#because you know she sees the world like a romantic. her world is art and emotion and devotion. to her family. to anything she cares about

[snakes-of-the-undercity]

Vi is gifted kid burnout but in the english major way

[softquietsteadylove]

I just spent the last 5 hours painting and it gave me an idea. Canon movie universe, Thena using art as therapy (like we see in the film), and some cute romantic fluff

Gilgamesh snorted as he woke from his nap. He'd been perfecting his ale recipe, adapting it from the brew he had developed with Odin. Between that, and a lunch of roast ostrich leftover from Thena's last hunt, he had fallen right asleep.

He could tell she was there, but he blinked up at the ceiling. She was always telling him not to doze on the couch. He turned his head.

"Back."

He smiled reflexively, hearing the siren song of his darling Thena's voice. He moved just his eyes, but instead of seeing her in his chair, all he saw was an easel and the back of a canvas. "Can I-"

"Still."

He sighed, although he was nothing if not amused. She usually took her art therapy outside, drew with charcoal on paper weighted down by stones. When she did paint, she still preferred to set up under that old and dried tree that was hers.

He called it her tree from the moment he saw it, pale and stately against the rest of the desert.

Thena would lean every once in a while, just to check on her reference before disappearing again. He could hear the sounds of the stool under her, the swish of her dress as she moved. Her legs were crossed and he could see her bare toes bent against the rug.

Seeing Thena at feeling at home always put his heart at ease.

It seemed simple, but they had come a long way from bare stone and clay slip and a piece of driftwood as a door. They could eat together at the table, nap together in the hammock; he'd built them a water tower with his bare hands so they could have a running tap.

He would have built her a mansion if she'd asked. A temple to rival that of Babylon.

"Stop smiling."

"Wouldn't it be nicer if I was smiling?" he chuckled, letting his eyes remain closed.

"Unnatural."

He did his best not to, but smiling came naturally to him where Thena was involved. He loved that she had found an outlet for her mind in art. And he loved that she didn't need to over-explain herself to him. One or two words were all she needed, and he treasured even those.

"You were dreaming."

He tried to recall it. In the moment he woke up, he knew he had, but it was already beyond him what had been happening. Must have been pleasant enough that he felt good waking up, but not so pleasant that he wanted to go back to sleep.

He adjusted his head on the couch's throw pillow, despite the artist's strict instruction. "Aren't you supposed to angle it, or something?"

She leaned just to frown at him for moving.

"So you can see me and the canvas without having to lean?"

"Hm," she remarked, in her own way. She looked at her work in progress in question, and then at him again. "Then it wouldn't look right."

"Yeah?" he asked with a smile, going back to his previous position of facing the ceiling. He inhaled deeply. He would be in this position for a while; maybe going back to sleep wouldn't be so bad.

"I want exactly this image," the Warrior Eternal clarified with sudden firmness. "Forever."

There were plenty of images of her he wanted forever. But he wasn't the artist. He had tried here and there, but everything he did always just ended up making her laugh. And he didn't mind; if anything, he liked her laugh more than he liked whatever he had drawn or painted or sculpted. But he just wasn't meant to be the creative one.

He had managed to embroider his apron! Well, after she had drawn the little flowers on with her fingers covered in paint remnants. That was an effort of his to preserve something forever.

He heard her put her brush down. She truly was moved if she had gone to the trouble of bringing the easel and her brushes and all her jars and everything inside with her. "Done?"

"For now."

He opened his eyes again, "can I move?"

"Fine."

He grinned, turning and reaching a hand out for her. He made a grabby hand, flexing his fingers to ask her to come over to him. "Hey."

His Thena emerged from behind the canvas. She dusted the skirt of her dress off. She had gotten better, too; in the beginning she would occasionally emerge covered in charcoal or chalky dust or sometimes even paint. But now, she was as spotless as always.

"Hey," Thena purred as she laid down on the sofa with him, tucking herself into his side. She nestled her head under his chin, happily melting into him after all her hard work. "You look at peace."

"I am," he assured her, relishing in the feeling of just being near her. Their breathing fell into the same rhythm, like two trees swaying in the same wind. Thena was the artist but he thought he could be decently poetic, at times.

"And me."

He smiled against her forehead, pressing his lips there. Sometimes moments like these would make him think of the days when they would be fighting. Dodging and throwing punches and weapons. He would throw her up in the air at the enemies and catch her before she could fall.

Now they liked to cuddle on the couch in the afternoons before he started dinner.

He blinked as Thena nudged his jaw. "Your thoughts are loud."

He chuckled, which bounced her against his chest. "Sorry, just thinking this is nice."

"Hm?" she prompted him, still needing no more than a syllable.

"This," he summarized poorly. "Being at home, no Deviants, no mission. Just my wife and a couch and the sun."

Thena pulled herself to be able to look at him. There was no white in her eyes, at least not now. They were green and sparkling, as always. "Forever."

He smiled. It was hard not to take that word lightly, given the nature of their very existence. The word 'eternity' borderline meant nothing to them.

But days out here were different. Each was faced with a new set of eyes and he was grateful for every single one of them. Even the days when his Thena was far, far away from him. Even when she turned around and started swinging a spear to fight against nothing, railing about the destruction of the world and how they were all going to burn.

Forever had a different definition than it did before. He had no thoughts of missions, or Arishem, or far away galaxies. He didn't even think of Olympia. He had better things to think about, like the herb garden, and eggs, and expanding the clay oven outside the house so maybe he could bake two pies at once.

He could think of things like fixing the drip the kitchen tap had, and making sure to sweep the floor so his barefooted Goddess of War wouldn't step on any errant rocks. There was garden tending and roof checking and homemaking to be done.

"Gilgamesh."

"Huh?" he blinked. He must have been closer to sleep than he had thought, finding himself on the other end of one of Thena's more inquisitive looks.

"Sleep," she whispered, her hands touching his cheeks the way rain lovingly ran down a flower stem. "If you're so close to it."

He chuckled again; he liked it when she teased him. "Okay, okay, I'm up. You know what you want for dinner?"

Then pursed her lips in thought as he brought her hand up to kiss her palm. She smelled like paint, and summer air. "Is the ostrich gone?"

He nodded, continuing his mission to kiss more of her. He made it to her shoulder and finally past the collar of her dress before she came up with anything.

"Stew?" she asked, as if he would ever - in a million years - say no. Her hands toyed with his shirt as well. "It goes so well with pie."

He grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek. "Is this your way of asking for pie for dessert?"

She just stared at him. "Were you not thinking of expanding the oven for just that purpose?"

She knew him a little too well. But she was right, because of course she was. And he was happy to oblige her wishes. "I guess I could whip something up. What kind?"

"Any."

One word, and it was so heavy, soaked through with love and devotion. He kissed her.

And she kissed him back. Her hand found his cheek again and her eyes took on a new light. "Strawberry?"

He should have known; she did mean any, but if it was going to be any, why not her favourite? He inhaled, preparing to rise from their little nest of luxury. "Will you go and pick some?"

Of course she would. That was how things worked for them, now. There were no Deviants, no missions. There was a garden, and she would go out with a little basket and pick the berries they were growing in what shade they could provide. And she would bring them in to him, and then sit and watch him cook.

Gil didn't know what was romantic for humans, but he was pretty sure this would be considered the height of it.

Thena also inhaled, revealing her reluctance to move as well. But she left him with one last kiss before rolling off the couch. "Of course."

He followed, although he took a peek at her work in progress. It really was a perfect angle, looking exactly like what was in front of the canvas. He was sleeping. And whatever made her want to paint that so badly, it looked pretty accurate to him. He was no thing of beauty like she was, but if she wanted to paint him, then so be it.

"Dinner, Gilgamesh."

He laughed. "Coming, dear."

[iceunhie]

— phaethetically in love !

premise. belle thinks her brother is the most oblivious person in sixth street. the reason? one: because his (super obvious) crush on you is practically the worst kept secret in new eridu, and two: because he can't even see that said crush is reciprocated! good thing he has one (1) amazing, wonderful, nosy sister to help him out, yeah?

or, belle thinks the two of you are a prime example of an s tier romance movie; and she really wants to skip to the final arc already.

pairing. wise x gn!reader.

warnings: kinda ooc wise (i just started the game), wise is a loser (lovingly), belle is an instigator (proudly), comedy, facepalm moments.

a/n: for @vxnuslogy and @milksnake-tea bc yes wise kissers yes

MY (rlly cool btw 🥺) MASTERLIST || INBOX !

“you're in love with [name], aren't you?”

like all siblings in the world—or what's left of it, belle schemes.

(against wise, of course. obviously.)

her brother bursts into a mess immediately, nearly spilling his cup ramen all over his new shirt, chopsticks sticking out. laughing nervously. general chop would not be proud. “who told you that? i mean— haha, who said that, belle?”

his sister rolls her eyes. “me, myself. i.” she emphasizes, leaning her elbows against the table and putting her palms together; the grin she wears right now is so serene, but not in the angelic, nice way. belle smiles and wise finally thinks, oh. my sister may need to book herself to the closest self-help guru in new eridu.

“i have reason to believe that you, my dearest brother, are in love with [name].”

her voice goes up an octave at the last bit, leading wise to stuff her mouth with potato chips. already, heads have turned. “mff.”

“keep your voice down! and stop broadcasting it to everyone here-”

“what, i am right, aren't i? they clearly like you back, so why haven't you confessed yet?”

“keep. your. voice. down.” wise says, and belle's shit eating grin only widens as she sees her brother's ears tinged with pink. “and... how did you even know that?” he asks, mortified.

“well, one: because it's obvious—like, have you seen how obvious you are?” belle huffs, taking a bite of the potato chip with force (personal grudges are involved). “and two, because they like you back, dummy!”

because when belle sees the two of you together, it's like wise focuses on no one else. you are the center of his world—and he is just being pulled to bask in your light. his eyes soften like they melt only for you, and wise looks like all he is is, all he wants to be, is to belong with you.

(and, wise likes to stare at you for ungodly amounts of time. belle even caught him staring when you were petting a cat by the street and decided to name the stray ‘wise’; courtesy of him, apparently. the cat literally just had grey fur.

“wise.”

“hm?”

“you're practically spawning heart eyes now.”)

it's sickening. (in a oh my god my brother is in love kind of way, mind you.)

“so!” belle says, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. “allow your dearest sister to help you out, 'kay?”

wise nearly coughs up blood.

“what?!”

so at present, belle compiles her (hastily written) list of romantic moments you and wise have shared. she's not surprised—the number can be counted on one hand. diabolical, disappointing, world-ending! she resists the urge to cough up blood.

first, a coff cafe date with tin man's help: a fail. tin man's wingman capabilities were very superb, but she never heard the end of it when wise was lecturing her about how tin man kept sending over heart shaped desserts and little fortune cookies. the fortune cookies in question which said ‘you can do it!’ and a latte with art of caricature tin man making a heart. (you were very confused). belle thought it was motivating. wise thought it was mortifying.

next, even instilling help from fairy to calculate statistics about what event would you two be likely to be together. fairy said, and belle quotes: “probably never. that kind of pining's for the long run, with the other master's current experience. give it a year or six, master.”

so, she's currently face-palming.

did her brother really have zero game? why were the two of you just dancing around each other?! she's tried everything—from letting you two spend more time with each other in commissions, her inviting you over more to leave you to chat with her brother, and even the entirety of sixth street has lent their aid! how were you two not dating yet?!

“didn't they go on an arcade date at random play yesterday?” belle mutters. “that should've increased your progress by a long mile, bro! even general chop said you two were really, really close in the noodle shop....”

just what was she going to do now? at this rate, her brother would be relationshipless in no time! in fairy's words again, it would be phaethetic. and that would be a phaethal blow on her pride.

“...master, i said no such thing.”

“well, now you did.”

“The Ethereal Reckoning,” there's a pep in your step, the boxes full of movie DVDs in your arms as you walk back to the movie store. it was heavy, but at least you got to walk with the grey-haired proxy beside you. “That movie was great! Thanks for recommending it to me.”

Sporting a dopey, lovesick grin in response, wise nods at that, content to listen to your voice. it was actually belle's idea to let you lend movies you like over so the two of you could talk about it back and forth. wise would need to (begrudgingly) treat her to a bowl of ramen later on.... she saved him—he probably wouldn't even be talking to you for this long at this point, let alone hang out with you without her. for someone so nosy, he guesses his sister was a pretty good wingwoman.

“the main character was pretty similar to billy, you know?” you ramble on as wise listens. “i mean, because they were an android too, and...”

he finds that he's content to listen to anything you say, really. (right now he doesn't really know what you're saying, something about a horror ethereal movie, but you could just tell him anything and he would listen).

“i feel like the heroine's death was unnecessary, though.” you sigh, “too much tension just for it to end like that? how anticlimactic.”

your voice was so nice, so warm and easy to listen to, and wise can't even say anything to retort, simply staring with a growing (lovesick) smile on his face. talking to people was hard work, and talking to you? it might just make him combust.

“...ise? wise?”

“ah, huh?” he snaps out of his trance, only to find you mere inches away from his face, the only thing keeping you apart the boxes full of movies he's carrying. “...!”

“are you listening?” you furrow, and someone really might be out to get him right now because in that moment, wise flinches from the proximity, bumping into you.

then, because the universe thinks his life couldn't get more dramatic than it already was—you stagger, about to fall forward.

he moves before he thinks. “watch out!”

and wise.... practically astral-projects to another plane when he feels you fall into his arms, his hands on your waist. he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, the flustered look on your face. (he feels like he's going to die).

the two of you lock eyes for a moment, and wise feels like he's about to so something very stupid and his hands are still on your waist—

“....”

“.....”

someone save him.

“ah...”

“sorry!” you recover first, hurriedly letting yourself pull away from him (much to his disappointment). “i wasn't looking, and i- are you okay, wise?”

“no, no, it's fine.... i-i'm fine....” he hopes his voice isn't as small as it is, he couldn't be smooth to save his life; and wise helps you gather your bearings, his hands brushing against yours, blood rushing to his ears. sheepishly rubbing at his nape. “sorry, i was distracted.”

perhaps in the mood to lift the atmosphere, you sputter out, “no worries! it's fine! besides, you listened to me all this time.... i really enjoyed the movie, really.”

“of course i'll listen.” and before wise can think to stop his traitor of a mouth, the words spill out of his lips like it always wanted to be.

“you're worth paying attention to.”

it's automatic—your face heats up, warming like the sun on a hot day in new eridu, and god, he is such an idiot-

“you think so?” wise gulps. you looked bashful, and were way too adorable right now, and his face felt like it was on fire.... wait, that's not the point! he has to answer you, at least. this is a chance to make progress!

“y-yeah. definitely. i enjoyed... watching the movie with you.” he says. did his voice just crack just now? “we can hang out more often too, even without belle.”

he feels bad for throwing his sister under the bus like that, but—wait, did he just ask you out on a date? (accidentally)

well, it didn't matter because wise feels like he won the lottery right now, because you brighten up immediately. “really?”

then you cough and compose yourself. “i mean, sure! i'm sure it'll be fun, haha...”

awkward silence ensues. uh oh, did he say something wrong? was he too forward? he wants to say something, but something is lodged in his throat, and wise can't bring up a response. (his heart was beating like crazy right now, though).

“uh...”

“....”

then, something soft brushes against the side of his cheek. as fast as it was felt, wise felt the sensation leave just as easily. did you just-?

you just kissed him. on the cheek.

“thanks for hanging out with me, wise.”

“you're welcome- wha- huh?!” he nearly drops the stack of dvd's he was holding. you pull away, an enigmatic smile on your face. face flushed.

before he can even respond, the two of you finally arrive at the movie store. damn it, gods of the world. why did his luck run out now?

“i guess this is your stop.” he blinks, your voice coming back to him. “and, wise?”

“ah, uh, yeah?”

“it's a date, then?” your eyes sparkle and shine a light through his heart. super effective!

is this really happening? is he really going on a date with you—oh, he's so thrilled he could actually burst into song and kick his feet, but belle would tease him ruthlessly after. nosy sisters were so much work....

“yes!” he almost yells it out, but because he didn't want to look uncool in front of you, wise composes himself. play it cool, play it cool. don't mess up this chance! “yes, definitely. it's... it's a date.”

you put down the other stack of dvd's down the table, flashing him a dizzying, lovely smile smile. wise swears he falls even harder for you.

“then it's a date.”

BONUS.

“seriously?! you're going on a date with them?!” belle shouts, so unceremoniously that wise slaps a hand on her mouth.

“not so loud! but, yeah.” he says, face heating up. “your plan worked, sis.”

“yes! yes! finally!” his sister practically cheers, “i can finally be free of your sickening heart eyes... and finally, our street's most anticipated couple is here!”

wise can't help but sigh in fond exasperation. he guesses he'll let her have this one today.

“also, belle?”

“what?”

“you didn't tell anyone about this, did you?”

...

“uhh....”

(on the day of the date, wise receives an abnormal amount of good luck posters. he also gets a disturbing amount of thumbs up from the neighbors.

the last straw? tin man, giving him a baked cake with the words ‘rooting for you!’ covered in pink heart sprinkles.

he facepalms. belle...!)

a/n: d d do you guys get it..... phaethetically...... phaethon..... wise is phaethon and he's awkward in love lol hahahahaha (💀)

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[ghost-bison]

people who say ninerose is strictly platonic aren't realizing that they just have a hypocritical problem with age gap. i'm saying hypocritical because those people generally have no problem acknowledging tenrose as romantic just because david tennant's forehead isn't wrinkled. but they're forgetting that the doctor is still over 900 years old and even if he wasn't, tennant was still just a few years younger than eccleston. so if you have a problem with one, you should have a problem with the other.

and i'm saying this as a ninerose shipper cause if you think rose was too young and it's weird for them to be in a relationship? ok, fine. we all have our triggers. i personally have a problem with edward/bella (twilight) and stefan/elena/damon (the vampire diaries), because the age difference is fetishized, not really written as something as problematic as it should be, and also, elena and bella are teenagers.

and ok, rose might not be donna's age, but from 17 to 19 a lot happens in your head, especially for rose who already has a job and who takes care of her mum. bella and elena are both financially stable enough that they don't have to "grow up" faster and worry about if they can make ends meet. they're still in school.

and, moreover, the doctor doesn't make it weird. he doesn't obsess over her sexually, doesn't groom her, and is aware of the age difference.

but it's also not like he has a choice: his entire species was decimated, and even when the time lords were still here, they were pretentious, elitist puritans and the doctor was basically the autism specimen who was always more curious and open-minded than the rest of his peers. he always liked human beings in a totally healthy way (I'm talking about humanity as a species, not individually, cause i know he had some weird toxic friendships but it's not about that).

he likes humanity for how fleeting our lives are. we are ephemeral and it gives purpose to our life and the doctor loves how it acts on the way we live it.

he hates soldiers cause they go against what he thinks is our nature (a need to create and witness art, a need for the other) in favour of capitalism, stupid political conflicts. soldiering treats life as less important than those stupid and, in the end, useless concepts, and the doctor loves choosing and interacting in general with people who understand that. people whose curiosity exceeds their love of comfort and fame. like rose.

he didn't choose rose because she was pretty, or young, or because he fetishized her and was weirdly obsessed with her. which is not to say their relationship was without fault, cause it was (there's a reason rose got stuck in that parallel world in the first place and sorry to tell you this, but the reason is mainly the carelessness of tenrose), but it wasn't toxic in its essence.

so yeah, you're allowed not to ship ninerose, it's ok, but don't call it platonic or weird cause it's not (tenrose was actually way more toxic).

for starters, no one looks at their friends or, as people like to call them, "parental figure" the way she looked at him. then, people kept acknowledging their relationship as romantic (calling nine rose's boyfriend and calling rose nine's girlfriend). rose showed jealousy when women displayed romantic/sexual interest in nine (jabe, lynda etc...). they literally shared a kiss on the lips. even jackie ended up accepting the nature of this relationship, and she was very protective of rose. and to finish up, rose herself called their first adventure their first date: "our first date. we had chips".

so yeah anyway. they're in love. deal with it. if you don't have a positive opinion on them there's something very simple you can do about it: to keep it to yourself or if you really can't help it, you can also learn to tag it correctly so i and other ninerose shippers don't have to see it :)

thank you

[luna-azzurra]

Romantic Writing Prompts (++Drama++)

She has two choices... the boy who makes her feel like art, or the man who can give her the world on a silver platter. Both love her. Both will ruin her in different ways. And she has to decide if she wants passion or security, because she cannot have both.

She thought she had found the love of her life on a dreamy vacation. The kind of love that makes you believe in fate. The kind of love that makes your bones hum. And then she comes home, walks into her best friend’s apartment, and sees him, wearing a ring, wrapping his arms around the person who’s been in her life longer than he has.

She’s built her career from nothing. Nothing. And now she’s finally on the verge of making it, rising in the world of high fashion, with a mentor who believes in her more than anyone ever has. But then she finds out the truth about him. And it’s not just bad. It’s the kind of truth that could end everything.

She has a plan. Stay in her tiny hometown. Marry the boy she’s known forever. Live a simple, happy life. But then the new guy moves in, brooding, devastatingly handsome, and everything she’s not supposed to want. Suddenly, her plan feels like a cage. And her childhood sweetheart can see it happening.

She knows he’s a mistake. She knows he’s all sharp edges and empty promises and that he kisses her like he’s daring her to regret it later. And still, she goes back to him. Again and again. Until she either saves him or loses herself completely.

She has a good boyfriend. A stable one. The kind of love that makes sense. Then, she meets him. The kind of love that is a disaster waiting to happen, that keeps her awake at night, that makes her question everything she thought she wanted. And suddenly, safe doesn’t feel so safe anymore.

She’s fine. She swears she is. It’s been years since she lost him. She moved on. She has a job, a life, someone else warming her bed. And then, she sees him again. Older. Wiser. Looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that ever made sense. And suddenly, every lie she’s told herself comes crashing down.

Here’s the Show, Don’t Tell freebie book and my newsletter.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 10: The One About the Audibly Loud Lukola FanFic

I’ll address the elephant in the room. And, no, I’m not talking about Jake Dunn’s brown suit! Or, that he’s posing with a man. Or, that Tyler commented “Bellissimo!!!!” on Jake's post.

I don’t think a lot of people understood the connection I was making this morning about “Mis-Directed,” Gwilym Lee, and Jake.  So, now I feel the need to explain because I don’t want people running with a narrative that goes in the opposite direction of where I was taking it.

Sorry, JVN, you’re getting pushed to the side again. I promise, I’ll get to you one day.

Let’s go back two months…

On September 25, Nicola posted to her Instagram stories a link to Alex Babsky’s post, which was a picture of Nicola. She had her hair and make-up done but she was wearing one of her own dresses (the black dress she wore in Australia and Brazil). Babsky captioned his post “[pink bow] @nicolacoughlan in London today for…well, never mind what for actually [laughing emoji with hand over mouth] [winking emoji] [shushing emoji].” Nicola responded, “You’re amazing it was so gorgeous to see you xxx.”

Babksy’s caption sent the fandom into hysteria wondering what the hell Nicola was up to. It didn’t help that this was the same day Luke updated his Instagram bio and used “Xx” and it didn’t help that Nicola was wearing the black dress she allegedly wore on her beach walk in Brazil with Luke.

Do you want to know what I thought the photo of Nicola was from? I’m not going to lie – I thought it was pre-wedding makeup. Seriously, not kidding. It reminded me of my own wedding day. Formal hair and makeup and my own dress that was easy to take off without messing up the hair and makeup. I never said I wasn’t a little bit delulu.

On November 5, an author named Lucy Parker announced on her Instagram feed that she had a new Audible book called “Mis-Directed” being released in February 2025. The post came with pictures of Nicola wearing the black dress and the same hair and makeup as the September 25 post. Nicola (presumably) is reading the part of Hattie Murton, and Gwilym Lee (presumably) is reading the part of Anthony Rafe.

Oh, okay.

Turns out, I was wrong.

So, Nicola and Luke didn’t get married.

Fine.

I have always liked crows.

But, wait a minute – what the fuck is this Audible book about? A woman who stars in a romantic drama called “Leicester Square” (what the fuck?) which was adapted from a best-selling romance novel (what the fuck??). Then, in comes our antagonist, Anthony Rafe, who plays opposite of Hattie and, let me quote here, “But when very real chemistry sparks during their scripted love scenes, Hattie begins to think the industry’s legendarily heartless Bad Guy [Anthony] might just a have a pulse after all. And Anthony, for his part, is caught off-guard by the way his heart races when he’s around his aggravating onscreen lover. As reality starts to imitate art a little too close for comfort, the world’s most unlikely couple might just have more in common than they thought…” (what the fuck???).

Let’s start with Leicester Square. What the hell is Leicester Square? Oh, the name of the fake television show on which Hattie and Anthony star. Sure, Jan. Is it odd to anyone else that Leicester Square is the name of the location of where the London premiere of Bridgerton Season 3 took place? You know, the event that happened hours before Papsmear.

Then we have the make-believe show being adapted from a best-selling romance novel. Mmm hmm.

Let’s try and not make the connection between Luke and Anthony. Mmm hmm.

And, let’s add fuel to the fire and have two co-stars falling in love with each other.

Yeah, we get it. It’s a Lukola FanFic being read by none other than Nicola. I mean, the only way it could be any better is if Luke was reading the part of Anthony Rafe! But, no, that part is being read by Gwilym Lee (who is fantastic in everything he does, by the way).

Who is Gwilym Lee? Well, he’s an actor (my father calls him “Midsomer”). Ask Mr. Google about him. But, if you check out his Instagram feed, you will find that he knows Jake and has since, at least, 2022. Is it possible that Nicola met Gwilym through Jake? Yeah, it is.

Now, why do I find this situation intriguing? Specifically, why did I find the post from Jake this morning posing with Gwilym interesting (and a bit shady)? Let me explain.

The Jakholes took the “Mis-Directed” FanFic as shade towards the Lukolas. Yes, they went there because that FanFic does not (in the least) fit nicely into their Jakola narrative. I mean, if it wasn’t shade to the Lukolas, how weird the storyline must have been for Jake! The writing was audibly on the wall, in big red letters, but the Jakholes chose to spin it into something messier than my hair in the morning after sleeping on it wet.

What exactly is this theory? Well, per the Jakholes, Nicola hates the Lukola fandom so much that she sat and read (likely, for hours) this Lukola-coded FanFic just to spite us! I mean, Anthony is a bad boy in this story and “everyone loves to hate” him (don’t forget, Luke became the devil incarnate after Papsmear). And, Hattie is tired of the “brutal press, overly invested fans, and a cutthroat industry…[that] would give even Pollyanna an edge of cynicism.” The Jakholes believe this means Nicola is saying she’s really in love with Jake and she wants us all to know that by reading a Harlequin-style romance about a woman who falls in love with her costar! Oh, my God!! How could she?!

What in the actual fuck are the Jakholes drinking with this bullshit? I know, I know. I shouldn’t expect anything better from people who ship Jake with Nicola. In fact, if I was a Jakhole, I might buy into this conspiracy theory. But, I’m not a fucking Jakhole. And, guess what Jakholes? I don’t mind breaking the hearts of Lukolas by saying we’re probably never going to see sexy-hot Brazil pictures of Luke and Nicola, so I don’t mind telling Jakholes to put this theory back into Davy Jones’ locker and feed it to that bitch Kraken.

Let’s talk a bit further about the absurdity of this “Nicola is shading Lukola” subplot from Hell.

We will pretend Nicola hates Luke. She hates Lukola. She baits the Lukola fandom for shits and giggles.

What would this make Nicola?

It would make her a villain, for starters (and “villain” is me being extremely nice).

More importantly, it would make Nicola a PR nightmare.

Even if Nicola and Luke despised each other, do you believe Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land would allow Nicola to play games with the Lukola fandom? Talk about playing with fire!

The reality is the lines between Polin and Lukola are heavily blurred at this point. I hate to say it – and maybe a lot of you will view me as a complete asshole after I say this – but, if I learned Nicola was shading the Lukolas (therefore, in my opinion, trolling Luke), I would not be interested in Bridgerton Season 4. Or, Season 5. Or, any season after that. Or, in Nicola, for that matter. You’re welcome to have your own opinion about this but I would feel incredibly betrayed, and not just by Nicola. On top of that, for me, Polin has become Lukola. They’re so blurred, they don’t even resemble a line anymore. Maybe that’s a bad position to be in, but that’s where I’m at. Sorry, not sorry.

I’m not going to rehash the breadcrumbs left by Nicola that support Lukola – if you know, you know (or you can catch up by spending an afternoon on Tumblr). Even Luke, in his own way, leaves Lukola-coded crumbs. We also have damn convincing evidence that Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land support Lukola. I mean, even they’re blurring the lines with “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” and interestingly timed images of Polin. So, do you think they’re going to let Nicola fuck with that on a public forum?

That would be a cold, hard NO.

But, this Audible book – “Mis-Directed” – is loud and made louder because Nicola is reading it.

So, what is this Audible book? Shade? Or, Nicola being cutesy? I’m going to place my bets on the latter solely because, like I said, the Corporate Office is not going to let Nicola shade Lukola because it has a direct effect on Polin.

That’s not to say that the excitement of this Lukola-coded “Mis-Directed” FanFic wasn’t attacked by the Jakholes from all sides, and the wind – for the moment – was kicked out of it. That’s a different story for a different day.

But, what I found so intriguing about Jake’s post today is that, of all the people he could have included in his photo (because there’s obviously lots of people at this event), he chose Gwilym. And, this means people will look into Gwilym. People will realize that Gwilym is the other side of “Mis-Directed.” People will realize Jake and Gwilym are friends. People will realize that Jake’s friend is reading a Lukola-themed romance novel with Nicola.

And, if we agree that the book is not shade towards the Lukolas and we agree that Jakola is not real, what is the significance of the connection between Jake and Gwilym? Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But, the connection – at least in my mind (and it’s been there since November 5) – is that Jake supports “Mis-Directed” because he supports Lukola and he has always been there, helping Nicola lay the breadcrumbs. He wanted people to look into Gwilym and make the connection. Jake could very well be the one who suggested Gwilym read the part of Anthony. Jake is the degree of separation.

I want to close this out by noting that Jake also liked the post Nicola has pinned on her Instagram grid – the black and white one about her Time 100 article. You know, the one where Nicola says, “A lot of people really want me to marry Luke.” Follow the links and it will take you to this article. That’s an interestingly placed like by Jake, in my opinion – as is his photo op with Gwilym.

[astraystayyh]

Starry night.

in which you and hyune fall in love through paintings.

idol!hyunjin x museum guide!reader. love at first sight, kinda. both mc and hyune are romantics.. lots of art analysis and conversations. very fluffy and soft. like so soft i hurt myself with this you guys.

all the info about Vincent Van Gogh’s life and works are from the Van Gogh Museum. the interpretations are my own but im not an art critic, obvi, just a yearner 💔 please enjoy, feedback is highly appreciated 💞

thank you to the lovely reader who commissioned me!!!! the money went to our stayblr fundraiser for palestine. please consider donating if you are able too as well <3333

“You’ll be able to do it, right?” Your manager Martin looks at you expectantly, and you blink slowly in response. It, referring to leading a private tour of the Van Gogh exhibition.

You’ve been a museum guide in New York for four months now. When you’re not painting, you’re here, amidst the array of artworks nestled in a quaint street near East River. You’ve led group tours before, always under the watchful eye of Martin, a middle-aged man who never forgets to bring you a vanilla bourbon macaron every morning.

However, you’ve never handled a private tour before. You see the desperation in Martin’s eyes as he awaits your answer—he’s the one who usually handles these tours, but he has urgent family matters to suddenly attend to.

You blink again, your tongue unknotting in a split second. “I’d be happy to,” you beam. The exhibition feels like a second home to you; you’ve visited it countless times long before you started working here.

Martin heaves a sigh of relief, smiling back at you. “I believe in you,” he reassures, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Remember why I chose you.”

You grin at his words, nodding vigorously. Your love for art brought you here; your very being seems molded to breathe in paintings and live among them. It’s as sweet a life as it can get.

“You’ll find all the details about our guest in our log. He’s famous, so he’ll be a bit discreet. He’ll expect you to be too,” he explains, hurriedly packing his things. You nod, taking the keys to the art gallery from his hand.

“Don’t worry, the gallery is safe in my hands.”

“I know,” he says with a comforting smile, before finally waving goodbye. You take a deep breath and check the booking for tonight’s exhibition—Hwang Hyunjin.

The name is unfamiliar to you, and so is the face that greets you at 8 p.m. sharp—at least, what you can see of it. He’s wearing a navy cap and a face mask, with a varsity jacket sitting perfectly atop his broad shoulders. He looks young, roughly your age.

“Hi, welcome to our Van Gogh exhibition,” you greet him with a grin. He bows slightly in response.

“No one’s here, so you can remove your mask if you wish. I can take your bag as well,” you offer with a smile. He nods and hands you his black duffel bag, which you quickly pass to the security guard, who places it inside a safe cabinet.

Hyunjin removes his Versace cap, running a hand through his silky black hair. There is an aura of assurance around him, as if he’s poised before a camera in a professional photoshoot. But then, a shy smile appears on his face as he finally removes his face mask, his eyes glinting beneath the golden lighting.

You feel your breath catch in your throat; for a split second, the world around you seems to still, the paintings dimming before the beautiful face in front of you.

“Right,” you clear your throat, “shall we?”

Hyunjin nods, falling easily into step with you. You pause before the first painting, ‘Woman with a Child on her Lap’, 1883.

“This is rumored to be about Sien Hoornik, who became both Vincent’s lover and model. She was a former prostitute, pregnant at the time, and had a five-year-old daughter. Vincent was determined to help her through her hardships, and they dated for a year and a half. But then, he broke it off because he said she was too far gone to be saved.”

Hyunjin nods, his eyes fixated on the painting, his head tilted slightly to the side. “The eyes are telling,” he speaks for the first time, and his voice floods your being like dewdrops reviving flowers at dawn. It is smooth and soft, the end of his words getting lost in the air and caught by your heart.

“The way the mother and daughter look at each other, I mean.” He clarifies, stealing a fleeting glance at you. “There is disdain on the mother’s face, but more toward herself, I think. Maybe because she sees her reflection in her daughter.”

Groups usually scurry past this painting, eager to see Vincent’s more renowned works. You feel your heart soften at how much he seems to be thinking about it, lost in his own world. You’re not even sure he remembers you’re there.

“Vincent was really determined to help her, although his brother Theo disapproved. His parents did too.”

“Isn’t that what love is? To hold someone’s hand even if everyone tells you to let go,” he mutters quietly, his eyes still lost in the painting. A hue of vulnerability colors his words before he clears his throat, as if unwittingly revealing his inner thoughts.

“That’s a beautiful way to view it,” you smile, and he nods, shyly biting his lower lip. For some odd reason, his timidity stirs something unfamiliarly tender within your heart.

You walk over to the next set of paintings. “When Vincent moved to Paris, you can see how his style developed. He let go of the darker tones he used in his infamous ‘The Potato Eaters’ and began using lighter colors, like here,” you explain, pointing to ‘The Hill of Montmartre with Stone Quarry’.

“Do you think it’s because he was happier?” he suddenly asks, and you frown slightly. “Pardon?”

“The shift to lighter colors. ‘The Potato Eaters’ is so sorrowful and shrouded in darkness. ‘The Hill’ is much more colorful, lighter, you know?” His eyes glide to yours, a twinkle of curiosity glimmering in them.

“Vincent did flourish in Paris. For once, he was in the same city as his brother Theo, whom he loved dearly. But he was mainly influenced by modern art, which uses much lighter colors than his previous works. Art critics usually attribute this change in the influence of his contemporaries, such as—”

“But what do you think?” he interrupts softly, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are penetrating, and you find yourself lost in the seas of emotion they contain.

You quiet down, licking your lips tentatively. No one has ever asked for your opinion on these tours before.

“Well,” you begin slowly, “I think it’s possible. Being around his brother and other artists who embraced brighter palettes could have uplifted his spirit. But also, maybe the light colors were his way of reaching for happiness, even if he didn’t always feel it. Art often mirrors our hopes as much as our realities.”

Hyunjin listens intently, a thoughtful look on his face. “I agree,” he finally says, smiling sincerely. You don’t know why the sight of his grin renders your brain putty, like melted ice cream under the kind sunrays.

“His use of lighter colors continued when he moved to the south of France. He was delighted with the bright colors in Arles, painting orchards in blossom and workers gathering the harvest,” you explain, pointing to the respective paintings.

“That’s when he told his brother that he wanted to open a studio for fellow painters. He wrote in a letter the following: 'you always lose when you’re isolated.' He sent out many invitations, but only one painter agreed to come.”

“Paul Gauguin,” Hyunjin swiftly replies.

“Exactly. He was the first and last painter to move in with Vincent.”

“It seemed like the more he tried to escape loneliness, the more it found him,” Hyunjin muses, his eyes fixed on ‘Portrait of Gauguin’ by Vincent. The bright colors he asked you about earlier make you wonder if, beneath the spotlight, Hyunjin too feels lonely.

“Sometimes loneliness becomes a friend. You have to make room for it to allow other things to come in,” you say softly.

“It’s sad how nothing good came out of that roommate situation, though” he frowns, and you nod in agreement.

“Paul and Vincent were very different. They had a lot of eclectic views that often led to disagreements. I assume you know their most prominent one.”

“Yes, when Vincent cut off his ear.”

“Correct, he then wrapped it in newspaper and presented it to a prostitute in the nearby red-light district.”

“A prostitute…” Hyunjin muses, his thumb swiping slightly across his lower lip. “It seems like phantoms of his first love found him again. Even in his most disoriented state, he somehow remembered her.”

“You speak of love beautifully,” you suddenly say, before biting your tongue harshly, instantly regretting your words. But Hyunjin’s eyes seem to soften as he gazes at you, the warm light dancing across his pupils.

“It is a beautiful feeling.”

“Only to those who have beautiful souls,” you speak earnestly, and your words seem to morph into brushstrokes, painting the gallery in hues of red. Intimate, soft, too intimate all of the sudden.

“Vincent’s mental health rapidly declined, and he put himself back into the mental asylum,” you quickly clear your throat, though you can still feel Hyunjin’s eyes on you, not the painting. “Still, that’s when he created some of his most famous artworks, like ‘The Starry Night’. He was inspired by the view from the asylum’s window. It’s dominated by vivid yellow and blue, and the colors and paint seem to describe a world outside the artwork itself.”

“It’s breathtaking,” Hyunjin marvels, lost in the painting, leaning in until his nose almost brushes the canvas.

You suppress a giggle, but your laughter fades as you take in the mole right by his jaw, then the one by his neck. The delicateness of his face, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his lashes.

He’s beautiful. The painting could seep him in and he’d fit right in with the silver stars. Outshining them too, surely.

“I really liked the tour,” he smiles, nearly two hours of lazy strolls later. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you grin back, grabbing his outstretched hand. His fingers wrap around yours slowly, deliberately, as if on a mission to ignite your nerve endings. To set your soul ablaze with his palm alone.

His hand holds yours for a few seconds longer than necessary. Your blush mirrors his when he finally lets go.

He quickly bows again, grabbing his bag from his manager, who was waiting by the door. He almost bumps into the handle on his way out, and you let out an endeared chuckle, your eyes lingering on his figure until he disappears into his black van.

You think you'll never see him again, two lines crossing serendipitously at one point, never to cross paths once more. The thought sends a pang of sorrow latching onto your heart, before you quickly brush it away.

But then you do see him again, the very following night, at that.

It is near nine p.m. when Martin exclaims suddenly, “Mr. Hwang!” and you freeze in your place, book guide in hand.

It has been exactly twenty-four hours since you last saw Hyunjin, but when his voice softly echoes through the art gallery, it feels like a lifelong ache finally soothed.

“Please, call me Hyunjin,” he says, shaking Martin’s hand, though his eyes quickly find yours. They stay on you, unmoving yet tender, like a cotton blanket draped over your being.

“How was the tour with Miss Yn?”

“Ah—“ his gaze finally drifts away from yours. “Yes, it was really nice. That's why I came again,” he explains, a touch sheepishly, and your quizzical eyes meet Martin’s.

“Hyunjin booked another private tour. He specifically requested you to be his guide,” Martin explains, and your eyes widen in shock. You don’t have time to reply because your manager quickly scurries away. “I’ll leave you two then. Have fun!”

You wait until Martin disappears into his office before turning to Hyunjin, who avoids your gaze, one hand deep in his pocket, moving side to side. You remain silent for a few moments, simply admiring the side of his face. You’ve always had a deep appreciation for art running through your veins, after all.

“Hi,” he finally says, his eyes quickly meeting yours. You can’t stop the smile that floods your face, coating every nook and cranny of your features.

“You came back,” you say with a breathy giggle.

“Mm,” he instantly grins. “I don’t know when I’ll be back in New York, so I wanted to truly memorize the art here.”

“When are you going home?” you ask as you take his bag again, your eyes taking in his outfit—a green cap this time, a knit vest over a white shirt, and a silver teddy bear necklace nestled perfectly against it. Pretty.

“Tomorrow. We had a tour stop here, and we’ll go back to Seoul now.”

“And you’ll be spending your final night in the city here?” you chuckle slightly, and he shrugs as if it’s the most obvious decision he ever had to make.

“Why not? I think it’s beautiful here.” though his eyes never move to look onto the paintings, gliding across your face instead.

“And I forgot to take pictures yesterday,” he quickly adds, pointing to the camera in his hands.

“I’ll help you then,” you offer, and he smiles so brightly that it renders you speechless, suddenly wondering if the first person who ever drew a portrait had a similar thought—that they saw a smile so beautiful they just needed to immortalize it.

Hyunjin is at ease before the camera. You can tell by the way he almost pretends the device isn’t there, his eyes fixed on the paintings, mere centimeters away from the canvas. He’s whisked away into another world. You see your love for art mirrored in his soul as well.

“Do you paint, by any chance?” you ask between pictures, and he nods.

“Whenever I have free time. And you?”

“I do. I can show you later, if you’d like.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, pointing his finger at you, before looking directly into the camera this time. “I’ve been painting magnolias lately.”

“Really? Why magnolias specifically?”

“I read a poem about them. It said that when magnolias wither, they aren’t considered beautiful anymore. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t at one point. It really moved me.”

“You have to be very optimistic to view it that way,” you say as you finally hand him the camera, satisfied with your pictures. You are both standing in front of ‘Almond Blossom,’ the pastel colors drawing you in.

“Withering flowers mean that at one point they were in full bloom. Grief means that at one point you did love,” you muse. “It takes a lot of gentleness to find beauty in endings, to celebrate them as proof of what once was. Don’t you think so?”

You turn to look at him when the flash of a camera catches you off guard.

Hyunjin looks at your picture, a soft smile on his face. “You fit right in with the flowers,” he compliments, though it does not feel superfluous or bearing a hidden intent. It’s a simple observation he wished to share.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, a blush sprouting from your very veins. You quickly fix your posture, pointing to the painting. “I told you yesterday that Vincent painted this for his brother Theo, to celebrate his newborn, whom he named after Vincent.”

“Yes, I remember,” he nods, slinging the camera over his neck and taking a picture of the painting up close. “It seemed to bring Vincent a lot of solace in his final days.”

“I’ve been thinking about your question, whether Vincent was happy. I think he was hopeful more than anything. He had hoped his works would be recognized, he had hoped he wouldn’t be as lonely anymore. Sometimes hope keeps you going much more than happiness.”

“Because happiness will eventually wear off?”

“Right, it’s only natural. But hope… it’s like a flame that never goes out. It might flicker and dim, but it will still be there on your darkest nights.” You bite your lip slightly, your thumb digging into your palm.

“I hope you’ll always have hope in your life, Hyunjin. You’ve been my favorite person to talk about Vincent with,” you say sincerely, your eyes unwavering from his.

You imprint the way his gaze softens into your mind, the slight blush that powders his cheeks, the way his teeth peek behind his smile. You memorize his velvety voice in your mind, the way he accentuates certain letters and how it pulls at the strings of your heart when he says—“I’m very happy I met you, Yn.”

May is gone, and with it Hyunjin, and you think you are a fool for thinking of him as often as you do after only five hours in his presence. You don’t know why your mind is permeated with his essence. But why wouldn’t it be? is the better question. When he’s beautiful, truly, body and soul.

You feel slightly less foolish when a postcard is delivered to your exhibition on a sunny Saturday, one month later. It depicts the front entrance of the Museum of Modern Art in Seoul.

June 13.

“yn,

i saw Vincent’s works once again in this month’s exhibition. somehow they seem less beautiful without our conversations.

i hope you’re surrounded by art, too.

hyunjin.”

June 23.

“hyunjin,

i visited claude monet’s immersive exhibition, you have to visit it as well, once you’re back in new york.

i am still surrounded by art, as always. i don’t think i could ever part from it.

did you finish your magnolias? i hope you’re seeing beauty in them even after they wither.

yn.”

July 5.

“yn,

claude’s works are so different from vincent’s... don’t you think it's beautiful that they lived at the same time yet depicted their world so differently?

my magnolias are finished. i’ve been drawing scenes from your exhibition lately, the picture i took of you is particularly inspiring. i hope you don’t mind.

hyunjin.”

september 26.

“hyunjin,

leaves are falling all over new york. new beginnings are upon us. i hope this view of my window inspires you too.

i wish you happiness no matter the season.

yn.”

october 7.

“yn,

i just saw the first snow at dawn, it was such a pretty view! i’m happy i’m alive today.

i hope snow reaches you fast enough, too.

stay warm.

with love,

hyunjin.”

october 23.

“hyunjin,

i’ve always preferred spring, but snow brought me such a happy opportunity. i’m invited to an exhibition in seoul, next month!

i’ll enjoy it well and think of our conversations.

with love,

yn.”

october 5.

“yn,

the weather is beautiful in seoul lately. i’m happy you’ll be here to see it.

it is late at night, and the moon is shining brightly. i hope it’ll shine as brightly for you too, in new york.

with love,

yours.”

The click of your black heels against the marble floors echoes through the museum, a comforting sound as you stroll through the immersive Vincent exhibition; now gracing Seoul. The colors wash over you, reflecting off your skin, swirling around you until you feel as though you’re being drawn into the very heart of the paintings.

“Enjoying the art, Yn?” a voice like honey drips across your being. Your heart skips a beat, plummets to your knees and races back to its place once again. You feel an ache inside you unfold. memories of Hyunjin’s voice rewriting themselves, perfecting your recollection of his accent and the tender way in which he spoke your name.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, though you refuse to turn around and meet his eyes. Not yet. The scent of his rose perfume is enough to have your heart rattling against your ribcage— a bird wishing to escape its cage and deliver your love letter to its rightful owner.

“Isn’t it an amazing coincidence we met here? In Seoul, no less,” he says, his voice airy as he inches closer.

“I know you’re the one who invited me,” you giggle, finally turning to meet his gaze. His eyes widen slightly before morphing into crescents, as if lifted from Vincent’s Starry Night.

“How did you know? I thought I kept it a secret in our postcards,” he grins sheepishly.

“I kept pestering Mr. Martin about why the museum invited me specifically until he finally told me you were behind it.”

“Well,” he licks his lips, his eyes roaming over your face. “I admit, I missed you. I wanted to see you again. And I happen to be a major contributor to the museum.”

“Fancy,” you beam, before your grin morphs to something much softer, as you realize that you are away from your work, and that the Hyunjin of your postcards is finally before you.

“I missed you too. Show me around?”

“Am I your guide now?”

“Mm. I expect you to be an expert.”

“Oh, I am.”

Hyunjin speaks of the paintings as if it’s his first time seeing them, finding new things to admire, new details to point out to you. You find it hard to keep up, only because your eyes seem more interested in observing him. You’ll tell him later that you were right in thinking he’d make every painting more mesmerizing.

But for now, you stroll together, his hand brushing against yours every now and then. Before long, you’re far from the museum, walking into the chilly Seoul night, his jacket draped over your shoulders.

And you talk, you talk about every painting you’ve seen since his departure, the flowers you’ve picked, and the strawberry field you visited at the end of June. He shares stories of his favorite painters and his beloved dog, Kkami, whom he misses dearly. He speaks of the moon and how your postcards lessened his loneliness. You tell him you’ve kept every card by your bedside, the first and last thing you see each day.

Suddenly your pinky is entwined with his, your cheeks ache from how much you’ve spoken and laughed, your heart lighter than it had ever been.

“Thank you for walking me to my hotel,” you smile softly.

He nods, his thumb swiping across your palm tenderly. It’s only after a while that he speaks again. “I know you said that happiness wears off eventually. But right now, the happiness i feel… I think it will last me for the next four months, at least.”

“Just four months?” you tease, and he giggles, tipping his head back. You wish you had your paintbrushes, your camera, a simple pen, anything to commit his laugh into something tangible.

“For a long time,” he finally says, quietly, resigned. Tomorrow’s flight ticket makes your heart ache, all of the sudden.

“I… I’ll get going. Thank you for inviting me,” you smile, dropping his hand. You know it’ll hurt the more you hold it, the easier it’d be for you to remember the softness of his hand.

So you walk back, you’re near the hotel door, a hand suddenly wraps around your wrist, the security guards both discreetly look away.

“Yn,” Hyunjin turns you around, his eyes are as wide as the full moon hanging close to earth, listening in to your conversation.

“You didn’t- you didn’t show me your paintings.” he says a bit too quickly, desperately.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“Back in New York, you promised to show me your paintings. You didn’t.”

“You remember?”

Hyunjin's chest heaves in response, his warm palms cradle your cheeks, his eyes speak of a yearning you haven’t thought existed. When his lips crash upon yours, fervently, passionately, like the collision of all stars in Starry Night, you have your answer.

He remembered. He remembered as much as you.

Epilogue— seven months later.

“Now… next question,” Hyunjin grins as he takes out a folded paper from a glass jar, five sets of camera’s all pointed at him in the shooting set of Elle Korea.

“If you could feel only one emotion for the rest of your life, what would you choose?”

Hyunjin puts the paper down, adjusts the sleeves of his Versace blue silk shirt. He doesn’t need to think too much to answer— he already has his reply.

“Someone told me, a long time ago, that hope keeps you going longer than happiness. Because happiness wears off eventually. But hope doesn’t. hope is like a flickering flame, it surges and it dims, but it doesn’t go out, so I choose hope.” he smiles suddenly, eyes looking into those of the staff behind the camera.

“That got deep all of the sudden, right? Done worry, Stay, I have hope, happiness and love, all at once.”

He chuckles quietly, picking up the last piece of paper.

“Finally… who’s your favorite painter? Ah, easy, it’s Vincent Van Gogh.”

“What's your favorite painting by him?” the shooting director asks behind the camera, his eyes fixate on the lens. He knows his love will be watching.

“A woman with a child on her lap. It’s not very known, but… if you look into it closely, beautiful things might come into your life and change it forever.”

from left to right, Woman with a Child on her Lap, 1883 — Portrait of Gauguin, 1888— The Potato Eaters, 1885—The Hill of Montmartre with Stone Quarry, 1886— Almond Blossom, 1890— The Starry Night, 1889.

[artssslut2]

New Normal

Dilf!Art x Reader

Summary: A lazy morning with Art Donaldson.

You and Art became inseparable soon after you started dating, well as inseparable as you could be while Art was raising a five year old. You had met Lily for the first time a while ago and she loved you, she called you her best friend, it was the sweetest. Nowadays you and Lily would spend more and more time together.

However you never slept over when Lily was with Art. You didn’t want her to be confused or get too used to you being around all the time. Even though Art was sure you were it for him. He was a father first and a great one. Tashi had Lily most weekends - when she wasn��t out of town coaching, but this weekend she was home and had their daughter. Art always misses Lily so much, but it was nice to have some alone time with his girlfriend. You stayed over since Thursday, it was amazing. Art was so romantic and caring. It was like you were royalty anytime you were around him.

You rolled over in the morning still groggy from waking up, you saw your boyfriend laying next to you admiring you sweetly

“Hey sleepyhead” Art whispered tucking hair behind your ear. You smiled and kissed his hand as a response “think about how great it will be when you live here.” He hinted curling up next to you

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled with a raspy sleep voice “when’s that gonna happen?” Art looked at you lovingly and took a breath

“Soon, when I propose.” He winked, your heart started pounding and you felt 100% awake. You loved art and wanted a future together, you knew this talk would come but it caught you off guard in a good way.

“Yeah?” You asked with an enormous smile that made Art return the smile

“Yeah” he chuckled “if you’d want that” he followed joking around because he knew the answer. You nodded enthusiastically and he laughed then you laughed crawling up into his lap giggling like a kid

“I just… gotta talk with Lily and come up with a plan so that she feels good, I don’t want her to feel left out or anything.” He told you in his concerned dad mode. You loved seeing him as a father, watching him worry about his little girl made your heart melt

“You’re a really great dad, you know.” You smiled, he let out a soft exhale and smiled slightly, you felt butterflies in your stomach before asking him what’s on your mind “D-do you… want to be a dad again?” You asked shyly. You were young and still wanted more kids, surprisingly it’s something you hadn’t talked about. You couldn’t read his face and started to panic a little “maybe… later on like someday?” You continued nervously. Then a smile spread on his face and a tear formed in his eye

“Yeah. Yeah I would love that.” He said wiping a tear before it could fall.

“Baby are you okay?” You asked holding his face and he just continued smiling

“Of course I’m okay. I just never thought this would happen to me… I thought I was done with that stuff I felt kind of I don’t know unlovable. I’m thankful for Tashi but that marriage took everything out of me. But when I met you. Baby when I met you everything changed, I felt so alive again for the first time in so long. I love you so much y/n.” He said teary eyed. You hadn’t seen art this emotional. It made you tear up too, watching Art learn to love himself again was one of the greatest things to watch.

“Art you deserve the world. You the greatest partner and father and role model, I’m in awe of you everyday. I want to help give you the marriage and life you deserve.” You touched your forehead to his.

“I’m gonna give you everything.” He said kissing your forehead and then you passionately. Then he felt his phone go off. He wouldn’t normally pick it up when he was spending time with you but since it could be about his daughter he did. He looked at it with slight disappointment

“Tashi has to catch a flight she needs me to go pick Lily up.” He told you. He wasn’t upset, it’s not that he didn’t want to pick up Lily. Not that at all, he just hated seeing Tashi choose work over their daughter more and more. He never wanted Lily to feel how he felt.

“Oh, do you want me to head out ?” You asked understandingly

“No… come with me. Lily will be happy to see you.” He told you putting a shirt on. You wouldn’t go with him on drop offs or pickups you tried staying out of the day to day routine. “You sure?” You asked

“Absolutely. Gotta get used to the new normal.” He smirked buckling his belt. Your heart fluttered and you nodded.

You and Art got to Tashi’s about thirty minutes later, Art went up to the front door and didn’t even get half way there before Lily burst through the door and ran straight into his arms, it made you smile and think about what a good man he was. He put Lily in his hip and then met Tashi by the door. They talked for a minute and then Art gestured towards his car and Tashi gave a quick wave in your direction. Then the door shut and Lily and Art were on their way to the car.

“Y/N!!!” Lily greeted excitedly leaving from the backseat to give you a hug,

“Lily!” You returned and Art smiled

“Y/n are you coming home with us?” She asked with the same scrunched up smile her dad had

“Yes of course I am!” You matched her energy and she was ecstatic “we’re gonna stop at Starbucks first though right?” You asked leaning towards Art and he gave you a smile

“I guess so” he said playfully as you have Lily a wink and she laughed.

You couldn’t wait to officially be apart of their family, they were your world.

[kamotecue]

an unexpected encounter ۶ৎ l. freigang

summary: in which you found your soulmate, in an unexpected way. lohmann!reader

pairing: laura freigang x lohmann!reader

soulmates, can either be romantically or platonically. it was proven that seventy percent of the world were born with soulmates, either a platonic one or a romantic one. the thirty percent, or the latter wasn’t born with a soulmate tattoo, or it had disappeared as their soulmate had already departed from this world before they’ve ever got to meet them.

you’d be able to tell through the tattoo that was marked on your skin, mainly located at the wrist. whether it was designed with a heart, signifying a romantic one—or an arrow, for a platonic one. yet your soulmate tattoo had been linked with a heart, a small football tattoo signaling your soulmate’s tattoo.

it was something that caught sydney, your younger sister off guard, football was kind of her thing, while you were more interested in the fine arts, film and photography, painting and lastly music. which is why you’ve opened your own art exhibit, in bad honnef — germany. and not to mention, you’ve released popular albums with your band, the midnight rebels.

but the current train of thoughts you had, was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. it was sydney, your younger sister.

“hallo, liebe schwester? (hello, dear sister?)” you said, waiting for a reply.

“ich habe angerufen, um zu erfahren, ob sie noch verfügbar sind, um heutd abend am spiel teilzunehmen? (i called to see if you were still available to attend the game tonight?)” sydney’s voice rang from the other end, as you hummed. it was the quarter-final game, between frankfurt and bayern munich.

“natürlich würde ich es um nichts in der welt verpassen wollen. (of course, i wouldn’t miss it for the world)” you replied, just like how sydney always supported you on your hobbies, the art exhibit that her club & national teammates have visited — you had always supported her in football, always watching the matches online, when you weren’t able to be there in person, as you were busy with the tours.

“und vielleicht kannst du dann meine nationalen teamkollegen kennenlernen, die dich schon lange kennenlernen wollten. (and maybe then you can get to know my national teammates who have wanted to get to know you for a long time.)” her words had caught you off guard, why is that?

“hast du es ihnen erzählt? dass ich das geheime mitglied von... (did you tell them? that i’m the secret member of…)” sydney had interrupted as you let out a deep sigh.

“nein, ich habe ihnen nicht gesagt, dass du das maskierte mitglied der mitternachtsrebellen bist. (no, i didn’t tell them you’re the masked member of the midnight rebels.)” her reply was swift, as she continued, “she waren in deiner kunstausstellung, erinnerst du dich? mit der unterkunft, die sie hatten, haben sie den eigentümer nie getroffen. (they’ve been to your art exhibit, remember? with the accommodation they’ve received, they never met the owner.)”

ah, the art exhibit — it was something you’ve established after finishing university in the states, a full academic scholarship to ucla for your fine arts degree, majoring in photography & painting and drawing.

it just so happens that ucla is where you ended up meeting the rest of your bandmates, the midnight rebels. so, whenever the band (it started out as a university band, the contract signing happened after a video had blew up) had a performance, you’d show up in a mask.

it was because, you were never one for the spotlight. being the introvert that you are, striking up a conversation, must less singing on stage, was nerve-wrecking.

“ich hatte noch keine zeit dazu, sie wissen ja, wie mein manager ist. (i haven’t had time to do that yet, you know what my manager is like.)” every since that breaking record deal, the signing of your band — your manager has been up your arse about recording more songs, keeping up with this masked image (even though you were thankful for it).

“ja, ich weiß. aber ich fürchte, wir müssen das gespräch beenden, der trainer sagt, wir sollen uns jetzt konzentrieren. (yes, i know. but i’m afraid we have to end the conversation, the coach says we should concentrate now.)” sydney mumbled as you bid goodbye, — perhaps in a rush to get ready for tonight.

the match was a little bit packed, as you could ever imagine. afterall, it was a game between the two top teams of the league. you took a seat at the family and friends section, like you usually do whenever you attend a match. however, your gaze was quickly torn to your wrist, as you felt the hot, stinging sensation — your soulmate is nearby.

the game started with both teams showing their tactical discipline. bayern, the team your sister plays on, controlled possession, trying to break through frankfurt’s compact defensive setup. the opposing team, on the other hand, looked dangerous on the counter, using their speed on the flanks to stretch bayern’s backline.

it was then in the 79th minute, caro simon had accidentally put the ball into her own net, giving frankfurt a 1-0 lead, it was the moment you felt your heart drop. but bayern, however refused to back down, eager to score an equalizer, and little did they know, it came true. damnjanović scored a dramatic equalizer sending the game into extra time.

once the extra time had started, it was then bayern showed championship mentality, their energy levels running high. viggósdóttir did a header from a well delivered set piece. sooner, tanikawa weaved past the defenders before rifling in a stunning shot to make it 3-1. with frankfurt desperately trying to fight back, damnjanović struck again completing bayern’s statement, with a 4-1 victory.

the game ended with cheers from the home fans, as you softly clapped knowing how much this game meant to your sister. as the game ended, you went closer to the field, watching how the teams talked with their fans, rotating around the field — you however, ignored the sensation on your wrist.

“wie hat ihnen das spiel gefallen? (how did you like the game?)” your eyes followed the voice, only to see the colors of the opposing team.

“es war nervenaufreibend. (it was nerve-wrecking.)” you simply said, turning your eyes away from the jersey, to look at the person’s eyes — only for both of you to look at each other shocked, the stinging pain that you’ve gotten from the soulmate tattoo had stopped, and you knew what that meant.

“du bist es. (it’s you)”

“du bist es. (it’s you)”

you tore your eyes away, as sydney came — a tired yet joyful expression wore her face, her eyes had curiosity as she looked at you, and laura her national teammate.

“ich sehe, du hast meine schwester laura kennengelernt. (i see you’ve met my sister, laura.)” laura, who you’ve now learned the name of, her eyes widened at your sister’s words.

“die besitzerin der kunstaustellung? (the owner of the art exhibition?)” she had said, as you responded.

“ja, genau. (yes, exactly.)” you said, looking between the two teammates, as sydney furrowed her eyebrows.

“nist du okay? du siehst aus, als hättest du einen geist gesehen. (are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.)” sydney said, as she looked at your face, a bit pale you were.

“ich glaube ich habe meine seelenverwandte gefunden. (i think i’ve met my soulmate.)” you mumbled underneath your breath, as laura’s eyes widened at the words — while, sydney looked so confused.

[estcaligo]

Sebek and Romance

Some thoughts after this event update

I really liked this small detail in this part of the event - a "bittersweet" (or "sweet and sour" literally, from Japanese) moment between Sally and Jack. When she leaves her basket for Jack (which Trey refers to as a "bento"), we get to see the NRC guys reacting to that display of affection.

Surprisingly, Sebek's reaction was very calm and mature.

When Grim says "Bittersweet? I wanna try eating it!"

Sebek comments "Haha. Grim, that's something even you can't devour" in a calm manner.

In many fanworks, especially fics, Sebek is often depicted as inexperienced or nervous when it comes to matters of love. I enjoy this interpretation too because it can be funny sometimes. But understanding and reacting to romantic interactions is a learned skill (like any social skill), and we should remember a few points:

Sebek has loving parents who have three children. Considering the history of their relationship, I imagine they aren't shy about showing how much they love each other, including in front of their kids. I'm sure Mama Zigvolt has, at least once, explained to Sebek that this is because Mama and Papa love each other very much. So, Sebek is familiar with these kinds of feelings from his family.

Books, books, books.

Books are a big part of Sebek's life - for hobbies, studies, and bonding (for example, with his grandfather or the Prefect). He reads a lot on various topics, and naturally, throughout his life, he must have come across books with romantic themes. We can learn a lot from books, including social skills, even if it's only in a descriptive sense. So, Sebek has also learned about romance through literature.

Arts and culture.

Sebek is familiar with operas and musicals, as mentioned in the Endless Halloween event. We can assume he has some interest in them or, at least, participates in watching them with his family nowadays too (because he mentioned Zigvolts spend quite a lot of time together, like attending parks, so why not.)

We don't know what kind of plays he watches, but we can assume there are at least some romantic motifs, as is often the case in classic operas and theater. Watching actors - who often exaggerate emotions - could give him an understanding of how romantic situations unfold, and this exposure can likely have an impact on him. 

He also does thorough research into the arts when required, and some romantic themes might come up. For instance, if he knows Aurora, he must be familiar with her story, including her love interest and the kiss plot (though TWST may have twisted these stories, I presume core elements like the love story remain intact). So, Sebek can learn about romance thought art.

Lilia's supervision.

Sebek spends a lot of time with Lilia as his pupil, along with Silver, so naturally, he absorbs a lot of information about the world from his teacher - not just combat skills. And, well, Lilia's wisdom might be mischievous, if not dubious at times. In Ghost Bride event, it's noted that one of Sebek's visions of courting his future partner involves…well

which is kind of cute, if you ask me.

So, coming back to this event's reaction:

Seeing the display of affection between a loving couple is nothing new for Sebek, and he understands it surprisingly well.

At least when it comes to other people...

[solxamber]

Hello! I saw that you said it was fine to request still, so if it's alright I'll give you my thoughts/promt if it's fine by you.

Also wanted to say i love you're fanfics! Super entertaining and well written so i was wondering if you could write one that's Vil x mermaid! Reader (romantic) the prompt is-

Vil has been slowly falling in love with the reader; not just by her beauty but her personality the two have these little meet ups where she sings/the two talk endlessly and just enjoy eachothers company, but what I'm getting with this,is that Vil would take time to process his feelings but eventually he gets there and confesses. Maybe it could be a friends x lovers?

whatever you want to do with this idea is cool beans, I just really want to see what you come up with!! Alright,that's all much love ♡♡

Vil Schoenheit x Mermaid! Reader

the idea is so big brained!!! I hope you like it <3

Vil has always appreciated beauty. He lives and breathes it—the art of refinement, the craft of elegance. But lately, beauty has taken on a new form for him, and it looks suspiciously like you. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but he knows it’s tied to those secret meetups you two share by the shoreline.

You’re a mermaid, and you make a point to remind him of that every time he mentions something about the "unbearable" human world. You always roll your eyes dramatically, your tail shimmering in the moonlight as you laugh at his over-the-top complaints about fashion disasters, inferior skincare routines, or the latest scandal in the entertainment industry.

"You humans are so fragile," you often tease, resting your chin on your hand as you float lazily in the water. "Honestly, Vil, it’s a wonder you haven’t all crumbled under the weight of your own drama."

He gives you a sharp look every time, but there’s always a trace of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And yet, here you are, meeting up with one of these fragile humans every week."

"I didn’t say you weren’t entertaining," you retort with a sly grin. "It’s like watching a soap opera, except with more skincare tips."

Vil chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which somehow manages to stay flawless even in the salty sea breeze. "You’d be lost without my advice. I’ve seen your seaweed face masks."

You pretend to gasp, putting a hand to your chest. "Seaweed is a perfectly valid skincare ingredient! In fact, it’s far superior to that toxic concoction you call moisturizer."

"Seaweed smells like the bottom of the ocean."

"And you don’t?"

That’s how it always goes—banter, teasing, comfortable silences filled with the soft crashing of waves, and eventually, music. You sing sometimes, when the mood strikes you. It’s never anything planned; it just happens. Vil always listens, captivated, because your voice is something he can't quite describe. It's raw, but pure, untouched by the expectations of the stage or the pressures of fame.

Sometimes he sings back, though he pretends he’s only doing it because you insist. "Come on, Vil. Just a few bars. You know you want to."

"I am a professional," he says, crossing his arms. "I don’t perform on a whim."

But you know how to coax him, and soon enough, he’s harmonizing with your lilting melody, his smooth, controlled voice intertwining with yours in a way that makes the night feel magical.

It’s been months of these little meetings, and Vil has never been quite sure what to make of you. You’re beautiful, of course—stunning, really—but that’s not what has him coming back to the shore every week.

It’s the way you make him feel completely at ease, the way you challenge him without being mean-spirited, the way you listen to him vent about things you couldn’t care less about yet still offer thoughtful responses.

And then there’s that laugh of yours—sharp, like the crack of a wave against the rocks, but warm enough to make him feel lighter every time he hears it.

He’s always valued control—over his image, his career, his emotions—but with you, he’s found himself slipping. He realizes, with some discomfort, that he’s been looking forward to these meetings a little too much. It’s not just the singing or the banter anymore. It’s... you.

That thought bothers him, because Vil Schoenheit does not get "distracted." He doesn’t fall for anyone. At least, not like this.

But here he is, walking down to the beach again, heart beating faster than usual as he anticipates seeing you. Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the moon is hanging lower than usual, casting everything in a silvery glow, or maybe it’s the fact that Vil can’t deny his feelings anymore.

You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, sitting on a rock with your tail swishing lazily in the water. "Late again, Mr. Superstar?" you call out teasingly.

"I’m fashionably late, thank you," Vil replies, though there’s a softness in his voice. He takes a seat on the sand, smoothing out his coat with practiced precision before looking at you.

"You’re slipping," you say, eyeing him critically. "Usually, you’d have a comeback ready. What’s the matter? One of your beauty products finally backfired?"

Vil snorts softly, shaking his head. "No, though if it did, you’d be the first to hear about it." He looks out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve just been... thinking."

"Uh-oh," you say, folding your arms over your chest. "That sounds dangerous. What about?"

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Vil has always been calculated, measured in everything he does. Confessing his feelings, though? That’s not something he’s prepared for. He glances at you, and suddenly, the words start spilling out before he can stop them.

"You know, for someone who claims not to care about humans, you certainly seem to enjoy spending time with me."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in tone. "Are you fishing for compliments, Vil? Because I don’t need to stroke your ego any more than it already is."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, it’s just... You’re always teasing me about humans, about my world, but you keep coming back. Why?"

You tilt your head, considering his question for a moment before replying. "Because you’re interesting, Vil. You’re not like the others I’ve met. Most humans get caught up in themselves, but you... you’ve got a spark. You’re genuine, even when you’re being all high-and-mighty. And, well, it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options for good conversation under the sea."

Vil’s heart skips a beat at your words, and he finds himself smiling despite the nerves building up inside him. "I see. So I’m just your entertainment, then?"

"Oh, definitely," you say, grinning. "But you’re also... more than that."

Vil blinks, his breath catching slightly. "More?"

You nod, your expression softening. "You’re someone I look forward to seeing. I like being around you, Vil. You make me feel... seen. And I’m not just talking about my looks. It’s like you actually care about me as a person, not just a pretty face."

He swallows, his chest tightening as he listens to your words. This is it. He can’t hold it in any longer. "I do care," he says quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "More than you know."

You look at him, your teasing expression fading as you sense the weight behind his words. "Vil...?"

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think... I think I’m falling for you."

There. He said it. And now his heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Vil Schoenheit is unsure of himself. He braces for your reaction, half expecting you to laugh it off or tease him like you always do.

But you don’t. Instead, you blink at him, your mouth opening and closing as you process his confession. "You... what?"

Vil clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I’m in love with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and I didn’t want to admit it, but... I can’t keep it to myself anymore."

There’s a moment of stunned silence before you break into a wide smile. "Vil, you absolute idiot."

He recoils slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months now! I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you."

Vil blinks, taken aback. "You... you knew?"

"I didn’t know know," you admit, "but I had a feeling. You’re not exactly subtle, Vil."

He stares at you, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding his system. "Why didn’t you say anything, then?"

"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out yourself," you say with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I didn’t think it’d take this long, though."

Vil narrows his eyes, though there’s no malice in his expression. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you love me," you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "What does that say about you?"

He huffs, though his heart is fluttering in his chest at your touch. "That I have terrible taste."

You laugh again, the sound bright and infectious, and before Vil can say anything else, you pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, and Vil feels like his entire world is melting away in that moment. The taste of saltwater lingers on your lips, and for the first time in a long time, Vil isn’t worried about appearances or perfection. He’s just... happy.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling like fools. "So," you say, your voice teasing, "does this mean we’re a thing now?"

Vil rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "I suppose it does."

"Good," you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I’m not letting you back out of this one, Mr. Superstar."

Vil chuckles against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. "Oh, trust me," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, "I have no intention of backing out. But I do expect you to stop wearing those dreadful seaweed masks."

You gasp dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eye. "Excuse you! Seaweed is nature’s skincare miracle, Vil. Just because it’s not wrapped in fancy packaging doesn’t mean it’s ineffective."

He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Perhaps, but you’ll have to let me introduce you to something a little more refined. If we’re going to be a couple, I simply can’t allow my significant other to use subpar beauty products."

"Oh, is that so?" you ask, amusement twinkling in your eyes. "I didn’t realize I was dating a beauty tyrant."

"It’s for your own good," he says with mock seriousness, though there’s a warmth behind his gaze that betrays his affection. "Think of it as part of your glow-up. You’ll thank me later."

You can’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. It’s strange, really—how quickly this has all come together, yet how natural it feels. You never would’ve guessed that your casual banter and late-night talks would lead to this, but now that it’s happening, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Vil reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but purposeful. "You know," he says softly, his usual sharp tone melting into something softer, "I’ve never met anyone quite like you."

You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. "I could say the same about you, Vil. You’re not as scary as people think, you know."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "That’s a well-maintained persona, I’ll have you know. Can’t let people think I’m soft."

"Oh, but you are," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "At least with me."

He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real bite behind it. "I’ll deny it if you tell anyone."

You laugh, resting your forehead against his as you savor the closeness between you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely at peace, as if everything has fallen into place. Vil, with all his elegance, wit, and sharpness, has somehow become the person you’ve come to care about more than you ever thought possible. And now, as he holds you close, you know that you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

"I’m glad it’s you," you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I never thought I’d fall for a perfectionist with an ego the size of the sun, but here we are."

He lets out a soft, genuine laugh, his arms wrapping around you more securely. "I never thought I’d fall for someone who argues with me over skincare, but I suppose life has a sense of humor."

"Looks like we’re both in for a wild ride, then," you say with a grin.

Vil hums in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. "As long as it’s with you, I think I can handle it."

You smile, feeling your heart soar at his words. There’s a certain magic to this moment—a kind of fairy tale that feels like it’s been written just for the two of you. And as you sit there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something truly beautiful.

"Well then," you say, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, "looks like you’re stuck with me, Schoenheit."

"Forever, I hope," he says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss—this one longer, deeper, filled with the promise of something lasting.

And in that moment, with the moon shining overhead and the waves lapping gently against the shore, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together..

Masterlist

[strnilolover]

painter!matt and a reader,they were going together at the art school and classes but Matt became really good and the only time he had an inspiration to draw and paint was when he was with the reader. it was usually just the drawings of her and little sketches. she was suprised when she saw the room full of her portraits but then she became his muse 🙏🏽🤍

matt always said art was his outlet, a way to make sense of the world—something that brought him peace. he became really good overtime, surpassing you yourself. But the truth? he hadn’t felt inspired like his in years—until you had came along and showed your interest in him.

he didn’t mean to draw you at first. it just happened. a sketch on the corner of his notebook after you laughed at one of his stupid jokes, the curve of your smile taking shape beneath the lead of his pencil. a painting on an old canvas he’d abandoned months ago, your eyes somehow finding their way into every brushstroke.

before he knew it, his room became a gallery of you. charcoal sketches pinned to his wall, watercolors of your silhouette propped against the windowsill, oil paintings of your hands, your profile, the way you looked when the sunlight hit your hair just right. You were everywhere.

you’d never been in his room before—not having any reason to be. not until the day you wandered in, looking for him because you really needed his help on this project of yours. and you froze.

your eyes scanning the walls, seeing all these paintings and sketches of—you. you were taken aback, lips parting as you took in every single one.

“oh…” the word slipped out softly, and matt, who had been organizing his paints, quickly spun around—a panicked expression painted across his face.

“wait—i can explain,” he stammered, moving to block your view, but it was too late. your eyes had already scanned the walls, wide and stunned.

“matt…” your voice was quiet, reverent, as you stepped closer, fingers brushing over a sketch of you reading on the couch. “these are all… me?” you had never seen portraits so beautiful—and so, you.

he swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. it felt as though his ribs might just break. “yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “i didn’t mean for it to be weird or anything. i just… i don’t know. you’re the only thing that makes me want to create.” he muttered, face reddening as he spoke.

you turned to him, eyes soft, cheeks flushed. “i’m your muse?” you ask quietly, your mind still wrapping around this new found fact. matt chuckled nervously, his gaze dropping to the floor. “i guess you are.”

for a moment, you didn’t say anything. then you smiled, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. “i think that might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

he looked up, startled, only to find you grinning at him. matt realized his muse wasn’t just his inspiration—it was his reason— the reason as to why he still paints. why he enjoys it so much—because you’re someone he cares about. and now, you finally knew.

a/n : au pairing creds to @lockettesstage (go check her out cause her bunny!reader and fox!chris are my roman empire)

[shootingstar3]

In a relationship with caitlyn kiramman (fluff. SFW)

fem!reader

Your guys' meeting was somewhat casual. she was awkward and shy at first but slowly let her hair loose around you, eventually asking you out in the most romantic expensive way you can imagine. Dinner at a fancy place, flowers, and at the end of the night took you into a calm quite area so she could tell you her feelings.

Physical touch and gift giving are her primary love language. She always makes sure to meet all your desires, needs, and wants regardless of how unrealistic they may seem she goes to the ends of the earth for you. Likes to kiss and touch you ear kisses and neck kisses are her favorites. gives you random gifts out of nowhere and spoils you rotten.

Always teases you. lets her witty and sarcastic side take over and often pokes fun at you in the cutest way possible

Takes the liberty to write you poems and express her love to you through the art of wring. often leaving notes to you and giving you hand written letters

Takes you to the shooting range with her to practice her skills and loads of times teaches you how to shoot a gun

Is very clingy. always tries to finish work so she can go back and see you clinging onto you the rest of the night

Whenever she gets the chance she always loves to hop in the shower with you and washing your hair.

Very calm and gentle with you sometimes babying you

Knows EXACTLY how you want to be treated and treats you accordingly even before you have to ask.

Often takes you out on luxurious dates shopping at your favorite places and buys you the most expensive accessories or whatever you like.

Very attentive and listens to whatever you have to say. if you say you like something you'll have it within the same hour

If she upsets you she gives you your space and tries to make it up to you after a few hours by buying you your favorite chocolates flowers and even tries hand making something for you, then spoiling you endless kisses and cuddles

At the beginning of your guys relationship she would sneak you into her room so her parents wouldn't take notice of you. you guys would giggle as you stumbled your way into her room

you would always introduce her to different artists and styles of music as she didn't really know a lot of things are her music taste is quite bland

After introducing her to new music you and her would dance around in her room to it in the most fun way possible it was terrible but great memories.

When she finally introduced you to her parents she was nervous of what they might think,, nonetheless she didn't care as she loved and would go to war for you. her mum wasn't very fond of you but her dad adored you simply because caitlyn loved you. soon after her mum and you got close and she ended up being fond of you for making her daughter happy.

After introducing you to her parents you got invited to many soirees filled to the brim with rich snobby people, which you hated. Caitlyn had to engage with all of them to keep the popularity of the kiramman family. As soon as she was done, you both would sneak off and get far away from everyone to have some alone time in order to make out, drink, make fun of all the rich asshats, and have lighthearted heartwarming conversation

Took you to many new places to explore outside of piltover and showing you all around the world.

Everytime she had a stressful day she'd cuddle up next to you to binge watch trash tv and have a good laugh.

Would always cook you your favorite meals and breakfast in bed

Has a really bad sweet tooth and would always take you to different shops to eat sweets and be together

Loved having deep conversations with you and found deep comfort in venting to you about her life has a kid and all the pressure she felt growing up

Gives you random compliments. simply adores and cherishes your mere existence.

Goes on mini rants to you to everyone and likes to show you off.

Randomly drops a long heartfelt statement about how much she loves you and how you make the happiest girl on planet earth.

thats it. thank you for reading!!! if you like this and wanna make a request you are more than free to ^^ have a good day lovelies <3

take this heart for an extra good day

/)/) ( . .) ( づ♡

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[goodbyeyellowbrickcloset]

Call It What You Want: The T Chain, Taylor’s Castle, and the Art of Hiding in Plain Sight

A necklace is just a necklace… unless you're Taylor Swift.

When Taylor stepped out at the Grammys, the internet zeroed in on her "T" initial leg chain, instantly taking it as a sweet, romantic nod to Travis Kelce. Then, seven days later, she wore it again—this time at the Super Bowl, the single most-watched event in the world. Same chain, different body placement, different setting, even more eyes on her.

For many, this was confirmation: The T is for Travis. Case closed. But for those who have followed Taylor’s patterns—her Easter eggs, her use of symbols, and her tendency to weave multiple truths into a single image—this was an invitation to look deeper.

And that’s exactly what I'm going to do.

Jewelry as Symbolism in Taylor’s Work

Taylor has consistently used jewelry as a storytelling device, embedding meaning into her accessories. A few of many examples: the locket in Begin Again, Paper Rings, and the evolution of friendship bracelets on the Eras Tour. In Taylor’s world, jewelry is rarely just decoration—it’s a symbol, a message, a clue. And now, with the "T" necklace, one song in particular stands out:

"I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck… Not because he owns me, but 'cause he really knows me." — Call It What You Want (2017)

This lyric, taken from Reputation, was written during Taylor’s most private, hidden relationship—one she spent years shielding from public view. A relationship that was misunderstood by outsiders. A relationship she had to protect.

Sound familiar?

At face value, Call It What You Want was widely assumed to be about Joe Alwyn. But does that assumption actually hold up? Because Joe wasn’t someone Taylor needed to hide—if anything, he was an active participant in maintaining her privacy. More than that, the song itself plays like a closeting anthem—someone deeply in love but forced to frame it differently for the public.

And then there’s the phrasing: "Not because he owns me, but 'cause he really knows me."

This line implies a kind of understanding that goes beyond conventional romance. To "know" someone in this context suggests trust, protection, and shared secrecy rather than possession. It aligns with the idea of someone who understands the truth of her identity, the reality of her situation, and supports her in keeping it guarded—which would fit a long-term bearding arrangement far more than a standard love song about a boyfriend.

That distinction makes more sense when we look at this through the lens of secrecy and protection. In a public-facing relationship where one person’s identity (or truth) needs shielding, "knowing" is the ultimate form of trust. He doesn’t claim her, he guards her secret. He’s not a romantic "owner," but rather a protector of her true self.

And because I can’t keep my mouth shut about it—the song basically says Karlie like a hundred times. Karlie What You Want To... The double entendre queen just let that one totally slip by on accident with no meaning at all? (Okay, moving on. Haha.)

Any who, now, in 2025, she’s suddenly bringing this lyric back into the conversation.

A Castle of Secrets: What’s Taylor Protecting?

Taylor’s use of castle imagery has been a long-standing metaphor for power, isolation, and protection.

“I could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me.” (New Romantics, 2014)

"The castle crumbled overnight." (Call It What You Want, 2017)

"Castles crumbling down." (Castles Crumbling, 2023)

The Bejeweled music video: Leaving the prince, keeping the castle.

If Taylor's castle is her empire, the thing she has worked tirelessly to construct, then what is she protecting? Her privacy? Her secrets? Her true self?

By wearing the T necklace at the most public event of the year, she’s putting the symbol front and center, just like she did in Reputation—an era built on hiding, reinvention, and carefully controlling what the world sees.

She isn’t just wearing a chain, especially to two subsequent events. She’s challenging us to question what the chain actually means.

The Castle Motif & The Public vs. Private Struggle

If we accept that she’s been building a castle out of the bricks thrown at her, does wearing the “T” necklace in public symbolize that she’s still guarding something behind castle walls?

This theme isn’t new.

She’s alluded to it in New Romantics ("we built a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me")—a song with explicit queer-coded themes. She visualized it in Bejeweled, where she ghosts the prince but keeps the castle (and now, two of her Bejeweled costars were with her at the Super Bowl). And let’s not forget Castles Crumbling, released in 2023, which is explicitly about watching an empire she built slowly fall apart.

Now, with Call It What You Want re-entering the conversation, we’re once again seeing Taylor reference the struggle of maintaining privacy, perception, and protection.

The Super Bowl: The Biggest Stage, The Loudest Message

The Super Bowl was not just a moment. It was the moment. A place where she knew every move, every detail, would be dissected under the world's microscope.

So why wear the necklace here?

If she truly wanted to keep things private, she could have left it at home. But instead, she chose to re-wear it in a setting where it would be analyzed and assigned meaning.

She is telling the world exactly what she wants them to see.

To Hetlors, it’s a clear confirmation of her love for Travis. To Gaylors, it’s a calculated nod to a song about secrecy and protection. To both, it’s an invitation: Call it what you want. ;)

Is Taylor Still Telling the Same Story?

Here’s where things get interesting.

If Call It What You Want was originally about hiding a relationship, and she’s now bringing that lyric back into the public eye, does that mean she’s still navigating secrecy in her love life?

And if Travis is her endgame, why would she need to lean into lyrics about secrecy, protection, and misunderstood love?

Could it be that the real love story—the one that truly "knows" her—is still hidden behind castle walls?

Final Thoughts: Call It What You Want, But Don’t Call It Coincidence

Taylor does not do things by accident.

She knew exactly what she was doing by wearing that necklace again at the Super Bowl—just like she knew exactly what she was doing when she wrote Call It What You Want in 2017.

A necklace is never just a necklace. An initial is never just an initial. And a Taylor Swift lyric is never just about one thing.

So, go ahead. Call it what you want.

But don’t say she didn’t tell us.

[cruyuu]

I have to talk about the epilogue (Yuuji part only), you guys, especially after that official art drop because I'm going crazy.

Here, we clearly have Yuko (who we know has a crush on Yuuji) accidentally meeting him in Sendai. This whole moment is romantically-coded, and we even have the usual hints and nudges (such as Yuuji saying he heard where Yuko had been from Nobara) that it isn't truly one-sided either. Key point is that Yuuji loved snow and that he still loves it, and not only that, but that they meet in his hometown when it's snowing. I was informed that Christmas in Japan is kind of like a Valentine's Day so we can all assume this could be a soft nod to a future romance of two people who once knew each other, right? Right????

Yuuji said he loved snow. Yuko specifically says that it's bright, and that it reminds her of him.

Interestingly, the scene of the land filled with snow which is shown reminds me of this:

In the anime this scene is so well-done. The complete darkness of the night around Yuuji is replaced with a shot of Yuuji standing in the middle of a bright, snowy field.

I just find it interesting how on the nose it all is. It practically confirms that yes, that truly is Yuuji's soul that Mahito saw back then, but also, that Yuko is really into him, so much so that she sees who he really is.

So, we have the perfect set up, the perfect time to bring about any sort of confirmation if Yuko will be his romantic interest (because why the nudges if that's not the case) and what's up with the frequent mention of snowing (and them meeting in Sendai, of all places?). Remember that it's also basically love day in Japan, it practically has it all.

And then...

I'm trying my hardest not to ugly laugh right now as I'm writing this but I'm failing. I'm wheezing and I sound like I'm choking. My friend keeps texting me over and over that Gege's insane and at first I thought she was just going crazy over the official art but then... I finally realized why she repeated that over and over after I've read the epilogue.

See, Gege had the perfect opportunity to drop some romantic (or hell, any vibe really) official art of Yuko and Yuuji here. Maybe them just walking the streets of Sendai side by side while the snow is falling, idk, anything. They easily could've done it considering they had everything on the silver platter and it would've made sense. Plus it'll be romantic as hell too.

Why is Yuuji– “Snow is special to me”– dancing in the falling snow with Sukuna, happily laughing while Sukuna appears to be leading the dance? Is this a deleted scene from 265? Is this a joke? Is this confirmation that this is why to Yuuji snow is special? Does this mean that yeah, actually, Yuko's crush will forever be one sided and that all of that between them was nothing? Is Yuko supposed to be a stand in (mirror) for another character... a character who Yuuji promised he'll always live with, no matter if the world rejected him?

Is sukuita real? I can now say it is lmfao. In the episode featuring Yuuji being with a girl who has a crush on him (meanwhile Sukuna's sharing a moment with Uraume) the official art drop is of them... together. Dancing. On love day.

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with W Magazine (2024)

Jonathan Bailey has traveled the world to promote Wicked, but there was one person he was especially eager to share the film with: his 94-year-old grandmother. She nurtured his love for musical theater and encouraged him to pursue ballet as a child, thus shaping his career in the arts.

So, the day after Wicked came out in the U.K., Bailey hosted a private screening at a local cinema for four generations of his family. While sitting in between his nana (who had painted her nails green for the occasion) and his mom and dad, Bailey became overcome with emotion.

“It’s a miraculous thing to know that what it came down to is having parents who let me go to the local village hall, and a grandparent who let me play, dance around and sing, and be free at such a young age,” Bailey tells W. “If you can catch a passion and just ring-fence it at such a young age, you never know what it can amount to.”

Adapted from the iconic Broadway stage musical, the film, which is set before the events of 1939’s The Wizard of Oz, chronicles the friendship between Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo), the future Wicked Witch of the West, and her classmate Galinda (Ariana Grande), later known as Glinda the Good.

Bailey’s scene-stealing portrayal of Fiyero Tigelaar, the charismatic Crown Prince of Winkie Country, only reaffirms his status as a Hollywood triple threat. In fact, “Dancing Through Life,” the earworm that serves as his character’s introduction at Shiz University, just cracked Billboard’s Hot 100 charts this week. (“That’s amazing. Do I get a certificate? What happens now?” Bailey quips.)

Bailey began rehearsing for Wicked in 2022 while shooting Fellow Travelers, the groundbreaking Showtime limited series that earned the 36-year-old his first Emmy nomination, and the third season of Bridgerton, the smash-hit Netflix romantic drama that made him a household name. Speaking on a video call from London in early December, the British star reveals that he is in the middle of reprising his role as Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, who is expecting his first child with wife Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley).

“There’s such an important relationship with the [Bridgerton] bros that has been developed over the series. Season four is going to be Luke [Thompson] and Yerin [Ha] being absolutely extraordinary, and there’s a whole plethora of new characters coming in,” Bailey says. “It’s so nice to come back, and it’s about celebrating the romance stories we’ve had and digging into the ones that are starting.”

Patience will have to be a virtue for Wicked and Bridgerton fans alike; the second half of the former, which Bailey coyly describes as “rich, bruising and hopeful,” will premiere next November, while the latter will debut in 2026.

How did you think about building your own interpretation of Fiyero?

The starting point was “Dancing Through Life.” He creates chaos around him, like he does in that song, because he’s got to match the chaos that’s going on inside. The challenge that I felt was the trope of a cool caddish prince. He’s deeply unnerved by stillness and adhering to rules and structure. That is probably a sign of someone who’s never really experienced love. When you see someone causing that sort of disturbance, it’s usually because they’ve never felt seen. An organizational psychologist, Adam Grant, sent me a message saying, “It’s a masterful portrayal of superficiality masking depth.” Out of all the things I’ve heard, that is the thing I’m going to get printed on a T-shirt.

The Shiz library scene was inspired by the work of Fred Astaire in Royal Wedding. What did you want to convey in those moments?

Fiyero has to come in and change the physical language and the emotional landscape of that school in one number. His fluidity, ease, and elasticity speak to his ability to maneuver and avoid. He’s quite avoidant. He has these bright, shining moments with everyone but never really allows the other person to land it with him. For those who understand the physical language of Fiyero, there are many Easter eggs and nods to what happens to him later in the story.

Fiyero is at the center of a love triangle between Elphaba and Galinda. What do you think he sees in each of them?

The brilliant thing about the film is that these slightly trivial tropes mask extraordinarily deep and shifting understandings of social experiences. The superficiality, the privilege, and the sense of easy chemistry make sense with Glinda. But I feel like he’s yearning for something more, and, as Elphaba sees, he’s unhappy and depressed. Fiyero and Elphaba can click in terms of the way they sing, dance, and move together. Elphaba has a calming presence on Fiyero and allows him to be himself. It’s a real privilege to meet someone who sees you for who you really are.

Are there any songs from the second Wicked movie you are most excited about?

“No Good Deed”—I cannot wait to see that come together. And “Thank Goodness”—it’s just such an incredibly operatic, Wagnerian opening. We know how brilliant the girls are, and I’m so excited to see the tonal shift that will inevitably happen to get to the end of the story.

You’ve been leveraging the success of projects with massive, global appeal (Bridgerton, Wicked, the next Jurassic World) to return to the theater (like your next role in Richard II).How have you been balancing these big tentpole franchises with projects that feel more niche and intimate?

I always lead with joy, and I’ve never accepted a job cynically. It goes back to this instinct—it feels like romance—where you have butterflies in your stomach and clarity of thought. I go back to the stage because I want to get better—and I want to be the best I can be. The best performances I’ve ever given on screen have been directly after coming off stage, where you hone your craft every single night. It’s brilliant, joyful, academic, and exhausting.

I’ve read more scripts in the last four years than probably in 20 years of working. It’s amazing to get sent scripts that you’re like, “This is absolutely brilliant. It’s not quite right for me, but I wonder if I can help that get made.” I’ve got a producer's hat that’s been popped on a few times in the last year, and I’m sure it’ll be coming out to play soon.

I want to keep working until something like Fellow Travelers isn’t seen as niche. We’re only on this planet for a short time, but if Fellow Travelers can be a mainstream show by the time I’ve finished my innings, I’d be very happy.

The last time Bridgerton viewers saw Anthony and Kate, they were on their way to India to meet with Kate’s family. Now that those characters are married, what are some of the new layers you’ve found in their relationship?

Anthony and Kate are these two planets that have always been in orbit of each other, and they finally come together. But then, what is life beyond [their courtship]? What’s so interesting about Anthony and what I so enjoyed in his season one arc is his relationship with duty and the power that he wielded over Daphne and his family, the isolation that he felt, and the anger that ensues because of [the passing of] his father.

I always said that you want Anthony to smile, and he does with Kate; he’s found his soulmate. In season three, they have that playfulness and, for the first time, they disregard anything that’s going on around them. They were the heart of every bit of drama and complication and, my God, how dramatic it was! Now suddenly, they’re having the time of their life, getting to play games again. They’re having a baby—everything they’ve ever wanted. What’s brilliant is to see how there are elements of yourself that you can’t grow out of. So, maybe, we’ll see hints of Anthony from season one.

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