#Tags - small scale industries

[wurdulac]

i loved playing roadwarden...

[laxmienterprises]

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[yukipri]

Some thoughts on Cara

So some of you may have heard about Cara, the new platform that a lot of artists are trying out. It's been around for a while, but there's been a recent huge surge of new users, myself among them. Thought I'd type up a lil thing on my initial thoughts.

First, what is Cara?

From their About Cara page:

Cara is a social media and portfolio platform for artists. With the widespread use of generative AI, we decided to build a place that filters out generative AI images so that people who want to find authentic creatives and artwork can do so easily. Many platforms currently accept AI art when it’s not ethical, while others have promised “no AI forever” policies without consideration for the scenario where adoption of such technologies may happen at the workplace in the coming years. The future of creative industries requires nuanced understanding and support to help artists and companies connect and work together. We want to bridge the gap and build a platform that we would enjoy using as creatives ourselves. Our stance on AI: ・We do not agree with generative AI tools in their current unethical form, and we won’t host AI-generated portfolios unless the rampant ethical and data privacy issues around datasets are resolved via regulation. ・In the event that legislation is passed to clearly protect artists, we believe that AI-generated content should always be clearly labeled, because the public should always be able to search for human-made art and media easily.

Should note that Cara is independently funded, and is made by a core group of artists and engineers and is even collaborating with the Glaze project. It's very much a platform by artists, for artists!

Should also mention that in being a platform for artists, it's more a gallery first, with social media functionalities on the side. The info below will hopefully explain how that works.

Next, my actual initial thoughts using it, and things that set it apart from other platforms I've used:

1) When you post, you can choose to check the portfolio option, or to NOT check it. This is fantastic because it means I can have just my art organized in my gallery, but I can still post random stuff like photos of my cats and it won't clutter things. You can also just ramble/text post and it won't affect the gallery view!

2) You can adjust your crop preview for your images. Such a simple thing, yet so darn nice.

3) When you check that "Add to portfolio," you get a bunch of additional optional fields: Title, Field/Medium, Project Type, Category Tags, and Software Used. It's nice that you can put all this info into organized fields that don't take up text space.

4) Speaking of text, 5000 character limit is niiiiice. If you want to talk, you can.

5) Two separate feeds, a "For You" algorithmic one, and "Following." The "Following" actually appears to be full chronological timeline of just folks you follow (like Tumblr). Amazing.

6) Now usually, "For You" being set to home/default kinda pisses me off because generally I like curating my own experience, but not here, for this handy reason: if you tap the gear symbol, you can ADJUST your algorithm feed!

So you can choose what you see still!!! AMAZING. And, again, you still have your Following timeline too.

7) To repeat the stuff at the top of this post, its creation and intent as a place by artists, for artists. Hopefully you can also see from the points above that it's been designed with artists in mind.

8) No GenAI images!!!! There's a pop up that says it's not allowed, and apparently there's some sort of detector thing too. Not sure how reliable the latter is, but so far, it's just been a breath of fresh air, being able to scroll and see human art art and art!

To be clear, Cara's not perfect and is currently pretty laggy, and you can get errors while posting (so far, I've had more success on desktop than the mobile app), but that's understandable, given the small team. They'll need time to scale. For me though, it's a fair tradeoff for a platform that actually cares about artists.

Currently it also doesn't allow NSFW, not sure if that'll change given app store rules.

As mentioned above, they're independently funded, which means the team is currently paying for Cara itself. They have a kofi set up for folks who want to chip in, but it's optional. Here's the link to the tweet from one of the founders:

And a reminder that no matter that the platform itself isn't selling our data to GenAI, it can still be scraped by third parties. Protect your work with Glaze and Nightshade!

Anyway, I'm still figuring stuff out and have only been on Cara a few days, but I feel hopeful, and I think they're off to a good start.

I hope this post has been informative!

Lastly, here's my own Cara if you want to come say hi! Not sure at all if I'll be active on there, but if you're an artist like me who is keeping an eye out for hopefully nice communities, check it out!

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ Chapter Eight: A Great Friend

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 11.5k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Your day immediately turns eventful at the very second you open your eyes, receiving a congratulatory message from Hongjoong which was apparently because of your sudden popularity that skyrocketed overnight, following your first photoshoot. As you grapple with this sudden surge of attention, Seonghwa offers a welcome distraction by suggesting you assist Hongjoong with his designs for the upcoming autumn collection, all of which are still in progress.

a/n: apologies in advance, but it should probably be in your best interest to expect slow updates starting from now on 🥲 i’ve been getting busier and busier lately so it might take a little while to upload the following chapters ㅠㅠ lmk what you think about this chapter! reading people’s feedback cheers me up a lot, and i’d really appreciate them especially rn since i’m having a hard time haha

tags: @beabatiny

You awaken to the soft chime of a message notification, the early morning light casting a gentle glow in your room. Blinking away sleep, you reach for your phone on the bedside table, the screen glowing softly in the dim light. The message is from Hongjoong, and your heart skips a beat as you read it.

Seems like you got a good head start in the industry. Congratulations!

Confused, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to make sense of his words. You quickly type back, asking him what was going on, as you had just woken up. Hongjoong’s response comes swiftly.

The pictures from your first photoshoot were uploaded last night and they’re currently going viral.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you hurriedly exit the conversation to check the social media platforms associated with Hongjoong’s brand. The notifications are overwhelming. As you scroll through the posts, your face appears repeatedly—each shot capturing a different angle of the Parisian venue, each pose more captivating than the last. The comments are a flurry of excitement and admiration. Each one is a testament to the impact the photos have had.

“Who is this stunning new face?”

“She looks like she stepped out of a painting!”

“Her expression is so captivating; I can’t stop looking!”

“Such a refreshing presence, she’s going to be huge!”

“She exudes this ethereal vibe—like a modern-day muse!”

If there was one thing you were expecting the moment you stepped into the industry, it was definitely not this. Well, you probably should’ve. Your hands tremble slightly as you continue scrolling, unable to fully grasp the scale of the attention. It’s surreal to see yourself through the eyes of so many strangers, each comment adding another layer to the overwhelming reality.

A hand ghosts over your mouth in shock, trying to stifle the gasp that escapes. “Is this real?” you whisper to yourself, the room around you suddenly feeling too small, too quiet compared to the roaring storm of notifications and messages on your phone.

Rushing to the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face, the chill jolting you awake. You even slap your cheeks lightly a few times, trying to dispel the surreal feeling that’s settled over you. The mirror reflects your wide-eyed expression, confirming that this is, in fact, happening. You stare at your reflection, the reality of your newfound attention slowly sinking in. It feels like stepping into another world, one where your life has suddenly taken a dramatic turn.

Still in a daze, you return to your bed, clutching your phone tightly. You reopen the conversation with Hongjoong, asking him if any of this was real. You could’ve just been having a highly realistic dream, for all you know. On the other side of the screen, Hongjoong can almost sense your disbelief.

As real as it can be.

But even through the text, you sense a smile, a quiet confidence in his words. Just as you’re beginning to process everything, your phone rings again. It's Seonghwa. His voice is warm, laced with a hint of amusement as he says, “You’re quite the hit lately. Have you heard of it?”

You let out a small laugh, still overwhelmed. “Yes, Hongjoong actually beat you to it.”

There’s a brief pause, and Seonghwa’s voice becomes thoughtful. “Hongjoong texted you first? That’s... unusual.”

“Huh?”

Seonghwa’s mind lingers on this revelation. Hongjoong, known for his reserved nature, seldom initiates contact with others. He was the type to keep his thoughts to himself, preferring the solitude of his creative processes. For him to reach out so directly is… well, it’s unexpected. He wonders if there’s more to this than meets the eye, but he quickly shakes off the thought, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

He continues, his tone lightening again, “Nevermind that. But seriously, congratulations! This is huge.”

You sigh, a mixture of happiness and anxiety bubbling up. “I still can’t believe all of this is real. It feels like things are progressing too quickly, and while I’m happy, there’s this overwhelming feeling somewhere deep inside.”

Seonghwa’s voice softens with empathy. “It’s completely normal to feel that way, especially since this all came out of nowhere. It can be a lot to take in at once.”

You nod, though he can’t see you, and explain your usual method of coping with major news—pushing it aside until you’re ready to fully process it. “So… what I’m saying is I kinda need to put that method to use right now. Is there anything I can help with over there? I need something to focus on, just to distract myself.”

Seonghwa thinks for a moment, considering your offer. “Well, you could help bring some of Hongjoong’s designs to life. Unfortunately, he rarely accepts help, preferring to work alone because it helps him focus. But I’ll mention it to him and see what he says.”

Seonghwa hangs up the phone, placing it gently on the table in front of him. The lounge area of the building is quiet, save for the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional clink of cups. He leans back in his chair, lost in thought about the conversation he just had with you. Just then, as if on cue, Hongjoong strolls into the lounge, his presence commanding a subtle shift in the room's atmosphere. He spots Seonghwa and heads over, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Things are turning out well for her, aren’t they?” Hongjoong remarks, settling into the lounge chair across Seonghwa. His tone carries a hint of pride, and Seonghwa can see a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

Seonghwa, remembering something from the call, tilts his head slightly. “You know, she mentioned you were the first to tell her about all the attention she’s getting. That’s... not exactly your usual style.”

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “What do you mean? I just wanted to congratulate her, that’s all.”

Seonghwa isn’t convinced and leans forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “You don’t even text first when it comes to both me and Wooyoung. What’s the deal?”

Hongjoong chuckles, shaking his head as if dismissing the notion. “It’s nothing. Just thought she should know.”

But Seonghwa isn’t buying the nonchalant act. His eyes narrow playfully, clearly intrigued by this rare deviation from Hongjoong’s usual behavior. Hongjoong, noticing the look, quickly grabs a crumpled paper from his blazer pocket and tosses it at Seonghwa, laughing. “Stop reading too much into it. There’s nothing there.”

Seonghwa catches the paper, laughing as well despite not being entirely convinced. He decides to change the subject, leaning back in his chair. “So, how are the designs for the autumn collection coming along?”

Hongjoong’s eyes light up at the mention of his work. “I’ve been making good progress with the tailoring and even started on some new designs. Though I left my sketchbook in my office today, I’ve got some photos of the pieces.”

He leans forward, pulling out his phone and handing it to Seonghwa. As Seonghwa scrolls through the images, he’s greeted with a series of designs that reflect the collection’s theme. The first few designs are ethereal yet grounded, capturing the essence of the season. There’s a long, flowing coat made of rich, burnt orange wool, adorned with delicate embroidery of falling leaves. The next outfit is a layered ensemble featuring a deep forest green velvet dress, cinched at the waist with a leather belt, and paired with a capelet that mimics the texture of fallen leaves.

Each piece exudes a sense of elegance and warmth, perfectly encapsulating the quiet beauty of autumn. The use of earthy tones, mixed with subtle metallic accents, creates a harmonious blend of nature-inspired elements and modern fashion. Seonghwa can see the meticulous attention to detail in every stitch and fold, each piece a testament to Hongjoong’s artistic vision. It was admirable, as always.

As he continues scrolling, Seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly when he stumbles upon an unexpected photo—a candid shot of you holding a cat, your face soft with a serene smile. It’s a stark contrast to the fashion designs, capturing a moment of unguarded warmth and simplicity. Seonghwa’s mind raced with questions, his curiosity piqued even further. Why does Hongjoong have this photo, and what does it signify?

Quickly, he scrolls back to the fashion designs, masking his surprise. He hands the phone back to Hongjoong, his expression composed but his thoughts swirling. “These are incredible, Hongjoong. The way you’ve captured the essence of autumn is truly impressive. I especially like the use of textures and the color palette—it feels very grounded yet still has that ethereal quality.”

Hongjoong nods, pleased with the feedback. “Thanks, I’ve been working on capturing that balance. Autumn has this quiet, reflective beauty, and I wanted that to come through in the designs.”

Seonghwa nods thoughtfully, but his mind lingers on the photo he saw. He can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on between you and Hongjoong, something beneath the surface that he hasn’t yet understood. As he hands the phone back, he decides to keep this little discovery to himself, at least for now, storing it away as something to discuss with Wooyoung later.

Clearing his throat, Seonghwa leans forward, his tone thoughtful. “You know, I was talking to her earlier, and she mentioned feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the sudden exposure. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, especially someone so new to the industry. She was wondering if there might be any way she could help with the tailoring of the designs. Not only to get some practical experience but also to have something to focus on, something to keep her grounded while everything else is so chaotic.”

Hongjoong listens intently, his expression contemplative. Seonghwa continues, “I know you usually prefer to work alone, to have complete control over your creative process. And I get that—it’s part of what makes your designs so unique. But maybe just this once, it could be beneficial to have an extra pair of hands. She’s genuinely interested in learning and contributing, and I think it could be a good experience for both of you.”

As Seonghwa speaks, he watches Hongjoong closely, trying to gauge his reaction. Before he can elaborate further, Hongjoong cuts him off with a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind at all. We can start tomorrow.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. That was a quick agreement, far quicker than he expected. “Good, alright. I’ll inform her,” Seonghwa says, still processing Hongjoong’s easy acquiescence. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, almost tentatively, “Or do you want to do it instead...?”

Hongjoong’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Seonghwa quickly waves him off, standing up from his seat. “Oh, no, no, nothing. I’ll let her know.” He makes a quick exit, leaving a bewildered Hongjoong behind, still puzzled over the odd exchange.

As Seonghwa strides towards the elevator, the gears in his mind are turning. The ease with which Hongjoong agreed to your involvement, coupled with the candid photo and the early morning text, is starting to form a pattern in Seonghwa’s mind—a pattern that suggests something more than just professional interest.

As the elevator doors open, Seonghwa is met by Wooyoung, who looks ready to step out. Without a second thought, Seonghwa gently but firmly shoves Wooyoung back inside, pressing the button for the floor where his office is located.

“What the hell—” Wooyoung begins, startled by the abruptness of Seonghwa's actions.

Seonghwa cuts him off, a serious look on his face. “There’s something important we need to discuss. Just trust me.”

Wooyoung, sensing the gravity in Seonghwa’s tone, complies without further protest. As they reach Seonghwa’s office, Seonghwa gestures for Wooyoung to double-check the lock on the door, ensuring their privacy. “Just in case Hongjoong walks in.”

Wooyoung complies, yet thete was a puzzled look on his face. “Hongjoong? What does he have to do with this?”

They settled into Seonghwa’s office, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. Seonghwa starts, his tone hushed. “Alright, so get this: Hongjoong texted her first thing this morning to congratulate her on the viral photos. Can you believe that?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way! Hongjoong? Mr. ‘I-Don’t-Do-Small-Talk’? Like, for real?”

Seonghwa nods, his expression mirroring Wooyoung’s shock. “For real. And it gets better. He even had a candid photo of her on his phone. You know, not a posed shot or anything, just her holding a cat. She looked so natural and relaxed. I accidentally saw it while scrolling through his design pictures.”

Wooyoung leans forward, clearly intrigued. “A candid photo? From Hongjoong? That’s... well, I definitely didn’t see that coming. What else did you see?” he asked, pushing for more details.

Seonghwa goes into a contemplative gaze. “That’s the thing, Wooyoung. He never keeps personal photos like that. And then, when I mentioned her feeling overwhelmed by all the attention, he was totally understanding. And, get this, he agreed to let her help with the tailoring for his autumn collection without even hesitating.”

Wooyoung's eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa, hold on. Doesn’t he literally hate people interfering with his work? What do you mean he agreed just like that?”

Seonghwa holds his hands up, still a bit in disbelief himself. “That’s what I don’t get either. No arguments, no reservations. Just ‘sure, she can start tomorrow.’ It’s so out of character for him. Usually, he’s all about keeping things strictly professional and handling everything himself.”

Wooyoung leans back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So, let me get this straight. Hongjoong, who never texts first, texts her before anyone else. He’s got a candid, personal photo of her on his phone. And now, he’s okay with her helping out with his designs? That’s…”

Seonghwa nods. “Exactly. And when I asked him about texting her, he brushed it off, saying he just wanted to congratulate her. But I know Hongjoong. He doesn’t do things like this for just anyone. Hell, he doesn’t even text us first, and we've known him for years.”

Wooyoung grins, clearly entertained. “So, what do you think? Is he interested in her? It sure sounds like it.” This was definitely worth the gossip drought that lasted for weeks.

Seonghwa shrugs, though his eyes gleam with curiosity. “I don’t know, but it’s definitely out of the ordinary. I mean, Hongjoong’s not one to show personal interest in anyone, let alone a model he just met.”

Wooyoung clasps his hands together, shaking his head. “This is going to be interesting. We should keep an eye on this. Maybe they’re just friends, or maybe there’s something more. Either way, it’s unusual for Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchange a knowing glance, an idea slowly taking root in Wooyoung's mind. He leans forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You know,” Wooyoung begins, “we could give them a little nudge. Like, play matchmaker. It could be fun.”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, hesitating. “We shouldn’t make things awkward between them. What if they’re just forming a friendship? We don’t want to overstep.”

Wooyoung waves off the concern, his enthusiasm undeterred. “I get that, but think about it. Most great love stories start with friendship, right? They’re already getting along well, and there’s clearly something different about how Hongjoong is acting lately. Maybe it’s worth exploring.”

Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head with a faint smile. “You’re incorrigible, you know that? But I suppose you have a point. It’s just... Hongjoong’s been very private about his personal life. We shouldn’t push him into something he’s not ready for.”

Wooyoung nods thoughtfully. “Well, yeah, but he’s been alone for as long as I’ve known him. He’s always so independent and hardworking, constantly putting the company and his designs first. Wouldn’t it be nice for him to have someone who reminds him to take a breather, to enjoy life a little?”

Seonghwa looks away, pondering Wooyoung’s words. He knows that Hongjoong is fiercely dedicated to his work, often to the point of neglecting his own well-being. It’s a quality they all admire, but it also worries them. Hongjoong’s solitary nature, while admirable in its focus, sometimes seemed to be a shield against something deeper.

At the same time, a part of Seonghwa agrees with Wooyoung. Hongjoong deserves to experience love, to be taught what it means to love and be loved in return. To have someone who sees past the professional facade and connects with him on a deeper level. Hongjoong has always been the rock for everyone else, the leader who guides and supports, but who supports him? Seonghwa knows that beneath Hongjoong’s calm exterior is someone who longs for a connection, even if he doesn’t consciously acknowledge it.

Seonghwa finally exhales, nodding in agreement. “Alright, maybe you’re right. He does deserve that chance. But we need to be subtle, okay? We can’t just throw them into situations and expect magic to happen.”

Wooyoung grins, practically bouncing in his seat. “Of course, of course. We’ll be subtle. Well, as subtle as we can be.” He chuckles, already plotting. “We could start with simple things. Like arranging for them to spend more time together, under the guise of work, of course.”

Seonghwa nods, though he can’t help but smile at Wooyoung’s eagerness. „Fine, but let’s keep this quiet. The last thing we need is Hongjoong finding out and feeling pressured or uncomfortable. We’ll just... create opportunities for them to bond naturally?”

Wooyoung’s eyes light up with excitement. “Yes, exactly! This is going to be great. Just trust me on this one.”

Seonghwa sighs, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Alright, but no wild schemes, okay? We’re not in a rom-com here.”

Wooyoung laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No wild schemes.”

—

The sound of fabric being meticulously fed through the sewing machine filled the room, but despite the soft hum, your mind was anything but calm. The task at hand was supposed to be a distraction from the whirlwind of unexpected fame and the gnawing anxiety about potential backlash—something that often follows a sudden rise to internet prominence. However, the complexities of threading needles and manipulating fabrics were proving to be more challenging than anticipated. You couldn’t help but think that perhaps this was a bad idea, a sentiment only reinforced by the knots of frustration building in your stomach.

Hongjoong had stepped out to go to the restroom for a moment, giving you a brief respite. It was just enough time to let out a sigh of frustration, your hands pausing their clumsy movements. You were aware of how out of your depth you were, fumbling with the sewing machine in a way that likely confirmed his suspicions. He had asked several times if you needed help, always with a gentle tone that hinted at his concern. But pride—or perhaps a stubborn streak—had kept you from admitting just how lost you felt.

“Maybe I should’ve just volunteered to be burned at the stake in a Salem witch trial—”

“Are you alright?” Hongjoong’s voice sliced through your musings, making you jump slightly. You straightened up quickly, feigning concentration as you adjusted the fabric under the needle. The effort was futile; the moment Hongjoong leaned over your shoulder, his hand resting gently on yours, your cool façade crumbled.

His close proximity, the soft warmth of his hand, and the subtle, intoxicating scent of his cologne were all too distracting. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I’m gonna need you to answer it in full honesty. Is that okay?”

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting from his hand to his face and then back to the sewing machine. “I... um... sure, go ahead,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice at bay.

“Do you know how to use a sewing machine?” he asked, his tone patient yet direct.

You winced, slumping in your seat as you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. “I thought it would be easy,” you admitted, your voice muffled by your palms. “But I had no idea it would be so... intricate? I think I’ve used up half my patience already.”

Before you could spiral further into self-recrimination, Hongjoong’s soft laughter broke the tension. It was a soothing sound, yet its proximity sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. He pulled a chair over and sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. You kept your eyes fixed on the sewing machine, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently, taking your hand in his once more. “Everyone starts somewhere. Let me guide you through it.”

“Alright, let’s start with the basics,” he began, his voice warm and steady. “First, we need to thread the machine properly. It can be a bit tricky at first, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes second nature.”

He gently guided your fingers to the spool pin, showing you how to place the thread. “Make sure the thread is placed securely here,” he explained, his hand lingering over yours for a moment. “Then, we’ll pull it through the tension disks. This part is crucial because it controls the tension of your stitches. If it’s too loose or too tight, your fabric might bunch up or the stitches might break.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his instructions rather than the slight warmth of his hand. “Got it,” you murmured, glancing at him again. His eyes were intent on the machine, but there was a softness in his gaze.

“Next, we bring the thread down here,” he continued, guiding your hand to the take-up lever. “This part moves up and down as you sew, pulling the thread through the fabric. It’s important to make sure the thread is seated properly in the eye of the lever.”

You tried to mimic his movements, your fingers fumbling slightly. He caught your hesitation and gently corrected your grip, his touch light but firm. “Like this,” he demonstrated, pulling the thread through the lever with practiced ease. “See? It’s all about smooth, even motions.”

You nodded again, feeling a bit more confident but still acutely aware of the slight tension in the air. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... different. “And finally, we guide the thread through the needle,” he said, his voice low and patient. “This part can be a bit tricky, especially if the needle’s eye is small. Just take your time and don’t rush.”

As you attempted to thread the needle, your hand shook slightly, and you fumbled with the delicate thread. Hongjoong leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he steadied your hand. “Here, let me help,” he offered, his tone gentle. He carefully guided the thread through the needle’s eye, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

“There we go,” he said with a satisfied smile, leaning back a bit. “Now, let’s get to the sewing part. Start by placing the fabric under the presser foot, like this.” He demonstrated, his hands guiding yours to position the fabric correctly. “Make sure it’s aligned straight with the needle and the edge of the foot.”

You followed his instructions, your eyes focused on the machine but your mind wandering slightly. There was something about this whole situation—the quiet focus, the close proximity, the shared task—that felt nice. You couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of self-consciousness, wondering if he could sense your awkwardness.

“Now, gently press the pedal to start the machine,” Hongjoong instructed, his hand still lightly resting on yours. “Don’t go too fast; just a slow, steady pace. That’ll give you more control.”

You did as he said, the machine whirring to life as you guided the fabric through. Hongjoong watched closely, offering occasional tips and corrections. “Try to keep your hands steady,” he advised. “And remember, it’s okay to stop and readjust if you need to.”

“Okay, got it,” you replied, focusing intently on the fabric and the machine’s needle. But despite your best efforts, you could feel your heart beating a little faster, your palms slightly sweaty. It was all so new, and the added pressure of having Hongjoong right there, guiding you, was both comforting and nerve-wracking.

As you continued to sew, the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. Hongjoong’s instructions were clear and patient, and his occasional praise—“Good, that’s perfect,” or “You’re getting the hang of it”—helped to ease your nerves. Still, there were moments when you couldn’t help but feel a slight, almost imperceptible tension. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a subtle awareness of his presence, of the closeness between you as he guided your hands and offered gentle encouragement.

After a few more passes, he smiled at you, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “You’re doing really well,” he said, giving your hand a light squeeze before releasing it. “Just keep practicing, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

You smiled back, feeling a mix of relief and a strange, fluttering excitement. “Thanks, Hongjoong,” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. “I really appreciate your help.”

As you continued to practice, the room was filled with a quiet focus, the sound of the sewing machine blending with the soft rustle of fabrics and the occasional tap of Hongjoong’s fingers on the table as he worked on his designs. The space was filled with mannequins adorned with various pieces in different stages of completion, each a testament to his creativity and skill.

Hongjoong stood by one of the mannequins, testing out different fabrics and adjusting the drape of a garment. It was a half-finished piece, a beautiful autumn-inspired dress, rich with deep, warm hues and delicate detailing. The design was stunning even in its incomplete state, with layers of fabric cascading down in elegant folds. The room, spacious and filled with natural light, was a perfect backdrop for his work, highlighting the textures and colors of his creations.

As you worked, you found yourself unconsciously humming. It was a habit you’d developed over the years, a way to keep yourself company during moments of concentration. The tune was “La Vie en Rose,” a classic melody that had always been a favorite of yours. Lost in the rhythm of your work, you didn’t notice Hongjoong glancing over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he recognized the song.

The peaceful atmosphere continued until you completed your practice piece, checking the fabric carefully. To your delight, it was flawless, and you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of triumph. You looked up, catching Hongjoong’s eye as he turned towards you, clearly curious about your reaction.

“I think I’m ready to help out,” you announced, holding up the fabric proudly.

Hongjoong smiled, a warm and encouraging expression on his face. “Really? Let's get to work, then.”

You quickly tidied up your workspace, eager to join him. As you approached, you got a closer look at the dress he was working on. It was even more beautiful up close, with detailed stitching and a careful blend of textures. The design was both modern and timeless, capturing the essence of autumn with its rich color palette and sophisticated lines.

On the table next to the mannequin, you noticed Hongjoong’s sketchbook. The sketches inside were detailed and precise, showcasing his vision for the final piece. You couldn’t help but compliment him, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “This looks incredible, Hongjoong. The sketches were already amazing, but seeing it come to life... It’s even better.”

He waved off your praise modestly, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s not even halfway done yet,” he said, glancing at the dress. “There’s still a lot of work to do. That’s where your help comes in.”

He gestured towards the dress, explaining his vision for the piece. “I need to work on the intricate details around the neckline and sleeves. There’s a specific embroidery pattern I want to incorporate, but it requires a steady hand and a lot of patience. I thought we could split the tasks—I’ll focus on the main body of the dress, and you can help with the embroidery.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “I’d love to help with the embroidery. It sounds like a challenge, but I’m up for it.”

Hongjoong smiled, clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. “Great. I’ll show you the pattern and we can go over the details together. It’s important to get the proportions and spacing just right, especially since the embroidery will be a key feature of the design.”

“For this part,” he said, pointing to a section on the sketch, “we’ll use a simple running stitch to outline the design. It’s straightforward but effective, especially for creating clean lines. The trick is to keep your stitches consistent in length. If they’re too short or too long, it can throw off the balance of the pattern.”

As he demonstrated, you watched closely, noting the way his fingers moved deftly with the needle and thread. His attention to detail was impressive, and it was clear that every element of the design had been carefully considered.

“Next, we’ll add some texture with a chain stitch,” Hongjoong continued, switching to another part of the design. “It’s great for creating a sense of depth and can really make certain areas pop. You’ll want to keep your tension even, not too tight or too loose, so the stitches sit nicely against the fabric.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but notice the passion in his eyes. It was evident in the way he talked about each technique, his dedication to his craft shining through. There was something incredibly admirable about his focus and commitment, and it made you feel even more determined to do your best.

Once you both began working, the conversation naturally shifted to lighter topics. Hongjoong broke the comfortable silence first, glancing over at you with a curious expression. “By the way, earlier... you were humming a song. Was it ‘La Vie en Rose’?”

You blinked, momentarily confused. You hadn’t even realized you were humming. “Oh, was I…? Yeah, that’s a favorite of mine,” you admitted with a small chuckle, recalling the familiar melody. “My dad used to play it all the time when I was younger. He had this old recorder, and ‘La Vie en Rose’ was always his go-to song. I guess it just stuck with me.”

Hongjoong listened attentively, a soft smile forming on his lips. “It’s a beautiful song. There’s something timeless about it.”

You nodded, feeling a warm nostalgia wash over you. “Yeah, it’s one of those songs that just... helps me focus. I hum it when I’m trying to concentrate, and sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”

As you shared your story, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you, a subtle fondness in his eyes. He seemed genuinely interested, as if he enjoyed hearing about these little aspects of your life. When you looked up from your work, catching his eye, he quickly averted his gaze, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

You smiled, amused by the small moment of shyness. “Do you have a favorite artist?”

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up at the question. “David Bowie,” he replied without hesitation.

“Really? Great choice,” you said, your admiration clear in your tone. “How did you get into his music?”

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, reminiscing. “Back in my school days, a friend of mine always shared their earphones with me. They had a playlist full of David Bowie songs, and I just... got hooked. His music was so different from anything else I’d heard at the time.”

“Was it Seonghwa?” you asked, curious.

Hongjoong shook his head, a faint, nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “No, it was someone else. We’ve… lost touch over the years.”

Before you could ask more, your phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with a notification from an app you rarely used. Hongjoong glanced at the screen and recognized the image on your lockscreen. “You set that as your wallpaper?” he asked, a note of amusement in his voice as he saw the candid photo he had taken of you and the cat.

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist. It’s just too cute not to use as my lockscreen.”

Hongjoong chuckled, clearly pleased. “How’s the little guy doing?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” you replied with a grin. “Running away from me and munching on the flowers in our landlord’s garden. He’s a real troublemaker.”

Hongjoong laughed at this, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s hard to imagine him being so mischievous. He looked so sweet and innocent when I saw him.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Maybe you should come by again sometime and see for yourself just how mischievous he can be.”

Hongjoong paused, momentarily caught off guard. Was that an invitation? The way you said it, with a casual laugh, made it seem like a harmless joke. But there was a part of him that wondered if there was more to it. He quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

As you continued working on the embroidery, a sudden sharp pain shot through your finger. A fairly large needle had slipped through your grasp, piercing your skin and drawing a bead of blood. You hissed in pain, “Ow!”

Hongjoong immediately turned his attention away from the dress, concern etched across his face as he took a few quick steps toward you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft yet filled with urgency. “Let me see your hand.”

You extended your injured hand toward him, wincing as you saw the small but painful wound. Hongjoong frowned, setting your hand gently on the table. “Hold on a moment,” he said, heading over to one of the drawers where he kept a first aid kit. He quickly retrieved the necessary supplies, including antiseptic wipes, a bandage, and some ointment.

Returning to your side, he crouched down to be at eye level with you. When you made a move to stand, thinking you should let him take the seat, he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, guiding you to sit back down. “Stay put,” he instructed softly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he focused on your injured finger.

Hongjoong took your hand with a surprising tenderness, carefully cleaning the wound. “You’ve got to be more careful next time, alright?” he said, his tone gentle yet firm.

You nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” He looked up at you and smiled, a small, reassuring curve of his lips that made your heart flutter unexpectedly. He then returned his focus to your finger, diligently applying ointment and wrapping it with a bandage.

As he worked, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on his face. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the soft lines of his features... It struck you how effortlessly handsome he was, even in such a simple moment. You found yourself thinking that models must be relieved he chose to become a fashion designer instead of competing with them in front of the camera.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly blurted out, “Your lashes look pretty.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, catching both you and Hongjoong by surprise.

He paused, then chuckled, clearly amused. “No, I mean, sorry,” you quickly tried to recover, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I just have this habit of accidentally saying things out loud that are supposed to stay in my head...”

Hongjoong’s laugh, warm and genuine, cuts off your rambling. “It’s alright,” he said, still chuckling softly. “I’m flattered.”

As he continued tending to your wound, you noticed the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled, and how his presence seemed to have a calming effect on you, even when you felt like you were spiraling. You realized that he had probably picked up on your tendency to speak in a single breath whenever you were nervous or flustered—a trait you found a bit embarrassing, but he seemed to find endearing. It’s a little strange.

“Tell you what,” Hongjoong began, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked up at you. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll share one of my unsaid thoughts too.”

You tilted your head, intrigued and a little wary. “I’d appreciate that,” you said, though you weren’t sure what to expect.

Hongjoong smiled, finishing up the bandage on your finger. “I think you look pretty.”

The words hit you like a gentle wave, unexpected yet disarming. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. Did he… did he really just call you pretty? Your mind raced, heart pounding as you tried to find a response. Was he just being nice? Or was there something more to it? Maybe he was joking? Or not, given his sincere gaze? You felt your cheeks heating up again, and you could barely string together a coherent thought.

As you stared at him, wide-eyed and flustered, Hongjoong laughed softly at your reaction. “Sorry,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

You knew from the look in his eyes and the slight smirk on his lips that he definitely meant to say that.

You both returned to your respective tasks, but focusing proved more difficult than before. Your heart raced, and every so often, your thoughts drifted back to Hongjoong’s unexpected compliment. It lingered in your mind, making it hard to concentrate on the delicate stitches you were working on. The realization of why your heart was fluttering was something you preferred to push aside for now, not wanting to dwell on the implications.

Meanwhile, outside the room, hushed whispers filled the corridor, inaudible to you and Hongjoong inside. Wooyoung, eyes wide and a hand covering his mouth, turned to Seonghwa beside him. “So...” he began, trying to process what they had just overheard.

Seonghwa met Wooyoung’s gaze with a similar look of surprise. “No way. Are they really...”

Wooyoung furrowed his brows in contemplation. “But if they were together, wouldn’t she have responded with something flirty? Like, you know, bantering back?”

Seonghwa shook his head, disagreeing. “She’s not that type of person. Not from what I’ve seen.”

Wooyoung pointed out, “Yeah, but when she told him his lashes looked pretty, she started apologizing like crazy. Would she do that if they were dating?”

Seonghwa considered this, then shook his head again. “Uh… no, definitely not. It’s not every day someone apologizes for complimenting their partner.”

“So... what’s the deal with them?” Wooyoung asked, genuinely puzzled.

Seonghwa shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think they’re just friends, but there’s definitely something more simmering beneath the surface. You can feel the chemistry, even from out here.”

Wooyoung nodded, his curiosity piqued. “The awkward tension between them definitely supports your theory. That’s how these things usually start, right?”

He paused, then added with a mischievous grin, “Do we even need to play matchmaker? It feels like they’re figuring it out on their own.”

Seonghwa laughed softly, a sound almost lost in the quiet hallway, but Wooyoung quickly hushed him. “Shh, we can’t let them know we’re here!”

Wooyoung then pondered aloud, “Now that I think about it, they would make a cute couple. Imagine being a model and dating the creative director of the brand you’re working for... It’s like something out of a romance movie.”

Seonghwa nodded in agreement, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s only a matter of time before he starts designing pieces specifically for her, just like he used to—”

Their conversation was abruptly cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps from inside the room. Panicking, Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged wide-eyed looks before quickly scurrying away, eager to avoid getting caught eavesdropping on their friend’s private moment.

Hongjoong spared a glance at both sides of the hall, a confused expression on his face. “I could’ve sworn I heard something from out here…”

—

A couple of weeks passed, and although the internet buzz surrounding you hadn’t entirely died down, you managed to keep yourself distracted from any concerns about potential media backlash. The credit for this went to Hongjoong, who had embraced your offer to assist with his designs. This partnership provided you both with a creative outlet and a much-needed escape from the spotlight.

You stood before the now-completed outfit you had both worked on, admiring the intricate details and the seamless blend of fabrics. “It’s stunning,” you remarked, your voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe how beautiful it turned out.”

Hongjoong smiled warmly at your words, pride evident in his eyes. “You should take some credit too,” he replied. “I genuinely think it wouldn’t have looked this good if I had done it all alone. Your input was invaluable.”

His compliment made you feel shy, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Well, if you ever need a hand in the future, I’d be more than happy to help,” you offered, your voice slightly timid.

“I’d like that,” Hongjoong murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. An idea seemed to cross his mind, and he looked at you with a glint of excitement. “How about I take you out to dinner tonight? You deserve a proper thank you for all your help. It’s not every day someone offers their time and skill like you did, and I’d like to show my appreciation in a way that’s more than just words.”

You started to shake your head, feeling that such a gesture was too much. “Oh, you really don’t have to. It’s nothing, really...”

But Hongjoong was persistent—as he always seemed to be. He smiled reassuringly, his tone firm yet gentle. “Nonsense. You’ve done more than enough to earn a nice evening out. So, let me treat you. I’ll pick you up from your apartment around eight. Just be ready.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his insistence, knowing you wouldn’t win this argument. “Alright, alright,” you conceded. “But I’m not expecting you to take me anywhere high-end.”

Hongjoong’s smile grew a little mischievous. “Maybe I will be,” he teased, refusing to give a clear answer. “Just be ready, and leave the rest to me.”

A part of you wondered if this dinner had been on his mind for a while, but you pushed that thought aside, nodding in agreement. Your phone buzzed with a message from Madame Dupont, urgently informing you that Pompidou was scratching at your apartment door. Your eyes widened, and you quickly told Hongjoong, “Oh no. I’ve got to go. See you tonight!” before rushing out.

Hongjoong watched you leave, a bemused expression on his face. He shrugged lightly and turned back to the outfit on the mannequin, admiring the final product one last time before heading back to his office. When he arrived, he found Wooyoung lounging comfortably in his chair, looking as if he belonged there.

“Sometimes I wonder if this office belongs to you or me,” Hongjoong mused, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

Wooyoung grinned cheekily. “It’s not my fault your office is so comfy. Anyway, are you free tonight? I need someone to go grocery shopping with me,” he whined dramatically. “My fridge is empty, and I feel like I might starve to death.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, maybe next time. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Wooyoung’s curiosity piqued, his eyes narrowing with interest and a mischievous glint in them. “Plans? With who?”

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, knowing where this conversation was headed. “With her,” he finally said, referring to you. “I’m taking her out to dinner to thank her for helping me with the designs.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a playful glint appearing in them. He leaned forward, his expression full of intrigue and mischief, as if he had just discovered the juiciest piece of gossip. “Oh? Really? Just the two of you?” he teased, his voice dripping with implication.

Hongjoong sighed, deadpanning, “I know that look, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a grin spreading across his face. “So, is this a date?” he asked, stretching the last word with a teasing tone.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. “No, it’s not a date. It’s just a dinner to say thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” Wooyoung drawled, clearly not buying it. “You hesitated. You’ve got to admit there’s something there. The way you two have been spending time together...”

Hongjoong shook his head, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re reading too much into it. It’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner?” Wooyoung echoed, disbelief lacing his tone. “You don’t take just anyone to a fancy restaurant, do you? I mean, I can’t remember the last time you took me to a nice place, and I’m practically your best friend.”

“It’s not about the restaurant,” Hongjoong insisted, though he couldn’t help but chuckle at Wooyoung’s theatrics. “It’s about appreciating her help.”

Wooyoung leaned back, crossing his arms with a knowing grin. “Sure, just dinner. But you don’t have to dress up for ‘just dinner,’ do you? Or pick her up personally? It’s almost like... I don’t know, like a date?”

Hongjoong could feel himself being cornered, yet he maintained his stance. “It’s not a date, Wooyoung. It’s a gesture of appreciation. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Wooyoung leaned in closer, his grin widening. “Oh, I see. So, if she shows up looking stunning and you two have a great time, it still won’t be a date?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re dodging the question,” Wooyoung shot back, laughing. “But seriously, it’s great that you’re taking her out. You two would look good together.”

Hongjoong shook his head again, though his smile remained. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Wooyoung grinned. “But hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Well, let everyone think what they want. We’re just friends.”

“For now,” Wooyoung teased, his voice sing-song. “But you know, friends can become more. It’s like a... pre-date.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Pre-date?”

Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Like a test run. You get to see how you feel about it, how she feels about it. It’s perfect! And if it goes well, who knows? Maybe it’ll turn into something more.”

“You’re really reaching here,” Hongjoong said, though he couldn’t help but laugh. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

“Well, someone has to be enthusiastic about your love life,” Wooyoung quipped, grinning. “You’re too busy being all serious and professional.”

Hongjoong shook his head, still smiling. “I think I can manage my own love life, thank you very much.”

“Sure, sure,” Wooyoung replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But just remember, if it turns into a real date, I called it first.”

Hongjoong laughed, finally giving in to the lighthearted teasing. “Fine, you can have the credit if it does. But for now, it’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” Wooyoung repeated, still grinning. “We’ll see about that.”

Hours later, Wooyoung was proven right as he and Seonghwa found themselves in Hongjoong’s penthouse, assisting him in choosing the perfect outfit. The room was filled with various clothing options—jackets, shirts, pants—scattered across the furniture. Hongjoong stood before a full-length mirror, trying on a sleek dark blue suit that accentuated his figure.

“He kept insisting it’s not a date, but look at him now,” Wooyoung whispered to Seonghwa, chuckling as they observed Hongjoong’s meticulous attention to detail. He adjusted his tie, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Maybe he just didn’t want to admit it’s a date because then he’d have to acknowledge it’s the first time he’s taken someone to a fancy restaurant,” Seonghwa whispered back, both of them stifling laughter. The idea that Hongjoong was fussing over an outfit over an occasion he swears isn’t a date was both endearing and amusing.

Hongjoong turned to them, an unamused expression on his face. “Are you two going to help me decide which of these looks more presentable, or are you going to keep gossiping about me even when I’m right in front of you?”

“The latter,” both Wooyoung and Seonghwa replied in unison, causing Hongjoong to roll his eyes with a sigh of resignation.

“Alright, alright, let’s get serious,” Wooyoung said, standing up from the bed. He approached Hongjoong, scrutinizing the suit. The tailored fit and elegant fabric gave off a sophisticated vibe, yet it felt a bit too formal for the occasion. “Maybe something a bit less formal?” Wooyoung suggested, tilting his head in contemplation.

As Seonghwa was about to offer his opinion, his phone buzzed with a message notification. Glancing down, he saw it was from you, containing photos of two different outfits with a message.

Which one looks better?

Seonghwa smiled, knowing you hadn’t mentioned the dinner to him but aware of it nonetheless. You probably thought he was unaware of the plan. He quickly assessed the outfits you sent, noticing that the second—a chic, knee-length dress with elegant detailing—would pair perfectly with one of the outfits Hongjoong had yet to try on. Without revealing his thoughts, he texted back, “Go for the second one,” before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Hongjoong, try on the dark black suit with the silk dress shirt of the same color,” Seonghwa suggested, nodding towards the outfit laid out on the couch. The combination was stylish yet not overly formal, balancing sophistication with a touch of modern flair.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow but complied, heading to the bathroom to change. When he returned, the outfit fit him perfectly, the deep blue contrasting nicely with his complexion and highlighting his eyes. Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged satisfied looks.

Seonghwa walked towards him, undoing the first two buttons. Once he was done, he stepped back and nodded approvingly. “You should wear that one.”

Hongjoong looked puzzled. “Why this one?”

Seonghwa simply smiled, shaking his head. “Just trust me on this one,” he insisted, not revealing that the choice was to complement your outfit.

Meanwhile, you were at home, finishing up your preparations. After much deliberation, you had chosen the outfit Seonghwa recommended. The dress was elegant yet understated, perfect for an evening out without feeling too over the top. You sat on your bed, waiting for Hongjoong’s message, your heart fluttering with anticipation and nerves. As the clock struck 8 PM, your phone buzzed with a message from him.

I’m outside.

You quickly grabbed your purse, slipped your phone inside, and made sure to lock your apartment door before heading down to the ground floor.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the sight of Hongjoong leaning casually against his car, his eyes focused on his phone. The soft glow of the streetlights highlighted his sharp features—the strong jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the way his hair was neatly styled. The suit he wore brought out his eyes, making them seem even more captivating in the dim light.

“Hongjoong?” you called out, your voice slightly hesitant. He looked up immediately, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, his expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in your appearance.

As you walked over to him, you could see the admiration in his eyes. He seemed momentarily taken aback by how beautiful you looked, the dress flattering your figure in all the right ways. The elegant fabric and subtle detailing accentuated your features without being too flashy. “Hi,” you greeted him, offering a shy smile.

Instead of a typical greeting, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you, and he finally spoke, his voice soft but sincere. “You look beautiful.”

You laughed lightly, feeling a flush of warmth at his compliment. “Isn’t that supposed to be an unsaid thought?”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Not tonight, it isn’t.”

He moved to the passenger side of the car, opening the door with a gentlemanly gesture. “After you,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. You thanked him, slipping into the car, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He closed the door gently, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

As the car pulled away, you found yourself gazing out the window, mesmerized by the city’s beauty. The streets were alive with lights, the architecture blending old-world charm with modern elegance. The cityscape seemed to sparkle, creating a romantic and enchanting atmosphere. “Paris is so beautiful...” you whispered, almost in awe of the city’s charm.

Hongjoong glanced over at you, smiling. “It is, isn’t it?” he agreed, his tone reflecting the warmth of your admiration.

The drive continued in comfortable silence, the city's lights creating a mesmerizing backdrop. Eventually, the car came to a stop in front of a high-end restaurant. The building exudes elegance, with large windows showcasing the warm, inviting interior. You looked over at Hongjoong, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t used to such fancy places, and the grandeur of the setting made you feel slightly nervous.

Hongjoong noticed your unease and offered you a reassuring smile, his eyes filled with warmth. “It’s going to be great,” he said softly, his voice calming your nerves. He stepped out of the car and walked around to open your door, offering his hand to help you out.

Inside, the restaurant was elegantly decorated, with soft lighting and tasteful decor creating an intimate atmosphere. A waiter greeted you both with a warm smile. “Good evening, sir, madam. Welcome to Le Ciel de Paris,” he said, his voice professional. “May I say, you look lovely this evening, miss,” he added, glancing at you appreciatively.

Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgment, and the waiter led you to the highest floor—a stunning rooftop with a breathtaking view of the city. The night sky was a canvas of deep blues and purples, dotted with stars. A reserved table awaited you, set with fine china and candles, adding to the comforting ambiance.

As you took your seat, you couldn’t help but express your gratitude and slight apprehension. “This is all so... beautiful,” you whispered, your hands fidgeting slightly. “But honestly, Hongjoong, I really don’t think I deserve—”

Your words were cut off as Hongjoong placed his hand gently over yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “Hey,” he said softly, his gaze steady and sincere. “You deserve this. You’ve been amazing, and I wanted to show my appreciation.”

The sincerity in his voice eased your worries, and you nodded, smiling gratefully. Just then, the waiter approached your table, ready to take your orders. “Good evening. May I start you off with something to drink?” he asked, his pen poised over his notepad.

Hongjoong glanced at you, then back at the waiter. “We’ll have a bottle of your finest white wine, please,” he said, and the waiter nodded, jotting it down.

“And for the main course?” the waiter inquired, looking between the two of you.

Hongjoong smiled at you. “What would you like? Do you have any preferences?”

You looked at the menu, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the options, none of which were familiar to you. “I haven’t tried any of these before... I think I’ll just have whatever you recommend,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

Hongjoong nodded understandingly, then turned to the waiter. “She’ll have the grilled sea bass with lemon herb sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon with truffle butter,” he ordered confidently, choosing dishes he thought you would enjoy.

The waiter nodded, noting down your orders. “Excellent choice, sir. Your meals will be out shortly,” he said, giving a polite bow before leaving.

As the evening continued, you and Hongjoong indulged in light conversation, gradually easing into more personal topics. You took a sip of your wine and asked, “So, how are you feeling now that Fashion Week is drawing closer? I know there’s still a few months left, but it’s not as far as it used to be.”

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, exhaling softly. “Honestly? I do feel a little pressured and stressed out. The beginning of the process was quite overdue, which has added some tension,” he confessed, his eyes reflecting the weight of his responsibilities.

Hearing this, you immediately felt a pang of guilt. You were acutely aware that the delay was partly due to the time it took for you to return his sketchbook. “I’m so sorry about the sketchbook... I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble or delay,” you began, your voice tinged with regret.

But Hongjoong quickly shook his head, raising a hand to stop you. “No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault at all. I completely understand why it took a while. You had your own reasons, and I respect that,” he assured you, his tone gentle and understanding. “Besides, I’m grateful it was you who found it. The sketches are as personal as they are professional, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to return them.”

He then shifted the conversation, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “As for my goals for Fashion Week, I’m really aiming to showcase something unique. I want my collection to tell a story—something that resonates on a deeper level with people. I’ve been working on integrating sustainable practices into the designs, focusing on eco-friendly materials and innovative techniques. It’s a challenge, but it’s important to me. I want to highlight not just fashion but also a message about sustainability and conscious consumerism.”

You listened intently, impressed by his dedication and vision. “That sounds amazing. It’s great that you’re thinking about the bigger picture, not just the fashion itself but the impact it has on the world. It’s a refreshing approach in an industry that can sometimes seem so detached from these issues,” you responded, your admiration evident in your voice. “It’s inspiring to see someone so committed to their values and willing to take on the challenge of integrating them into their work.”

Hongjoong smiled, appreciating your support and understanding. “Thank you. It’s definitely a journey, but it’s one I’m passionate about. There’s a lot of work to be done, but I believe it’s worth it.”

As the conversation naturally flowed, Hongjoong turned the focus back to you, his expression curious and concerned. “How have you been handling the sudden exposure to the media? It must be a big change for you.”

You sighed, glancing around the restaurant. You noticed a fair portion of the other diners occasionally glancing in your direction. It was hard to tell if they were looking at Hongjoong, you, or perhaps both of you. The attention felt overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Hongjoong noticed your unease and seemed to read your thoughts. “They’re definitely looking at you,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “People are still curious about you. The media has been persistent, trying to learn more about your background.”

You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, feeling the weight of his words. “It’s quite a lot to take in,” you admitted, your voice carrying a hint of anxiety. “Honestly, it’s a bit scary. What often happens with people who suddenly go viral is that the media and the public can switch up on them. One moment you’re the person everyone wants to know about, and the next, they’re tearing you down for no reason. I can’t help but worry about that, about what people might say or think. There’s probably already hate comments about me out there, and it’s just... unsettling.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his gaze sincere and reassuring. “I understand your concerns, but you shouldn’t waste your time or energy worrying about those people,” he said firmly. “There will always be people who are negative or try to bring others down, especially online where it’s so easy to hide behind anonymity. But what matters is how you handle it. You’ve been genuine and true to yourself, and that’s all anyone can ask for. The people who care about you and respect you will see that, and they’re the ones whose opinions truly matter. The rest is just noise.”

His words were comforting, a reminder to focus on the positive and not let negativity overshadow your experiences. Just as you were about to respond, the waiter arrived with your meals, expertly setting down the plates before you. The aroma of the food was enticing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the delicious meal in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said to the waiter, then turned to Hongjoong with a smile. “And thank you, Hongjoong, for this lovely dinner. It’s really thoughtful of you.”

He smiled warmly. “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad we could spend this evening together.”

You took your first bite of the grilled sea bass, savoring the delicate flavors. The lemon herb sauce complemented the fish perfectly, creating a harmonious and delightful taste. You looked up at Hongjoong, your eyes shining with delight. “This is really good! You definitely recommended the right dish.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Hongjoong said, his smile broadening. “I wanted you to have a good experience here.”

Curious, you asked, “Do you come here often?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I usually only come here when Wooyoung or Seonghwa or both invite me to dinner. I rarely go to extravagant places alone. I prefer staying home or in the office, losing myself in work. It’s just more comfortable for me that way, I guess.”

The evening seemed to slip away like sand through your fingers. Before you knew it, you were seated comfortably in Hongjoong’s car, the soft hum of the engine a soothing backdrop as he began the drive to your apartment. The day’s events, from the delightful meal to the heartfelt conversations, had left you pleasantly exhausted. As you gazed out the window, watching the city lights blur past, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. Hongjoong glanced over, noticing your drowsiness.

“You can sleep if you want to,” he offered kindly, his voice a soft murmur. “I’ll wake you up when we reach your apartment.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it would be alright to take up his offer. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

He smiled gently, reassuring you with a calm, “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s no trouble at all.”

Relieved, you returned his smile and shifted in your seat, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window. As your eyes fluttered closed, the rhythmic motion of the car lulled you into a peaceful slumber. Hongjoong kept his focus on the road, but every now and then, he glanced over at you, noting your serene expression. As the car came to a halt at a red light, he took the opportunity to gently remove his blazer and drape it over you, ensuring you were warm and comfortable. For a brief moment, he found himself mesmerized by your features, a sense of quiet admiration washing over him. A stray strand of your hair fell across your face, and without thinking, he reached out with the intention to brush it away. Just as his fingers were about to touch your skin, the light turned green, pulling him back to reality. He quickly withdrew his hand, clearing his throat and refocusing on the road.

As Hongjoong navigated the familiar streets leading to your apartment, he gently tapped your shoulder three times, rousing you from your nap. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, until your eyes met his. The warmth in his gaze instantly put you at ease. “We’re almost there,” he informed you, a soft smile on his lips.

You nodded, slowly coming back to full awareness. It was then that you noticed his blazer draped over you, the scent of his perfume subtly filling your senses. It carried a complex blend of fruity, floral, and musky notes. Grateful for the warmth, you pulled the fabric closer, a small, appreciative smile gracing your lips.

Upon reaching your apartment building, Hongjoong exited the car first, walking around to your side to open the door. He extended his hand, helping you out of the car. “Thank you,” you murmured, taking his hand and stepping out gracefully. You took a moment to straighten the slight wrinkles in your dress, feeling a bit more composed.

Just as you were about to express your gratitude, a familiar feline figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The cat leaped up, not into your arms as expected, but into Hongjoong’s, causing him to let out a small gasp of surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of him awkwardly adjusting his grip to properly hold the cat.

“Looks like Pompidou missed you,” you remarked with a fond smile, tilting your head as you watched the scene unfold.

Hongjoong chuckled, a mix of amusement and affection in his eyes as he gently petted the cat. “I can definitely picture you being mischievous now,” he cooed, lightly tapping the tip of Pompidou’s nose with his index finger.

An idea sparked in your mind. You quickly pulled out your phone, taking a few steps back to capture the candid moment. Hongjoong, caught in the act of playing with the cat, looked both charming and endearing. You snapped a photo, giggling softly to yourself before putting your phone away.

“You have a kind soul,” you whispered, almost to yourself, as you observed Hongjoong. “That must be why Pompidou likes you.”

As if on cue, the cat suddenly jumped down from Hongjoong’s arms and trotted towards the entrance of your apartment building. Hongjoong watched the feline’s departure with a soft smile, then turned back to you.

“It looks like it’s time for you to go inside,” he said gently, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you prepared to bid him farewell. “Thank you for tonight, Hongjoong. It was really wonderful. And thank you for letting me help out with your designs. It was a great way to distract myself from everything that’s been going on,” you said sincerely, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I’ll definitely make sure to return the favor.”

He shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “You don’t need to. Your presence is enough for me,” he said, then quickly added, waving his hands as if to clarify, “I mean, you’re a really great friend. It’s nice to have you around.”

The term “great friend” resonated with you, touching a part of your heart that hadn’t felt such warmth in a long time. You smiled softly, a heartfelt look in your eyes. “I’m glad you think of me that way,” you replied, your voice soft and sincere.

With that, you exchanged goodbyes, Hongjoong standing by until you safely entered your building. As the door closed behind you, you watched from the lobby as he walked back to his car, giving you one last wave before driving away. You stood there for a moment, reflecting on the evening’s events and the unexpected bond you were forming with Hongjoong. The night had been more than just a distraction; it was a step towards something new and meaningful, leaving you with a warm, lingering feeling as you made your way up to your apartment.

Once you were back home, you quickly settled on the floor with your journal in hand, leaning your back against the bed. The quiet of your apartment contrasted with the eventful day you had, and you felt a comforting sense of calm wash over you. As you opened your journal, the blank pages seemed to invite you to pour out your thoughts and feelings. You began writing, your pen flowing across the paper.

The past few days have been really eventful, thanks to Hongjoong. At first, practicing the ins and outs of sewing was proving itself to be quite the struggle, but I was lucky enough for him to lend me a helping hand with zero judgment. Honestly, I still feel a little embarrassed over offering to help while being well aware I barely knew how a sewing machine operates... But anyway, when I got used to it, I wasted no time in helping him out with one of his designs for his upcoming collection for autumn. We finished it today, and I think it’s safe to say that it turned out great.

He insisted on treating me to a celebratory dinner tonight, and while I had initial hesitance since fancy places weren’t exactly my style, I think his presence helped me get more comfortable with it over the minutes we spent there. He said I was a great friend, too, and I have to say that it was really heartwarming. I can’t even count how many years have passed since the last time someone called me that...

But overall, I had a lot of fun today, and hopefully, I’ll continue to.

🪞 — lividstar.

[mariacallous]

In 2023, the fast-fashion giant Shein was everywhere. Crisscrossing the globe, airplanes ferried small packages of its ultra-cheap clothing from thousands of suppliers to tens of millions of customer mailboxes in 150 countries. Influencers’ “#sheinhaul” videos advertised the company’s trendy styles on social media, garnering billions of views.

At every step, data was created, collected, and analyzed. To manage all this information, the fast fashion industry has begun embracing emerging AI technologies. Shein uses proprietary machine-learning applications — essentially, pattern-identification algorithms — to measure customer preferences in real time and predict demand, which it then services with an ultra-fast supply chain.

As AI makes the business of churning out affordable, on-trend clothing faster than ever, Shein is among the brands under increasing pressure to become more sustainable, too. The company has pledged to reduce its carbon dioxide emissions by 25 percent by 2030 and achieve net-zero emissions no later than 2050.

But climate advocates and researchers say the company’s lightning-fast manufacturing practices and online-only business model are inherently emissions-heavy — and that the use of AI software to catalyze these operations could be cranking up its emissions. Those concerns were amplified by Shein’s third annual sustainability report, released late last month, which showed the company nearly doubled its carbon dioxide emissions between 2022 and 2023.

“AI enables fast fashion to become the ultra-fast fashion industry, Shein and Temu being the fore-leaders of this,” said Sage Lenier, the executive director of Sustainable and Just Future, a climate nonprofit. “They quite literally could not exist without AI.” (Temu is a rapidly rising ecommerce titan, with a marketplace of goods that rival Shein’s in variety, price, and sales.)

In the 12 years since Shein was founded, it has become known for its uniquely prolific manufacturing, which reportedly generated over $30 billion of revenue for the company in 2023. Although estimates vary, a new Shein design may take as little as 10 days to become a garment, and up to 10,000 items are added to the site each day. The company reportedly offers as many as 600,000 items for sale at any given time with an average price tag of roughly $10. (Shein declined to confirm or deny these reported numbers.) One market analysis found that 44 percent of Gen Zers in the United States buy at least one item from Shein every month.

That scale translates into massive environmental impacts. According to the company’s sustainability report, Shein emitted 16.7 million total metric tons of carbon dioxide in 2023 — more than what four coal power plants spew out in a year. The company has also come under fire for textile waste, high levels of microplastic pollution, and exploitative labor practices. According to the report, polyester — a synthetic textile known for shedding microplastics into the environment — makes up 76 percent of its total fabrics, and only 6 percent of that polyester is recycled.

And a recent investigation found that factory workers at Shein suppliers regularly work 75-hour weeks, over a year after the company pledged to improve working conditions within its supply chain. Although Shein’s sustainability report indicates that labor conditions are improving, it also shows that in third-party audits of over 3,000 suppliers and subcontractors, 71 percent received a score of C or lower on the company’s grade scale of A to E — mediocre at best.

Machine learning plays an important role in Shein’s business model. Although Peter Pernot-Day, Shein’s head of global strategy and corporate affairs, told Business Insider last August that AI was not central to its operations, he indicated otherwise during a presentation at a retail conference at the beginning of this year.

“We are using machine-learning technologies to accurately predict demand in a way that we think is cutting edge,” he said. Pernot-Day told the audience that all of Shein’s 5,400 suppliers have access to an AI software platform that gives them updates on customer preferences, and they change what they’re producing to match it in real time.

“This means we can produce very few copies of each garment,” he said. “It means we waste very little and have very little inventory waste.” On average, the company says it stocks between 100 to 200 copies of each item — a stark contrast with more conventional fast-fashion brands, which typically produce thousands of each item per season, and try to anticipate trends months in advance. Shein calls its model “on-demand,” while a technology analyst who spoke to Vox in 2021 called it “real-time” retail.

At the conference, Pernot-Day also indicated that the technology helps the company pick up on “micro trends” that customers want to wear. “We can detect that, and we can act on that in a way that I think we’ve really pioneered,” he said. A designer who filed a recent class action lawsuit in a New York District Court alleges that the company’s AI market analysis tools are used in an “industrial-scale scheme of systematic, digital copyright infringement of the work of small designers and artists,” that scrapes designs off the internet and sends them directly to factories for production.

In an emailed statement to Grist, a Shein spokesperson reiterated Peter Pernot-Day’s assertion that technology allows the company to reduce waste and increase efficiency and suggested that the company’s increased emissions in 2023 were attributable to booming business. “We do not see growth as antithetical to sustainability,” the spokesperson said.

An analysis of Shein’s sustainability report by the Business of Fashion, a trade publication, found that last year, the company’s emissions rose at almost double the rate of its revenue — making Shein the highest-emitting company in the fashion industry. By comparison, Zara’s emissions rose half as much as its revenue. For other industry titans, such as H&M and Nike, sales grew while emissions fell from the year before.

Shein’s emissions are especially high because of its reliance on air shipping, said Sheng Lu, a professor of fashion and apparel studies at the University of Delaware. “AI has wide applications in the fashion industry. It’s not necessarily that AI is bad,” Lu said. “The problem is the essence of Shein’s particular business model.”

Other major brands ship items overseas in bulk, prefer ocean shipping for its lower cost, and have suppliers and warehouses in a large number of countries, which cuts down on the distances that items need to travel to consumers.

According to the company’s sustainability report, 38 percent of Shein’s climate footprint comes from transportation between its facilities and to customers, and another 61 percent come from other parts of its supply chain. Although the company is based in Singapore and has suppliers in a handful of countries, the majority of its garments are produced in China and are mailed out by air in individually addressed packages to customers. In July, the company sent about 900,000 of these to the US every day.

Shein’s spokesperson told Grist that the company is developing a decarbonization road map to address the footprint of its supply chain. Recently, the company has increased the amount of inventory it stores in US warehouses, allowing it to offer American customers quicker delivery times, and increased its use of cargo ships, which are more carbon-efficient than cargo planes.

“Controlling the carbon emissions in the fashion industry is a really complex process,” Lu said, adding that many brands use AI to make their operations more efficient. “It really depends on how you use AI.”

There is research that indicates using certain AI technologies could help companies become more sustainable. “It’s the missing piece,” said Shahriar Akter, an associate dean of business and law at the University of Wollongong in Australia. In May, Akter and his colleagues published a study finding that when fast-fashion suppliers used AI data management software to comply with big brands’ sustainability goals, those companies were more profitable and emitted less. A key use of this technology, Atker says, is to closely monitor environmental impacts, such as pollution and emissions. “This kind of tracking was not available before AI-based tools,” he said.

Shein told Grist it does not use machine-learning data management software to track emissions, which is one of the uses of AI included in Akter’s study. But the company’s much-touted usage of machine-learning software to predict demand and reduce waste is another of the uses of AI included in the research.

Regardless, the company has a long way to go before meeting its goals. Grist calculated that the emissions Shein reportedly saved in 2023 — with measures such as providing its suppliers with solar panels and opting for ocean shipping — amounted to about 3 percent of the company’s total carbon emissions for the year.

Lenier, from Sustainable and Just Future, believes there is no ethical use of AI in the fast-fashion industry. She said that the largely unregulated technology allows brands to intensify their harmful impacts on workers and the environment. “The folks who work in fast-fashion factories are now under an incredible amount of pressure to turn out even more, even faster,” she said.

Lenier and Lu both believe that the key to a more sustainable fashion industry is convincing customers to buy less. Lu said if companies use AI to boost their sales without changing their unsustainable practices, their climate footprints will also grow accordingly. “It’s the overall effect of being able to offer more market-popular items and encourage consumers to purchase more than in the past,” he said. “Of course, the overall carbon impact will be higher.”

[kamastar39]

Remote Job Search

Okay so I know this might be an insane place to ask… but who’s hiring for fully remote roles. I am trained in PR, visual art, and international relations and of course graphic design and have worked as a flight attendant. I have plenty of transferable skills and like most young people around my age who have graduated college, the job search market is trash. From the online search engines (linkedin, indeed, etc…) I always either 1. Hear that the role was filled months later, 2. Hear that the role was taken down, 3. (And this one usually takes some digging) find that the roles was filled in house. I always see posts talking about nepotism in the entertainment industry but no one wants to speak about it on a small scale, like the local restaurant who hires their kids as the chef, the principal who hires their nephew as a teacher. I don’t mean to complain about fairness, because if my parents handed me an opportunity I wanted i absolutely would take it, but I’d fight to make sure that I was capable and worthy of it.

I am well aware that we do not live in a meritocracy, but that does not mean I do not have the merit. I hate to complain here as this account is supposed to be my escape, but I know plenty of professionals have accounts here as well. I have had comments off for the sake of my mental health but reblog and I’ll check your tags. Believe me if I am turning to TUMBLR of all places for job search I have EXHAUSTED my options.

And I know I am not alone in my search. I am specifically searching for fully remote roles for personal reasons but you guys feel free to reblog with new info and tag! If this post can help any of us get what we need then my job here is done ✅

So as of right now…

Support a small artist

[hardly-an-escape]

Among the Stars We are Reborn

Square: A4 - Creature: Phoenix Rating: T Word Count: 5399 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Dreamling Bingo fill, Creature: Phoenix, canon divergent, future fic, established relationship, science fiction, speculative fiction, space travel, Hob Gadling throughout history, Hob Gadling in space Summary: Some centuries in the future, Hob has taken to the stars, working as a freelance researcher and courier. He is on his way to one of Jupiter’s moons on a research mission when Dream joins him, and together they search for the elusive Ionian phoenix. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo

The funny thing was, it was never quiet in space. Hob had thought it would be, that first time he’d left the planet in his own ship... At some point he’d had formed the idea that once he got up there by himself, once he left the public spaceport and the press of overpopulation behind, he would leave the noise behind, too. Find, at last, a pure silence, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in all his long life. Space, he’d thought, under the right circumstances, could be free of everything, of bugs and advertisements and other people, of every little noise. He’d been wrong.

The funny thing was, it was never quiet in space.

Hob had thought it would be, that first time he’d left the planet in his own ship.

Commercial spaceflights were loud, of course, and always had been – as bad as planes were, back in the day, and maybe even worse, during the longer flights to the Mars colonies – industrial-sized rockets generating industrial-sized noise ferrying care packages and flour and crying children across the solar system instead of cross-country. But at some point he had formed the idea that once he got up there by himself, once he left the public spaceport and the press of overpopulation behind, he would leave the noise behind, too.

Find, at last, a pure silence, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in all his long life. Space, he’d thought, under the right circumstances, could be free of everything, of bugs and advertisements and other people, of every little noise.

He’d been wrong.

It wasn’t just that his little ship, new as she was, made her own small moans and groans on that first test run beyond the edge of Earth’s atmosphere. The crackle of the radio, the hum of the engines, the muted whistle of the air purifier – all these sounds could be turned off, and Hob had done so. He’d shut down everything but the most basic life support and floated in the liminal space between the Earth and the Moon for a full ten minutes, a tiny soap bubble in the darkness. He’d breathed deeply, taken his mind away from the sound of his own heartbeat, and listened.

Turns out, space makes its own music.

As the years went by, he gained a variety of descriptions of the music from other spacefarers who’d heard it too. Some of the more fanciful freelancers called it celestial jazz and discussed at length whether it followed a particular meter, if it was chromatic or pentatonic in scale, and other musical terms Hob barely understood.

A group of missionaries he met on a remote Martian outpost insisted that the music was the means by which God was expressing themself directly to the universe.

Scientists talked about background radiation and planetary resonance and something called vacuum atmospherics on which he read several papers before deciding, ruefully, that there were some mathematic principles which he would simply never understand.

He’d asked Dream about it, once. Had even shut down all systems like he had that first time, just to listen. (He still does, occasionally, because whatever it is, it is beautiful.)

What is it? he’d asked. You must know.

And Dream had smirked that particular Endless smirk that drove Hob mad, and drawn him away from the viewscreen and its twinkling miniature Earth.

Stars dream, too, Hob Gadling.

And that had been all Hob had been able to glean from his lover on the subject.

Hob’s ship was not a thing of beauty. Her design was far too boxy and utilitarian for that. But Hob loved his snug little vessel with an almost obsessive affection. She reminded him of a camper van he’d had in the 1960s, or the massive rolltop desk he’d put in his study in the late 1800s, everything folded away in neat drawers and cubby holes, not an inch wasted. He reveled in it every time he made ready for a trip: packing away his clothes and gear, choosing rations, replacing the air filters, checking the water purifier and the drip lines on his tiny hydroponic garden.

And, crucially, she was all his.

Even the New Inn, way back when, hadn’t really been all his. There’d been investors and mortgage holders and zoning committees and eventually the National Heritage List to contend with, and while Hob had been the one to pick the lighting fixtures and design the wooden inlay on the bar, it had always been fundamentally a group project. Not to mention that its very purpose was to serve as a gathering place, a safe space for anyone who happened to walk through the door.

Not so his spaceship. All right, he hadn’t built her himself – despite his best efforts, he would never be more than a mediocre aerospace engineer – but Hob had spent weeks at the dealership, poring over schematics and blueprints, personally choosing the design of every single cubic centimeter. The sales associate had leered a little when Hob insisted on a double-wide bunk, given that all the other specs were for single occupancy – but he was paying cash, not financing, so it wasn’t like they were going to argue with him.

He’d known it was worth a little leering, the first time he and Dream had wrapped their arms around each other and gazed out the tiny porthole window at the stars, so close you could almost reach out and touch them.

Dream had been with him when his ship was delivered to the public spaceport nearest Hob’s flat. They’d walked around her together, Dream smiling slightly as Hob enthusiastically described the engines and pointed out the retractable heat shields. His long fingers had trailed over the official designation engraved on the side – Hob still thought of it as a license plate, like on his car – and he’d raised an eyebrow.

“I know,” Hob had laughed. “Can you believe it?”

“You did not choose this number on purpose?”

“Believe it or not, no. They’re automatically assigned during manufacture, randomly generated so each one is unique. This is pure human coincidence, my friend. Or maybe fate, who knows – we’ll have to ask your brother. Not that he’ll tell us.”

Dream had traced the numbers again: UKCS-001389, big and bold. Then he’d smiled.

“Come, take me inside,” he’d said. “I would see that my beloved will live well among the stars.”

Hob had locked the hatch behind them.

Later, after Hob had showed off every corner and cubbyhole, and after they had thoroughly evaluated the comfort and structural integrity of the double-wide bunk, they’d sprawled together, fingers finding new patterns on familiar skin.

“Have you given any thought as to what you might name her?” Dream had asked idly.

“Some. My first idea was to call her the Robin.” Hob had sighed. “I liked to think of that name flying off to the moon and other planets – but it was already taken and the UKSA doesn’t allow for duplicates.”

“And your second choice?”

“Well,” Hob had turned and run the backs of his knuckles down Dream’s cheek. “I do have another idea. But I wanted to ask you about it first. I was thinking… well, you’ve told me so much about her… I was thinking, I might name her Jessamy.”

Dream’s head had turned slowly toward Hob, an inscrutable look in his eye.

“I know it was a while ago now, even by our standards. But she was with you for so long. She loved you, protected you –”

“And failed, in the end,” he’d said thickly. “And died.”

“She didn’t fail. And I don’t think her death is the most important thing about her. I mean, I don’t think it’s bad luck or anything, you know? It’s only one bad moment in a long, long string of good ones. And, you know,” he had stumbled gamely on, “I like the idea that part of her – part of you – would be traveling with me. A new adventure. It would make me feel… close to you, if she were with me. When you aren’t here.”

Dream had simply looked at him, for a long moment, and then pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him, kissing him slowly and sweetly and deeply.

“Even after all this time, the depth of your heart never fails to astonish me. I would be honored,” he’d said, “if Jessamy were to fly again with you. And so, I think, would she.”

The next day, Hob had gone to the nearest Space Agency office, waited in an interminable line, and officially registered UK Civilian Ship 001389 as the Jessamy.

A week later, she flew for the first time. Or again, depending on how you measure it. And thus the newest chapter in Hob’s long life had begun.

Read the rest on AO3 >>>

many thanks to @tryan-a-bex for the beta read!

green = complete, orange = WIP

[swamp-spirit]

Got tagged by @redhoodinternaldialectical

My word is ENOCH, so the prompt is to go through a WIP file to find paragraphs starting with those letters and share a snipper. Enjoy some previews from my Superhero Thesis Novel and a junky xeno space lesbian romance.

Even talking was too loud.

“I’ll do her make-up with a little extra foundation and she’ll look fine,” Liz said. “You know I’m a miracle worker.”

She really was. When corporate realized there wasn’t a single professional make-up artist in all of Northern Nevada that could do dark skin who hadn’t already moved to Vegas, Liz was recruited off her social media make-up tutorials, and Sara had been nervous. Liz was a fan, and fans tended to be disappointed when their heroes were people, but she’d been…

She’d been a good friend, really. That was hard to find for heroes. You could only give your secret identity outside the industry if you were married, which meant lying a lot, but Liz hung out with her on days off and had her back at work. Kim could well get Liz fired, but Liz was confident in her skill.

The dehydration was too bad to sleep, but she wasn’t up for audiobooks or music, so she just lay back, wishing the roads were smoother. Maybe Bloom could campaign against potholes.

The IV was finally starting to kick in when her tablet buzzed.

“Fire. It’s an all hands,” Sara said, sitting up. “And Kim, before you say anything, we still have three hours before the shoot, and we can tell them we’ll be a little late due to the huge fucking fire, okay? Because if it gets out everyone else was saving homes and I was advertising strawberry milk, they’ll crucify me.”

Nexus was the only planet in the system where aliens were common, and even then, it was usually Batk-Hy. She’d never seen an alien in person. Humans were famous for their unprotected skin. Their name translated to ‘a bare heart under armor’, something that could refer to the contrast between their brutal and affectionate reputations or provide helpful instructions for killing them.

What did a sentient creature with no fur or scales look like in person? Were they slimy like exposed muscle or dry like sandstone?

“It is my honor to meet you all. I have been kindly granted the name Mist-Rolling-in-Across-the-Harbor. My shortname is to be ‘Harbor’.”

The human’s accent was perfect. Their voice was a bit odd, and she finally looked over to see if it had a throat injury.

Oh. Of course. Its voicebox wouldn’t be flexible enough to talk properly.

It was small, only up to Dawn’s shoulder, and without the armor she’d seen in pictures. It was dressed for the local heat in light cloth. The skin didn’t look slimy or dry; it looked like soft fabric.

Once Dawn was safely married out… it would be a relief to be an orphan. She would no longer be asked to be a spy to her own mate. She could forget her past and make a better life with her new family, raise her children with affection and gentleness. If she didn’t like the family she married into, she’d be free to divorce, take anyone or no one as her mate, go to another planet. Go to another Solar System where House Mist meant nothing.

If Harbor tried to kill her, however, she was screwed. Killing Dawn was as easy as turning off her heater on a cold night.

Well, if Uncle Close didn’t know how to win a human’s loyalty, Dawn would have to learn how to do it right. She didn’t need a loyal tool. She just needed, if Harbor ever realized how many of her problems could be solved with murder, not to be one of those problems.

"Course. How’s your day going?”

Listening to her complain about office politics was a nice break from hero stuff. He’d been seeing too much of the kind of stuff nobody filmed. Grieving loved ones, hecklers and catcallers nearly every time they got out of the car, and the slow realization that Derby was maybe not stable enough to keep herself safe in the field. People admired her work ethic, but, from close up, Drew thought it looked more like compulsion.

Derby slept two hours, but she woke up to the emergency alarm. 

“Shit,” she said. “Shit fuck. Villain punched out a support column on a hotel. We’ve got a lot of people injured. We need to go.”

She leaned toward, like she could make the car run on her own energy.

He’d seen the AYMU building downtown. AYMU’s hero office was a shining tower you could see from blocks away, the logo across the eighth floor daring a villain to attack. Drew knew most hero offices were non-descript. He was pretty sure daisy heroics operated out of a coffee shop downtown.

The office his GPS had taken him to was ugly, a squat, brown thing from the seventies with a few decorative plants barely hanging on to life. Drew stepped through the sliding doors onto yellow-brown carpet, worn down the center and coming up at the edges. He was still half hoping for this to be a front, but instead of pressing in a code and taking the elevator down into a lair, he was shown into a meeting room with foam cups and stale coffee. The woman across from him, Joanne, was small and professional. She handed him stacks of documents to sign.

Kicking it forward to @lebirbybitch @19cats-and-counting @esseastri @abalidoth if they want to play. Your word is REMAIN,

[rockwgooglyeyes]

im gonna be so real with you . i . well im pretty sure its really vague in general now but . i modeled yami after shellos . the pokemon .

ahem anyways i wanted to ask if teneb would possibly have a connection ( friends or something of the like ) with kyuno ? although im definitely not sure of this and am just . guessing off vibes, teneb seems like the type to maybe have friends in segyein from the ( high levels especially of ) fashion industry, and kyuno is a high class segyein that has her own fashion brands for segyein and pet humans so . . well i kinda just think they could talk shit about others together ( and potential angst since kyuno does sometimes divide her well behaving pets into small groups and takes them out to stores and stuff and maybe teneb and dian are tagging along once and yami is too with some of the other girls in the group . . )

OH MY GOODNESS SHELLOS I LOVE SHELLOS (is it the blue one or the pink one??)

also hello Apri my stunning star in the sky I hope you are doing well and having a good Sunday!! I love you <3

Teneb and Kyuno could definitely be friends or business associates! That makes a lot of sense given that Dian is largely a model and musical actor- maybe that's the reason that Yami is sold to Kyuno as well, because Teneb puts in a good word for Kyuno (or well. she puts her finger on the scales a lil bit. just a smidge). Teneb would definitely enjoy having a friend to gossip with, one who runs in the same circles, and a business associate that she can rely on when maybe some deals with other designers aren't going through or they're taking a while. And Kyuno gets free advertisement.

OH Teneb and Kyuno would have a feature in common of being legitimately good to their pets- like Teneb fucks with Dian's head but she's actually pretty nice to him in general. She usually only messes with him when he's stressed to make sure he can keep up with his workload. Which is messed up but at the same time, it's her way of showing affection.

(OH my god if Dian ever reunited with Yami. oh my god. he would be so neurotic. he would be shooting furtive glances at her every minute or so and being like "am i going insane or is that my daughter" and his internal screaming would be going at decibel levels unsuitable for human ears)

[jonathanshaw4747]

Why Canadian Companies Prefer Digital Marketing Agencies over In-house Teams

In the ever-changing digital landscape of Canada, companies big and small have to make one very important decision: develop an in-house digital marketing team or hire the services of a dedicated agency. Far from being a routine operational issue, this choice has great implications for its competitive position, market relevance, and general growth trajectory. With the digital platform becoming increasingly complicated and the stakes of online visibility soaring high, a trend has definitely been witnessed across Canadian companies: that of choosing between the expertise and agility provided by digital marketing agencies over in-house teams.

Expertise and Specialization

This has been one of the major reasons for the tectonic shift in the approach of Canadian enterprises. Digital marketing is not a monolithic discipline but a constellation of specialized areas, each with its own particular demands in expertise. From SEO virtuosos to social media savants, content marketing maestros to PPC prodigies, agencies house a cadre of specialists under one roof. Such an assemblage of talent allows businesses to tap into a wellspring of knowledge that would be prohibitively expensive and logistically challenging to cultivate internally.

What is more, the digital marketing field keeps on changing 24/7, since that is when algorithms, best practices, and consumer behaviors change at the speed of light. This places agencies in a much better place to be updated due to their focus and the heterogeneity of their client base. They undertake heavy continuous learning and serious means of professional development investment to ensure that their strategies remain at the cutting edge of industry changes. This means a commitment to staying current translates into better marketing solutions for their clients-more effectively and innovatively.

Agency versus in-house: financial implications are huge and multi-dimensional. At face value, the retainers or project fees associated with agency services might appear huge. However, a close look will reveal that this is not true on the cost-efficiency level. By outsourcing an agency, a business may significantly reduce overheads like salaries, benefits, office space, and equipment, which are kept by full-time employees.

The next strong economic case lies in the fact that it can make that great sense of scalability and flexibility. It eases the opportunity to adjust marketing spend against seasonal demands, special campaign needs, or fluctuating economies without getting into the complexities of hiring or drastically reducing an internal team. That elasticity of resource allocation permits better budget efficiency and implores optimization of Marketing ROI.

Technology and Tools

The digital marketing arena is the haven for sophisticated tools and platforms-most of which come with heavy price tags, coupled with steep learning curves. Agencies, able to use economies of scale, invest in a wide array of premium software and technologies that would be financially unviable for most individual businesses to acquire. From advanced SEO tools to full-service social media management platforms, agencies arm their clients with the technological arsenal needed to drive marketing effectiveness.

Besides tools, agencies often have state-of-the-art analytics and reporting. These systems allow for the granular tracking of campaign performance, consumer behavior, and ROI. Insights gained from these advanced analytics become the powerhouse that drives businesses into making data-informed decisions and fine-tuning their marketing approaches with strategy precision.

Strategic Objectivity

One of the most overlooked benefits of hiring a digital marketing agency is the fresh perspective it brings to the challenges a brand faces. Sometimes a company's internal teams, despite being quite familiar with the brand, can suffer from tunnel vision or be stuck in paradigms. Agencies, drawing on diverse experience across industries and markets, have become a fertile source of new solutions and unconventional creative approaches, which for those within the organization can be virtually invisible.

This objectivity extends to performance appraisal as well. Large agencies are usually held to very tight KPIs through which they are accountable to deliver measurable results. The setup ensures a very transparent culture of business betterment, whereby the agencies fall under pressure to prove their strategies right and value-proposition-valid on a regular basis.

Time and Resource Management

For most Canadian businesses, more so for the SMEs, the job of dedicating or committing resources to build and maintain a fully-fledged in-house digital marketing team is surely going to distract them from their core business activities. By outsourcing such functions to an agency, this energy is freed for product development, customer service, and other mission-critical activities.

Furthermore, more often than not, agencies are in a much better position than in-house units to implement marketing initiatives. With the established processes, loads of already-vetted resources on standby, and a lot of previous work to its credit, an agency can consequently save time throughout the process from conceiving of the strategy to launching the campaign. This agility is paramount in the fast-paced digital landscape, where usually the early bird catches the worm.

Many of these digital marketing agencies boast of having an extensive industry network, including influencers, media, and technology partners that can open various doors of opportunity to collaboration. Beta programs and early access to new marketing channels/features fall into this category. To Canadian businesses, this is quite an invaluable asset that networks with potential new customers.

Moreover, most agencies have good relations with key platforms, such as Google, Facebook, and LinkedIn, which provide them with the latest features, premium support, and, in some cases, almost privileged rates. More probably than not, such partnerships are passed on as tangible benefits to the clients to enhance the effectiveness and efficiency of their digital marketing initiatives.

As a sustenance of risks

The regulatory requirements associated with digital marketing, encompassing privacy, advertising standards, and the specific policies of these diverse digital platforms, make hazardous minefields for businesses. This adds further pressure on digital marketing agencies because they possess specialized knowledge and experience in ensuring that their clients work in conformance with these regulations. This becomes even more crucial in instances involving Canada, where there are regulations like CASL, which is anti-spam law dictating strict requirements on electronic messaging.

Additionally, the agencies adapt by nature through adaptation to market changes. Their diversified client bases and regular activities with businesses in various industries enable them to identify and respond to the change in consumer behavior, change in technology, or economic conditions very fast. Adapting to the situation at hand helps hedge against potential risks associated with sudden changes in the market which could render several marketing strategies irrelevant.

Performance and Results

What's arguably most convincing in the move towards agency partnerships is the attention to accountability and measurement of performance. Most of the agencies operate on performance-based models with clear KPIs and reporting structures that generate tangible means through which firms realize their marketing return on investment. In other words, therefore, the approach is results-based, with continuous optimization of marketing to align with business objectives.

As such, agencies can contribute to performing competitive benchmarking. With many years of experience across industries and data, they can paint a view for a business regarding its relative standing in digital marketing performance from its competition and industry benchmarks. Such a comparative perspective may also help them zero in on opportunities for performance improvement and areas of differentiation.

The Future of Digital Marketing Partnerships in Canada

The trend of Canadian businesses partnering with specialized marketing agencies is showing no signs of abatement in the evolving digital marketing landscape. The recipe combining experience, the advantage of being cost-effective, technological advances, and strategic value when working with an agency makes compelling economic sense. And, of course, in-house teams will always have their role; it's actually quite important for big organizations. The passed "advantages to this kind of approach are flexibility and comprehensive capabilities available to organizations of any size.".

The collaboration with a digital marketing agency is considered an investment in terms of growth strategy and competitiveness. Increasingly, this is a cost consideration that Canadian executives are factoring in as Canadian businesses strive to find their way through digital complexities—and as a result, a way to innovate the catalyst for success in the long term.

[fateandloveentwined]

Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

I was tagged by @fwoopersongs.

3 Ships You Like: I'm sticking to chinese fandoms in hopes of not exposing myself all in one go hahaha, MCS/XJY from Nirvana in Fire because I've got too many reasons why jingsu works so well??? Other than that I'll go for Thousand Autumns ShenYan, Di Yi Xian Shi YeRong, and Encountering a Snake Yi Mo/Shen Qingxuan for the most romantic heartbreaking elegy ever.

First Ship Ever: Percabeth

Last Song You Heard: it's actually shostakovich but jk let's go for a canto song 蜚蜚 by Sita Chan

FavoUrite Childhood Book: got into many series and franchises but I don't think I had one? Chinese it would be Legend of the Condor Heroes.

Currently Reading: was reading 顶级平替 by 焦糖冬瓜 because I had a sudden entertainment industry danmei phase (probably still do), not anything at the moment. Oh and was looking into 江淹's 恨赋 and other prose since YJ introduced me to Li Bai's imitation of 恨赋 yesterday.

Currently Watching: not at the moment, probably will find some time to watch Dune 2 but the nearest cinemas are all pretty small-scaled run down ones, unless I go a few hours to a bigger city hahah.

Currently Consuming: cheesy wrap

Currently Craving: hmm maybe chinese food because I haven't had it in a while

Tagging @circumference-pie, @nemainofthewater, @sunrequiem, @marilearnsmandarin if you wish, I don't really know who to tag so please just feel free!

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2024-01-08

My guests have just boarded their plane. It was good and now I get to learn exactly what happens when you make my apartment handle three people for two weeks.

Listening: Between the frigid weather and the Maladies, the back half of this trip featured a lot of crashing on the couch. Putting on various background music while people were around featured a lot of Jack de Quidt specials, here's "The Valentine Affair" from Marielda.

The second best part of having an extremely specific music collection that you put together yourself is being shockingly good at telling people who did a particular song when they ask.

Reading: "Small Scale Farmers and Peasants Still Feed The World", a defense of some older UN FAO numbers, and a rebuttal to the paper "How much of our world’s food do smallholders produce?" and by extension Hannah Ritchie's article "Smallholders produce one-third of the world’s food, less than half of what many headlines claim", which was an earlier Reading entry. I think I saw this paper when @probablyasocialecologist posted it.

(PDF linked from that page)

The paper makes some interesting points about the status of the data these studies are based on. It makes me less convinced of their point than it makes me doubtful that anyone has a good number on this, which is valuable on its own. It seems like both the FAO claims and the newer World Development papers have some very arbitrary choices that make it difficult to pin down, but that there is clear value in measuring agricultural productivity differently for these applications.

It mainly brings up the value of including utilization of agricultural calories instead of just looking at raw value output, basically incorporating that a huge amount of the value AND calories produced in highly productive agronomies like the USA end up in cattle feed or biofuels instead of in humans. A good point, we were just talking about this the other day in the biofuel hate tag! It also notes that if you ignore small scale animal agriculture and non-agricultural calorie sources you throw away a lot of calorie conversion in poorer parts of the world.

This is a big deal! Industrial vs Smallholder agriculture is a thing I care a lot about, each one has very variable upsides and downsides and where to focus attentions (yields, transport, industrialization) changes dramatically based on what is the main driver of land use and carbon emissions.

Basically I need to read some more things. Notes to follow maybe.

Watching: I continue to find Jet Lag The Game extremely good.

Playing: Nothing! Busy...

Making: Slides and slips arrived for the Microscope, so I can start doing real mounts. Did a very hasty saliva sample just to check it out, and like. Man it's so nice to have a real scope, you can see epithelial tissue so clearly even with plain old brightfield and no staining. Started working on some printed mounts for a camera. My brother brought my reliable old point-and-shoot up and that's perfectly suited to do some microscopy capture.

Tools and Equipment: I got a basic stylist's comb with a metal tail and it so dramatically simplifies handling long hair when you're washing it. Highly recommended.

[taomyou]

The Affections of an Architect - Chapter 1

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: ONGOING, inconsistent updates Summary: There’s a woman Levi sees every Friday on bus 143, and he thinks she’s really cute. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a paper star from her, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and he falls in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to design the architecture of his dreams. Word Count: 5.7k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking, levi pov (A/N: this fic is available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead! The Affections of an Architect is a spin-off of The Romance of Reimbursements, but can be read as a standalone if preferred. They are the same story, but The Affections of an Architect is written entirely in Levi's POV. The Romance of Reimbursements is already completed, and The Affections of an Architect is currently a side-project that will be updated infrequently.) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

a boring briefcase

“Let’s grab a drink sometime this weekend, yeah? Keep an eye on your phone!” Pixis calls after him, his hands cupped around his mouth to project the echo of his voice further amongst the crowd.

Levi takes mental note to not read any messages sent over the span of the weekend to avoid any patronization from his coworker, but he looks back at the man with a nod to appease him in the moment.

The ravenette turns to face the front of the walkway ahead of him, and he takes slow breaths to ease the stress in his shoulders as he takes the short path through the forested shade. He finds himself moving quickly in spite of his heart, his feet light against the weathered pavement. A small, bashful blush breaks out on his face as he becomes more acutely aware of the lessening distance between himself and his destination, not paying any mind to how idiotic he must look.

Ordinarily, he’d be walking normally after he clocks out, so what has him acting so differently today?

Well, it’s Friday, and Friday is when that woman on his bus is there.

✰

He first saw her in September, a stressful time marked by gentle breeze and the crunch of autumn leaves.

He remembers the soul-crushing pain of even landing this teaching position. Years of taking low-level entry positions and building his portfolio led to this, wherein he’d finally be given the chance to teach others the craft he’d so delicately mastered. He knew what he was signing up for—already on top of his private architectural practice, it was going to be a major shift in his career—but he couldn’t have expected what’d befall him in his newfound endeavors.

He’d anticipated the workload.

Professors in their first year hardly receive respect from their students, nevermind the faculty themselves, so he knew to expect that they’d be putting their most unimportant and draining tasks onto him. He scaled back on his personal projects to make more time available to work on lecture materials and aiding his teaching assistants, and thought it was at the expense of his already-limited leisure time, it brought him great reassurance to know that he was doing right by himself and his staff.

He’d anticipated the pain of having to interact with so many students.

He’s not an idiot—he obviously remembers the overwhelming volume of people that have to be on campus everyday—but he knew to expect the absolute worst, at least to be over-prepared rather than not at all. His email has been nothing but flooded with messages from barely-independent young adults asking the most asinine questions known to man, his office hours are ripe with overachievers trying to milk him for the most irrelevant industry information, and his days are full of frustration in trying to get his lecture materials to reach them meaningfully.

That’s not to mention his obvious dislike for social interaction in the first place, either.

Fuck, he’d even anticipated the workplace drama. Who was a snitch, who was painfully lazy, who was married to who, who was on the brink of divorce with who, who was looking for a partner, who was exes with who—all of which were things that hadn’t ever been important to him in the past, but he to expect them as prevailing topics of discussion during future work dinners.

And he could handle all of that.

He’s spent many a night in his home office, preparing for both the moment he’d be stood at the front of the lecture hall with an annoying clip-on microphone attached to his shirt’s collar and the moment he’d be stuck between two overly-chatty coworkers in a stuffy restaurant he’d never otherwise step foot into.

So what was it that he hadn’t anticipated? Surely, social interaction would’ve been the greatest of his worries, all but behind the rest the other pro forma bullshit he’s had to deal with.

Perhaps an impromptu confrontation with faculty was what was nagging at him?

Or his lecture files all getting lost in the computer system during transfer?

Maybe even a gas leak in his office that’s gone unchecked since the dawn of time?

No.

None of that.

Quite frankly, he’d prefer any of those things, because at least it wouldn’t be his own fault.

God, what he hadn’t anticipated was the fucking parking.

Good fucking grief, Levi had no idea it’d be this bad.

God-awful, horrendous, terrible, nightmare-inducing, criminal. There simply are not enough words in the English language for him to describe how absolutely horrific it was—that first time he’d tried navigating the parking lot.

He did everything right. He left the house hours earlier than he needed to, he already had a staff parking permit neatly placed at the edge of his dashboard, and he made sure that he knew how to navigate the inner roads and whatever other infrastructure he’d be driving through.

And still, after an astounding 47-minutes spent combing through four different lots, he’s been cut off six times, had his spot stolen three times, and been honked at more times than he can count.

All of that to not even get a spot at the very end of the furthest parking lot on campus.

He knew to expect some trouble in finding a place to park—that much was true during his own schooling anyway—but it was never this bad. He’d have just bit the bullet and illegally parked somewhere on the street if he knew it’d take nearly an hour of driving in circles just to attempt to find a spot.

He finds solace when a bald kid (“kid” as a means of referring to anyone who looks young enough to still need their mother to do their laundry) offers him his spot as he’s about to leave, and Levi can finally turn off the engine of his car and put his head down on the steering wheel.

Unfortunately, that’s about as much as peace as he finds with regard to his parking situation, because when he returns to his car at the end of his first day, there’s an orange slip tucked under his windshield wipers, mockingly placed right next to where you can see his parking permit.

This same routine of begging to powers he didn’t believe in for just one parking spot, no matter how far, continued for just one week before Levi just couldn’t do it anymore.

He was already dealing with the stress of teaching on top of everything else (including a sum of multiple parking tickets), and Levi had enough of trying to figure out how to make this work.

On the 15th of September, he angrily marched calmly walked to the employee services building, curtly asked for help in obtaining a bus fare card (which apparently came as one of the very, very few benefits of working at the institution), and made his way back to his car for the last time it’d be parked on campus.

As he drove home that fateful Thursday afternoon, he looked at the route in spite, a scorn deeply etched into his features. He’d rather die than have to deal with this bullshit again, and if that meant taking public transit and having to deal with even more people, then he’d take the deal.

When he got home that Thursday afternoon, he looked over the routes several times to make sure that he’d be prepared for the following day, and after deciding that he didn’t want to have to switch buses during his commute, he’d settled on parking his car at Isabel’s parents’ shop near the supermarket on Rose. He rang the older couple up to ask if it’d be alright with them (which it obviously was), and Levi was set.

Convenient enough anyway, considering he went there often regardless to do the grocery shopping for the house he shared with Isabel and Furlan.

But, no matter, because on the 16th of September, Levi got dressed in a neat suit for work, got in his car, headed over to park at Magnolia Floral Company for the day, and made his way over to the bus stop.

Thankfully, he had no issues taking the bus in the first place, having done so all throughout his latter high school years. Even with all the time that’s passed since then, he figured it wouldn’t be any different.

When bus 143 arrived, he hopped on without any issues, scanned his bus fare card without any issues, and sat down at the back of the bus without any issues. The seat he’d chosen faced the sides of the row, giving him a view of the landscape and cityscape which’d pass by. It was a sight to behold, where trees shed their summer greens for autumn browns and birds would migrate south, but that entirely uninterested him.

Who cared if the leaves were starting to turn and the sun set lower in the sky? Who cared if people seemed to dress slightly warmer to keep from the nipping cold? Who cared if the sky was dotted with clouds in the shape of flowers?

Certainly not Levi, so when the bus reached the Sina University campus, he didn’t even bother lifting his head up as he stepped off the vehicle and headed over to his office.

There, he discovered a box left by another professor in the department: Dot Pixis, as written on the top in messy handwriting. Cautiously, Levi put down his backpack on the chair and stared at the gift.

It wasn’t anything particularly fancy—just a packaged teapot and an accompanying tea cup. Levi picked up the box, careful not to drop it, and he turned the box in his band to read all its labeling.

Though he wanted to appreciate the sentiment, it was so obvious that Pixis had just repackaged an old gift he hadn’t wanted for himself. There was a sticker on the box’s underside that addressed the teapot to Pixis from “Granny,” and Levi can’t quite get behind enjoying the tea set when that’s the case.

Levi puts the box into an empty drawer at his desk, and after fully gathering his bearings, he sighs before hoisting his backpack up on his shoulders again and making the walk to the lecture hall.

Levi’s sure he’ll never get used to having a student at his ear on this walk, asking what his favorite pastime is or if he’s going to be offering extra credit this semester. It’s almost as if he’s surrounded by a hive of overachievers begging for his approval and validation, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out at them.

They pay enough money to be in this hellhole. If nothing else, he could at least listen to them.

Not like he enjoys it, but whatever.

Just another Friday.

Lecture goes just as well as he expected it would, with himself preaching to the choir about course attendance and such. The material itself was simple enough, so there wasn't any particular need for him to stress about whether or not the students will be able to absorb the information. When he finished with his presentation, he answered a few questions, and right as the clock marked the end of class, everyone was off and running. Levi called over the few members of his teaching staff to make sure they’re set for next week’s lessons, but after that, he was gone and off to get on his ride home.

The walk was especially drab, only through a long cement pathway lined with tall trees. The colors all seemed to blend together, imprinting itself as unremarkable to him.

But regardless, Levi had no trouble at all finding the transit station again and locating the correct stop. He paid no mind to the handful of students that were waiting for the same bus, only concentrating on getting the bus fare card out of his wallet and making sure that no leaves had made their own onto his person.

He checked the time on his watch; 2:45 PM. He heard the screech of the tires seconds later, and he waited in the line as he went to scan the card he’d received from the services office yesterday.

And, well.

The ride was normal.

It passed through the same boring cityscape that it did in the earlier part of the day, only now in the opposite direction. He sat in the exact same seat as he did this morning, for whatever reason now used to this particular spot in the space, and he kept his head down as he waited to reach Rose.

The scenery passing by would’ve looked different, had he bothered to look up and witness its beauty, but he didn’t.

As it did periodically, the speakers announced the bus’ next stop, and it subsequently stopped and waited for its new passengers. The sound of frantic shuffling towards the front of the bus caught his attention, but it wasn’t until a voice spoke that he looked up.

“Thank you so much!”

Lifting his head, he saw a woman clad in pink at the fare card reader, biting her lip as she struggled to fit her card back into her wallet. Nervous laughter reached his ears as she continued to apologize to the bus driver in earnest, which brought upon grateful reassurance from him as he waited for her to gather her bearings. The modest gems on her shoes glittered brightly, forcing him to squint his eyes slightly as she started making her way down the aisle to find a seat.

And, whether it’s because he’s cursed or he’s blessed, she decided to sit directly in front of him.

She seemed all too distracted with getting herself settled into her seat, so Levi took the opportunity to steal brief glances at the woman now.

Her hair seemed to glow in the sunshine that leaked in from the windows behind her, illuminating her in a glow he’d never thought he’d find beautiful before. A dainty pearl necklace hung from her neck, drawing attention to the lace collar of her fancy blouse. She seemed to belong to some sort of high profession—that of business, or perhaps law—because she was exceptionally well put-together, her outfit pristine and-

Well, he supposed he found her outfit rather… pretty.

Yeah, pretty.

But going along with her professional appearance was a smile, the expression looking almost as if it’d belonged on her face. That paired with the obvious consideration for others as seen in her exchange with the bus driver made her seem rather friendly. Her eyes, though downturned, still shined in spite of the tire that seemed to lull her into a quiet rest.

But even with her very cute smile and her very pretty attire and her very endearing laughter, perhaps what stood out most about her was that her briefcase was… boring.

It bore no semblance to her at all. It was a plain black with practical pockets, with not a single scratch on its surface. No keychains, no charms hanging on its zippers. Even he had a small keychain hung from his backpack, and he found himself to be as plain as they came.

It just didn’t seem to really match her, but he supposes it added to the mystery of her—that, in contrast to her otherwise bright demeanor.

But who was he to assume that, really? That it didn’t match her? She was just a stranger. One that was admittedly very attractive, but a stranger regardless.

Still, for whatever reason, it seemed as if his heart was caught in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe, his wit failing him as he found himself dreaming for the moment her eyes would reach his and he'd fall to the floor in embarrassment.

He needed to be knocked out of his staring, but thankfully, his senses came back to him and he managed to do that himself. He obviously knew it would be weird to stare any longer than he already had been, so he tried to busy himself by suddenly taking interest in the leaves blowing against the wind in the sky behind her.

His eyes darted in every direction, pretending to look out the window she sat in front of. She never seemed to look back up at him, though, so maybe she didn’t care that he was even there in front him.

He was grateful for his choice in outfit, since he’d felt rather good in it—he wouldn’t want such a beautiful stranger to think he had poor fashion taste. Not that she probably cared. She didn’t seem to look in his direction at all.

He was grateful she didn’t look at him.

Well… some part of him was grateful that she didn’t.

Before his brain could even wrap itself around the idea that this stranger could’ve actually given him a fucking heart attacked if she made eye contact, god forbid she fucking smile at him, the bus stopped at 3:40 PM at Rose, and Levi got up from his seat and left the bus without so much as a sound.

He felt like he was out of his own body as he walked to his car, only his instinct guiding him to unlock the car and get himself strapped in. His hands were on the steering wheel, holding on tightly so as to keep himself from sinking into the earth, and he found himself having to cover his face so as to hide the growing blush on his face from himself.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Here he is, a fully grown man, burning in embarrassment over a woman he’d only met a mere half-hour ago. Fuck, they didn’t even meet each other—he just awkwardly stared at her on a bus ride through the September sun. He didn’t even know her name.

It had to be the mystery of a stranger, right? He lightly slammed his forehead against the wheel, trying to knock some more sense into himself, and he groaned.

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t one to care for love at all in the first place, and he was all hot for a woman he didn’t even get to make eye contact with.

He decided then that, in spite of the budding dream he’d had to have her eyes see his, the stranger on bus 143 would be someone he didn’t think of outside of 40 minute-ish ride he’d just shared with her. He’d probably never see her again anyway.

And he was right. He didn’t see her the following Monday. Not on the ride to work, not on the ride home.

When he didn’t see her on Tuesday, having had to come onto campus to finish some paperwork, he figured she would just be gone forever, and the woman could stay someone he could form an answer around if someone asked about what his type was.

Truth be told, he probably didn’t even have a type. He doubts he’s anyone else’s, and it’s not like he’s ever bothered to ever even form an opinion on other people as romantic partners. People were attractive, sure, but that had absolutely nothing to do with what he wanted from love.

The following week continued as normal, with Pixis stopping by his office constantly to ask him about the teapot and his supervisors coming through to greet him. It was nothing special, really; all he did was lecture, help his staff with grading papers, and start drafting his courses’ finals. With regard to his private practice, he worked freely on designs for a few clients, but nothing particularly taxing took up his time.

He was glad to be getting into the groove of working at the university. That, combined with him not having to deal with the fucking parking, made for a somewhat pleasant work week there, and he was glad to be finally done with it all and head home.

By the time Friday came around, he had completely forgotten about the woman on the bus, and his days were filled with both mindless decorum and fruitful excitement for the movement of his career.

Imagine his surprise when, on Friday, he saw her again, stumbling onto the bus and sitting at the exact same spot as last time.

He guesses he didn’t consider her only taking the bus on Fridays. Or maybe just at a different time, since his own schedule is quite irregular depending on the day. Either way, he avoided looking at her altogether to save face, but he still felt a hiccup in his throat at just the thought of her being there.

When he got to his car, he went through the same motions as last Friday.

Hiding his face in his hands, slamming his head on the steering wheel, and groaning into the abyss to curse the universe for making such a perfect looking woman.

After the fourth Friday he sees her, he accepts that this is just how his weekly encounters with the angelically beautiful stranger will go.

In the end, he didn’t even get to decide whether or not the stranger on bus 143 would’ve ended up becoming someone he thought about every week.

✰

Levi sighs as the warmth of his home envelops him, letting his blush settle just as it does every Friday. Over the last several months, he’s learned to suppress it in the moment, but it always manages to erupt as soon as he’s alone, whether that be in his car, at home, or both.

The air has gotten colder now that it’s January, and Levi curses himself for not having worn a warmer outfit to both protect him from the cold and hide his face. After absentmindedly slipping off his shoes and getting his backpack on the table, he relishes in the plush of his couch, perfectly comfortable to keep him from freezing, and he closes his eyes to give himself chance to relax further.

But he can’t, because he has to take a breather and groan into his bare hands as he anguishes over the fact that he’s too painfully awkward to properly keep himself from completely falling deeper into this dream.

This particular day, it doesn’t help that the stranger wore a scarf today, one that was especially cozy and warm. Levi wasn’t one to find such plain things endearing, but the sight of her fiddling with its loose threads as if in deep thought has him melting regardless.

Why the fuck is this happening to him?

He knows all too well that it has to stop, so after he's done thanking cursing the universe for these chance encounters, he goes to the kitchen to start himself a cup of tea that’ll actually calm him down. On Fridays, Furlan and Isabel aren’t due to come home until much later in the evening, so he’ll let himself look ridiculous for the time-being, his face an embarrassing cherry red and his hands nervous as they fill the kettle with water.

He doesn’t have any particular preference for his tea right now, so he grabs a simple black tea blend and carefully spoons a few loose leaves into the pot. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants as he waits for the water to heat up, the small of his back against the kitchen counter, and he tips his head back to look up at the ceiling.

He takes slow breaths to calm the flame on his face, and he throws himself so deep into thought that when his phone rings, he doesn’t hear it. It isn’t until the third time calling that Levi notices, and he begrudgingly takes his hands out of his pocket to reach for the device and accept the call without checking the caller ID.

“Who’s this?”

Levi’s learned the hard way that he’s better off not being too rude when taking calls, especially when his line of work requires a fair amount of professionalism. He’s taken to usually setting different ringtones depending on whether it’s a client, coworker, or friend (the latter of which tend to pick which songs themselves… Levi’s also learned to silence his phone in public), but he was far too lost in thought to recognize the tune when he took the call.

“It’s me!” He recognizes the voice as Isabel’s. “Anyway, I’m just calling to let you know that my class today was canceled last-minute and Furlan said the thing he was gonna do with his coworkers fell through, so we’re coming home early with dinner! Did you already eat?”

“No,” Levi replies. “How close are you to home?”

“Turning the corner onto our street!”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Levi pulls his phone away from his ear and goes to open his camera and flips it onto himself, and he lights up redder when he sees that his blush is still there. He pushes down memory of the non-exchange, but that only seems to fan the flames even further when he remembers how the colors of the winter scenery which’d passed her by complimented her bright eyes.

He absolutely can’t let his friends see him like this.

“Don’t worry, we ordered your favorite at that Chinese place you like! Well, actually, I don’t know if you like it, but you’ve never complained when we got it before! I’m gonna hang up to help Furlan carry everything in, but I’ll see you in, like, five seconds!”

There’s a beep as the call ends, and Levi runs his hands down his face.

Levi quickly abandons the kettle to go to the bathroom sink and splash his hair with water, feigning himself having taken a shower to make excuse for him to look so red. He hears both the hissing of the kettle and the opening of the front door as he takes a towel to place on his shoulders, and he rushes to his room to get dressed in home clothes to make the lie believable, grateful that neither of his housemates have seen him yet.

When he returns to the kitchen, Furlan having set the table for dinner and Isabel having finished with making the tea, Levi clears his throat.

Isabel notices him first and waves at him from the counter. “Hey, Levi! Sorry I didn’t let you know sooner, but it worked out anyway since you haven’t eaten.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Levi grumbles, taking his usual seat at their dining table. He props up his head with his hand, trying to subtly hide the red on his face, but it doesn’t get past Furlan.

“Dude, why’s your face all red? And your ears too. Are you sick or something?”

Levi seethes in embarrassment as he tries not to oust himself, but that just makes him look even worse.

“Ooh, ooh, let me see!” Isabel chirps, carefully rushing over to the table with the teapot and a few cups. “Yeah, you look super red. I think we have some medicine in the fridge, want me to get you some?”

“I’m not sick. I just got out of the shower,” Levi barks.

Furlan and Levi look at him with confused faces, having never seen Levi that red before, but they just shrug, taking the lie as truth. 

“If you say so.”

He absolutely isn’t going to budge on this lie, so as long as they don’t ask any questions, Levi will consider their mild confusion a win.

Levi eats his food quietly as Furlan and Isabel boisterously go back and forth about whatever it is that they’re talking about. He isn’t much of a talker during meals in the first place, but his complete silence is motivated by fear of accidentally slipping up and giving himself away. He hasn’t ever seen either of them earlier than the usual 9 PM that they usually arrive home on Fridays, so he’s unused to any interaction so near to the time he sees that woman on the bus.

Once the three have finished eating, Levi clears the table while the other two continue gossiping about some of Furlan’s coworkers. Why Furlan cares so much about workplace drama, Levi will never understand, but it keeps him and Isabel occupied enough to give Levi the space to also clean the kitchen.

As he finishes with getting the countertops cleaned up and his tea set stored away safely, he walks past Isabel and Furlan to his home office to get ready for the night. Levi’s tired enough from working all week, and he’d like to get squarely into bed as soon as possible.

He takes out what he needs from his backpack and sets it on his desk, ready for the following day should he decide to do more work, and he gets to filing away whatever paperwork he’s brought home. It doesn’t take long for him to finish with either task, and he tiredly sighs as he drags himself to his bedroom to get a second change of clothes to take a shower,

As part of the house negotiations, it was agreed upon that Isabel would get the master bedroom because she needed her own bathroom, so Levi always had to use the bathroom in the hall to take showers. Not that it’s ever been any particular issue until literally right now, where Isabel and Furlan hear him shuffling through the house with a new set of clothes and going into the bathroom.

“Didn’t you already take a shower, Levi?” Isabel innocuously asks.

Levi freezes for a second before clicking his tongue to feign indifference, going to turn the doorknob. “I’m taking another one. It’s cold.”

Again, Isabel and Furlan look at him with confused expressions, but they eventually just bid Levi goodnight and continue talking amongst themselves about whatever was the topic of discussion.

Levi breathes an apprehensive sigh of relief as he steps into the bathroom, and he’s quick in stripping himself of his clothes and getting the water started. It’s warm as it falls on his body, and he runs himself through the usual as he lathers his hands in shampoo.

What to do after he’s done here, what to do tomorrow, what to do on Sunday, what to do on Monday. So on and so forth.

Quite miraculously, he realizes he doesn’t have any plans on Sunday other than to check his emails to ensure there’s no immediate work emergencies. Usually, Erwin or one of his other few friends would invite him out for both days of the weeknd, but this is a blessing.

For fucking once, he gets to be alone and enjoy his own company. Admittedly, he already does when he’s working by himself, but that feeling on a weekend is something else entirely more euphoric.

He finishes with his shower and shuts off the water, stepping out and drying himself off with a towel. He drapes it on his shoulders (this time, not for show and to actually dry his hair) and steps back into his bedroom. He sits on his bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone to pass the time, and he periodically stretches his arms to lull himself to sleep.

Before he knew it, the clock ticked to near midnight, and he slipped under the covers to stay warm. He hardly ever sleeps at an appropriate time, used to late nights working and stressing about every little thing going on his life, but today is an exception: he’ll close his eyes at 11:45 PM, wait until sleep takes him, and, tomorrow, his body will force him awake with the rise of the sun.

He gets up to turn off his light, ready to call it a day, only to hear his phone beep with a text notification.

Followed by another.

And another.

And another.

You get the idea.

Good fucking lord, who the fuck is texting at this time of the day?

Ugh, probably fucking Hange.

And speak of the devil, because it is Hange texting their shared group chat, and Levi groans as he goes to open the message. He’d much rather deal with this now rather than wake up to another million texts from them tomorrow.

Four Eyes - 11:43 PM

HEY!!! Are yall free on sunday??? >:D Ik Erwin is but idk abt the rest of you Lets get dinner!! You guys can even pick! Maybe Levi can???? Maybe somewhere fancy?? Like if you were to take a girl out a date? And we should all dress superrrr nice

Suddenly, Levi’s busy on Sunday.

Levi - 11:46 PM

I’m busy on Sunday

Four Eyes - 11:46 PM

HI LEVI!! No you rnt allowed to not go to this Cancel whatever it is youre doing rn

Levi groans.

Levi - 11:47 PM

Why do I have to go?

Four Eyes - 11:47 PM

YOU JUST HAVE TO!! Just trust me B) Plzzzzzzzzz

Levi - 11:49 PM

I said I’m busy

Four Eyes - 11:50 PM

And i say that youre not! Cmonnnn just this once Ill find a way to get you to come no matter what so really all youre doing is making this harder for yourself :T Leviiiiiiiiiiiiii

Ugh. Levi already knows that there’s no stopping Hange in making this happen if they’re so fucking insistent about it, so he might as well accept his fate now.

Levi - 11:52 PM

Fucking fine Just shut the fuck up so we can all go to sleep

Miche - 11:52 PM

What he said

Four Eyes - 11:52 PM

YESS It’ll be lots of fun, dont worry!! You can go to sleep now >:)

So much for being free on Sunday. At least Erwin will be there, and probably Miche too. Levi hasn’t checked in on Moblit in a while, but it’s usually correct to assume that he’s overseas right now for work and that he won’t end up coming.

Levi puts his phone on his nightstand and blinks a few times to adjust his eyes to the dark, and he exasperatedly sighs as he pulls his blanket up further on his body.

Whatever. Hange’s just being their typical annoying, overbearing self, and apparently being even one weekend away from him is enough to bring them to the brink of insanity.

He just needed to get through one dinner: how hard could it be?

Even with all the other shit he's had to deal with on this particular Friday, at least he has her.

After he's closed his eyes and he's left to think of what he'd done throughout the day, his mind wanders back to her, and just the thought seems to lull him to sleep, and just like that, he's off to start dreaming once again.

✰

Next Chapter

[luvwich]

19 & 30 for Valerie andd 32 & 17 for Vania? :3

[from here] thank you for the ask! 💞

(valerie)

[19] are they quick to anger? what sets them off? not quick to anger, but can be quick to get annoyed/bitchy before she catches herself. her triggers tend to be in an interpersonal context, lashing out when she knows she's wrong about something or feels called out. she's a peach lol

[30] do they smell like anything notable? so, i make perfume as my other creative endeavor that drives me to madness and i've spent a lot of time thinking about what personal fragrance is like in 2077! i imagine many of the natural ingredients that are central to perfumery have been wiped off the map; on the other hand, synthetic reconstructions have gotten very good, and there are a bunch of novel aromamolecules that smell like things we can't conceive of yet. the victory of corporations has decimated artisan, small-scale perfumery, but valerie has a custom blended fragrance that she orders from one of the last independent perfumers in paris. it's a reconstruction of bulgarian rose (very jammy and sweet) with cedar, citron, and pink pepper.

(vania)

[32] do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd? she's a bit of a magpie and collects weird little pieces of junk that she thinks are interesting. random shards if they're a shape or color that appeals to her, bits of scrap metal, bullet casings. it's all shoved in a drawer that would give mike hives if he saw it.

[17] how did they spend their summers/free time as a child? when she and her mother were more financially comfortable she'd get to do science camp types of activities and occasionally tag along to a fancy industry event, but she was mostly a nerdy loner indoor kid. once they fell on harder times she started doing odd jobs for pocket change - electronics repair, hacking vending machines for other kids for a reasonable flat fee, even changing peoples' grades or helping them cheat on standardized tests for a much higher fee

[coyotescribbles]

What are you even doing back here?

Neutrino bounced one leg impatiently as she worked her way around the locks on the laboratory doors, carefully slipping through the hidden back door in the code and tripping them from the inside.

Her mother was hiding something, she knew it. The elder femme had always been cagey about her business deals, but she'd been even more secretive than ever lately, and Neutrino wanted - needed to know why.

It gave her a bad feeling, like something cold and sharp coiling around her fuel tank.

And what are you even going to do if you DO find something bad?

You know nobody will ever arrest her.

The keypad turned green, and the door slid open.

Her fuel pump was hammering loud in her audials as she ducked into the lab and made a beeline for her mother's office. If there were records of anything out of place, they would be on the workstation there, she just had to find them - it was easy enough to access, at least, using her mother's login credentials, and from there…

There…

"Lockdown.lib? What…?" She frowned slightly. That one was new, or at least unfamiliar to her…

Chancing it, Neutrino opened the folder.

Inside were thousands of logs and a dozen EXE files, all marked with iteration tags and matched with specific log files.

That sick, cold feeling coiled tighter in her gut.

Before she could open the most recent log, though, she heard the lab doors open. In a flash, she closed out the browser and powered down the workstation, squirrelling herself away underneath the desk only a moment before the laboratory lights came on.

"-think you'll be quite pleased with the most recent findings. This iteration of the virus exceeds all stated specifications in virtual testing."

"Most excellent, yes." The smooth baritone voice that answered her mother's was one she didn't recognize. "Would you say, then, that it's ready to advance to small-scale physical testing?"

Her mother's pedes clicked sharply against the tile floor, followed closely by heavier footsteps.

Neutrino held stock-still, not even daring to breathe.

"Small-scale? You wound me." There was a hint of amusement to her mother's voice as she stepped into the office, and for a sparkbeat Neutrino feared that she would be discovered. But her mother never pulled out the chair, only leaned over the desk to power up the workstation, none the wiser to her daughter's presence. "You could deploy this on an industrial scale and see a functionally one hundred percent success rate. I am nothing if not thorough."

"Are you absolutely certain of that?"

"I would bet my spark on it." Neutrino heard the telltale click of a datachip being inserted into a drive, followed a moment later by its ejection. "Deploy this, and Cybertron will be on its knees within solar cycles. We'll have it all in the palms of our hands by the end of a decacycle."

"You never cease to amaze, my dear Hexxon."

Neutrino's fuel tank curdled, and it was all she could do to hold still and stay silent. Hot beads of duct cleaner welled up beneath her optics, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her panicked whimper. What had her mother done?

"I never cease to amaze myself," Hexxon laughed. "Now, as for the matter of my payment…"

"Ah, yes, that." The stranger replied, with the sound of fingers snapping - a sound followed by the faint hum of antigrav repulsors. "I believe this will suffice as down payment."

"No offense, my dear, but I don't need more lab assistants-"

Her mother's voice choked off suddenly, and Neutrino felt the chill in her gut begin to spread.

Something crunched, and her mother screamed, and Neutrino clapped both hands over her audials, curling in on herself as if that could block out the sounds of violence occurring only meters away.

"You shall be the first stone laid to build my empire," the stranger boasted, "thank you for your dedicated service, but your usefulness to me has reached its end."

The screaming stopped.

And something hit the floor with a heavy clatter.

And still Neutrino didn't move or make a sound, even as the tears streamed freely down her face.

And then she heard the laboratory door open a second time.

"Hexxon, love, I hate to interrupt your work-"

Her father's voice was cut short by the sharp rapport of a blaster bolt, and this time she couldn't stifle the sob that escaped her throat, even as her energon turned to ice in her fuel lines and her EM field prickled at the brush of scanners.

Without thinking, she lunged forward, knocking the chair over in her mad scramble to yank the office's vent cover open and clamber inside before she could be grabbed - or worse.

More blaster bolts followed, peppering the office wall and narrowly missing her legs as she vanished into the comfortingly enclosed confines of the vents. Someone was shouting somewhere behind her, but she did her best to block out the noise and tamp down the panic that seized her.

What was she supposed to do now?

There was only one thing she could think to do.

Run.

[usafphantom2]

RAF Typhoons participate in large-scale international exercise in Qatar

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 28/11/2023 - 15:58in Military

Typhoon fighters of the XI Squadron (Hunting) of the British Royal Air Force (RAF) participated in a major international exercise in Qatar.

The exercise known as Ferocious Falcon V involved forces from Qatar, France, Italy, Turkey and the United States. The RAF Coningsby Base Typhoons also joined elements of the 1º Scottish Guard Battalion and HMS Lancaster.

The exercise led by Qatar was designed to bring together partner forces to increase combat efficiency and increase unity. The exercise also strengthens the bonds of friendship, support for joint action and the exchange of experiences with these countries.

The Captain of the Bishop Group accepts a gift from the Qatar Emirates Air Force

Elements of Qatar's land, naval and air forces participated in the exercise. The goal of the emirate of Qatar was for all military personnel from the participating countries to gain experience on the ground and strengthen international relations through cooperation in various missions.

“This exercise provided greater exposure to our allies in the Extended Middle East, facilitating advanced training and integration. The small deployment of specialized pilots and engineers provided 100% exercise mission completion rates and the opportunity to work closely with international allies was invaluable," said Squadron Leader Hodgkinson, Commander of Squadron XI (F). "Squad XI (F) Squadron, like the rest of the Typhoon Force, is ready to project air combat around the world. We completed the Bersama Lima Exercise in Malaysia and then returned to the Middle East for this exercise, reflecting the agility and resilience that the squadron and aircraft offer".

The RAF Typhoons flying from a Qatari air base conducted Defensive Counter-Air training with the other nations participating in the exercise. Qatar is an important defense partner of the United Kingdom and currently two joint squadrons of the RAF - United Arab Emirates Air Force operate based in the United Kingdom.

Tags: Military AviationEurofighter TyphoonQatar Air ForceRAF - Royal Air Force/Royal Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has work published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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