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wen-kexing-apologist · 6 months

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ngl i am waiting for you to write about physical touch and HANDS in last twilight *insert manifestation circle.gif here*

Not gonna lie, as much as I have been enjoying Last Twilight, I haven't felt all that inspired to write about it, but it has been making me feel all warm and fuzzy now that people are reaching out and asking for my thoughts. Turns out people actually seem to enjoy my horrendously long posts!

Alright, I will talk about physical touch and hands in Last Twilight, but before I get too far in to it, I just want to say, I love the use of physical touch in shows, but I will dare to claim the use of physical touch seems particularly important, and especially complicated in Last Twilight, compared to most of the other shows I've written about. Why?

Because Day is blind, and Mhok is his caretaker, and if you are remotely aware of disability, the autonomy of disabled people, the privacy of disabled people, the survival of disabled people are often disrupted by abled bodied people. I saw a post somewhere, sorry I can't find it, where someone mentioned the rates of abuse of disabled people by their caretakers and how that might weigh in to Day's reaction to touching a shirtless Mhok in Episode 2.

So.

With Day's blindness, grief, and intentional isolation, as well as his family's anxiety, how much control has Day really had over his own life in the last year? As @bengiyo said in Episode 1, "Day's brashness in the interview when he asks Mhok if he's hot sounds like a gay man knowing that he is about to be touched a lot by a stranger" [not a direct quote, apologies].

Episode 1

gif from @dragonsareawesome123

The first physical touch we get between Day and Mhok is when Mhok touches Day's chin, making a comment that essentially boils down to Day having a punchable face. You can see how shocked Day is to feel Mhok's thumb on him. But the motion is quick, light, and slightly flirty (though maybe I'm reading a bit in to that last one since I know this is a BL). While Day seems taken aback, he doesn't seem uncomfortable with the touch at all, moreso, to me at least, he seems surprised that Mhok *isn't* shying away from touching Day after Day so loudly and blatantly declared his queerness and hit on Mhok.

photo from @thescrumptiousstuffs

The second physical touch we get is when Day leaves his car and winds up on the street with traffic whizzing past. Mhok pulls Day off the street when Day gets overwhelmed and Day goes crashing in to Mhok. I don't remember them staying pressed together for too long, but there is a moment where Mhok is embracing Day. Mhok's hands go to Day's hips while Day's hand rests on Mhok's chest near his collarbone. From my view, this is a decently intimate position for relative strangers, but they don't feel uncomfortable in it. Which is a great hint that Mhok and Day are going to become more to each other. Mhok does something here that I do think is important, which is to tell Day who is he, so Day knows he isn't being manhandled by a *complete* stranger. And though I suspect the biggest reason why Day ends up being driven home by Mhok is because Day wants to be away from Night, it cannot be denied that Day already has some modicum of trust in this random, crass man that burst in for an interview just the other day. Because, as we know, Mhok was really the only person who interacted with Day without falling victim to pity, inspiration porn, or infantilization.

The third physical touch I consider important is when Day's mother stops him from standing up. I've been reading @waitmyturtles PhD level thesis on Bad Buddy so filial piety and saving face is pretty present on my mind. I think it is important to acknowledge that Day does have some autonomy, but where he exercises it is very clear. He can leverage his blindness and his bad experiences with past caretakers to get what he wants out of his mother, and he can double, triple, quadruple the caretaker salary without consulting his mother. But when it comes to physical movement, he listens to his mother, but not to Night. Night tells him to stay in the car, and Day almost immediately leaves the car and goes in to the Society. Day gets out in the middle of traffic after a fight with Night, even after Night begs him to stay in the car. But that moment of challenge from Mhok where he tells Day to come get his ID himself, and Day starts to stand, everything stops dead in its tracks at the first light touch of his mother's hand on Day's chest. So, despite the moments of anger and rebellion we see from Day, he still listens to his mother.

gif from @dragonsareawesome123

And then Day moves to get his ID, and here is where I will mention a moment where there was not any touch. Which, probably could be an essay in and of itself, but I don't have the capacity at the moment, on this airplane, to comb through all the scenes and look for it. But here, this one feels important, because Day takes the ID from Mhok, but Mhok does not let go right away. Their fingers are so close, and in a lot of movies, the handing over of an item would usually involve some sort of moment where fingertips brush and a shockwave of electricity ripples through the future couple. But we don't get that here. The moment of connection, the moment that Day really knows he can trust Mhok, the moment Day decides he is going to hire Mhok has nothing to do with touch, and everything to do with sound. He hears Mhok read Chapter 21 of The Little Prince, a book that is desperately important to Day, and that is that. And I do think it is important that these little touches that we've had, and where we break from the romance tradition for touch are important. Because, I think it is totally fine for feelings to grow between Mhok and Day rather quickly, but I do not think it would have been wise to show Mhok having some sort of actual crush on Day from the beginning. If Mhok had some sort of romantic or sexually attractive feelings for Day before he started working there, that would, in my opinion, read as predatory in some sense. Especially looking ahead to Episode 2, when Mhok is shirtless in Day's room.

Because, the thing about physical touch in television is that a lot of different elements go in to selling it as romantic chemistry. One of the most important components is timing and close up. As a side note, I think timing is a huge factor in to why I did not enjoy Perth and Chimon together in Dangerous Romance (before I dropped it) because the camera just never lingered long enough on their faces or on their touches for me to believe they had feelings for each other. But, by Episode 3 of Last Twilight I can see the care and the chemistry between Mhok and Day. I can see the comfortability that Mhok and Day have from almost the very beginning of knowing each other, but I don't take much of their physical interactions to be sexually charged or romantic in Episode 1. Why would they be? These two don't know each other. By generally avoiding zooming in on just Day and Mhok's hands when they touch, by having Mhok grabbing Day's chin with his thumb quickly and lightly you aren't building to tension. Aof is merely demonstrating that physical touch between Day and Mhok is welcomed and Day is not going to be uncomfortable with having Mhok take care of him.

So we head in to Episode 2 with the understanding that there is some fundamental aspect of Mhok that Day is drawn to, and that Mhok and Day are going to get along.

Episode 2

Now, as much as I have loved the rapidly developing relationship between Mhok and Day, I do kind of wish we had had a full episode's worth of two angry, grieving people coming head to head. But, regardless, Aof handles the transition between casual touch and Something More with expert precision. Unsurprising, considering his oeuvre.

gif by @mooninaugust

So we get absolutely my favorite touch moment to date in Episode 2 with the absolutely terrible secret handshake between two blind people. I love how Mhok is witness to this moment of excitement and friendship between Day and Aon, and that we are too. Because it shows us where Mhok currently stands in Day's hierarchy of relationships. Mhok at the beginning of Episode 2 is still an acquaintance, some dude they hired because he cursed the family out and read The Little Prince during his interview process. The cut scene between Mhok saying Day might not want to see him, and Aon and Day hugging and doing their stupid loser handshake (I love them) shows Mhok and the audience that Day does have joy within him, and that Day is starting to build friendship and connection within his new (read: blind) community. We won't know until a little later in the episode how much Day has been cutting himself off from his old life, but for the time being Mhok knows his place in Day's life.

And Aon picks up on the fact that there is *something* even if it is not necessarily romantic there between Mhok and Day, again not by seeing anything physical between them because a) Mhok and Day did not touch in front of Aon and b) Aon would not have been able to see it anyway. But instead calls out the fact that Day has never talked about a single one of his caregivers before. We know now (and definitely should know already) that Mhok is different from other people Day has engaged with since he started going blind. We just haven't had time for their relationship to mature.

photo from @thatgirl4815

If I recall correctly, the first physical touch between Mhok and Day we get in Episode 2 is when Day accidentally touches Mhok's titty while searching for the eye drops. You can see Day recoil in shock a bit and he questions Mhok almost immediately as to why his shirt is off. Mhok is incredibly matter-of-fact in explaining that Day said he didn't like the smell of cigarettes, so he took his shirt off so as not to stink up Day's room (we can ignore the fact that he would still smell like cigs, but we ignore it For The Vine) and Day relaxes and makes some sort of annoyed comment. Again here, there is no romantic attraction in this rather intimate touch. I mean, this is Mhok's what? Second or third day? Mhok and Day barely know each other, Mhok is constantly fucking up the Whole Routine because he isn't communicating with Day about what Day's needs are, and here he is in his employer's room having his pec fondled. This is supposed to read as funny, and ultimately I think it does, but it doesn't read as romantic, and it definitely should not. What has Mhok done up to this point that would cause Day to have Genuine Romantic Feelings for him? Nothing.

photo from @moonchildridden

Again, the first hint that feelings may be approaching comes outside of the touch, with Mhok seeing how excited Day is to use those few precious seconds of better vision to watch his goldfish. And even moreso, it's not just the action that I think start the train rolling, but the conversation that Mhok has with Day where he asks if the goldfish is lonely. Mhok is able to con Day in to leaving his room by leveraging the health and safety of one of the few things Mhok has seen Day care about and connect with in the short time they've known each other. Day gets outside for the first time in god knows how long, to find that the jasmine is in bloom and to have a lovely conversation with Mhok about it. Mhok asks about Day's vision, how he sees, what he can see, and he tries to adapt to Day's necessary distance requirements. Day of course, has his head turned away and thus does not see Mhok coming in to Day's eyesight range, and bumps his nose against the top of Mhok's finger.

This little, accidental movement is one of my favorites of the episode, mostly because it opens up the conversation where Day asks what Mhok is doing and Mhok asks if Day wants to see his face. And this scene establishes exactly what I mean about timing as it relates to building sexual tension. Day ponders for a moment, the camera lingers on his face, the audience begins to feel like Day is caught off-guard, like maybe he does have some sort of crush on Mhok and he does want to see his face. Only for Day to break that tension right before it gets awkwardly long and tell Mhok he does not. This is closer to the shit that friends would pull. And thus we see that in a very quick period of time Mhok is becoming more important in Day's life as a waypoint. He is listening to Mhok, he has a slight bit of banter going with Mhok when they watch a movie, and even after Day fires Mhok (for the physical touches I will talk about next) Mhok's influence on Day's general day to day (haha) existence is clear in the fact that Day is sitting on the couch and trying to pick a movie entirely independently of anyone.

Things are starting to go smoothly, when Day's friends show up asking when he got back from America. Day panics at the unexpected arrival of friends who seem not to know about his condition, spills his popcorn, and falls to the floor, where he is desperately scrambling to get back on his feet and Get The Fuck Out. Mhok tries to help him up, but he's pretty quickly brushed off. This is the first time we see Day reject a touch from Mhok. Knowing what I know now about where we end up in Episode 3, I am realizing how important this entire scene (from Day tripping to Mhok getting fired) is for establishing a comparison point for change. Because the unwanted touch continues when Mhok breaks in to Day's room, also in a panic when Day is bathing.

gif by @btwinlines

We get such a juicy moment of Mhok and Day's trauma clashing with each other in a way that is unintentionally terrible all around. Day does not know about Mhok's backstory, Day does not know that by putting in his headphones and intentionally ignoring Mhok he is accidentally triggering Mhok regarding the death of his sister. Mhok knows that Day is upset, but only hears the room fall quiet, he does not know that Day is in the bathtub (read: naked) when he comes barging in. Again, to reference the post whoever it was made that talked about the rates of abuse/assault of disabled people by caregivers, this is a horrifically vunerable position that Day finds himself in. Mhok is far enough away from Day's range of vision for Day to see him immediately duck behind a wall to give Day privacy while he wraps himself in a towel. And before Day can really process what is happening, with both his emotions and Mhok's running high, Mhok is grabbing at Day's wrists to check them for cuts. A beautiful (and terrible) detail.

Personally, I do not think anyone's reaction to that situation is wrong, but it does give Day a second round of extremely uncomfortable and unwelcome touching from Mhok, when he's already escalated, and trying to process the fact that Mhok just barged in to his room while Day was naked and got a little peek. Here Day demonstrates that he does have autonomy, and that Mhok respects that autonomy with Day firing Mhok after two particularly awful physical interactions, and with Mhok not even saying a word in protest and just accepting his termination and leaving the house.

photo from @thescrumptiousstuffs

Now. Mhok isn't completely going out fighting, and Mhok I think has really started to realize that he cares for Day (even if he doesn't necessarily have feelings at this point) because of how badly he was triggered by Day falling silent. Mhok is a thoughtful person and respects Day's boundaries by sending Porjai to the house instead of going himself. Much to Day's chagrin, because the second the doorbell rings, you can see this hopeful look that maybe Mhok is going to walk through that door. Porjai hands Day the present Mhok bought him, and Mhok does hold the slippers close, but he relies heavily on his hands to feel the slippers to figure out what they are and what they look like. He knows immediately that Mhok has been paying attention and trying to get to know Day immediately because the slippers solve the problem Day has had with hitting his feet on furniture corners, and the slippers look like goldfish, one of the few things Day has seemed to care about since knowing Mhok.

Beyond the fact that I think Day already felt bad about what happened the other day and regrets firing Mhok, this really does demonstrate to Day that people still care about him, want to get to know him, and understand that adaptation is a constant in Day's new reality. But Mhok takes it further, by committing to the motherfucking bit to understand Day better.

Aside: I fucking *love* Aof for how often his stories focus on the overlooked or disenfranchised people, and I think that while it is going to be a feat for Last Twilight to become my favorite Aof piece considering how important Moonlight Chicken is to me, the backstories of Mhok and Day and the way they inform character decisions is perhaps my favorite of all of the shows I've seen of Aof's. I *love* the conversation that Mhok and Aon have where Aon says Day is scared of being looked at and judged by people, and how Mhok is like "why?" because he has spent the last year a visible criminal, trying to get a job, and being constantly rejected for exactly the reason he thinks. Mhok has spent so much time and energy over the last year trying to reintegrate himself in to society, while Day has spent so much time and energy over the last year trying to remove himself from society as completely as he can. Even if I am not sure that he believes it wholly, I do think Mhok understands that he isn't an inherently bad person because he was locked up, but that he is a victim of circumstance, and yet even reformed from his truancy past, Mhok found it impossible to get a job because people stopped caring about him as a person the second they saw his ankle monitor. Thus, Mhok knows exactly what it is like to be written off, to be abandoned, to be forgotten and I think it is for precisely those reasons that Mhok decides to spend the time and effort to understand the world that Day is living in.

The ankle monitor has served as an embarrassment for Mhok in such a way that I truly do not think Mhok is concerned about seeming like a complete and utter fool. And even so, he starts to understand the fear that Day is living with existing as a blind person in public, because Mhok is extremely used to seeing what people think of him without them having to say anything, and now he has no idea.

gif by @btwinlines

Which I think is a good segue in to the next physical touch we get, which is Day feeling Mhok's face in the marketplace after he asks Porjai to take him there. Again, the distance of the camera, the timing of the movement does not come off as romantic, at least to me. But it does come off as comfortable. I think Day is fucking with Mhok a little bit when he touches his face, and we don't actually acknowledge or get any conversation around the way Day has just demonstrated what it feels like to be touched without warning.

And YET AGAIN Aof has their bond strength not through touch, but through conversation. Because they aren't falling for each other yet, they are still learning about one another. And so they have a conversation where Mhok apologies and Mhok explains what he was trying to do and Mhok identifies what it is that makes Day so afraid of being in public. And we end Episode 2 with Mhok being re-hired as Day's caregiver. But wait!

Remember the last touch we get in Episode 1 is not a touch at all, it's Day taking his ID back from Mhok. Well, the last touch we get in Episode 2 is not a touch at all, it's Day throwing his hands to the sky on the back of Mhok's motorcycle and letting the wind hit his face. It's Day sitting on the complete opposite side of a glass tank, and using his moment of improved vision to catch a glimpse of Mhok. They aren't touching, yet we end the episode with the understanding that Day and Mhok have strengthened their relationship and are on the fast road to friendship. Personally, I feel like it is extremely responsible of Aof to not treat touching a blind person or having a blind person touch you as inherently romantic, and to have the more stomach swoopy moments come from actions and observations entirely devoid of touch. But, I'm not blind so I don't know how much something like that might actually matter to blind people who are engaging with this story.

Episode 3

IT IS TIME FOR FEELINGS!

There are so many physical touches in this episode. The first we get is Mhok unwrapping a bandage on Day's foot, with Day looking extremely at peace with the action. The second we get is Mhok kind of poking at Day and then jokingly moving to pick Day up when he refuses to start cleaning his room. Day doesn't seem like a person generally fond of man-handling, but you can tell very easily that Mhok is just fucking with Day because Day fucked with Mhok. We are witnessing friendship! Which persists throughout the entire episode.

photo by @athousandbyeol

I like too that Mhok using the blindfold to better understand Day is not a one and done situation. Again there are a few friendly touch moments that do not at all read as romantic.Mhok steals Day’s sunglasses and is perfectly at peace with Day feeling up his face to try to see if the sunglasses Mhok is wearing are his; and when Mhok's hand envelopes Day's when they are trying to guess the shirts in Day's closet by feel alone. Day does not tense up, he doesn't suck in a breath, he doesn't really let that touch linger. He shakes it off quickly and is like "that's my hand". And again, as an aside (I hope this does not come across inappropriately but) I kinda like that Mhok is almost gamifying Day's blindness. What I mean by that is that Day and Mhok are engaging in friendly competition to see who can accurately guess the article of clothing. It seems like a great way to bring some joy and levity to helping Day get better at understanding his surroundings without the use of his vision.

I am an absolute sucker for couples in shows that have an established friendship beforehand. I don't mean friends to lovers necessarily, but too often in BLs I have noticed that romantic interests are only ever that and we don't get a lot of moments of stupidity, tomfoolery, and fun. So you better believe I was living my best life in the next physical touch scene when Day and Mhok are fighting with the dinosaur costumes on. And this is where the physical touches start to change, because we start without physical touch and end with it, where we have up until this point been ending every moment of connection and relationship progression ending without touch.

gif by @raypakorn

For the dinosaur fight, we get the non-romantic, entirely platonic assistive touch of Mhok helping (poorly) to guide Day to the driveway (this fucker was so ready to wrestle he forgot to tell Day to mind the stairs at first lmfao). The actual point of connection starts with Mhok intentionally trying to dive out of the way of Day’s touch. And once again Mhok Day’s blindness to elevate a game between them, by clapping and then diving out of the way to try to avoid Day’s movements. But that avoidance of physical interaction very quickly devolves in to a wrestling embrace, laughing, having fun, and then settling on the ground to chat until Day hears his mother’s car and they run back inside to hide the evidence of childish glee.

Day’s mother returns to find a very different Day from who she left, he’s out of his room, he’s eating in the dining room, he’s seeming much more confident in his ability to navigate around the house. And of course, she has to go and ruin the moment by pushing too quickly on a nerve about going back to school. Day wants to withdraw from school and he needs to go in person.

Now.

We have seen Day taking massive strides in his own healing process in the last few episodes because he is starting to ask for help when he needs it, and Mhok is getting better at caretaking because he is started to ask if Day wants help for certain tasks or if Day is going to do them himself, thus allowing Day to set his limitations. Knowing that Day is going in to school, he asks Mhok to help him fix up his hair, and we get the first of many more crush-level physical touches in the show.

gif by @jimmysea

I’m not Thai, so forgive me if this is wrong, but I am pretty sure that in Thai culture the head is considered sacred and having people touch your head carries a significance that I do not think Western audiences really understand (speaking as a Western viewer). If this is indeed true, then the scene where Mhok is fixing Day’s hair gets even more intense, even when there is a clear change in Mhok’s view of Day from friendly to starting to see something more. Mhok even makes a comment about how Day is a stunner (or something) when his hair is done, and when Mhok asks Day if he likes it and Day returns the question, there is a pause that is not at all dissimilar to the pause Day had after Mhok asked him if Day wanted to know what Mhok looked like.

But where the tension from Episode 2 when Mhok asks the question is broken in a way that makes it seem more like Day is just teasing, I don’t think Mhok’s deflection of “it’s alright” really returns the same level of dismissal. Because Mhok is starting to realize something about the way he is feeling for Day.

We get the inside of the Thai subway for the first time in maybe ever? As Mhok and Day make their way to Day’s college. And thus the not-a-date-kind-of-a-date adventure begins. Day is clinging on to Mhok’s arm as they navigate on to the subway car, at which point Mhok breaks off from Day to try to ask for a seat for Day. But Day grabs him and pulls him back, choosing instead of hold on to Mhok’s arm. Like I have been saying, Aof has been doing a really great job at differentiating the types of touches, and up until this point, the more intimate touches between Mhok and Day, such as when Day feels Mhok’s titty in his bedroom or Mhok’s face at the market, don’t read as romantic, because Day is taking in information to supplement his vision. Similarly, the moments where Day is holding on to Mhok for assistance in environmental navigation, such as when Mhok helps guide Day to his professor’s office or helps him down the stairs the physical touch is matter-of-fact on both ends.

photo by @athousandbyeol

But here, in the subway, we get the first instance of physical touch from an environmental navigation standpoint that reads more like a man who is developing a crush rather than Day just being guided…

…but that comes from Day, not from Mhok. Which I appreciate massively from the standpoint of ensuring that Mhok as the caretaker does not appear to be taking advantage of Day. In the subway, Day could have sat down, he didn’t need to stay standing, he didn’t need to continue holding on to Mhok. But he chooses to do that. He chooses to keep his arm linked tightly with Mhok’s, he chooses to get a little flirty with Mhok when he says as long as Mhok stays close to him, that’s all Day needs. And we get the close up of Mhok and Day’s hands when Mhok moves to tap Day’s hand gently, and the shot lingers. Because things are starting to change.

I said in a previous reblog last week when Episode 3 came out that Aof does this really interesting thing in his direction and cinematography when characters share intimate moments, in that he breaks from his standard visual format. The lighting often changes, the camera isn’t held as steady, the moments are zoomed in much closer than we are used to. We get it with Heart and Li Ming playing that spider game with their fingers the night that Li Ming sleeps over and we get it in the subway when Day stumbles slightly and swallows hard, embarrassed and avoiding eye contact while Mhok looks at Day kind of fondly.

gif by @taeminie

So we see the spark in the subway and then watch that spark begin to catch when they end up in the dressing room together. Day and Mhok both establish that they have never been in a dressing room with another person to cut the tension and nerves a bit. Afterall, this is the first time that we’ve seen where Mhok is getting up close and personal with Day’s partially nude body, when they are both calm, collected, and not amidst a panic attack about a potential medical emergency. No one is feeling violated, no one is feeling scared, no one is having their privacy forcibly removed from them. But that makes them all that more aware of how they are feeling, physically, when they are touching and being touched.

And we get a secondary Aof Camerawork Moment where the style of shot changes and we get that gorgeous zoom in on Mhok’s hands and Day’s chest when Mhok helps Day back in to his shirt. And isn’t it wonderful that the most sensual and intimate moment that we have seen from Mhok and Day so far is putting Day’s clothes back on?

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Check out @btwinlines’ post about this scene.

Day and Mhok continue their day, find the Last Twilight book, and are hanging about the market where Mhok leaves Day standing against a pole while he runs to grab a drink. As a result, we get a bombardment of physical touch, the most overwhelming to date because Day is getting just absolutely shunted around, bumping elbows and shoulders with the people at the market with no idea of where he is or where he is going. And this is where we really get an understanding of how terrible physical touch can be when you don’t have any bearing of your surroundings and can’t see where people are coming from or anticipate contact.

We got a scene in Episode 1 where we see how dangerous being blind has the potential to be, but Day isn’t being touched by anybody at that point until he is pulled off the street by Mhok. But this time while Day does have a moment where he is in more physical danger because he stumbles on to the street, he is relatively much more safe getting lost in the marketplace than when he ran out on to the street in Episode 1, cause the few cars that are present are moving slow and know to be looking out for pedestrians. Day is grabbed and directed by random strangers who are trying to help him and kind of just…drag him along until he is out of the street when he is visibly panicking and then just…left on the side of the road with an offhanded statement from strangers that he is “safe now” and they just…leave him alone and continue on their way. Even there, with a helpful touch, there is no safety or comfortability in Day’s posture, he is not calmed by hearing that he is safe. Which serves as a really great comparison point for how comfortable Day has pretty much always been with Mhok (minus the one moment of severe dysregulation after being surprised by his friends and then by Mhok when Day was buck ass naked).

Especially when compared to the relief that just rushes through Day’s body when he and Mhok are reunited and they embrace.

AND LIKE OKAY, CAN I GO ON A BRIEF TANGENT TO TALK ABOUT THE PINK SHIRT?

gif by @tomystars

You know how in a lot of romances you get that moment where you get the like, love at first sight thing? Time slows down, one half of the romantic pair picks the other half of the romantic pair out of the crowd? WE GET THAT HERE, WITH THE BLIND CHARACTER BEING THE ONE WHO PICKS THE FUTURE LOVE INTEREST OUT OF THE CROWD.

The pink shirt is brilliant, and I love how it both acts as an anchor point for Day who is able to calm down upon seeing it, and not panic or freak out when being grabbed and embraced by Mhok after having a decently traumatic experience with physical touch just minutes before while also reaffirming that Mhok is learning and internalizing the adaptations he needs to incorporate in to his own life to make Day’s daily life easier and more accessible. Mhok understands how Day’s vision functions, he remembers that Day has said he could see that shirt from Mars it’s so bright, and he provides an in for Day to maintain his autonomy by making it possible for Day to potentially see Mhok before Mhok sees Day.

ANYWAY

@athousandbyeol

The embrace they share when Day and Mhok are reunited is not charged, is not romantic, at least not to me. But what it does show is how much care Day and Mhok have for each other, how quickly their friendship is developing, and the safe spaces these two will find in the other. Day calms so quickly the second he and Mhok are touching, as soon as he has an anchor. And he won’t let go of Mhok either.

Aof and co have been playing well with dichotomies, here, a situation that pulls Day and Mhok physically apart ends up bringing them emotionally closer together. It is clear that Day does not blame Mhok for what happened, even if Mhok was gone much longer than anticipated, and that is affirmed by Day defending Mhok to his mother when she questions Mhok’s caretaking skills and holds his criminal record over his head.

And, let’s not forget, this is just writing about the physical touch, this post does not discuss whether or not the lack of touch is important. I wrote a decent chunk of this in the airport without wifi, so I could only talk about physical touch from memory, I didn't rewatch anything like I normally do, so apologies if I missed stuff.

#last twilight #last twilight the series #last twilight meta #last twilight analysis #jimmysea #mhokday #mhok x day #morkday #mork x day #physical touch in last twilight #sorry for the delay anon I know you sent this ask the other day #but fun fact it does take me an ungodly number of hours to write things so I hope you did not feel ignored #wka long post

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ladythornofrivia · 5 months

Text

MY SCAVENGER || Kylo Ren!Aemond x Rey!Reader

a/n: i’ve been thinking about what one-shot I should do next. Though I’m currently writing Saltburn fanfic, I love Star Wars. Even Reylo! Have fun reading! (Some dialogue in the beginning doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the movie.)

warnings: interrogation, torture kink, lust at first sight, breeding kink, p in v sex, fight scene, violence, aemond has issues, loss of virginity, aemond is a d*ck, kink size, obsessive aemond, dom/sub, aemond not only uses the power of force on reader but also with his d*ck. Bl*wjob, degradation kink, creampie

pair: aemond x reader

Somewhere in the galaxy far away, the leader of the First Order, Aemond Targaryen, was hunting for the map that’ll lead him to Daemon Targaryen, the last Jedi ever existed. Or so he believed.

While Aemond knew the legends of his uncle and his journey as a Jedi warrior, but those who commanded under Aemond’s order and leadership, not a soul in a galaxy believed Daemon ever existed, not in the history textbooks or screens. The stormtroopers only meant to serve their skilled leader.

As young as he was, Aemond Targaryen is known for his cold and calculating nature. He kept his helmet on, under any circumstances, and wields a red lightsaber. Tall and lethal, no one really knew what he looked like—it left to the imagination far and wide, leading his troops picturing of his appearance. Aemond wouldn’t dare make his troops or his other commanding officers enter his private quarters.

In the galaxy, everyone feared him.

Until you.

A nobody living in the stories of galaxy.

Hunting for scraps and leftovers for the sake of small profit to keep on living. Finding rare scraps in Jakku, was meddlesome. A nightmare. Filled in stacks of desert sand and humid waves lingered and pierced your skin.

Deserted land has been your home. And in your home, inside the AT-AT Walker, after you scratch another tally mark on the metallic wall, you cooked a loaf of bread and fried vegetables and scraps of thin meat. You wondered when your life will begin anew with reborn purpose. A nobody, in the galactic space, hoped your family would return.

You hoped that your life isn’t meaningless.

Jakku has been destroyed; in chaos, you’re forced to leave—of taking refuge, but more companions in your journey agreed that Jakku is nothing but a junkyard, and there you met a legendary shooter and a Wookie Warrior. But the plans failed.

For Aemond Targaryen spotted the map to Daemon Tarygaryen’s location. But the expectant acquirance wasn’t the astromech, droid BB8, rather, something far more interesting.

Aemond captured you—after minutes of chase and defense in the thickened forest. “Bring the girl,” he ordered, as your body fell to unconsciousness by the force, as he carried you and fled away with his ship, brought you to the First Order base, entrapped in metal straps as soon as you woke up.

Luminous lights and thick air provoked your tightened lungs to breath and your skin had broken a perspiration.

The doors opened, unveiling a tall, dark figure between the gaps of archway. Stomping on his shoes echoed until became nothing.

“Where are the others?” you asked, rasping, eyes hazed.

“You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves and cravens you call friends,” he said, taunting, his voice was nearly a merry. “You’ll be in such a relief that I have no clue to where they are.”

The reflection of his mask stared back at you. “You still want to murder me—challenge me,” he assumed.

“Well, that’s what happens if you’ve been chased and captured by the monstrous creature in a mask,” you snapped, low voice laced with venom.

His mask has taken off, long silk strands of silver-blond hair flowed over his chest, as the violet eye and the substitution of his sapphire gleamed at you. For a second, you never thought that your captor is skilled fighter, but it’s also young—young and handsome. His milky skin aglow, a good correlation to his deep stone wedged on the empty socket of his amputated eye, lined with scar that is faded. Outline of his jaw sharpened, shadowed as he strode closer to you.

Thundered, his mask dropped at a nearby stand, the grey sand flew and dissipated as his lithe frame inched closer.

“The droid,” he said, almost frantic. “Tell me about the droid. I know the droid has the map to Daemon Targaryen. Ever heard of him?”

Looking at his eye, you shook your head, “Never heard of him,” you answered, the illuminated lights flashed over your eyelids each time you blinked.

Aemond inched his face closer. “Your heart beat is pounding awfully loud.”

“Must be the heat,” you retorted.

He chuckled. “What a clever liar you are. But not clever enough. Now, tell me about the droid.”

“He’s a BB Unit with a Selenium Drive with a Thermal Hyperscan Vindicator.”

“It’s carrying a navigational chart, which the droid possesses the map.” His head tilted. “You, a scavenger, living on Jakku—a deserted planet with nothing to offer.” His face leaned closer. “You know I can take what I want.”

You swallowed, eyes flicking at his smooth pink-colored lips.

“My,” he said, licking his lower lip. “It appears you have some sort of interest in me, showed no signs of fear.”

You looked away, face reddened from the strict heat in the room and the huskiness in his voice. His hand outreached to your side temple, though no contact. You felt the Force strengthened and battled against the mobility of your system.

“You’re lonely. Alone and desperate. Waiting for someone to show up and rescue you. Waiting for someone to lead you out from the land, from the galaxy and into the great land with trees and life. I can sense the anger…not only that…something far more…delicate…in the matter based on your compromising position,” he cooed.

You resisted, of course, but your energy drained quicker.

His body leaned back, taking a good look of your exasperated form. “Tell you what, I’ll release you, but only if you can give something to me, in one condition.”

You (e/c) locked onto his. “And what would that be?”

Only the corners of Aemond’s lips curled.

“Please, no,” you begged, wrists tied up behind your back while Aemond was sitting on a spare chair, his thick and lithe legs spread wide while you’re in between them, knees already hurting.

“Shhh, trust me, my little scavenger,” he cooed again, his gloved hand flattened behind your head and dragged it downward. “So, are you going to be my good woman, or do I have show you the force again?”

Gulping, you succumbed at his voice. Maybe another way of his “force”.

“Good woman,” he praised, and unzipped his black trousers, his long and thick cock sprung out it nearly hit your cheek below the eye. “Sorry, darling, my cock couldn’t help but to view at the sight of you,” he said, smirking, tugging your locks, hauling you closer to his engorged tip, leaking. Your lips opened, taken his length in, choking. It felt as if your eating a whole uncut rod—or a thicker lightsaber. “All trapped underneath me, my power. The force within can’t abide much later.”

Gagging proceeded in your throat, but you took his length in precarious and fervent care.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his other hand flicked, the force brought your head down further to the end of his swollen cock, his large balls. “Argh! That’s…it.”

It was impressive for him to not only deal with a woman with capable resistance, but also has a coy nature she has been hiding—a tease.

The force no longer hostage you; your mouth watered as you took his cock well, swallowing the taste of his flesh, his warm flesh. Oh, how delightful. You never dealt a Jedi or a commander to have desirable or naughty urges. But you figured that even the force cannot contain beastly urges of a man. Aemond was one. But, has he ever been a woman before you? Jealousy pitted down on your heated belly, flickering.

It felt so wrong, but, your heart was aching for him, despite “meeting” under the matters of selfish urgency and a brink of death.

Aemond sighed, his silver-blond locks befallen on his broad and lean backside, his throat bobbed, heaving and sighing at your warm and slick mouth.

“Your thoughts are troubling you again,” he said. “No, I have never been with a woman.”

You doubted. Tortured at the thought of a previous woman, a torture where a previous woman might do better than you—an inexperienced scavenger.

“I never lie,” he said. His index finger flicked, and the hair ties on your head casted, your longish locks flowed, nesrly covering up your breast. “In fact, I never did.”

Semen spurted in your slippery mouth.

“Take it all in, darling,” he encouraged, hearing your throat quenched its thirst, smothered in his slick and spurt of his thick semen.

The room became hotter as Aemond strapped your wrists above your head onto the prison bed.

“Stay still, woman,” he grunted, his lips inched downward to yours, seeing if the pace of his breath matched with yours.

Your chest steadied from a grasping breath you tried to behold with gentleness. Aemond sensed it, too.

“You’re steady…Good.” And plunged his suppled lips to yours, caging your soft ragged breaths, playing your tongue with his, heavy sighs played out in the air, his palm snuck in your cloth, smooth fingertips tracing the lines of your stomach, the soft steep of ribcage.

“With you under my protection, nothing can go wrong, little scavenger,” he said, his tucked hand withdrew, and flicked a sharp movement, and your clothes shred and tossed across the room under his Force.

Gasping, Aemond silenced your lips again under a deep passion. A sheer underwear tucked your maidenhood. Frustrated, Aemond snatched and ripped in one swoop, his cock engorged twice, hardened, his throat dried and croaked at the sight of your flawless beauty, picturing the lines of stretch marks on your lower belly from the swollen pregnancy. Aemond thought beforehand that if the First Order has been under siege, in one way to promote a difficult position that couldn’t diffuse, he needed an heir, an heir of a stronger, faster and more calculating version of himself.

“Hold on, scavenger, I’m sure this will be painful for you, but you’ll grow to love the feeling of my cock, grinding inside your walls. How do you feel now, little woman? Are you willing to give an heir for me?”

You gasped. There was so much life ahead of you. Unsure of his words, you were sure he’s crazy to know that one, obtaining pregnancy is scandalous—especially if a father is a notorious leader. He could be killed, and could be tortured or his enemies will use you and the child to proceed their victory to reach Aemond.

Gulping and vibrating under him, you uttered. “Why me?”

Your heart is torn in half. What if Aemond is only using you as a spare time hobby? What if he’ll soon find a lover who’s more beautiful and mature and not childlike like you, and for you to be thrown in the dark and be forgotten? Numerous possibilities rushing in your mind—and halted—when Aemond said, “I won’t betray you. Betraying is the enemy’s job.”

“But you’re the enemy,” you remarked.

“In this room, you’ll only see the real me, as the real Aemond, a beast hidden in a skin of a man,” he murmured. “I must have you,” he grunted, pushing his cock into your constricted folds, pumping and sliding in a tremendous pace that the bed rocked.

Moans ascended in the roofs, Aemond’s quiet grunts entered through your ears. Your legs wrapped around his slender waist, bobbing as his powerful thrusts electrified your drenched walls.

Your eyes lulled, but Aemond grasped your face and aligned it to his, violet eye narrowed. “Look at me as I fuck you good—heavy and fast. Your belly will soon swell with a future Jedi, a more powerful warrior than any good-for-nothing troops in the galaxy.”

His legs ached as his one hand untied the knot on your wrist and hauled your body up for you to snuggle him, bed rocking continuously as your voice rasped, airily sighing with your eyes closed, almost seeing pink stars swirling in your closed lids, your mouth sucked Aemond’s neck, offered a low hiss through his teeth.

“That’s it, my good angel,” Aemond purred,the flat of his large hands enveloped and motioned against your naked back. The heat in the room faded, the coldness bumped into your bare flesh; the air condition is activated, encouraged your warm bodies to go at full speed.

“Aemond,” you moaned, head threw back.

Aemond’s pace became sloppy, staggered at you calling his name. “Say it again, my darling scavenger. Say my name.”

“Aemond…Aemond,” your hips gyrated, in pleasurable heat.

His lips curved. “I knew you would love it eventually.”

“Need you to come…inside me..in me…on me…in my mouth or face. Fuck me good,” you begged, corner of your lips salivating, tongue buds prickling, in hopes to taste his cock again.

But you missed the part where Aemond’s eye gleamed in darkened shade, in secret thrill.

Grabbing your hips, nails deepened and bruised your flesh and bones as his thrusts shoved harder, sending your voice wailing through the roof. You were sure that the Stormtroopers would stop and listen over your voice. Aemond couldn’t care less; he loved seeing you like this.

“Almost there, my scavenger,” he groaned, kissing your cheek, last few rounds set in; your arms slightly flailed yet gripped around his neck, face nuzzled onto his lean neck as he blasted hot white liquid inside you.

Kissing on several spots on your face, Aemond tugged your body down with him, with your side profile pressed against his chest, his hand rested on your back head while the other brushed your back.

“The child will soon grow into you,” he reminded.

“What about the droid?” you asked, puzzled.

Aemond scoffed. “Forget about that damn droid. It is you who I am enamored to, who I am now devoted to.”

“Is this the power of force?”

“No, this is my love yearning for someone—for you, my sweet,” he said. “The force is neither the army nor the galaxy. The force is within us, and only us can gather. The force can sometimes break us.”

“You didn’t break me,” you noted, admiring his sapphire eye.

Aemond smiled. “No, but you tamed the force within me.”

And you both shared a tender kiss under dimmed light.

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @valeskafics @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @aracelipf @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @wolfdressedinlace @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @jmii722 @colored-tr-panels @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @liannafae

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redtsundere-writes · 1 month

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Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 9. Don't Know

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Synopsis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Fighting. Sexual harassment. I only read it once, lmao Word count: 2722 words. A/N: Shoutout to @ghosts-girl_ on IG for sending me a Sukuna fanart that was inspired by this fic! Tysm <3!

Btw I made a PLAYLIST

Going back to the hospital always scared me. I always enter the doctor’s office with sweaty hands while imagining the worst in my mind. The white and neat walls, decorated with informative posters about the importance of exercising regularly. The light gray floor was freshly waxed, I could see my scared face reflected in it. There were a few fake plants around to make the place look less intimidating.

The doctor was asking me questions about my lifestyle over the past six months while typing incessantly on the computer perched in the middle of the large desk. The doctor took out the new x"ray that had been taken of my neck and inspected it in front of the light screen. He didn't say anything, he just analyzed her very carefully to not make a wrong diagnosis. My manager, Mei Mei, came with me this time for support despite having a tight schedule. She noticed I was nervous, so she patted me on the back to calm me down.

“Do you think she can fight soon, Doc?" Mei Mei asked him my biggest concern.

“Her neck has completely healed, if she wanted, she could fight tonight,” the doctor answered with a smile.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips at the wonderful news I had awaited for so long. 3 years to be precise. I was out of the octagon for 3 years on medical recommendation so that my neck would heal completely and avoid future injuries. My face was about to cry with joy, so I hid it in my hands. I was about to reborn, I already wanted to return to the gym with my team to train like in the old days. Start again, conquer the battlefield and recover the title that was taken from me.

Mei Mei and I left the office to meet my friend and training partner, Nobara, who was waiting for us along with Mei Mei's younger brother, Ui Ui. I told her the good news, and she hugged me happily. We used to do everything together before I was injured, now we could go back to our routine as if nothing had happened.

“Everyone will be very happy when they see you back at the gym,” Nobara said excitedly.

“Finally,” I sighed heavily jokingly. “Mei Mei, shall I ask you to gather the team?” I asked her nicely.

Mei Mei was in charge of ensuring that my schedule was met without delays. She was the one who organizes my fights, gathers athletes for special training, hires doctors, etc. She was always busy, but she never let me out of her sight. Not only that, but she always took care of my my needs even though Team Black gives me everything I need. I told her not to worry so much in several occasions, but she always responded with “you never know.”

"I'm already on it, darling. Also, since your appearances with Ryomen, there are several sponsors interested in you,” Mei Mei reminded me of the unexpected kiss Sukuna gave me after his crushing victory against Naoya a couple of weeks ago. "Your life will return to normal in no time."

"When do you plan to come back?” Nobara asked me excitedly.

"I don't know yet, I have to talk to Sukuna's manager to agree on a release date and find a replacement,” I replied.

"When you have the date, let me know,” Mei Mei asked me without taking her eyes off her phone.

"When you return, could you bring me something signed by the King of the Ring?". Ui Ui asked excitedly.

"I'll see what I can do,” I answered honestly.

Mei Mei and Ui Ui left after that. Once we lost sight of them, Nobara took my hands to approach my face curiously. I moved away from her face at the unexpected proximity. When I saw her eyes sparkling from excitement, I could imagine what she wanted.

"So… You and Sukuna, huh?" she asked excitedly.

Since living with him, I have noticed that our relationship had improved, but only as a coach-athlete relationship. I haven't noticed that he treats me sweeter, that he gives me flirtatious glances or that he gets nervous when I am around. He continues to act as the same fearsome Sukuna as always.

My feelings towards him have also increased. When I have to watch him to make sure he does the exercises, my mind travels back to the passionate nights we've had together. I can no longer see his hands without thinking about how he holds me by the waist or his face without imagining him moaning my name. He made me blush without even trying, I was fed up. It was so frustrating not being able to do my job well.

"There’s nothing between me and Sukuna,” I answered, removing my hands from the grip.

"Don’t lie to me! Everyone saw that passionate kiss he gave you!" Nobara scolded while pretending to make out with herself.

"Sukuna only did it to annoy Naoya," I answered, trying to downplay it…

…but I couldn't ignore it. After that night, my perspective on Sukuna had completely changed. I wasn't surprised that I fell in love with him, I mean, I have a reputation for choosing the worst possible men. I had to get rid of this feeling as soon as I could. If I could do it while I lived with him, great, but I knew perfectly well that after asking for my resignation, Sukuna would throw me out and this feeling would go away on its own like a cold.

"And how are you so sure that he doesn't like you?" Nobara asked me.

The idea that Sukuna was interested in me in that way was tempting. It wasn't crazy considering we've already slept together twice, and he kissed me on international television, but I highly doubted that was the case. Yuuji had told me that Sukuna wasn't interested in having a girlfriend and I doubt that will change anytime soon.

“Impossible,” I answered without further ado.

"Oh, come on! Men never kiss woman just because,” Nobara argued.

"What do you know know about men? You're a lesbian,” I joked.

"I know how they behave when they like a girl, it's what we have in common," she challenged me.

My heart wanted to believe her, but my mind warned me with red flags that I shouldn't. Being in love is complicated.

At first, I had a hard time adjusting to living with Sukuna. I lived alone for so long that I forgot how it was living with someone. Quickly, I could adapt to his cold attitude in the morning, seeing him walk around the house wet and with a towel wrapped around his slutty waist, and listening to his complaints when we left the gym. Sukuna is the one who pays for everything, the only thing I could contribute to the house was to cook for him from time to time if the cook was not available. I couldn't help but feel like a sugar baby, but that feeling went away every time I used the magnificent indoor pool.

The microwave announcing that my popcorn was ready brought me out of my thoughts. I was preparing myself some popcorn as tonight's fights began. The schedule was not very exciting, except for the main fight. The fight for the heavyweight division championship between Toji Fushiguro and Aoi Todo. A battle between two powerful giants of the UFC.

I returned to the kitchen to prepare the popcorn to my liking in a bowl. I opened the refrigerator to look for the juice I had bought before I got home. Being a high-performance athlete, Sukuna's smart refrigerator only served to store large amounts of chicken breast, vegetables, and sparkling water. If I wanted something with sugar or “chemicals”, I had to buy it myself and hide it so as not to tempt Sukuna's appetite. As I closed the door, I noticed the new dietary regimen that Sukuna's nutritionist had asked hm to follow.

"Chicken, rice, and broccoli for 4 days straight? No wonder he's always so angry,” I thought out loud as I quickly scanned the sheet of paper.

No sugar. Do not eat carbs after 6 pm. Just an egg without yolk in the morning. I knew that Sukuna was a highly disciplined athlete, but going on such a demanding diet was ridiculous. If a nutritionist asked me to follow this regimen like a soldier, I would fire her in no time.

There were so many things I wanted to change about his extreme lifestyle, but I was sure I wouldn't be able to figure it out before my last day. Furthermore, I had to tell him that I would no longer be his coach and that someone else was going to take my place. I didn't know how he would even take the news. I just had to make sure to tell him when he is in a good mood. Who am I kidding? He is never in a good mood, that goes against his personality.

"Fuck this shit!" Sukuna yelled as he reluctantly entered the house. Now was not the right time to tell him.

He tossed his backpack onto the small stool at the entrance, where we kept our shoes and had a mirror for finishing touches. Sukuna slammed the door shut which offended my ears. I just watched him confused while I ate my popcorn.

"Things didn’t go well with the Olympian?" I asked, trying to understand where his anger was coming from.

While I was at the doctor, Sukuna went to the Olympic stadium to have an exclusive sparring with a boxing gold medalist. He insisted that I cancel my appointment to come with him, but I told him that even if I did that, I wouldn't be much help. My specialty is jujitsu, not boxing. I told him that Gojo knows more than me, and he stopped annoying me.

"That idiot asked for a break on the fifth round. Can you fucking believe that?! The best boxer in the nation?! My balls can last longer than that!” He exclaimed in annoyance as he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

"Could it be because it was training and not a real fight?" I asked before putting a popcorn in my mouth, staying calm. If I got down to his level, he would only get more upset.

"If I had wanted to waste my time, I would have trained with one of the gym's rookies,"Sukuna mumbled.

He sat on the stool and sighed heavily as he unlaced his shoes to enter the house. I could see the helplessness in his eyes at not having the demanding training he wanted. Having a perfect streak of 28 overwhelming victories, he hasn't had a rival who can match his level in years. Always being the winner means that you are not learning, and you are staying stagnant while others moved forward, Sukuna was afraid of being left behind.

I sighed as I understood his anger, putting the bowl aside to approach him. I took advantage of the fact that he was at my level to gently massage his shoulders. Even though I didn't do it with a romantic intention, touching him like that after weeks felt like drinking water in the middle of the Sahara. A temporary pleasure that I had to take advantage as much as I could.

"Do you know what it means that he didn't last more than 5 rounds?" I asked him while massaging his neck.

"I'm not in the mood for your shit," he mumbled, focused on his shoes.

"Let me finish!" I barked. "It means you're better than an Olympic medalist," he looked at me again, calmer now.

"You think?" he asked me, looking at me to deduce if I was saying it out of pity or not.

"Of course! You are the king of the ring, not just in the UFC!" I cheered, giving him a friendly pat on the arm.

"Not everyone can go against the king," he said with an evil smile.

It was one of those few times I've seen him smile like that. I'm glad to know that I could be of use to him outside the gym. I wanted to be the cause for him to smile more often, even if it meant he didn't feel the same way about me. A reality that I was willing to accept for the sake of both of us.

The fight between Aoi Todo and Toji Fushiguro was about to start. The current champion, Toji, entered shining his glorious belt with Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses in the background while the commentators read his statistics. Aoi, the challenger, Todo looked forward to the fight from the octagon. The crowd was excited, music was blaring from the speakers, and commentators were debating who would take home the belt. It was an important fight that deserved to be seen on the room's beautiful 80"inch screen.

"That son of a bitch," Sukuna snorted behind me, referring to Toji. He was in my robe as always before going to sleep.

"A talented son of a bitch," I joked. "Sit down and watch it with me."

"I'll watch it until I get sleepy," Sukuna scoffed as he sat next to me on the couch.

After formal introductions and the referee's instructions, the first round took place. The two mastodons faced each other face to face in a rain of punches and jabs that seemed to have no end. They were like two bulls striking each other with their sharp horns, making the plaza resonate with the power of their tackles. It was clear that Aoi Todo was a born boxer who did not allow himself to be intimidated by the enormous presence of Fushiguro with those beastly hits. Before Toji could take him to the ground, like he had done in the fight against Sukuna, the bell rang.

“Who are you rooting to?” I asked Sukuna excitedly.

"I do not know, and I do not care." he answered with a yawn. That answer deserved me to throw my empty popcorn bowl at him.

"It's a very important fight! You should know!" I scolded him as the TV went to commercial break. "Todo and Fushiguro have been fighting for the division title for 2 years. Both have won twice simultaneously. This is their fifth fight. It's the fight for 3 out of 3!” I explained. Sukuna shrugged his shoulders, downplaying it the importance it deserved.

"And who are you rooting for?" He asked me to make conversation as they returned to the fight.

"Aoi Todo is a magnificent boxer like you…". At the comparison, Sukuna gave me a killer glance. "Obviously, you are the best," I corrected before he killed me.

"That is what I thought."

"But Toji is a complete fighter, I am team Toji for life," I replied with a proud smile. Sukuna gave me another killing look, this time it was more stern. I really don't learn from my mistakes, huh? "Obviously I'm Team Black before that," I said with a guilty smile.

The champion threw a quick jab, but the challenger easily dodged it. Aoi responded with a combination of quick strikes that made Fushiguro flinched. He stumbled back, but stayed upright. He threw a wild right hand, but the challenger blocked it with his forearm. The challenger took the opportunity to launch a flurry of jabs that Toji dodged like a master. Aoi continued entering her field, causing Toji's back to hit the fence. He threw one last desperate right hand, but Todo dodged it and responded with a left hook that sent the champion to the ground.

"¡No!" I exclaimed upon seeing the knockout.

"Too bad…" Sukuna mocked me.

After my champion couldn't get up easily, the referee ended the fight. The challenger had won the fight with a monstrous knockout. The crowd roared and Todo raised his arms in victory as he ran around the octagon. He had defeated his legendary opponent and became the new champion of the heavyweight division.

"First words after defeating such an important rival?". The interviewer asked Todo as he celebrated with his team supporting him behind him.

Masterlist.

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Tag list: @maskedpacific @thepurpleempath @mazzd4 @charlie-xo @s0uldarling @sunako-0120 @berranurates @00frenchfries00

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one! :)

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respectthepetty · 3 months

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Pit Babe Colors Finale

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also.It's just colors and vibes here. It's been a chaotic journey, but it finally ends today, most likely with a character death, so . . .

Disclaimer: I'm just screaming this entire post.

Surprising absolutely no one, Barbara immediately forgave Charles. Like I wrote last week, I'll hold this grudge for both of us, Babe.

If this bastard is still alive by the end of this, there is no justice in the world.

Did he just give them a key to get out? They could just walk through a door, but . . . I'll take it. Kentana is trying to redeem himself. Now, KILL YOUR SHITTY FATHER, and you will earn the top place in my heart.

Don't do it, Way Way. Don't. I see you eyeing that man, but you will take zero bullets for Pete or Babe. Am I clear?! NONE! I don't care if you are wearing white compared to everyone else's black. You will not die. No.

I'm not even going to say shit about these two's colors because BIG RED JUST KILLED A KID!

OH FUCK! HE IS KILLING EVERYONE!

KIMBERLY! I LOVE YOU!

And this is why you deserve to die. Who does something like this? It's not a porn, sir. This is a murder. You're about to die. Not get laid.

WAYMOND, NO! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING DO THIS! NOOOOOOOOOO!

I know it's blood, but the 'smoke' being red too is great and I need more of it as BIG RED DIES FOR KILLING WAY WAY!

Y'all are letting Big Red talk too much while Way Way is just bleeding out on the floor, and I just need one of y'all to apply pressure to the wound so Way has a fighting chance. Please for the love of God. PLEASE! LET WAY LIVE!

Oh, shit, this is awful. Do NOT think about any good memories with this man who wore red in the past but no longer does for some wacky reason. Those memories are all tainted. He is awful. KILL HIM ALREADY AND GET WAY WAY TO THE HOSPITAL!

I HATE HIM! Barbara, don't you trade your life for Charles. Don't fucking do it. Charles came back from the dead once. He can do it again. KILL BIG RED ALREADY!

OH MY FUCKING GOD, YES! I LOVE KENTA! KILL HIM!

YOU KILLED YOUR SHITTY FATHER! YOU'VE DONE WHAT NO OTHER BL BOY HAS EVER DONE!

YOU WON MY HEART!

Now, someone go hug him! Pete what the fuck are you doing?! One boyfriend is dying and another is breaking down. DO SOMETHING, PETER!

I knew this was going to happen! I knew Way was gonna die taking a bullet for Babe. I knew it, and I'm still upset! WHY?! Why can't Peter have TWO boyfriends?! Why do we always have to kill someone to redeem them and to cancel them out of the poly plot equation. LET POLY HAPPEN!

Fuck, Alan is crying.

FUCK!

I will not be pacified with Jeffrey finally being consumed by blue. I'm still very upset about Way Way having to die instead of Peter just having two boyfriends.

Vegas' Hedgehog, I'm so over your ass! Red flowers?! At Way's funeral?! That is sooooo rude! What is wrong with you?! Read the room, you pretty bitch! RED IS OUT! Way died for the blue! THE BLUE!

I hate this necklace. I hate that Way is dead instead of being taken care of by his two boyfriends. Where the hell is Ken anyway?! Why is he not holding Peter's hand right now? WHAT IS THIS LIE?!

I trust your dad, Barbie, because he is wearing blue, but you have had to cry a thousand tears this episodes, and I pray like GMMTV's First, you stay hydrated because crying can wreck havoc on a thirsty body.

Y'all cannot fuck the grief away in the blue. You can try, but Waymond is still gonna be dead instead of having two boyfriends. This is a real problem, and I want it addressed. RIGHT NOW!

KIMBERLY! YOU'RE BLUE NOW!

Everyone is in blue, and then we have Vegas' fucking Hedgehog in those damn orange pants, and . . . AHHHHHHH *starts throwing clothes around the room and out the window*

Barbie is lighter. He is still black, but now he has the white mixed with it while he looks longingly into the eyes of his Blue Boy (who lied to him several times including lying about his death, pero I'll carry this grudge for both of us, Barbara)

Now why the fuck are you wearing red, Alan?! Why won't this show just let me have nice things?!

So . . . now that this is all over and I, unsurprisingly, did NOT get poly nor Kenta x Pete, I will be unblocking the tags because seeing black boxes on my dash is driving me crazy, and I need to reblog some GIFs of Kimberly, Alan, and Waymond x Peter x Kentana to fill this huge void in my heart where a poly plot would have perfectly fit.

I will never go back and watch this show with subs. Never. Whatever I got from it was exactly what I needed to get from it, and I need nothing else. Because what I got was a boy FINALLY deciding to

KILL HIS SHITTY FATHER

Kenta, you deserve my respect. You loved Pete. You helped all the guys in your own way. You killed your shitty dad. You committed queer wrongs, and I forgive every single one of them. You deserve a happy life, and I hope you are laying in Pete's bed with his arms around you thinking about what y'all will have for breakfast, so he can read your mind and go make it for you.

I like you.

I respect you.

I love you.

And so does Pete.

GIVE ME POLY, DAMN IT!

#pit babe #pit babe the series #the colors mean things #and they guided me the whole way through #color coded boys in love #episode 13 #Give me poly already!#Kenta is my favorite now

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copias-fluffy-asscheeks · 11 months

Text

NSFW Copia HCS

*𖤐*

He's been a switch all his life, having bottomed more at first, and in his time as cardinal due to a lack of confidence and or inexperience he preferred to let another take the lead, but now as Papa he's got more confidence(at least when donning the paint, it boosts his confidence a lot) and he is comfortable topping more, but still likes to be taken charge off at times.

Topping or bottoming, I don't care. this man is noisy and loud as FUCK. Whimpering, whining, moaning, gasping, groaning, babbling, begging and growling, you name it.

He doesn't really have any sort of favorite position, but he does enjoy cowgirl a lot, and he WILL have you (s)creaming and seeing stars during doggy style.

Ever the pleaser, this guy has the biggest oral fixation. And with big I mean HUGE (wink wink.)

Like. If you identify as female and or wear panties, he'll ask you if he can take them if you'll be gone for a bit, if he leaves for tour or anything, or he'll just keep them in his room. Whatever the circumstances he'll take them, lay them out on his face and inhale your scent like it's cocaine. He'll lick at the fabric to taste you and smell you as he jacks off to the thought of eating you out.

If you are a guy or identify as one, he'll stick his fingers down his throat and suck them, or beg you to let him suck your fingers. (Or your cock, of course, strap on or a real one, he doesn't care.)

Gender does not matter at all. Ass is ass, taints are taints. Thighs are thighs.

If you peg him or yall do anal, bend him over a desk, counter top, table, anywhere. He is a sucker for feeling helpless and letting you rail him up the ass like a good little boy.

Praise kink. PRAISE. KINK. As cardinal, hearing a partner tell him how good he was was infernal paradise. He felt so small and like he wasn't enough, and there you were calling him nice things and praising him, it hit him like music to his ears and he'd disparately hump your leg as you kept on his running your hand through his hair and praising him.

Even as a papa, even though he has more confidence, he still loves being praised, he works so hard, and hearing you call him a good boy as he does whatever you ask, or even when he's topping, he melts.

Is he an old man? Yes. Are those hips SMOOTH AS FUCK? Yes. Like, we have all seem the Jesus He Knows Me vid. The way his hips thrust and sway so smoothly while the rest of his entire body is just still, just hanging there? That hip control. Yes please.

No matter if he puts on a tough act, he'll always end up begging and whimpering even though he's in control whenever he's about to cum.

He's a sucker for some cuddle sex. Just laying there whilst you slowly make love, still in a spooning position and hearing all your soft gasps and pleas is hypnotizing.

Definitely gets you juice boxes and chocolates (and lots of kisses and snuggles) as aftercare, making sure your sugar levels are right.

Perhaps he'll give you a massage too if you're sore and you allow him.

bite his thighs.

Lick and suck at his nipples. They are sensitive. Play with them for long enough and he'll easily cum from just that, it's perfect.

Leave hickeys and marks on his insecurity and you will never hear him complain about them again. Connected to the praise kink, he loves some worship, giving, but most definitely receiving too. His cute soft tummy deserves lots of kisses.

*𖤐*

A/N: Kind of short but I'm having brain errors and I can't think of anything, but once my errors are over perhaps I'll make a part two to this.

Taglist: @sweatandwoe @lightbluuestars @ghoulettka @copias-girl @papasmicstand @random-bl-fan

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not-poignant · 4 months

Note

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance? What makes them better? I did not mean anything negative, and I know everyone have their own like and dislike but I want to know your thoughts....

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/ danmei) romances better than western MLM romances?

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance?

Because I had no choice for many years.

Because that choice was taken away from me by a homophobic, transphobic, queerphobic, acephobic society. So all the romances I read had to be heterosexual, all the romances I watched had to be heterosexual, all the romances I heard of had to be heterosexual.

Because I'm not heterosexual.

Because I never saw myself represented in any stories ever, for over about 20 years (queer stuff existed, but where I was situated in Perth, Western Australia, meant that I was not seeing it).

Because I was force-fed allonormative, heteronormative, heterosexual tropes, bullshit, toxicity, misogyny, patriarchal culture, rape culture and more, and because everyone assumed that was normal, which made me feel isolated, marginalised, alone, and bereft, and cut me out of knowing what a life could look like for myself, and made relationships harder, when you don't have the words or stories to latch onto.

People like me couldn't even be erased out of the media, we hardly existed in the media, and if we did, almost never under our real identities, and almost always having to pretend to be something we weren't, for many people who hated us, or wished we were dead, or simply didn't care about us at all.

So, when I finally got a choice, I made a choice.

And I do not want to read heterosexual content anymore, unless it's queer (like T4T). The only place I actually willingly consume heterosexual romantic content these days is like 80s and 90s and early 00s romantic comedies. It's the only thing I allow through my filter, because so many of them have a really strong bent of hurt/comfort in them, and it's rare to find movies that have this in general.

But yeah otherwise het is just not a thing I look for in fiction. Literally a squick. Literally reminds me of 20 years of oppression in the mass media. It's not inherently bad, it just wasn't good for me personally, to never have a choice.

So I made one :D And my life has been so much better for it. I'm never going back.

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/ danmei) romances better than western MLM romances?

It's just better for me, anon! I find a lot of western published m/m (so not like m/m fanfiction which I still read) often feels stifled and too short for me, and the characterisation doesn't get as deep as I want it to get. I often can feel the rigidity of the novel structure on authors who are trying to rapid release, and the depth I'm looking for is rarely there. Sometimes that's what people want! Sometimes they don't know there's other options!

Sometimes that's true of some BL manga/manhua/manhwa etc. as well. Tbh it's probably true of a lot of it! Serial format doesn't always allow for depth either. But I find the visual format easier to read as well. If I reread western m/m it's almost always fanfiction. And tbh, I'm sure some amazing m/m was published last year, I just get tired of having to wade through it all to find something I like. It got to the point where I was reading like 60+ titles just to find one average read, and I gave up.

The recommendation systems for BL tend to be better and more on point for me, I find most people who recommend published m/m to me generally always miss the mark (which isn't their fault - I'm particular, there's a reason I write what I write - because I can't find it to read!!), but close friends like @morbidlizard who recommend BL to me almost always hit the mark!

I don't actually read much danmei, but mostly because I haven't had time to really sink my teeth into it. Aside from MXTX, I haven't explored much further.

But yeah, hope that helps! :D

#asks and answers #personal #can't even put inadvertent recs on this #honestly 'rapid release' was kind of the death of it being easy to find a lot of good #m/m fiction being published #it's still out there it's just way more 'needle in a haystack'-y than it used to be #also there's way more fandom tropes like hurt/comfort etc. in manhwa and manga in particular #so it speaks a language i prefer #like Define the Relationship has SO many moments of hurt/comfort #just over and over again #i find published novel-format m/m just really kind of misses the mark on this #and honestly i include my own stuff in that #the novel format isn't super friendly to it #compared to the serial format #i'm sure that's not true across the board #it's just true 'so far'

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jinitak · 7 months

Text

Why I think much of Only Friends discourse here is flawed

TL;DR Western audiences expects Only Friends to be more progressive than it can be considering its situation. Only Friends is already a gamble by GMMTV as it is one of the first prime time series focusing on queer sex life to be aired on TV. As Thai audiences and censors are still quite conservative, GMMTV probably added some conservative messaging on sex and relationships to appease those people and for the series to be able to be aired during prime time. Much of the discourse didn't factor in these aspects.

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Note: I think I did a shitty job building up to the conclusion, I did not proofread this. I think the TL;DR captures the gist of my argument already.

I have noticed that much of the negative reaction surrounding Only Friends finale has been coming from Western audiences, this might just be me being in an echo chamber where people don't discuss BL series or it shows a divide in audience

I think the ending is catered to the Thai audience rather than Western audience which creates a crash of worldview. Thai dramas has always been filled with moralistic messages and almost always ends in a happy ending, this is already the case in plays as early as the late 1700s.

Even into the TV era, Thai audiences are also accustomed to the moralistic storytelling that ends in a happy ending, most Lakhons basically boils down to this. Branded ships also began in this era (I remember the Channel 3 heterosexual ships getting much popularity, although many of the couples actually married later on so IDK). Although as time progressed, audiences are more accepting of less moralistic storytelling, but still a general sense of good triumphing over evil is still present.

Coming into the BL boom, despite BL being a new genre at the time, Thai audiences still expected the same kind of things they expect from heterosexual lakhons and most Thai BLs still follow that. With the popularity of BL ever rising and fan service being an expected part of promotion, happy endings are kind of mandatory for BLs.

I think Only Friends ended the way it did because GMMTV understood Thai audiences. Much of the Thai audience watches a series for their favourite actors and only some watch for the story (as you can see from the amount of boring university BLs). Deviating too much from the standard pattern would only alienate viewers away.

Despite the picture the tourism board may be trying to presenting, Thailand is still a conservative society, many people still cannot separate sex and relationships. Open relationships and polyamory relationships are still being frowned upon.

Combined with conservative censors which rate BLs for a higher age level than heterosexual dramas with straight up domestic violence, without moralistic messaging, the show might get an 18+ rating and has to be aired after 22.00 (like Friend Zone) or even worse, not being able to be aired at all.

GMMTV probably understand this very well, pushing Boston's separation of sex and relationships as normal might as well be suicide. Much of the audience does not appreciate that view and the censor probably would not like that very much.

I think in their minds, pushing a show so involved with queer sex life into prime time is already enough of a gamble for them, risking that spot being taken away or alienating their (somewhat) conservative audience too is not a chance they's like to risk.

I think the production still should've pushed more for Boston to be accepted but in the end that was what we got. The negative reaction is justified.

I think the issue in the discourse right now is that Western audiences expect a liberal viewpoint being presented in this series, but in reality, Thai audiences are still quite conservative and for a boundary pushing show like Only Friends (Gay OK Bangkok amongst other works are not prime time shows and maybe not even shown on TV at all, that's why I said Only Friends is boundary pushing) has to make compromises to appease those audiences which ended with Boston ending up the way he did.

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Afterword: I think my analysis mainly focuses on cultural viewpoints rather than the content of the series, whilst Western audiences tend to do the opposite. This probably stems from my background in advocacy, which focus on cultural aspects when it comes to analysis.

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Feel free to respond or criticise, I want to hear differing viewpoints from mine as well. I agree with much of the analysis about the series here but feel that they are too overly critical because their analysis lack the cultural background that explains the thought process behind the decisions the production team made.

#thai bl #only friends #only friends the series #i said what i said

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waitmyturtles · 11 months

Text

Pain, Suffering, and Narratives in Some Asian Dramas/BLs (An Utterly Un-Scholastic, Highly Personal Big Meta)

I’ve been meditating on the topic of pain and suffering in dramas over the last few weeks, as conversations across Tumblr have been taking place regarding the success (or not) of the Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars episodes. I can’t help but connect these thoughts to some of the fabulous older shows I’ve been watching in my Old GMMTV Challenge watchlist project, where I’m catching up on older Thai BLs in order to better understand the fabulous works that we’re seeing airing now. This Big Meta in part comes out of my having just watched He’s Coming To Me and Dark Blue Kiss, but I was also very deeply inspired by a Japanese BL that many of us here have fallen in love with, Our Dining Table, that features a poignant moment recognizing that feeling pain is a necessity in feeling love for another person -- that accepting pain and suffering is a part of the life we decide to live, from an Asian cultural perspective.

I’m using some big generalities here, so let me explain where I’m coming from. During certain large portions of my life, I’ve explored either becoming a Buddhist, or at least practiced Buddhism, particularly Zen Buddhism. While the world of Western capitalism has unfortunately taken up the majority of my current time/life, I do still have a desire to learn more about the history of Buddhism and try to incorporate some kind of practice in my daily life.

The reason why I offer that caveat is that a core of teaching in at least the spaces of Buddhism that I’ve been privy to, is the recognition of pain and suffering in one’s life. Suffering is a core tenet of Buddhism, one of the Four Noble Truths, and one that a human being does good deeds or makes merit in light of (as we see quite often in our beloved BLs) in order to receive “good” karma for a happy existence in this life or the next. (Again, mad generalizations here, but you get the point.)

I’ve been thinking about this because I often wonder if us Western viewers (I count myself as one, as an Asian-American) are too demanding for linear, clean, direct, and/or happy communication, narratives, and endings, particularly in the realm of Asian BLs, in regards to either romantic love and/or love from one’s nuclear parents/family. I think about this very much in the context of the Asian BL genre, where queerness -- as accepted, OR NOT, in Asian societies, friend groups, and families -- may indicate an existence that is not necessarily a happy one.

There are other issues by way of demands from fans that often determine the outcome of a BL script, such as shipper demands for overtly sexual content. What I’m proposing here is that, in my opinion, some of the best dramas/BLs from Asia are rooted in a reflection and acceptance of the tenets of suffering as a natural part of Asian life and, subsequently, Asian art. I further propose that because of that acceptance of suffering, that we — Western viewers — are often left potentially feeling unsatisfied or unfulfilled by a particular ending of a drama. I posit that the linear/binary/clear outcomes that Western audiences so often demand are limiting in comparison to the non-binary, non-linear journeys and conclusions of art that Asian filmmakers can reach in their work, vis à vis à general cultural understanding that pain and suffering are a part of daily life.

Before I give a drama example, let me use one from real life, that is so very often reflected in art: filial piety. I wrote about filial piety quite a bit in my reviews of Double Savage, a non-BL from Thailand that focused on the plight of a discarded son who was judged by his father as a jinx.

When I try to explain to Western friends that Asian parental love is very often conditional (I myself have experienced it, and my experiences mirror those of my friends), I experience a lot of denial.

“There is NO WAY your parents don’t love you.” “There is NO WAY your parents will ever give up on you. Even if they treat you badly, they love you.” “In the West, we ALWAYS end up loving our children. That’s what society demands of PARENTS. We’re CONDITIONED to be like that.”

A major cultural competency issue that Western therapists face with Asian clients is when Western therapists say to Asian clients who are having family issues, “why don’t you just talk to your parents about what you’re feeling?” Talking to Asian parents about a child’s feelings, in MANY instances, is not realistic. The language of that kind of emotion may not even exist. AND, there are unspoken social boundaries AGAINST children having those conversations with their parents in the first place. To have those conversations would very well ROCK the foundation on which Asian families are structured.

My parents may love me — the dad in Double Savage mayyyy have loved his son? — but an Asian parent like that, so rooted in their JUDGEMENT AGAINST an offspring, will often not budge. Time and time again, my Asian friends and family will talk about how they felt unloved as a child -- especially if their skin was darker, if their siblings were more successful in school, if they were a middle child, etc. VERY often, our Asian parents don’t know what us children do by way of work -- my parents don’t know anything about my work, for instance.

The Western perspective and social demands for a STYLE of loving one’s children in a very particular, involved, and empathic way -- those cultural expectations don’t necessarily exist in Asia. So we see parents like, say, Non’s father in Dark Blue Kiss; or Korn’s father in Double Savage; or ESPECIALLY Uea’s mom in Bed Friend, a fantastic example of an Asian parent who takes PERSONALLY every aspect of her son’s social and sexual “differences,” blames him for those differences, and accuses him of ruining HER life vis à vis how he was born to be the way that he is.

And yet, at least for Korn and Uea -- we see those children, for the majority of their dramas, continuing to devote themselves to their parents. Because filial piety -- the Asian cultural and social demand for RESPECTING one’s parents above all else -- is existent and EXPECTED of almost EVERY living Asian, no matter where you live on the continent or your various diasporas.

The equation is: even if you suffer at the hands of your parents, even if you don’t receive unconditional love and empathy from your parents, you must sacrifice in order to respect and serve your parents. You can imagine how much therapy even one individual would need to process that -- if that individual even ALLOWED themselves to think about what was happening, which oftentimes doesn’t even happen.

I’m not saying that filial piety EQUALS suffering. What I’m saying is that the practice of filial piety will almost always ASSUME a level of suffering that one must undertake to participate in the practice of honoring one’s parents.

Where I felt this *assumption* most strongly and recently was in my viewings of three Aof Noppharnach shows: He’s Coming To Me, Dark Blue Kiss, and Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars, but I think Double Savage and Bed Friend also fall into this category as well. Very quickly:

1) HCTM was rooted in storytelling around the practice of Thai-Chinese Buddhism. Thun’s suffering was apparent: he was fatherless, he was gay, and could see ghosts. AS WELL, Med’s suffering was that he didn’t know how he had died, and why he was being held in purgatory before moving on to his next life.

2) Dark Blue Kiss was rooted in internalized homophobia. My big review of DBK is coming next week, but quickly, between the two main couples (PeteKao and SunMork), you had internalized homophobia playing various roles of emotional INTERPLAY, that AFFECTED the external emotional demonstrations of the character -- particularly in Pete, who was viscerally working on becoming a calmer person, but was triggered by Kao’s internalized homophobia to not be open about their relationship, and Pete’s jealousy subsumed him. DBK is the only show I’m mentioning here that has a clean happy ending for all couples involved, but more on that in a second.

3) OS2 x BBS x ATOTS, on the Pat and Pran side, was rooted in a clear but indirect conflict between Pat and Pran about openness and independence. If Pat and Pran had been open about their relationship (à la Pete and Kao) -- would Pat have needed to sound tough to his engineering friends that Pran *depended* on Pat to close loops? And on the Tian and Phupha side -- there is plenty we don’t know about Phupha’s past to make judgements, but I think it’s safe to say that he grew up in such a rural environment in Thailand as to make him assume that coming out and meeting his partner’s parents was an non-reality for the majority of their relationship, until the end of the OS2 series. The journey to get to the point of the ring was a tough one, particularly for Tian, who wanted more openness.

4) Both Double Savage and Bed Friend seem to end happily, especially for Uea and King in Bed Friend. But: Uea loses his parent. Yes -- he NEEDED to lose his mom, because of how toxic she was. But from an Asian family structure perspective -- he only has his sister by the end of that traumatic journey, which is not necessarily an IDEAL or complete ending. The bonds among Korn, Win, and Rung are permanently affected by the behavior of Korn and Win’s dad in Double Savage. The ending is a copacetic one -- they have survived, and will learn to survive together, after all the trauma they have lived through. But it’s not necessarily a HAPPY one. Both of these endings do not necessarily reflect the holistic ideal of the Asian family structure.

I emphasize all of this because, as I said earlier: I think a Western demand to CLOSE LOOPS in Asian dramas is unrealistic.

In Asian life (big generalization, but let me roll with it): you are angry at your parents, and you process it internally, very often without any help, and after a couple days, things go back to the way they were. The children do not demand change from their parents.

In OS2 x BBS, what I DIDN’T SEE -- and, from this framework, what I argue that I DIDN’T *NEED* TO SEE -- were any clarifying conversations between Pat and Pran about how either of them would CHANGE for their relationship. The biggest confession we got was Pat telling Pran, “without you, there is no me,” and Pran quietly agreeing (thank you to @lurkingteapot and @dimplesandfierceeyes for the incredible post on the improved translation of “I can’t live without you”).

But throughout the episodes, we saw their existence together, and arguably, their conditions -- how each of them has organized himself to comport to the other’s immediate needs. How Pran’s larger burden of keeping in the closet to keep his nuclear family structure stable kept them from being totally out, and how Pran designed fibs to be able to have at least one public demonstration of love between him and Pat on stage. They know they cannot solve intergenerational trauma in the span of a series. They’re still closeted two years later. And throughout all of this: how Pat digests Pran’s needs, and keeps his (Pat’s) own needs for openness at bay. We know he feels pain, too, when he makes his confession to Pran in Pha Pun Dao. We know he’s watching Pran as Pran hesitates to put on the bruise cream.

I feel that Pat’s acceptance of this existence is both heart-rending and utterly beautiful from the perspective of seeing Aof’s work as *Asian* art. I feel like, as an Asian, that I KNOW, that PAT KNOWS, what Pran has to lose. Pran has A LOT to lose. And so, Pat -- instead of demanding for outing and openness -- will hold what Pran needs him to hold. He knows when Pran is grumpy, and needs to be grumpy. And Pran’s got a lot to deal with. He’s got so much that he’ll need to go to Singapore, likely to get separation from his mother -- and that will result in him and Pat being separated (and I’m intentionally not analyzing Pran’s need for space from Pat here, but I think we can safely argue that, too, as Pat’s helpful attitude may smother Pran at times) (and there’s also the issue of the nuclear pain that Pat himself may feel at losing trust in his father for his father’s past foibles).

After the OS2 episodes, I didn’t need to know THE REASONS, the stark REASONING for why Pran needed to go to Singapore -- because, indirectly, it was already very clear to me that these young men were already holding tremendous burdens. Singapore, for Pran AND for Pat, could have ultimately been a motivator for growth. But I don’t need to know this. All I know is that they continue to have various levels of pain that they will be dealing with in their nascent adult lives.

While Dark Blue Kiss ULTIMATELY had happy endings -- how it got there was PAINFUL. Kao was ROOTED in fear that he would upend his family’s stability, while being the breadwinner. He was held back by extremely traditional role expectations of an older son. And he had no communication with his mother about straying from those roles. Pete’s dad served as the first -- and, I’d argue, maybe BL’s first -- paradigm-breaker as a parent, being SO open about his son’s queerness as to encourage healthy sex practices. But what I argue in this thesis is that up until the very last, bitter end, Kao was relegated to ASSUME that he would live in pain. His expectation was that Pete would ride with him. Pete couldn’t take it anymore and bubbled over. And Kao was forced to make a decision, for Pete’s sake, literally, to BE open, and to save the relationship. That shit ain’t easy.

Lots of folks who have read my posts on this site know that I appreciate a good Asian drama rooted in family and/or community trauma, like 10 Years Ticket. It’s the way in which Asian filmmakers depict this trauma that speaks very much to my life, my culture, and my viewpoint on what’s realistic in this world, and how that reality can be depicted in art. What I’ve found in watching Asian dramas is... I don’t always want clean endings. I don’t always want loops closed.

Sometimes, Asian kids can’t talk to their parents (Pran, Kao). If you grow up like that, you don’t immediately learn the language of intimacy for your family members, your friends, your lovers (Pran’s struggles after BBS/ep5, Thun’s coming out and not knowing the words for it). It might be EASY, or culturally UNQUESTIONABLE, to not argue with your parents about the ways in which they engage with their children (Korn, Win, Pran). Sometimes, to make a break in order to survive, you need to leave a toxic family member behind, which is NOT an ideal scenario (Uea).

Sometimes, you lose the love of your life (Ueda-san in Our Dining Table). Sometimes, you fall in love with someone — and you find that you can’t *exist* without them (Pat to Pran). And you have to live with the pain. I might even posit that the risk of that pain makes the love you have, either for the person living or the person passed, that much more meaningful to you.

I watch Asian dramas because I don’t feel like Asian filmmakers are subject to the Western demand to clean up all emotionally questionable loose ends. This is not When Harry Met Sally. Harry and Sally should have only remained friends, and not gotten married -- even Nora Ephron and Rob Reiner knew that -- but they also realized that Western audiences would not accept such an ending.

“The script initially ended with Harry and Sally remaining friends and not pursuing a romantic relationship because she felt that was "the true ending", as did Reiner. Eventually, Ephron and Reiner realized that it would be a more appropriate ending for them to marry, though they admit that this was generally not a realistic outcome.”

If I don’t get clean clarity in Asian dramas, I’m okay with it. My mind switches to the pain POV, that relativity mindset. Everyday life in Asian cultures can handle the weight of the painful and sufferable unknown. And that’s why I love these shows.

And, OF COURSE, not ALL Asian dramas are like this! Cherry Magic ended wonderfully. Old Fashion Cupcake ended beautifully. KinnPorsche ended sexily, if not a little confusedly (are they related? kinda? or not? whatever?). Minato’s Laundromat ended happily -- although we’ll see their relationship pain points in the upcoming second season. And we see relationship pain points in the ongoing drama of Shiro and Kenji’s relationship in What Did You Eat Yesterday -- all while they share their happy nightly meals together at their kitchen table.

Life is complicated. I posit that Asian dramas, for my taste, satisfaction, and cultural relativity, do a much better job at depicting that complicatedness than the West can ever do, and that’s why I stand so often on my soapbox to encourage Western viewers to understand these Asian cultural touchpoints more -- to learn about how we’ve accepted pain and suffering as an automatic given in our Asian lives, from our cultures, our spiritual practices, and from living amongst each other.

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humdinky · 7 months

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hey all! i just wanted to take a minute to stand on my little soap box and tell you about a manga i picked up last december. it has gotten much more attention since then, but i'd still like to throw my thoughts into the mix.

on the surface, the summer hikaru died explores a pretty common horror trope: what if a person you loved changed into something unrecognizable? do you reject them, or try to connect to the person that they have become? of course, this fear is twisted into something more threatening in a supernatural horror format. what if they literally died and came back as something else that could potentially harm you and your family?

we follow two teenage boys: yoshiki and his best friend (and one sided crush) hikaru, who goes missing in the mountains for a week and miraculously reappears unscathed. he looks the same as ever, but yoshiki can tell that what came back is no longer the hikaru that he once knew. now, yoshiki must come to grips with the fact that something sinister has taken over his friend’s body - and that it has a strong attachment to him.

that's the basic premise, but this manga is still ongoing and there are plenty of different directions it could take. if you haven't read it yet, it's worth experiencing firsthand. beyond the body horror are themes of grief and repressed homosexuality, as well as subtext to read into. i'm not going to be spoiling any explicit plot details, but i'd encourage you to stop reading this and go check it out if a bl manga with gorgeous art, toxic but engaging romance, and body horror sounds appealing to you.

the first thing you'll notice about this manga is that *chef's kiss* gorgeous art! it is uncanny, as you would expect, but it is drawn with so much care. the heavily detailed background art and visual horror create a rather oppressive atmosphere. the author also really excels at conveying character emotions through facial expressions, and there's a lot of very subtle bits of information that you can pick up from them.

being a body horror manga, this aspect is of course given extra care. when it gets supernatural, it takes on an oddly surreal quality. i'd even say that the transformations of hikaru take on an air of eroticism. that sounds out of place, but the author understands that the line between fear and attraction is thin. there is one scene in particular that would be very sexual if not for the absolute nightmare scenario unfolding before my eyes.

one of my favorite things about this manga is the confidence the author has in the reader. yoshiki having had feelings towards' the previous hikaru is never outright stated, it's just assumed that the reader will pick up on it. the village yoshiki lives in views homosexuality as some kind of curse, and the insecurity this creates in him is shown very subtly. the camera's gaze and the little things he says all convey this, like his apparent guilt over staring at hikaru shown through the shadow on his face. his fear of and attraction to hikaru's transformations also conveys this idea. he's also coping with grief in an unhealthy manner, and this is shown through the almost experimental way he's sometimes drawn. but yoshiki is not the only important character, and hikaru also has some depth. his character is harder to parse, but there's more to him lurking below the surface. he's more delicate than his outgoing demeanor would suggest. hell, it's understandable - being a literal monster means his position in yoshiki's life is extremely tenuous. our two main characters form a codependent relationship based on a fear of being alone, something very human and compelling in a messy sort of way.

something that i do not see being brought up quite as much is how tshd uses horror elements to discuss the fears around coming out and dealing with same-sex attraction. so much of hikaru’s internal struggle is such a wonderful metaphor. many of the moments between him and yoshiki serve as a dual narrative - the surface-level narrative but also this very delicate story about two boys from a rural village who realize they have feelings for one another. the whole story in fact is one giant metaphor for dealing with the anxiety losing who you thought you were and embracing concrete truths about sexuality and love.

overall it left me with some very strong first impressions. it is both an excellent horror manga and a nuanced exploration of loss and sexuality. i also find it very refreshing that their relationship isn’t built on any sort of deception or lies, and that yoshiki is aware that he’s an imposter, just not the extent of what exactly he is or what is happening in the town.

#the summer hikaru died #hikaru ga shinda natsu #hgsn #tshd #txt #manga #shounen ai #bl manga #manga recommendation #lgbtq #gay #horror #romance #certainly brings a new meaning to 'exploring each others bodies'#when im in a who loses his head first competition and my oponent is a gay white haired dude 😨

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lavendarlily · 2 months

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yeah of course my first fic for @phicphight is gonna be crack

for the prompt that wasn't a prompt by @faeriekit

am i doing this right?

prompt: PR096 - No prompt, just a note; I can't guarantee I understand the format of the prompts required here.

words: 777

click here to read on ao3

jack stumbles across something troubling, but finds the light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally. He had the house to himself. Jazz was at a study group, Maddie went to test some weapons in the field, and Danny… well, all Jack knew was that Danny wasn’t home.

Jack loved his family - so incredibly much that it was a miracle you could fit all that love into one man (even one at Jack’s size). Yet between the needs of his children and assisting his wife with her inventions, it was difficult to find a moment for himself. Believe it or not, Jack Fenton did in fact have interests and hobbies outside of ghosts. It was just hard to make time for them, and boy was that new yarn burning a hole in his crafts closet, just waiting to be used. First, there were a few techniques he wanted to research before really digging in.

He fetched the laptop from the basement, and grabbed a soda from the fridge on his way to the living room. Jack settled in, feet resting on the coffee table since Maddie wasn’t home to tell him otherwise. He opened the computer, and groaned to himself when a myriad of open tabs took over the screen.

He’d told the kids so many times! Close your tabs after using the computer! He was always afraid of accidentally closing or deleting something they needed or hadn’t saved. There was also a sense that looking through their history was an invasion of privacy, but whoever had used the computer last would have to give up that privilege. He carefully clicked through the tabs, making sure there wasn’t anything potentially important before exiting out of each one. At least his kids had been doing their homework - Shakespeare analyses, essay writing tips, and hey! They’d found a tutor through some site called ChatGPT that was helping them with their assignment.

He was almost done, ready to dive into video tutorials on achieving the perfect cross-stitch, when he paused. Though Jack tried not to linger on a page longer than he deemed necessary, this one caught his attention. An all too familiar face stared back at him - multiple faces - arranged against a blue background. Jack squinted his eyes at the search bar, reading it aloud.

“Tum-bl-er,” he said slowly. What the hell was this? Jack was certainly concerned at the amount of Phantom propaganda on the screen, leading to an even more troubling question: Which of his kids had fallen under the ghost boy’s spell to have ended up on a hell-site like this?

He scrolled through post after post of photos taken by Amity Park locals, elaborate drawings of the ghost kid, musings of his origins and whereabouts and… oh gosh… love-life. Who were these people worshiping Phantom like this? And why was Jack still looking at it?

It was like a car crash - he couldn’t look away. However, this led him to one post that finally gave Jack a semblance of hope.

Phic Phight.

Jack knew he was no genius, but he side-eyed the misspelling and continued to skim through the rest of it. Fighting was all he needed to hear, especially if there was a group of people who idolized Phantom like… this. The ghost kid needed to go. These people needed to be saved from his manipulation! The words “Team Human” jumped out at Jack from the text, and without needing any more convincing that this is where he needed to be, he clicked the link that led to where he could sign up.

He skipped through all the boring information and went straight into entering his information. There were a few questions he didn’t know how to answer, but he was Jack Fenton! Anyone who was organizing against the ghost problem that plagued Amity Park knew where to find him.

There were only a few questions left, labeled as “Prompts”. Jack wasn’t too certain what it meant, but he could only envision it as where to leave suggestions for the best ways to defeat and capture Phantom. He entered the words electrocute, net, and Fenton Bazooka. He felt a little guilty for not understanding the entire gist of what was going on, so he also left a quick note for the organizer in hopes they would be forgiving.

Jack clicked the submit button at the bottom of the page and smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to meet all these other folks interested in the well-being of their town. Team Human. It had a nice ring to it. He’d be sure to let Maddie know when she returned - who wouldn’t want the Fentons on their team?

And maybe… he could even get his boy Danny in on it too.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2024 #lavswordvomit

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shouldiusemyname · 9 months

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Only Friends - The Voice of the 80's Babies

Long post

Inspired by this post by @chicademartinica and bestie @thegalwhorants's comment about the wardrobe. Also this post from @blmpff which really made me think I'm in the right direction...

Before I get into this I just wanna say that I'm posting this very hesitantly as it's a very personal view of this show (possibly within the Jojo-verse). I might be reading too much into this and projecting my own experience and the fact that Jojo is about my age, but OF feels very much a reaction of my generation. I realize that most of what I'm going to say will sound familiar and relevant to everyone (not just 80's babies) but I'll try to explain the difference between what I read as a general generational experience and a universal experience.

I said it before and after watching the first ep it has never been clearer that Only Friends is what happens when 80's babies are given a chance to settle scores.

Everything about this show screams I WAS A TEENAGER IN THE 90'S!

First of all - the clothes! EVERYTHING they're wearing is like it's taken from my high school photos 😅 I know fashion is fluid and trends will make a comeback periodically, but given what I feel they're trying to say, I believe it's intentional.

The Sex of it All

It's like a direct reaction to the way we were raised and the relationship my generation has with sex. This is very regional and cultural, but generally speaking sex was not discussed as a natural aspect of life and relationships. Sex was either shameful, dirty, reproductive, or (the worst option) over discussed without healthy boundaries. My parents' generation didn't have the tools to discuss sex with their children in a healthy way because they were also denied this conversation by their parents. So, they either hid it or overshared.

So, my generation was raised (by western media basically) believing that everyone must have sex and our social standing is directly linked to whether or not we were having sex (who said American Pie?). We weren't given the option to have different views. We were trapped by this extremely deformed view of sex and relationships.

Watching this show and the discussion around it feels like creators are calling bullshit on everything we were told about sex.

Stuck in the Middle

I'm going to generalise here, but basically people who are just slightly older than us (meaning my generation) have this very black and white attitude towards sex - there's the right time to start having sex, your partner matters (in the way that you should be in love or in a relationship), relationships are monogamous, and kink is a deviation (don't even get me started on queerness - you were either gay, straight, or a crossdresser).

On the other hand, 90's babies were born into a much wider and open world that gave them the opportunity to get a much broader picture and view about relationships and how sex plays into them. This is even as basic as just having a wider vocabulary to talk about it.

My generation was, however, stuck in the middle, left to really hindsight our way through our perception of sex and its place in relationships.

In my 20's I've witnessed so many conversations where people were analyzed over the fact that they choose not to have sex like there's something wrong with them. Why are you not having sex? What's wrong with you? You're waiting for love? - don't waste your time. You're just going to fuck whoever? - that's just wrong. There's no winning.

Furthermore, when considering what Jojo said about the discussion around queer sex in queer shows and bl - my generation was raised with the idea that being queer (which was then just being gay) was all about who you have sex with. No one ever said anything about love or gender. When I was figuring out my own sexuality, being queer was about who you wanted to sleep with, not who you loved. We still see this today when people believe that our queerness is defined by whether or not we are having queer sex, and I believe this is at least part of what @bengiyo is talking about when he talks about the internalised homophobia. This is so much of my generation carrying and passing it on because we were denied these conversations.

So Now What?

Now, creating a show that is about sex, queer sex, and how it plays into queer relationships is reclaiming the conversation about queerness as an expression of love as well as sexuality. We deserve to discuss these issues as a generation that was denied these conversations whether queer or not. And somehow, these issues are discussed more freely and openly within queerness as it has the advantage of being free of heteronormative notions.

Another reason I believe this is generational is the fact that Jojo is consistently having this discussion within his shows. I don't know how to explain it, but his shows feel like screaming liberation, like he's walking around with a baseball bat (preferably Only Friends branded) and smashing these false ideas one by one. Which is why I believe we need to look at this show as part of the Jojo-verse shows along with The Warp Effect, 3 will be free and Gay OK Bangkok. Jojo is on a mission.

Expression Within The Show

Ok, so what am I getting at after I had you read my trip to the shrink?

I believe that ALL OF THIS is expressed in the show through the group dynamics we see in our friend group. They all represent different notions and they will fight over dominance. This is the power struggle that my generation is trapped in. We need and deserve to say our peace.

This is what I meant when I said that OFTS is what happens when you're an 80's baby with shit to say.

As usual thank you for reading my ramblings. I hope you get what I'm trying to say, and clearly have issues 😅 so feel free to comment and give perspective...

#my trip to the shrink #only friends #ofts #jojo-verse meta

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one-of-tankhuns-neurons · 3 days

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would you mind elaborating on what you see in wut's wife? your insight and meta has been awesome!!

– @ahxiang

Sure thing! Thanks for the ask

I know Ja has not been the most relevant character to the storyline but I believe she has a really important role in Joe's life and his view on things. As we know, our lovable MC lost his parents early on so he's always felt lonely.

Then, as we al know his dream is to build a home where he can "se the lights on after he comes back, smell food, and having some one ask -You're home?-" Where did he get those ideas for a family? From Ja and Wut. They have taken on a parental role for Joe, as he is comfortable staying at Wut's house on a whim.. and so it clicks

The lights are on

There's Ja waiting

She'll bring out food immediately

We can further see the way Ja cares for Joe as if he were her own child in ep4 when Joe runs straight to Wut's house after escaping from Ming and she doesn't back away from the drama, she steps in to hold Wut from snapping at Joe. If this was just "work issues" she'd probably step aside, but not this time. That's Joe we're talking about.

Also, when Wut tell's him his life is over he addresses Ja directly when asking for help. He also sees her as someone to lean on and curl up to when he's scared, and she doesn't know how to help him this time and we can see in her eyes how much she feels for Joe.

When the international production is mentioned her voice breaks while asking hime not to do it. She's as scared as Joe is, both her and Wut. As he goes as far as to threaten him just so he won''t risk his life.

My point here is, she's such an important person for Joe. She is the kind of adoptive mother who opens her doors for lonely people like Joe, let's them sit at their table and feeds them as if they were their own Kin. She is the one who showed Joe that family can happen. Found families keep being a recurring theme in BL because for queer people they're usually the most important ones and it's not always friends. These kind of mothers have saved so many lost children, I think that us seeing her pregnant immediatly is for us to think of her as that, a MOTHER, not just as a wife. I'm certin we will see more of her in the coming episodes.

#My stand in #my stand in the series #am i projecting myself?#definitely #up poompat #mek jirakit #poom phuripan #ming x joe #thai bl #queer shows #boys love #found family

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sleepy-gee · 1 month

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snowjanus week- day 1: literature

❝ don't you let go! ❞

lotr au, based on rotk. mostly based on the movie since it's been a hot minute since I've read the book in which coriolanus and sejanus finally arrive to mount doom. the journey is finally over.. or is it?

trigger warnings: major charafter death, suicide, heavy trauma

a/n: if you've seen lotr and read the title.. you probably know what this is about fhensn

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.”

― JRR Tolkein

"We've done it," Coriolanus wants to tell himself. So, so desperately. "The journey is over. We can go home."

No matter how much you say something, though, it doesn't make it true. They're only halfway done, after all. They still have to make it out of this blasted mountain and walk home. Another year or so of walking. No food or water to carry them on. The Ring will have been destroyed, sure, and the army's of Mordor will surely begin to fall, or weaken in the slightest, but that doesn't mean everything will suddenly become easy.

The only reason the Ring was destroyed was because of the horrible creature, Gollum. In a way, Coriolanus owes everything to the Hobbit. Without his guidance and obsession over the One Ring, he wouldn't have made it to Mordor so easily. It wouldn't have been destroyed.

"The Ring is mine, Sejanus." The words fell from his tongue so, so easily. What was the point of resisting anymore? It had stuck with him this long. The Ring was notorious for going from bearer to bearer, but it had yet to leave him. Maybe it was a sign– A sign that he was the next in line for the throne.

"No. No, you can't–" Sejanus sobbed. He took a heavy step forward, and then another, pleading. Coriolanus slipped the Ring onto his finger and vanished from sight. He made a beeline for the exit, only to find himself pulled back by Gollum.

The two would tumble, resulting in Coriolanus getting his index finger bitten off by Gollum in a desperate tussle for the Ring and them both tumbling over the edge of the cliff. Gollum fell into the lava below, taking the Ring with him, while Coriolanus was able to catch the ledge with his mangled hand.

He was able to tell the second the Ring was destroyed. He could feel it in his soul, he dare thought. He would've cried in relief if his life wasn't in danger. Coriolanus tried to haul himself up, reaching up with his uninjured hand. When he caught the ledge and tried to pull himself up, he slipped, only able to catch himself by luck.

I'm trapped. He thought as his hand began to slip. It's a good ending to my story, I suppose.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.. When a warm, familiar hand fell over his.

"Coryo! Open your eyes!"

Sejanus. Dear Sejanus. His eyes were wide with terror, blood dripping from a giant gash on the side of his head, coating his already muddied face in crimson.

"It's me, your Sejanus. Give me your hand!" Sejanus reached down, yelling over the rumbling of the mountain. It was going to erupt any second now, surely. The Ring was the one thing keeping Mordor together, and with the Ring destroyed, Mordor would follow blindly, like a soldier into battle. "Give me your hand!"

Coriolanus swallowed heavily, swinging his hand upward in a half-hearted attempt to grab his friends hand. The shaking was getting worse. His mangled hand's grip wasn't enough–

A dark thought crossed his mind.

He could let go now. He'd fulfilled his mission, destroyed the Ring and saved his home. His friends. Everything he ever stood for. The last great evil of Middle Earth had passed.

And a hero deserves to rest.

He glanced up at Sejanus with tired, tortured eyes. A gaze that once held so much life.. So much joy and love. A gaze that told a thousand stories in a second.

But now? It begged to be freed.

Sejanus lowered himself further, blindly pawing at his hand. "Come on!"

Didn't he get it? Didn't he understand? Heroes are lucky if they get to choose the ending to their tale. Coriolanus has that choice.

He was tired. Withered down to the bone. When he looked into his future, all he saw was darkness. Not the comforting darkness you get when you sleep, but the void of life.

"Don't you let go! Don't you let go!"

If only it could be that simple.

There's no other choice.

Coriolanus swung his good hand up again and managed to grasp Sejanus' hand.

Sejanus' face flooded with relief. Coriolanus gave his hand a firm squeeze.

Before letting go.

He could barely make out Sejanus' cry for him over the roar of the mountain.

When he hit the fire below, it hurt.. But only for a moment.

Then, came the darkness he had longed for.

#snowjanusweek2 #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #thg #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #coryo snow #sej plinth #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus #coryo x sej #lotr #lotr au #return of the king #rotk #heed the warnings

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arcielee · 1 year

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Farewell Wanderlust

Warnings: SA mentioned in passing/implied, abuse implied, death mentioned in graphic detailing (because it was deserved) and overall sexism because it is the 9th century. As always, MDNI, 18+ Pairing: Osferth x OFC Word Count: 4857 Summary: Torn from her home country, Keavy finds herself trying to survive across the Irish sea. She happens across Uhtred and his motley crew, and finds herself befriending a monk who is determined to become a warrior. Author’s Note: This chapter is definitely a hybrid of the show vs the books, with me adding flare to what happened to fit the narrative for this story as it is the fanfiction way. Anyway, enjoy. 💜 Thank you to my darling beta reader @aspen-carter for helping me with this chapter. 💜 Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Dividers are by @saradika Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @triscy @assortedseaglass @whoknows333 @shesjustanothergeek @heavenly1927 @greenowlfactif @larlarle @babyblue711 @fangirlninja67 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauftivy @tssf-imagines (bold means I was unable to tag you!)

Chapter 4

Coccham thrummed with the return of their lord, and his stride brimmed with an almost arrogance as Uhtred entered the great hall. Keavy thought it endearing to see how he greeted Gisela, how she glowed when his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

“I have the monk you sent me,” she said, pulling back with her brow raised, her lips curled upwards.

Uhtred had his own roguish grin. “He has left that life behind and wishes to serve me instead.”

Now both her brows raised, with a hum to acknowledge what he said, and then Gisela beckoned to Keavy to follow behind as they moved back towards the small side room. With their entrance, Osferth pushed to sit upright, his dirty blonde hair mussed, and he smothered a groan. He looked expectantly around before his gaze settled on Gisela.

“I understand you left the monastery,” her tone held no judgment, and her smile remained on her lips. “You truly wish to serve a heathen, Osferth?”

Keavy peered at Uhtred and saw his brow quirked, his expression amused by his wife’s blunt tongue, but Osferth remained focused, his lips pursed in a thin line. “My uncle Leofric told me your husband is a good man, lady,” and he then looked up to meet her eyes. “A great man.”

“He said that?” Uhtred of Bebbanburg had a presence preceded by reputation; he was fearsome, tall and built solid, but with Osferth’s words, he seemed to soften at the mention of Leofric.

“Yes, he did, lord.”

Gisela ignored her husband, her eyes still focused on Osferth. “And yet, this good man will let you join him for one reason only,” and then she looked to her husband. “To embarrass Alfred.”

His gaze fell back to Uhtred and he nodded. “It’s true.”

Osferth brought his legs to the side, pushing himself to stand; though Uhtred was tall, he just peeked just past his height. “That may be the reason you allow me to join you, lord,” and there was a determination that burned, complementing the blue of his eyes. “But I will give you a reason to let me stay.”

Amusement flickered over his features again, and then Uhtred called for them both to be brought to rooms of their own, back at the barracks that housed his men; there were vacant rooms at the end, with Osferth’s next to her own.

And Keavy began to find a sense of comfort within Coccham’s walls, beginning with the friendships of Gisela and the abbess.

As a grown woman, Keavy had a newer appreciation for the wit and the conversation of Lady Gisela, and she adored Keavy in return, as well as the extra set of hands to help her with the homestead. The children were taken with the Irishwoman: Stiorra was fearless with her affections, whereas Oswald was more reserved, but still offered shy smiles and would always come when she called.

The friendship that blossomed with the abbess felt forced at first; Keavy eventually understood that Gisela must have confided in Hild and was relieved to know the abbess’ disposition never changed. Instead, she seemed to exude a warmth with her understanding, her blue eyes watchful and kind as Keavy began to share, little by little, what truly happened in Lunden. In return, Hild shared the horrors that Uhtred rescued her from, and she gifted Keavy the chainmail she wore for her years when she fought at his side.

Keavy felt choked from the gesture, from finally admitting out loud, “I feel broken, Hild.”

The abbess’ hands still held calluses, though they started to soften with prayer, and her touch was warm, like a balm to the ache that Keavy carried still. “I did as well, for a long time, and I burned through that anger I carried as I fought alongside Uhtred,” she began, and Keavy felt lighter with her confession. Hild smiled. “But it clouded my mind, kept me from the true purpose of my life and the plan that God–”

Keavy could not smother her groan and Gisela’s laughter was light above them, calling to the abbess. “Hild, remember we sit in a pagan hall,” she teased, a gold glitter that danced in her hazel eyes. “Keep your God within the four walls that my husband allows you and allow us our own beliefs.”

Hild held up her hands, her own good-natured smile worn, and Keavy looked to Gisela. “I believe in the true gods, Keavy, and I see that you have been brought here by fate,” she finished, her smile as though she was aware of more than she gave on.

Fate, how it echoed in her mind with uncertainty, something she pushed aside with crimson cheeks that accompanied her daily routine.

Which included her instruction to tend to Osferth.

Keavy would wake him with a soft tap on his door, bringing fresh bandages and a plate to share their morning meal. She enjoyed his company, how he was not shy to share about himself and she listened with rapt attention, with a rose color dusting her cheeks.

Osferth shared his origins, how he was King Alfred’s bastard, though the weight he put behind the word meant nothing to Keavy as she viewed that his blood still held royalty all the same. When she said this, she watched how his dimples lined his cheeks with his pursed smile, “It is not the same, my lady.”

And Keavy was lost in her thought of how handsome Osferth was, dimples and all. “I am not a lady,” she reminded him, her complexion almost crimson.

As time healed him, she saw how his skin mended together, the bold pink stripe of new skin across his chest, and how the bruising faded into muted shades of green, peeking beneath his chest hair. Osferth was lean, but without his shirt or his albe, she was able to admire the tone to his lithe figure and the pale planes of his chest; she was so lost in her thoughts, her fingers were soft to trace his scar, from his shoulder until the middle of his chest before she realized the intimacy of her touch.

Osferth was watching her, the brilliant blue of his eyes wide.

Her hand dropped to her side. “You are healed enough,” she announced, her voice too loud, moving to gather the clean cloths she brought with her. “You have no need for these…”

She burned, too focused to notice how he reached for her, her name fell from his lips, “Keavy…”

And she recoiled from his voice, her mortification boiling under her skin. “Excuse me,” she rasped, leaving his room and fleeing back to the hall where she found Gisela and Hild at the large table. They were startled with her abrupt entrance, their attention focused on the red that bloomed on her pale features.

While Hild tilted her head, her brows knitted above, Gisela wore her same knowing smile. “How is Osferth fairing today, Keavy?” her tone teasing, as always.

She was grateful that Osferth was a gentleman, not breathing a word about earlier and accompanying her when she took the children out from under Gisela’s step. He lifted Oswald to his shoulders, with a slight grimace still, and Stiorra rested on her hip and a quilt on the other, and they walked out to a knoll in a nearby meadow.

It was one of the last sunny days of the season and Keavy laid the quilt on top of the grass, a place to sit as she braided daisies into Stiorra’s curls. The boys found sticks and Oswald preened for the praise as Osferth corrected his stance, while the girls’ cheeks were rosy from cheering them on.

The evening was her own, as always; after supper was had and the children were tucked into bed, Keavy was able to wander through the village. Often, Osferth would join her, his long legs easily keeping with her pace, his eyes watchful as she explored what she considered to be her newfound sanctuary.

As the autumn months crept, an evening frost accompanied it, and a large bonfire was often made. They seated themselves on a log, talking under the night sky by the crackling fire, long after Coccham was lulled to sleep. Osferth stood, reaching for her hand, a habit that remained and she was always glad to take it still, and he walked her back to their rooms.

Her cheeks burned within his peaceful proximity, and she shyly admired his sharp features. In the daytime, she was able to speak freely, unabashedly, and enjoyed when she could cause cracks in his stoic demeanor, to see the upwards curl of his lips.

But in the quiet of the night, underneath the stars that sparkled against the navy velvet sky, she felt her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth, an inability to string two words together before they arrived to her door.

“I never thanked you,” she almost whispered and she peered up. His face was shadowed with dark, an offset amber hue from a lone torch still perched in the sconce outside; her cheeks grew warm, her gaze falling down. “For saving me that night in the woods.”

Osferth hummed, a finger curled under her chin and brought her eyes to meet with his. “You saved me first,” he reminded her, a soft curl to his lips. “Sleep well, Keavy.”

She slipped into her room, the door closed quick and quiet, her backside pressed against and she covered her face. She could feel the heat of her blush against her palms and her fingers flitted to her jawbone, to her marment; it was a reminder of her lot in life, of her place and purpose supposedly ordained by the Christian God, if she wished to entertain the words spoken by holy men and women.

She was a shadow of a nursemaid, serving an unpayable debt, and possibly cursed, if she chose to believe the slavers. And Osferth had the blood of a king that she knew thrummed underneath; he was honorable, and held no resentment with his disposition, just an understanding of his place in this world.

“I am cursed by God because of my birth, the sins of my father have already doomed me,” he once shared the night they watched Æthelflæd arrive with her new husband. Keavy could see the similarities between his sister, how they shared the severity that Osferth carried in his features.

“I am cursed as well,” was all she said in response, and she did not dare look to him.

His words embedded into her mind, pushing aside the so-called fate of the gods, and she saw his drive, his determination to create from nothing. There was a flicker of disappointment when Untred denied him to join the men to retake Lunden, how Uhtred pressed his fist into his shoulder and Osferth flinched, subtle, but enough to be decided that he would remain in Coccham still, to continue to gather his strength.

Silly girl, she chided herself, pulling from the door and undressing for bed. She knew soon enough that Osferth would be well to go and fight alongside Uhtred, and she would remain in Coccham, braiding daisies into a crown for Stiorra to wear.

And she laid down with the heavy acceptance of this fate that Gisela spoke of, though her last thought was his touch: how right it felt when he held her hand, how gentle his touch was when he tilted her chin upwards to meet with his gaze…

+ + + +

The first four years of his life was spent in the shadow of the family his father had, separate from the mother he never knew and who died bringing him into the world. His brother was too young, but his sister Æthelflæd always regarded him with a curiosity, a kindness that he did not receive anywhere else in the court.

Osferth only had one memory of his father, remembering how large his hands felt holding his own, and the hereditary severity that lined his features. Dusk was settling over Wintanceaster and the king walked brisk strides across the cobblestone, pulling Osferth to keep with his pace.

He recalled when they passed the queen, how her dark eyes glared at him in an unsettling way, in a way that pierced into his chest. Her gaze never faltered, holding his siblings tight at her side; Edward seemed sleepy, and Æthelflæd seemed confused with what was happening.

The queen’s heated gaze followed him, as he looked over his shoulder to see her, leaving Wintanceaster for what he thought would be forever.

Osferth was quick to understand that this haunted look would follow him throughout his life, something that would accompany the title bastard. Sometimes it did not hold the heat, the hatred of the queen’s eyes, but cruelty all the same with smirks and scoffs, always some visceral reaction.

This was, of course, until he met Keavy.

His first morning in Coccham, he laid in his bed and listened for the soft tap on his door; he groaned quietly as he sat up, the wound across his chest felt as if it was tearing open with his movement, with a bruising that bore down into his bones.

Despite the early hours, her smile was bright and she held a tray with fresh bread, cold cuts, cheese and some sliced fruit. He chewed quietly as she then fretted over his injury, unabashed with his shirtless state, her fingers flitting over the gash and a soft hum or tsk that rolled off her tongue.

He enjoyed how Keavy was open and honest with him, how easy it was to speak with her. There was no judgment that clouded her green eyes when he finally admitted that he was a bastard, how she did not even flinch at the word. “So, you have the blood of a king in your veins,” she stated, as if it was the simplest thing.

Until then, the taste of the word was bitter, something he had to learn to not react when it was spoken with venom. Though he was grateful that Uhtred housed both him and Keavy, there was the fluttered anxiety that rippled in his chest when his lady wife admitted to the real reason her husband allowed him to stay.

The short time with Leofric had him imposing the thought that a man’s worth was carried in his sword and Osferth was determined to be just that; he wished to create a name outside that bastard smog that followed his steps.

But for now, he did not mind the reprieve for his recovery, nor the company of Keavy.

His chest healed without infection, thank God or the gods–he was no longer certain. When Keavy came that morning, he watched how her pink lips pursed as she looked him over; the rose color that bloomed on her cheeks was lovely and his skin prickled from her soft touch as her fingers trailed his scar.

Osferth was silent, unmoving. He watched the sudden crimson to her cheeks when she realized, but he had been too slow to catch her hand as she pulled away, all by sprinting to leave his room.

It left him flustered, his mind cluttered from her touch, something that felt so intimate in the moment. But her reaction left his stomach curdling with a misplaced feeling. Guilt? His anxiety returned?

He dressed quickly with the intention to follow, instead running into the Irishman and the Dane. They saw the shades of red that plumed on his features. “What’s going on, lover boy?” Finan spoke up, his voice loud as always.

Osferth was aware that they did not consider Keavy the conventional beauty that they would lust over; any time alone with them involved them crowing about his crush, saying it would dissipate the moment his cock was wet. He ignored their words; Keavy was a kind of beauty that resonated from within, something so uniquely her own, with her fine figure, her fair skin, her eyes as green as the meadows that lead to Coccham…

He disregarded their unsolicited advice–”Go and just kiss her already!”–instead he sought her out, shadowing her task to watch the children that day. He knew that the evening would be their own, and that they would be able to speak freely, boldly, without prying ears.

This was when she opened about the horrors of Lunden, before they had arrived, and it awoke something within him that he had not felt before.

A bloodlust, a want for vengeance, and the need to gut the one-armed Dane, Sigefrid Thurgilson.

Uhtred denied him joining to go to Lunden, but took to heart his words spoken–to gather his strength. He found Finan and Sihtric, and they agreed to show him pell stances, ways to train and prepare to be a swordsman.

Osferth felt weak at first, a soreness that touched every muscle within his body, but it soon dissipated as he pushed through. Then the men returned and he saw a darkness that accompanied them, along with the news that his sister had been taken by the Danes.

It was a white heat of anger that flitted across his brow before his stoic nature settled again.

He had only regained his sister, remembering how he watched with Keavy from the shore as Æthelflæd climbed onto the docks, walking the shadow of her husband, her mouth a tight line.

Osferth saw her again later that night when she left the church the nun Hild brought up, hearing her soft steps and seeing her cheeks were wet with tears. He had been making his way towards the barracks, but held still at the sight and she stopped, spotting him, her hands wiping her face.

“Lady,” he was quick with a formal greeting, bowing his head.

“Osferth,” her voice was sad and he met with her eyes, glassy from her tears. “I… I have not expected to ever see you again,” and a soft smile came to her lips. “Did you come to Coccham to spite our father?”

Her words warmed his chest with how she openly admitted to the relationship that so many skirted around, or would openly jest–other than Keavy, of course. Osferth watched her for a moment, seeing how their father reflected in her posture, with the same severity of her gentle features.

“Yes I did,” and his own lips curled upwards in response.

He offered to escort her back to the great hall, where they would expect her husband. But with the mention of Lord Æthelred, he saw how his sister darkened, in the same way Keavy flinched with the mention of Dane Sigefrid. And he knew that he was not a good man.

It curdled in his stomach that night, the news of her capture rekindling that burning vengeance and he felt its grip on his heart.

“Lord,” he called when he saw Uhtred. “I will come with you.”

Uhtred noticed how his jaw ticked with his words. “You will come when we have reason to go,” he placed a hand on his shoulder. “When Sihtric and Rypere come back with news.”

Rypere returned and soon enough they were called by the king for negotiations, the similar echo to the time in Lunden–all ego, and without a satisfying conclusion. As they returned homeward, Osferth saw the worry that lined Uhtred’s face, though he did not learn its cause until a private moment with Finan, when Uhtred shared the truth of his sister, and what she was asking of them.

“She loves him,” Finan almost laughed at the idea, his tone incredulous. “Did we just not attend her wedding to another man?”

“He is not a good man,” Osferth cut through, and he did not expand. Instead, he looked to Uhtred. “What must we do?”

They returned to Coccham, to rest, to plan, to wait until Sihtric came; Osferth felt the anxiety knitting into his lower abdomen again, and his steps brought him to Keavy’s door, rapping his knuckles against the wood.

She opened it, pulling a shawl over her simple cotton dress, its burgundy tones bringing out the emerald of her eyes. “Osferth?” Her tone was a mixture of her pleasure, of her surprise. Keavy stepped aside, opening the door to allow him inside. “What is the matter?” And he was a dam broken, reliving the prior days and its events: from the debt of Wessex to his sister’s true-heart desire. Keavy held a quiet contemplation, allowing the spate of his words that broke down the concern he felt for his kin. “You only want the best for your sister,” and her simple words were a balm, a warmth that soothed the knot in his chest. “What do you need from me?”

He had not thought of that when he knocked, balking a moment before he said, “...I thought I would come for that promised haircut.”

The returned rose color that flushed her cheeks, her smile that tugged at his heart in a way he could not describe. “Very well, allow me to get the scissors from Gisela and we can do that later this evening, once Stiorra and Oswald are asleep.” Her eyes met with his own and he swallowed thickly when she added, “I will come to your room.”

Ofserth was waiting for her when she came that evening, the same soft tap to his door. Inside, he moved to seat himself on a stool, his legs long and his knees jutted up with his feet on the floor. He closed his eyes as she combed through his hair, humming when she replaced it with her fingers.

Keavy was methodical and he listened to the clipping sounds of the silver edges, his dirty blonde locks falling to the floor around him as she trimmed away the last remnants of his days at the monastery.

It was quiet and she set the scissors down; he felt her hands rubbing over his scalp, brushing away the stray hairs and it tickled his ears as it fell to the growing pile. She stopped, her hands paused to cradle his cheeks and he opened his eyes to see the green of her eyes watching him.

He reached to cup one of her hands against his cheek and her eyes met with his, with the slight quirk of her brow. Osferth took a breath, turning his face and pressing his lips against her palm, before releasing his hold and letting her hand fall back to her side.

Keavy watched him still, her pink lips parted and wet from her tongue, and he pushed to stand, daring to close the space between them, his large palms settling on the small of her waist. “Keavy,” his timbre low and he saw the flush of color deepen on her features. “May I kiss you?”

She nodded mutely and his palms knitted behind, cradling her lower back and pulling her against his chest; Keavy pressed to her toes, the sweetest sigh that spilled from her lips–

“Baby monk,” the unwelcome bark of the Irishman jolted them apart, accompanied with the hammered sound against the door. Finan pushed it open, his dark brows lifted at the sight of Keavy, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes as he looked Osferth over with a wry smile that spread across his jaw. “I see you have a new era about ya,” he teased, his hand running over his own low cut. “Looks good on ya.”

“Thank you, Finan,” Osferth was flushed, his eyes glancing at Keavy before returning to the Irishman and his smug expression.

“Sihtric arrived,” he finished. “It’s time to go.”

He then dipped through the door, leaving them behind with their broken moment. Osferth moved to grab his scabbard, though he wished to grab Keavy, to pull her close once more; instead he knotted the leather around his slender waist.

When he finished, he paused for a moment, his hands balled then his fingers flexed before he looked up to see Keavy. She was standing still, her hands folded in front, her eyes still watchful. Osferth nodded his head and as he left, something caught his sleeve and he looked back to see her fingers pinching the fabric of his albe.

“Return to me, Osferth,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

There was the subtle curl of his lips and he reached for her hold, bringing the back of her hand to lips for a kiss, savoring her smell of lavender and thyme. “I will, Keavy. I swear it.”

That moment replayed in his mind as he met with the men, the hurried relay of the note Sihtric brought and a quick departure from Coccham. They rowed eastward, easing the boat to dock a ways up and away the main docks of Beamfleot. The followed the shadows of the woods that lead towards the fort; Osferth felt the flutter of his nerves, as well as the gaze of Uhtred. “Are you afraid?”

“Am I even allowed to admit that?” Osferth asked back.

Uhtred shrugged. “Osferth, at times we’re all afraid. Courage is just finding the will to overcome that fear. Nothing more,” he reached and placed his palm on his shoulder. “But you must find that courage.”

Ahead, they spotted the Danes that lined the dock, more than was initially thought and a hazard to their escape; with Uhtred’s command, there was a frenzied onslaught and they left the bodies to litter the Temes.

They pressed until they reached the walls that surrounded the burh, a ruction echoing the stones. Osferth was offered to be hoisted upwards, and even with his lean length there was still a struggle to climb over the battlement, but he managed to land on the cobblestone curtain wall.

He followed this pathway, finding it unguarded, but remained low, unseen; once he understood he was truly alone, he dared look over at the clamor of Danes that drank and bellowed below in the fortress. From his spot, he also saw the smoke that began to pour from the Great Hall, accompanied with yells.

He was quick to return and called down. “Lord,” his chest heaving. “Fire!”

“Jump down, baby monk,” Finan called back. The gates creaked open and Danes poured through, spilling and coughing through the mouth of Beamfleot.

Osferth instead returned, ignoring the yell of the Irishman; he moved quickly, his eyes burning in the smoke that rose, but did not stop until he spotted Æthelflæd, the stream of her dark hair as she followed behind a blonde Dane; he pulled her with urgency, and the roar of his name echoed over the chaos.

“Erik.”

And Osferth saw him, the same Dane from Lunden, his eyes black and his knifed hand glinted from the growing flames. He moved, peering over the stone wall at the gate’s top, watching how the Dane escort paused, how Æthelflæd now pulled at him, begging him to run.

“You dare betray me, brother?” Sigefrid roared.

“I will pay your share of the ransom,” Erik pulled away from her, both covered in soot and she was stanced with the desperation to run still. But instead, Æthelflæd watched.

There was the disarray of Danes that fled the fire, paying no mind to the ruined fortress or the ruined kinship. Sigefrid laughed, dark and boisterous. “And how will you pay?” His voice was cruel. “In what? Piss?”

“I will pay the ransom,” he insisted, almost pleading.

Sigefrid moved towards him, swelled with fury, and only then did Erik unsheathe his own blade, both hands curled around the grip. “You couldn’t pay a goat to lick the sweat off your balls,” and with those words, Sigefrid lunged at his brother.

There was a clash of steel that rang out and Osferth saw the astonishment that played on his face as his brother parried, gutting him with the knife embedded on his arm. Æthelflæd screamed her heartbreak, watching the blood pour from this man she swore she loved, and she screamed again when Sigefrid turned his attention to her, pulling back his bloodied hand and stalking towards her.

“Æthelflæd!” Uhtred ran to the outside of the wall, Finan and men in tow. The distraction halted Sigefrid at the entrance and without a thought, Osferth drew his sword and leapt over, crushing down on top of Sigefrid, his sword piercing through his chest and lungs.

The Dane did not cry out, only the wet hissing sound of his life leaving his body as they both crumpled to the ground. His shins burned, but Osferth stood upright, looking to his sister, then to Uhtred.

He saw how his eyes shone with a new admiration of the bold behavior of the bastard; Uhtred then looked to Æthelflæd, taking her hand and he called for his men to follow.

Osferth pulled his sword from the dead man and then cut through his forearm, then reaching to grab the blade, the blood nub thumping to the dirt. He then slipped it around his waist and followed after, leaving Beamfleot to burn.

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#the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #osferth fanfic #osferth fanfiction #osferth x oc #osferth x ofc #osferth x keavy #we need more osferth fanfic #slow burn #farewell wanderlust

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silviakundera · 4 months

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DRAMA REC: So I feel like any real review of Thai drama Moonlight Chicken is hard without heavy spoilers because honestly I don't know how to talk about what makes me passionate about it without discussing all the character relevations that occur over the course of its 8 episodes. I'll try to be generic as much as I can.

The thing about why it's hard to discuss without spoilers is that the characters and their full baggage are revealed slowly episode by episode, because like in real life you often learn about new friends & love interests slowly as intimacy deepens...

But from what I can see online, it's very subjective for viewers - depends on the person if they find these themes and personal challenges compelling or not. This doesn't fit with the typical "BL asian drama" format.

My personal viewing stake: There's an otp that has TAKEN OVER MY BRAIN. I have been searching for this energy ever since finishing Lighter & Princess. Gotta confess that I couldn't care less about the second couple who are teenagers. Apparently MDL and a lot of tumblr only liked the teen couple (valid!), but I just skipped over them mostly because when my brain locks in on Real Adults with Adult Problems I often cease to connect to high school student storylines. But the age gap couple with a 39 year old character who is FEELING his age... Jim & Wen. I've watched all 8 episodes now and they are like cocaine to me.

Ep 1 setup: We're not in Bangkok! (gasp) Jim is almost-40 and runs a late night diner in the less upscale part of town. Wen, about 10 years younger, is drunk at his diner as he's trying to close for the night. They pick up on the unspoken signals, instant electric connection, and end up wandering back to Jim's place and having what looks like fantastic sex together (without exchanging names).

But then after that first night, in the remaining 7 ep of the show you get a slowburn build up from zero as Jim doesn't want a relationship - with anyone. This is truly, sincerely a 'it's not you, it's me" situation. He is mired in baggage and the angst is SO DELICIOUS to me. Angst and soft hand touches and late night conversation. There's YEARNING. SO MUCH YEARNING.

And then my darling Wen! Who brings almost the same energy as the Lighter and Princess FL. @dangermousie I never thought I'd see this irrepressible determination and tender, good humored patience again! He is deeply sure that there is something special here with Jim and is unrelenting about trying to scale Jim's walls. I know that sounds like psychotic SML material lmao but it's all about the tone and context. It's very clear that Jim is allowing Wen in his life and doesn't, deep down, want Wen to give up on him. He's damaged and scared but I always felt he wants Wen to be right - that they are falling in love and can build something real together. He just can't make himself take that step. I mean, in their 2nd meeting he is EQUALLY INSANE to agree that it's v normal and hinged behavior to let his 1 night stand start randomly showing up to work shifts at his diner as 'temp staff' he can't afford to pay because... um. Basically to stalk him? idk I don't think it's stalking when u have a mutual agreement?? 🤔

Wen falling deeper into Jim and KNOWING the feeling is mutual no matter how many times he's (so gently!) pushed back... can be sooooo personal. 😭😭😭 The vibes of this "we're Not Together™" but it's inevitable, I'm just waiting for the timing to be right... reminiscent of the last 10 episodes of Lighter & Princess. This building intimacy and tenderness that stretches on until as a viewer you feel like... They ARE in love, they're together but just without the sex. They just have to stabilize their lives first before committing whole-heartedly. THE BITTERSWEET PINGING. (screams)

One thing I've observed is many people seem to struggle to connect with Jim's character. The closest thing we have to a protagonist (?) Maybe. Anyway, I suspect it might be a generational thing. I found the drama incredibly compelling, but I grew up queer in the 80s and 90s. I'm well into my 40s, a bit older than Jim, but I think the generational queer experience overlaps pretty well considering the sociopolitical differences btw us/thailand.

The screenwriter is an older out gay man, so I presume that's also a factor in how he did a pitch-perfect depiction of Jim's struggles to find home.

Wen has his own baggage that feels very real and raw. I loved his storyline because I could personally relate to it also from my queer relationship experience.

I've blabbered on here before about how I feel like there's something different about queer stories being told to other queers, not targeted to straight viewers primarily - I'm not saying it's better than the big brands and popular international media including lgbt rep. It's just different imo and I do think it's valuable. I want to see stories about the complexities of the experience & about the gay community that can't just be mapped to straight people. Where the story would not feel the same if you flipped the sexualities. That's what Midnight Chicken was to me: the characters of Jim and Wen and their personal development & slow love story together felt very queer and the age gap was a relevant part of this. And that called to me. I could recognize parts of myself in them and my personal experiences as a gay woman.

I was impressed by the writing. Strong acting. The directing of individual scenes is excellent BUT the 1 big flaw is the editing. Very amateur, super abrupt scene changes! Just jarring. But whatever, I've seen some terrible editing in cdramas too. Also note the storytelling tactic is to show a series of meaningful moments & interactions over like 6-8 months of time. Events progress in ways we don't always see and it's not always spelled out to the audience, everything that happened since we last saw them. That may or may not work for the viewer.

[Plus there's a very sweet & wholesome teen love story that also gets a happy ending, if you're into that. One of the teens is deaf and there's no "cure the disability" nonsense, don't worry. I was adult-focused but I did appreciate the complicated family relationship subplot with Jim trying to caretake his nephew and their relationship to the mostly-absent sister.]

ok so now into spoiler territory. Letting the relevations come out organically would be a much better viewing experience BUT...

SPOILERS ON JIM & WEN BACKSTORY

Jim's whole deal is he had a big love in his late 20s-early 30s that fucked him up good. He grew up being told gay love isn't real, leaves his rural farming town with his sister in their teens, disconnected from his family... But even his sister, who loves him, had the perspective that it's Just A Phase. Jim expects to Prove Them Wrong. Then his boyfriend cheats on him.... With a woman. Activate that generation's internalized homophobia and self-doubt. And then before he gets to truly confront his partner, his partner dies in an accident. So he never gets resolution.

And he's stuck under a mountain of debt, on the edge of poverty because he didn't get any of the guy's assets when he died of course. No rights under Thai law. Partner's family takes it all but the old car & the cat. All he has is the small chicken rice shop they had bought and ran together and it's killing him, he both hates and loves it. He's this amazing member of the local community but doesn't see himself and his own worth clearly.

Wen is working through the guilt of falling out of love from his 1st gay relationship that lasted 5 years of his 20s. Broken up but still living together. Trying to stay in each other's lives (I've seen this a lot, because in small gay communities you don't just cut ties with good people you care about). But living together is toxic for both of them, despite the real care that's there.

He also feels disconnected from a community at the start. He has work collegues, all straight friends, and his now-ex boyfriend. But you get the subtle sense that his local ties are all with the boyfriend Alan's family and mutual friends with Alan who don't all know about the breakup yet and he doesn't know how to interface with them anymore now that he and Alan aren't the same. He's the one who fell out of love, so he's "the bad guy" here and the straight friend he tries to talk to about trying to co-habititate with his ex and stay close friends doesn't really get it, because that's just way more typical behavior for older generation queers - it's notable that when the situation is fully explained to Jim, he doesn't seem to find it bizarre at all (as said, I've gone through that myself, and known friends in that situation; found that subplot to be very well done.) (I read that many viewers were disappointed this wasn't a standard infidelity situation where Wen is just regular cheating on Alan, but I have to say that I feel the opposite. The subplot and how it played out felt very relatable to me. I didn't need a cheating angst plotline in this drama that could be transplanted into a straight drama. I wanted more stories that represented my lived experience as an adult lesbian, and Wen's narrative gave me that.)

Wen keeps searching for a home even while living with Alan and having loved him in the past. Which to me was a sign that he'd moved to this smaller city, living in Alan's condo and in Alan's life with Alan's extended family... He started eating beef because Alan did and following along. He doesn't know where HE feels at home, what Wen needs to be comfortable and happy. When he more & more starts to believe he can make this home with Jim, he's determined to make it happen.

#really long post #agonizingly long meta #sorry to my mutuals #ily 😘😘😘#drama review #drama recommendation #midnight series: moonlight chicken #jimwen #moonlight chicken

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