#also happy with dan's expression and the perspective!

[heliojart]

danny you've got a big storm comin'....

reaniweek day 1: post-canon!

[bignarfworld]

Since some of you guys we're having a ball with the "Shintaro makes the kagepro music canon" i decided to give more examples of songs that he made and what inspired him

Hibiya tells him about his experience in a time loop himself, Shintaro really sympathized with him and made Kagerou Daze based on what Hibiya told him

Konoha's State of the World is based on the few things Haruka could remember while trapped in the daze and looking at things through Konoha's eyes (Shintaro misses Konoha too, not as much as Hibiya but he still does)

Jinzou Enemy is one of the hardest ones he had to do, but he felt like he needed to make it, he wants to put into words and tell Takane what he did to her in one of the routes (Route XX) because he earnestly believes she deserves to know his failures. So he writes a song in Ene's perspective and how she ended

Children Record is the one he had a blast doing because he has immense respect for the Mekakushi Dan and he wanted to make something in homage to the gang

After a heart to heart with Marry where he tells her he misses his father sometimes and Marry reciprocates by telling him how much she misses her mother, he writes Gunjou Rain and ACTUALLY sings and plays it to her with a guitar on a day where she's feeling really down and longs for Shion (and it's raining). She BAWLED her eyes out not just from the raw emotion but also because it was INSANELY GOOD and it's one of the few moments where Shintaro grows some balls and goes his way to comfort one of his friends. He taught Seto the lyrics and he sings it as a lullaby for Marry once in a while

At some point he kinda opens up a bit about his music to his closer friends (namely Ayano, Takane, Haruka and Seto) and they're all in shock at how absurdly talented Shintaro is as a composer, singer, lyricist, producer and etc. and they're mesmerized with how much heart he puts into each song as his way of showing affection to the people close to him. He makes Additional Memory alongside Ayano (she came up with the lyrics)

Shissou Word was made as a gift for Kido, but he never let her saw it because he thought the other members of the mekadan would find him weird for, you know, writing songs out of their past. Yuukei Quartet makes up his mind and he ends up playing to her eventually (she loved it)

Remind Blue kinda comes out after he puts together what he knows from the mekadan's members backstories into a song

Summertime Record is where he puts his entire heart and soul and sweat into a song, he wanted to write a song that sounded like a happy ending to the mekadan AND Haruka in specific. He loves the guy, he's one of his best friends, and he wanted to write something that made him feel comtemplated and praise him for enduring so much. It's the last song he goes his way to actually sing to someone else (in this case Haruka), Shintaro couldn't help but tear up through the whole song, but it was the "Remember, it's all over. Our secret base, our adventure..."/The story of getting lost in that day part that made his voice crack while singing, barely holding it together while singing to him and not crying

Just like i said in the previous one: the thing with Shintaro is that he sucks with trying to be direct with his emotions so he makes music to express how much he apreciates his friends even if he's blunt and and asshole sometimes (once Shintaro Kisaragi, always Shintaro Kisaragi)

[creetch]

I really do hope Sunday joins the Nameless. I think putting him on that train would help him heal from Everything

Also I wanna see him get involved in the Trailblaze Trio's shenanigans so bad

I agree! I really think he'd get along with Dan Heng, also I don't think March would give him a moment of peace either which would be so funny to watch lol I need to see her call him every single day of the week apart from Sunday

I have a lot of new thoughts about Astral Express Sunday that I want to put into a big post, but I also haven't had the time to as of yet because of work

To be brief about how I feel, I've been thinking about it a whole lot and one of the things I love most is how the members of the Express are reborn in a way which ties very well into Sunday's character.

Dan Heng doesn't want to be associated with the actions of his prior incarnation and is following a new path with the crew, March 7th doesn't know her past but is happy to travel with the express and live as she is now learning more about herself along the way, Welt comes from another world entirely and is now treading a new path in his current universe, the Trailblazer has had their memories wiped by Kafka and are discovering themselves aboard the Express, and Himeko started this all by paving the way for members of the Express to move forward via fixing the train. Sunday moving forward from his past and joining the Express really fits in with the crew, and even Dan Heng himself told him not to be shackled by the past, something he would really understand

Also the 'you have a noble soul...' ;_;

Sunday can't go back to the way things were prior to the Penacony storyline, that's over. His entire life has changed. The life he lived before is gone. He has no option but to move forward towards a new future which is exactly what he can do with the Express.

Robin has been able to travel to other planets, meet a wide array of people and form her view on the world based on those experiences. It's one reason why they have such differing viewpoints. Meanwhile, Sunday has been caged in the Dreamscape, rarely venturing into reality (as we see Robin encouraging him to please spend more time in reality in one of her letters) and the only views he was exposed to since childhood were that of Gopher Wood who had a vested interest in shoving the teachings of Order on him the moment he noticed his uncertainty, his kindness and his hatred of suffering, and pinpointed this as a weakness. This is especially evident when Sunday says, about the Dove, that he wants the bird to live 'no matter what'.

Joining the Express would give Sunday the chance to really experience reality. It fits into the idea of him being the bird that can't fly - what better way to spread his wings than with them? With how his reply to Robin saying they were meant to fly into the sky together was 'If only... I could...' him joining the crew would make me actually cry like a fucking baby lol

It would give him the chance to travel to various worlds just as Robin has, to meet different people with different perspectives on life, and then decide for himself what he believes based on his own life experiences and not on the grooming of his adoptive father. If it is a Paradise he wishes for, and he says he still wants to achieve that goal at the end of 2.3, then maybe he'll find one in travelling to help others.

I still really believe that the Death of a Crow readable is from Elio about Sunday, however knowing that Elio and the rest of the Hunters try to aid the Express, and with Firefly calling them the dark to the Astral Express's light, I wouldn't be surprised if the poem itself was about Sunday joining the Astral Express instead of the Stellaron Hunters. Elio's aim is to support the Express, so him pushing Sunday towards joining the Express would be in line with the Stellaron Hunters and what they've always done throughout the story - provided us with their help.

Sunday has had rebirth themes around him for such a long time now that him totally changing outfit and walking a new path to travel the stars when he's only ever been stuck in the Dreamscape, now being able to create a new life for himself, would be very fitting. Sunday's lightcone animation has him saying 'the end is also the beginning', along with the description for his sticker which also points towards rebirth.

ALSO the whole fallen angel rebirth thing, etcetera etcetera, right down to Jade offering him a deal that's super comparable to the forbidden fruit, but that's pretty clear, yet I thought I'd throw it in there

In my opinion, the Astral Express would welcome him. They thought he was trying to resurrect Ena at first, but they then realised he wanted to create a world without suffering. He was also willing to listen to what the Astral Express had to say, and I really think he would welcome them challenging his views. I do believe they'd welcome him with open arms, as someone who is willing to move on from his past.

Also Sunday talks about the Trailblaze like this

So there's that too

I... really want this to happen lol. And I'm so happy current leaks point very strongly towards it

[buskingalbatross]

what's the one sink you can't ship? (things to do when you have come home for the day, showered, eaten, and fallen into disrepair: analyze danandphilcrafts - slime (2024) and the context of its coming to be)

or, basically, because let's be real: this is where I extol the de facto vintage princes of the internet, who have cultivated and continue to cultivate a form of video-making and community-building that is utterly novel, radiant, and defiant.

*:･ﾟ✧

one of the best things the internet has ever done is given the coolest insanest introverts the chance to be loud and be loved. to have the chance to catalogue their lives in intimate (yet distant) association with other like-minded people, and to express themselves and their perspective on the world. for Dan and Phil, what it's led to, its culmination, has been the creation of an empowered queer subculture that is deeply invested in the concept of queer devotion—the complex forms it can take, its numinous inexpressible sacredness—and that is actively, through knowing and experience of that devotion's existence, in rebellion against the extractive, unkind, unfeeling, oft-oppressive society that reigns as normative.

the experience in the world of Dan and Phil, in contrast to many experiences had in the "real" world, has always been one that's felt intensely emotional, rebellious, existential, free, full of kindness, and full of laughter and love. at the heart of dnp's community, the string tying us together, is the massive mythology and plethora of lore of dan and phil's history beginning at the point where it converged because they met. as well as the idea of two people who are as close as two humans can get to each other. the beauty inherent in that.

the relationship Dan and Phil share has for many years been the axis around which their channels, their tours, and other projects have rotated. their being able to chronicle that relationship through the internet, through youtube, and for that relationship to be, in hindsight, purely, amazingly, and even unapologetically queer from the very start, is something profoundly meaningful and artistic in and of itself.

I find it intensely amusing and, frankly, compelling, that while the phandom has become self-aware of the ridiculousness inherent in yelling about two human beings having even momentary physical contact, we cannot stop ourselves from doing it. because it feels powerful and magical and terribly unshackling. touching has become symbolic. symbolic of an amalgam of the best things about what it means to follow Dan and Phil: to be free and connected and queer, openly, and to trust in each other to be there for one other in a world that is often in opposition to people like us.

Dan and Phil holding hands for their audience to see in DanAndPhilCRAFTS - Slime in front of baphomet has to do with all the things so many wonderful people have said it has to do with: acceptance and actualization of queerness, an image of queer power, allying oneself with the other to showcase alignment against cisheteronormative society, a representation of dysfunctional, obsessive, hedonistic, codependent queer love.

And it also has to do with freedom, defiance, happiness, and confidence. It has to do with making something only legible to a niche audience of people that Dan and Phil care a great deal about, because it is fun and exciting and insanely cool. It is about embracing and celebrating the magic that flows, the creativity that flows, between two incredible queer human beings.

Sometimes I think that at least a small part of the reason We're All Doomed exists is because of the way dark things stand out on a light background. The horrors seem stark, more overwhelmingly apparent, when bumped up against great love. Injustice and catastrophe are sometimes more startling and distressing when you are privileged enough to live outside of those things, when what you return home to at the end of the day is comfort, safety, and love. In a similar way, the themes of devotion and love are often heightened in horror narratives. In this sense, Slime is also one ideal medium for sharing a story that is especially impactful to the phandom, one about Dan and Phil's relationship to each other and their community and the ongoing story of their creative lives on YouTube. The themes of love and trust stand out because of the horror, and are heightened further by the intentionality of the storyline and the control Dan and Phil exert over the plot.

what's the one sink you cannot ship? a line from Phil just after Dan says, during their slime crafting, that creativity is nothing without friendship. An inverted paradox of a line. A mystery to be solved, a thread not to be untethered, a parody of itself, a hint to a history. All belonging to all of us, all part of us.

tldr: no one is doing it like them

[revserrayyu]

2.2 Penacony thoughts [part 4]

**Spoiler warning** as we are nearing the very end of the story. Discussing on everything that happens once we wake up after the first boss fight until right before we enter the Horizon of Existence with Acheron. Do look away if you haven’t reached that place yet.

Ma’am, what do you mean by this??

Here I am, wandering around reality all confused, and yet the game still has the audacity to make jokes!

I thought Boothill was just being silly, but if Dan Heng also forgot, then it must be serious. Then I remembered there was one occasion last patch where we also forgot about Acheron’s name when talking to Welt. Or Himeko. I don’t recall which parent it was but we were near Clockie’s statue at the time.

So I saw Ratio, Topaz and Aventurine chatting with each other from afar and thought nothing of it, only to finally realize after our beloved gambler greeted us that YES it has indeed been a while because he was SUPPOSEDLY DEAD and he CLEARLY ISN’T ANYMORE, THANK GOD! I believed he was gonna be fine, thanks to Ratio’s advice and the fact Aventurine stated he wasn’t going to join his family yet, but then hearing Topaz’s call with Jade and how the Aventurine Cornerstone lost its light made me doubt his status just a little bit, but overall I’m so happy to see our man alive and well. I just wish.. it happened differently? I was expecting this grand reunion cutscene after his death-defying performance and he just.. shows up in the hotel with a completely normal interaction.

That is a whole lotta words, honey, but good for you I guess?

Screwllum jump-scare, also accompanied by lots of words that my mind can’t focus on right now.

… Pardon me? No. Surely not. We still have a whole other patch to get through after this, Welt! Needless to say, at this point in the story, confusion was at an all time high and Penacony’s story was beginning to lose its luster for me because the “ending” didn’t feel like a true conclusion.

Despite the unsatisfying feeling, we indeed arrive back on the Express. It has been a long while since we had a good adventure with our fellow Nameless. I hope he can join us fully in the next planet. Surely he would keep us from getting in trouble.

I feel like this comment isn’t only because we’re the main character, but also because as the player, we were able to view different people’s perspectives aside from the Trailblazer’s.

Is this a date? Sounds like a date. Regardless, I accept!

I can’t believe they actually had credits rolling. It’s giving Argenti trailer flashbacks and they’re really making it seem like this is the end of Penacony. Worth noting that March and Acheron’s real names aren’t listed while Welt and Aventurine’s are.

What the fuck do you mean?? For real though, hearing this after having one of the easiest boss fights of my life is a bit reassuring because I just knew something wasn’t quite right about all this!

Black Swan then retells the whole journey to us, from start to finish while asking us to pick out the one flaw in the whole story, which just so happens to be us running into Misha in the hotel’s lobby. He’s a major flaw that contradicts all other information in the story because that moment shouldn’t have been real. As for much recent occurrences, they don’t appear to be reality either because.. we have yet to actually wake up.

Still within the dream, we experience some deja vu because isn’t this exactly what Acheron says to us the very first time we meet her in 2.0?

Well aren’t you just a splendid little cheat code. No wonder the “Dreammaster” wanted to kick you out of Penacony.

So because we able to realize that seeing Misha in reality was an illusion, we were spared from being trapped like so many other residents of Penacony. I’m honestly surprised how many twists and turns this story can keep introducing to us when we’re so close to the story’s ending, but it’s impressive.

Robin realized there was a flaw in her dream too, which just so happened to be the flashback of her and Sunday finding the injury bird. Apparently that illusion was too blissful to be true? Wild.

We then found out that this fancy little bullet is the relic that Acheron had to return to its rightful owner.

Posing as a Galaxy Ranger to get a real one’s attention so they (Boothill) can properly use the relic in the next stage of the plan is a surprising move from Acheron. Who knew she could play 3d chess.

Firefly deserves some credit too, naturally, since it’s due to her that everyone was able to find us and understand the key to breaking free of this endless dream. By following Elio’s script, one is bound to have a knack of planning ahead and carrying out perfectly timed moves.

The end of Penacony is near but the fact it might actually come at the cost of that precious girl’s life ain’t bringing me much joy!

Last part coming up next and yet there’s still so much to chat about aaahh..

[lesbicona]

why is season 6 of community your favourite /genq im just curious !! :]

the short answer is frankie

the long answer is: im very particular about endings, not in that i need them to have specific qualities (like sad or happy or epilogue-esque or what have you) but in that i need them to have narrative intent. we came close to living in a universe where basic story and basic sandwich closed community's story, and as much as i do genuinely like those episodes (mostly for comedy reasons), i only like them in the context of the full show we have now. i was not old enough to appreciate the show as it aired, but looking back i can see opinions at the time of the ending were divided. season 5 in general, honestly, seems close to season 4 in people's minds- in the post you're referencing where i expressed this opinion, season 5 received literally 0 votes. season 4 is controversial, but season 5 commits a worse sin- it's forgettable. (and i do like it, i really liked prof hickey which is truly a take on this webbed site, but this is my impression of the public opinion of it).

so in just existing, season 6 elevates my personal opinion of the show, but i mentioned public opinion in the paragraph prior because season 6 often gets lumped in with 4 and 5 as 'bad'. now while i have my own set of takes about even just season 4 (really guys, it's fine, it's just an ok season of tv in an excellent show, but it's not BAD) i will try very hard not to get into here, it is an objective divide between the widely acclaimed seasons 1 through 3 and the more controversial rest. my opinions of season 6 are very influenced by this, because it's like my little meow meow i must protect from the haters.

i feel season 6 closes up the themes of community, as evolved and changed as they are, in a satisfying way, and gives the characters themselves a logical narrative end. i especially enjoyed the themes of growing up continued from season 5, which are very pressing in a show about college. of course i realize this is a silly sitcom we're talking about, so i'm not saying that it put forward anything groundbreakingly subtle or even new, but any long-running show (especially one which could not keep the entirety of its main cast) that can wrap up so satisfyingly deserves praise.

and yet, because of the season 4 hurdle, which leaves many people with a bad taste in their mouth for the rest of the entire show, it is not as acclaimed as i think it deserves to be. i don't think people realize how much the show was probably going to change in season 4 even without dan harmon's departure. the idealized season 4 in people's minds seems to be season 3 part 2, which could not have happened for a successful season of television. seasons 1 through 3 are all already very different from each other despite being clumped together. yet people despise every single change to the show from season 4 onward indiscriminately. so of course season 6, with its many, many changes, is so far from season 3 that people blinded by the latter's glory cannot even see the former.

but most if not all of the changes season 6 brings are purely beneficial in my perspective. frankie and elroy are excellent additions to the cast; they are great comedic forces, with a strong role in relation to the others. they both play the almost-straight man jeff used to be, normal in reaction to most of the shenanigans of the original cast while bringing in their own insanity. they also represent the aging of the show. by bringing them in instead of, for example, freshmen students, the new, more grown perspective of the show is reinstated. the bits of their lives outside the committee that we get to see are interesting, funny, and bring them depth.

of course in particular im fond of frankie, who's normal to the point of pathology, whose line deliveries have a 90% chance of obliterating me on the spot, and who is just like me fr fr (a lesbian). she does not budge in her responsibilities, leading to her fluctuating role in the eyes of the cast, antagonist in some episodes and co-lead in others. her presence adds something new for each character to compare themselves to, for the better. in particular, annie, jeff and the dean are all improved because of her.

britta also receives some focus she hadn't since a few seasons past, and while i do not agree with the narrative framing of all of it (as clearly the show itself does not side with her in disliking her parents, as much as she, as a character, has proper reason to), the contents are extremely enjoyable to me. getting a chance to analyze the wannabe-therapist's relationship with her parents is perfectly ironic just as a concept.

season 6 offers some of my favorite comedy of the whole show. while my favorite line forever remains "i need help reacting to this" (which i saw you also enjoy <3), i was in tears of laughter at the end of a majority of season 6 episodes on my first watch. elroy's addiction to encouraging white people is absolutely unforgettable.

sorry for the Whole Fucking Essay! the medium answer, which you unlocked by reading the long answer, is: though perhaps not the objective best community has to offer, i love season 6 twice as fiercely to protect it from its undeserving haters. stan frankie, bring me 6 cans of olives, goodbye.

[almea]

I thought the 2.3 story would be longer than it was because of the trailer, but I think it was a good length, especially after the monster that was 2.2.

I fucking CRIED that Dan Heng's dream was just for the five of them to continue travelling on the Express together forever. Between this and his line in 2.2 about his companions being "once-in-a-lifetime treasures" he is truly the softest boy. I read a fic where I think Himeko told Dan Heng that he could travel with the Express for as long as he wanted, and he thought to himself that he wanted to stay forever, but "forever" means something different to him than it does to the others, and that line has lived in my heart ever since and these last two versions have really shown how that author really nailed the part of Dan Heng that loves the crew so much.

I love the jokes about how trigger happy Dan Heng is with the Jade Abacus in 2.2, but I do also think it's very sweet and a little sad because it feels like his desire to keep the crew safe can get very desperate and frantic. It's also feels like the only reason Dan Heng seems so cool and levelheaded all the time is because he usually has to keep March and Stelle from going too crazy, but when they're gone he's just like. No thoughts, head empty, if I get even an inkling that they're in trouble I am going to make the most reckless choices I can in the moment to protect them and it's all anyone can do to try to stop me.

It's so fucking sad???? That no one knows what exactly happened with Gallagher. Like, Siobhan doesn't know what happened to her friend. This is a crime!! I don't know if we're ever going to see him again in the future, but if we do, I will cry. I didn't really have any thoughts about Misha or Gallagher in 2.0 or 2.1, and then 2.2 happened and now I'm in tears every time either of them are mentioned in the story lmao.

Seeing Stelle be an absolute gremlin who's being babysat by March and Dan Heng from Firefly's perspective was such a treat. She's so unhinged and it was like. Ah yes. This is exactly how I act when I'm playing the game. Opening every chest I see, looking for birds, breaking every destructible item. Getting to hear more of Stelle's voice was also a blessing and a gift.

The last cutscene was soooo beautiful. I loved the shots of everyone in Penacony. It just feels like such a nice way to wrap things up.

And the Firefly and Stelle parts, oh my god. Stelle praying for Firefly's to be okay was so cute. I wasn't expecting that and they just hit me with Stelle looking so adorable. And then Firefly princess carrying Stelle?? First with Sam and then without it?? In that moment Firefly really decided she was the hero of the story and Stelle was the heroine. I just love them so much. Seeing them so happy and relieved together made me so happy too.

There is something there about Stelle first entering the dream by falling from the sky and crash landing, and then ending the story flying through the sky and going even higher with Firefly.

And then they go from that to stabbing me in the heart with the final goodbyes in Penacony. I just. I'm so fond of the Penacony Trailblazers and seeing how the crew honours them was so sweet. I love that Razalina was the one writing those messages in the Dreamscape Pass because that means she's kind of been with us since the beginning. I want to believe we'll get to learn more about her one day, maybe in a Penacony Trailblaze Continuance. I saw a theory that she's Black Swan that was pretty compelling, so Black Swan temporarily travelling with the crew has potential.

I can't believe they made Acheron's farewell skippable. I can't believe there was an option to just go back to the train without saying goodbye to her. I picked the second option first because I thought the sentiment of "If that was the first time we met, then the next time we meet will be a reunion" was very sweet, but I went back and picked the first option afterwards because I figured it was going to be an Impact 3rd reference and I wanted to see it even if I wouldn't really Get It. I wasn't expecting the scene to be so much longer and so touching, with not one but two absolutely beautiful CGs of Acheron. And they made it skippable.

All the new visitor unlocks popping up one after the other after finishing the story was so funny. Especially Sparkle because, girl, you just gave everyone a heart attack because of your bomb threat and then you invited yourself onto the train???? And then I read her text messages, cried hysterically, and was like, okay, you can come visit whenever you want.

When Sparkle created the illusions of the Stellaron Hunters in Acheron's trailer, I had the thought that maybe my dumb theory that they were the ones who hired her to come to Penacony had a chance of being true, but I assumed it was Elio who hired her because she had a part in the script, but no! It was Silver Wolf! Silver Wolf, who was just worried about her friend and wanted to take measures to keep her as safe as possible! I always believed Silver Wolf was secretly very soft for the people she loves beneath all her attitude and I was right!

Silver Wolf and Sparkle being gaming friends is so random and I love it. It's this version's "Blade has a driver's license" for me. I can't believe they dropped this lore on me without adding new voice lines for them about each other. I'm holding out hope for the future…

My mono-Quantum team is Qingque, her boss, Silver Wolf, and her gaming buddy. It's so perfect.

[tutuandscoot]

Can you talk about how Scott's dancing changed when VM moved to IAM from Canton?

LONG POST AHEAD

I sure can!!

I’ve wanted to do a post for so long about more generally how they changed during the comeback bc I think it’s so fascinating. But I’ll focus on this part of it for now.

This is just my feelings and speculation and thoughts on what they’ve said so don’t take any of this as pure fact.

Comparing environments: Canton/MTL

I can only make presumptions on the training environment in Canton based on limited footage (I take the stupid show with about 15 grains of salt) but it just feels like there was less of a safe environment to explore and create- for them at least with the intimate nature of their chemistry and storytelling, it seemed very technical and competitive (in a way that wasn’t the most conductive for creative expression in the way MTL was). A number of things may have contributed to this; them being younger and growing up in that environment from juniors to seniors- so not being the top team when they arrived, (coming to MTL, even being away from comps 2 years it was like ‘the goats’ have arrived and they got to contribute immensely to that being a really positive and creative environment pushing everyone to be their best). The coaching style in Canton (they’ve said M+I were strict.. Russians so its on par), a lot of teams were training there but also it seems other skaters as well from other disciplines, their perspective through that 10-14 quad, T’s injuries,having to prioritise her health, etc. Also with different training environments often you don’t know that there is better or something that is better suited to you out there till you leave your current school, so I’m sure for a long time they were really happy and felt they were thriving.. until they weren’t and often you realise too late.. (they have kinda talked about that in their book. From Tessa.. it’s quite confronting to hear her say that she really didn’t want to go for the 2014 games at one point because she had lost almost all faith in Marina.. desperately want more info on all of that). With Marie and Patch now it was so obvious what a safe and nurturing little circle of trust they had with them (literally their circle of trust at every comp) and when Tessa says when they came back they wanted to be with people who truly loved them.. i think that shows. They could go out and do what they loved together and the people they would see immediately before and after they knew loved them, that would give him (both of them)���. that matters a lot when you are putting your heart on the line. TS do that for each other, but knowing they had people who would loved them no matter what supporting and encouraging their vulnerability would’ve meant everything to them, Scott getting very choked up at his hometown star speech talking to Patch about how much he had done for him.. i think that tells you everything about the role model and male confidant Scott needed and forget dance but just as a person he evolved so much.

Skating style and gender roles

With the comeback them moving away from more traditional in hold skating a bit as well as more traditional ice dance styles (ballroom) there was much more space for them to explore movement both together and apart in complementary to each other. He was always fabulous in that leading man role throughout.. really all their programs, probably Pink Floyd being an obvious exemption and to an extent Carmen (but largely still that male/female dynamic with a lot of in-hold partnering) but in their comeback programs (latch/prince) it wasn’t so much reliant on the fact they were male and female, they were just two people dancing, which allowed them to really explore how they can convey a relationship that isn’t constrained by gender identity for the necessity of the story. I’m sure it was scary for him, having always grown up dancing next to Tessa and being compared to her, the thing with traditional styles is you are dancing with each other, not so much next to each other, so now really choreographically and as adults exploring that.. still always dancing WITH each other but choreographically more separate-and not always unison moments. He just seemed more relaxed, I don’t want to say he was self conscious before the comeback but there was just a slight more stiffness in him in the canton days, where as comeback it felt as though he (both of them actually) were just freely moving. On the matter. Of gender roles, i don’t know if this was something they considered/discussed/wanted to explore in especially Latch, but I love watching it that way. Latch is so obviously their story- their actual story told as so emotionally raw with incredibly painful moments as well as jubilation. None of that in the abstract way they are telling it relies on the fact they are opposite genders- it is just about two humans who need each other and have gone through everything together. Only choreographically in the sense of lifts does it become occupationally obvious it is a man and a woman. Whether they ever did explore that (not literally exploring gender fluidity but unlike FF or MR or SFTD where the relationship they where portraying was a heterosexual one, the emotions in Latch are genderless).. anyway,, thats for another post.

Becoming the dancers they always wanted to be

In Canton, specifically after 2010 they’ve said they felt they had to be the team everyone wanted them to be but now in MTL they could just be themselves, their true, pure emotions were able to come through their movement rather than trying to fit a mould, which is ironic since IAM started developing a bit of a mould and style which makes it hard for teams to differentiate themselves- but even if VM were skating now I don’t think that would happen to them, they stood out no matter what even with compulsories.

Dance training

The way they have discussed their training in MTL it seams they weren’t doing as much ballet - i can’t recall them saying they did but i’m sure they did do some occasionally, instead they were working with Sam a lot with hip hop through their pro career pre-comeback and as they returned, during 2017/18 they worked with their ballroom person (Gigi?), then I’m sure there was some contemporary in there as well.. i know we all like to keep record of everything they’ve shared (on socials) and think thats exactly all that happens but theres A LOT that they didn’t share (how could they possibly share all of it) so just because we didn’t see stuff.. they worked 6 days a week about 11 months a year they can’t share everything so the record painted on social media is not a comprehensive one. I don’t know their full training schedule obviously but all these things would be in there and be essential to them. Then of course intense gym training, Pilates etc.. if they were doing less ballet, pilaties is essentially the next best thing- it works a lot of the same muscles and is specifically a form of exercise that lengthens your body which is what makes great dancers when they are so strong but their lines are to die for (literally ALL -BOTH their lines in Moulin Rogue at the Olys). (I wouldn’t be surprised if Scott ended up doing a lot of Pilates leading up to the olys with the way his lines were perfected).

(Sorry i’ve kinda been talking abut them more generally rather than just Scott but it’s so hard when they are so intwined with each other- i see them as one).

Mental approach and comeback psychology

More than anything though their mindset they took into their comeback was the biggest thing. I know, that shouldn’t have much to do with how his dance ability/style changed.. but its incredibly important. That comeback trailer is incredible because its really them marking their return to the ID world: and under no uncertain terms will they do anything that doesn’t. 100% come from their hearts. “This time its going to be for Us”.. that is everything to me. That is such a powerful and liberating statement. They will only be dancing for themselves and each other. Once you let go of the idea that you ‘should’ do this for someone else or for some other reason that doesn’t align with your values, you dance lighter and with less tension. Thats why they thrived- because while they were dong this for each other, it wasn’t because they felt they ‘should’ be doing it. T’s injures in 2009/2010 essentially left her as having to keep fighting for Scott, she didn’t really have a choice- she didn’t give herself that choice, even though she wanted it just as much..there was a matter of having to do it despite the pain she was in. Now… one of the most powerful things about their partnership is they didn’t have to worry so much about wanting it for themselves, looking after themselves in that respect, because they are doing that whole heartedly for each other- they were protecting and nurturing each other’s dreams, so even on the hardest days.. when they may not have the power to do it for themselves, they will always do it for each other. 😭😭😭

Specific dance notes

I don’t know if he could’ve done Prince anytime before the comeback. I think he needed that freedom to shake off his exquisite ballroom/leading man/Fred Astire-esk persona he always had through all their previous competitive programs so he could really just groove and let go, while of course maintaining beautiful posture, charisma, and being the best partner in the world. Latch I would say some of his arm lines could’ve been better. I will forever be mad at him for always rolling the sleeves up on his costume because it made him look like he was wearing a boys’ ballet exam unitard with half sleeves. At the first two competitions i felt his arm lines were much better but it might have been the full length sleeves. He could’ve stretched though his hands a bit more, this was the same pre-comeback for a while he would often hold tension in his hands (go watch Valse Triste at 2007 worlds and MR olys and watch his beautiful balletic hand lines.. in between these times they sometimes got a bit unfinished) either in a tight almost fist position or sometimes too energised in a splade-finger/jazz hands position. Its very hard to see from a distance but its those small things i pick up on. This remained both throughout MR until really Nationals and then the olys his hands were STUNNING.. i don’t know what he did to fix it but omg just about any picture from the olys THAT MAN HAS THE EXTENSIONS OF A BALLERINA AND I LOVE HIM FOR THAT!! (Sometimes i thought i could see at the boards as he often did his lil bouncy squat warm up, Marie gently placing her hands on top of his and idk but i can just picture her working tirelessly with him getting to release the tension in his hands.. i like the thought of that so i’m gonna go with it). I also found he had a bit of tension in his posture through the comeback year that (almost) immediately went away by their return for the oly season. I put this down to an obvious change in his physicality- he became more broad and muscular in his back- before this he always had a more petite frame. Just that change and getting use to dancing with a different figure can take time- this may have contributed to his shaky twizzles in 16/17. It wasn’t anything bad but just between 16/17 and 17/18 it was something i noticed. His acting had always been exquisite.. really from Funny Face onwards. I will defend that program till my dying day it did wonders for both of them but especially him- where Carmen was T’s break out role Funny Face was his. From there on every heavily characterised program (Carmen, DALD, MR) he was spectacular. I love at GPF 2013 after the SD the besp uncles say ‘you could take him straight to HollyWood’ becuase he is so natural and genuine and never once distracts from Tessa. That kind of performance confidence he carried through every single program they ever did after that. Latch isn’t a program you would say is a “acting” heavy program.. but the emotion he exudes both through movement and expressively legitimately makes me cry. I can’t help myself i bring it up every time but the outside stuff he was dealing with that season.. I don’t know if he did or not but using that deep emotion in their performances.. inevitably, he is such a beautifully emotionally available person i’m sure it was there a bit, and although it was awful for him (and Tessa did such a wonderful job of looking after him), took Latch from a stunning, modern free dance to a heart achingly beautiful human experience playing out on an ice rink. That kind of connection with deep, real emotion i feel was his moment of release of any, even unconsciously self imposed constraints he had on himself as a dancer. He took that through next season to MR and… i mean he is undoubtably one of the most exquisite male performers (specifically dancers) i have ever seen.

So more and more, at this highest of high levels they reached by the end but were always at compared to the rest of the field since they won in 2010 (i will confidently argue watching worlds 2007, they have best performance and pure dance quality of any team there- doesn’t mean they should’ve won, but their burning talent was clear as day, they just had to wait for everyone else to realise it and the scoring to catch up to them), their technique they trained so hard for everyday and were never satisfied, that was brilliant, they are brilliant dancers. Specifically brilliant ice dancers- off ice is very different because their lower bodies are trained to do completely different coordination/steps on the ice. So no i would not be throwing them onstage with the Royal Ballet corps, but in their own right, in their own unique way they are incredible and the best in their SPORT. They both improved immensely through every stage of their career but for Scott especially, the sweet little darling just wanted to always do his best for his best friend and never let her down. He wanted to be the best partner he could for her. Dance was not something he trained specifically for at a young age like T had so that was his thing to work 10 times as hard at.. probably as he would say just to not look bad next to her, but in his own way became this stunning artist who had a way with expressing movement that moved you like nothing else.. i hope he knows how special he is in that respect.

[yanawildstar]

Duit Raya. Bukan Duit zakat. It’s not a must. It’s a gift for the little ones.

$2, $4, $5.

Tak cukup. Just because dulu 1998 and now, it is 2024.

Masa dah berubah. Value pun dah lain.

Orang marah bila si pemberi memberi Anak Anak duit sebanyak Itu sahaja.

Hmm.

Anak Anak ni tak tahu nilai duit. Diaorg cuma berasa happy bila dapat duit Raya. Tak kira berapa jumlahnya. Sebab setahun sekali macam dapat gaji, hahaha.

As parents, Kita lah yg kena didik anak tentang bersyukur. Bersyukur walaupun menerima $1 atau tak dapat pun. Sebab duit Raya bukan lah yg Wajib.

Apa makna sebalik sambutan Eid? Untuk dapat kan duit Hari Raya? Untuk beli baju baru? Untuk cantik kan rumah? Or makna sebenarnya adalah kemenangan atas melawan nafs dan terus mencuba untuk menjadi yg lebih baik?

Kita nak marah sebab orang beri Anak Kita hanya $2, $4, $5 sebab times are different now. Tapi Kita tak tanya ke whether yg memberi tu mungkin ada masalah. Mungkin dalam kesusahan tapi tetap ikhlas nak membahagiakan Kanak kanak. Tak nak menghampakan Anak Anak. Jangan selfish.

Ajar Anak Anak Kita tentang nilai sambutan Hari Raya. Tentang silahturahmi. Tentang bersyukur kerana dapat menyambut Eid dgn selesa dan kemeriahan. Tak macam kanak kanak di Syria dan Palestine. Ajar mereka tentang nilai duit. Walaupun sikit, tapi ALHAMDULLILLAH ALLAH kurnia kan rezeki buat kita dan pemberi. Ajar Anak Kita tentang menghormati si pemberi, mengucapkan terima kasih dan semoga ALLAH memberkati si pemberi. Teach them about mendoakan kebaikan orang lain, for Malaikat akan mengaminkan doa mereka dan mendoakan benda yang sama untuk mereka. Ajar Anak Anak tentang ikhsan. Tentang keikhlasan. Bukan merungut about the amount given. How little they received.

Anak Anak ni innocent. Dia orang tak tahu apa apa, melainkan kita yg mencoraknya.

Nilai duit tak sebesar nilai akhlak. Ada banyak duit tapi kalau takde akhlak, hidup sia sia sahaja.

Kalau punya akhlak yg tinggi, walaupun tak banyak duit, insya ALLAH hidup akan senantiasa diberkati.

Eid is about educating ourselves and our kids. About our jihad during Ramadhan into becoming a better individual. Teach them the Islamic values not the value of money.

As the saying goes, money is often considered the cause of many evils. However, expressing gratitude can lead to much happiness. It helps us appreciate what we already have, rather than focusing on what we lack. It allows us to move forward and avoid getting stuck in negative thoughts or situations. Gratitude also helps us gain a new perspective and see things in a more positive light.

Practice the act of attitude of gratitude. Instead of putting everything on price tags and complaining over petty little things.

Times are different but self-worth should never depreciate in value and be measured with a price. Let’s not raise self-entitled little humans.

Sikit punya hal jangan lah kecoh. $2 pun kalau pergi Value dollar shop dapat beli 3 snickers bars! ALHAMDULLILLAH.

Selamat Hari Raya Maaf Zahir Batin!

Edited. 👇

Ok ok, nak letak additional point: Kalau yg memberi, Insya ALLAH dapat pahala bersedekah. Ibadah yg besar pahalanya dan mampu mengeratkan silaturahim. Mengembirakan kanak- kanak dan orang tua, pahala Dia semacam. Jadi kita rebut peluang pahala bersedekah. Berilah, walaupun sedikit. Another important point is, pemberian duit raya is seen as amalan yang membuka pintu rezeki. Walaupun sikit, pahala Dia Insya ALLAH lebih banyak dan berganda dari yg kita beri.

Allah SWT berfirman: “Katakanlah (wahai Muhammad): Sesungguhnya Tuhanku memewahkan rezeki bagi sesiapa yang dikehendaki-Nya antara hamba-Nya dan Dia juga yang menyempitkan baginya; dan apa sahaja yang kamu dermakan maka Allah akan menggantikannya; dan Dialah jua sebaik-baik pemberi rezeki.” (Saba: 34)

[gcecology]

I recently snagged my partner's thesis and was reading his acknowledgments. They were so great, they were short, pithy, funny. They were so him. Today I pulled down my dissertation and read mine. It reminded me of myself too -- and all the wonderful people, and pups and more, who have supported me along the way. So I thought I would post it here:

I was recently asked to come up advice I would give to other graduate students in ecology. I said ‘find good collaborators and appreciate them.’ The crux of this dissertation is the quality and depth of collaboration and mentoring that has gone into it and I can only write some token of my extreme thanks here.

My advisors, Doug Bolger and Kathy Cottingham have been my most constant and admirable supporters at Dartmouth. They have endured the pain of my fumbling early years here, read the countless grants I wrote to get enough funding for my research, and remained affable and upbeat through to reading manuscripts over and over. I thank Doug especially for sharing his study system in San Diego with me and still have many vivid memories of the first day (post-cross country flight) in the field with him. He has provided me with perspective, humor and a firm grounding in conservation science. To Kathy I extend special thanks for her constant moral, logistical, statistical and realistic good-humored advice and support. She has listened to everything from my most complex stats questions to the most basic etiquette question and somehow always been happy to help. I realized only recently how much I will miss meeting up with Kathy and being able to drop into Doug’s office to chat.

My committee members Matt Ayres, Ross Virginia and John Moore have also been invaluable. Matt was especially helpful in his constant quest for hypotheses and in reading my second chapter more than anyone but me. Ross has been a constant fount of wisdom on academia and formed the base of my ability to understand soil science.

Finally, I could not have imagined a better outside committee member than John Moore. I will never forget him coming up to me during qualifying exams to correct my board work and whispering ‘you’re doing fine.’ He has been fantastic in teaching me food web modeling, soil food webs and has offered me such a depth of advice and knowledge, always with a smile and warmth.

My honorary San Diego-based committee members, David Holway and David Lipson, made the research presented here possible. They both opened up their labs to me when I was only a second-year student. Their constant moral, local logistical support and their freely-offered scientific expertise have been instrumental in all the work presented here. In particular my special thanks for their collaboration on chapter 3 (David Holway) and 4 (David Lipson, with a tour de force to make what I thought would be a ‘Note’ in to a fantastic work and who pushed the revisions through). Additionally, in San Diego, John Martin of the San Diego National Wildlife Refuge has provided habitat, but also support and important information on local management projects and needs.

In addition I cannot express my full thanks to so many other advisors, friends, collaborators and mentors. To Mary Poulson, Mark McPeek, Becky Irwin, Becky Ball and Susan Milord. To Craig Layne for his friendship, miraculously unflagging support; he has been an amazing source of ideas, advice and chocolate. To Joe Craine and Kendra McLauchlan for their friendship, advice, expertise, and dinners. To Jeb Barrett for answering and re-explaining his answers to all my most basic soil science questions, and for beer hour. To Dan Gruner, Claire de Mazancourt, Elizabeth Borer and the rest of the NCEAS Trophic Structure working group, for showing me just how fantastically fun and fast-paced collaborative science can be. To Eric Seabloom for incredible patience and long-distance support while I learned R. To John Gilbert, who seems to always enjoy science and life, and is an inspiration to me. To Erin Wilson and Dana Morin for friendship and collaboration in San Diego. To Pauline Roberts for telling me to keep a daily field log. To Megan Donahue for showing me Balboa Park and explaining how to non-dimensionalize and drop the hat. To my labmate, Tom Morrison, for critical moments of coffee and associated conversation. To David Mbora for wine, conversation and perspective. To Sarah Neeley for friendship, time in Manhattan and teaching me structural equation modeling. To my dear friend, Sharon Martinson, it is impossible for me to express all she has done for me as a friend and scientist. To my sister and best friend, Joy, who knows the answers to all my questions and has always been there for me.

In the lab I have received extensive help, especially from Paul Zietz and many undergraduates. Among these Mayda Nathan and Britt Ousterhout deserve the greatest thanks and accolades. They are gifted researchers and have been critical to this research. Will Stork, Ha Linh Vu, Ankit Rastogi, Sam Haynor have also provided great help.

On the same occasion as this advice question I started this section with, I was asked who was my greatest inspiration, and I was able to quickly answer, ‘my mother.’ My Mum, Jeanne Dearden, has forever been the most remarkable person I know. She is thoughtful, too giving, well-read, funny and joyful and she makes my every day happier. I would not be an ecologist were it not for her love of nature, for her moving her entire family to the wilds of rural New Hampshire when I was six, for the wonderful friends and siblings she has given me—Joy and Jake Wolkovich, for the home and wonderful animals—most especially my Tilly—she brought into our lives, and for her constant and demanding wish that I be nothing more than happy. Far more important than the time I spent the last six years at Dartmouth is the time I have spent with my Mum and she has my greatest appreciation for all she has given me.

[master-missysversion]

I am pretty sure the Dan outing Yaz thing is about him telling the Doctor 5 seconds after Yaz has - kinda - made it clear she isn't even completely out to herself yet, let alone anybody else.

To be the first one someone comes out to - also kinda because she had to but that conversation is sweet imo I don't have issues with it - and then immediately run to your mutual friend and pass the message along, is not the best thing to do.

He didn't mean to hurt them, of course and there was a good chance they were about to die and the Doctor is a genderfluid alien but still. He did out her and she was not happy about it (see lotsd). Even if it was good that her and the Doctor talked and that arguably wouldn't have happened otherwise.

(I am actually more or less partial to him outing her. It is the wrong thing to do, yes, and he hurt her and I wish we would have seen them talk that out, but it is also so helplessly kind. Because he is trying to do the right thing, he just doesn't. And stuff like that can happen even with supportive family/friends and it is still wrong, so I like the idea of making him mess it up. I'd just wish we would have seen that discussed in more detail afterwards.)

(It would have been so easy to go 'you like her' instead btw. Like, 'Doc, it is obvious you are into Yaz but you are sending mixed signals. (Again.) Stop playing with her.')

Yeah idk i guess so can see how you'd take that perspective but I just don't think it was the terrible act people make it out to be. It's not like Dan was actually fishing for information from Yaz with the express purpose of passing it on to the doctor, and most of the issues with timing can probably be attributed to real life timing— Eve of the Daleks wasn't even supposed to exist so I'm sure they were feeling the pressure of how quickly this storyline had to be moved along

I dont really remember yaz mentioning it in lotsd, I'd probably have to rewatch that

Ultimately I think a lot of the feelings around this maybe are just to do with personal experience, I'm at university where its very common to be queer and talk about liking girls, or about who likes who, regardless of gender. It's not as tentative or nerve-wracking as it was in high school or in my home town. I have experienced my mum telling her friends that I'm queer and nobody has reacted badly but i do know its pretty uncomfortable, so I imagine that's the kind of experience people are perceiving this situation with Yaz and Dan as being like, it's just not what I automatically compare it to yk?

[otherprojecto]

MAIN CONCEPT

ENGLISH VERSION.

The Other Project is a temporary open agency based in Indonesia with a focus on the grocery concept. For us, grocery reflects freshness, diversity, cheerfulness, and orderliness. Our vision is to be a fresh and passionate agency, full of creativity and vibrancy, as well as bringing joy and uniting people from different backgrounds.

We chose the name "The Other Project" because we wanted to bring a fresh perspective to the common grocery concept. Usually, grocery is merely seen as a place for routine buying and selling, but we aim to infuse creativity and innovation into our agency.

For some people, grocery shopping can also be a way to unwind, not just a chore. Shopping can help alleviate the fatigue from life's routines. Therefore, the main concept of our agency is to meet, gather, and relax in a different way. We will invite and accompany you to express yourselves and enjoy leisure time together with The Other Project.

The Other Project will run for 30 days with two events, one at the beginning and one at the end of the period. Our main goal is to have fun and relax together. Throughout the next 30 days, we hope to bring peace and happiness into your busy lives.

We want to share that our graphic designs are influenced by the remarkable work of two stores that have left an unforgettable mark in the creative community, namely Thence and Plafla. Their exceptional talent and innovative ideas have inspired us, and we deeply respect and admire their work, making them a constant source of inspiration for our agency.

“Don’t you know whenever you tired, you can take a rest. Don’t you know that everytime you sad, you could cry. don’t you know whenever you lose, you could find the Other Project.”

VERSI INDONESIA.

The Other Project adalah agensi terbuka sementara berbasis bahasa Indonesia dengan fokus pada konsep grocery. Grocery bagi kami mencerminkan kesegaran, keberagaman, keceriaan, dan keteraturan. Visi kami adalah menjadi agensi yang segar dan bersemangat, penuh dengan kreativitas dan warna-warni, serta menyenangkan dan menyatukan orang-orang dengan latar belakang yang berbeda.

Kami memilih nama "The Other Project" karena ingin memberikan sentuhan baru pada konsep grocery yang umum. Grocery biasanya hanya digunakan sebagai tempat jual-beli rutin, tetapi kami ingin memberikan tampilan kreatif dan inovatif dalam agensi kami.

Grocery bagi beberapa orang juga bisa menjadi cara menghilangkan kepenatan, bukan hanya tidur. Berbelanja dapat membantu mengurangi kelelahan dari rutinitas kehidupan. Oleh karena itu, konsep utama agensi kami adalah bertemu, berkumpul, dan bersantai dengan cara yang berbeda. Kami akan mengajak dan menemani kalian untuk berekspresi dan menikmati waktu santai bersama dengan The Other Project.

The Other Project akan berjalan selama 30 hari dengan dua kali event, di awal dan di akhir periode. Tujuan utama kami adalah menyenangkan dan bersantai bersama. Selama 30 hari ke depan, kami berharap bisa memberikan ketenangan dan kebahagiaan dalam kesibukan hidup kalian.

Kami ingin berbagi bahwa desain grafis kami dipengaruhi oleh karya luar biasa dari dua toko yang telah meninggalkan jejak tak terlupakan dalam komunitas kreatif, yaitu Thence dan Plafla. Bakat mereka yang luar biasa dan ide-ide inovatif telah menginspirasi kami dan kami sangat menghormati serta mengagumi karya mereka, sehingga menjadi sumber inspirasi konstan bagi agensi kami.

“Apakah kamu tau ketika kamu lelah, kamu dapat beristirahat. Apakah kamu tahu, ketika kamu merasa sedih kamu diperbolehkan menangis. Ketika kamu tau kamu mengalami kekalahan, kamu bisa mencari Other Project.”

[sistersinead]

Reflections on Reading the Zhuangzi as a Transsexual

[I realised Tumblr doesn't have character limits so I can just repost my whole essay instead of linking it]

The Zhuangzi begins with a transformation. The great fish Kun in the Northern Oblivion turns, quite suddenly, into an equally great bird named Peng, who begins flying toward the Southern Oblivion. Peng’s great size means he must fly at an astronomical height, and below him on the ground, the cicada and the fledgling dove laugh at his excess. They are quite happy hopping between trees, and think Peng ridiculous for being so huge.

Of the commentators, Guo Xiang sees in this story a radical equality between divergent perspectives, that “each [being] fits perfectly into precisely the position it occupies”. Cheng Xuanying sees a commitment to constant change and to adapting oneself to one’s newfound disposition. I myself stand somewhat more than six feet tall, and weigh somewhat more than a hundred kilograms; I fit only awkwardly into chairs and clothes, and take up more space than those around me. I am also, lately, a woman, which has the effect of emphasising my size. So as I read the story of Peng who was Kun, I wonder if he ever wished to be as small as a cicada or a dove. I wonder if he ever felt less of a bird for having once been a fish.

***

I came to Daoist philosophy through Ursula Le Guin’s rendition of the Daodejing. In the second poem of that small volume, I read:

The things of this world

exist, they are;

you can’t refuse them.

-like a moment of vertigo. I still can’t explain why this truism has the effect on me it does, but I find myself, in moments of pain or grief, reminding myself: this exists, it is, you can’t refuse it. Somehow, it helps.

***

There are innumerable Daoist texts, but three are esteemed above the rest — the Daodejing (sometimes called the Laozi after its legendary author Lao Dan), the Zhuangzi, and the Liezi. If the Daodejing is a still, clear pool, the Zhuangzi is a mess of currents. Elaborate stories of fantastical creatures vie for space with polemics against popular morality, logical paradoxes, and jokes at the expense of Confucius. Its most prominent theme is transformation, including the passage for which Zhuang Zhou is most famous in the West:

Once Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, fluttering about joyfully just as a butterfly would. He followed his whims exactly as he liked and knew nothing about Zhuang Zhou. Suddenly he awoke, and there he was, the startled Zhuang Zhou in the flesh. He did not know if Zhou had been dreaming he was a butterfly, or if a butterfly was now dreaming it was Zhou. Surely, Zhou and a butterfly count as two distinct identities! Such is what we call the transformation of one thing into another.

Like many passages in this text, it carries multiple meanings. It posits an equivalence between one entity and another, and also between dreaming and waking, suggesting that these are nothing more than a matter of perspective expressed in the indexical ‘I’; it also depicts the natural, unthinking spontaneity or ‘self-so’ that Daoism has at times held up as the highest form of life. It hints at moral particularism — the idea that no one way or mode of action or being will be appropriate at all times and in all places. And to a trans person, the casual dismissal of artificial categories and boundaries is intoxicating. Why should I accept the bounds of sex when Zhuang Zhou could not even be convinced of the validity of the boundaries of species?

***

Something I immediately found attractive in my reading around Daoism was the almost perverse indefinability of this movement. The name ‘Daoism’ is ambiguous between ‘philosophical Daoism’ — a quietist movement that emphasises emptiness and spontaneity, and de-emphasises rational thought and planning — and ‘religious Daoism’, a syncretic religion that worships Lao Dan as a god and advocates the pursuit of immortality through, among other things, alchemy. Within philosophical Daoism (sometimes called Lao-Zhuang after its most prominent thinkers), there is no doctrine or dogma that can uncontroversially be proclaimed. It is an anti-doctrine.

Even the great texts of Daoism reflect these ambiguities. The Daodejing is traditionally attributed to Lao Dan (or perhaps his name was Lao Er), about whom nothing is known — the earliest biographical account of Master Lao is internally incoherent, placing Lao in the timeline twice, two centuries apart. The most common view these days is that the Daodejing is a compilation of an unknown number of texts and authors. The Zhuangzi, meanwhile, was once a text of 52 chapters, but is now only extant as a 33-chapter book. Of those chapters, only the first seven can be attributed with confidence to Zhuang Zhou (about whom, in any case, little more is known than the mythical Lao Dan); the remaining 26 appear to be another compilation of writings by students, hangers-on, imitators and interlocutors, responding to the numinous Inner Chapters (as the first seven have become known). Both the Zhuangzi and the Daodejing were written before the category of Daoism was established — their authors would not have considered themselves Daoists. The Liezi, finally, is attributed to 5th-century BC philosopher Lie Yukou, but is now known to be a forgery compiled some eight centuries later, and one of its eight chapters expounds a hedonistic philosophy so at odds with the rest of the book it is often considered an interpolation.

***

My favourite story from the Zhuangzi is that of Carpenter Shi. The carpenter, on some journey, passes by a huge old tree. His apprentice stops to marvel, but his master disdains the tree, and lectures the apprentice on the tree’s uselessness — it’s too soft, too gnarled, to make into anything.

That night, Carpenter Shi dreams of the tree. In his dream, the tree defends itself. It tells Shi that its uselessness has been cultivated over a lifetime, and is a great benefit. If it were useful, it would have been cut down for lumber, or hemmed up in an orchard. Being useless means nobody has bothered to interfere with it, so that it has been able to grow to its full height and live to a ripe old age. The tree mocks Shi, asking him: what are you useful for?

At the core of much homophobia and transphobia is the idea that we are useless, barren, not fulfilling the duty for which humans were created by God or Evolution. This finds vicious expression in the prurient way that a certain variety of bigot likes to describe trans people’s genitals, but it tends to run as a current beneath most of the anxieties about gender transition. Zhuang Zhou’s joyful embrace of uselessness is a balm against this petty, shopkeeper’s utilitarianism. To be self-so is to be useless, immune to co-option and subordination to another’s agenda. When Daoists talk of Heaven (tian), they simply mean what is so of itself, not reduced by purpose or meaning.

***

There is, traditionally, no word for ‘Daoist’ in any Chinese language — in the sense of an ordinary or lay believer, analogous to ‘Christian’ or ‘socialist’. This could be regarded as a linguistic oddity, but I find in it a neat demonstration of the anti-doctrine of Lao-Zhuang thought. To say that one “is” a Daoist feels like a confusion, in the absence of a creed to be affirmed or a deity to dedicate oneself to. These texts talk instead about possessing the Way, in a manner that feels reminiscent of having rhythm or poise, or being able to dance. Not something known, or even a path walked, but the capacity to freely choose a direction and begin walking, leaving a new path in one’s wake.

***

Zhuangzi, too, challenges some trans orthodoxies. When he rejects fixed identity, personality and name, I think of the great public-relations effort by some trans organisations and allies to convince the world that trans people’s genders are Real in some objective, permanent, biological or metaphysical sense; that we have different brains or minds that mark us out somehow as distinct from the cis people we superficially resemble; that the doctors who assigned our genders at birth simply got it wrong, and with cis people, those doctors get it right. It’s harder to sell — and more challenging, especially for cis people, to hear — that gender assignment is an act of creative imposition, not a finding of already-existing scientific fact; that cis people’s genders are also acquired, chosen, and performed; that this is not science but storytelling.

The Consummate Person has no fixed identity, the Spirit Man has no particular merit, the Sage has no one name.

What if, instead of clinging to an identification with gender (or, for that matter, with transness), we could use the momentum of our transitions to cast ourselves away from these limits entirely? What if, as Cheng Xuanying said of Kun and Peng, “Whatever thousands of changes and ten thousands of transformations I may go through, not one of them fails to be myself”?

***

In the final story of the Inner Chapters of the Zhuangzi, we meet Swoosh of the Southern Sea, Oblivion of the Northern Sea, and Chaos of the Middle Sea. Swoosh and Oblivion want to do something nice for their friend Chaos. They realise that Chaos lacks the “seven holes” (the eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth) by which people perceive the world, and resolve to give him this gift. Each day they drill a new hole, and by the seventh day, Chaos is dead.

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter XIII: The Land of the Living

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault (once in the prologue), objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: some kissing (I mean, there is a wedding), religious mentions

Author’s Note: I’m not sure how but I wrote this in two sittings. My hands hurt! Also, in my take on Black Butler, Tanaka plays the cello. Sue me. And one more thing, this is one of my favorite chapters I’ve written for this fic. Hang onto your hats, folks.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

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MASTERLIST

. . .

APRIL 1ST, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Thank you, Nadia. This length should do just fine,” you said, turning in front of the long mirror before you to observe the dress’s hem. As you preferred, it reached the floor without dragging like a train. 

Your gown for the ceremony was light green, a delicate shade of sage matching the ceremonial decorations you would have to wear to represent the monarchy. The dress had layered tulle tied off and sewn down the front of the bodice, flaring out in ruffles down the petticoat. The bracelet sleeves ended a little above your wrists, sufficiently covering your scar. 

“You are simply breathtaking, Your Highness. I almost pity the bride,” Nadia said, referring to the traditional idea that no woman should upstage the bride on her wedding day. You made no attempt to. From your perspective, Cornelia and Lord Edward’s wedding was near meaningless. All you cared about was using the night of distraction to attempt to carry out your mission. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” you disagreed, frowning at the freshly polished tiara on your vanity. Sebastian took the liberty of cleaning the Honeysuckle & Scroll tiara sent by Queen Victoria, along with the rest of Marie’s ceremonial decorations from Germany. Surprisingly, Maire’s handmaidens didn’t send those valuables with their rightful owner. Instead, they stayed safe in Germany until Victoria requested they be sent to the Phantomhive estate. 

The Queen expressed considerable worry in their accompanying letter, but her love for the Midford family was victorious over any consternation. After all, Alexis Leon Midford, the groom’s father, was her Head of the Garter, and his mother was a beloved Phantomhive. She approved of her granddaughter overseeing the festivities in her stead. If only she knew which German granddaughter that was, exactly. 

Before Nadia could argue, there was a stiff knock at your bedroom door. 

“Your Highness, my master humbly requests your assistance,” Sebastian asked tactfully in German, so Nadia wouldn’t understand the infallible Lord Phantomhive needed help. 

You rolled your eyes, answering in English. “I am in the midst of my dress fitting. How urgent is the problem at hand?”

“Quite pressing, Your Highness,” he said, as unctuous as ever. If you opened the door, you would surely see the butler’s dark eyes narrowing from how difficult you were. “It is preferable if you attend to him in the front room in your wedding number.”

“Is he not in tutoring with you at this time?” 

“He begs of you, Your Highness.”

“What could the Earl need from me in full formal dress?” You asked incredulously, stepping off the small podium Nadia brought from the shop. You gestured for Nadia to follow you as you moved to the door, swinging it open to reveal the lanky butler. He wore the same glasses he always did when he held lessons for Lord Phantomhive.

“It’s a matter of…social etiquette,” Sebastian answered carefully. 

You understood his strategic word choice when you met the Earl in the front room at the bottom of the main staircase. A frazzled Mey-Rin used the wall to help remain upright, making a dramatic show of being dizzy. Sebastian’s violin sat on one of the side tables next to Tanaka, who sat with his cello between his legs. A metronome clicked methodically. 

Mortification flashed on the Earl’s face, causing him to redden to the tips of his ears. “Sebastian, I told you not to bother Her Highness with such a meaningless waste of time,” he cringed at his words, his fists clenching and unclenching. 

“No, thank goodness, you’re here, ma’am! I never learned to dance like this! I’m just a maid!” Mey-Rin surged back to life upon your entrance. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, master; yes, I am!” She exclaimed, hastily bowing to Lord Phantomhive and you before scampering out of the main room. She took the narrow hall that led to the servants’ quarters, likely in search of her co-workers for comfort. 

“Wait, Mey-Rin!” Phantomhive protested, but she was too far to hear. 

“So…this urgent and pressing matter is Lord Phantomhive’s mediocre dancing technique?” You surmised, equal parts amused and terrified. Even when you were undergoing daily dance lessons, your skills were passable at best. Marie was the dancer. On top of that, your last class had to be nearly a decade ago.

Due to their uselessness, those particular granules of knowledge sank to the back of your mind, like phantom limbs or atrophied muscles.  

“Quite. The wedding is tomorrow, and my Lord has been too stubborn to hire a tutor,” Sebastian sent a pointed look at the Earl, who looked as if he would pull out his pistol and shoot that very moment. “I know royals receive extensive training in these areas. I was hoping you might have something to teach him.”

“My dancing is perfectly adequate!” Lord Phantomhive protested.

“Your Highness?” Sebastian prompted, and despite your best intuition, you took measured steps toward the indignant nobleman. You felt like your actions were determined for you like there was a puppeteer manipulating strings tied around your limbs.

“All right,” you surrendered, standing directly before Lord Phantomhive. You ignored the irksome discomfort of several pairs of eyes on you. “We’ll start with the Viennese Waltz. Bow and ask for my hand,” you dared the Earl to defy you. If Sebastian was forcing you to help, he would listen.

“Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive cleared his throat, “shall I have the honor of dancing this set with you?” 

“Yes, you may,” you said, lowering yourself into a shallow curtsey while he bowed. You were in perfect sync, sinking and rising together. 

Lord Phantomhive gave you a final questioning look before hesitantly taking your right hand in his and putting his left hand under your shoulder blade.

This was the hard part. You called on your lessons from Governess Lydia as a child, although you barely listened to those at the time, either. 

“Start with the box, Helena-Victoria. Step back, together, right, together, forward, together, left, together. Repeat. It’s a circle. Think of a race track,” Lydia said sternly.

Duly, you heard Sebastian calling out the rhythm along with the metronome. But for the first time, you purposely listened to Lydia. 

“We do side whisks to keep from getting lightheaded. Right foot, left foot behind the right, repeat. Fix your posture and stop staring at the floor. You are a princess; you stand up straight and never bow your head to anyone.”

The Lydia in your head was much kinder than the Lydia you knew. 

“Four natural turns, four side whisks, and repeat. You are not a fool. Think it through, and it will come naturally. What did I tell you about your posture? Can you follow simple instructions, or are you defective?”

That was a lie. No conception of Lydia was kind.

“Look at me, Lord Phantomhive,” you said, silencing your fabricated governess. You could be a better instructor. “Don’t look at the floor; you’re an Earl, and Lady Elizabeth will find it offensive. Look at me.”

Asking Lord Phantomhive to look at you was a mistake. Your stomach twisted as he complied, bringing his gaze back to meet yours.

He was uncharacteristically quiet but staring as intently as ever. It made your heart flutter, rightfully flustered from being analyzed so closely and at such proximity. You never stood this close to the Earl, save for the time you pushed his tea out of his hand to save his life. 

It was easy to forget that the Earl wasn’t an unattractive young man; his perfect complexion and prominent, angular cheekbones were the pinnacles of offense. He looked otherworldly, like a vampire or some kind of demon with his sapphire eye. His hair almost wholly covered his eye patch. 

“Your Highness?” Lord Phantomhive questioned your little stumble caused by your inattentiveness. Your staring.

No, not staring, gawking. 

“The reverse box is forward, side cross.” Lydia reminded you.

You cleared your throat, “we’re going to complete a reverse box now. That’s forward, to the side, and back.” All you wanted to do was tear your eyes away, but you couldn’t after demanding he look at you. You could do difficult things; you killed Felix Keating in a moving carriage, shot two men after they killed your best friend and assaulted you, and hid the bodies after. “Good. You’re not hopeless, Lord Phantomhive,” if you could do both those things, you could look a ruminative nobleman in the eye while dancing with him. 

“I appreciate your help,” Lord Phantomhive said, casting his pride aside. There wasn’t much he disliked more than swallowing his pride and asking for help or muttering a word of gratitude. In that way, the two of you were the same. Yet, he’s done both for you numerous times. 

And you’ve done both for him as well, numerous times. 

“I’m out of practice too, my Lord. We both needed the practice,” you admitted, laughing as you took a more dramatic step than necessary, making the ‘natural’ turn more pronounced. You pulled him along by your clasped hands, picking up your pace to match the ¾ rhythm a Viennese waltz typically started at. You were moving slower to help Phantomhive (and mostly yourself) master the steps.

You were strong, capable of accomplishing impossible tasks, but you couldn’t help your riotous smile. It hurt your cheeks. 

“This is faster than the proper rhythm! You read music. Shouldn’t you know this?” Lord Phantomhive protested, but his tone was fond. “I’m leading. You must follow my tempo.”

“Then you ought to allow me to lead!” you suggested, deaf to the music stopping. Until Sebastian spoke, drawing the dance to a stilted stop. 

“My sincerest apologies, but there is a call on the line for you, my Lord. From Scotland Yard, regarding an old case,” Sebastian said, all too eager to ruin a moment where the two of you weren’t wholeheartedly miserable. The butler didn’t have either of your best interests at heart; you were sure. “He says the matter is dire.”

Lord Phantomhive hesitated, giving you a final long look before taking his hands away. “Right. If it’s a…dire matter, I shall tend to it. Of course,” he said, smoothing his suit. “Thank you, Your Highness. Sebastian, see to lunch preparations for after this call.” 

“Of course, my Lord,” Sebastian bowed, helping Tanaka move the instruments away. 

Phantomhive swiftly dipped his head before starting up the stairs to his study.

They left you with Nadia, who grinned like a lovestruck child. “Your Highness,” she gasped once everyone was out of earshot. “That was…intense.”

“It was a dance lesson,” you dismissed, returning to your quarters to allow the seamstress to help remove your gown. “I feared he would step on me.”

“Forgive me, but that was more than a dance lesson. You and Lord Phantomhive…there’s-”

“Your primary commissioner is Lord Phantomhive’s fiancée, Nadia. Please, just do your job and give me a hand with this dress. That is an order,” you snarled without meaning to, killing the beaming smile on her face.

“Forgive me,” Nadia repeated skeptically, doing as told. 

. . . 

Sebastian prepared a beautiful lunch table, but his master never joined you, no matter how slowly you chewed. 

“My Lord sends his regrets, but this call from the Yard is much too… blindsiding for him to proceed without a proper strategy,” the butler said, refilling your cup of tea.  

“Blindsiding?” you questioned, searching Sebastian’s face for any clues. There were none. “What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid it is classified information between the Queen’s Guard Dog and Scotland Yard,” Sebastian said, “but please allow me to assist you in any other way, Your Highness.”

Frustrated, you dismissed Sebastian and didn’t see Lord Phantomhive for the rest of the day. Not by choice, the Earl simply didn’t join you for supper, dessert, or cards. 

Maybe everything was in your head.

. . .

APRIL 2ND, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Look at this sunset!” Lady Elizabeth praised the fuchsia sky, peering through the curtains in the carriage. The golden sun set, casting warm hues through the carriage, highlighting her blonde hair, catching the diamonds in your tiara, and somehow making Lord Phantomhive appear paler. “I think this is a blessed evening.”

You were in the second carriage of the wedding’s church procession, the first being Cornelia and her father and Lord and Lady Scotney, the groom's parents. Looking out the window, you saw the white carriage directly in front of yours and the pair of light gray horses pulling you.

Lord Phantomhive was handsome in his warm gray jacket and a baby pink flower tucked into his jacket pocket. It matched his tie, and his fiancée's dress, of course. The pairing stung, although your rational mind knew the color match was to honor their statuses as maid of honor and best man. Lady Elizabeth practically glowed, accented in gold jewelry. Her hair fell to her waist in waves. You caught her eyes flitting towards her betrothed every few seconds, looking for a compliment. 

He merely stared at the carriage door, the floor, and the ceiling. Anywhere that wasn’t you or his cousin, really. He was always moody, and social events weren’t his idea of fun. If you could be anywhere else, you would be. Carriages gave you enough anxiety. 

“Yes, it’s lovely,” you responded, feeling like a dress-up doll of your sister. You wore her entire cast of princess regalia, shipped from Germany: the Honeysuckle & Scroll tiara, the National Order of Merit sash with the royal insignia brooch pinned over your breast. You hoped you didn’t look as ridiculous as you felt. 

As your carriage neared, the bells tolling in the church grew louder, echoing throughout the city. Lanterns lit the church’s perimeter, lining the front staircase and aisle. Blossom petals littered over the ground, symbols of good luck and virtue. You watched Cornelia, and her father make the slow trek up the flowered staircase and through the doors to the congregation first, followed by Alexis and Frances. Then it was your turn; you walked in stride with Lady Elizabeth and Lord Phantomhive between them, climbing the stairway and walking down the aisle.

The wedding string quartet to the side of the altar played Handel’s Arrival of The Queen of Sheba, a joyous and majestic sound. The church had beautiful acoustics, making the expert playing sound even more euphonious. 

You reddened as the guests in the pews bowed as you passed them, only straightening as you moved past their aisle. Although your entrance was strategically planned for after the bride, you still felt a pang of guilt for momentarily stealing her spotlight. On either side of you, Lady Elizabeth and Lord Phantomhive split to join their respective sides of the altar; Elizabeth to Cornelia’s right and Phantomhive to Edward’s left. 

In the front row to the right, you stood in front of your chair while the rest of the wedding procession filed in, sitting once the bridesmaids took their places to Elizabeth’s side. Edward’s groomsmen, except for Lord Phantomhive, had been waiting for the bridal party’s arrival.

The quartet’s music slowly quieted as the bald priest straightened his back, addressing the audience. He cleared his throat, waiting for Richard Burton’s affirming nod before speaking. Naturally, the bride’s father had to confirm his consent to make the ceremony valid from the law’s perspective. “Dearly beloved, you have come together into the house of the church so that in the presence of the church’s minister and the community, your intention to enter into marriage may be strengthened by the Lord with a sacred seal,” his gravelly voice commanded the sanctuary’s attention. 

The priest began with a prayer, but you stopped listening. In fact, you doubted most of the wedding party at the altar was doing much prayer, either. Lord Phantomhive fought himself, but he was looking at you, to the light your diamonds refracted on the tall ceiling and to the inquisitive look on your face.

He needed to decide, was he looking at you, or was he not? What prompted this indecision, anyway? 

Your fingers fiddled with the second salt shaker hidden in your gown’s pocket bag.

“Lord Midford, please repeat after me,” the priest requested, reading the vows to Edward. The groom was distracted with his bride, taken by the sheer expanse of her dress and face, illuminated by soft brushes of makeup. “Lord Midford?” the priest repeated patiently.

“Right-- In the name of God, I, Edward Midford, take you, Cornelia Margaret Burton, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow,”  the groom blinked rapidly, holding back tears. It was a sweet juxtaposition to his crisp knight uniform. 

Cornelia repeated the same vows after the priest, surprisingly much less tearful than her counterpart. Instead, she smiled brilliantly, practically bouncing on the soles of her heels.

“Very well,” the priest said, leading the congregation in another prayer to bless the couple’s wedding rings. You took the opportunity to observe Lord Phantomhive again; he wasn’t looking at Elizabeth or you, pointedly so. While he was dressed beautifully to match the other groomsmen and the blush blossoms that surrounded the arch behind the couple, the solemn look on his face told you that he was mourning. There was a fake, idle smile on his lips, but the rest of his face wasn’t in it. 

What was wrong? 

You cringed as the couple exchanged rings.

“Edward, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Cornelia repeated after her groom, completing the exchange.

The priest spoke, “Now let us humbly invoke God’s blessing….”

You thought back to the day prior, the dancing. It was your only interaction with Lord Phantomhive, and it was, as always, enjoyable. He smiled, and it was more than the vacant and foolish look he offered to the congregation. 

Until Sebastian interrupted you with the call from the Yard.

“In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss!” The priest exclaimed, allowing an eager husband and wife to spring into one another’s arms and share an impassioned kiss in front of their closest family and friends. And you, a disguised interloper.

“Go in peace to glorify the Lord with your life,” the priest managed to bellow over the audience. You stood as the rest of the guests did, clapping appropriately. 

The bells tolled once more, marking the ceremony’s conclusion.

Hand-in-hand, Edward led Cornelia down the aisle, through the church’s open doors, and into the waiting carriage to prepare for the dinner and reception. The rest of the wedding party followed. 

You trailed behind Lord Phantomhive and his future bride. They were next, and they knew it. 

Your fingers wrapped around the poison in your pocket. Was there any sense in caring for someone who didn’t care for you?

. . .

The wedding party sat in the middle of the round guest tables in front of the towering wedding cake. The newlyweds sat together, their groomsmen and bridesmaids fanning on either side respectively, save for your seat next to Lady Elizabeth’s. 

The attendants served dinner while the immediate families gave their speeches. Richard was first, bringing tears to the bride’s eyes at the mention of her dead mother, Margaret Burton. She died of consumption when Cornelia was three, but Richard was sure to lift everyone’s spirits by insisting that she was proud of her daughter for taking in her legacy and becoming a nurse. For the most part, you ignored Alexis’s speech, savoring the creamy mashed potatoes on your plate.

After dinner, most guests took to the expansive dance floor, waltzing with their partners. You were the only guest left at the table, as no one dared ask a royal to dance with them. Thus, you took the opportunity to unscrew the lid of your salt shaker and pour its contents into Lord Phantomhive’s flute of champagne. With the number of toasts the couple planned, the Earl was sure to finish his champagne by the night’s conclusion. 

You silenced any guilt by watching him waltz with Elizabeth. Her hand in his, his hand under her shoulder blade. Four natural turns, four side whisks. It was the Viennese waltz that you taught him. In response to your unadulterated rage, you took a long, calming drink out of your (unpoisoned) champagne. The acrid taste stung your tongue, but it was better than simply looking on. It was a miracle you didn’t break the stem of your glass.

“Care to dance, Your Highness?” a new voice asked, startling you. “You seem lonely. Too beautiful to be alone like this,” he said, reaching for your hand. He pressed a kiss to your family ring while he sank into a formal bow. The stranger’s accent sounded like Cornelia’s father. A New Yorker.

You raised an eyebrow, reclaiming your hand as soon as the American righted himself. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Cooper Finley,” he said purposely as if he expected a German princess to know his surname’s ‘significance.’ But you knew, and it made you grin venomously, seeing that this was the avarice-ridden and the overly confident man you helped Lord Phantomhive outwit. This was the graverobber that stole bodies and sold them to medical students without familial consent. Your instincts told you to rebuff him as brutally as someone of your stature could, but you caught Elizabeth and Phantomhive again.

 She smiled, laughing as if her betrothed said something undeniably hilarious. 

“If you can keep up with a waltz,” you smarted, willing yourself to look playful. Dancing with someone like Cooper Finley was narrowly better than standing abandoned during a waltz. 

“Can I take this off your hands? I wouldn’t want you to overindulge,” Finley said, taking Lord Phantomhive’s poisoned champagne flute before you could protest. It had been close enough to look like yours, potentially a second round from a server. He finished the full flute in one go as if it were a common tavern beer. 

“Better not to be wasteful, correct?” he asked rhetorically, roving his tongue over his lips, locking eyes with you. It made sense, Finley’s shipping business was failing without Lord Phantomhive’s support, and now he was seducing a princess in an effort to become a German duke.

“Shall we?” you ignored him, offering your gloved hand to lead you to the middle of the dance floor when the previous song ended. Guests parted for you upon sight, giving you the necessary room to dance with your unexpected partner. 

Finley took your hand, and his free one sat below your shoulder blade, as custom dictated. He wasn’t a bad dancer, nor hard to look at. In fact, he carried a small resemblance to Cornelia and her father with his close-cropped brown hair and heavy-set eyebrows. If you weren’t aware of the selfishness and cruelty behind his hazel eyes and seductive grin, you might have found solace in dancing with him over the Earl. 

“What are you up to in England, Princess Marie?” Finley asked, leading you into a turn. You scoffed.

“Your Highness,” you corrected him, “and just what are you doing in England, Cooper Finley?”

He laughed as if he hadn’t expected you to correct him. “Sorry. Your Highness, Princess Marie. I’m here for business. But I managed an invitation because I’m the bride’s cousin. I’m a representative of her dead Mama’s side of the family.”

You wondered if Lord Phantomhive knew this. Regardless, Cornelia’s cousin was going to die in about a week due to lethal thallium ingestion. You doubted you would be the first to say that he deserved it. 

At least you understood where the familial resemblance came from, dead Mama’s side. 

Finley must have attributed the alarm on your face to his cavalier manner of referring to Cornelia’s deceased mother. He put a sad smile on his face, “it’s alright. She died when we were all in the crib. Not so near and dear to our hearts as Uncle Richard says.”

“Do you always speak of such unseemly things during a waltz?” you asked. 

“You’re too easy to talk to, Your Highness, Princess Marie,” Finley said, moving the hand from your back to fix your sash. His hand lingered on the royal decoration for a moment too long.  

The waltz was hardly halfway complete before Phantomhive intervened, forcing the both of you out of your natural turn. 

“Mind if I cut in?” It was the first time since he willingly looked at you in the past two days. His jaw was set. 

“Lord Phantomhive,” Cooper Finley said, any semblance of seduction melting off his face like a mask made of hot candle wax. “We were in the middle of a dance.”

“I wasn’t speaking to you, Finley,” the Earl snapped, each of his words clipped. “Your Highness?”

“What about Elizabeth?” you demanded, pulling away from the New Yorker to better face Lord Phantomhive. The rest of the guests danced around you, doing a convincing job of ignoring the drama amongst them. 

“She’s dancing with Lord Scotney,” his betrothed was laughing with her father as he twirled her around on the other side of the dance floor. Edward danced with his mother, and Cornelia with her father. They were hard to find through the various pairs of dancers; Phantomhive must have watched you the moment you left the dining table. 

“You’re excused, Mr. Finley,” you said coldly, dismissing him.

“But Princess Marie-”

“That is a direct order,” you insisted, finding the line extremely effective. 

“You will regret this,” Finley surrendered, crimson with embarrassment. He pushed past Lord Phantomhive to return to his seat or, more likely, seduce a bridesmaid. 

Lord Phantomhive wasted no time taking your hand and sweeping you into a turn. His movements were jagged, distracted by his anger. 

“What did he want with you?” he demanded, his grip much more potent than it needed for a dance. 

“He looked about ready to drop down on one knee for me,” you said dryly, keeping your face aloof, refusing to look at the Earl. You were far from the Earl’s property, a piece of property he needed to protect when it was threatened and ignored when he felt like it. He scowled at your response. “He wasn’t anything more than I can handle,” you added, and it was the truth. Cooper Finley was going to die, partially by your hand.

 “What is vexing you then?” Lord Phantomhive asked gruffly as if he hadn’t been ignoring you for the past two days. “You told me yourself not to look down during a waltz.”

“You,” you gritted honestly, “you are vexing me,” you admitted. “Are we or are we not friends?”

Phantomhive hesitated, struggling to pick the words he wanted to say. He was painfully close; you could smell his bay leaf scent. The hints of soap. The chandelier made his tiny diamond earrings sparkle. They were studs, easy to miss. 

He drew closer. You wondered if he could feel your heart at such closeness; your torsos were practically pressed together. 

“Ciel, my brother needs you in the powder room,” Elizabeth’s sudden presence forced you apart as if strong electric shocks suddenly sparked between you. Her voice quivered, and her eyes were glassy, “please,” she added as an afterthought, guiding Lord Phantomhive away with a hand on his shoulder. 

They left you alone in a sea of people. You saw Edward across the way, still engaged in a smooth waltz with Francis. Far from the powder room.

Your eyes stung, and you took a difficult breath in. Even your chest felt tight, and the tiara on your head pounds heavier than it was seconds ago. Without a second thought, you pushed past the dancing guests, making a beeline for the ballroom door and exiting the building. 

You leaned on the side of the building the moment you managed to get outside. The fresh air cleared your lungs, and you stared up at the night sky, a black abyss above you, speckled with stars. 

Everything in your life was complex, your job contradicting your heart, Lord Phantomhive clashing his duty with his. His commitment to the Queen, to his fiancée. That was probably why he couldn’t look at you. By embracing how he felt, he would betray almost every aspect of his life: his family and his responsibility to the crown. Differently, than Doña imagined, you were ruining Ciel Phantomhive’s life. Only, doing so by this means was almost more damaging and cruel than plunging a knife between his ribs. 

“Elizabeth!” you exclaimed as the blonde came through the same doors you did.

She jumped, startled by your outburst. Her eyes still looked glassy, filled with unshed tears. Her face was red.

“There you are, Your Highness. I was…looking for you,” Elizabeth admitted, her smile several degrees less vibrant since the ceremony, but genuine still. She was a kinder person than you. “I apologize for interrupting your dance with Ciel, but I wanted, needed, to talk to him. And you. Alone.”

“Please, I don’t deserve an apology from you,” you admitted, mouth running dry with guilt. Elizabeth trusted you to be her betrothed’s dear friend. And instead, you…you didn’t know what you were. Any label that could be put on it undoubtedly surpassed the bounds of friendship, which was a betrayal. 

“No, it’s all right,” Elizabeth’s voice was uncharacteristically strong as she rounded her back. She took your hands into hers, grasping them tightly to make you look at her. “He loves you how I wish he could love me,” she insisted, nodding at you as if the gesture would help you understand, “but he can’t love me like that. I love him and you, so I will… do what’s best for all of us,” Elizabeth had an actual princess’s grace.  “I don’t love him. We truly are friends, Elizabeth. I swear,” the words were heavy on your tongue and obviously false. You didn’t believe yourself. 

Elizabeth chuckled, likely appreciating your attempt to spare her feelings. “He fusses over you the same way my mother protects my father. And you look at him the way my brother looks at Cornelia. I know what love looks like, Your Highness. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize.”  “Call me Marie,” you stole her betrothed; the allowance was the least you could do. You ignored the nagging part of your brain that would’ve given anything to say Y/n.

“Lizzie,” she corrected, pulling you into a rib-crushing hug, to your surprise. Your back cracked in her robust embrace, but you didn’t care. Instead, you wrapped your arms around her as well, sighing. It felt as if you were Atlas, and the gods removed the weight of the sky from your shoulders. 

You relished Lizzie’s warm embrace for a few more seconds before she released you and helped smooth out your crooked sash and pinned brooches. When satisfied, she grinned again and linked her arm around yours.

“Come now, Marie, Cornelia should be preparing to throw her bouquet. If we’re to make Ciel propose to you soon, winning this is the best way to do it!”

All of the single women huddled behind Cornelia’s short frame like bees to honey. She stood with her back to the crowd, lifting her small bouquet of pink peonies, waiting for you and Lizzie to push past the women.

“Are all my ladies ready?” Cornelia exclaimed, casting a quick gaze over her shoulder at the eager throngs of cheering guests behind her. Dozens of arms around you sprouted up impatiently, the shorter women balancing on the tips of their toes. 

After a slow count down from three, the bride tossed the petite bouquet over her head with all her strength. It sailed straight down the middle of the crowd. If you were indeed Marie, the nudging ladies around you would have trampled you by then.

“Throw it here!” Samantha, one of the members of the bridal party demanded. She didn’t say much to you, but from what you gathered, she was also a heiress from the States. In front of you, she threw her arms up in the same determined way a soldier might shoot his bayonet.

However, as Lizzie requested, you held your ground and jumped for the flowers. Typically, you found such superstitious activities ridiculous, but there was no harm in participating, especially when you won.

With an uncharacteristic cheer, you caught the bouquet and immediately hugged it in your chest in case anyone attempted to take it from you. You looked down at the peonies in disbelief, laughing as the crowd around you dispersed. No one would fight a fully decorated princess for something so trivial. 

“A fantastic, unplanned victory for Her Highness, Princess Marie-Louise of Schleswig-Holstein!” Cornelia cheered, leading the applause around you. “We’re all looking forward to the invitations to your royal wedding in Germany,” she joked, lowering into an innocent curtsy when you rolled your eyes. 

“Congratulations,” Lizzie simpered in approval, only for the expression to melt when she spotted something over your shoulder. Her eyes turned stormy. “Now you must go to him,” she ordered, pointing at Lord Phantomhive as she pushed you toward the exit. 

As if he heard her, Lord Phantomhive turned to the both of you, meeting your eyes before tearing his gaze away again. He twisted the door handle and left. 

“Go!” Lizzie repeated, nodding towards the door. You shoved your bouquet into her arms and obeyed. 

It was the sloppiest attempt at a run you ever made. You picked up your heavy petticoat to make room for your frenzied steps, your heels echoing against the floor as you moved. Who knew numerous layers of tulle were this heavy? You had to let some of your skirts fall to keep your sash from falling down your arm. 

You opened the door and let it slam behind you, rapidly scanning the gardens outside for a hint of the nobleman. How hadn’t you noticed the beautiful outside scenery during your conversation with Lizzie? There was a water fountain and surrounding shrubbery and rose bushes lining the trail to it….

You could see his lean silhouette sitting on the concrete rim surrounding the opulent water fountain. With a curse, you pulled your skirts up once more and followed the cobblestone, yelling the moment you were in earshot. 

“You, Lord Ciel Phantomhive, are the worst!” You yelled, disturbing the peaceful, secluded area. The only previous sounds were the fountain’s running water, small squirrels chittering about, and the soft breeze rustling the greenery. Now, your enraged voice and winded pants distracted from the scene’s ambiance. You let your petticoat fall back to the ground and removed your gloves to air out your sweaty palms. Your heart drummed in your chest, anticipating his response. 

“What has you vexed so? Even now, you’re refusing to look at me, and yet you interrupted my dance,” you demanded, standing before his sitting person, arms crossed. 

“I interrupted your dance because Cooper Finley is a bastard!” Lord Phantomhive argued, standing to his full height.

“And as are you!” you refuted, jabbing your finger to his chest, right below the flower tucked in his jacket’s pocket. 

“Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive spat your pretend title like a curse, like the lie it was; a far cry from his fond sarcasm. “You don’t understand, I know,” he said gravely, looking at you as if you’d committed a crime. All you did was allow your feelings to grow too deep. 

You stepped forward, forcing him straight against the water fountain’s rim. Cold droplets of water fell on you, but you ignored them. 

“Do not ‘Your Highness’ me! I know what you know, how you feel! Elizabeth told me so!” you yelled, eyes wild. Was it so terrifying that you could…like him? Were you so bad? Or was it his own feelings that terrified him?

“And I don’t care! I- we - can make it work! Don’t you understand?”

“What is there to understand, Princess?” Lord Phantomhive asked, all too calm. If anything, he looked tired and surrendered before the fight had even begun. 

It was as if a dam had broken within you, one that had been keeping all your resolve at bay, separating your undulating desire and forcing it into a mighty rush, unwithstandable. Irresistible. Omnipotent. 

You reached upwards, your bare hands cupping Lord Phantomhive’s face as you balanced on your tiptoes to kiss him. You squeezed your eyes to a close as you kissed him with the most false confidence you had ever employed. It was novice and uncoordinated, but you made up for it with sheer passion. His lips were just as soft as they looked. Your lungs burned, reminding you of the long breath you were holding, but you didn’t care. 

You wouldn’t have noticed that your tiara had slid off if it hadn’t fallen against the cobblestone with a sickening crack. The sound forced you back to the land of the living. The real world, where you kissed your target, Ciel Phantomhive. 

Breathlessly, you retreated, standing on your feet properly. You refused to look at the meaningless relic behind you, even if it had shattered into a million pieces. If Phantomhive wanted to break eye contact, he would have to. 

He panted, but his pained gaze didn’t move from yours. Instead, Ciel bent down, his slender fingers resting on either side of your neck. From where he positioned them, his fingertips could feel your drumming pulse. Ciel’s hands were cold, contrasting your warm skin, heated by chasing after him. It sent shivers down your spine. 

He kissed you long and hard and just as cluelessly. Your heart pounded. Your legs felt weak, as if they might give in at any moment. 

Ciel kissed you, and it was like nothing you had experienced before. Not even the stolen kisses you suffered years ago, the ones plucked from your lips like a defenseless flower. This kiss wasn’t stolen. It was shared, warm, and sacred. 

Your fingers tugged at his jacket, demanding Ciel remain close. He tilted his head, clumsy lips keeping a soft rhythm with yours. It was as natural as your midnight duets, his violin slotting with your harp. Only now, it was his soft lips sliding and pressing with yours. The fit was perfect, like two puzzle pieces destined to connect to form a bigger picture. 

All you wanted was to be as close to the nobleman as you could manage. You craved the expanse of soft skin; you wanted to hear the overlapping thoughts speeding through his sharp, intuitive mind. The caustic, genius mind you came to enjoy.

You didn’t care who you’d need to hurt or what you’d need to keep the brilliant warmth burning in your chest. You’d do anything to make the sweet taste of Ciel’s lips familiar. He tasted like the oolong tea they served before they cut the wedding cake. 

Besides, what was stopping you?   

Elizabeth gave you her blessing, and if you’d need to pretend to be a princess for the rest of your life, you could bear it with Ciel at your side…so long as he never found out the truth. 

You could find a way to convince him Y/n was dead or a construct the Undertaker confirmed as some kind of hoax to tease the Queen’s Guard Dog. 

Before the thought of stopping had even crossed your mind, Ciel pulled away. He cautiously removed your hands from his waist by the wrists (when they moved there, you were unsure).

“There is nothing to make work, Your Highness,” Ciel Phantomhive said grimly, releasing your wrists. His lips, stained by your pink lipstick, were pursed. He sidestepped from where you trapped him between your body and the fountain, abandoning you yet again. 

. . .

Tags:

[alluringjae]

au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

⤑ summary: this is a story of an exhausted painter who needed a breather from the hectic city life. so aside from moving to the countryside, the needed air in your lungs also came in the form of a person. this summer meant for pure relaxation, perhaps your heart may dive into him too.

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 15.2k (so much for saying that i’ll be writing shorter stories)

⤑ genre: fluff, romance, smut | author!jaehyun, painter!reader, strangers to lovers!au, 50s-60s!au, summer love in france!au

⤑ warnings: me inserting some french phrases because I want to practice (feel free to correct me if I made mistakes, i’ll appreciate them), fictional interpretations of real-life people, explicit language, jaehyun being such a romantic pls im in tears, mentions and scenes of burnout (the worst)

⤑ playlist: everybody loves somebody by dean martin | c’est si bon by eartha kitt | it’s always you by chet baker | les yeux ouverts by emilie-claire barlow | a sunday kind of love by etta james | the most beautiful thing by bruno major | try again by jaehyun and d.ear (duh) | free love (dream edit) by honne | petite fleur by jill barber | plus je t’embrasse by blossom dearie | so this is love by ilene woods and mike douglas

⤑ author’s note: this was an idea that just came to me after pinterest kept recommending me poetic beauty/try again jaehyun, so here we are! i intended to write less than 5k words but sometimes plans don’t go as planned once you really invest in the story yet i’m really happy how this turned out!

the romantic exhilaration in my bones are off the charts because this is jaehyun we’re talking about lol enjoy!

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

3 juin 1957

The city life overstimulated your entire system, losing your brainpower and inspiration. Another exhibition that’ll feature your works with other influential painters was happening at the end of the year, and you had nothing prepared so far. You’ve crashed to the deep end of creative fatigue.

So you needed to get away again; somewhere quieter and surrounded by nature.

That’s why you ended up in the countryside down south, somewhere within Provence. It’s purely just for the summer, but extensions were okay as long you get back at least a month before the show. Filing that leave of absence at the studio you worked at was worth it.

You rented an apartment overlooking the marketplace, where the heart of the village was. After arranging things from your boxes and luggage the entire day, you found out that you lacked in the food department.  

So the succeeding day, the entire morning was spent on grocery shopping downstairs then stocking them inside your refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. Right after changing out of your pajamas into a flowy floral dress and sandals, you decided to bike to the bakery that locals suggested. A must-go place for newcomers, they all raved.

“Café des Étoiles Perdues.” (Café of Lost Stars.)

The clear chimes of the bell resounded through the small, cottage-like lobby as you entered inside. An old woman, whom you assumed was the owner, welcomed you openly.

“Oh la la, vous êtes belle! Vous vous appelez (Y/N), la nouvelle venue, n'est-ce pas?” (Oh la la, you’re beautiful. Your name is (Y/N), the newcomer, right?)

She complimented, making you shyly mutter your answer. Wiping off the flour from her apron, she introduced herself kindly.

“Je m’appelle Camille. Mes spécialités sont les macarons pisctaches et des croissants avec des amandes. Autre chose que tu aimes?” (I’m Camille. My specialties are the pistachio macarons and croissants with almonds. Is there anything else you like?)

“J'aime tout ce que vous suggères, Madame.” (I’d like anything that you suggest, Madame.)

A younger man, who went by Jaemin, was a part-timer barista who asked for your coffee order. As he directed you to the best seat of the café, which was outside overlooking the garden of blooming sunflowers, you pulled out your sketch pad so you could capture this dreamy view. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen in your life.

You’ve decided on a theme already for your exhibit thanks to your conversations with locals yesterday, which was related to freedom. After being chained to cities for so-called better living and financial standards, it’s actually how your inspiration to create squeezed the life out of you like a lemon. Although it was fun at first to see those tourist spots, it eventually got tiring.

Another matchstick to graze intensity through your bones was what you prayed for.

While you’re engaged in a rough sketch of the scenery, the dandy presence of a young man entered the café with his books. White shirt, red trousers with a matching beret, he sported freckles on his pale face. Despite visiting his favorite café numerously, Camille was overjoyed to see him and his serene smiles.

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

“Bonjour, Madame! I’m starving for your croissants because I ran out back home.”

“Not to worry! I’ll pack up some so you’re on your way.” She lightened him up like one of her kids, taking one of the bigger paper bags.

“No rush though, Madame. I’ll be reading and working here for a bit here.” Jaehyun affirmed, bringing it out his wallet and called out for Jaemin.

“Un café crème, s’il vous plait.” (One cup of cappuccino, please.)

Jaehyun’s usual chair was by the large window, overseeing the wide garden planted by the citizens of the village way before he was born. It was places like this he missed after moving to the city for his education and work’s sake. 

That’s the thing when you’re coming from a rich family; you don’t have much of say with what your parents order you to do. However, his recent request to stay in his childhood home (or mansion) again was fulfilled because he couldn’t search for what he needed in the cities anymore.

Jaehyun was a sucker for romance; an old romantic others would say. A lot of women mistook his kindness as flirting on many occasions, but ironically he just wasn’t looking for anyone yet. 

Starting as a novelist in the said genre based on real-life stories of people he met in Paris, Barcelona, London, and more, his stories were popular hits especially to young adults who aspire to find love one day.

However, traveling to the known places no longer felt fun as he got older. The stories he gathered were very similar, just in different languages. It took an enthusiastic dinner with his family, specifically his only older sister Krystal retelling fond stories from their younger years to get the idea of moving back for a bit. So consumed with the city life, he wanted to see things from another perspective.

What was the difference between a love story formed in the countryside than in the city?

It’s been a month since he arrived, but he didn’t hurry himself to do his research. He’s been reading books in his family library, revisiting monumental places, exploring around the village, and reconnecting with old friends as if he never left. 

Readjusting to his former life would make writing easier when he’s motivated enough to do it again. Besides, his books were profiting well enough to his taste; good enough for the next 10 years according to his personal accountant, Kim Jungwoo.

Jaehyun resumed reading this book his mother recommended him before he left. Entitled “Réessaye”, which was about a young man who reunites with his childhood sweetheart after his arranged marriage failed. After what she put her through, he’s hesitant whether to try again or let her go.

Jaehyun enjoyed reading books with realistic outlooks on love because he found them more meaningful, enlightening how exactly it makes you feel and do. Even if he enjoyed reading sappy, fairytale-like stories from time to time, he always returned to the real ones as they only displayed the truth.

That love isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but something that can also break you especially if you go after the wrong person. This kind of mindset was how he toiled on his stories, which gained him a status outside of his unavoidable labels such as “the only striking son of the Jeong family” or “Valentine Boy”.

He diligently browsed through the climax, where the main male character confessed all his constrained emotions to his sweetheart. But it was until Jaemin pressed the bag of croissants in front of his face after placing down his childhood friend’s drink to disturb his peace.

“Reading again?” He taunted, snatching his book away and throwing the bag on Jaehyun’s lap. “When are you writing that book already? Everyone is practically dying for you to release something new again!”

Jaehyun flatly shook his head, drinking his coffee quietly. It’s not the first time anyone asked (or pressured) him about his next release, and it’s the last thing he wanted to think about. “Not in the mood right now, Jaemin. Now off to work before Madame Camille scolds you again.”

“You’re just stalling because you have nothing to write, don’t you?” Jaemin cunningly expressed, raising a brow. He’s known to catch onto the people’s bs easily; the last person you’d want to say your secrets too and Jaehyun realized too late. Though lucky for him, Jaemin shut the topic down right away so he wouldn’t pop a vein.

“Sais-tu de la nouvelle venue dans le village, d'ailleurs?” (Do you know about the newcomer in the village, by the way?)

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

Being stuck at his mansion recently, news about village affairs were now late to him. Jaemin’s finger discreetly pointed outside the window, pertaining to a young woman sat outside painting her view in front of her.

That would be you, shading all the flowers in bright colors.

Seeing a new face amazed Jaehyun, especially when she was almost someone right out of a book. In a neat bun with white daisies printed in her dress, she crossed her legs whilst continuing her movements. She bit her lower lip, frustrated over an accidental smudge she made and trying to fix it by blending it with another color. When she accomplished it, she swapped brushes. A thinner one, to outline the shapes of the flower. Her lips curved to a smile after finishing another one perfectly with the rest.

“Jaehyun?”

Jaemin snapped his fingers to his distracted friend, zoning out the window. Still something he hasn’t stop doing, he pondered. With a final snap, Jaehyun broke away from falling hard from his abstract. Jaemin calculated the problem so quickly, analyzing his friend breezily like his medical school requirements.

“Elle est splendide, n'est-ce pas?” (She’s gorgeous, right?)

“Elle ressemble à une personne décente.” (She looks like a decent person.)

Jaehyun pushed it aside, flipping back to the page where he stopped reading. Before Jaemin responded, the door chimed open again to alarm him that a new customer came in. He excused himself to his friend, warning him that this wasn’t the last time he’ll talk about the newcomer too.

Jaehyun nodded along, not taking his friend’s cheeky words so seriously. However, the final result you attempted to create tickled his curiosity, so he slyly peeked from his book to the window.

You’ve freed your hair down, victorious to have started your collection this early in your break. A fantastic start, you let the paint dry first and munch on the croissant that served as your reward. However, you ‘re quick to notice a manly figure glancing through the window. From the side, his brown eyes appeared lively even if his entire face was hidden by the book.

Réessaye by Mark Lee; he must be a romantic. Every person in your studio read it, excluding yourself. Painfully beautiful, they’d summarize it.

Daring to meet more people, you locked eye contact with him. He didn’t expect it, almost flipping from his chair. Bashfully, you waved him a hello to somewhat break the ice. However, it broke his composure, and suddenly, he scurried off with his things from the café.

Now, you got quite worried. You checked your tiny mirror if he saw anything unpleasant with you, but you’d say you look relatively fine. Oh, maybe you could redeem yourself the next time you saw him. After bidding goodbye to Camille and Jaemin, the latter chased after you when you prepared yourself on your bike.

“By any chance, did you say hi to a guy with brown eyes and a red beret?”

“Well, more like I waved at him, then he zoomed out. Did I do something wrong?” You questioned with concern, putting your hands on the handles.

“That’s my friend, who’s quite reserved with strangers. I’m sorry on his behalf.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You brushed it off politely. “See you again soon, Jaemin!”

Peddling away, letting the cool breeze fan you, your mind reverted its thoughts to that strange man. Maybe you’ll give it some time; you had a lot of it.

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

The world must really be on your side with these good decisions because you crossed paths with the strange man again in the café a week later. But instead of running away, he asked nicely if he could sit across your free chair in front of your table outside. It was a Saturday, and the place was packed.

“Joignez-moi, s’il vous plait.” (Join me, please.)

You insisted, giving yourself time to subtly observe his physique a lot more. Freckles dotted under his eyes like a constellation, bushy eyebrows, pink cheeks to match his pale complexion, and wearing a fuzzy knit sweater that meshed well with his green beret. He had some sort of necklace too; there was a heart pendant.

“Vous êtes une artiste.” (You’re an artist.) The small wooden palette of paint beside your small sketch pad was exposed, finding it as a great icebreaker.

“Une peintre, spécifiquement. Franchement, les visuels ici sont trés captivants qu'à Paris.” (A painter, to be specific. Frankly, the visuals here are more captivating than in Paris.)

“Je suis d’accord,” (I agree,) Jaehyun leaned against his chair, taking a better look at you with the remaining light from the descending sun.

“Oh, vous êtes comme moi. J’habite à Paris aussi.” (Oh, you’re like me. I live in Paris too.)

“Bon, je suis née à Londres. Puis, j’ai déménagé où je voulais en Europe depuis j'avais 18 ans. Mais oui, j’habite définitivement à Paris maintenant.” (Well, I was born in London then moved wherever I wanted in Europe for inspiration since I was 18. But yes, I live permanently in Paris now.)

You clarified, beginning to enjoy his comforting company. Initiating conversations with people you’re not acquainted with wasn’t in your range of skills, though he didn’t have an intimidating vibe. He looked too youthful to act like that.

“Je m’appelle (Y/N), d'ailleurs.” (I’m (Y/N), by the way.) You stuck out your hand as a sign of respect, which he enthusiastically obliged.

“Salut, (Y/N). Je m’appelle Jaehyun.” [Hi, (Y/N). I’m Jaehyun.]

He kissed it in a gentleman fashion, applying the manners he’s been taught since he was a child. Should you have been flustered, but no.  It’s been a long time since anyone greeted you like that, specifically back home.

Throughout your talk, you learned more about who he was, his job, and what his life in the countryside is like. He was an author of romance novels, yet you’ve never heard about him prior. Heavily prioritizing your work, you don’t keep up with the new releases or trends at all. Though after mentioning his last name, it piqued your interest.

“Jeong? As in the business, Jeong Tea Inc.?”

“Correct.”

His family was one of the most affluent families in Parisian society. Old money immigrants from South Korea, they brought their tea business to France and it boomed successfully. You’re quite sure you’ve seen his parents in past exhibits, but never did you approach them because you were a rookie then. But he reassured you that it was fine, and to just treat him like you’d treat your friends. Plus, it came to your knowledge that he was the same age as you too.

He opened up how this village was where he lived his childhood, so he asked his parents if he could hand over their mansion for a while for rest. It then shocked both of you at how identical your reasons were for staying in the countryside.

“I’m burnt out from the city, so I’m trying to regain my spirit here hopefully. Besides, I needed a change of scenery after living there for 3 years. My longest stay yet outside of London!”

“I need new ideas for my books. The cities don’t charm me anymore, so I returned here for peace and quiet. Maybe let these ideas come to me rather than me going after them.”

From a bigger lens, people would conclude your interaction as a sight of two artists who passionately talk about their art. But to you, you’d interpret it as two relaxed, young adults in their twenties who simply wanted to run away from the pressures of their art and enjoy the summer as every young adult should.

Not cooped up in the studio or office, but innocently waltzing around with your youth while it’s still there.

début de juillet 1957

“Dépêche-toi, (Y/N)!” [Hurry up, (Y/N)!]

Jaehyun yelled at your open balcony from downstairs, parking his mini car beside your bike. He planned on taking you somewhere a little farther this time; to absolutely feel like one of the locals.

The countryside urged you to wear more dresses and flat shoes, so you took out a turquoise dress with a white scarf to wrap on top of your head. Like your relaxed fit, your mindset too was calm. Upon meeting him, he wore his round spectacles with a red knit sweater over a white turtleneck long-sleeved top. His fingers were adorned with silver rings, then around his neck was a thin black ribbon. He curled some of his hair again, a style you really liked of his.

You can’t lie, but this man could pull any trend or style and still look extra pretty.

Out of all the locals you’ve befriended in your stay, Jaehyun was always your companion. He took you to varying places that those locals don’t visit nor tourists acknowledge in their reviews for the past few weeks. For someone who hasn’t been in the village for a long time, his memory didn’t disappoint. His childhood was only filled with cheerful moments.

Today, he was taking you to a peaceful district of shops in the farther part of the village. It’s where he’d buy sweets, journals, and accessories with his mother, Krystal, and one of his housemaids every other weekend.

All the stores there were currently bombarded with blooming flowers along their alley, bringing more enticement to those who were roaming around. There was so much life here; the head waiter of one restaurant smiling at every passing customer, one florist handing a free flower to anyone who asks, and a young lady showcasing her jewelry collection to a bunch of women who looked like tourists.

“Cette librairie vendent des livres enveloppés dans du papier. Ma mère m'a offerte l'un d'eux pour mon anniversaire tous les ans comme une surprise.” (This bookstore sells books wrapped in paper. My mother gifted me one of them on my birthday every year as a surprise.)

He trained his attention at a rustic shop with open wooden windows giving a glimpse of their shelves.

“Avez-vous fini les lisant?” (Have you finished reading them?)

“Du début à la fin.” (From cover to cover.)

He took you to this rooftop restaurant overlooking the entire plaza. Since he didn’t arrange a reservation yet didn’t get rejected, he must know the owner. Especially how a lot of the staff gave casual hellos and high fives.

Speaking of the owner, he walked out of his kitchen to introduce himself to you. He went by the name Moon Taeil, another one of Jaehyun’s childhood friends whom he used to play at his house whenever his parents came along.

Gobbling up in the appetizing food Taeil prepared beforehand, Jaehyun brought up your painting exhibition again. He loved hearing artists talk about their works, wanting to know more about their driven mindset and what their imagination is like. After all, it does vary for everyone.

“So far,” You poked your fork through the chicken, taking a bite of it. “I’ve produced 3 paintings. The garden of flowers outside Café des Étoiles Perdues, the kids playing hopscotch in the alley, and the peach tree outside your house.”

“Woah, you’re on a roll.” Jaehyun clapped across you, pouring you another glass of water. He recalled the nights you ranted not having any clue what to do for the exhibit. Then after taking you to more places, he’s rewarded to see you be creatively active again. “How many artworks do you left to make?”

“Around 3-4 left. I have ideas already, but I’m still brainstorming.” You internally rejoiced, loving how much progress you’ve made. “How about you, Jaehyun? How’s your progress?”

Unlike you, Jaehyun still felt stuck. Although he did find couples around the village, none of them intrigued him as much as his past stories. But he won’t give up easily; that’s not in his work ethic.

“Still searching, but I’ll get there.”

Recently, you got ahold of some of Jaehyun’s books from him personally since they weren’t sold in the village. You wanted to understand how he became so well known outside the labels people put him under. Reading his first novel entitled “Des Papillons” (Butterflies), it was about a couple separated during World War II without contact or knowledge about their well-being. Yet whenever they saw butterflies on the day they parted, they took it as a sign that the other was alive wherever they were.

You’re always hanging on the cliff when the scenes revert back and forth to the main male lead getting stuck in intense war scenarios, rooting for him to get out alive each time. In the end, it took 7 years before they were reunited and wed.

Jaehyun had a wonderful way with his words and descriptions, managing to enwrap you in as if you’re also a character in the book. Like how you rooted for that male lead, you’re rooting for him to find his spark again.

Following this uplifting conversation, Jaehyun finally took to your greatly anticipated spot. It was the main viewpoint of Gordes, one of the most beautiful hilltop villages in the country. The sunset was about to hit, and the lights from the city across you slowly turned on like a bunch of dominos.

As you marveled at its aesthetics, Jaehyun leaned against the hood of his car. He sensed how in awe you were, more than you ever were in the city he assumed. So used to the city that being surrounded with nature became foreign to you.

He took out his polaroid camera from his trunk and captured a photo of you from behind. The shutter sounds were obvious, turning your back at the commotion. Jaehyun fanned the freshly printed photo to dry, giving a mischievous smile.

“What can I say? While you’re fawning over the view, mine was more enamoring.”

Although Jaehyun felt overwhelmed the first time he locked eyes with you, he can’t resist the power of his developing feelings for you. The more time he took you around, the more his heart found different details about you to admire. After listening to all those love stories in the past, the people he spoke to shared how there will be some distinct moment where your heart decides who they’re longing for.

That exact view of you by the cliff, he already knew.

He’s infatuated by you.

“Tu es très ringard, Jaehyun.” (You’re so cheesy, Jaehyun.) You scoffed sassily, with a hand on your waist.

“Un gentleman ne ment jamais, (Y/N). Allez, il fait nuit maintenant.” [A gentleman never lies, (Y/N). Come on, it’s night already.]

He cleverly responded, grabbing his car keys from his pocket. The trip back to the village was energizing, putting down the roof of his car to relish the chill breeze of the night weather. You even raised your arms in the air, losing your scarf even from the speed Jaehyun went at!

The two of you belted along to the songs on the radio when the fields were the only ones surrounding you, no neighbors to shout at your rambunctiousness.

The late-night hours drew by so quickly almost like dinner with more of Jaehyun’s friends didn’t happen. Arriving at the front doors of your apartment complex, Jaehyun raced over to your side to open your door. Always maintained proper observation of manners, you appreciated that side of him. Rarely anyone in Paris that you’ve encountered treated you that way because you were a foreigner.

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

“Bonsoir, Jaehyun. Quand est-ce que je te revois?” (Goodnight, Jaehyun. When can I see you again?)

“Demain et après-demain. Appelle-moi quand tu es libre.” (Tomorrow, and the day after that. Just give me a call when you’re free.)

With a short wave, you entered your building and marched up to the stairs. A good day only meant being tired to the core, ready to crash and fall in your soft bed. Opening your wide windows to let more of the cool breeze in, your eyes easily caught Jaehyun’s classy car still there. As for the owner, he didn’t move an inch from his leaning position.

“Rentre à la maison, Jaehyun! C’est tard!” (Go home, Jaehyun! It’s late!) You shrieked, peeking side to side to make sure none of the neighbors scold you.

Jaehyun laughed wholeheartedly, not budging at all. “La nuit ne fait que commencer, ma chérie.” (The night has just begun, my darling.)

“Comment tu m'as appelé?” (What did you call me?)

Either your ears were fooling you or he addressed you by a divine pet name. The gasp you swallowed, as your entire body tingled with exhilaration. Your mind would simply disregard it like his former teasing words, but your heart begged to differ.

Rather than responding with words, Jaehyun’s voice serenaded you with a wondrous song, C’est Si Bon by Eartha Kitt, that played on the radio earlier. Out of the blue, a random guitar accompaniment followed his baritone vocals.

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

Against the railing of your wired balcony, your body shifted forward to watch him better.

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

“C'est si bon de guetter dans ses yeux,”

It was like a lullaby, and here you were drowning in its peacefulness. Sensing the passion he gives off in his singing, your heart couldn’t refrain the strings inside from being swayed and tugged.

This was your moment of realization: that you too were smitten.

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

“Hello, nature!” You greeted brightly as your legs raced the huge garden in his manor. It was the first time he invited you over, too lazy to go out of the city. His social battery needed a recharge for the weekend, so a picnic within his home would do the trick. Additionally, it was an excuse to bring you over after the numerous times you’ve begged him to.

Jaehyun merely shook his head, enjoying the rush of childlike fun in your veins while you squealed and grazed your hands through the flowers.

He carried a wooden basket full of treats his family maids cooked, taking his time to venture through the rows of flowers. They were growing healthily and phenomenally these days, sometimes riding his bike to personally water them since he became busy with writing again. Lately, he found inspiration again, and so he wrote day and night to set them free.

“Voila!” You yanked out a sunflower, sniffing it a little. “Come on, Jaehyun! Pick up a few for our lunch!”

He followed your order, picking out some he found ideal. But just for fun, he put down the basket and carried you from behind out of the blue. You tried kicking him away, but his muscular arms can’t compete with your soft ones.

“What are you doing?”

“You said to pick up a flower, so I did. The prettiest of them all.”

His flirtatious words were never serious, yet you took it as a compliment. That’s how high your confidence is. Only we define our own worth, not others. The two of you chatted more about your lives until the first rain of the season poured down, chilling down from the raging heat. None of you had an umbrella; the weather was too unpredictable.

Deciding to just run for it, he gave you the wooden basket to protect yourself whilst he used the blanket you’ve sat on. Running with laughter to return to his mansion in the muddy dirt, the cool drops shivered your figure yet felt fantastic.

If you were in the city, you’d panic because it’d mess your appearance and your boss would be infuriated by your unprofessionalism. But in the countryside, it didn’t matter at all. The condition of the rain wasn’t budging to improve, getting stronger by the minute. His entire house even lost power, his housemaids having to bring candles to his bedroom and your assigned one once night dawned.

It was hopeless to return home for you, plus it’s dangerous to drive in in the dark, narrow streets too. Jaehyun handed you some of his fresh clothes so you’d be free from flinching from cold dress sticking to your body.

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

Nodding, you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You’d assume it’d be easy, but this was your first time in his house; a mansion even. Doors from left to right, long corridors that seemed never-ending, no maids were within the vicinity whom you can ask for guidance.

Resorting to return to Jaehyun’s chamber for help, you were taken aback by what your eyes laid on. In front of his full mirror, he discarded his now-dried shirt. Even with the dim lighting, you could make out that he was fit by the transparent view of his abdomen. Peeping like this was wrong, yet you couldn’t turn away just yet. The heat in your cheeks was inevitable, finding composure in such an unholy sight.

Though a gear in you suddenly twisted; a gear that straightened your nerves. You’re taking a bold move on the chessboard of your feelings. Wholly opening his bedroom door again, you leisurely sauntered inside without warning.

“Oh, (Y/N)! Ne peux pas trouver la salle de bain?” (Oh, (Y/N)! Can’t find the bathroom?)

Unbothered as he stood shirtless, you on the other hand silently dropped his clothes on the floor. Holding intense eye contact, your fingers graciously unzipped the side of your dress. Inch by inch, the tension built up like the strong tiny flames lit on the candles around you two. Joining the pile of clothes, all that remained were your white lace undergarments. Unplanned for the get-go, it’s the ideal set for your earlier outfit at the picnic.

“Je me suis perdue, mais je pense avoir trouvé quelque chose de mieux.” (I got lost, but I think I found something better.)

Your fingers grazed your arm up to your collarbones, faking your naivety. From your lust-filled stare, the glint in Jaehyun’s eyes darkened. He gulped at the revealing sight of you, brushing his hair back to restrain himself.

None of you could utter a single word, only the vivacious rain being the only sounds ringing around you. Thus, you allowed your actions to pursue precisely what you desired to do.

Taking baby steps towards him to test the waters, he met you right in the center and closed the leftover space. His hands cradled your face, whilst yours clung to his chest. His lips tasted like red wine, watching him pour in a glass for himself earlier. He did offer, yet you declined.

Your tongue darted his lower lip, gaining access after. Sensing the edge of his bed, you plopped yourself down the cushion. His knee urged your legs to widen, letting his body slide in. From your face, his fingers lowered to the back of your bra, snapping the clasps open.

“It takes skill to accomplish that in one try, Jaehyun.”

“I lived in Paris too, ma chérie. You out of all people would understand and have the experience.”

His palms massaged your freed breasts, throwing your head back even more to his pillows as his lips ravaged down from your stomach until the fabric of your not-so pure panties.

“Call me that again, please.”

“Ma chérie, seras-tu mienne?” (My darling, will you be mine?) He kissed and licked the tiny ribbon in front repeatedly, where your now-swollen clit laid. It electrified your bones, pulling on to his ruffled hair.

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

Sex in the form of one-night stands were all you’ve invested; upcoming artists like you weren’t capable to maintain long-term relationships. Les plans à trois even if you’re extra freaky or drunk from the afterparties of your events. All that these occurrences had in common were not seeing those men ever again after sneaking out of their apartments in the morning.

This time, it’s different.

When they said that doing the deed with someone you’re romantically entangled with was more special, they didn’t bluff. You could plan bits of your life, but it can sometimes change aspects of it when you least expect it. Sometimes for the best or the worst, but right now, it went beyond your expectations.

It’s rewarding that the man you’ve slowly fallen for within your stay returned your affections.

Around late 3 am that night, your brain jolted with artistic ideas that awoken your sonorous rest. There are no hopes of sleeping them off because they tend to bother you for hours until you do something about it. But you’re already so cozy having Jaehyun’s arms around you, skin to skin under the duvet. His lips daunted right above your forehead, recalling his endless kisses there that helped you fall asleep.

Well, these ideas don’t work themselves unless you do. Untangling him tactfully, you stepped out of the blanket and wore one of his long white shirts he gave you earlier before pulling out your sketchpad and palette of oil paints.

Luckily, there was still one available candle to use as the rest have melted indefinitely. You slid the matchstick again to the sand surface, boring a flame from the friction which you placed on top of the wick.

All your ideas that night leaned towards one thing, or person rather: Jaehyun.

You spent a few minutes retracing how he vividly looked at the picnic, leaning back from the chair of his work desk. His outfit of a turquoise turtleneck underneath a white button-top with trousers matching the said turtleneck looked good together, how his ears tingled red after you complimented his newfound inspiration for his book, and the prominent veins in his arms when he rolled his sleeves due to the heat.

The thin brush you held defined the shape of his face, then paying attention to the messy strands of his hair. Stroking in a circular way to outline his eyelids, a hoarse grunt disturbed the peaceful silence.

“Get back in bed, ma chérie.” His eyes drowsily opened, lying on his side. The moment he no longer felt your warmth, he worried something happened. Instead, you’re working late at night after quite a rough yet romantic night.

“Shush,” You shunned him down with your index finger. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“Perhaps, are you painting me?” He hunched from the covers. “Your eyes looking back and forth would never lie to me, would they?”

“Maybe…” You teased, batting your eyes at him without any risky intentions. Or not?

He deeply chuckled, sluggishly removing himself under the covers. In his pure nudity, he advanced himself towards you. You shrieked, covering yourself with your free hand.

“Jaehyun, stay back! I told you I’ll be there soon!”

Not listening, he carried your bridal style, making you drop your precious palette to the fur rug. Laying you carefully, he popped each button open. By the sight of his cock hardening again, you knew you were in for another round with him.

“Wet again, ma chérie? Oh, this will be fun.”

Fin de juillet 1957

So this kind of summer romance concept that everyone fantasized about… it became your present.

Together you’d stroll in the smaller streets and immerse yourselves in the unique culture of the village. Whenever anyone saw you together, holding hands, biking, or what-not, they’d praise in the name of love for bringing you both together. A romance like yours in the countryside was a lively sight.

Remember how extensions were a possibility if your search for inspiration wasn’t found? Well, it’s not a question that you’d make one, except inspiration found you instead. And he had one arm around you as he slow danced with you in the open grounds of the village, listening to the live band covering song classics.

In particular, Chet Baker. He was Jaehyun’s favorite artist at the moment.

There was an ongoing week-long festival dedicated to summer, giving more plants their bloom and spreading gratitude to the hardworking people. Especially the students, off on their break.

The faint radiance from the post lights as Jaehyun swayed you around, making you laugh as he tried to mumble the lyrics of the song. All those glasses of wine he tried earlier with you from the bartender offering it for free had its effects, and you weren’t off the hook from them either.

Blisters started to form from your ankles, adjusting to the new pair of heels Jaehyun gave (or insisted to buy) you a while ago after staring at them like lasers. You’ve always provided things for yourself that being spoiled by someone else felt weird to you.

“If there’s anything you want me to buy for you, just tell me.”

“How can I buy you if you’re already mine?”

His smooth talk often made you punch his shoulder, but it’s just a mechanism to hide the exhilaration.

Under each other’s spells in your dance, you laid your head on Jaehyun’s chest. Feeling the strong beat of his heart, you were reminded of how much life he’s filled with. And you became a part of it, in the same way he crossed yours.

Jaehyun’s lips sank to the top of your head, pecking it affectionately. The first-ever summer where he wasn’t stuck at his desk working or drinking his life away with his rich friends in their Parisian homes, it couldn’t get better than this.

“Oiii! Flirtez ailleurs!” (Oiii! Flirt somewhere else!) The distinct voice of Jaemin, handing out pastries to passersby, shouted at the both of you, making you flip your middle finger at him.

“Trouve une copine d’abord, d’accord?!” (Find a girlfriend first, alright?!) You shouted back jokingly, almost falling due to the ache of your feet. Your immodest behavior was censored by Jaehyun’s large palms, not wanting the kids around to see it. Whispering closely to your ear,

“Tu es ivre. Laisse-moi te ramener chez toi.” (You’re drunk. Let me take you home.)

You changed back into your sandals as Jaehyun led you through the different alleys. Your vision was too hazy to navigate, so he had one arm wrapped around your shoulders. The weather grew cold too, shivering your bones so he draped you in his blazer.

“Wait,” You stopped, making him do the same. But before he could ask for your reason, your hands yanked him by his suspenders and your legs walked backward to reach the brick wall. Standing in his 5’11 glory, you were overpowered.

Yet your lips captured his effortlessly, raising to your toes to press yourself closer to him. He moved fast, one arm hugging your waist while the other hoisted your leg up. Tangling around his waist, the urge to move your hips against his crotch couldn’t be contained any longer.

Everyone was probably still out at this time or sleeping. The sloppy sounds you’ve produced were beyond suitable for any audience. Not to mention, the nasty words Jaehyun’s pretty mouth spoke in your ears desired you to fall to your knees.

“Not afraid of getting caught, ma chérie? You want me to ruin you right here, right now?”

“God, Jaehyun,” Your hands tugged his belt forward, the friction it gave to your core twitched the naughty side out of you. “Do it, please.”

The idea of public sex thrilled your mind into overdrive, yet you’ve never done it. In Paris, a city where several people started to know your name, you didn’t need a scandal to be plastered in your resume yet.

Jaehyun himself included, and still opted not to give it to you.

“Another time, ma chérie. Your apartment, now.”

The moment you unlocked your apartment door, Jaehyun was far from gentle like in the mansion. Ripping you out of your frilly dress didn’t take long, so was unbuttoning his trousers down to the floor.

On your knees, his hand gave you a makeshift ponytail as your tongue flicked the slit of his cock. Then slowly taking him inch by inch on your mouth, you’d let out a loud pop when you needed to breathe. Your hands fondling his balls, he groaned from the edge of your bed and tightened his hold on you. Tears formulated in your eyes as you got to swallow him whole, uncontrollably bobbing your head.

He felt like putty when he released, your throat taking the salty base. You hastily unhooked your bra in front of him when suddenly, his hand flicked on the fabric of your panties, cueing you to stop your motion.

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

Straddling on his lap, his head laid against the headboard of his bed. His arms roaming around your back to stabilize you, your fingers pushed your panties to the side as you pushed yourself down his protected length. Your moans became shaky. Up and down, you bounced while bracing on his shoulders.

Against his ear, your moans were harmonious. His hips moved against your beat, hitting your g-spot like the sexual ace he is. His thumb rubbing your clit, you shuttered your eyes at the impending high approaching you like a bus.

“I’m close.” You choked out, the overstimulation overwhelming your nerves.

“Fuck, me too.” He grunted, slapping your butt that made you shriek.

Soon enough, everything hit you both all at once. The knot snapped, and so did your body falling on his chest after a single scream. Panting, Jaehyun pecked on your temple as his cock softened up. Once you returned to your senses, you lifted yourself from his length, laying bare beside him.

His eyes started to fall, but before they did, he muttered huskily. “Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

It was the first time he’s said those words in the way they meant, and he’s more than certain that it’s what he felt with you. Sure, it started as mutual infatuation, but now, it can’t leave. Not on his watch.

Love was a concept unfamiliar to you, but Jaehyun slowly taught you what it was and how it felt like. Books and films may give sneak peeks, but to personally give and receive it back was made possible by him.

From this moment on, you could conclude that yes, you reciprocated it.

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

The leaves switched into red-brown shades, the weather in the south was warmer, and the wine harvest was highly anticipated. Jaehyun’s camera was a common item in your outings, taking as many photos as he could so the two of you had something to look back on.

Planned and candid, his range was wide. These were moments that proved that your youth was as happy as you wished it to be. You wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Painting in his mansion was a regular thing, having new canvases prepared at his patio. There were so many items that amused you there like you could base your entire collection on his home. It’s not like Jaehyun could argue; it meant more time with you whenever you came over.

“Jaehyun, if you smudge paint on me, so help me Go-” He refused to listen to your “threats”, smearing black paint on your cheek.

“You were saying?” He cockily pestered, showcasing his paint-filled fingers. You dipped one of your brushes into the new paint and chased after him without hesitation. The entire evening became a paint war, a laugh fit even after seeing your reflections in the mirror. But before you could clean yourself, Jaehyun’s camera was by your face and he pressed the button.

“Still breathtaking.”

But the middle of the season arrived, that’s where your planned extension you’ve reached its end. The exhibit was next month, getting calls from your boss regarding your return and the paintings you’ll present. You informed her that you already had them mailed to your studio way back, so there’s nothing much to worry about.

All your bags were packed in the private car Jaehyun rented. Here, you’re bidding your goodbyes to every friend you’ve made outside the doors of your apartment complex, saving your last words with Jaehyun.

The night before, he stayed over and helped you pack your last items in luggage bags. He even brought extra clothes for you so you wouldn’t work extra. You’ve talked it out the whole evening through what happens next to ease your worries. In your bed, he opened the wide windows and pulled you under the sheets.

“Write to me.”

“Call me when you’re free, or whenever you feel like it.”

Leaning against the railing of the stairs, watched the sorrow in your face over this parting. He sensed how bittersweet everything was, but he wouldn’t change anything about it. He’s positive that your story won’t end here, not right now.

Sauntering to him, you sighed whilst taking your bag he held the whole time from him. His touch was tighter as the two of you hugged tenderly, nuzzling his head on your shoulder. The scent of his citrus cologne that implanted in your brain felt comforting, despite the uncertainty of everything between you.

You hinted a minty taste from the menthol candies from his home as his lips brushed yours, colliding it timely. He waited when everyone left, relishing these last seconds.

Stepping inside the vehicle, you waved your summer love farewell one more time before the driver hit the pedal. Your eyes couldn’t stray away from looking back, the distance between him and your former apartment widening. Only when he was no longer in the frame, you shifted your focus back in front.

Your fingers fiddled with the charm bracelet he gifted you from the market. It was custom-made by a jeweler who was great friends with his mother in his younger years. There were two pendants chained on it: a paintbrush and the sun.

“A paintbrush to remind you of your passion, and the sun to remind you of the summer we first met.”

The man was like one of his romance books, in human form. He knew how to catch your breath effortlessly.

Your stay, for now, may have concluded, but there was always next summer. And the ones after that. The village felt like a second home, one you can’t neglect like the other places you’ve lived. Then having Jaehyun here, the more reasons to return.

Undoubtedly the best vacation you’ve ever been in your adult years, one that didn’t sacrifice for your art so you could compete with other artists. The weight on your chest poofed into thin air, and you felt ready for what the next steps as a painter were.

Appreciating the greenery you passed by, you peeked over the side mirror of the car only to find Jaehyun quickly biking in your direction.

Now, what was he up to?

You instantly requested the driver to slow down his pace, rolling down the window of the car. Not caring about the strong winds, “You fool, what are you doing?!”

Although he trusted your last words, he had the greed to see your face again. It would be a long time until he’ll see you in person again. So he pedaled as fast he could to still reach you. Oh, the things you do when you’re in love.

“Mon cœur bat la chamade pour toi, (Y/N)!” [My heart beats loudly for you, (Y/N)!]

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

“Je reviendrai bientôt, Jaehyun!” (I’ll come back soon, Jaehyun!)

21 octobre 1957

Only your friends at the studio gave you a warm welcome back, receiving comments like “get back to work” from your first encounter with your boss. Popping a champagne glass open after work hours on the rooftop of your studio, they interrogated you with all the questions they could think of.

“So this village in Provence…. was it beautiful as the tourists said?” Ten, who moved from his home in Thailand to Paris at a young age, expressed his curiosity whilst leaning against the railing overlooking the Eiffel Tower.

“Beautiful is an understatement, Ten. I miss it dearly!” You heaved a sigh, twirling your glass.

“So this inspiration you were looking for…” Amélie, your dear friend since your university days, created some tension as she prolonged her last word. Playfulness twinkled in her eyes, crossing her legs. “Was a person involved by any chance?”

For a moment, your throat almost gagged on the sizzling alcohol going down.

“What do you mean?” You acted clueless, pouring your now empty glass with more booze. But the moment Ten gave you the troublesome look coordinating with Amélie, you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. These two were such gossips in and out of the studio.

Ten took the seat across you on the table and leaked all his pent-up information.

“So you know Seo Youngho, the only son of the Seo family. Rich, socialite, a total hotshot… yeah, all that jazz.” He dived in, seeing you nod over knowing that man. Someone in the past you’ve slept with, but that’s another story. “Well, Amelie and I attended one of his parties at his large penthouse. He had his usual crowd there; Kim Doyoung, Lee Taeyong, Nakamoto Yuta, and Lee Minhyung. But fun fact: there’s another member in that friend group who doesn’t go to these kinds of events.”

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Amélie excitedly took off like the pipelette (chatterbox) she is. “Youngho, who was talking to us for a bit, asked where you’ve run off. Poor him, he must’ve missed you in his bed but anyway! We told him that you went down south somewhere in Provence for a break. Oddly enough, he mentioned how the mentioned member moved back there for the same reason.”

Ten and Amélie gave each other another frisky look, merely to piss you off. So predictable of them.

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

“Jeong Jaehyun, ever heard of him?” Amélie imitated your tone of voice. “I mean, you should since you made a whole painting of him.”

“H-How,” Speechless, that’s what you were. Ten went on a fit of giggles, signaling the build-up of his intoxication.

“Youngho visited the studio to find a specific painting for his home, and we helped him in choosing. Then when your deliveries of paintings arrived that day and were unwrapped, the look on his face when he saw Jaehyun’s painting was priceless. Things started to add up, especially when he told us that he called up Jaehyun prior, he said that Jaehyun was seeing a girl during his stay there.”

“A young, burnt-out painter from Paris, to be specific.”

They’ve put you on the edge of the cliff, and it was too close to call it a coincidence. Of all things to be revealed, this had to be the first.

“Well, I was waiting for another time to tell you guys about him though.”

Their gasps of joy could give you guys a noise complaint by the neighbors, telling all about your escapades of him and you. During it, the more you missed seeing him daily either on his bike or his car. It was stuck in your routine, but now it’s reverted to your old one.

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

Perhaps your newest collection at the Louvre was your most successful one yet.

Entitled “Inspirez, Expirez” (Breathe In, Breathe Out), your sceneries during your stay in the village varied. An old couple slow dancing under the night sky, and the quiet district of shops Jaehyun took you, those were some of your last additions.

A multitude of positive reviews on the newspapers and art magazines came in, commending on taking on a fresher, brighter outlook for a change whilst finding your spark again. As fulfilling it was, what you longed the most was the one responsible for it.

Lately, it’s been tough to contact him. His maids always answered the calls, informing you that he was busy with work or family matters. It’s so rare for him to act like this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t grand or serious hopefully.

Back to your collection, tonight was the last night of it. Just in time for Valentine’s day, where numerous socialite lovers embarked on this event, but you’re more fixated that it was also Jaehyun’s birthday. A boy full of love born on the day dedicated for it, things made more sense. In case, you’ve sent your birthday wishes to him through letter and passing the message to one of his maids. Even on his special day, he hasn’t reached out to you.

But to momentarily forget about that, there was a closing ceremony held for this exhibit with the other artists involved, and it was your turn to give your final remarks. More esteemed socialites and journalists were present, which didn’t halt your nerves the slightest. You were a professional after all, holding pride in your craft as you stood in front of the microphone wearing your new favorite custom-made gown.

There are perks when you have close friends in the fashion industry, specifically Kim “Key” Kibum from the House of Key. After defending him from a disrespectful client when you were picking up a dress for your boss during your internship years, not only did you earn his respect, but an invite to his shows and first claiming of new items from his collections. Dining in expensive restaurants in the metro was a plus, catching up on your lives. Sometimes calling each other out for your sexcapades too.

Speaking of him, he was in the crowd that night, ordering every photographer to take photos of your gorgeous self in one of his dresses. Or in your opinion, bribing some by how he stuffed a few thick stacks of Euro bills down their pockets.

Only one of it ever made. A dark green satin v-neck off-the-shoulder gown, where diamonds adorned your neck and ears and white stilettos kept your perfect balance. Also courtesy of Key.

Because it’s the winter season, he gifted you a limited edition white fur coat every socialite tried getting their hands on. Your hair was styled in a bun, emphasizing your dark tinted lips from this new lipstick Amelie insisted you buy.

Most people would get the first impression that you were one of the socialites, a child from one of the affluent families even. But you were a lot more remarkable than that, having inborn talent in the arts that you specialized over your youth and rising to the top without any parental help.

“Thank you to everyone for their endless support towards the magnificent collections of each artist present. As for mine, I am grateful to rechannel my creative side by taking a break. Rather than romanticizing overworking our bones to the core, there’s nothing wrong with taking a step back from the pressure. Being alive is a blessing, realizing further how our youth won’t stay with us forever. Being away from the boisterous cities, I found relaxation in the countryside of Provence.”

Your lips quirked into a grin as every single memory during that time reeled in your head like a movie. “The beauty of Provence cannot be simply put in words. The muses I’ve encountered were more than lovely, especially the man behind the Poetic Rose. With that, I sincerely thank everyone from my bottom of my heart and I hope to continue to support me in the years to come.”

The applause roared once you stepped down the platform, shaking hands with every esteemed guest with more gratitude as they praised you. These days, socializing with them was a lot easier. You’ve even taken more initiative to greet people first before they do, conversing with them easily about anything.

Key definitely noticed that as you toured him around your section, holding his nth glass of wine for the night.

“You, Madame (Y/N), transformed into a social butterfly.” He nudged your shoulder, smirking once he got a better view of his favorite painting from you. “I guess that’s the thing when you’re in love.”

“I beg your pardon?”

With this free hand, he motioned it up and down at the painting in front of you. “The Poetic Rose is none other than the youngest son of the Jeong family, whom I’ve met through his older sister, Krystal.”

“Am I really the only one who doesn’t know him?!” You stressed, jokingly. Key was elated to capture you in his trap, the changes of your personality too evident in his eyes. Figuring it out that it was love took a while, but being acquainted with Krystal, she’s the one who told him that her younger brother was in love with a painter in Provence. Do the math.

“I’ve met him through his older sister, one of my highly favored clients. He’s not much of a socialite like her, so I don’t really blame you for that.”

Searching for a waiter to refill your wine glasses, a surprise emerged the both of you.

“Madame Krystal, you’re absolutely stunning.”  Key complimented her, giving the engaged heiress of Jeong Tea Inc. kisses on the cheek as respect. Her recent engagement to Kim Donghyun, her childhood sweetheart and also the heir of Kim Couture, was the talk of the town.

They arrived at the event together, drawing the attention of everyone in the room earlier. Now, he was speaking to a few influential socialites he made a deal with this week about the art collections present.

“Key, you never fail to look fantastic,” She remarked positively, poking his necktie before placing her undivided attention on you. “So you must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’re beyond bewildering in that gown.”

“Flattered to hear that, Madame Krystal. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

The three of you chatted as if you were the only people there. From art, passion, and love, pride filled in your chest when you toured your collection. It was like walking down memory lane for her, adding out how she used to climb the peach tree with her younger brother during their childhood. Once her eyes laid on Poetic Rose, she took her time admiring it.

“My younger brother grew up well. That’s all I could ever hope for as his only older sister.” She paused, noticing how silent you became when you stared at the painting along with her. She observed the passion lit in your eyes, yet there was longing behind it by the way your lips pouted briefly. “You must really love him, do you?”

“I do, truly. After meeting him, not only was I boosted with so much ideas, but my heart embraced him for what and who he is in this universe.” You professed confidently, earning an approving smile from Krystal.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell him that yourself?”

Her fingers gestured you to turn around. Stood in a grey suit with his brown hair slicked back, it was like seeing a completely new person. A handsome one though. His fashion in the countryside heavily differed from his fashion in the cities. So sophisticated and refined, he looked like a prince straight out of a fairytale.

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

It’s like everything stopped once he sprinted towards you, pulling you off your feet for a snug hug. Your arms threw themselves on his neck by instinct, not wasting a single second in his grasp. Your nose inhaled the woody scent of his cologne, something more formal than his usual fruity scent.

The smell of aftershave in his jaw couldn’t go ignored either, assuming that he must have had plans to go out tonight. Nonetheless, you squealed as if you were back in Provence, giggling at his boldness. Once he put you down, neither of you could get your hands off each other.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you’d be in Paris!” Clutching your waist, you gazed at him with doe-like eyes, instilling confusion.

“J’ai voulu te surprendre, my chérie.” (I wanted to surprise you, my darling.)

He chuckled, pushing some straying strands of your hair behind your ear. His eyes evoked so much endearment towards this elegant look you prepared, making his heart race as if he were in the gardens of his manor again.

Hearing his petname for you again attacked your heart every time no matter how much time passed, he lifted your chin high. Jaehyun urged himself to kiss you senseless right there, leaning lower. And yes, you anticipated it by how your eyes instantly closed.

Only if it weren’t for Krystal to clear her throat, obviously ruining the mood. Flinching away from your sensual lover, you rubbed the nape of your neck. Towards an heiress like her, it must’ve been unprofessional.

“Couldn’t you at least wait until I left, younger brother?” Her fingers flicked Jaehyun’s forehead, a teasing trick they used to do as kids. Even if she was a lot shorter now, it didn’t mean the impact was weak. He cursed under his breath, covering his forehead.

Stifling your laughter was a failure, crinkling your eyes to unleash your emotions. So this is what their sibling dynamic was like?

“Now excuse me, older sister. You didn’t tell me you were visiting the exhibit after my birthday dinner with our parents?” He crossed his arms, exchanging a judgmental look. For his sake, he wanted to maintain his pride. “All you said after dinner was that you were going straight home with your fiancé after all the alcohol mother gave you because it made you lightheaded.”

“Well, you know Key and his persuasiveness. He insisted I attend this event last minute because all the collections were amazing.” She explained, shedding a subtle glance at you. “Plus, it’s an excuse to finally meet this lovely girl you raved so much through your letters.”

Jaehyun kept his family life private, so this piece of information was new to you. The unpredicted way the fluttering feeling drew in your stomach, all you could do was smile from the flattery.

“He spoke about me to you?”

“More than speak, my dear. He practically professed his love for you, asking me advice on how to court a girl, make them smile, etcetera. You’re the first girl he’s been this affectionate with, and I completely understand now.” She patted your shoulder, hopeful. She had such a strong older sister vibe, reminding you of your older siblings back home. “You’re a clever, talented woman. I look forward to seeing you more often.”

As you nodded in approval, she turned towards her brother with her recurring teasing look. “Yah, Jaehyun. You better take care of her. If she ever sheds a tear because of you, I’m hunting you down in the gardens.”

“Harsh of you, Krystal.” He planted his hand on his chest, feigning pain. “But no worries. Having you and mother around me kept me well-mannered towards women growing up.”

Playfulness aside, Krystal felt honored towards her younger brother. Men these days maintained their sexist beliefs and rudeness, especially those who doubted her high position in the family business once her father stepped down. Nowadays, it’s men like Jaehyun who could really challenge the patriarchy and make women pursue a lot more than being limited as a housewife.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now please excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Krystal waltzed her way out without tripping from her slight intoxication, which Jaehyun worried about earlier. But anyway, that left him alone with you. Filled with so many questions, you didn’t know where to start.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Paris? Why didn’t you acknowledge my birthday wishes to you? Why aren’t you answering my calls and letters?” You blurted without wasting a breath, weren’t trying to come off as needy, but it became peculiar when he was contacting you like usual.

You pushed off thinking of the worst scenarios, not wanting it to ruin your drive and your emotions either. Yet you trusted Jaehyun enough to know he wasn’t the type of person either.

“Okay slow down, ma chérie.” His hands maneuvered for you to stop for a bit. “Ask me one by one and I’ll give you a solid answer for each while we roam around.”

He arrived in Paris last week, which was initially for work. Then his birthday clashing was a coincidence. It would be too lonely to go home and celebrate his special day alone, so he extended. But again, it’s his work that caused his abrupt contact.

When you were too busy delving into the success of recovering your inspiration, he also found his spur to write again too. Day and night, his mind kept him tedious with an endless trail of thoughts and words. Overall, he finalized it then brought the end product to the same publishing house where his books in the past went through.

In fact, he decided to publish them specifically today on his birthday. The only day in his itinerary he planned, where after publishing, he’d hang out with his friends, have dinner with his family then run off to reunite with you.

“I didn’t intend to make you feel like a second choice, so please forgive me for that, ma chérie.”

“All is forgiven, Jaehyun.” You held both his hands, kissing them tenderly out of habit. “I’m overjoyed that you rekindled your creative side again.”

You were so understanding and empathetic, and Jaehyun aimed to act that way too. He learned so much from you as his friend before being his lover. Quickly enough, you’re both back to his portrait in the center. Like a critic, he narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose. Tapping his chin with his finger,

“This man in Poetic Rose, he’s quite dashing.” He commented with conceit, walking closer to it to view it better. “His freckles are on point, his dimples and dazzling eyes too. Why exactly is he described as a Poetic Rose?”

“Well sir,” You stood beside him, imitating his actions. “This man here always spoke so eloquently, like he had a very poetic approach on life. He reminded me also of a rose by his rosy tinted cheeks and his beauty. He was alluring inside and out.”

“Is he your favorite muse?”

“I never quoted him as a muse because he’s more than that. Muses can be replaced once they no longer serve purpose towards the artist. Though with him, he’s the never-ending flame that I want to keep for the rest of time."

You held on to his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. The apparent reddening of his ears proved that he was flustered, yet you spoke no lies.

“Joyeux anniversaire, ma flamme.” (Happy birthday, my flame.)

“Merci beaucoup, ma chérie.” (Thank you, my darling.)

Something about his new release piqued your attention so you brought it up again.

“So tell me about your new book.”

“Let me show you instead.” Inside the blazer, there was an inner pocket that sealed a small hardbound book. Taking it out, he handed it over to you. “This is your copy.”

The cover of the book had an illustration of two young adults running down the fields under the bright sun, with the title written in cursive and placed in the center.

“L’Été de 1957.” (The Summer of 1957.)

Like a child who received a new gift in the mail, you flipped the book open. Seeing the table of contents and credits to other important people involved in the process, there was a detailed dedication right before the starting chapter. It’s an unexpected page, noticing that he never put anything like this in his last works.

“Pour ma chérie, qui a peint les couleurs manquantes de ma vie.” (For my darling, who painted the missing colors of my life.)

Although Jaehyun planned to write about the couples he met in the countryside, he chose to change his perspective. Instead, he based this new book on your summer romance, installing more original characters who made your romance blossom more.

“I was once so engaged in listening to people’s love stories, hung up on what they felt.” He expounded, pacing around the floor whilst you skimmed through the pages. There were black and white photos from your adventures too to wrap the reader further in the story.

“While I was struggling to find the next story, I realized late that my story with you was a perfect choice. When I fell in love with you, it’s like I didn’t have to fret anymore about anything. Everything slowly yet surely aligned into place for me. Like how we found inspiration in each other.”

A poetic speaker meant having a poetic, wise mind. You kept an open mind whenever Jaehyun shared his thoughts on life with you, an intimate time that didn’t require using your bodies. Whether you were stargazing or drinking wine by his patio, his soulful personality never changed.

“So I recapped every single memory we had and compiled them,” He resumed, taking a closer step towards yours. His warm hands grasped your waist again, catching a glimpse of your astonished face. Mostly, towards your lips that he missed feeling against his.

“This book expressed my own take on love this time, the one I want to grow in.”

You’d care less if you dropped the book and your coat right there, your major desire to kiss him again was driving your senses to the edge of a cliff. Nothing could’ve braced yourself the second you fervently collided your lips with his. It didn’t feel like you were in this exhibit, but somewhere back in his mansion engulfed in each other’s presence.

Your legs almost melted by your daring move, if it weren’t for Jaehyun’s arm moving upwards to your back to stabilize you more. Your body tingled with goosebumps due to his relaxing fingers all over your body. His tongue caved in your lips, and you couldn’t ban its access.

Such an explicit sight, it felt forbidden as you were inches away from the public crowd. Yet it was the least of your worries if they made a big fuss over it. Jaehyun was here again with you, and that was more valuable to you. He savored every trace of your touches, taking his delicate time with you. No past birthday could defeat this, especially when it’s the first one to celebrate with you. The first of many.

As much you wanted to keep this up for hours, your lungs started feeling constricted of air so your lips timidly let go. Though your hands couldn’t, your overwhelmed eyes couldn’t shift away from the heart-stopping view of your lover. Wherein even after such a fearless session, his eyes fused with love and need with his plumper lips.

“Everything about Provence, especially you, that’s the life I want.” You confessed this concealed secret that’s revolved your head for a while now. Yet its certainty was true.

“Are you sure, ma chérie? What about work?” As an artist, he believed you should stay where everything is accessible. Yet as his woman, he wanted you to follow your heart. Jaehyun didn’t want you to choose or struggle.

“I’ve grown out from the idea that the city life was the only life meant of an artist like me.” You replied, confident enough to discuss it after deep thought. “Cities like Paris hold exciting, vigorous flames that will have you clinging on to them. But then, they’ll eventually die the longer you stay. You get burned in the process too. However, I stand by what I said earlier. I found an endless flame when I met and began loving you, Jaehyun. It doesn’t sting at all; it illuminates strongly every living day.”

Urging him to lower his stance with your fingers, you stated one last phrase. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“If that’s the case,” Jaehyun acknowledged, sticking his arm out for you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Astounded expressions crowded the socialites in the event as they watched the both of you exit together. If the news of Krystal and Donghyun weren’t crazy enough, some journalists figured the mysterious man behind The Poetic Rose and spread it like wildfire.

How was the youngest son of the Jeong family turned renowned romance novel author connected to the impressive, up-and-coming painter from London?

What really went down in Provence?

“How can you miss out on the signs? Did you not see them share a kiss earlier?” Key protested to those who weren’t approving whatever relationship you guys had. He loved his tea but hated those who simply were money hungry. Wanting a chance to be a part of the rich family, only to fish them out of their riches sooner or later.

Meanwhile, the winter season didn’t stop any of you from roaming the streets of Paris. Moments like these were a preview of the future you’ve envisioned with Jaehyun. Youthful, free, and fiery, a love between two artists created more magic not just in their crafts but to those around them.

Promenading a street overlooking the Seine River, Jaehyun took out a smaller instant camera from his pocket and took a candid shot of you. Stunned, you slapped his chest with your bag.

“Hey! Just how many more things are hidden in your blazer?”

“Just my wallet and a few condoms. Why’d you ask?” He raised a suggestive brow, feigning good intentions.

You hummed, faking your deep thought mindset. “At this rate, I don’t think we’ll make it back to my apartment alive.”

Jaehyun tugged you by your coat, his lips hovering your ear to whisper. “If we call a cab right now, I can finger you in the backseat.”

You chuckled at his vulgar idea, but it seemed ideal. You loved the thrill of getting caught or having someone overhearing you two, just like him. Besides, his fingers don’t match up to yours when you touch yourself alone in your apartment. You bat your eyelashes, giving in.

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

Summer returned, the sun strongly smiling down to the plentiful flowers at your family garden. By the patio of your home, your canvas was already laid by the easel stand. Shades of yellow were applied first to symbolize the brightness of the day, following the outline of your desired scenery for this piece.

Dipping the brush in water to change colors, you took another glance at the breezy sky. Light blue with clouds resembling soft pillows, you inhaled gently as your brush faintly stroked the canvas again.

Your hair was tied in a bun, meaning that you’re in for a busy session. But a more soothing one as the jazz music flowed from the vinyl player inside. Stress was the last thing you needed right now.

“What’s madame artiste up to right now?” Your husband piped in from behind, placing down a tray of tea and crackers. With some top buttons of his white top left unattended, you glimpsed on his toned chest when he leaned down. But you mustn’t pry whilst working, even when temptation was calling your name repeatedly.

“The summer sunshine healed me of my discomfort, so I think it’s about time I painted again.” You chewed on the snack, looking back and forth to the view. As enchanting as all the flowers you and him planted over the years grew, you’re more amused by a little boy strolling around it with his magnifying glass and tiny wooden basket with his furry puppy by his side.

His tiny legs often troubled the two of you because he enjoyed spending time with nature. Only God knows what he found in the garden this time.

“Adrien est explorer encore. Devrais-je lui dire qu’il change de place, ma chérie?” (Adrien is exploring again. Should I tell him to change places, my darling?) Jaehyun cautiously asked, not wanting his 3 year old son to impair your perspective.

“Non,” (No,) You held on to his hand, kissing it sweetly. Although you peeved any unnecessary details found in your scenery in the past, Adrien was an exception. As his mother, it’s hard to say no to him unless necessary.

“Il est un garçon curieux, alors il devrait explorer et flâner où il veut.” (He’s a curious boy, so he should explore and wander wherever he wants.)

Life ever since you returned to the countryside shifted into something more precious than you imagined. From moving places constantly, you found a home to settle in for good. A home with overflowing love and inspiration. A home within Jeong Jaehyun.

Recently, you halted your work-related activities in Paris and came home because you were heavily homesick. It even affected your health as a whole. So you made adjustments with your schedules, postponing appearances to events to next year.

On the plus side, you could be more active as a mother to Adrien. It felt like you burdened Jaehyun to take care of Adrien most of the time because he mainly worked from home, wherein important people who wanted to meet him would have to fly out to the countryside.

Back and forth to Paris, your presence towards Adrien often lacked. Here came your biggest fear, which was Adrien forgetting you. But Jaehyun told you over and over again that it wasn’t the case. As he listened to every wrenching thought you had, but he’d combat it with heartfelt words of reassurance so you wouldn’t overanalyze things.

He vowed to love and take care of you when times get hard, and he will continue doing so.

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

It gave more room to grow and breathe more life into it. When Adrien was born, he was the prime reflection of your and Jaehyun’s love. He mirrored his father’s physical traits but with a daring personality like yours. A perfect mixture, the world worked amazingly to bring a boy like him into your life.

“Maman! Papa!” Adrien bolted to where you and Jaehyun stood. From the clothes he wore, it’s very much clear that his father was in charge of it whilst you slept in the entire morning. Suspenders, capri shorts, a white shirt, and a red beret, he deserved his title as Jaehyun’s mini-me.

Jaehyun swelled with pride and love for his only son, peeking over what he brought to show and tell you both. “Oh Adrien, what do you have for us today?”

In his basket, there were 3 sunflowers stuck out from the edge. It’s been a while since you’ve seen some in full bloom, lowering your stance to get a more vivid view. He took them out to hand them to you and your husband.

One flower for Jaehyun and two for you. You let out a gasp, scrunching your brows to the center. He always gave one of each item to you and Jaehyun, never more or less.

“Ooh, deux fleurs pour Maman. Pourquoi, Rien?” (Ooh, two flowers for Mama. Why, Rien?) Jaehyun let his nickname out for his lips while you grasped his small hand.

“Well, I heard from Olivier next door that on his birthday, he gave extra flowers to his mother so he could have another sibling. And it worked!” He spoke so innocently, yet it hitched a choke from Jaehyun’s chest. Your eyes widened from disbelief. The information he collected due to his curiosity, no boundaries truly.

“Le mois prochain, c’est mon anniversaire. Je me demandais si je peux avoir un frère ou sœur comme Olivier? Tu es toujours occupée, comme Papa. Je ne veux plus être seul, alors je veux une amie aussi.” (It’s my birthday next month, and I was wondering if I can have a sibling like Olivier? You are always busy, like Papa. I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I want a friend too.)

You exchanged looks with Jaehyun, not knowing how exactly to respond. Although you and Jaehyun did agree that you wanted more than one child when you were younger, neither of you brought it up again since your careers were always loaded with plans.

Adrien was a surprise child actually, conceived on the night where you and Jaehyun celebrated after L’Été de 1957 was announced to be the best-selling romance novel of the decade in the country.

In Paris at his family home, where his parents brought out all their prized liquor, the two of you drank the entire night away to the point Krystal and Donghyun had to push you away from each other from your public affections because their children were present.

But it didn’t stop you two once you reached his bedroom, far away from everything and everyone. And you’ll never change it.

“Oh, Rien,” You eased in, consoling him. “Je suis désolé. Mais c’est franchement une grande demande, n'est-ce pas?” (I am sorry. But that’s quite a big request, right?)

“Mom and I will think about it first, okay? Another kid is a big responsibility, and you’ll be their older brother. That’s another important job, can you do it well?”

“Yes, I can, Papa!” He beamed with glee, his covered head patted by his father after. As you placed the sunflowers beside your palette, Adrien then proceeded to ask you if he could paint with you like old times.

Never you refuse especially with his sparkling round eyes and chubby face that makes you want to squish every time.

As you lifted his light body to sit on your lap, you placed your brush between his stubby fingers and carefully aimed in whatever angle seemed fit so the painting process would run smoothly and perfectly. He let out sounds of amazement when the strokes get bigger, jumping slightly too because the picture became more vivid. You’d smile and coo at him, commending whenever he followed instructions well. As his mother, you only encouraged your child in whatever they want to excel in.

Adrien was the child of two artists, so it was only natural that he had an artistic side in his veins.

Too caught up in your fun, hearing the automatic shutter of the camera from your side was delayed. The source was none other than Jaehyun hiding behind his camera. Jaehyun’s heart soared at the heavenly view of the most important people in his life, wanting to treasure the moment as a lovely memory.

“Hey!” You shouted, placing down the messy brush by the palette. “Je suis très laid!” (I am very ugly!)

“Shh! Tu est rayonnant, ma chérie. Papa est juste, Rien?” (Shh! You are glowing, my darling. Papa is right, Rien?)

Jaehyun politely quizzed the peppy boy, nodding excitedly. His dimples deeply showed up, the main trait he claimed from his father.

“Oui, papa! Maman est toujours belle!” (Yes, papa! Mama is always beautiful!)

He exclaimed, pecking your cheek numerously. You squealed, attacking him with tickles and kisses back. His shouts of delight, then he was suddenly carried by your tall husband in the air like he was flying in the sky. Adrien enjoyed that motion highly, ending up on Jaehyun’s shoulders shortly after to play by the garden again.

“Go paint. I’ll take care of him now.” Jaehyun persuaded, roaming through the long rows of flowers in full bloom. Though seconds after adding some strokes to your piece, you let down your hair, put a hat and sandals on, and ran to the cute duo to join them.

And that’s how your family spent the entire afternoon. By the garden, running around and taking photos and short videos from Jaehyun’s camera. Freezing these valuable memories, this was truly the life you loved so much.

After your break, you could convince the company you worked at that you’d prefer fewer trips to Paris and stay in the countryside longer. How badly you’ve wanted to hold your exhibits here instead. Plus like Jaehyun, let influential people visit you. You’ve already made a big name for yourself now, so that should be valid enough.

Dinner time passed by quickly too, eventually putting Adrien to a smooth slumber as you massaged the roots of his soft hair while Jaehyun sang him a lullaby. This was your joint parenting technique with him since he was a newborn, and it worked quickly as lightning.

You redressed into your silk nightgown after bringing your canvas to the master bedroom, opening the balcony doors to invite the cool breeze in. You tweaked some bits of your painting, including a silhouette of your small family. Regarding where to place it, probably by the living room as it matched the theme.

“What a spectacular day, don’t you think, ma chérie?” Jaehyun conversed, admiring the calm movements of your brush. He noticed a quirky smile grace your lips.

“It’s been a long time since we had quality time like that with Rien. He’s a feisty ball of energy these days.” You replied with a nostalgic daze. “It’s so crazy how one day, he was still crawling to us. Now, he could outrun the both of us.”

“Comme le temps passe vite, hmm?” (How time flies fast, hmm?) Nodding, nothing braced for what your husband had in mind. You almost dropped your brush mid-way. Jaehyun’s lips impatiently devoured your neck, his huge hands fondling your breasts. Violently throwing your head back against his chest, a needy moan parted your lips.

“Jae-” His touches reaching south to where you desired him highly, dampening hastily as your legs naturally spread apart. Rushed exhales, “À quoi tu penses maintenant?” (What are you thinking about right now?)

“Rien se sent seul,” (Rien feels alone,) His hot breath whispered against your ear, his fingers dangerously trailing your thin panties up and down. With your hands tightly clutching on his bicep,

“Alors, donnons-lui une amie.” (We should give him a friend.)

Ever since Adrien mentioned such a daring topic, it hasn’t left Jaehyun’s mind the whole day. After seeing you in utter bliss with your son earlier, he found you so majestic and radiant. It’s a different kind of happiness, especially for parents.

Now you went on hiatus, he thought that it was the right time to have another. He enjoyed his younger years with Krystal, and he wanted Adrien to experience it too. 3 years was quite a wait, and it seemed ideal to try again.

From his nude chest, you flipped around to intensely clash his lips with yours. Draping your arms behind his neck, Jaehyun lifted your entire figure from the chair. His hands gripping on your butt, he delicately lowered you down your bed.

Drowning into his sensual kisses with his hands all over you, this could prolong for hours. Reddening love marks started to resurface whilst your fingers tugged on the drawstring of his pajama pants. Jaehyun’s fingers dove under the fabric of your panties, his index finger rubbing figure 8s the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You struggled to swallow your moans, not wanting Rien to hear it. You wouldn’t want to repeat history, covering it as Jaehyun massaging you after a hard day.

“I know you want one too, ma chérie.” His fingers began to drape down the straps of your gown, presenting your breasts in its full, perky view. But before his lips could suck on your erect nipples, you parted momentarily from him and got up on your feet. Pulling up your straps again, Jaehyun simply laid down but he wasn’t pleased from how you left him hanging.

“Où vas-tu, ma chérie?” (Where are you going, sweetheart?)

He was growing impatient. You were never to interrupt such a sexy atmosphere ever.

From one of your drawers in your vanity table, an important, half-opened envelope was hidden. You were supposed to give it tomorrow but now seemed like a perfect time. Reading it as soon one of the maids handed it to you gave you the jitters, but in a positive way. Sitting back down on the edge of your bed, you exhilaratingly passed it to your husband.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” (What is this?)

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

Jaehyun slowly opened the edges and once he took out the contents. Reading it thoroughly, he couldn’t believe it as his jaw dropped, pacing from the letter and you back and forth.

“Vraiment, ma chérie?” (Really, my darling?)

It was from a doctor you visited in Paris a few days before you left, who confirmed just exactly what caused your health to go feeble suddenly. You already had one certain suspicion, which you addressed in your leave of absence letter. Amelié, who finally got the position as the head, couldn’t believe her ears and insisted you take all the time off you needed.

“On dirait que Adrien a reçu son cadeau d'anniversaire en avance.” (It looks like Adrien received his birthday gift early.)

Overall, it turned out the headaches and repeated vomiting you mistook as motion sickness from traveling was a surprise hello to your second child.

A girl specifically, thanks to the blood test she recommended.

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

“Montre moi combien tu m’aimes, Jaehyun.” (Show me how much you love me, Jaehyun.)

The whole night through, the two of you vigorously celebrated with the moonlight from the windows and a few scented candles set in the room. Wet kisses left on your collarbone, words of devotion exchanged, holding his hand as he groaned from heartily thrusting in you, the number of moans from your lips overlapped with the vinyl playing in the room. The intimacy between you two increased, almost as if you made love for the first time again all those years ago.

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

Once the two of you grew tired, Jaehyun lied down beside you. Wrapping one arm around, one hand trailed down your naked skin again. His wedding band flashed your eyes, reminding you of the commitment you promised each other. For better, and for worse.

Jaehyun promised to love you endlessly as a woman and his wife, and it didn’t cease when you became the mother of his children. He respected how strong you are, physically and mentally. He helped you in any way he could as you endured the struggling process.

At the end of the day, his family was his biggest priority. More than ever now, you needed him as you go through the pregnancy phases again. Specifically, his index finger lingered on your stomach. There was no bump or other signs of showing, except for that glow he complimented you earlier on.

“We met and fell in love over the summer, got married in summer, had Adrien mid-summer, and now found out about our daughter at the start of summer.” He smiled, blessed at all the good he’s received during this time.

“The summer gods must adore us.” Your vacant hand with your wedding band topped his. To love and to cherish. “Ils m'ont amené à toi.” (They brought me to you.)

His power on you was simply addicting, as if your early twenties revisited you. You straddled himself once again, your fingers caressing his face sweetly. When it reached his lips, he placed longing kisses there and pulled you closer again for another kiss on your lips. In between, you mumbled in a silvery tone,

“Then they led us to say I do. Pour toujours et à jamais.”

copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.

[sil-and-seals-blog-something]

Billy’s getting hit with good confusion. He might not understand what happened, but apparently new dad doesn’t either and all three new family members are quite welcoming. Danny going absolute big brother role on Billy is wonderful. Giving him the privacy he needs but also teaching him important things that he can use. Billy gets invited to participate in one of Gramp’s game nights and learns about some ancient games he can use to solidify the JL’s views on his age as Captain Marvel. He also gets some bonding time with Pariah that way. Dan probably would show his care best by teaching Billy things like mechanics or self-defense (and battle tactics like sound oddly like they’ve been used on a grander scale) as well as the scruffing (that lead to just getting held for extended periods of time).

I imagine the there are photos online of Dan scruffing both Danny and Billy (who have those “kid caught with hand in the cookie jar” expressions on) and various other type of things. Billy and Danny laughing at his despair is wonderful. He’s so genuinely confused and Danny now knows why people find his own obliviousness hilarious, it’s great from an outsider’s perspective.

The elderly and young mingling to share the joys of historically valuable games is amazing. They’re all just happy enough with how things are going to do the smart thing and not poking at the metaphorical sleeping bear. I imagine that Pariah is consistently introduced as the one who taught them the games so Pariah’s always having to be like “Ah, my youth was a little on the wild side. Had to learn a bunch of these games for something or the other.” Conspiracy theorists are trying to figure out what old time villain he was and keep hitting roadblocks.

I love that the three simply vacationing somewhere is already doing good. Supernaturals all around are trying to figure out what happened to make such powerful beings, especially Pariah Dark, decide to just relax on Earth. It’s still standing after so long and they haven’t left, so there was to invasion. But the Infinite Realms lot are being stingier with knowledge than usual (they’re so relieved that Pariah is actually going along with the ghost boy’s reformation thing and they’re not gonna be the one to ruin it).

The bets are getting more ridiculous as time goes on, with more specific bets occasionally thrown in. The rest of the JL are loosing sleep over trying to figure out what it means.

After reforming Dan, Danny gets it into his head that he can reform Pariah Dark too. He takes a break from his kingly duties to go down to Earth. Both as a way to teach Pariah the wonders of humanity and to make sure Dan has actually changed his ways.