#Don't you think it would be better if all art everywhere was made to appeal to ME in particular???

[eilooxara]

So often I see art on here where I'm like "I would be incredibly into this if it were in a completely different style"

[dapper-nahrwhale]

Home is the first grave

(a leverage/the librarians crossover where Eliot and Jake are twins)

Chapter 2

[read it here]

When their Mama managed to herd them all in the old car to Sunday church services, the two of them would hide in the back pews together. And only then would Jake light up and talk Eliot’s ear off about whatever century stain glass or old creepy statues or fancy architecture or something else.

Hiding down in those church pews, it was like magic was real and nothing could hurt them.

The morning light glistened through the stained glass, a kaleidoscope of colors bursting on the brick white walls, all telling stories fragile as glass and paper ever could. The columns and pillars are taller than giants towering over them, the high and hallowed architecture singing loud and silent. Statues older than God line the halls, all praying for some kind of saving.

There were stories to be told behind everything.

But any time someone looked at Jake or passed by them, he'd bite his tongue, get all quiet, and look down at his dirty shoes. It was shame or guilt, something ugly and terrible that ate him up from the outside in. The bright smile and life in his eyes shriveled up and died.

It really was one of the most horrible things Eliot ever saw.

He'd never hated their father more in those moments.

Eliot would glare daggers at anyone who did look at Jake, but the damage was done. It was too late already. They'd got him thinking he couldn't, shouldn't, be smart and enjoy his little art things.

Sure, Eliot didn't get the appeal, but he could see clear as day how happy it made Jake. He just wishes Jake could see it.

But the worst thing is, he got it. Why he hid his talents. Why he didn't tell anybody just how smart he was, why he did all this. He understood, it's a small town and you gotta play your part in your own little boxes, if you stepped out of line bad things could come your way if you weren't careful.

Small towns could be your home or your grave, but it had to be something you carry with you. It just depends how close to the chest you play your cards. Community or cruelty. The rumors fly fast and hit hard, and you don't wanna get kicked out of the only place you've known. It's hard to love something so dearly, something that will kick you to the curb the second you don't stick to how it should be. It's hard to leave and it's harder to stay.

Jake saw value and beauty just about everywhere in the world. Eliot just wished he could see it all in himself.

Eliot knew all he was good for was taking a punch, but Jake was so much smarter than all that. He knew all this stuff about art movements, and about different architecture styles, and could recite poetry on the spot. He'd read books about different languages, research history about all sorts of things Eliot didn't have a clue about. It was so impressive and incredible and Jake didn't really think so.

He'd taught himself all kinds of stuff in secret, skipping out on football practice to stay in at the library. Reading all these old books. He could be something so much bigger than this little town if he'd just let himself.

If he'd just let himself take the more advanced classes, he could do some really impressive stuff and get a scholarship into some fancy college and get out of this two pony town.

Eliot knew he didn't have a chance in hell to get out of this town on his own. He knew that.

But Jake wasn't him, he was better than him. He could do what Eliot couldn't. He had a real shot at leaving. And the fact he refused to even think about it, pissed Eliot off more than anything else.

He said he had an obligation to his family, he couldn't just leave them.

An obligation to their dad. He couldn't just leave.

The company's been better. Eliot had heard Pop yelling on the landline downstairs about something or other going wrong. Pop ain't in charge of it yet, but with the way Grandpa's health has been going, it won't be too long now before he is in charge.

And that could only ever spell disaster.

-

He'd always blamed Jake when something went wrong. Never himself.

Said Jake was too weak and cowardly, that Eliot wouldn't always be around to cover for his screw ups. All he was good for was brick dumb muscle.

All he ever did was hide behind Eliot.

It was true, but only because Eliot refused to let them be seen.

Eliot would protect them as much as he physically could, but he couldn't protect them in the other ways.

Jake never took to fighting the way Eliot did. As a release, as a refuge, as a requirement. He was far from bad at it, but he lacked the sort of drive and insight that Eliot had. He didn't want to fight. He didn't need to.

He did it to survive, but he didn't enjoy it. Not to say Eliot did, but he always took pride in a job well done.

Boxing and football and wrestling were some of the sports they'd had their hands in. They were good at them, not great, but good. Jake had always been better at team sports and Eliot had shined solo. How it's always been.

But no matter what they did, it was never good enough for him.

It would never make up for the fact they were disappointments deciding to be different than he wanted them to be.

It was hard not to taste his resentment of them. Especially Jake. As much as he tried, he hadn't yet gotten thick enough skin to ignore all the slights and digs at him.

He'd ignore Hannah, blame Jake for every little thing, and push for Eliot to be just like him.

Living there was suffocating. It would kill them in the end, he knew it would.

-

Jake can smell his mom's chili recipe. The mix of sweet and spicy chili peppers, fresh tomatoes, an absolute insane amount of garlic, and simmering beef.

He hadn't had her chili in years. He can't even remember the last time he'd had it. The memory the smell conjures, chokes him all up.

He misses her more than he ever had. It's a cutting feeling, the yearning for days long past. When life was simple and love was easy. When the worst pain he'd felt was a scraped knee, when summer stretched on forever.

Then he remembered. It's summer. They're staying over at their grandparents house. It's morning. And he can smell his mom's chili.

He stumbles sleepily down the stairs to the kitchen.

The sun is melting down the curtains, the world glows in celebration, in mourning.

It's mourning.

The chatter and clunks from the kitchen as his Grandma and Hannah are crowded around the stove. Hannah's tall enough now that she doesn't need the dusty stool in the corner to see over the counter. And when did that happen, he looked away for a second and she grew up tall. He wonders what else happened to her when he wasn't looking.

The chili has to simmer and cook all day before it's ready. Really it should take a couple days to get the flavors just right, but he can't stand smelling it for that long he thinks.

It smells like longing.

It smells like home.

It's the morning of their Grandpa's funeral.

They don't talk about Eliot’s black eye or how Hannah won't meet their eyes or Jake staring blank at his book under the table.

They never do say things in such words. It's just not what they do, not who they are to bring such things up into the light. Those are reserved for quiet conversations in the dead of night.

They all know what's going on, they know they can't stop it, they know it's bad. They deal by not dealing with it. By pretending it isn't happening. By pretending everything is fine. They're very good at it now, they've had lots of practice over the years.

It festers like an old wound, unchecked and infected.

It always does.

-

It's really a beautiful ceremony. In the church they all grew up in, the one they hadn't been in since their mom died. It hasn't changed much at all. Same fire and brimstone pastor, same tittering old ladies gossiping, same everything.

Well, there's been a few changes in statues and other little things. But the bones of the building always stay the same. It was built like this, all the same.

He doesn't show up. They had been staying with their grandparents since they found the diagnosis earlier in the year. Only so much time was left. And he never showed up at all during it.

It was a strange adjustment. Took some getting used to, but now Eliot dreads going back to live with him.

It was nice to not have to fight so much all the time. To rest, to cook, to laugh.

He's going to miss it like a limb cut off.

It makes him feel like a piece of shit, that he is more torn up about what the aftermath of Pappy's death will be than him actually dying. Anyone seeing him cry would assume such, they wouldn't think he's grieving the wrong thing.

But they won't see him cry. He stands stoic and jaw clenched tight enough to crack, he can't afford to break. Not right now. He's holding Hannah as she's holding back tears and holding Jake's hand as he's holding the pew in front of them and staring at the ceiling.

The potluck afterwards is mostly somber, with a touch of revelry. There's food of all kinds, including the chili from this morning. They eat and tell stories and laugh and cry.

They decide to spend the final night there with their grandma. She had wanted them to come back to help sort through his things in the following week, but said she needed the house to herself for a bit. She sends them off with bread, and vegetables, and tupperwares of chili and soup and everything else.

The other two are fast asleep in the car as Eliot drives them back. It's a 45 minute drive, but he takes it slower than normal, appreciating the cool breeze of the night. The quiet and the winding road back home.

Eliot sees what he had been hoping to avoid. Their father, drunk as a skunk on the front porch. Waiting impatiently.

His cheeks are sunken and his eyes are hollow. And Eliot feels guilty deep down. He shouldn't have left. Look what happened. What he did.

It was his grandad, but it was his dad's dad first.

He shouldn't have left him alone.

“It's your fault you know.” Pop spits out at him as he comes up the porch.

“I know. Come on, go and get some sleep, Pop.” Eliot steps forward to try and get him inside. It's late and he's tired and stuffed too full of feelings and he doesn't want to do this right now.

“Don't tell me what to do, boy.” He shakily points the barrel of the shotgun next to him in Eliot's general direction.

Eliot stops moving. Staring down the gun, his heart thumps fast in his ears.

Eliot gulps down his fear because he wouldn't, “Pop, just. Just come on, let's go inside an-”

He can barely hear the click as he arms it.

Eliot choked on his heart leaping through his throat. He can't move.

“Whater you gonna do about it now?” He laughs. He pointed a loaded gun at him and laughed.

And Eliot is frozen. In fear and terror and confusion and everything.

“You should see the look on your face! You really think I'd waste a bullet on you? Ha.” But the gun is still there.

Well, he hadn't been sure if he'd really shoot or not. He had been praying on not, but he just couldn't be sure.

He had always been an angry drunk man. Eliot wasn't sure how far Pop would go if pushed. He wasn't sure how far he would go if pushed.

And the gun is still there.

Eliot can't move. His father is holding a gun up to his head and he can't do a single damn thing about it.

He doesn't know if he'd really pull the trigger. He might.

He might not.

But he might.

“Quit it Pop.” Eliot whispers, terrified to say anything louder. He can feel tears prickle and jump at his eyes. He can't cry now. He really can't.

“You don' tell me what to do.” He sneers.

“Okay, okay.” He placates, hands turned up, eyes down. He shoved his anger at this deep down. He can't be angry right now.

“From now on, it's gonna be different around here.” He says, like a smug sheriff.

“Okay.” It's getting hard to breathe. It's getting hard to move, to keep still, to live.

“You're gonna give me the respect I deserve, I'm the one that puts a roof over your heads, feeds you, clothes ya keeps you off the damn streets.” He brandishes the gun a bit more wildly at that.

“Okay.” It's all he can say with all his focus on the gun swaying in front of him, appeasing the angry drunk man has never been so difficult.

“Okay, okay, is that all you can say? You're so stupid, you can't come up with anything more clever in that dumb brick of yours, Jakey.” He taunts, stumbling around.

“M’ Eliot, not Jake.” He'd take a gun in the face any day over slander of his brother's name.

“Same fuckin’ difference. Pair of idiots the both of ya. Good for nothin’s.” And finally the gun goes down enough for him to take a swig from a bottle.

Then he goes down, the gun clatters to the floor and the bottle thuds.

Thank God.

Eliot clumsily fumbles with the shotgun in the dim light to disarm it without blowing his head off, eventually getting it.

He takes the bottle and throws it as far as he can in the distance.

Staring down at him, he feels his anger dissipate. He looks so small.

He still fucking held him at gunpoint.

His dad just died.

But he still just held him at gunpoint.

He sighs, and does what he always knew he was going to do.

He picks him up and drags him to bed.

He throws him in the cover and slams the door.

Gathering Hannah and Jake is easier by a long shot. Just shaking them awake in the car and gently telling them to get to bed, and off they go back to sleep.

Later on he's collapsed on his bed and covers his mouth tightly so he doesn't scream.

If it had been Jake or Hannah in front of that gun, he wouldn't even have hesitated to get in front of them and diffused the situation as quickly as possible. But since it was himself, he hesitated.

He hesitated.

He could have died. His dad could have just killed him if he'd said the wrong thing. He almost got himself killed. He's very lucky to be alive right now.

He doesn't know how much longer his luck will hold out for.

It can't be forever.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

What is something you wish more people understood about you or if you prefer about your job or hobbies?

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhh, oh gosh SO much, honestly.

So I'm a graphic designer by trade, and an illustrator and freelance designer as my side gig, and my hobbies are art-related as well.

FOR SURE, I have to say that I wish people respected designers as the creatives we are. I've GENUINELY had clients who think all I do is hit a "design ad" button and BOOM it's done, and don't think they should have to pay me because – and this is ONLY because I've been doing this for 20 years – I can finish a print ad in under an hour, and booklets under 5, not taking into account the AMOUNT OF CHANGES and STUPID things I have to talk people out of to not make them look bad.

Some other things:

Microsoft Word is not a design program. I HATED this when I worked at the Paper. Good fucking LORD the amount of times I've had to rebuild an ad because the client couldn't resize it themselves and couldn't understand why if they moved something everything fucked up is astounding.

Canva is good for mocking up design, but I'm sorry, you're NOT a designer if you learned design in Canva. I know it sounds gatekeepy and pretentious, and I am sorry about that, but even with Canva you need to know SOME principles of design to get something appealing out of it. A designer, after-all, MADE your templates you're working from. We're everywhere. We're a silent bunch that's under-appreciated. You're never going to get the precision and nuance and a proper eye that you'll get from a designer. Sure you'll get quick and dirty designs, work fine for socials, but I LOATHE when people send me shit they made in Canva that I have to, once again, rebuild because they can't figure out how to resize in Canva and complained to me that Canva isn't making it look nice when they export it (to be fair, that's a them problem, the tools ARE there for you to do that stuff)

When your designer tells you one thing and you're trying to push for another, your designer is trying to save you the embarrassment of your "vision". We know what we're doing. We spend most of our days knowing market trends and what will make eyes go to your advertisements and products.

Strokes don't fix everything.

I can't read your mind. PLEASE, if you wanted an element there from the start, you need to tell me, and not tell me I'm a fucking moron who should have guessed by the blobs you drew on a napkin as your layout.

Fuck AI; I see the benefits of it for smaller things like content aware fill to add a bit more height to a stock photo I'm using, or the smart-select to route a photo faster, but literally that's all I see useful for it.

I know there's loads more I'm missing, but I've seen SO much that I'm numb to a lot of things and tend to just "autocorrect" stuff without even thinking anymore.

I love my job though, I really do. The joke in my industry is that "I get paid to play in Photoshop all day long" and there is some truth to it after doing this for nearly 20 years. But I wish people would understand that we are trained professionals who want to make them look good, and to do that I need time and money. We are literally background characters for the main protagonists, and the pay isn't great unless you're really lucky (which I am, but it took me 12 years to finally get in where I am), and I wish people would stop saying my job is easy.

It literally is not. Think of it as retail, but you deal with the same people every single day nitpicking the tiniest things over and over again despite you telling them countless times that 6pt font is probably the smallest you should go, but no 3 pt must be on this ad.

Anyway. 🙃

My favourite though is Layout Design. I love designing the booklets and mailers we do at my job, because I get to be super creative. My boss is pretty lenient with me, since "you've been here longer than all of us, you know better than me how this works", so I get to have fun.

Thank you for this question :) And gonna promo myself here, if anyone ever needs design or layout services, I'm your gal :)

[chim-chim1310]

sorry to keep bringing up that man, but I had several thoughts whilst going through ur asks

i got to the ask where you joking about jungkook becoming “our established western artist” which I found funny, but i’d just like to say some thoughts on what I think will happen after this whole single fiasco

I fully believe that if jungkook was not originally in BTS, and he had always been a solo artist, maybe this push in the West would work, and he’d rise to the top like olivia rodrigo, Ice Spice etc.

But because BTS is already an established name, no matter how much jungkook wants to curate this new “bad boy” image, someone who can swear and sing about sex, he will always, for the GP at least, be a member of BTS.

i came across a quote of a tweet a few days ago, from a “local” account stating that the “world cup boy” had a great voice, lo and behold, the account was created a few days beforehand, and was very obviously made by an army or jjk. a quick scroll of the 17k likes showed that most/ all of the likes came from army’s or jungkook solos - i really don’t think this song is bringing in any new fans!

so what will happen? jk will probably get that #1…and then what?? people will forget about the song. it’s nothing new, nothing meaningful, it’s “for the charts not the arts”. what does scooter think will happen with jk ultimately? i think what is quite sad, but quite telling is that scooter does not, and will not acknowledge jks role in this - if you can even call it that. a few days ago he tweeted something about seven being the biggest song of the year…nothing about jungkook

also…jk needs to be careful, at the end of the day he is korean, i wonder how k-armys feel watching him very obviously try and appeal to the “better” audiences of the west.

I also don't think they are getting any new listeners. To non armies in US they've probably heard such type of songs thousands of time. It's nothing unique so it wouldn't hold their interest. If they listen to the song one time and they don't like it then they will not hear it again.

And I'm pretty sure no one is liking seven anyways except for the influencers and tiktokers who are paid to play the song in their videos.

It's just feeling like it's big because hybe is putting it everywhere. It's right in our face so people will think that it's popular when it's actually not.

It's just the money talking.

[ahaura]

my thoughts about character/reader fics are as follows:

firstly want to preface this by saying my feelings may stem from 1) growing up primarily on ffnet where certain types of formats were not allowed iirc (ex: second person POV, choose your own adventure) and so if people wanted to make a self-insert they had to make an oc like everyone else 2) it possibly being a genuine new creative wave that i am not familiar with or 3) following/coming alongside the implementation and popularity of tiktok or 4) something else

secondly i want to say that i have been writing for years & wholeheartedly support OCs whether they're general OCs or self-inserts i think for the most part if there's a sandbox you can build castles in go for it yk?

thirdly i do. wholeheartedly. and entirely. understand wish-fulfillment. i am not a wish-fulfillment or fantasy or fun-having hater. im genuinely not

HOWEVER. it feels like in the last few years? couple years? last year???? there has been a MAJOR uptick/flood of reader/character fics in literally every aspect of fandom like you simply cannot escape it. it's in every single tag for almost every single movie for so many characters. which. like. is annoying for people not into it but i'm not saying, like, it's harmful. annoying =/= bad.

i love my fellow writers i love people reading i love people having fun etc etc etc

all those disclaimers being said. i am SO unbelievably tired of them in a way i have not been tired of a trend in fandom in a very long time. (and im talking about a trend rather than a serious issue.)

i DO think that it requires effort to write reader/character fics. however my beef with them is that they are effectively one-size-fits-all cardboard cut-out wish-fulfillment slots. the goal SEEMS TO ME to maximize engagement. to fulfill the wishes and fantasies of as many people as humanly possible. but the thing is... there is no one-size fits all. there are undoubtedly people who cannot squeeze themselves into the cutout made by the writer.

and moreover i don't think that is the funnest thing to write. is it WRONG to write it? no. is it BAD? no! but i simply wish. that more people would not focus as much as pleasing as many people as humanly possible with their writing and instead do what fulfills THEM. and i don't mean in the "how many comments/how much engagement" you get. i mean, what creatively stimulates you.

that doesnt mean this doesnt require creativity or that some people dont geuninely enjoy writing them. im not saying that.

what im SAYING is that i am SICK of seeing it everywhere and i would ENCOURAGE these writers to TAKE CHANCES! i personally do not find a blank-slate cutout appealing!!!!!! i love, love, love OCs!!!! whether they're general or self-inserts! i love it when writers take chances, when they give their characters defined/explicit traits and personalities! im sick to death of this "y/n" bullshit give me a name give me a general appearance give me an attitude give me a past give me SOMETHING - for lack of a better word - REAL!!!!!! something with meat! something i can chew on!

I WANT WRITERS TO COMMIT! NOT EVERYONE WILL LIKE IT BUT NOT EVERYONE IS MEANT TO! ITS OK TO MAKE SOMETHING THAT SOME PEOPLE WONT VIBE WITH! that's just how art goes!!!!!!

i have personally tried to get into it. and it's not for me. i can say that too, my POV is definitely influenced by that. that's whatever. im not trying to make a moral argument here

second person POV is fun to write in! you can write (OC or not) in it if you want to! it's atool like any other! use it!

i am just. SOSOSOSOSOSO sick of seeing it EVERYWHERE and while im sure it is genuinely creative and stimulating for some people it just feels so. game-ified like those tiktoks that are like "POV: im you're s/o" or whatever like there's nothing WRONG with it but i DO think that sooooo many people are missing out on both the reading And the writing aspect! stories are not SUPPOSED to be "one size fit all!" the goal of art, IN MY OPNION, should not be to maximize engagement! and also WHY is it in every tag cant you guys like make a separate sight for it. ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[slicedcat]

Update:

I'm back-ish!

I have finally decided on a webtoon to "start" on!

Sadly, it's not Nerve. I'm so sorry to everyone who expected me to start with Nerve the Creep because of the announcement. I have decided to work on him more because his backstory made absolutely no sense to me and I wanted something more understandable.

For this reason, I will stop announcing things as I see that I am a very indecisive person when it comes to picking webtoons and I see that I seriously need to think before I post.

For now, I'm focusing on designing new characters and posting more.

Another point that I would like to make is that I have "given up" on social media. There's a lot of distressing things showing up everywhere and I realized that I really just want to post art and be a small artist. I'm done with trying to appeal to a big audience and be known. Social media is a lot less stressful when I post on and off like this and I feel much better just posting as I create, rather than to create an audience.

What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to be a big artist anymore and that I just want to create on my own and I see that I'm already not ready or well enough to be a big artist. There won't be a "schedule" and I'm just posting for fun.

Thank you all for understanding!

[televinita]

Reading Triage (??)

I'm in a whirly-twirly-IDK-what-to-read mood and am throwing out TBR plans practically on the daily, so what if I simply made an enormous post full of titles that caught my eye in the last week and which I may or may not read soon.

1. Lock Every Door and/or The House Across the Lake - Riley Sager: I loved Home Before Dark (my thoughts are still percolating; I haven't forgotten your note, @kateschechterxthorwasmyfirstotp!), and I think that one will stay my fave, but these two look almost as appealing.

2. A Paris Apartment - Michelle Gable: because I keep thinking that Lucy Foley's mystery-thriller with almost the same title is based on that iconic real-life news story about the apartment that was left untouched since WWII full of beautiful art and heirlooms, and it's not, but this one is.

(it's not the only one either, but it's the one that got to me first and/or looks best. whether it actually is the best...hm, don't love this MC having a cheating husband whom she retaliates against by also cheating. why can she not be 34 and single instead)

3. The Paris Apartment - Kelly Bowen: this one is also about that! it looks like it is probably better but also. I am just So Tired of dual-timeline WWII novels in Europe.

4. The Apartment - S.L. Grey: I don't know a damn thing about this one or the author. It popped up when I searched Foley's book in the library catalog, because this apartment is also in Paris, but this one appears to be a horror/thriller and I immediately said "hell yeah place request." (update: I peeked at Goodreads. Ratings appear Bad. So...we'll see.)

5. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil - John Berendt: idk what randomly put this book back into my brain, but it's one I remember seeing everywhere in used books for a while, and might even actually remember seeing in the 90s/early 2000s due to its iconic cover. I always dismissed it because "eh, adult book," but today I realized, oh yeah, I like adult books now sometimes, so I read the synopsis and it sounded pretty intriguing actually, and then I learned for the very first time it's actually nonfiction and not a novel?? So...maybe. Seems a good October read.

6?. The Work of Art - Mimi Matthews: I started the ebook assuming I could get the paperback from the library the next day, since it was checked in and reading on a screen sucks, but IT WASN'T ON THE SHELF WHERE IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. I placed a request to make them find it, and yet its status remains unchanged since 9/24, which I can only conclude means they have well and truly misplaced their only physical copy. >:( So fingers crossed they find it, because I simply will not make further progress on a computer screen with a book of this length.

7. Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries - Heather Fawcett: I keep forgetting about this and then being randomly reminded about it in BookTube videos. I tend to like this style of book (very A Natural History of Dragons), and it's one of the few ways a book with a faerie element can appeal to me.

8. The Echo of Old Books - Barbara Davis: Beautiful cover, antiquarian bookseller, sold.

All right, I think that's everything I've just collected or am in the process of calling in from the library...

------------------

24-HOURS-LATER UPDATE: would you believe that only books #2-4 are available to me right now? "Parisian apartments or NOTHING for you, Televinita," says the library, as all the other books are checked out right now (or lost), except #5, whose dense text and snoreful writing style immediately put me to sleep so that's gonna be a no. And I've already read the last book (about Tara) from yesterday's library triage post. I guess I still have Good As Gold... and the hundreds of unread books I own?? nah

48-HOURS-LATER UPDATE: that said... Lock Every Door is now on its way in, as are two books I put on hold ages ago and also two books I just found out about and immediately decided to read.

[thisvisionofmyspirit]

Alright, I see the Phantom Painter is making the rounds again as well so I'm actually going to write a whole dissertation about this, what the hell.

I don't care what people say about the visual quality of AI art. I, for one, think it's become pretty damn good at its job. I keep seeing genuine art lovers get fooled, because the tell-tale signs now require a lot of zoom-ins and knowing exactly what to look for. I've even seen AI-generated pieces where I couldn't spot a single flaw.

Let me first say, I fully understand the appeal of making AI-generated art. People who have never touched a pencil in their life can now produce beautiful pieces that look more than believable enough to them, and that's all that matters... I get it. Honestly, what if AI bots weren't trained on the portfolios of non-consenting artists so it could imitate their style? There was a time when people hated on digital art because it made things easier. Should we really dismiss something that was made quickly with practical tools because it was made quickly with practical tools? Art is everywhere, it doesn't have to be hard.

So is the data training the problem? It seems that way since that is what a lot of artists are the most vocal about, this having lead to projects like Glaze in a desperate attempt to protect artists from having their style stolen. Unfortunately, I find that this argument is not a convincing one to a lot to people who enjoy (making) AI art. One could debate why that doesn't seem to bother them all that much but that's beside the point: the fact is, many people just don't care. So as crucial as it is (and because many have explained it better than I ever could), I'm going to skip that one.

Another issue with AI art is that telling it apart from human art and from reality itself has become harder and harder. Well, I guess that's the idea, and the problem with that is that if this goes on, we just won't know anymore. We won't know what we're buying and who it is profiting, we won't know what is real and what isn't, we will be slowly sliding towards a world where one could get fooled into trusting what looks like a human being and is actually an avatar for a corporation, or more generally just one big lie. I know how this sounds, but I can't even put it any differently. That's just what we're risking.

Now, some AI art accounts are open about being AI art accounts, and some governments have even passed a law stating that all AI generated images have to be labeled as such. So ofc it would be tempting to say "well, as long as it is clearly labeled, aren't we the clear?" No, we are not.

You see, human artists make money off of their art. Some do it to get some extra cash at the end of the month and some do it full-time. Either way, their life and quality thereof depends on the price tag that they can put on their pieces. This price tag is directly related to:

How recognizable their art style is. An artist's style is their brand and their signature. It is what people pay for, because when the artist gets commissioned, the piece doesn't exist yet. The only guarantee that the client has (and therefore the only reason why they are turning to this artist in particular) is that the future piece is going to have been made by this artist, in their style, with their skills.

How much time the artist has spent on the piece. No matter what kind of art you make, the price of your pieces should always be based on the cost of the material + the time you spent on it times the hourly rate of your choosing. Your hourly rate, by the way, should certainly not be based on minimum wage since minimum wage has no business outside of jobs with no requirements. If you're an artist selling pieces, then you must have been practicing for years, and a job you've been practicing for years is not a job with no requirements. But I digress.

These artists exist and sell on a market place where they have to find the balance between 1/ standing out with their truly unique art and 2/ pricing their art in a way that lets them make a living while also attracting clients. It is a fragile balance that can only remain if the market place has room for the artist.

Back to AI generated art: what does it do to that market place? Well, it floods it. It floods it with millions of AI generated images that, because they were trained on these same human artists' work, resemble it. And because they were made in a couple of minutes, they are worth nothing. So the market place finds itself covered in art very similar to that of human artists, with the single difference being that it is very cheap. You know what that is? Counterfeit. And you know what's worse? The presence of AI generated art devalues human people's art, because if human artists want to continue making a living, they have to compete with AI generated art, especially the one that imitates their style. So technically, they have to lower their prices.

I know I am the 37,284th person on here to explain this, but apparently, a lot of people still don't understand why AI art is so controversial so maybe one more post won't hurt. I also hope this reaches those who make AI art and have become accustomed to being extremely antagonized and hated on, because this, at least, was written with neutral educative purpose in mind.

TL;DR: artists are watching their art get counterfeited and losing value, if AI continues to improve we're going to lose the ability to tell it apart from reality. If those arguments aren't enough for you, I guess we've lost you a long time ago. Just... Try to paint for real? Or sculpt something? And if that's too hard, well. Maybe, instead of thinking "this is tough, I'm going to let an amoral product do it for me", try thinking "this is tough, people who are good at this deserve to be supported". Idk.

And to those who aren't sure they can spot AI generated art, there are guides on here on how to do that (this one for example), but essentially:

AI doesn't know what a background and a foreground are. If they blend together, the image was AI generated.

AI just creates random strokes. This results in noise (things that weren't properly designed to look like something) and a lot of things that don't particularly make sense, like an unreadable object peaking from somewhere or lines that just end where they shouldn't.

HANDS. I do believe some AI accounts are getting better at hiding hands but they're still our best ally. AI is famously terrible at drawing hands.

Human artists need to stay relevant and post regularly but fully rendered, finished pieces take time so they will also post sketches and WIPs in between. Tutorials and process videos are also a way for them to engage with their followers. If the account posts none of these things, it's guaranteed to be AI.

Hey uh just fyi because I follow art tags and it's showed up on my dash several times these past few days: EMILE CORSI NEVER EXISTED. THESE IMAGES WERE AI GENERATED. I know they look pretty damn good but they're AI. Don't get fooled. Don't like and reblog AI art.

[peachhyychenle]

bloom bloom, heart | h.rj

'bloom bloom pow! the moment i met you, i felt like i'd explode. my heart fluttered. i hope it's not a dream' - bloom bloom, the boyz

pairing: florist!renjun x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

for the nostalgic melodies event hosted by @knet-bakery

playlist: bloom bloom the boyz, life still goes on nct dream, dive into you nct dream, cherry kisses chungha

a/n: my first fic for an event!! i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. also,, go check out everyone else that participated in the event!! oh, i also haven't had the time to proof-read this so, sorry lmao.

summary: flowers held many different meanings, and renjun loved that. from giving someone a baby's breath to giving them peonies, he loved how up front the message was, yet how hidden it was to someone that didn't understand their true meanings. You had always adored flowers, the colours, the scents, the meanings. And so, every week, you would go into Floral Dreams, to buy new flowers to draw, however Renjun would always throw in additional flowers to express his ever-growing crush on you, unbeknownst to him you understood every word.

If you had told Renjun this time last year he would be working part time as a florist, he would've simply laughed. But yet here he is, adorning a black apron, rearranging the plants in the display cabinet.

Floral Dreams was a great place for Renjun. It was never too busy, it was a five minute walk to his apartment and, thanks to Donghyuck, he has learned far more about flowers in the past month than he has learned about art history at his uni classes. He would never admit it to him, but Renjun was intrigued by the meanings each flower held.

From the bluebell to the yellow carnation, every flower held a different meaning. At first, Renjun couldn't care less. They were just flowers after all, their only job to him was to sit and look pretty. However the longer he spent in the floristry, the more his curiosity and his passion grew.

And now here he was, currently wiping down the counter he had just used to arrange a bouquet for somebody's birthday.

As he returned behind the till, the soft chime of the shop door bell rang. He glanced over and locked eyes with you. You seemed to be a regular. always popping in on a Wednesday afternoon, no matter the weather, to buy different pre-made bouquets. At first, Renjun found it odd how you would only buy one particular colour palette of flowers or even just a singular flower, however as you came in more often than not with a camera bag over your shoulder along with a sketchbook poking out the top of the tote bag you carried, it started becoming clear why you would buy them.

His current theories are that you are an artist that just really liked to paint flowers (specifically pink and yellow varieties) or you're a plant mum that just has an apartment filled to the brim with colourful flowers and plants.

His first hunch was correct.

A few months ago, you had moved into Neo City in order to attend the local university and study fine art. It was an interesting place for sure. It was a quaint town yet there was always something going on, whether it be different celebrations for certain holidays or events, to small annual carnivals and parades that would happen.

During your first week of moving in, you had explored the town centre, natural curiosity getting the better of you. That was when you stumbled upon Floral Dreams. The forest green painting on the window frames along with several broad leafed plants sat outside the shop, charmed you.

You remember when you first met Renjun. It was a rainy Wednesday about a month after you had moved. Your classes had just finished and you decided to buy a small bouquet. Something to brighten your dreary dorm room. And so you headed to Floral Dreams. When you stepped into the shop, instead of the cheery greeting you would usually get from Donghyuck, you found that he was busy talking to another guy, Renjun.

Both boys had briefly glanced towards the door, with Donghyuck giving a small wave, whilst the other boy shot you a smile. He was cute.

Returning the wave with your own, you continued into the shop, looking at all the flowers, taking in their colours and scents. Five minutes had gone by and you had chosen all the flowers you had wanted and walked up to the counter to place your order.

You rang the small bell placed on the countertop and after a few seconds, the new guy from earlier emerged from the back room and properly greeted and introduced himself, Renjun.

To say he was pretty was an understatement. He had a soft smile, kind eyes and long hair which made him look ethereal. His voice was melodic. So melodic that you only snapped back to reality halfway through his sentence.

You purchased the flowers and had another look around the empty shop, this time to admire the blossoming flowers. Back at the counter, Renjun would glance at you, whilst he wrapped the bouquet, his mind thinking about your smile and vibe whilst his hands carefully wrapped the bouquet up.

When he was finished, he rang the desk bell to catch your attention. He handed you the flowers and you were on your way. Not before turning back to Renjun and shooting him one last smile with a cheerful goodbye.

From the moment you walked in, Renjun knew his heart had exploded and his slightly dull world would never be the same again.

Week after week you would come back to the shop. It was always at 4pm and it was always an hour into Renjun's shift. You guys had managed to acquaint yourselves and make small talk, with the weather and how both of you had been, being the usual topic of choice.

Today Renjun was determined to make a move. Whether it was changing the topic to be something more in depth, or giving his number to you, he was definitely going to do something. And so when you walked up to the counter to place your order, Renjun made his move. He asked the question that had been on his mind. Why in the heavens did you buy so many flowers? The laughter that followed made Renjun's heart flutter, it was beautiful.

You then proceeded to explain the reason you moved and why almost all the store's sales were from you. Upon hearing that you went to the same university he did, Renjun was enthralled and began talking about his passion for art and the history behind famous pieces.

Much to his dismay, his hands had a mind of their own, and had wrapped up your selected bouquet far too quickly for his liking. Just as you were about to grab the bouquet, Renjun let out a 'wait!' which made you pause.

He ran into the back room and came out a moment later with some ribbon along with a couple of gardenias and blue salvias. 'It'll make the bouquet look amazing, trust me' he said with that smile you had fallen for.

Once he was done, you took the flowers, bid him adieu and left, ready to take photographs of this masterpiece.

As soon as you left, Renjun let out a sigh of content and his heart started to calm down. He had a crazy idea to use what he had learned from Donghyuck, and to confess to you in the form of flowers.

It was a bold move, one that made him feel happy with himself.

Over the next couple of months the same routine would occur. You arrived, picked out flowers, ordered the bouquet, Renjun would wrap them up, you would take them, then leave.

However, as time went on, you began noticing flowers that you hadn't picked out.

For example, you had ordered a bouquet with mainly red flowers, with a couple of white ones to make it more visually appealing, however you don't really remember picking up the white camellia. Or that time you noticed a couple of yellow jasmines mixed with your sunflowers.

You eventually thought of looking up what these flowers meant. You knew one of your old high school flowers loved gardening and would often talk about flower meanings, but you had never paid any mind to them. Oh how you wish you had.

And so that's how you spent the evening on different websites looking at different meanings for all the flowers you could remember buying, and the definitions.

The morning after, you had a brilliant idea.

That next week, you came in at the usual time with a list on your phone of all the flowers you had never actually bought. You suspected that a certain someone kept slipping different flowers into your bouquet, which was actually quite sweet to you, however you were going to surprise him.

You picked out various flowers that were composed for a yellow, blue and white theme. You included the yellow jasmines and gardenias, along with the white camellias and blue salvias. Additional flowers were added and made a stunning bouquet, the best you had imagined yet.

For how quiet the shop was, your heart was thumping a lot louder than usual, despite this you walked to the till with a small smile. The normal routine went on, Renjun making conversation with you. The topic for today was conspiracies and aliens, which would usually be quite interesting to you, but your mind was in a different place.

Just as Renjun was tying the last ribbon up, a 'wait!' escaped your lips. A slightly startled Renjun paused to look at you. Dashing away to the front of the store, you picked out a red rose and walked back to where he was waiting.

Much to his surprise, you added the rose to the centre of the bouquet, pushed the bouquet towards him and then pulled out a letter that had been in your coat pocket and pushed it across the counter in his direction.

He froze. Almost everyone knew what a red rose meant.

He opened the letter. All the flowers he had given you with their meanings were listed, along with the red rose.

I love you.

Underneath was a small paragraph. His already racing heart began to explode as he read the words 'let's go on a date tomorrow' followed with your number underneath.

He looked back up to you. You were currently looking everywhere and anywhere that wasn’t Renjun.

Placing the letter down, he came around from behind the desk and hugged you. He could feel you tense up under him, however in a matter of seconds, your arms were around him, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

From the moment he met you, his heart had exploded, the colours in his world seemed to be brighter whenever you were there.

He loved hearing your laugh, seeing your smile, being in your presence.

Time felt non-existent with you.

He loved you, as much as you loved him.

And that was all he needed.

[prodtrouver]

𝐏 𝐇 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐒

᯽ Fairytales are always said to be all happy and lovely. With fairies, dragons, queens, kings, princesses, princes, and many more to bring their magical world to life, however, it's never really like that.

Although these original ones were overshadowed by the retold ones, there are still many who reads the original ones. They're even making videos, theories, and much more about them.

It was hoping to be read and finish the unfinished fairytales written in the book full of retold tales.

Pairing: Choi Soobin x fem!reader

Genre: fairytales, fluff, angst, fairies, fantasy au

TW: mentions of death, blood, torture, sharp objects, mausoleums,

Word count: 10,567

Based on the fairytale by George MacDonald, PHANTASTES

Fairytales are always said to be all happy and lovely. With fairies, dragons, queens, kings, princesses, princes, and many more to bring their magical world to life, however, it's never really like that.

Those happy and lovely fairytales everyone kept on hearing were all retold tales. The original ones always have that sad, furious, or scary part. No one just wanted to believe them because they all want a happily ever after.

Although these original ones were overshadowed by the retold ones, there are still many who reads the original ones. They're even making videos, theories, and much more about them.

One mysterious book, one secret, full of retold fairytales. Plot twists were made yet, the book remained unfinished. It was currently in the hands of the author's great-granddaughter.

Although, it was tucked away deep in his chest of his valuables. Dust covers the exterior of the book, just resting at the very bottom, ready to be found, cleaned, and read.

It was hoping to be read and finish the unfinished fairytales written in the book full of retold tales.

You walk down the flight of stairs, a basket full of fruits in your right hand whilst your other hand has a tray resting on your palm. You put the tray on the table before you put down the basket as well.

Afterward, you grab the towel that was hanging on the chair before you wipe the sweat forming on your forehead. You gently place the fruits on the sink and hear the loud and cheerful voices of your dear brothers.

"I'm coming to get you! Better run away, Luca!" Your brother says, picking up the boy who is smaller than both of you, perks of being an 8-year-old.

Your youngest brother laughs, swinging his arms in the air as he shouts to put him down.

"Okay, little bud! Help mom with dirty clothes. We'll wait for you before we cook." He pats his head. Their younger brother nods as he runs out of the house to call their mother. Meanwhile, he walks to your side as he helps you wash the fruits.

"I overheard mom's conversation with grandma this morning. They want you to finish something that belonged to our great grandfather." He says as he takes the washed fruits and the cutting board on the side. You look at your brother, Felix Lee, as he takes the knife out from its sheath. He places the washed apple on the wooden cutting board before he cuts the apple into half, then into quarters.

"They said it's in the chest in the attic. You know great grandfather's chest of valuables, right?" Felix asks, grabbing another apple to slice it into quarters.

"Yes, I know the chest, but what do they want me to finish?"

"I'm not sure which one, but they said it's a book. It's different from the others because it's the only one with a title... At least, that's what they said." Felix specified, you finished washing the fruits and put them on the side for Felix to slice.

"I'll go check it out. You can tell mom and Luca to cook without me. Don't mess the kitchen now and don't cut yourself either like last time." You say sternly, ruffling the hair of her brother.

Felix could only roll his eyes as he watches his sister go upstairs to the attic. You open the door of the cold attic, your chocolate brown eyes immediately land on the baggage stacked on the side.

Dust was mostly everywhere, ready to give someone a cough. You made your way to where the chests are, old and new ones. You shoved the ones that were covering the old chests.

Specks of dust suddenly get everywhere. "I need to wash after this." You let out a heavy sigh and open the chest that has the label of your great grandfather.

It was half-empty, almost every object in the chest was visible. Books were stacked on one side, alongside with notebooks and sketchpads beside it. Paint, paintbrushes, and other things for art on the other side. In the middle were the things he used for writing.

It made you think of all the things your father has told you and your brothers. How much your creative great grandfather loved art and wrote whatever he wanted. It was an opportunity for him to explore what he wasn't able to explore.

You look for the said book, the only book with a title. After you lift the pile of books, notebooks, and sketchpads, in hopes to find the titled book, and you finally did. The book had a red hardbound cover; the title was on the bottom of the cover.

You wipe away the dust from the book and blow away the remaining dust. You then close the chest, returning the objects you moved to get to the things of your great grandfather. Soon enough, you left the attic with the book in your grasps.

You enter your room and close the door. You changed your dirty clothes into cleaner ones, ones that you actually feel clean to wear.

You sat down on your wooden chair and took out a wet cloth to wipe the dirty red hardbound cover.

You could read the title now, Book of Retold Fairytales, it said. You flip through the pages, unbothered to read the book just yet.

You stopped your actions, however; you noticed a plentiful of empty pages between each story. It was as if it wasn't finished then you realized: that's what they want you to do.

The completion task is yours, but you felt scammed. You aren't good at writing stories or essays at all. Your great grandfather could write these stories, how could you, a person who doesn't write, end it?

Well, there is an answer to that. An answer that your great grandfather has always waited for. An answer that always helped him with his imagination and concentration, and that is to do it.

Go to the destination, do the actions, complete the story, that's all. The question is, how can one do it? Another simple answer! Get dragged into it.

You let out a heavy sigh and flip back through the cover page. How would you get dragged into the story? You don't even believe in those things! You read the very first fairytale you saw, and it's titled 'Phantastes'.

You tilt your head to the side, just remembering that the tales written here are retold in the words of your grandfather.

After reading the first page of the tale and was about to flip the next until your arm was being wrapped with mysterious yet sparkly yellow dust.

You dust it off and found out that it was hard to get it off. Soon, it engulfed your entire body, and you ended up in a completely different world.

You were confused, scared as well to where you are. You were stuck in a weird place, almost as it was a room full of unknown technology. You faced in front of you, a circular platform made from Silver, Concrete, and Marble.

Outline the circle. There were chairs made of concrete and marble. The gray concrete was painted white to make it more appealing to the eye.

You were hesitant, but you slowly made your way to the raised platform. Instantly, you flinched when a small concrete pillar came out from the ground.

There you see a card, a holographic card with a silver lining. You inspected, 'Phantastes' was written on both of its side. You slowly take the card from its pillar, only to find yourself in a bedroom, except it's not your bedroom.

You jumped when a paper appeared in front of you. You caught the falling paper and mumbled for an explanation instead. You sigh, ready to throw the blank piece of paper away until it started glowing.

You stared at it; something was being written, word by word, and you weren't the one writing.

You sat on the bed of the enormous bedroom. The bedroom looked nothing like yours back home. Instead, it seems like those bedrooms in Victorian mansions of wealthy people.

The paper in your hand then withers away into nothing but dust.

"I wasn't even able to read that," you stand up from the bed. You examined the bedroom until you sat in front of a mirror.

Even your clothes are different, and just like the bedroom, it looks nothing like yours.

You had a white blouse with long sleeves with added cuffed sleeves at the end to look clean. The skirt was a blue plaided skirt that stopped when it touched the ground. You slightly lift the dress and saw a glimpse of your black doll shoes. Your hair was styled beautifully, so beautiful you don't want to let your hair down.

Suddenly, you hear a tinkling sound from the desk beside the bed. You turn around to see a small creature standing there.

You slowly and carefully walk towards the little creature, and with every step you took, the tiny creature takes the form of a human, but there's something else. It had wings.

The insignificant creature flew and stared at you, but soon, it broke the eye contact, for it turned its head to the side. Your eyes followed the fairy but stood frozen when the bedroom changed.

Tall trees, bushes, flowers, and grass appear. Suddenly, you got the urge and courage to go to the wondrous sight in front of you.

"This is Fairyland, a land full of magic and spirits." The fairy spoke, and this surprised you.

You were already in front of Fairyland that the fairy had shown. Could it be the way for you to go back to your home?

"What do I have to do to come back home?" You spoke to the fairy who looked scared, maybe worse; terrified and traumatized.

"The boy who lived in this mansion has gone there and lost his path. I never saw him again, but he is alive. Find him, and you will return to your home," the fairy said.

You turned your head to look at the forest. Now, you knew why it showed Fairyland to you. When you faced the woods again, it looked darker and gloomier.

You have no choice though, if that's the only way for you to return. You entered the forest, possibly never to be seen again. You turn around, and the bedroom is gone. It wasn't there anymore.

You're now in the forest, nowhere else to go but forward and look for the boy.

The forest was beautiful rather than gloomy like earlier. Countless fresh flowers, mushrooms growing on trees, birds chirping, and living in their homes peacefully. You were enjoying the sight of young fairies flying and playing around.

A smile made it to your lips, but it soon disappeared when you saw a cottage and heard the loud and cheerful voice of a young girl. You took a couple of steps closer to the cabin, and the sight of a young girl playing with flowers and fairies greets your presence.

The young girl laughed until she saw you, and a broad smile was immediately plastered on her face.

"Mommy! We have another special guest!" The girl ran to you, she hugged your legs as a sign of welcome. A woman then comes out of the cottage, a surprised and welcome smile on her lips. She walked towards you and her daughter.

"Hello, welcome to our home. Would you like to come inside and have some tea?" The woman insisted on which you felt bad to reject it.

"Of course, that would be nice, thank you," you follow the woman and her daughter into their cottage. The girl lets you sit down on the chair while she washes her hands.

"I never thought that we would get another guest after that boy yesterday. I am confused why you both suddenly appeared." The woman places the finished tea on that table in front of her. The woman then sits down, the welcoming smile still on her pink lips.

You flinched your head to look at the woman.

"Wait, a boy? If I may ask, why was he here yesterday?" You ask, and the woman's smile became softer.

"I believe he got lost. I told him where to go and what to look out for, but I believe he got attacked after leaving our home." The woman looked worried; her last sentence made you wonder.

"What attacked him?" You questioned, the woman let out a saddened sigh.

"Spirits, evil spirits that live in the forest." The woman answered, a puzzled expression on your face. The lady seemed to notice it.

"Everything here has spirits from the trees to the plants to the rocks to the grass, Everything. There are more good spirits than bad, though." The lady explains,

"However, there are the most dangerous ones. They are the spirit of the Ash trees and the spirit of the Alder trees. These two spirits will attack anyone who comes near its property," The lady adds.

She gets up from her seat and takes out a sketch pad from her wooden shelf. She gives the sketch pad to you, where you could see the appearances of each spirit.

"These are what the spirits look like and what they are guarding. This girl is the spirit of the Ash tree, and this is the spirit of the Alder tree." She points at the two spirits, which they looked like two teenage girls.

"I want you to look out for them when you explore the forest; they are very dangerous, especially towards humans like us. The other spirits are just guarding my daughter and me." The lady added.

You close the sketch pad once you gain the memory of the appearance of the two spirits. You let out a heavy sigh, unsure if you can find the boy without getting into trouble.

You placed the sketch pad on the table in front of you as thoughts arise in your already clouded mind. What if you get hurt and die? Will you be stuck in this world?

"Thank you for warning me and letting me know what the spirits look like." You smiled at the lady; the lady's welcoming smile was back on her lips.

"No problem, dear! I'm glad that I could help." The lady responded as she watched you finish your tea.

You stood up from your seat and sent your heavy thanks to the lady once more before leaving. You stopped, however, when the lady shouted you something.

"Don't die because you'll die for real. You won't be able to return to your home." The lady says.

You turn your head to look at the lady, but she was already gone, out with her daughter. You left their property with fear and countless thoughts, and assumptions of what the outcome of your death that you hoped would never come.

Exploring the forest has never been scarier than your first. Now, you know what you need to ignore, avoid, and to fear, it scared you.

Your head was so full of thoughts to the point you didn't notice you have stepped into the land you aren't meant to be on.

You were out of your trance when you heard words murmured around you.

Instantly, you inspect your surroundings, and feel your body tremble in fear once you realized where you are, in the forest of Ash and Alder Trees. The two spirits known to be always together as if they are sisters.

You're afraid to take another step, but also afraid to stay in one place. You tried to take action slowly, only to hear another word being murmured to you.

You shut your eyes as you gather all the courage in you to take another step, a step you never knew would give you a nightmarish encounter.

You come face to face with one of the two spirits you were told to stay out of trouble, the spirit of the Ash trees.

She looked young, a young teenager, but her eyes were scary green with a hue of blue. Her hair was long, long enough to touch her kneecaps. She reaches her hand out to you before a mischievous appears on the spirit's pale lips.

In a flash of a second, you were grabbed by branches. Most of it started from your feet. You let out a fearful gasp when you felt the tingling feeling of the vines.

You felt disgusted and weak; you felt like your death was nearing. However, most of it disappeared when you saw a shard of glass on the leafy ground.

You swing the shard to cut the vines, which end up with the spirit yelling for the help of the spirit of the Alder tree. You quickly escape with the shard of glass, leaving a few cuts on your palm. But you couldn't care less; you just want to get away.

Eventually, you escaped and left the forest of the Ash and Alder spirit.

You angered them, made them furious, and now you're is sure they are ought to find and punish you.

With anxiety and courage on your side, you continued your search for the missing boy.

You kept the shard of glass in the pocket of your skirt. Speaking of your dress, it was now covered in dirt.

Your white blouse was dirty as well; a tear has appeared on your left sleeve! However, you ignored it; you continued walking and ignored the blood that was dripping from your hand.

You halted when you heard singing. The boy's voice was soft, almost gentle, and silky as if it made for a long silk ribbon.

You followed the voice, curious about who was singing and what it was singing for. Your curiosity grew when you saw a boy in front of a statue. The statue was a lady, and although it was a statue, it looked beautiful. You came to understand why he was singing to the marbled figure.

The boy has chocolate-brown hair, a delicate jawline, pink lips, and eyes that seem to smile with his lips. He was handsome, his voice sounded lively, and his dirty clothes looked wealthy if cleaned.

Your eyes widen when you saw the statue lady flee from him. The boy looked surprised, overwhelmed with the scenery of the statue that fled from him.

You took a step forward, let the boy hear the rustling of leaves around you. He turns around and feels his heart stop at the sight of you.

You stare at each other with shocked expressions, but the surprised faces turned into threatened and feared.

Both of you aren't aware of what the other is capable of. You could mistake him for a human when he could be a spirit, and the boy felt no different.

"Who are you?" You both questioned in sync, both are silent until spoken again. "I said, who are you?" Asked in sync once more, you groan.

"I ask you one more time, who are you? Are you a spirit or a human?" You said, your stern voice masked your fear.

"I'm a human, are you as well?" The boy asks, and you bob your head as an answer to his question. The boy lets out a sigh of relief as his fear of death disappears.

You stare at each other for one more time before they look away. The boy walks forward, your nose scrunches at the way the boy walks.

"Are you injured?" You question, to which the boy gives you an expression you cannot describe.

"I don't think so... also, I should ask you that. Your palm has a cut, and you're too careless to pay attention to it." He makes his way towards you.

He grabs your hand and examines the cut; a concerned expression replaces his indescribable one. He put your palm closer to his face.

The cut wasn't at all deep, but it wasn't small either. Dried blood surrounded the fresh-cut. You were lucky it's not infected yet.

"We need to find water and clean that cut of yours. It might get infected," he rips a part of his cloak. His action brought surprised expression on your face.

The sound of cloth ripped from his cloak confused you; why did he have to do that? He takes your hand once more and wraps the piece of cloth around your cut.

"That will do it! We need to find shelter before the spirit of the Ash and the Alder tree finds us again. I'm guessing you angered them as well?" He gives you a questioning look.

"I angered them as well... All we could do is hope that we don't get killed." He lets out a soft chuckle before he walked in front of you.

"Come on, better walk before we get killed." You walk through the forest again, both always on the look-out for anything harmful.

"I never got your name, may I know it?" The boy asks you, his eyes glued to the path in front of him.

"My name is y/n, how about you?" You were the one asking this time. The boy looks and smiles at you, the way his pupils disappear, and the dimple on his cheeks shows itself.

"Soobin, Choi Soobin... Hm, did you get dragged in this forest as well?" he asks again before you continue your walking journey.

"Yes, they dragged me here to look for the boy that never came back for days. I guess boy is you," you raise a brow whilst Soobin sighs.

"Yup, that's me... but I've been gone for days?" It confused him; it felt like only a couple of hours had passed.

"Yes, days! The fairy who brought me here said and-," you were silenced when you heard a rustle. Soobin was about to ask, but you immediately silenced him.

You look around attentively, a sight of any moving object wary of you. You moved closer to Soobin, in fear of suddenly getting attacked.

Suddenly, you see a woman walking towards you both. Soobin looks at the woman with a suspecting face. The woman smiles, which gave discomfort to the two.

"Hello, I'm a maid from a palace near here, but I lost my way trying to return. Can you help me find my way back?" The woman says with an upset expression.

Soobin looks at you, who has an uncomfortable expression. You weren't buying this; the maid was suspicious. She came out from nowhere and this warred you.

You walk to Soobin's side and hold his hand. "Sorry, but I'm afraid we can't help you." The maid's upset expression turned into a disappointment one.

"Y/n, come on, ease up a bit. She works in a palace. It can't be that far! Anyway, I should be certain that the palace is enormous for us to see." Soobin says whilst he pats your back.

He looks at the maid and offers her both of your help. The maid solemnly smiles at him. But there was something wrong with it- it's the way she weirdly glared at you afterward.

Soobin helped the maid find her way back. Their walk was long, just like their other walks whilst exploring the forest.

You swore you have seen no other sign of humanity again, if only you don't include the 'maid'. The way the maid kept looking at you made you feel annoyed.

You were walking behind Soobin and the so-called maid. Soobin was busy talking to the maid whilst you were on her guard, and constantly.

Suddenly, you heard something break behind you. You spin around, only to see nothing but a branch fall from a tree.

You turn around again, and jump in shock when the spirit of the Ash Tree stood in front of you. Her pale face staring intently at your not-so-pale skin.

"Hello, we meet again! I'm afraid you caused me too much pain, that will cause death." The spirit says and suddenly, vines grab your legs.

You tried to grab the shard of glass in your pocket, except your arms were wrapped with the vines already.

"Soobin! RUN!" You screamed, and vines made its way to your neck. You heard the spirit laugh at your suffering.

Suddenly, the vines were cut once again, which resulted in the spirit's deafening screams. She dropped you to the ground and arms were wrapped around your shoulder.

You cough for air before you face the person who has their arms wrapped around your shoulder. It was Soobin. His lingering eyes stared at the spirit in front of you.

"Well, look who we have here," the spirit of the Alder tree shows herself. She was still dressed in her maid clothes, which she used to trick them both.

"I'm sorry, I should have listened to you," you heard Soobin mutter when he saw the bruises around your neck.

"No, it's fine. You're quite stubborn, but you only wanted to help," Soobin helps you stand up. The two spirits laugh and try to attack you both at the same time.

Soobin's eyes widen and leap in front of you to shield your weak figure. However, neither of you felt pain and only heard the screams of agony of the two spirits.

You both turn your heads, only to see a man dressed in iron armor.

"Knight Choi Yeonjun, I never knew you would protect such weak human beings." The spirit of the Ash Tree snickered at him. The knight only pointed his iron sword at the two spirits.

"We shall not support Death in the lands of Fairies and other spirits. This shall be the last time if you are not on your property. If blood gets on one property's land other than your own, you are bound to be banished from Fairy Land." He stated and the two spirits groaned.

The two spirits glare at Yeonjun before they fled back to their forests. Yeonjun looks at the two who looked lost and are extremely lost.

"Go on, they will not bother you anymore," Yeonjun says and flashes them a smile. He gets on his horse.

"Thank you for helping us, good Knight, sir," you say, the knight says no more and walks away from them to do his duties.

"We better get going. It looks like the night is coming to pain us." Soobin jokes and you let out a laugh.

The two continued your journey once again, but found another cottage. It looked different from the cottage of the lady and her daughter.

The door of the cottage opens, and a man exits the cottage. He looked surprised to see you and Soobin. He grabs a sword on the side and points it at your direction.

"Sir, we mean no harm. Please, put your sword down." Soobin stood in front of you to shield you once again. The man didn't do what he was told, but another lady came out and made him put his sword down.

"Oh, my, guests! Honey, that's no way to treat them. They look like troubled and exhausted, treat them nicely." The lady says and runs towards you and Soobin.

"Hello, I'm Jihyo and that is my husband over there, his name is Daniel. Please, come inside! The night is arriving!" The lady insisted and dragged them both inside.

Soobin holds her hand before they enter their home, which was brighter and more spacious than the last home they visited. Suddenly, a young girl comes down the stairs. "Guests!!" She jumped off the stairs and hugged their arms.

"Welcome to our home! What are your names!?" The little girl asks, a wide smile on her face.

"My name is y/n,"

"Hello, I'm Choi Soobin," The little girl jumps in joy.

"My name is Jigeon!" The little girl says and sits down beside her father. Jihyo comes with a tray of cups of tea and she puts it down on the table. "Here is some tea, you may rest here for the night." Jihyo insisted,

"Ah, really? Thank you so much," you both smile at Jihyo before she sits down beside her husband.

"Big sister, do you believe in the magic of Fairyland and fairy tales?" The little girl asks, and she shows you her drawing of a fairy.

"Yes, I believe in magic but I don't know about fairy tales, love."

"If it's okay, can I ask why?" Jihyo asks, her eyes stuck on you and Soobin.

"I'm not saying I don't believe in them. It's just that so many people have retold them in different ways, no one knows the proper story." Suddenly, you remember the fairy in the bedroom from before.

"But I guess, I believe in some of them. Not everything about life will end in a happily ever after." She added and Daniel sighed in disbelief.

"Who believes in those things anyway?" He asks, causing Jihyo to chuckle.

Everyone continued to talk about fairy tales, facts about themselves, and what you and Soobin will do on the next day.

Soon, the evening arrived, and the family went to bed. You were staying in the extra bedroom they offered you both to sleep in. Soobin insisted on staying in the living room, for he doesn't want to trouble them.

They provided extra sets of clothes to wear for your next journey. It was a good and quiet evening, although the two couldn't sleep.

You exit your bedroom quietly and head to the living room. You halted your tracks when you saw Soobin still awake. He seemed to read a book; Soobin noticed your presence and smiled.

"Why are you still awake?" Soobin asks, "I should ask you the same." You let out a chuckle and sit beside him on the wooden couch.

"I'm just thinking of home. It was my choice to enter this forest but never thought of what could happen." Soobin lets out a heavy sigh.

"I can't relate at all. I got dragged here because I was told to look for you." you pout, Soobin laughs, and pats your head.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized.

"Don't apologize, I was dragged here in this book." you exclaimed, but soon realized what you said. Immediately, you cover your mouth and turn her head to look at Soobin.

"What- what do you mean?" Soobin was confused, but you just looked away.

"Well, what's the point? We probably won't see each other again after you go back home." You look into his eyes, which were showing sadness. The prominent frown on his lips.

Your eyes, however, were hopeful, and your head was still full of unanswered questions. You take Soobin's hand in yours.

"I don't belong in this place, or this world at all. It's hard to believe, but I'm from a whole other world. We are in a fairy tale that my great-grandfather retold." Soobin looks puzzled. But soon it disappeared.

It was replaced with a rather disappointed one. He looks at you and smiles. The disappointed smile made your heart flip.

"I understand, why were you dragged in this fairy tale, anyway?" He asks, his tone of voice was soft, unlike his usual tone.

"We have this family tradition of finishing what our ancestors started or else, they won't rest in peace. I was told to finish this book before my great-grandfather started and here I am," you answered.

Soobin just nodded and looked away. It disappointed- you're leaving after he finds his way back home. Though you talked little, he enjoyed your company.

Silence then came and took over. The two are quiet, both are scared to speak after your explanation. You sighed, which caught the attention of Soobin.

"Let's forget I said that and try to enjoy this dangerous journey until we get back. You should rest, we still have many things to do." You smile before you patted Soobin's head.

You were about to head back to your room until Soobin stopped you. You face the boy who has a smile on his face. "Good night, I hope you sleep well."

You smiled and nodded, "I hope you sleep well too." You went back to your room, the softest smile on your lips.

You lay on the bed, the comfort finally arrives, and you felt better. You close your eyes and let the sleepiness get to you. At last, ever since you came into the forest, you finally felt at ease.

The next day, you and Soobin thank the family once more before you get ready to leave. You both turn around and walk away from the family's cottage.

"What are we going to do now?" Soobin asks while he moves some branches for you to pass without getting hurt. "Find a way back home, stay out of trouble," you stated.

Soobin just agreed with you as he watched you walk in front of him. He was about to push away another branch until something grabbed his wrist. He turns around to check, but he sees no one.

He turns his head to the tree, and his eyes widen. His shadow was holding his wrist. He quickly takes his wrist back and follows you. Throughout your entire journey, Soobin's shadow kept on annoying him.

It made Soobin trip over nothing, hit himself twice, and kept on bothering him. It concerned you; you did not know what was going on until afternoon came.

"Soobin-," you turn around, but Soobin wasn't there at all.

"Soobin? Soobin!" You shout his name. But no one responded. You turn around again. But he still wasn't there.

He wouldn't leave you there, right? Something bad must've happened.

You took a step forward, only to trip on nothing, and hit your head. You wince, your palm caresses the pained part.

You sit up, scared to suddenly feel blood on your head. However, you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw an enormous palace. You get on your feet and make your way towards the two gold doors.

You caressed the gold details, fascinated by the beautiful designs. Suddenly, the doors open. You come face to face with the long hall of the palace. You took a step inside and the two doors shut itself. You walk your way through the palace, still fascinated by the interior of the humongous building.

Everything was gorgeous: the gold and white furniture, the marble tops, the large arched windows. You even discovered a room with stained glass windows, and a room with a grand staircase. There were many rooms which might take days exploring.

You find another room with two large doors. Except the doors were silver. You pushed the door open. Your mouth goes agape at the sight of millions of books. A soft smile makes it on your pink lips as you enter the library.

"This is magnificent," you mutter in amusement. You were about to take another step, however. Music plays in the halls. The music sounded like a waltz. You exit the library in curiosity and go towards the direction of the music.

The music changed its tone. It sounded more like a ballroom's music. You stop in front of a door, a silver one and gold one. You press your palms against the door and pushes it open.

Your eyes went wide at the sight of the dancing statues. They all turned at you and immediately returned to to their pedestals. You enter the hall and jumped when you heard the door shut behind you.

You look at the hall in front of you: The statues were porcelain or marble, but they all looked marvelous. You walked through the hall, but you halted your movements once you saw a familiar figure staring at one empty pedestal.

"Soobin!" You shout his name, the boy turns his head to look at your running figure. He smiles in relief and rushes towards you. Immediately, he embraced you.

"I thought I lost you!" You both said in sync.

"You vanished from my sight!" You both said again. Soobin breaks the hug and notices that you were staring at the pedestal behind him.

It belonged to the Marble lady he was singing to. You then remembered the music you heard that played throughout the entire palace. It was the lullaby Soobin was singing to the marble lady for the first time.

"Soobin, sing the lullaby you first sang to her." You said, your eyes full of curiosity, and Soobin does what he was told. After his lullaby, the marble lady materialises the pedestal. The marble lady looks down upon you both, only to flee the next minute.

"Wait! M'lady, come back!" Soobin chases her, you follow them through the long hall you were in. The waltz music plays again. The statues you both ran past were dancing again.

The marble lady opens a door and goes through it. Before Soobin could stop and analyze the door, he tripped through alongside you.

You were the first one to look where they ended up in. It looked like you returned to Fairyland. You hear a groan below you and your cheeks flushes red immediately. You quickly get off Soobin and help the tall male stand up.

"I'm so sorry, Soobin! I never realized you were below me," Soobin laughs and pats her head.

"It's not your fault, it's my fault for suddenly fleeing after the marble lady. By the way, where are we?" He asks- the trees looked shorter, more mushrooms on the trees, and lizards standing on two legs whilst wearing heavy armor.

"What is that!?" Soobin shouts in fear and shock. He hid behind you, even though he's the taller one. The creature turns its head at both of you before it pulls out its sword. Your eyes widen as you immediately get on your feet.

You inspect the lizard related creature. It looked like a dragon, but with no wings. The heavy armor makes a clicking sound every time they move. The creature looked strong; they are definitely not a match for neither of you. Suddenly, you remember what they are, they're from her great-grandfather's sketches. He calls them Kobolds!

"Kobold, sir... we mean no harm and we wouldn't want harm to us as well. Please, put your sword down. I promise you, we are weaponless." You reassured them. The kobold looked hesitant but eventually put his sword down.

"Why are there humans in our forest?" The kobold who you talked to ask the other beside him.

"Sir, we were chasing a marble lady but ended up here. Have you seen her? I also deeply apologize if we are trespassing on your property. All we wanted is to go back to our home," You added, and kobolds look at her in shock.

"You, lady. How can you understand us? We are speaking our own language," you assumed who was the leader asked you.

"What do you mean, good sir? You are speaking the human language," you tilt your head.

"Yes, s-sir. You are speaking the human language." Soobin stares at them, fear still prominent on his face.

"No, we are speaking our own language! I am guessing, there is some power in you that could make you understand us. That power makes it seem like we're speaking in your language," The kobold explains.

You look at Soobin and show him a relieving smile. He gulps the lump in his throat and holds your hand, tightly.

"Kobold, sir. Do you know how we can leave your forest?" you question the Kobolds who nod their heads.

"We could show you, but it will be a long journey. Maybe, along the way, you can tell me how you got here." He says, and you showed a reassured smile. The kobolds smile at your reaction.

"Splendid! We'll let you guide our ways," you say. The leader Kobold shows you both the way. Eventually, he would ask you questions about your sudden appearance.

Unbeknownst to you and the leader, Soobin was being mocked by the other Kobolds.

"Another question about us, how did you know we are Kobolds? It takes time for other creatures and spirits to know we are Kobolds." The leader asked. His eyes kept glancing at you and the path in front of him.

"I've seen a sketch of your kind in my great-grandfather's sketchbooks. His sketches are marvelous, always so realistic and splendid. You look very similar to the very first kobold he drew." You smile, suddenly, the kobold halt his steps. You did the same and turn to look at him. A softer and relieved look flashes over his face.

"It has been very long, I see. When did your great-grandfather pass away?" The kobold asks.

"The mid-last year. Why do you ask, sir? Do you know him?" You ask, curious about why he looks like that.

"It is nothing, we are almost there." The kobold smiles as you continue walking.

"Y/n, help me~ they kept on mocking me," you turn your head around. You try to contain your laughter when Soobin looks miserable in between all three kobolds. Soobin grunts and goes to your side.

"Aw, wittle baby wants his mommy~," The kobolds continued to mock Soobin who looked embarrassed. Soon enough, you were all outside the forest, and a much more pleasing sight greeted everyone.

It was a beach, its sand was a beautiful beige color, the waters were crystal clear, and there were sea shells of different sizes.

"This is beautiful, but how did we get to a beach?" Soobin asks, the kobold didn't answer and points at a boat by the docks.

"Get on that boat, let it take you to an island with a cottage. There will be an ancient lady. I believe she could help you." The kobold smiles,

"Thank you so much, Kobold Si-," you look at the Kobold who now looks like a human. He was still tall, however, he was more human than a creature.

"My name is Taehyun, a great friend of your great-grandfather. I'm glad he found a loved one and had a family. I'm hopeful you will continue this fairy tale for him." Taehyun smiles before he jogs forward you and Soobin.

"Now end this fairy tale. Good luck," you nod and hold Soobin's hand. You both bid them a goodbye before they both walk to where the boat is. Suspicions arise when you saw the man on the captain's seat.

"G'day~ I'm Jake! You're headed to that island, I believe?" He points his finger at the island across from you. The island has a cottage on it, but not that clear for both of them to see.

"If that's where the said ancient lady lives, then yes, that is where we are headed." Soobin says, and the man nods before he starts the engine of the boat. Soon enough, the boat moves at a rapid speed.

The clear blue sky was replaced with a dark cloudy one. The waves were getting larger, and the boat was unstable. Luckily for them, Jake was quick enough, and they made it to the island safely.

"Have a safe trip! Don't danger yourselves in that cottage! A young man went inside and never came out on the other side." Jake says as he watches you and Soobin get off the boat.

"Thank you, sir. Let's get going, y/n. I doubt this is the end," Soobin turns his head at the girl. You bobbed your head as you both entered the cottage.

The cottage was small, however, when they went inside, there were four doors. Each one made from different wood. Just 4 doors and nothing else.

"Y/n, I think we need to stay together this time," Soobin says as he watches you press your hand against the dark oak door.

"You think so?" You push the door open. Instantly, Soobin runs to your side and intertwines their hands. "Let's take a step together, shall we?" Soobin takes a deep breath and clasped your hand tighter.

You smile and like what you both agreed on; you took a step together.

Once you open your eyes, you were both back in the manor where it all started. However, Soobin was a young boy again.

"What- why am I child again?" Soobin asks, you chuckle, and kneels to pat his head.

"You're so cute, Binnie~," You say to which he smiles widely. He jumps into your arms and hugs you tightly. This reminded you of your youngest brother, the warmth of the little boy made you miss your home.

The door opens after a knock. Soobin breaks the hug as you both turn your heads at the door. The sight of his mother greets you both.

She was wearing a black dress that touches the floor. She looks sad, almost emotionless.

“I see you are handling my son well. Please, get him dressed. It is almost time for my son's funeral,” your eyes widen. You turn your head to look at Soobin.

His eyes of glee replaced with sadness when he remembered this dreadful memory of his.

"Of course, m'lady. We'll be ready in 30 minutes," His mother leaves the room and closes the door. You embraced Soobin once more, the boy completely melting because of your warmth.

"It may be just a memory and we're re-living it now, but I guarantee you, we'll leave this memory together. Let's get you dress, little one," you kiss forehead before standing up.

You went through his closet, pulling out the required attire. You give the boy his clothes and exit the room for the young boy to change.

"Is Soobin getting ready?" A man asks her. He had some of Soobin's features, so she assumed he's the father. "Yes, sir," you say and his father sighs.

"Please, as Soobin's personal maid and his friend, try to cheer him up. Other than you, he is very close with his brother." He says, obviously concerned. He looks like he was about to cry.

You pat his shoulder, "Sir, I ensure you that Soobin will be okay. He is a strong boy, he has gone through enough to prove that. Focus on saying goodbye to your eldest son, peacefully," you smile before you heard the door open.

"I'm done..." Soobin peeks his head out and you smile.

You excused yourself and enter Soobin's room. The boy was sitting down on the bed, "Is there something wrong?"

"I miss my brother and I know this is just a memory. I've accepted his death, so I'm not really sad, but must I re-live this memory again?" Soobin asks to which you didn't answer with words but a hug once more.

"It won't take long, I promise," you muttered and Soobin nods. Soon, you were called and told to get in the car provided. They drove you both to where the funeral is held.

Soobin looks at the familiar casket where the pale and lifeless body of his brother lay.. He walks closer to the casket, his hand in your grasp. He emotionlessly looks at his dead brother.

He was quiet the whole time they were saying their farewells to him. His grip on your hand only became tighter. They stand on the side. His parents were crying for his brother.

"Y/n, I can never see you again after I get back.... right?" Soobin whispers as he looks down. You look down at the young Soobin. You notice the tears falling from his eyes onto the grass.

"I'm more sad saying goodbye to you," Soobin wipes his tears away. You frown and patted his head. You couldn't say anything, you couldn't say you might meet again.

He embraced you once more before you were back to the cottage. Soobin wasn't a young boy, anymore. You turn their heads towards the door they went through, it's gone. Three doors remain.

You wipe his remaining tears away before she stands up. "Come on, let us continue." She smiles and helps Soobin stand up. "Now, let's go through the next door." The next door was made of birch.

Soobin opens the door, and he turns to look at you. He reaches his hand out, making you smile softly. You intertwined your hands and soon; you enter the door together.

You were back to the palace, in the hallway of the dancing statues. Soobin halts his movements once he sees Knight Yeonjun and the marble lady.

You glance at Soobin before at the other two. Yeonjun was holding the marble lady's hand. The lady was smiling and was leaning closer to his lips. It looked like she was about to kiss him.

"And here I thought, I could fall in love with her," Soobin sighs in disbelief. You laugh and shake your head and mentally ask him how he had that thought.

"How can you even fall in love with a marble lady? You just saw her, sing for her, and fall for her." You continue to laugh, Soobin joins you. His grip on your hand became tighter, and he rests his head on your shoulder.

"Heartbreak must really love me. It must love me so much since the marble lady loves the knight and you're going to leave soon," Soobin whispers, you feel guilty.

You bring his hand close to your lips. You place a soft kiss on his knuckles before you pecked his cheek.

"A handsome and kind fellow like you does not deserve heartbreak, Soobin. Maybe, you're just unfortunate." You sweetly smile as Soobin's cheeks flush red.

"Let's go," Soobin coughs, and in a blink of an eye, you were back to the cottage. The door was gone once again. Two doors remain.

You went through the next door, a door made of normal oak wood. You gasp in fear when your eyes land on the fearful sight in front of you both. Soobin was surprised as well, but as soon as he gained his mind back, he stood in front of you. The smell of iron fills the room.

You look around the room while staying close to Soobin. You cover your nose and hold tightly onto Soobin's shirt. "S-Soobin, I think... We're in your family's mausoleum." She stutters,

You shake at the gory sight in front of you. His mother laid dead on the floor. Blood covers her entire body. "We need to get out of here," Soobin kept his arms around you and ran out of the room.

He found the door and immediately went through it. You both returned to the cottage. Both tried to breathe the air with no smell of blood. "That was horrible..."

"One more door..." Soobin helps you get up. You were still shaking. You rest your head on Soobin's chest. As if he read your mind, he lets you stay like that and regain your breathing.

He kept his arms around you before he patted her head twice whilst you finally calm herself. She moves away from him, muttering a 'thank you' to him.

"Thank you, let's go through that door now. It's the last one," you say. Still holding his hand, Soobin nods. Soon, you both went through the door together once more.

However, when they entered the room, it felt like everything was spinning. Everything was getting blurry, and you both felt like you want to throw up. That continued for minutes, but it felt like forever.

Suddenly, someone grabbed your hands and dragged out them of the room. You let out a grunt as you make eye contact with the lady.

"What happened?" You ask softly, the lady helps you sit up. You turn your head to look at Soobin, who has his hands on his head.

"I saved you, but you remember nothing. Now, I want you both to leave this place. You opened all the doors. The island will sink. There is an isthmus outside the island. Use that and leave," The ancient lady drags you out of her cottage.

You wrap Soobin's arm around your shoulder before you cross the Isthmus. However, your strength ran out and you both black out when they made it to the other side of the Isthmus.

Soobin groans in pain as soon as he wakes up. He was warm, too warm to the point he was sweating. He sits up and looks around the place he was in. It was a blacksmith. Two men were forging swords and armor on the side.

One man looks at him and smiles. "Ah, you're awake! Your female friend is still asleep, but would you like some armor?" The brunette one asks him.

"Do not mind him. I'm Beomgyu and this is my brother, Huening Kai. We're forging weapons and armor to battle the three giants living in a stronghold! You could join us," Beomgyu smiles at him.

They confused Soobin: Is this how they treat people who just woke up? He looks around. No sign of you or anything. "Where is the girl?" He asks as Huening Kai points at another door.

"She is still unconscious. You can enter the room but do nothing. I will not hesitate to chop your head off." Huening Kai says as he shows him an axe he forged. Soobin nods and enters the room.

You were still unconscious, like they said. He moves to sit beside you and brushes the hair away from your face. He studied your facial features. What attracted him the most are your eyes and your lips. Soobin holds your hand and kisses it. "Please, wake up soon," He says and the door cracks open.

"Join our fight while she's still asleep. I will give you armor, don't die on her," Beomgyu smiles and Soobin follows him. He didn't even get time to prepare himself.

He just woke up, talked to these two brothers, checked on you, and now he's joined their fight. No time to prepare at all. The fight was going well until other giants ambushed them. Both brothers died and Beomgyu has asked him to tell the girl he loves that he loves her.

Soobin nods and kills all the giants; their blood splattered all over him. He looked like a piece of bloody meat. Everything happened too quick. He couldn't comprehend anything at all.

Soobin returns to their now empty home and sees you. As soon as your eyes landed on him, they grew wide. He was covered with blood, head to toe, as the smell of iron fills the room. He quickly apologizes and head to the bathroom.

After cleaning, Soobin explained everything to the worried you. You sighed in relief. He survived and embraced the tall male. He's now the hero of the kingdom he just saved.

"Soobin, we need to journey again. I'm sorry I was unconscious for a while," you whisper. Soobin chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you closer to him.

His eyes staring directly at hers as his heart beats quicker. He leans closer and pecks her lips, which surprises her. He leans back and examined your reaction. You were surprised but definitely not disappointed.

You leaned over and closed the distance between you both. Your arms around his neck whilst he placed you on the table. Your lips connected and warmth fills the cold room. The kiss felt euphoric for both of you.

Soobin breaks the heated kiss and rests his chin on top of your head.

"It's alright, but we need to find the woman one brother loved. We need to tell her how he felt about her," Soobin says and changed his clothes into lighter ones. You flushed red and turn around.

"Must you really change in front of me!? How did you get so confident?" You pout, your cheeks grew warmer. Soobin finishes changing his clothes and wrapped his arms around your waist once more.

"I am now a hero of a kingdom I saved. I must have confident to be a great hero. Also, I just kissed the girl I fell in love with... I feel really confident," Soobin says. You pouted and turned around to face him.

You pecked his lips before you start your next journey. It felt like it has been months since you entered this world. How much longer do they have to journey for to return home?

"Let's hurry, we must race the night." Soobin, his facial features stand out more when his hair is brushed back. You froze on your spot when Soobin wrapped his cloak around your shoulder.

They both left the kingdom's grounds. Both staying close with each other as they walked through the forest. Suddenly, your kiss popped inside into your head.

Your first kiss... taken by a man whom you met in a storybook.

You dreamy sigh, you noticed the sun was setting. However, your eyes grew wide in surprised when you saw Soobin's shadow moving. It looked like it was about to hit him with something.

"Soobin, watch out!"

Soobin wakes up in a cell. His eyes go wide when he sees you unconsciously laid beside him. “Y/n! Y/n, please wake up!” He rests your head on his lap. He flinched his head to the side when he heard something fall from the other side of the call.

“You fool! I will get you!” Soobin enrages when he saw his shadow. It looked like it was laughing at him. He fights the tears that threatened to fall and face you once more.

"Please, wake up. You don't know how much you mean to me right now. I have fallen, fallen deeply in love with you, y/n. Please, wake up, my love," Soobin says as he pecks your lips once more.

Days have passed, Soobin has refused to eat anything his shadow has offered him. You remained unconscious, which worried him. However, he knows you will wake up; you are still breathing, after all.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, and Soobin pull immediately pulled you closer to him. "Y/n! Thank goodness!" He hugs you tightly as you questioned the unknown events.

"We will find out way out, I promise," Soobin clasps her hand.

"Bin, we're in a cell underground... How can we escape?" She mutters,

"I do not know, but we will find a way-," Soobin was cut off by a song. A lady was singing a song, although they don't know where the lady is coming from. Suddenly, the cell broke and Soobin could shield you from the metal pieces.

"Are you okay?" You ask Soobin, who nodded. Immediately, you get out of the cell and ran upstairs. The song still being sung, and it only stopped when they made it far away from the underground.

"Her voice sounded like the fairy I met before entering fairyland," you stated. Your hand supported the side of your forehead.

"Ah, really?" You nod at Soobin's word. You both continued to walk through the depth of the forest. Soobin was still holding her hand, but you felt safe with him.

You wished you could stay longer with him, however, your life outside of the book stopped you. You have a family to take care of, a world to go back to. You can't stay and low-key dreading for this book to end.

You both stopped once you heard the rustling of leaves on your side. Soobin stood in front of you, ready to fight whatever was coming, until Knight Yeonjun appears with his white horse.

"Ah! Soobin and y/n! Nice to see you again, all safe and sound!" He says and looks at you. A softer smile appears on his lips as he reaches out a sheathed sword to Soobin. The action confused Soobin.

"Become my squire, Soobin! We shall return to my kingdom soon, and I can guarantee you and y/n safety." Yeonjun spat and Soobin looks at you for permission, once you nod your head, he accepts the offer.

He lets go of your hand to take the heavy sword from Yeonjun. Soobin thanks Yeonjun and smiles at y/n, who thanked him as well.

You both follow Yeonjun, talking a little with the knight. Soobin smiles widely whenever he sees you smile. His smile disappeared when his mind reminded him you have to leave soon. Soobin halted his steps when he heard voices. He stood in front of you while Yeonjun pulled out his sword to fight whoever was there.

Suddenly, he was hit on the head causing him to pass out.

A day later, Soobin wakes up in an unknown room once again. The room was dark, the only light source was the candle on the side. He looks around for y/n, only to realize you aren't on his side. He gets off whatever he was lying on and rushed out of the building.

Suddenly, he sees 5 men around a platform. One of them looks at Soobin, a smirk on his lips, and his platinum blonde hair almost covers his eye. Another boy looks at him, he has blonde hair with yellow highlights.

"Sleeping beauty has woken up! How was your sleep? I'm certain you are looking for the girl," the platinum blond says. Soobin sees the platform behind them, his eyes widen when he saw you seated on the platform. You weren't unconscious, but it looked like you weren’t yourself.

Your gaze stayed on the ground and your eye colors looked pale. That's when Soobin felt furious. He rushes towards them but was stopped by another one of them.

"Let go of me!" He kicks the guy off and grabs the idol beside you.

"Don't let him-!" Soobin smashed the idol on the ground. He pulls you closer to him and sees a horrendous monster coming out of the shattered idol. Soobin grabbed the sword from the side and gently placed you down.

"Y/n! If I'm going to die here, please... at least wake up!" Soobin stood still when he felt the monster's arm inserted inside of him. He snickers when he saw the sword in the monster's chest.

"Farewell, my love... I hope you get back home safely."

Soobin gasped before he jolted up from his bed. He looks around the spacious room. Was it all a dream? Why is he suddenly back in his room after death? He hears the door open and sees his mother enter the room.

She runs towards Shotaro and embraces him immediately. Tears stream down her eyes as she kisses her son's forehead. The warmth of her son she missed dearly. A sense of relief fills the hole in her heart.

"I'm so happy you're back... you've been gone for 21 days!" Her mother cries and Soobin felt his heart stop. Soobin felt like he spent years in fairyland... Why did it seem like his long journey lasted for years then?

He looks out of his window, his head full of thoughts of you. He smiles softly and hugs his mother tightly. All he hopes for is that you are safe and are in another world you need to complete.

You were back in the mysterious room. You receive another holographic card which says; 'Chapter two'. She turns it around and sees the title of the next fairytale.

Suddenly, you were in a normal room. The paper appeared in front of you as it wrote it own's words.

"Chapter two; The Little Mermaid."

[princebugs]

A meeting with Niles.

Quivering digits rub and scratch at the back of his own neck, goosebumps rising as his eyes shift from corner to corner. He swallows, the nervous lump in his throat dissipating for only mere moments before quickly arising once more. His movements remain shaky, and shifty. He feels nervosa creeping up his spine leisurely, causing his hyperactivity to skyrocket. Remaining still is no easy task.

The male can almost discern a feeling of eyes on the back of his brunette tresses, watching him from the shadowed corner of the room. Perhaps a figure is awaiting the perfect time to pounce on the human and rip his throat out, at a pace fast enough that he wouldn't scream--- no one would hear his death. He whips his head in that direction, his heart pounding against his chest.

Cue a sigh of relief.

It's just dust. It's just dust, Gavin. Can't hurt you. Maybe fuck with your allergies a bit, but it won't hurt you. You're probably just crazy, like your uncle Kevin--- he still lives in that shed, right? Still talking about those damned 'creatures of the night', hiding in there with a shotgun with hopes that he'll be the one to kill 'em.

Maybe you'll be like that soon, if these delusions go any farther.

A sound of a doorknob clicking interrupts his thoughts and causes the male to jump in his seat, right forearm raising in a defensive manner before realizing that it was only his new therapist, clad in a black turtleneck and black pants.

When did he get here?

Gavin briefly takes a glance down at himself, and is just a slight bit pissed at himself for not dressing nicer.

If this was anything but a therapy session where Gavin would have to speak openly about his mental problems, he would have dressed better. He didn't see the point of wearing something appealing when it was just therapy, and his therapist was most likely going to be some old man or young female that he didn't need to impress.

Sadly for him, the male was definitely not an old man. He looked, roughly, around Gavin's age--- yet he had the sort of timeless face that could pass for a nineteen-year-old. The turtleneck's sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Gavin usually considers turtlenecks "phckin' ugly" but this guy has changed the definition for him.

And he was overwhelmingly pale. Did he never go outside?

Lesson learned. Wear cute clothes EVERYWHERE.

“Mr. Reed?“ A voice brings Gavin out of his train of thought, and he notices that the male is no longer standing, and is, in fact, sitting right in the position ahead of him, with his head tilted in slight concern as well as confusion.

Dammit.

“Shit, ah,“ Gavin struggles to push away his thoughts for the time being, his nails scratching at the back of his neck as he awkwardly laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah. That's me, alright.“

The therapist merely emits a soft chuckle, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks that he's making a mental note of some sort--- probably from his behavior. This feels almost like a job interview, and that makes Gavin straighten out his back and lock eye-contact with the male across from him, his cerulean optics now gazing into steel hues. This, however, prompts another brief snicker from him.

“This isn't a professional setting, Mr. Reed. You can sit however you see fit; it is better that you feel comfortable while we converse with one another.“

Gavin's brows furrow together in exiguous uncertainty--- this man spoke like he was reading from a college art essay. Though he said it wasn't professional, it almost felt like it was; like Gavin was being judged for every single movement he followed through with.

It was almost as if he was being ordered to feel more comfortable, which is the most awkward thing ever. It puts on pressure, and makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Gavin leans back, slouching a modest amount whilst placing his elbows on the back of the couch he sat upon. He stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, and his therapist was studying his body language the entire time.

Gavin would consider this creepy, but it's alright because it's his therapist.

“I'm Dr. Anderson, but you can just refer to me as Niles,“ His therapist--Niles-- begins, his nimble fingers picking up a set of reading glasses and placing them on his visage for a few moments to seemingly read Gavin's file, then setting both the glasses and the file down on the table in front of him. “How about you tell me why you set this urgent appointment with me, hm?“

His voice was smooth, like velvet draped across pale skin. It brought chills down Gavin's back. Compared to how coarse and rough Gavin's voice was, Niles' voice was soothing.

Calm down, dude. This isn't a therapy session for questioning your sexuality. Reply to his question, fucknut!

“Yeah, sure, sure. Uh, where do I fuckin' start?“ Again, Gavin laughs to release some tension, and when the room is silent, he coughs. And continues. “Hah, erm... well, I've been having these weird delusions and feelings of someone watching me. Paranoia, or whatever. I can't sleep, either.“

The concept of therapy wasn't really Gavin's thing; the idea of sharing all of his thoughts with another person was just plain idiotic, in his opinion. He'd much rather keep his feelings to himself, but since his mother called him out of the blue and informed him that she had scheduled an appointment with an "experienced therapist with good reviews" (which sounded shady as hell) because she was worried.

Truth is, he couldn't blame her for being worried. He had shut himself in his apartment, and wasn't even going to work the majority of the time. And when he did go to work, he only got sent home because he continuously kept falling asleep at his desk. Probably because he doesn't feel the eyes on him as he sleeps at work.

“Interesting,“ Niles bobbed his cranium in confirmation, his weight now leaning back as he crosses his arms over one another. He always seems like he is analyzing Gavin in some way.

Weird as fuck.

“So, perhaps you could be having some sort of stalker, or PTSD from something happening to you in the pa--“

“No, no. It's not like that.“

Niles seems suddenly interested and more inclined to listen, his head once again now tilted to the side in curiosity as his brows raise upwards. “Oh?“

Gavin gulped--- the aura that this guy gave off was intimidating as hell, and it was difficult to trust him. “Yeah, like... if it was something like that, then wouldn't I feel some sort of recognition kind of thing? Stalkers are usually people that the person knows personally or knew personally, and PTSD... don't think that's applicable to this situation. I don't think it's that.“

“Elaborate.“

“If it was PTSD, then it wouldn't feel so... so...“ He struggled to search and find the correct vocabulary, the right words-- it was on the tip of his tongue. His eyebrows knit together in comprehension, irises looking down at the couch as he--

“Real?“

Niles' tone is almost demanding in generality; it causes Gavin to shudder and almost cower in fear. Momentarily, he remembers how stern his father's voice was, how it terrified him to his core. Fear can make anyone curl in on themselves.

Gavin nods his head, his grey-blue hues now gazing out the large-sized window located directly to his left, watching as doves fly away. “Y-- yeah. Real. I've experienced PTSD before, and it's nothing like that, at least not this time. It's inhuman, almost. Like... like someone, some thing is going to pounce on me at any second. I don't feel safe in my apartment by myself. Hah, I even had a little moment in here before you got here--- thought something was in the corner.“

His therapist only stares, bobbing his head every now and then as a way to show that he was listening. Though, it didn't seem like it. It was as if he already knew everything that Gavin was saying. He identifies a sudden feeling of recognition--- one that chills Gavin to his very core.

“I, uh--- have I met you before?“ The detective leans forward now, setting his elbows on his knees. He can feel the shadows under his eyes growing deeper-- is that normal? How long had it been since he had slept? Gavin's calloused phalanges weave through his brunette locks, then gripping them tightly. “God, I must be going crazy. Of course, I haven't seen you anywhere--- what am I thinking? Turnin' into Uncle Kev-- I've been seein' shit that just isn't there. It's probably just sleep deprivation, and this therapy session won't do anything, I'm just wastin' my ti--“

“Here, walk with me outside,“ His incoherent rambling is cut short by Niles' request.

Gavin's pate raises upwards, catching sight of the therapist's outstretched palm, reaching for him. Motioning for Gavin to take his hand. His eyes lock with Niles.

“Wowza! Hand-holding? At least take me out to dinner first, eh?“ Gavin internally slaps himself. Meanwhile, Niles just rolls his eyes. Not in an annoyed way--- in an amused manner. Phew, Gavin didn't scare away his therapist.

“Come on, you said that being in here made you have a little 'fit' as well, right? Perhaps being out instead of holed inside your apartment will make you feel better, in some fashion?“

Gavin ponders about his next move, though it didn't seem much like a request at this point. Niles just seemed like he was politely ordering him to go outside. Reluctantly, he places his tan-colored hand in Niles' pale palm, letting his hand envelop over Gavin's and pull him up to his feet abruptly.

---------------------------

They meandered around the perimeter of the building for several moments, neither of them uttering a single word the duration of their walk. Gavin wasn't particularly skilled at breaking the ice when it came to long periods of silence similar to this; he would usually make it worse, actually. Saying something that would be so unexpected that it catches the recipient off-guard, or something that just makes the air between them extremely awkward all of the sudden.

Eventually, Gavin can't stand it anymore. He coughs to clear his throat up, his hand clenching into a fist for him to cough into for a few moments before scratching at the back of his neck again, and again.

“So, like, you have any family around this area, or are you new to Detroit?“

Greaaat question, Gavin. What if he has no family, and you just brought up shitty memories? GOOD GOIN', PRICK.

Niles hums. “I am relatively new here, but my brother lives here with me. You probably saw him whilst walking around the building, yes? Shorter than me, brown eyes?“

Gavin recalls seeing someone who fit that description. “Yeah, that's your brother?“

“Indeed, he is. He's... a little brat sometimes, prefers to do his own thing, but he's still family. We had to move rather abruptly due to some... sudden consequences of our actions, I suppose. Nothing for you to worry about.“

That bewildered Gavin, but he decided not to press further.

Luckily, Niles kept the conversation going. If the silence began once more, Gavin thought he could die.

“You mentioned an uncle earlier?“

Right, during his ramble.

“Yeah, hahah--- Uncle Kevin. He's like, the weird family member, y'know? The one who lives in a shed with a shotgun--- claiming that he'll prevent the apocalypse by killing the bloodsuckers, or something like that,“ Gavin laughs at this, yet Niles is silent.

“How peculiar. Bloodsuckers, you say?“ Niles inclines his head towards Gavin, his arms remaining behind his back as he walked. “What do you think of that?“

Gavin's face scrunches up, emitting a confused noise before sighing softly, remembering that this was a therapy session after all. “I dunno, man. Frankly, I think the idea of vampires existing is stupid as fuck, actually. Like, wasn't it just a myth, or fairytale? Or something like that. Nonetheless, it's hella dumb, and I don't believe in it one bit. If I ever saw a vampire in front of my face, I'd probably call it ugly and scream.“

Niles does laugh at this. “Be careful about what you say, Mr. Reed, you never know who, or what, might be listening.“

The way he said this caused shivers to go down Gavin's back. He sneered at Niles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and emitting a disgruntled huff. “Don't even joke about that shit, man. I mean, I may find it funny, but the way you say that shit just makes me feel hella uneasy.“

“What if I told you that you should be feeling uneasy right now, Gavin?“ Niles' tone is almost playful, like a cat playing with its prey before chomping down on it.

Gavin just emits a confused noise in return. “Huh?“ He should be feeling uneasy? Why is that such a... weird statement to make?

“I'm just messing with you-- a mere jest. Everyone feels uneasy with their new therapist; that's a sign that you're normal, Gavin.“

Exhaling a soft suspire of relief. “See, when you're all serious like that all the time, I can't even tell the difference between the real seriousness and the fake. That's what makes me feel uneasy.“

“That's how life really is, though. No one can distinguish reality from dream, but we believe that we can. How sure are you right now that you are in reality? At this exact moment, do you know if I am real, or a figment of your imagination?“ The taller male stops in his tracks, and Gavin struggles to stammer out his reply.

Gavin turns his head to Niles.

“I-- I'm totally freaked right now, dude. You're gettin' all... weird. How the fuck did we go from talkin' about vampires to--- this??“

“Gavin. Keep your windows unlocked at night, okay? It's extremely difficult for someone to break a window in a quiet manner. And it just becomes a hassle to clean up later on...“

What the fuck?

Gavin has no time to respond, Niles speeds up and just walks away with a mere wink and a smirk with relatively sharp canine teeth for a human. Remarkably, Niles had no shadow. Weird, weird, weird. Everything about Niles was weird and unexplainable.

Gavin is left on the pavement outside the building with no one around him, awkwardly standing there. He didn't know where to go. Should he follow Niles? No, no--- Gavin didn't want to be around him anymore.

He must look pathetic, wanting to run away and cry to his mother about what had just occurred--- but he'll do it nonetheless.

There was only one thing that Gavin knew from his first and last encounter with his therapist.

He's locking the windows.

---------------------------------------

ALSO POSTED ON AO3:

[beetrootbug]

I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to come off as though I was attacking you or anything, I thought I was simply just asking questions. I'm really happy that you've found a way for your niece to engage in STEM that also appeals to her interests. And as for the Barbie website thing, sorry I should have explained that I meant for when she was older, of course not right now.

Based on the way you worded it, my brain defaulted to thinking it was inherently negative. I hear a lot about how young girls (and women in general) are shamed for liking girly things and how they would be "so much more beneficial" if they did something "more masculine" like STEM. I had a friend who was obsessed with the arts and fashion, but because she was a "gifted kid", she was always encouraged to go towards STEM. She was miserable but she did it anyways because she thought it would be a waste of her smarts not to. She wanted to do something "girly" but she couldn't because it wasn't the "better option".

I get very annoyed when people force girly shit on their kids. I get annoyed when I see parents insist that their "little princess" needs the pink thingy or whatever. But i also get annoyed when see people make fun of girls for liking pink or princesses or sparkles and what not. The way you worded made me think you were disappointed in your niece for liking those things.

I guess I feel it a little as well. I used to be obsessed with STEM and I always dreamed of being a scientist, but then quickly began realising how difficult and stressful that would be. I tried so hard to work my way towards paleontology but shit just kept getting more and more overwhelming. People still ask me why I don't do coding any more and why I "don't like STEM" (I still do, just not in a "useful" way), it was kinda everywhere where I grew. I lived in mining towns, that put a very big emphasis on getting girls into STEM, but for the purpose of continuing growing that company. Kids were constantly conditioned into wanting to be workers for the company.

I say all this to say, I automatically assumed the other extreme, and I'm sorry for coming across as hostile or attacking you. I'm really happy that you're exposing your niece to the world of STEM and opening up many possibilities for her. It just that the way you worded it sounded as though you were comparing her to her brother and putting down what she enjoyed because it was hyper feminine. I'm sorry for making assumptions, I have the tendency to jump to conclusion WAY to quickly. I also figured you weren't trying to be misogynistic or anything, I read through your blog and you didn't seem like the sort which was why I was even more confused. I really should've asked in a much nicer way but i didn't even realise i sounded like i was berating you. i really appreciate you explaining everything to me, I really like learning the perspective of others as it helps me broaden my worldview.

Sorry for rambling

I wish you and your niece the best and commend you for trying to break a toxic cycle. I hope you have a good rest of your day!

I want to encourage my 4 year old niece in STEM the way her older brother is encouraged but unfortunately currently her main interest is solidly disney princesses and specifically the really girly hyperfeminine ones so if I want to get her toys she likes they're almost entirely going to be dolls in dresses and glittery fake jewelry etc

[hartsgold]

❛ what is almyra like, claude ? i haven't heard much about it in the empire, but as far as i know, your region and almyra don't have the nicest history. what made you want to change it ? ❜

at least she doesn’t say home

        he wonders what she means by ‘his region.’ if dorothea means the continent his mother comes from, then he supposes, yes, there’s no abundance of kindness between their people. the years claude has spent in the dissonant gap of too little almyran and too little fódlan are not yet over –– they follow him nearly everywhere he goes. it’s the hardship of ending this great war against the empire that allowed him to begin opening eyes on a more personal level. 

          the almyran reinforcements that have assisted so instrumentally in the heat of several battles all but in the nick of time have devastated the empires’ forces. for all of fódlan’s fear, the truth is this: those fangs and claws they all dread so much came to be their salvation. everything he’s planned up until now has been one day to the next. back-up plan after back-up plan after back-up plan; the process has been excruciating. had he any less patience, claude might have run himself out of his own head. 

          but dorothea asks what made him want to initiate this change, and claude smiles. rich and deep and sure as violet. his dimples pull and he rests a cheek in his hand, elbow propped along the coffee table’s edge. 

          “’not the nicest’ might be putting it lightly.” he takes a quick drink of his tea –– the leicester cortania. its taste is bitter in the heat on his tongue. “when i was a kid, i used to wish that it all stemmed from some age-old rivalry. that maybe, at the core of it, there were just two households that didn’t get along and everyone else just played into their grudge.” of course, that was the frustrated, wishful thinking of a child. “that it wasn’t merely a widespread voluntary misunderstanding. but the reality is more along the lines of people seeing something others do that they’re not used to, and deciding they don’t like it. they can’t stand the sight of people doing something differently than they do, even though those people often have nothing to do with them in the first place.” 

          claude’s voice would sharpen, and his face might tense, if he weren’t so expertly controlled. rather, his expression stays even and his voice remains calm. “i grew up under the impression that my mother had the blood of a coward, and that she had passed it down to me. i never believed it, of course. she was the strongest person i could think of, having left home to start over someplace new. but all kinds of people saw her and thought that she was no more than an outsider. they figured i was just the same.” 

          “so, what choice did i have? ah –– that’s not true. i had every choice. i could perpetuate the same resentment and isolated attitude my two homes were so insistent on, or i could do something different.” his tea cools when he blows on it lightly, setting the cup gently down. “that’s all there is to it. someone had to get their hands into the dark side of tradition. when i was younger, i recognized that i had enough power and status to step into the shoes of someone capable of making a difference. i’d have to be careful, but i knew how to do that. so it was mostly a no-brainer. in seeking out the power to make a change in fódlan, i could build a different world –– a better world for children who might have grown up like me.” alone, estranged, and suffocated in the definition of the split-self. he hopes no one’s children ever has to bear the same. 

          “but hey, that’s only one end of tradition. you asked about almyra, didn’t you? i might have endured more than i should have –– but it wasn’t all bad.” his memories of home complicate each other, but claude grins nonetheless. “almyra is beautiful. not too many people from fódlan could claim to know the sun like we do there. the sands and plants that thrive in adversity are aplenty, and i grew up near wildlife of all kinds. my father told me stories of wyverns and stallions in legends, of camels and elephants in their herds, of great birds that scavenged and provided for their families. nothing was too mythical.”

          he doesn’t get into the polytheistic ideals that many people in almyra ascribe to, mostly considering he only follows along loosely. it’s better he appeal to dorothea’s interests, after all –– he’s been talking quite a bit. “but hey, the arts are just as colorful there as they are here. the music i was raised on is vibrant and goes straight to the heart. you’d love it, i’m sure. most of my instrumental talents go back to almyra –– the chang and the setar are native to my home. the markets get wildly busy, and you’d love the decor they sell there. the children will laugh, and dance, just like they do when we celebrate with a feast. i wouldn’t even get me started on food.”

          at the end of the day, almyra is rife with traditions that don’t hold anyone back. “the people who harbor prejudice in fódlan sees the wyverns we ride in on and the spirit we fight with and they assume it’s vicious, or brutal, rather than heartfelt and vigorous. it’s similar to the way certain people’s codes of honor see the way i utilize tactics and call me ruthless or dishonorable. the inherent fear of difference would separate people forever, if they let it.” 

          claude’s eyes find hers, and they glint with all the certainty of a man who’s only accomplished the first of his many great goals. “but i won’t let it.” 

          “you’ll have to excuse all my rambling. there’s a lot to talk about, you know? this is only the beginning of us bridging what we don’t understand about each other. either way, i appreciate the curiosity. and the opportunity to bend your ear, of course.” 

[jonathanraychapman]

Why I Don't Think NES Games Will Be Cheap in 10 Years

There seems to be a consensus right now that the retrogaming market is in a bubble.  I don't necessarily think this is true because that implies things are artificially inflated (instead of just growing over time the way other hobbies do).  Though I do concede that prices have certainly shot up more quickly than expected, I think we have years to go before they drop (and that drop will just be a correction if anything).  

I'm a collector of several things - comics, toys, collectible card games, etc.  There are items that have shot up in value and that manage to hold value over time (i.e. comics) and items that had their time but then fell in popularity (i.e. beanie-babies and possibly Pop figures).  

I want to go into reasons that NES games will continue to hold value (from what I can see are the following (and how the relate to NES collecting).  I realize that some games are very common and had a very large distribution run and so I'm going to address that at the end.

1) Merit. There's some innate merit to the collectible as an artistic and/or craftsmanship aspect.  It's either got great visuals, innate craftsmanship, or tells a narrative.  For example: People collect old VHS tapes because of the artwork - not because of the contents or the functionality of the tape.  For visual items, they keep their value because of the merit of what they are (i.e. a comic cover can be appreciated visually while the story can still be read for narrative appeal).  Sure, there are other ways to get the same effect without the original (i.e. a scan of a cover or a cheaper bound collection of comics).  But the original item keeps its value because it’s the first time this came into being.

A lot of NES boxes and labels include fantastic artwork (sometimes fantasy cover art borrowed from novels) - despite the game not having much merit on its own.  An example is Gauntlet on NES.  Moving on to craftsmanship, sometimes games have amazing pixel artwork or music (such as games from Sunsoft like Batman).  And sometimes a game is just really well-made (like Super Mario Bros. 3 or Metroid).  People want to own the game - the original vision.

On the flipside, Atari 2600 artwork is also great, but that's a system that has fallen by the wayside (outside of rare carts).  People often bring that system up when they predict the future for the NES.  But I don't think this is a proper parallel, because the 2600 didn't have the cultural reach that the NES did and the games weren’t the original vision.  Let me explain.

The home ports (i.e. Space Invaders) were there on Atari 2600 first and foremost because of the popularity of the arcade cabs.  While the artwork is great on the Atari boxes, the cart labels didn’t reflect that art and the games themselves were lackluster as well.  So when you factor in the game crash, the lackluster ports, the cultural reach being really that of the arcade instead, you get this situation where the demand just isn't there.  That a high value is still there for original Atari 2600 games and rarer landmark games for the system just backs up this hypothesis of why the common bulk of the library is not reflective of the NES.

Basically, being resigned to the dollar bin won’t be so much of a problem with the NES - of course depending on the game.  Sure, there's not going to be much of a demand for Blackjack (it will drop from $50 to probably $10) or the sports games as time goes on, but the heavy-hitters are going to keep their price (though it might settle over time).  And much like the better Atari 2600 games, the better NES games will also maintain value.  There are so many more original (non-port) NES games in the library that the bulk of the set will see a continuing value.

2) Nostalgia.  Sometimes we want things that remind us of our childhood (usually between the ages of 7 and 14).  This is why people collect Castle Grayskull playsets, old tin toys, or old refrigerator magnets.  The previous generations would have wanted western memorabilia (like Roy Rogers toys).  This is also why we buy a 1st appearance comic we had as a kid - only now graded and slabbed in plastic enclosement.  At this point, it's a useless item from an everyday perspective, but when we gaze on it, it gives us a certain emotional resonance.  I know it’s hard for some people to understand, but NES games have this same sentimentality.  When you flip through a Zelda instruction booklet, you get that same tingle that reminds you of when you were a kid.  It feels great and it’s a reason people collect.

So - besides the gameplay obviously - this is the reason that games like Zelda and Castlevania are still so popular and have snowballed in popularity over the years (as multiple generations have experienced them at different times).  The NES Zelda has that cool gold cartridge we remember from our youth.  Castlevania has that amazing cover and label artwork that brings us back to when we first played or rented it.  These are the highlights for a retrogame collector - even though we may - in practice - play them with flash carts.  

Despite these games being best-sellers, so many people will hold on to them and will continue soaking up the games from the market.  It’s not that the best-selling games are unobtainable at the distribution rates.  So of course there’s going to be a ceiling on the value (Zelda may stay at $20-50 for decades).  But I’m arguing that there will continue to be a floor and you may even see these games slowly rise in value over time (especially since the games checks several boxes as far as a collectible and is only held back in value by the number of carts out there).  Also keep in mind that collectors want better copies of these games - so they may upgrade the gold cart with damage to a pristine one (same with the box).

3) Popularity/Prestige.  We tend to hold on to prestige items in our collection.  As a collector we might collect rare items just because they're rare.  Partially this is to show off and impress people, but most of the time it's because we cherish a thing because other people cherish it (we all start to think a thing is cool and so it becomes cool).  Human emotions are pretty complicated and this reason might not seem valid.  But it's real.  This might also be seen as speculation (assuming you’re going to trade or sell the item later), but I’d argue that emotion plays a part and the majority of people that acquire a rare game once it’s show up in value somewhat aren’t playing the long-game for profit.  They’re just hooked themselves.

As far as the NES goes, games like Little Samson and items like the NES World Championship carts certainly fit this line of value.  People want them because other people want them.  They’re cool.  

Little Samson is also really fun and has the other aspects of collecting (which was the catalyst for it shooting up in price), but it's hyped up because of its late-release low print run (and also because it has some historical merit).  And because it's a holy grail type of item, people really want it in their collection - even if they're not going for a full NES run.

The NES World Championship cart (involving both the gold and gray carts that are out there) has been an interesting item to see go up in value.  If the entire NES library was of common items, there might not be as much of a collector crowd for it.  When there’s only a few of a thing, this drives up interest.  This is no different than Air Raid for the Atari 2600 - which drew in news reporters just like it did collectors.  The championship carts are the equivalent to the first Superman comic for game collectors.  It’s both a prestige item and it’s of historical significance to a certain degree.  While you see carts going for upwards of $100K at auction in news stories, and it’s hard to imagine that item keeping its value, you’ve also got Action Comics #1 (first Superman) selling for over $3 million.  I just don’t see this item going for less than the auction amount.

4) History.  A sought-after or expensive comic might be a key issue - meaning that it has significance for the development of a character.  And this will probably be the reason it’s went up in price over the years.  It might not matter much to consider on its own artwork and story, but as part of a collection, it's a critical find.  People tend to hold on to these and they are the linchpin to a collection - filling a gap in a franchise’s story.  This is where items like The World Championship Carts and the much-cheaper Tengen games come into play (i.e. the gray Namco Pac-Man vs the black Tengen Pac-Man).  There's a story to tell with these items and people want them to feel like they're a part of the history of games.  

It’s not enough just to be relevant for the story to preserve or increase the market value of a game.  The item must also have a rarity to keep a value (as they usually don’t have the same popularity, nostalgia, or merit to keep a value (outside of the history-seekers).  In the case of the Pac-Man cart, the grey one (that’s licensed) goes for $15 while the more-common (unlicensed) black one goes for $10.  That’s not really a big difference.

Maybe a better example is the Tengen Tetris (which was pulled when Nintendo did their own deal with the USSR to acquire the rights).  The Tengen version looks worse than Nintendo’s, but it has a label referencing the “Soviet Mind Game” and also has 2-player co-op.  It was also pulled from store shelves following a lawsuit - so it’s also rare.  The Tengen version of Tetris goes for upwards of $60 while the Nintendo version goes for less than $5.  I don’t see the value on either version dropping either.

I know for a lot of people it’s hard to imagine that these games will retain value and even go up over time.  In the 80’s and 90’s NES cartridges were ubiquitous; they were everywhere.  In the early 2000’s - as gamers dropped them to move on to other gaming systems - you couldn’t give them away.  Even rare games went for less than $2.  Now the games are harder and harder to find at yard sales and they’re commanding a decent price.  We live in the digital age.  People have access to price guides and auction sites no matter where they are.  

To many the increase in game prices appears to be a bubble.  And yes, maybe there’s some pricing corrections coming (especially on some of the hotter items that may be overvalued).  But the trend for these games will continue to rise and the prices that games go for now will seem like bargains later on.  It doesn’t matter that we’re moving to a digital age where the physical media isn’t required.  This has happened with comics (they were put into graphic novels or cheaper bound drug store copies) and the prices have only continued to rise (though maybe that’s due to the movies in recent times).   

Video games undoubtedly are a collectible now - just like coins, toys, comics, and even old advertising.  For example, even the video game advertisements ripped from magazines have value these days.  This is also true of strategy guides, instruction booklets, and store demo items.  And when you look at collectible card games like Magic: The Gathering, the pricing of comics and games seems very modest by comparison.  There will certainly be ups and downs, but I don’t believe there will be a pricing crash.  You will have people move on with their lives and sell off their collection.  But you won’t see the flood of games back into the market that some people think is coming and you will see a steady rise in price over the years and decades that follow.

[my-queer-collection]

Comic: Runaways

The Skrulls are invading and The Runaways and the Young Avengers both have a Skrull on their team. Coincidence? We think not! Your two favorite teen teams come together again as the Marvel Universe is pushed to the brink!

Title: Secret Invasion: Runaways/Young Avengers

Artist: Takeshi Miyazawa

Writer: Christopher Yost

Publisher: Marvel

Format: Digital

Steam Level: Not Steamy

Status: Complete

Volume: https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B010E1TGTA/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_b1tJFbE9SF5W2

So So

I really don’t have feelings about this one way or another. You will need to read a Wikipedia article to understand what is going on. You can skip this in all honesty, it doesn’t add to the main storyline at all. The art is nice though.

About Secret Invasion: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Secret_Invasion

The Runaways, a group of friends whose parents were all super-powered villains, must protect one of their own when soldiers from Karolina's home planet accuse her of genocide and plan to capture her for punishment.

Title: Runaways (9-10)

Artist: Humberto Ramos (9), Takeshi Miyazawa (10)

Writer: Terry Moore

Publisher: Marvel

Format: Digital/Print

Steam Level: Not Steamy

Status: Complete

Volume 9: https://smile.amazon.com/dp/0785141197/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_NOtJFb79BBYZ1

Volume 10: https://smile.amazon.com/dp/1302909118/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_NKtJFb3W03WFR

Skip

I wanted to like this. I had heard so many people say that they adore Terry Moore and was excited to read something by him, which makes this doubly disappointing. I’m used to far out, wacky, odd comic stories but this was just too much. I did not like this story at all and the art isn’t any better. In fact, you can tell when a different artist was drawing because they drew Xavin as female in some issues and male in others (pictured below.) This really ticked me off since they established in the last volume that Xavin mostly thinks and present themselves as female. The only thing you need to know about these volumes to read the reboot is Xavin leaves. Which was total bullshit and felt like it was done for the drama and not because story wise it makes sense or was time for that character to go. Ugh. So disappointing.

Unable to forget the lives and people they have lost, the Runaways confront another challenge in the form of a mysterious aircraft that crashes into their Malibu home, drawing the military and an ominous figure from their past, in a collection that includes Runaways Volume 3 Issues 11-14 and What If the Runaways Became the Young Avengers?

Title: Runaways (11)

Artist: Sara Pichelli

Writer: Kathryn Immonem

Publisher: Marvel

Format: Digital/Print

Steam Level: Not Steamy

Status: Complete (Kinda)

Volume: https://smile.amazon.com/dp/0785140395/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_ZVtJFbSM8T31H

Skip

I HATED THIS VOLUME. They made them gritty and jettisoned a lot of their appeal. What little of the storyline we saw was bad and the art as well. I can’t think of anything redeeming about this. I don’t even suggest reading it if you’re all about reading everything Runaways. You don’t need anything from this volume to enjoy the reboot and I’m still annoyed I spent money on it. The reason I put kinda after the complete is that the series was cancelled after this volume. So the story isn’t complete but there will be no more of this. As a Runaways fan, if I had been reading this as it came out, I would have been happy it was cancelled. This is just bad.

The best and brightest teens from all corners of Battleworld are chosen to attend a prestigious school on the planet's capital! But what does the new class do when they discover the school's beloved headmaster is actually a diabolical super villain? RUN AWAY! A SECRET WARS story like none other from the remarkable minds of Noelle Stevenson (Lumberjanes) and Sanford Greene (UNCANNY AVENGERS)!

Title: Runaways: Battleworld

Artist: Adrian Alphona

Writer: Noelle Stevenson & Brian K. Vaughan

Publisher: Marvel

Format: Digital/Print

Steam Level: Not Steamy

Status: Complete

Volume: https://smile.amazon.com/dp/0785198822/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_d3tJFbFGJ80Q2

So So

The only reason I’m including this is because I know people are going to see the Runaways part of the title and pick it up. So up front, our favorite gay baby, Karolina Dean, isn’t in this, only Molly. Yup, the only Runaway is Molly, no one else. The story isn’t bad, but you’ll need to read up on this Battleworld to get an idea on what’s going on. The art isn’t okay. You definitely don’t have to read this to enjoy the reboot. This is basically an AU.

To read up on Battleworld: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battleworld

Written by New York Times best-selling author Christopher Golden, Runaways: An Original Novel is a fresh take on the Marvel fan favorite. Including the first issue of the revived Runaways comic series written by Rainbow Rowell and with art by Kris Anka, it's easy for fans of the comics, fans of the new Hulu TV show, and first-time readers to all enjoy this new take on an old classic.

Turns out murderous Super Villains don't make for good parents. The Runaways had no choice. They had to kill them. Well, more or less. Now Nico, Karolina, Gert, Chase, and Molly are on the run again, hiding out and trying to regain a sense of normalcy. But kids with super powers don't get to be normal.

The city is overrun with criminals, each faction bent on murdering them for one reason or another. It's only when the Runaways uncover the truth behind their parents' past that they realize the evil isn't just in L.A.

It's everywhere.

Title: Runaways: An Original Novel

Author: Christopher Golden

Format: Digital/Print

Status: Stand Alone

Book: https://smile.amazon.com/dp/1484782011/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_APtJFb9Z1A1B7

I have not read this so I can’t say if it’s any good or not. But it exists and has Karolina Dean in it. I do plan to read it in the future