#feels like a world hopping novel i like it

[imblocking-you]

Watching Death's Game because I like suffering 👍

[sapphicmsmarvel]

azriel: mr grumpy and his miss sunshine

Notes: super domestic

god im so fucking single it actually fucking hurts

This man would prefer to never see people. 

He loves his family and you, those are the only people he needs. 

You however, are a little social butterfly. Everywhere you two go, someone knows you. When random people say ‘good morning’ to you, you smile brightly and respond enthusiastically in kind. Or, you’ll randomly just speak to a stranger and end up laughing with them. 

You do not see yourself this way but he does. And then everyone in the inner circle would make jokes about you talking to random people and how it stresses Rhysand out because he doesn’t want you kidnapped. 

“By no means are you ignorant to the world's threats, I just don’t trust people with my figurative baby sister.” He explained when you asked him if he thought you were stupid. 

He called you his sunrise, you were bright, warm, sweet, you gave him hope. Meanwhile, you called him a grumpy bat. Sometimes you called him a grumpy old bat. Depends on if his bones were creaking or not. 

You were a magnet for people. Randomly, people would say things to you. Or you’d offer to help people if they needed it (but only when you had one of the guys with you, you didn’t trust everyone easily). 

You made friends everywhere you went, he however, kinda just sat behind and watched you interact with people. Made sure people didn’t take advantage of your kind heart, and nobody was being a pig with you. 

Azriel loved how social you were, he also adored how introverted you were. 

For example, while out at Ritas, he’d watch you be chatty and then just slow down. He can see when you start to zone out when your social battery has completely run out. So he’ll always say that he’s tired and wants to go home so the blame doesn’t go to you because it makes you anxious and you’ll feel the need to apologize constantly. 

You two would hold hands coming home, bumping into each other and giggling. You may be socially burnt out, but you never felt that way with him. 

He loved the “after” part of a night out. Watching you wipe your makeup off delicately with cloth, then hop in the bath with him. You’d delicately wash his wings as he hates feeling like they’re dirty. You two scrub each other down. When he gets to washing your hair, he’s so incredibly gentle with his hands. The idea of even accidentally pulling your hair hurts him. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he massages your scalp. He’ll then massage your shoulders, causing your head to drop down, your chin against your chest causing your spine to slightly stretch out and release the tension from being social. 

After the bath, you'd do your skincare, he’d watch as you gently apply toner, serums and creams. Then you’d throw on his ratty tunic and a pair of oversized shorts. You’d sit your (fine) ass on the counter and pull his hands into your lap to apply creams on them. Because he insisted he wanted to take care of his hands more. 

Once you two ended up in bed, you’d turn on the lap by your bedside and begin to read your novel. He would write in a notebook. You suggested he try journaling when he talked about his thoughts overcrowding his brain. 

Eventually you two would settle down together, he would lay on his side, his arm around your waist pulling you to his chest. Your head on a pillow that holds both of your heads with his arm underneath it. He refused to let you sleep by the window because he wants to be able to protect you.

The window’s open, letting the cool night breeze in. The only sounds are your breathing and the drapes billowing. 

You felt content in your husband's arms. Knowing he may be a grumpy introverted bat, but he’s yours. He loves you as yourself. 

He’s your home.

[nevernonline]

✧.* the pages of us; jww

synopsis: Wonwoo, a quiet and introspective writer, stumbles upon The Reading Nook, a small, tucked-away bookstore owned by Y/N, a passionate book lover. their shared love for literature draws them together, but the secrets hidden within the bookstore’s collection may hold the key to both their futures.

paring: wonwoo x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol), death of a parent.

word count: 15k

content: . non-idol idolings

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. 

The autumn wind tugged at Wonwoo’s jacket as he walked aimlessly through unfamiliar streets. The world around him buzzed—cars honking, people chattering—but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in unwritten sentences and half-formed ideas. When he saw it, he stopped.  

Nestled between a bakery and a flower shop was a small bookstore, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze: The Reading Nook. The warm glow spilling through the windows beckoned him, promising sanctuary. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.  

A bell jingled as the door closed behind him, and the city’s noise melted away, replaced by the soft hum of jazz. The scent of aged paper and faintly spiced tea wrapped around him like a blanket. The space was a labyrinth of towering shelves, cozy armchairs, and scattered stacks of books.  

Behind the counter, a young woman sat perched on a stool, engrossed in a book. Her oversized sweater hung loosely around her frame, and a pencil peeked out from behind her ear. A steaming mug sat within arm’s reach. At the sound of the bell, she looked up, her eyes meeting Wonwoo’s.  

“Lost?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.  

He hesitated. “Uh, No. Not really. I just needed a change of scenery.”  

Her smile widened. “Well, welcome to The Nook. Are you looking for something specific, or do you prefer letting the books choose you?”  

He shrugged, glancing around. “I’m not sure. Inspiration, maybe. I’m a writer. Or trying to be.”  

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “A creative soul, then. I love to see it.” She closed her book with a soft thud and hopped off the stool. “Lucky for you, this place has a knack for unsticking writers. Come on.”  

She led him past rows of novels and poetry collections to a corner that seemed quieter, almost sacred. Pulling a worn book from the shelf, she handed it to him. “This one’s a personal favorite. It might be just what you need.”  

Wonwoo flipped through the pages, his fingers brushing the edges of faded paper. “Thanks,” he murmured, though something on a lower shelf caught his eye.  

“What’s that section?” he asked, pointing to a small, tucked-away shelf labeled Oddities & Curiosities.  

Her laugh was soft and warm. “Oh, that’s the fun shelf. A collection of random finds—some rare, some downright strange. Wait here.”  

She crouched down and pulled out a slim, weathered journal bound in dark leather. She placed it in his hands, her expression thoughtful. “This is special. It’s been here forever. People call it the Muse’s Journal. Writers seem to like it. It’s basically a sacred text.”  

The leather was cracked with age, the pages filled with scribbled notes, odd sketches, and cryptic messages in faded ink. One phrase in particular caught his eye:  

“Every ending is a beginning in disguise.”  

He ran his fingers over the words, as if they might dissolve. “This almost feels like it’s meant for me.”  

She watched him, her gaze softening. “It tends to have that effect.”  

Their eyes met for a brief moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Then she broke the spell, gesturing toward the counter.  

“Let me ring those up for you.”  

At the counter, she slipped a hand-drawn bookmark into the journal before sliding it toward him. “Consider this a welcome gift,” she said with a smile. “Don’t be a stranger—I want to hear how it goes.”  

He nodded, tucking the journal and bookmark into his bag. “Thanks... Y/N,” he said, glancing at the nameplate on the counter.  

The bell jingled as he stepped out into the crisp autumn air. Inside, Y/N lingered by the counter, her fingers brushing the edge of her mug. She found herself wondering about the quiet writer who had wandered in, carrying stories he wasn’t ready to tell.  

Wonwoo’s apartment was small and spare, its corners cluttered with books and scattered drafts of his unfinished manuscript. The city hummed outside, but within the four walls, it was quiet—too quiet. He dropped his bag onto the table and pulled out the journal Y/N had given him, the leather cover cool under his fingertips.

He opened it carefully, the faint scent of old paper filling the room. The handwriting inside was uneven, a mix of bold, confident strokes and faint, hurried scrawls. Sketches of stars and swirling patterns filled the margins, and snippets of phrases seemed to leap from the pages:

To find the ending, look within.

Time folds like pages.

You already know the answer.

Near the middle, he found a folded scrap of paper tucked between the pages. Carefully, he opened it. Written in the same hurried scrawl were the words:

The key lies where the light breaks.

Wonwoo tilted his head, puzzled. It felt like a puzzle piece, disconnected but tantalizing. He sat down at his desk, pulled out his laptop, and opened the document containing his manuscript. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

For weeks, he’d stared at this screen, unable to write. But now, the words in the journal buzzed in his mind, stirring something deep within. He scrolled to the last paragraph of his story and began to type. Slowly at first, then faster.

The narrative began to flow, his characters moving through the scenes as if they’d been waiting for him to find his way back. The world outside faded as Wonwoo lost himself in the story.

The bell above the door jingled softly as Wonwoo stepped into The Reading Nook for the second time. It was raining outside, the kind of steady drizzle that dampened everything except his resolve to return. He shook off his umbrella by the door and glanced toward the counter, where Y/N was scribbling something in a notebook.

She looked up at the sound of the bell, her expression shifting from focus to a faint smile. “Back already?”

Wonwoo shrugged, setting his messenger bag on the counter. “The journal,” he said simply, pulling it out and sliding it toward her. “It’s... strange, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like it knows what I need to hear before I do.”

Y/N’s fingers brushed the journal as she picked it up, her movements slow, almost reverent. “That’s what people say about it,” she replied, her tone measured. “It has a way of finding the right person.”

Wonwoo tilted his head, catching the flicker of something in her voice—hesitation, or maybe unease. “You’ve had it for a long time, haven’t you?”

She nodded, her gaze lowering to the journal. “It was one of my mother’s finds. She used to say every book had a soul, but this one...” She trailed off, her expression softening as if caught in a memory. “This one feels alive.”

Wonwoo hesitated before asking, “And the notes inside? Like this one.” He unfolded the small slip of paper he’d found tucked in the pages. “What’s ‘where the light breaks’ supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Y/N’s guard slipped, her brows knitting together in a way that told him she knew more than she was letting on. Then, just as quickly, she recovered, flashing him an enigmatic smile. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it’s a metaphor. Writers love their metaphors, don’t they?”

Wonwoo gave a small laugh, though her deflection left him unconvinced. He decided not to press further, sensing that whatever secrets she was guarding weren’t ready to be shared.

“Mind if I stick around for a while?” he asked, changing the subject.

Y/N gestured toward the back of the store. “Go ahead. There’s some nice spots in the back corner by the staircase.”

Wonwoo found his favorite armchair nestled in the back corner of the store, near a shelf overflowing with worn poetry collections and dog-eared philosophy books. He placed the journal on the small table beside him and opened his laptop.

As the hours slipped by, the steady rhythm of rain against the windows created the perfect backdrop for writing. Y/N occasionally passed by, carrying stacks of books to reshelve or pausing to check in on him.

“How’s it going?” she asked during one of her rounds.

He glanced up, smiling faintly. “Better. The words are coming easier today. It’s strange—I haven’t felt this focused in weeks.”

Y/N arched a brow, setting a mug of tea on the table beside him. “Maybe it’s the bookstore’s magic,” she said lightly, though there was a touch of sincerity in her voice.

“Maybe,” he agreed, taking a sip of the tea. It was spiced and warm, the perfect antidote to the cold rain outside.

Y/N leaned against the edge of the shelf, her arms crossed. “What’s the problem anyway? Plot? Characters? Dialogue?”

“All of it,” he replied, gesturing helplessly at the screen. “It’s like I’ve forgotten how to write.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Want to try an exercise? Something I do when I’m in a creative rut?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “You write?”

“I dabble,” she said with a shrug, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “Mostly for myself. But the exercise works. Close your laptop.”

He hesitated but followed her instruction, snapping the laptop shut.

“Now,” she continued, “pick a random object in the room. Anything.”

Wonwoo glanced around, his gaze landing on an antique globe sitting on a nearby shelf. “That.”

“Perfect,” Y/N said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. “Tell me about the person who owns it. What do they do? Where have they been? What’s their story?”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the prompt. Slowly, he began to speak. “They’re... an explorer. Someone who’s seen the world but is always looking for something they can’t quite find. Maybe it’s a place, or a feeling, or—”

“A person,” Y/N interjected softly, her eyes meeting his.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice quieter. “A person.”

They shared a small smile before Y/N stood, brushing her hands on her sweater. “See? You’re not blocked—you’re just overthinking. Write like that, without the pressure.”

Their conversations began to spill beyond writing. That evening, after the store had emptied out, Y/N brought over not two mugs of tea this time, but two glasses of whiskey chilled with a thick cut ball of ice and sat beside him in his corner.

“What’s your story, Wonwoo?” she asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“My story?” he repeated, taking a sip of the drink to buy time.

“Yeah,” she said, tucking her legs beneath her. “You know all these characters and worlds, but what about you? What made you want to write in the first place?”

He hesitated, her question striking a chord. “I think It’s the only way I know how to make sense of things. Of people. Writing lets me put the world into words, even when it doesn’t make sense in real life.”

“That’s beautiful,” she said softly.

He gave her a shy smile, unused to such direct praise. “What about you? Why books?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the shelves around them. “Books were my escape growing up. My mom used to say a good story could take you anywhere, even if you couldn’t leave where you were. She started this place so people could find those stories.”

“Did you always know you’d take over?” Wonwoo asked.

“Not at first,” she admitted, tracing the rim of her mug. “I thought I’d do something else, but when she passed, I realized how much of her was here. Keeping the store alive felt like keeping her alive, too.”

Her voice wavered slightly, and Wonwoo reached out instinctively, his hand brushing hers. “She’d be proud of you,” he said gently.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks, Wonwoo. That means a lot. To creative breakthroughs,” she said, raising her glass.

“And to mysterious journals,” Wonwoo added with a smirk, clinking his glass against hers.

The whiskey was smooth, warming him from the inside out. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the tension of the day melt away.

“Once,” Y/N said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, “a guy came in asking if we sold books printed on edible paper. Said he wanted to consume knowledge literally.”

Wonwoo laughed, nearly spilling his drink. “Did you find him anything?”

“I tried to sell him a cookbook. He wasn’t amused.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “This place must be full of stories.”

“It is,” she said, her voice softer now. “But not just the ones on the shelves.”

“What do you mean? 

Y/n smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I feel like all of my core memories were here. WIth my mom. With customers just like you, I read about sex for the first time here with my friends just spending our day giggling at the words, I had my birthday parties here, all of that. When I was younger I thought there was something hiding beneath the walls of the bookshelves like a treasure hunt. I even drew my own map, all of it. It’s just something special.” 

Wonwoo’s grin softened as he leaned back in his chair, his glass of whiskey resting loosely in his hand. He took in Y/N’s wistful expression, the way her eyes shimmered with nostalgia. “That’s really beautiful,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It sounds like this place has always been more than just a bookstore for you.”  

Y/N laughed softly, a touch of self-consciousness in her tone. “Yeah, it’s kind of silly, isn’t it? Most people probably see it as just another store, but to me…” She gestured around them, her hand sweeping across the shelves and corners bathed in golden light. “It’s everything. A home, a memory box, a time machine, even.”  

“You made a treasure map?” he asked, his lips twitching into an amused smile.  

“Oh, yeah,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing. She sat up straighter, miming the act of unrolling a scroll. “I was convinced there were secret passages hidden in the walls or, like, a chest buried under the floorboards. I even roped my friends into searching for hours. We’d sneak around with flashlights after the store closed, trying not to get caught.”  

“Did you ever find anything?” Wonwoo asked, playing along.  

She smiled mischievously. “Well, I did find an old tin box stuffed behind a loose board in the back. Turned out to be a stash of my mom’s notes and doodles from when she was designing the store. She’d drawn all these little floor plans and written these whimsical ideas for themed sections. It was like finding a treasure, but instead of gold, it was her imagination.”  

Wonwoo’s brows lifted in surprise. “That sounds even better than gold.”  

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, her voice softer now. “It was.”  

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The store felt alive around them, the silence filled with the weight of its stories. Wonwoo glanced toward the rows of shelves, his gaze lingering on their uneven, timeworn edges.  

“You’ve spent your whole life here,” he said finally, his tone contemplative. “It’s like you and this place are woven together.”  

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”  

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his dark eyes meeting hers. “You’ve built something that carries so much meaning—not just for you, but for everyone who steps through that door. I mean, look at me. I was completely lost, and this place pulled me in. It’s rare.”  

Her smile returned, small but genuine. “You really think so?”  

He nodded without hesitation. “I do. And I think your mom would be proud of what you’ve done with it.”  

Y/N’s fingers tightened around her glass for a moment, her gaze dropping to the amber liquid inside. “That means a lot.”  

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “What about you, though? What’s your version of a treasure map? Did you ever have a place like this growing up?”  

Wonwoo paused, considering the question. “Not really. My family moved around a lot, so I never had the chance to get attached to any one place. But I guess that’s why books became so important to me. They were the only constant.”  

“Did you have a favorite?”  

He chuckled, the sound soft and low. “I had a beat-up copy of The Little Prince. I carried it everywhere. The pages were falling out by the time I hit high school, but I couldn’t let it go. It felt like it understood me in a way nothing else did.”  

Y/N smiled, her eyes lighting up. “That’s one of my favorites too. It’s so simple, but it stays with you.”  

“Yeah,” he said, his expression turning thoughtful. “I think that’s what I want my writing to do. I want someone to pick up my book and feel the way I felt holding that one—like it’s speaking directly to them.”  

“That’s a pretty amazing goal,” Y/N said. “And if your manuscript is anything like the pieces I’ve seen you scribble on napkins around here, you’re on your way.”  

Wonwoo laughed, feeling his cheeks heat under her praise. “Well, that’s high praise coming from the owner of the coziest, most magical bookstore in the city.”  

“Oh, we’re the only magical bookstore in the city,” Y/N quipped, raising her glass in mock toast.  

“Fair enough,” Wonwoo said, clinking his glass against hers again.  

The night deepened, the whiskey bottle slowly emptying as their conversation wandered from books to music, from childhood memories to dreams they hadn’t dared to share before. The air between them grew warmer, the initial reserve giving way to an easy intimacy.  

By the time the clock struck midnight, Y/N found herself leaning against the arm of her chair, her head resting on her hand as she watched Wonwoo animatedly describe a scene from his favorite film. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at ease with someone.  

Wonwoo caught her gaze and paused mid-sentence, his smile softening. “What?”  

“Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just you talk about stories like they’re alive. It’s nice.”  

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a quiet sincerity, he said, “I think it’s because they are. And you—you’re part of why I’m starting to believe in them again.”  

Her breath caught, the weight of his words settling in her chest. For once, she didn’t know what to say, so she simply smiled, the corners of her lips curving upward as warmth spread through her.  

Outside, the rain began again, tapping lightly against the windows, as if the universe itself were trying to write the next chapter of their story.  

The clock on the wall chimed softly, breaking the stillness. Y/N glanced at it and sighed. “We should probably call it a night. I have to open up in the morning.”

“Right,” Wonwoo said, though he was reluctant to leave.

As he gathered his things, Y/N walked him to the door, her steps slow.

“Thanks for staying,” she said as he shrugged on his coat.

“Thanks for the whiskey,” he replied with a smile. “And for letting me hijack your bookstore every day.”

“You’re not hijacking it,” she said, her tone warm. “You’re just  adding to its story.”

He paused, her words settling in his chest like a quiet truth. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

As he stepped out into the cool night, he couldn’t help but glance back at the softly glowing windows of The Reading Nook, already looking forward to returning to its quiet magic—and to her—tomorrow.

The morning at the store was unusually busy, with regulars and passersby drifting in and out. The faint hum of chatter and the occasional scrape of chairs filled the air, blending with the soft jazz playing from the speakers. Y/N moved easily between the shelves, offering recommendations and ringing up purchases with her usual calm efficiency.

Wonwoo arrived just past noon, carrying the journal tucked under his arm. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the cheerful jingle of the entry bell. Y/N, stationed behind the counter, looked up and gave him a warm smile.

“Back so soon?” she teased.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, returning her smile as he made his way to his usual spot in the back corner.

But today, instead of pulling out his laptop, Wonwoo placed the journal on the table and opened it. His fingers traced the faint ink of the unfamiliar handwriting as he flipped through the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

After the rush died down, Y/N joined him, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. She placed one beside him and leaned against the edge of the table. “You’ve been staring at that thing all week,” she said, nodding at the journal. “What the hell is so fascinating about it?”

Wonwoo looked up, his expression thoughtful. “It’s strange. The more I read it, the more it feels like the writer was leaving clues for someone, almost like they wanted to be found.”

Y/N’s curiosity piqued. She pulled up a chair, sitting across from him. “What kind of clues?”

He turned the journal toward her, pointing to a section where a paragraph had been underlined. “Here, for example. The writer talks about a ‘hidden heart’ beneath the shelves, something meant to outlast them. And here—” He flipped a few pages, showing her a sketch of what looked like a rough map. “This is a drawing of something, but I can’t figure out what. It’s like they were mapping out a part of the store.”

Y/N leaned closer, her brow furrowing. “Let me see that.” She studied the map, her fingers brushing the edges of the page. The sketch showed a series of lines and rectangles, vaguely resembling the layout of the bookstore, with an X marked near the back wall.

“That’s... odd,” she murmured. “It does look like the store, but this corner doesn’t exist anymore. My mom remodeled years ago to add the café section.”

“Could there be something behind the wall?” Wonwoo asked, his voice low with intrigue.

Y/N bit her lip, considering the possibility. “Maybe. But I don’t remember her ever mentioning anything like that.”

They spent the next hour poring over the journal together, comparing the map to the store’s current layout and trying to piece together the cryptic notes scribbled in the margins. Phrases like “For the dreamers who wander” and “Seek, and you will find” were scattered throughout, written in a looping, elegant script.

“This feels like something out of one of your novels,” Y/N said, glancing at Wonwoo with a small smile.

“I know,” he replied, his excitement evident. “It’s almost too perfect.”

“But if there’s something hidden, why hasn’t anyone found it before?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” he said, standing abruptly. “Where’s that back corner? The one your mom remodeled?”

Y/N hesitated but stood as well, leading him toward the café section. They stopped in front of the wall that now housed shelves of cookbooks and travel guides.

“This is where the X would be,” she said, gesturing toward space. “But if there’s anything back there, it’s been sealed up for years.”

Wonwoo ran his hand along the wooden paneling, his expression thoughtful. “It wouldn’t hurt to check, right?”

Y/N disappeared into the back room and returned with a small step ladder and a flashlight. Together, they began carefully inspecting the wall, knocking on the panels and listening for any hollow sounds.

“Here,” Wonwoo said after a few minutes, tapping on a spot near the floor. The sound was noticeably different, dull and hollow compared to the rest.

Y/N crouched beside him, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “You think that’s it?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

They worked together to carefully remove the lower panel, revealing a small recess hidden behind it. Inside was an old, dust-covered wooden box, no bigger than a shoebox.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Oh my God.”

Wonwoo reached in and gently pulled the box out, placing it on the floor between them. It was heavy, the wood worn and etched with faint carvings of stars and vines. A small latch held it shut.

“Do we open it?” he asked, looking at Y/N.

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly. “We have to.”

As Y/N stared at the box and its mysterious contents, a nagging thought began to creep into her mind. She looked at the map again, then at the journal, then at Wonwoo. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Wait a second,” she said, her tone suddenly sharp. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“This.” she gestured at the journal and the box, her voice rising slightly. “This whole... treasure hunt. It’s because I told you about my stupid childhood treasure map last night, isn’t it?”

“What? No fucking way.” Wonwoo said, his brows knitting together in confusion.

Y/N stood and crossed her arms, glaring down at him. “It’s just too convenient, okay? You show up here with this mystical, cryptic journal I gave you, right after I tell you how I used to dream about finding treasure in this store. And now, look. We’ve ‘found’ a hidden box in the wall? What are the odds of that, Wonwoo?”

Her words hit him like a slap, and he rose to his feet, looking genuinely hurt. “Y/N, I’m not making this up,” he said, his voice steady but defensive. “Why would I even go through all this trouble just to mess with you?”

“I don’t know.” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re a writer. Maybe you thought it’d be funny, or it’d give you material for your next book?”

“Seriously?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You really think I’d fake something like this? For what? A laugh?”

Y/N hesitated, suddenly unsure. Her anger fizzled as quickly as it had flared, leaving behind an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and guilt. She bit her lip and glanced at the box again, its contents undeniably real.

“Well,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “It just seems too perfect. Like something out of one of your stories.”

Wonwoo sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening. “I get it. It does feel like something out of a book. But that’s what makes it so amazing, Y/N. It’s real.”

She looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But all she saw was sincerity—the kind that made her chest tighten.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice small. “It’s just…this place means a lot to me, and I guess I got defensive.”

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I get why you’d be suspicious. But I promise, this journal, this box—it’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath and sat back down, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders. “I guess I owe you the benefit of the doubt,” she said with a sheepish smile. “You’re not exactly the pranking type.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replied, his lips quivering into a small smile. “Although now I kind of wish I had thought of this. It’s a pretty great story.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Don’t push it.”

Inside the box, they found an assortment of items: a stack of faded letters tied with a silk ribbon, a small leather pouch filled with pressed flowers, and a single gold key. At the very bottom was a handwritten note on yellowed paper.

Y/N picked it up and unfolded it carefully, her eyes scanning the elegant script.

“For those who cherish stories: The heart of the dreamer lies not in the treasure itself, but in the act of seeking. May you find what you didn’t know you were looking for.”

The note was signed with her mother’s name.

Y/N stared at the signature, her throat tightening. “She left this here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Wonwoo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “She wanted you to find it.”

Y/N blinked back tears and looked at him. “But what does it mean? The key, the letters... What was she trying to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo said softly, “but I think we’re only just beginning to understand the story.”

They sat there in the quiet of the bookstore, the mystery unfolding around them like the opening pages of a long-lost novel. The key glinted in the soft light, a silent invitation to continue the journey.

After a moment of silence, she reached for the journal again, turning it over in her hands. “So... if you’re not messing with me, what do you think this all means? The key, the letters, the note...”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo admitted, crouching beside the box once more. “But I think your mom was trying to leave you something—not just in the literal sense, but maybe a piece of herself. Maybe she wanted you to find it when you were ready.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, her fingers brushing over the note. “She always did love a good mystery.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a mystery writer here to help,” Wonwoo said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “All right, detective. Where do we start?”

Wonwoo held up the gold key, letting it catch the light. “With this,” he said simply.

The gold key gleamed under the soft light of the bookstore, its intricate details catching Y/N’s eye. It was old, heavy in Wonwoo’s hand as he turned it over thoughtfully.

“So,” he began, “any idea what this might go to?”

Y/N shook her head, her brow furrowing as she stared at the key. “Not really. It’s not from the register, or the front door, and it doesn’t look like any of the locks I’ve seen around here. It’s  too decorative.”

Wonwoo placed the key on the table, its metallic clink filling the quiet space. “Could it belong to something in the back room? Maybe there’s an old chest or cabinet hidden back there.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “There is an old storage cabinet in the back, but it’s just filled with leftover inventory and random junk. I don’t think it even has a lock anymore.”

“Well,” Wonwoo said, standing up and grabbing the key, “let’s find out.”

The two of them moved through the store, weaving between shelves and heading toward the back room. Y/N flipped on the overhead light, revealing a space cluttered with boxes, stacks of old books, and various odds and ends that had accumulated over the years.

“There,” she said, pointing toward a tall wooden cabinet tucked against the far wall. It was scratched and weathered, its once-polished surface dulled by time.

Wonwoo approached it, crouching to examine the hardware. “Looks like it used to have a keyhole, but it’s been replaced with this newer latch.” He stood and glanced around the room. “What else could it fit?”

Y/N frowned, scanning the room. Then her gaze landed on an old wooden chest half-buried beneath a pile of dusty books. Her heart skipped a beat. “That,” she said, gesturing toward it. “It used to belong to my mom. I haven’t opened it in years.”

Wonwoo crossed to the chest and carefully cleared the books away, revealing its ornate design. It was carved with swirling patterns and faint images of stars and moons—details that mirrored the etchings on the box they’d found.

“This has to be it,” he said, his voice low with anticipation.

Y/N knelt beside him, her hands trembling slightly as she handed him the key. “Go ahead,” she said.

Wonwoo hesitated for a moment, then slid the key into the lock. It fit perfectly, turning with a satisfying click. The lid creaked as he lifted it, revealing the chest’s contents:

Inside was a collection of items that seemed to have been frozen in time. There were stacks of faded photographs, a leather-bound notebook, and a small music box. Among them was a sealed envelope with Y/N’s name written in her mother’s handwriting.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She reached for the envelope, her fingers brushing the paper lightly before pulling it free.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked gently.

She nodded, though her hands were shaking as she opened the letter.

The letter was written in the same elegant script as the note they’d found earlier. Y/N’s eyes scanned the words, her voice barely above a whisper as she read aloud:

"My dearest Y/N, If you’re reading this, it means you’ve found the box and followed the clues. I always knew you would—your curiosity has always been your greatest strength. This store is more than a place for books; it’s a sanctuary for dreamers, just like you.

The chest holds pieces of my story, but it’s also a reminder to create your own. The key isn’t just for unlocking the past—it’s for opening doors to the future. Keep seeking, keep dreaming, and never stop believing in the magic of stories.

With all my love, Mom.”

Y/N’s voice broke as she finished the letter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at her eyes, laughing softly. “She always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

Wonwoo smiled, his own eyes glassy. “She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was,” Y/N said, clutching the letter to her chest. “And somehow, she still is.”

They spent the next hour carefully going through the chest. The photographs captured moments from her mother’s life: her standing in front of the bookstore on opening day, laughing with friends at a party, and sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by books, her smile bright and full of life.

The notebook turned out to be her mother’s journal, filled with musings about the store, her dreams for its future, and even sketches of book displays.

But it was the music box that brought the most unexpected surprise. When Y/N wound it up and opened it, a soft, haunting melody filled the room. Beneath the mechanism was a small, folded piece of paper.

Wonwoo picked it up and unfolded it, his brow furrowing. “It’s another map,” he said, holding it up for Y/N to see.

This one was simpler than the first, but it clearly pointed to a specific section of the bookstore: the poetry aisle.

“Of course,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a teary laugh. “That was her favorite section.”

“Looks like the treasure hunt isn’t over,” Wonwoo said, his smile growing.

Y/N glanced at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding?” he said, standing and offering her his hand. “This is the best story I’ve been part of in years.”

Y/N took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “Then let’s go see what else she left behind.”

The poetry section was nestled in one of the coziest corners of The Reading Nook, lit by warm, golden light from an antique floor lamp. The shelves were crammed with well-loved volumes, their spines a kaleidoscope of faded colors. Y/N and Wonwoo crouched together, studying the map they’d found in the music box.

“It’s pointing right here,” Wonwoo said, tapping a spot on the map that corresponded to a low shelf at the far end of the aisle. “You think there’s something hidden behind the books?”

“Only one way to find out,” Y/N murmured, already reaching for a stack of slim poetry collections. She began pulling them off the shelf, careful not to damage the fragile covers.

Wonwoo joined in, working methodically as the gap widened. Behind the books, they found an old wooden panel, its edges rough and worn. A faint carving was etched into the wood—a heart with an arrow through it.

Y/N ran her fingers over the carving, her pulse quickening. “This has to be it,” she whispered. “It matches the note in the journal about the ‘hidden heart.’”

“Is it loose?” Wonwoo asked, leaning in closer.

Y/N pushed gently on the panel, and it gave way with a soft creak, revealing a small compartment. Inside was a folded piece of parchment and a brass locket.

She carefully picked up the parchment and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the page. Before she could fully process what it said, the jingle of the front doorbell shattered the quiet.

“Y/N?”

The voice was sharp, authoritative, and instantly recognizable. Y/N froze, her blood running cold. She turned slowly to see her estranged aunt, Evelyn, standing at the entrance to the poetry aisle. Evelyn was tall and impeccably dressed, her tailored coat and polished heels making her look as though she belonged in a boardroom rather than a cozy bookstore.

“Who’s that?” Wonwoo asked softly, sensing her sudden tension.  

“My aunt,” Y/N muttered, her voice tight. “And she doesn’t visit for small talk.”  

Footsteps echoed down the aisle before Evelyn appeared, impeccably dressed in a dark tailored coat and stilettos that clicked sharply against the hardwood. Behind her trailed a man in a crisp gray suit, carrying a leather briefcase. His expression was unreadable but efficient, like a man who had won many battles in court.  

Evelyn’s sharp gaze fell immediately on Y/N, then flicked to Wonwoo and the cleared shelf. Her lips twisted into a thin, mirthless smile. “Well, this is quite the scene,” she said. “Still playing your little bookstore games, I see.”  

“What do you want, Evelyn?” Y/N asked, her tone defensive as she stood, tucking the parchment behind her back. Wonwoo quickly picked up the locket and slipped it into his pocket, his movements discreet.  

Evelyn gestured to the man beside her. “This is Mr. Calloway, my attorney. I brought him here to settle some legal matters concerning this store.”  

“Legal matters?” Y/N repeated, her stomach knotting.  

“Correct,” Calloway said, his voice as polished as his appearance. He opened his briefcase and produced a stack of papers, handing them to Evelyn.  

Evelyn stepped closer, holding the documents out to Y/N. “This property is not yours outright, dear. It belongs to the family, and I’m here to claim my share. Effective immediately, I’ll be taking ownership and moving forward with plans to redevelop this space into something profitable. The bookstore has had its time.”  

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she refused to take the papers. “You can’t just walk in here and take the store. My mother left it to me.”  

Evelyn gave a small, cold laugh. “Your mother left behind a mess. Do you have any idea how much debt this place is in? How much is it bleeding every month? I’m doing you a favor, Y/N. You can’t save this place—it’s a relic.”  

Wonwoo stepped forward, his expression calm but his voice firm. “With all due respect, ma’am, this place is more than just a business. It’s a community hub, a home for people who need it.”  

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to him, her disdain palpable. “And who, exactly, are you?”  

“Wonwoo,” he said, offering a polite nod. “I’m a writer, and I’ve been spending a lot of time here. Enough to know how much this store means—not just to Y/N, but to the people who come here.”  

“Another dreamer,” Evelyn muttered, shaking her head. She turned back to Y/N, her expression hardening. “You can surround yourself with all the idealists you want, but it won’t change the facts. I’ve already spoken to the developers, and they’re eager to get started. Your little bookstore is standing in the way of progress.”  

“I won’t let you do this,” Y/N said, her voice trembling but resolute. “This place isn’t just mine—it’s my mother’s legacy. You have no right to take it away.”  

Calloway cleared his throat, his tone measured. “Legally speaking, your aunt does have a valid claim. Without a specific stipulation in the will granting you sole ownership, the property reverts to shared family rights. Evelyn has chosen to exercise her claim.”  

Y/N’s heart sank, but before she could respond, Wonwoo stepped in again. “That’s interesting,” he said, his voice smooth. “Because we just found something that might make things a bit more complicated.”  

Evelyn’s sharp gaze locked onto him. “What do you mean?”  

Wonwoo shot Y/N a subtle glance, silently urging her to trust him. “I mean, Y/N’s mom left behind a lot of things in this store. Memories, letters, documents. Who’s to say there isn’t something legally binding among them?”  

Y/N caught on quickly, her hand tightening around the parchment. “That’s right. My mom was meticulous—she wouldn’t leave this place unprotected.”  

Evelyn’s confident facade faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. “If you have something concrete, I suggest you present it to a lawyer,” she said coolly. “Until then, this store is mine to do with as I please.”  

Wonwoo moved to stand between Y/N and Evelyn, his posture calm but firm. “You’re not taking anything today. Not until we’ve had a chance to go through everything and get legal advice of our own.”  

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can stall me?”  

“Not stall,” he said, his voice steady. “Protect what’s rightfully hers until the truth comes out.”  

There was a tense silence before Evelyn sighed dramatically, turning on her heel. “You have 48 hours to present proof. After that, I’m filing the necessary paperwork to take control.” She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze icy. “Don’t waste my time.”  

She strode out of the store, Calloway following closely behind. The doorbell jingled sharply as it shut behind them.  

Y/N slumped against the shelf, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “She’s serious,” she whispered. “She’s really going to try to take this place.”  

“She won’t,” Wonwoo said firmly, pulling the locket from his pocket. “Because we’re going to find out exactly what your mom left behind. And if there’s even the slightest chance this parchment can stop her, we’re using it.”  

Y/N straightened, her resolve hardening. “She’s not taking this store, Wonwoo. I don’t care what it takes.”  

He smiled faintly. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s figure out what else your mom wanted you to find.”  

Together, they returned to the hidden compartment, determined to uncover the secrets that would save the bookstore.

The tension from Evelyn’s visit still lingered as Y/N and Wonwoo returned to the poetry aisle. Y/N’s hands shook slightly as she gently unfolded the parchment again, staring at her mother’s handwriting. Wonwoo sat beside her, leaning closer to read over her shoulder.  

The note was more cryptic than her mother’s previous messages, written in elegant script:  

"Look for the words that open doors.  

Find the book where the stars meet the sea,  

And inside, you’ll discover the key to everything."

Y/N exhaled sharply, brushing her hair out of her face. “What does that even mean? ‘The stars meet the sea’? It sounds like a riddle.”  

“It is a riddle,” Wonwoo said thoughtfully, his brows furrowing as he studied the note. “But it’s also specific. Think about your mom—did she ever talk about a particular book that had something to do with stars or the sea?”  

Y/N hesitated, her eyes scanning the shelves around them. “She loved poetry. And she had a way of finding meaning in everything. If this is a reference to a book, it’s probably one she treasured.”  

Wonwoo stood and began browsing the nearby shelves, running his fingers along the spines. “What about the ones she kept separate from the main inventory? Rare or personal copies?”  

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “The display case in the main room. She kept her favorite editions there.”  

The two of them hurried to the display case, a vintage piece with glass panels that housed a carefully curated selection of books. Y/N unlocked it with a small key she kept on her necklace, the faint scent of old paper wafting out as she opened it.  

“‘Stars meet the sea,’” Wonwoo murmured, scanning the titles. His gaze stopped on a slim, navy-blue book with a constellation design embossed on the cover. Where the Stars Meet the Sea, it read.  

“This has to be it,” Y/N said, reaching for the book. She opened it slowly, her breath catching as something fluttered out from between the pages and landed on the glass.  

It was a folded piece of parchment, similar to the others, but heavier this time. Wonwoo picked it up carefully, unfolding it to reveal a sketched blueprint.  

“This... is a layout of the store,” Y/N said, her eyes widening as she recognized the familiar shape of the rooms and shelves.  

Wonwoo pointed to a section marked with an X near the back of the building. “What’s here?”  

“That’s the storage closet,” Y/N said, frowning. “I’ve been there a million times. There’s nothing special about it.”  

“Maybe there is,” Wonwoo said, already heading toward the back. “Your mom clearly wanted you to find something, and I don’t think she’d send you on a wild goose chase.”  

The storage closet was cramped and cluttered, packed with old boxes and supplies. Y/N and Wonwoo worked side by side to clear the space, uncovering the back wall. That’s when Y/N noticed something strange: a faint seam in the wood paneling.  

“There’s something behind this,” she said, brushing dust off the edges.  

Wonwoo grabbed a nearby screwdriver and began prying the panel loose. It took some effort, but eventually, the panel gave way, revealing a hidden compartment built into the wall.  

Inside was a small wooden box, secured with a delicate latch. Y/N’s hands trembled as she unfastened it, revealing a stack of letters tied with a ribbon, along with an aged leather journal.  

“These are my mom’s,” Y/N said, her voice breaking. She picked up the journal, flipping through the pages filled with her mother’s familiar handwriting. “It’s... it’s like she’s talking to me again.”  

Wonwoo watched her quietly for a moment before speaking. “I think we should take a break. You’ve been through a lot today.”  

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “But there’s so much to—”  

“Later,” Wonwoo interrupted gently. “Let’s take a minute to breathe. You’re not alone in this, Y/N. We’ll figure it out together.”  

She hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”  

Back in the main room, Wonwoo took it upon himself to lighten the mood. While Y/N sat curled up in one of the armchairs, he went to the small kitchenette in the back of the store. A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses of wine and a plate of crackers and cheese he had found in the pantry.  

“Wine and snacks,” he said with a soft smile, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s not much, but I figured you could use something to take the edge off.”  

Y/N laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You really didn’t have to do this.”  

“I wanted to,” he said simply, handing her a glass.  

They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their wine. The quiet hum of the store enveloped them, warm and comforting.  

“This place really is magic,” Wonwoo said eventually, his voice soft.  

Y/N glanced at him, her heart tugging at the sincerity in his expression. “You think so?”  

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “It’s not just the books or the memories. It’s you. The way you talk about this place, the way you care about it... it’s inspiring.”  

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, her fingers tightening around her glass. “You’re just saying that.”  

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “You make this place what it is, Y/N. Your mom might have started it, but you’ve kept its heart alive. And I think that’s worth fighting for.”  

Her throat tightened at his words, and she managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything.”  

“Always,” he said, his voice low and steady.  

For the first time that day, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. Whatever secrets her mother had left behind—and whatever battles lay ahead—she wasn’t facing them alone. And that made all the difference.  

Y/N leaned back in the armchair, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass. The dim light of the bookstore wrapped around them like a cocoon, soft and intimate. But the weight of the day still clung to her like a second skin—her aunt’s cruel words, the lawyer’s smug expression, the constant fear of losing everything.  

She sighed, staring into her glass. “I don’t get it. How can someone like Evelyn have the same blood as my mom? They’re polar opposites. My mom gave her life to this place, and Evelyn just... wants to turn it into concrete and drywall.”  

Wonwoo, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor near the armchair, tilted his head thoughtfully. “Your aunt is  something else, huh?” he said carefully, a hint of amusement in his voice.  

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, startled by his tone. “That’s putting it lightly.”  

“No, seriously,” he said, leaning forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “She stormed in here like a villain from some soap opera. All she was missing was a dramatic evil laugh and a pet cat to stroke menacingly.”  

Y/N snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “Stop it. She’s bad, but she’s not a cartoon character.”  

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo countered, his grin widening. “She walked in here with her heels clicking like a countdown to doom and a lawyer who looked like he was ready to auction off your soul. I half-expected her to twirl her hair and say, ‘You’ll rue the day you crossed Evelyn!’”  

That did it. Y/N burst out laughing, the tension in her chest loosening with every chuckle. She doubled over slightly, her glass wobbling in her hand.  

Wonwoo sat back, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Laughter’s good for stress. And let’s face it, your aunt is absurd enough to be a villain in one of those cheesy romance novels you keep tucked in the corner.”  

Y/N wiped at her eyes, still giggling. “You’re not wrong. She’s dramatic enough to fit right in.”  

“And her lawyer?” Wonwoo continued, warming to the subject. “He had the personality of an empty notebook. No offense to him, but I’ve seen potted plants with more charisma.”  

She laughed harder, almost spilling her wine this time. “Okay, okay, now you’re being mean!”  

“It’s not mean it's true,” he teased. “Seriously, though, who shows up with a lawyer for a family dispute? It’s like she planned this whole takeover with a PowerPoint presentation and a laser pointer.”  

Y/N leaned back into her chair, her laughter quieting to a soft, lingering smile. For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.  

“But I’m helping,” he said, a boyish grin lighting up his face.  

She nodded, warmth blooming in her chest. “You are. More than you know.”  

There was a brief pause as they locked eyes, the humor fading into something quieter, more intimate. Wonwoo’s expression softened, his voice dropping to a gentle tone.  

“Your aunt might be a lot to handle, but she doesn’t define you, Y/N. Or this store. You’re stronger than she is, and you have something she’ll never understand—passion. You care about this place. That’s why you’ll win.”  

Y/N’s smile wavered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Thank you, Wonwoo. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”  

He reached over and gently plucked the glass from her hand, setting it aside. “You’d figure it out. You’re pretty incredible, Y/N. I’m just here to remind you of that.”  

She felt her cheeks flush, her heart thudding in her chest. “You’re really good at this whole pep talk thing.”  

“Years of practice,” he said lightly, leaning back with a small smile. “But honestly, it’s easy when it’s you. You make it worth it.”  

The warmth in his words settled over her like a comforting blanket, and for the first time in days, she felt the storm inside her quiet.

Y/N grabbed the wine bottle from the kitchenette, glancing over her shoulder at Wonwoo, who was sprawled lazily on the floor with his glass in hand. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious Writer. If we’re going to drink more wine, you’re spilling some juicy secrets.”  

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Secrets? What makes you think I have any?”  

“Oh, please,” she said, settling down across from him with a grin. “You’ve got that whole brooding, quiet thing going on. There’s definitely something juicy under there.”  

He chuckled, shaking his head as she refilled their glasses. “I think you’re overestimating how interesting I am.”  

Y/N leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Try me. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”  

“Embarrassing?” he echoed, groaning dramatically. “You’re really starting with the hard-hitting questions.”  

“Absolutely,” she said with a smirk. “This wine isn’t free, you know. Payment in absolutely cringe-worthy stories, please.”  

Wonwoo took a sip of his wine, stalling as his ears turned faintly pink. “Fine. When I was in college, I joined a karaoke contest because my friends dared me. I thought I was nailing it—singing my heart out to some cheesy pop song. Turns out, the mic was off the whole time, and everyone was just laughing at me lip-syncing like a maniac.”  

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “No way. What song was it?”  

He winced, looking away. “...‘Call Me Maybe.’”  

Her laughter doubled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Stop. Stop it right now. I’m picturing you doing those little hand motions for the chorus.”  

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Why did I agree to this?”  

“Because you secretly love making me laugh,” she teased, nudging his knee with her foot. “Okay, next question. What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? Please tell me it’s not sneaking a library book home after hours.”  

Wonwoo smirked, tilting his head. “First of all, that’s a perfectly respectable crime. Second, I did once skip a whole semester of lectures to follow a girl I liked to a different city.”  

Y/N’s mouth dropped open. “Wait—seriously? You followed her?”  

He shrugged, his grin turning a little sheepish. “It wasn’t as creepy as it sounds. We were kind of seeing each other, and she was moving away for an internship. I thought it was romantic at the time.”  

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.” Y/N said, laughing as she set her glass down. “What happened?”  

“She broke up with me two weeks later,” he admitted, his tone dry.  

She gasped, clutching her chest like it physically hurt. “No! That’s awful.”  

“It was definitely character building,” he said with a dramatic sigh, earning another laugh from her.  

“Okay, last one,” she said, leaning closer with a sly smile. “Do you have any current crushes? Like, hypothetically, someone who owns a charming little bookstore and drinks wine with you at two in the morning?”  

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Hypothetically? Are we talking about Evelyn?”  

Y/N smacked his shoulder lightly, her laugh bubbling over. “Oh we’re definitely talking about Evelyn. I feel like you have a thing for terribly evil women who’d be mean to you, like a kink or something.”  

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he leaned toward her slightly. “I usually do. But, I don’t know, Y/N. Shouldn’t the question be... do you have a current crush? Someone who maybe sings ‘Call Me Maybe’ like their life depends on it?”  

Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her grin. “I don’t know, Woo. That doesn’t really sound like my type.”  

“Oh, really?” he said, his tone playful. “What’s your type, then?”  

She pretended to think, tapping her chin. “Hmm... someone who doesn’t follow girls to other cities or embarrass themselves at karaoke contests.”  

“God the pain,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d wounded him. “Guess I’m out of the running.”  

She smiled, her gaze softening just a bit. “Not necessarily. You’ve got other redeeming qualities. Like pouring wine which is an important one. At least to me.”  

His grin widened, and he lifted his glass in a mock toast. “Well, I’ll take that as a win.”  

Their glasses clinked together, and as they drank, the teasing energy between them lingered, warm and electric, filling the quiet bookstore with something that felt a lot like possibility.  

Y/N grabbed the wine bottle, a mischievous glint in her eye as she refilled their glasses. Wonwoo watched her curiously, his grin still lingering from their back-and-forth.  

“Alright, my turn,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done in this bookstore when no one was around?”  

Y/N froze mid-pour, her face immediately turning red. “Oh no. Nope. No way in hell. Not telling you.”  

Wonwoo straightened, his smirk growing as he caught the look of panic on her face. “Oh, come on. You can’t not tell me after that reaction.”  

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to brush it off, waving a hand as if swatting his question away.  

“That means it’s terrible, and now I have to know,” he teased, his eyes narrowing playfully. “What did you do, Y/N? Did you accidentally set a book on fire? Did you steal candy from a kid? Spill it.”  

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh, fine! But you can’t laugh.”  

“No promises,” he said immediately, leaning forward with interest.  

She peeked out from between her fingers, sighing dramatically before finally admitting, “Okay. When I was like thirteen, I... I used to practice kissing on the spines of the books.”  

Wonwoo blinked. “What?”  

Her face turned crimson. “You heard me.”  

It took a second for it to register, but then Wonwoo doubled over laughing, his shoulders shaking as he nearly spilled his wine. “The spines? You made out with the books?”  

“I was thirteen!” she squealed, trying and failing to stop herself from laughing too. “And my friends had all kissed someone, so I panicked! I thought—‘I need to practice!’ And the books were there. Don’t judge me.”  

Wonwoo fell back against the floor, wheezing between bursts of laughter. “Oh my god—what books? Please tell me it was like an encyclopedia.”  

She shot him a glare, though she was laughing too hard to look serious. “No. It was whatever I could reach. Mostly YA romances, okay? I thought maybe the romance would transfer through the spine or something.”  

“You were out here trying to absorb love through osmosis?” he gasped, holding his stomach as he laughed.  

“Yes.” she said, her voice high-pitched from embarrassment. “I don’t know how I thought it worked.”  

Wonwoo sat up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Y/N, that’s—that’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m never going to be able to look at these books the same way again. Like how can I pick one up without wondering if your lips touched it.”  

“I hate you,” she said, burying her face in her hands again. “I should’ve taken that secret to the grave.”  

“Oh, absolutely not,” he said, grinning. “This is prime blackmail material. Just wait until you’re being all serious about the store one day, and I remind you of your spine-kissing phase.”  

She peeked up at him, her lips quaking into a smile despite herself. “You wouldn’t dare.”  

“Try me,” he said smugly, raising his wine glass like a toast. “To Y/N, the Bookstore Casanova.”  

“I’m never telling you anything ever again,” she muttered, shaking her head as she took a sip of her wine.  

“Too late. I’m already your confidant,” he teased, leaning closer with a smirk. “But for the record, I think as a teenager you were pretty resourceful. I mean, who needs practice with people when you have books?”  

“Exactly.” she said, pointing at him with mock seriousness. “See? You get it.”  

“I don’t,” he admitted, laughing again. “But it’s endlessly entertaining.”  

Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re the worst.”  

“And yet, here you are—drinking wine with me. But, tell me, do you think the kissing books hacked helped?” he shot back, his eyes twinkling.  

“I don’t know? I’ve never kissed myself? Honestly I haven’t kissed someone since my last relationship which was..” Y/n pretended to flip through her imaginary calendar. “Two years ago?” 

“Interesting no one ever confirmed it.” 

She shook her head, muttering, “Regretting this more by the second.” But her grin gave her away, and the lighthearted energy between them filled the quiet bookstore with warmth—like something rare and perfectly imperfect, just like their ridiculous conversation.  

Wonwoo’s teasing grin softened slightly as he tilted his head, watching her with a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “Two years, huh?” he said, his tone quieter now, though the playful glint in his eyes lingered.  

Y/N shrugged, trying to brush it off. “What can I say? I’ve been busy running a bookstore and, you know, kissing spines.”  

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “That’s a real tragedy, though. All that practice, and no one’s benefited from it?”  

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the heat creeping up her neck. She raised her glass to her lips again, trying to hide behind it.  

Wonwoo set his own glass down on the table beside them, leaning forward slightly. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse quicken, “I could help with that.”  

Her breath hitched, and she lowered her glass, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Help with what?”  

He shrugged one shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into that faint, irresistible smirk. “You know. Test out whether all that spine-kissing really paid off.”  

Her laugh came out more like a nervous squeak, and she immediately covered it with a cough. “You’re insufferable, Jeon Wonwoo.”  

“And yet, you’re still here,” he echoed his earlier words, his gaze holding hers now with a steady intensity that made her heart thud painfully against her ribs.  

For a moment, the world outside the bookstore seemed to vanish, leaving only the golden glow of the little lamp, the lingering scent of old paper and wine, and the space between them that suddenly felt charged.  

“You’re not serious,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“Maybe I am,” he said simply, his smirk softening into a small, almost shy smile.  

Before she could overthink it—or talk herself out of it—he leaned closer, his eyes flickering down to her lips and then back up to meet her gaze. He paused there, just inches away, waiting.  

Her breath caught, and something about the way he was so close, so patient, made her feel brave. “Wonwoo,” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you trying to be smooth?”  

“Is it working?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing, but his gaze was sincere.  

She didn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead, she closed the gap, brushing her lips against his in a tentative, featherlight kiss.  

It was gentle at first—soft and unhurried, like they were both figuring out how this was supposed to feel. But when he cupped her cheek with his hand, tilting her face slightly, the kiss deepened, and Y/N felt her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in a long time.  

When they finally pulled back, just enough to catch their breath, he was smiling, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.  

“So,” he said, his voice still low and warm, “was it worth the two-year wait?”  

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she rested her forehead against his. “I don’t know yet,” she teased. “Might need more data to be sure.”  

His grin widened, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made her stomach flip. “I think that can be arranged.”  

And in the quiet, cozy little bookstore, with books watching silently from their shelves, Y/N had the distinct feeling she’d just uncovered the most unexpected treasure of all.  

The next few days passed in a blur of wine, laughter, and quiet moments shared between Y/N and Wonwoo. The chemistry between them seemed to grow with every secret they uncovered in the bookstore, every old clue leading them deeper into the mystery of the hidden treasure. But there was something else too—a shift, a quiet understanding that their connection had changed from something purely fun and teasing to something more real, more complicated.

The bookstore had become their shared sanctuary—where clues were scattered in dusty corners, and where they spent hours combing through old journals and books in search of the final pieces of the puzzle. Every clue brought them closer to something monumental, but with each step forward, Y/N’s estranged aunt Evelyn seemed to grow bolder, more determined to shut the whole thing down.

On one particular evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the bookstore was bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, Y/N and Wonwoo found themselves in a small, cluttered storage room hidden at the back of the shop, sifting through yet another pile of old papers. The room was quiet, save for the sound of rustling pages, the occasional clink of glasses, and the low hum of conversation between them.

Y/N paused, eyes scanning a faded letter that had caught her attention. "Wait, this is it," she said, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and smoothing it on the table. "This has to be the deed."  

Wonwoo looked over her shoulder, his hand instinctively resting on her back. "Are you sure?"  

"I’m pretty sure," she muttered, tracing the yellowing edges of the paper. "It’s an old deed, but it looks like it’s in my name—well, my family's name, technically. It’s the bookstore's legal deed."  

Wonwoo leaned closer, studying the document with a frown. “This is the real thing,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “This could be the key to everything.”  

Y/N smiled, but her heart was still heavy with worry. "Yeah, but Evelyn’s not going to give up. She’s already trying to pressure me into selling. And she has a lawyer with her now. They’ve already threatened to drag me to court."  

Wonwoo straightened, his gaze sharpening. “Then we need to make sure she doesn’t get her hands on this.” He grabbed the deed and tucked it carefully into his jacket pocket.  

Y/N stared at him. "You’re not seriously thinking of hiding it, are you?"  

“Not just hiding it,” he said with a smirk. “I’m going to make sure it’s safe. If she’s going to play dirty, then so are we.”  

With that, he walked over to a small cupboard, pulling out a set of old, heavy keys. "I know a place. You trust me, right?"  

Y/N hesitated but then nodded. "I do.”  

Their hands brushed as he passed her the keys, and Y/N couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat. Wonwoo had been a constant presence since they’d started this treasure hunt, a calm and steady anchor in the chaos of relentless threats. And as much as they were both focused on the task at hand, Y/N couldn’t ignore the way their connection had deepened—the way her heart beat faster every time he was near, the way his presence made everything feel safer.  

As Wonwoo led her out of the room, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open, followed by the sharp click of heels on the hardwood floors. Evelyn’s voice rang out, cold and sharp.  

“Y/N, I know you’re here. We need to talk."  

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she exchanged a brief, tense glance with Wonwoo before they both hurried to the back, hiding the deed for the time being.  

“I’m not letting you get away with this.” Evelyn continued, her voice laced with venom. “I will take everything from you if I have to, including this bookstore. Your parents’ legacy won’t mean anything if you don’t sell to me.”  

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “Evelyn, you don’t own this store. You never will.”  

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Evelyn’s laugh was cruel, echoing through the empty aisles.  

The tension in the air thickened, and Wonwoo placed a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out, I promise,” he whispered, his voice low and steady.  

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. We’ll figure this out.”  

But in the back of her mind, she knew that Evelyn wasn’t going to stop. The woman was determined, and Y/N needed to be just as determined to protect what was hers. She wasn’t going to let the bookstore go without a fight—not when it had meant everything to her growing up.  

Later that evening, as the bookstore quieted down and Y/N sat at the small table in the back corner, sipping on a glass of wine, she looked up at Wonwoo, who had been quietly scribbling in his notebook for the past hour.  

He looked up from his writing and caught her gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m almost finished with my book, you know,” he said, his tone casual but laced with something deeper.  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, setting her glass down. “No way? About what?”  

“About a treasure hunt,” he replied, eyes glinting with mischief. “About two people who find something they didn’t expect—something more valuable than they could have imagined.”  

She grinned, leaning forward with curiosity. “And what do they find?”  

“The treasure,” he said, his voice quieter now, “isn’t what they thought it would be. It’s the connection they have with each other. The way they work together to uncover something bigger than themselves.”  

Y/N felt her heart flutter at his words, the weight of his gaze making her pulse quicken. “That’s really sweet.  

“Well,” he said, his lips curving into a teasing grin, “it’s inspired by real life, isn’t it?”  

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she glanced down at her wine glass. “I guess it is.”  

Wonwoo’s tone turned more serious, though the playful edge never quite left his voice. “I think we make a pretty good team, Y/N. And I’m not just talking about the treasure hunt.”  

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down around them. “Yeah,” she murmured, a soft smile crossing her lips. “We do, don’t we?”  

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the connection between them deepen. Everything they had uncovered—the clues, the threats, the mystery of the bookstore—had brought them to this place, to this unexpected, complicated bond that was far more precious than any treasure they might find hidden in the walls.  

And as the night grew deeper, and they prepared to face whatever Evelyn threw their way next, Y/N knew one thing for certain: no matter what happened, she wasn’t going to face it alone.

The next morning, the sun had barely risen, casting soft beams of light through the dust-covered windows of the bookstore. Y/N had barely slept the night before, her mind whirling with thoughts of Evelyn’s threats and the looming confrontation that awaited her. But she had a plan now, one that gave her a sense of clarity and strength. She wasn’t going to let her aunt take what was hers.  

With the deed securely tucked in her bag and the letter from her mother—a last message of trust and love—Y/N stood at the edge of the bookstore, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had to confront Evelyn’s lawyer head-on, to show them that she wasn’t just some helpless niece who could be pushed around. The store was hers, and now, she had the legal proof to back it up.  

It was a short walk to the lawyer’s office, but it felt like the longest journey of her life. As Y/N entered the glass-fronted building, she was greeted by a stern receptionist, who asked for her name.  

“I’m here to see Mr. Calloway,” Y/N said firmly, her voice steady despite the nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. “Tell him it’s regarding the deed for the bookstore.”  

The receptionist glanced at her curiously but nodded, picking up the phone to make the call. A few moments later, Y/N was ushered into a sleek office, the kind of place that smelled faintly of expensive cologne and old leather-bound books. Mr. Calloway, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a stern expression, stood behind his desk. He motioned for her to take a seat.  

“Ms. Y/N, I presume?” Mr. Calloway’s voice was smooth, but there was a certain edge to it. “I’m afraid you’ve come here for nothing. The property’s ownership is already in question. Your aunt is prepared to take this to court.”  

Y/N didn’t flinch. “That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice unwavering. “I have the deed to the bookstore.”  

She slid the crinkled paper across the desk, and Mr. Calloway eyed it with some skepticism. “And where did you come from?”  

“This is the deed my mother left for me,” Y/N replied, her fingers curling around the letter she’d brought with it. “And along with that, she left me the money to renovate and make this store my own. She made it clear in writing that this place was meant to be mine. I’ve spent my life here, and I’m not going to let anyone take it away from me.”  

For a moment, the lawyer was silent, his gaze flicking back and forth between the deed and Y/N’s determined face. He finally sighed, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “Well, it’s clear you have some legal standing here,” he said slowly. “I’ll need to make sure everything is in order, but I’d advise you to be prepared for further legal action. Your aunt is not someone who backs down easily.”  

“I’m not backing down either,” Y/N said, standing up and grabbing the deed from the desk. “I’ll be taking the store back, starting now.”  

Mr. Calloway looked surprised but didn’t protest. “Very well. I’ll have this taken into consideration.”  

Y/N left the office with the deed still clutched tightly in her hand, feeling a surge of relief and adrenaline. Her heart was racing, but now, she knew she had the power to protect the place she loved. The fight wasn’t over, but she had just won the first round.  

With the victory still buzzing in her chest, Y/N made her way straight to the bookstore, her thoughts already turning to the next steps. She needed to tell Wonwoo. He’d been by her side through all of this, and now that she had the deed, they could finally take the fight to Evelyn and her lawyer together.  

When she arrived at the bookstore, it was nearly empty except for a few early morning customers, browsing the shelves. The usual quiet was soothing, but Y/N couldn’t help the wide smile spreading across her face as she spotted Wonwoo, hunched over in a corner with his notebook, scribbling away.  

She couldn’t contain herself anymore. She rushed over to him, feeling lighter than she had in days. "Wonwoo!" she said, practically bursting with excitement.  

He looked up, his eyes softening as he noticed the huge grin on her face. "What’s all this about?"  

“I did it,” she said, breathless, her chest heaving as she held up the deed. “I went to Evelyn’s lawyer, and I staked my claim. I have the deed, the money my mom left me for renovations, and now—” She paused for effect. “Now, the bookstore is mine.”  

Wonwoo’s face broke into a grin so wide it almost seemed unreal. He immediately stood, his arms open as if to embrace the whole victory. “Y/N, that’s amazing!”  

Without saying another word, he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around once, before gently setting her back down. Y/N laughed, the joy bubbling up inside her in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks.  

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, stepping back and looking at him with gratitude. “You helped me every step of the way.”  

Wonwoo smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “That’s what partners do.” His tone was lighter now, teasing. “Although, I think we should celebrate this properly.”  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Oh? How do you plan to do that?”  

Wonwoo leaned in just slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well,” he said, his voice lower now, “I’m thinking of wine... and maybe even a celebratory kiss?”  

Y/N laughed again, her heart racing in her chest. "You’re lucky I like you, because you’re so corny, Jeon Wonwoo."  

“Lucky?” he repeated, leaning back, mock offense in his voice. “I’m not just lucky, I’m deserving.”  

“Alright, alright,” she said, pulling a bottle of wine from the shelf. “You’ve earned it. But just so you know, this is just the beginning. We still have a lot of work to do.”  

“I know,” he said, pouring them each a glass, “but I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”  

They clinked glasses, and for a moment, the world outside the bookstore seemed to fade away. They had won today, but they both knew that this was just the start of a much larger fight. 

As they stood there, the glasses of wine in their hands, the air between them still crackling with the energy of the moment, Wonwoo’s smile faded slightly. He took a deep breath, setting his glass down on the nearby table. There was something different in his eyes now—something deeper, something more vulnerable. Y/N noticed it immediately, her smile faltering slightly as she watched him.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice softer now, the excitement of the day momentarily giving way to a more serious tone. “You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.”

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking to the floor for a moment before meeting her eyes again. He hesitated for a second longer, as if weighing his words carefully. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he began, his voice steady but laced with an earnestness that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “And I guess now is as good a time as any.”

Y/N set her glass down too, her attention fully on him now. She could feel her pulse quicken as the tension in the room shifted, her curiosity growing.

“When I first started coming here, I didn’t expect much. I was just looking for a quiet place to escape and get away from the chaos of the world, y’know?” he continued, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he spoke, as if grounding himself. “But then, I started coming more often. And eventually, it wasn’t just the books that kept bringing me back. It was... you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but this... this wasn’t what she’d anticipated. She searched his eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. “Wonwoo, I—”

“Just let me finish,” he said, cutting her off gently, but there was a softness in his voice that she couldn’t ignore. “At first, I thought I was just drawn to this place because it was peaceful. But then I realized it was you—your passion, the way you cared about this bookstore, the way you lit up when you talked about your mom, the way you had this fire in you that I couldn’t stop noticing.” He took a small step closer, his voice growing more sincere with each word. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Y/N. Not in the way you see the world, not in the way you’ve brought me into this... this little adventure of ours.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now, her chest tight as she absorbed his words. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes, no doubt in her mind that what he was saying wasn’t just a passing thought.

“I used to think I knew what I wanted,” Wonwoo went on, his voice barely above a whisper now, “but you’ve changed that for me. This place... you... have made me see that there’s more to life than just work, than just existing. You’ve given me a reason to want more, to want... us.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hand instinctively reaching out to grasp his, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. “Wonwoo...” she whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

His thumb gently brushed over the back of her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “I do. I care about you, Y/N. More than I thought I could care about anyone. You’ve completely turned my world upside down, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the quiet in the room wrapping around them like a cocoon. Y/N could hear the steady beat of her own heart in her ears, the weight of his words settling deep within her chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispered, her voice unsteady. “This is... I didn’t expect this.”

Wonwoo smiled softly, a hint of nervousness breaking through his usual cool demeanor. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I don’t want to hide how I feel anymore.”

Y/N felt something shift inside her, the words she had been holding back finally finding their way to her lips. “Wonwoo, you’ve changed my life too. I’ve never met anyone who just, I don’t know, gets it the way you do. You make me feel like I’m not crazy for wanting this place to mean something more. You’ve made me feel seen. I care about you too, so much more than I ever expected.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, his eyes lighting up in that familiar mischievous way. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing, considering we’ve already been on a treasure hunt together.”

Y/N laughed, but it was different this time. It wasn’t just a response to his teasing—it was a laugh filled with something deeper, something more real. “You’re right,” she said, her voice more certain now. “I guess it is.”

Wonwoo stepped closer, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining. “So, what do you say? Want to keep going on this treasure hunt—with me?”

As Y/N held Wonwoo’s hand, her heart raced with a mixture of excitement and a little bit of disbelief. She hadn’t expected any of this—the bookstore, the adventure, and most certainly not the way he was looking at her right now, like he’d just found the last piece of the puzzle he didn’t even know he was searching for.

“You really know how to throw someone off balance, Jeon,” she teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I thought we were just celebrating the deed and now you’re confessing your feelings. Seriously, could you not make it so dramatic?”

He chuckled, leaning closer, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for drama.” 

She rolled her eyes, but her smile never left. “Well, I’ll give you this—you’re a much better treasure than I ever thought you’d be.”

“Aw, look at that,” Wonwoo teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m your treasure now?”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “I guess. I mean, who else would tolerate my crazyness?” she said with a wink.

His response was to step even closer, giving her a sly grin. “Someone who’d do anything to stick around,” he said softly, before dipping his head and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She grinned up at him, her heart light. “That’s just fine by me.”

The days that followed felt like a whirlwind of excitement and resolution. With the deed officially in her hands, Y/N returned to the bookstore, determined to move forward. Evelyn’s lawyer had called to warn her that her aunt wouldn’t give up easily, but once the truth came out—that her mother had left the store specifically for Y/N to own, with funds to renovate and keep it alive—there was nothing Evelyn could do. She tried to fight, of course, but without any legal grounds or the right to contest the inheritance, it was a battle she couldn’t win.

Y/N’s lawyer had done the heavy lifting, and with everything in order, Evelyn was forced to concede defeat. The store officially belonged to Y/N—her mother’s legacy was hers to continue. But Y/N made one last effort to seal the deal. She sent Evelyn a letter, with a cheeky twist of her own: “Thanks for the help, but I think I’ve got it from here.”

It was a small victory, but it felt sweet, and Y/N couldn’t stop grinning as she turned back to the shelves, breathing in the familiar scent of old pages and dust. The Nook was officially hers.

The real fun began after that.

Weeks later, the bookstore was buzzing with activity—not from the usual morning crowd, but something much more exciting. Y/N had spent countless hours refurbishing the place, brightening the atmosphere with new coats of paint, adding cozy reading nooks, and ensuring every corner reflected her personality. But there was one thing she couldn’t do without him. Wonwoo had been her right-hand man through every part of it, turning the back office into a cozy writers’ retreat and organizing all of the books so that they not only looked great but also told a story of their own.

And now, the biggest thing was happening: the bookstore was hosting Wonwoo’s book signing. He’d completed his manuscript, inspired by all their adventures, their treasure hunts, and the mysterious secrets of The Nook. His book was a hit, and now, with the launch underway, Y/N was standing beside him in the middle of their bookstore—the place that had started it all.

She caught sight of him as he set up for the signing, adjusting the small display table with the first copies of his book. His smile was wide, and he looked so comfortable in his own skin now—more at home than she’d ever seen him before. He caught her eye, and for a moment, everything else faded away. 

“You did it,” she said, walking up to him with a grin. “You’re officially a second time sexy best selling author.”

He grinned back, his eyes twinkling. “And I couldn’t have done it without a treasure hunt partner like you. Where would I be without my muse?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, yeah. Just sign my copy, won’t you?”

He laughed, taking the book from her hands and scribbling a dedication. “To Y/N, the true treasure of The Nook.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar warmth spread across her chest. “You’re really laying it on thick now.”

“I’m just being honest,” he teased, handing her the signed copy. “You changed my life, remember?”

Before Y/N could reply, the first customer walked in—an eager reader looking for a signed copy of his book. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of introductions, book signings, and laughter, the bookstore alive with the kind of energy Y/N had only dreamed of before.

As the event wound down, with the last few customers having left, Wonwoo and Y/N were left standing behind the counter, both a little tired but still glowing from the success.

“So,” Wonwoo said, his voice low as he leaned on the counter next to her, “what do we do now?”

Y/N looked around, taking in the bustling bookstore, the little crowd of people chatting about his book, the laughter, and the life in the space. She felt a contented sigh escape her lips.

“We keep going,” she said with a grin, her eyes meeting his. “We keep making this place even more ours.”

Wonwoo leaned in, his face softening. “And how do we do that?”

Y/N leaned back against the counter, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “We keep finding treasures, Together.”

The following months were filled with more than just book signings. With the store officially thriving under their shared ownership, Y/N and Wonwoo were building a life together, discovering new mysteries, laughing over silly inside jokes, and creating their own stories within the walls of The Nook. Whether it was fixing up a new corner for readers, writing new books, or simply sitting together and reminiscing about their treasure hunt, they had found something real—something both fun and serious in its own way.

As for Evelyn, she had finally backed off, realizing she had no place left in Y/N’s world. Y/N had reclaimed her space—not just in the bookstore, but in her life. And with Wonwoo by her side, they were ready for whatever came next.

And so, The Nook became more than just a bookstore—it became their home, their story, and their future.

[jesncin]

A Queer and Asian review of Xanthe Zhou + Spirit World

I haven't exactly been thorough about how I specifically feel about Xanthe Zhou as "representation" for people like me and a part of me didn't want to be too harsh since they're a fan favorite and I'm sure the writer did their best and what not- but there is this sense of "I'm not even whelmed I'm underwhelmed" by Xanthe as a character. I don't dislike them, but I can't say I'm a fan if I don't find them particularly interesting.

I'm sure for a lot of people the idea of a Chinese non-binary anime sword wielding, bomber jacket wearing, shaved cut having, envoy between the living and spirit world character is a novel concept. But when you've lived the reality this character attempts to represent (ghosts and spirits are a tuesday where I'm from) and have sought out that representation from within your own communities, Xanthe pales in comparison like a really corporate product. So I want to talk about intersectional storytelling and what a holistic queer Asian superhero could look like.

Again I'm aware Spirit World was written by a queer Chinese author (+ an all Chinese team) and as a fellow author who has to navigate mainstream publishing and deal with attempts at sandpapering authenticity for capitalism I want to stress that I Get The Struggle. But I'm allowed to be critical of how the final product turned out. Some of this is subjective musing even.

Here's the premise of Xanthe Zhou's character: When Xanthe was a very tiny kid, they were run over by a car when they were walking alone at night in the rain. They're resurrected by a powerful spirit called Po Po to be the half-dead, half-living Envoy of the Spirit World.

Everything about Xanthe is exhaustively corporate for me. Like industry planted representation designed to be as safe as possible and attempts at being intersectional are limited. Spirit World features Cassandra Cain Batgirl and John Constantine Hellblazer because that's how we get Asian and queer DC fans to hop onto out new queer Asian character! Xanthe doesn't get to stand out in their own world, or have an established cast system the way Kong Kenan gets to. Spirit World suffers from being a follow up to an Event comic, with all these characters crossing over- but it didn't rise to the challenge of including Batgirl and Johnstantine in meaningful ways. The story would've been better if they were replaced by characters unique to Xanthe's cast system.

I've become pretty cynical about scenes like this one. It's a scene where Xanthe is forcefully invited to have dinner with their family they haven't seen in years. The transphobic dinner pages made rounds on social media because "ooh look at John Constantine gendering a non-binary person correctly even when Xanthe's family keeps misgendering them", and "whoa even the magic system respects a trans person's name". It's free marketing, you can see comments on these posts asking what comic this is from to read more. People will start discourse over "Constantine going woke" and the defenders will pull up receipts that "John has always been a lefitst" and so on and so forth. I saw the promos for Spirit World, but these panels were what piqued my interest early on.

My twin and I were taking turns reading Spirit World- Jes asked Cin (who finished reading first) "so what about that transphobic dinner scene? Was it there? Are there other scenes that talk about it?" and Cin said "nope that's it. The rest is magic fight scenes and spirit world stuff." And honestly that feels calculated. It's like that Jenny Nicholson Star Wars Hotel thing: "whoa if they have this droid and this animatronic alien performer, imagine what else they have!" but nope. That's it. Just enough to fit in a tik tok promo. Just enough to fit in a tweet and make rounds. It's not like Alan Scott's Green Lantern solo, where his queer identity isn't limited to one scene designed to go viral. The whole narrative holistically discussed what it was like to be a gay man in that era. Spirit World on the other hand felt like it had a representation quota to fulfill before moving on to the generic Superhero Stuff- an entirely separate plot.

Then there's Xanthe and John. As a Hellblazer purist I already knew this was going to be a hard read for me since I'm not a fan of DC!Constantine but I've talked before about how Spirit World still has that appeal for me because sometimes og Hellblazer is a pain to read as a person of color. Maybe I can enjoy the fantasy of Constantine being an ally to an Asian person instead of fetishizing them like he did in those old Vertigo comics (people love to leave that out when they're defending Constantine as an ally but whatever). And people kept talking about how this is an elder and younger queer friendship dynamic and I love those.

So where was that? Sure, John genders Xanthe correctly over transphobic dinner and comforts them afterwards. But nothing he says or does is specific to a queer elder. Any ally or character can say these things or do these gestures. He doesn't speak from personal experience about how "it gets better" or "I know what it's like" it's just. "yeah throwing up in Gotham is great I do it all the time". Excuse me if I don't think that's substantial.

Ooh but the ghost of Johnstantine's ex boyfriend Oliver showed up! And then there was a bi joke about how John hooks up with a clone of himself a "dozen times" because he's such a slut amirite, gays. Diversity win. I expected bi jokes from DC!Constantine but marketing this as a queer narrative or generational friendship is a stretch.

Spirit World would've been a more holistic queer narrative if Wan Yujing, the villainous corrupted spirit that wanted to be remembered properly (or reincarnated, depends on the writer's mood)-was revealed to be a queer person. This would've been a fantastic opportunity to recontextualize Xanthe's personal transphobic encounter with their family into a larger systemic theme of queer historical erasure. The original meaning of a "dead name" is the idea that when a trans person dies, their family will put the wrong name on their grave. It's literally their "dead" name, erasing their legacy in writing. So why not include that in your conflict?

Wan Yujing is revealed to be a famous poet, slowly forgotten because "time erodes everything" (vague and bad writing btw). Why not pitch something more motivated and specific? Make it so that she wrote queer literature that was destroyed. Make it so that her lover was rewritten in history books as her "friend". Then when Xanthe makes the promise to remember Wan Yujing as she truly was, it'd be a holistic act of queer recognition and solidarity. But instead the resolution is just Xanthe Zhou promising "hey I'll remember you" and Wan Yujing just takes their word for it.

Can we talk about the huge missed opportunity of what this dialogue implies? Xanthe proclaims that they are both living and dead, granted the living's power to remember and the dead's immortality. Why was this not thematically paired with their experience as a non-binary person struggling in a cis-heteronormative world. Heck, why not pair this with how they're a queer Asian American, a perpetual foreigner wherever they go? Not Asian enough for traditional spaces, but not white enough for a majority of queer American spaces. Are we worried we'll scare off the white audience if this got too intersectional?

Xanthe gets more fleshed out under a different writer (Jeremy Holt) for one of the DC Pride stories (2023). Here, Xanthe talks about how being in the land of the living feels like going about a routinic obligation; "Reminding me that home isn't necessarily where the heart is". This is so much like the disassociated way trans people go about life before figuring themselves out. It's also like how a perpetual foreigner doesn't fit in anywhere. But it's not paralleled to that experience. The fantasy aspects of Xanthe Zhou the Envoy, are completely separate from the very few personal civilian parts of them. Like they're a Superhero first and a person second. The later half of this story gets overtaken by a team up with Batwoman, because once you have a new character set in Gotham you are at the whims of being absorbed into the greater Batfam conglomerate.

There's interesting concepts at the center of Xanthe's character. But it's hard to give credit to writing that doesn't follow any of that through. Xanthe's a hero motivated by making sure the dead are remembered and respected. That's a decent motivation in general, and a pretty resonant one for a queer hero-but everything surrounding the execution of that idea feels so half-assed to me. Xanthe's origin story has so many plot holes, it feels like it was thought up in 5 minutes.

Why was their death just some random car accident and not something more motivated? Why did the all powerful Po Po decide to resurrect them specifically? Where's the tension in any of the many excessive fight scenes in Spirit World, if Xanthe's apparently immortal? Also they age? What are the stakes for a character like this? This isn't even covering the shoddy writing for their transphobic family drama (Why did they just stalk their family after being resurrected? Why did their mom recognize them even though they've been gone and have aged for 15 years? so many questions ugh).

(why was this toddler walking around alone in the rain with their own umbrella. In Gotham. What is this-)

I casually propose that instead have Xanthe's origin be that they died as a runaway trans teen who went missing and was murdered. Maybe because the way police and society in general don't look into the disappearances of trans poc, Xanthe's death went completely unnoticed. Maybe as Xanthe's dying, Po Po sees their determination to fight for the forgotten and chooses to resurrect this kid specifically. Then we'd have a really motivated origin story that ties their identity to their heroism. Instead we get these over the top fantasy concepts + transphobic dinner with my talisman wielding mom.

Spirit World is a fun enough action fantasy with troubled pacing and generic MCU-quippy dialogue. It's so overwhelmed by it's own spectacle that we don't get a chance to get to know our new hero. What is Xanthe's character development? What flaw do they grow out of or overcome? If I'm honest outside of the attempt at quippy banter, what even is their personality? The ending is rushed; not only is the conflict resolved with Xanthe just promising to remember a dead poet, but they also make a deal to work with the Spirit World authorities. Because it's always so fun to watch queer people assimilate to the powers that oppress.

In one of these action sequences, I guess the writer decided there needed to be a semblance of themes to make it feel like the readers' time isn't being wasted. So while Cassandra Cain Batgirl from Detective Comics and John Constantine from Vertigo Hellblazer are holding the giant anime sword, Xanthe goes on an internal monologue about how change is natural and people's fears make them resistant towards it. Xanthe says that to embrace magic, "you need to look at everything you think you know about the way the world should be...and imagine something new."

It's a nice sentiment that isn't reinforced by anything else in the story, but it does make me think. What is "new" about Xanthe Zhou to someone like me who seeks out representation like this? I've seen queer characters with the shaved hairstyle, I've seen queer coded Asian girlies with the bomber jacket, heck I've even seen the giant anime sword. I kinda cringe at seeing "giant spiritual sword" at this point even. But you know what I don't see as often? In real life I've seen the bravest Asian queer people reclaim cultural hairstyles, clothing, practices and beliefs (that originally excluded them). I've seen them join communities and create entire subcultures and lingo in a way that would be unrecognizable to the typical queer readers who enjoy Hellblazer-but I certainly don't see it reflected in fiction a lot.

(Is it really new if I've seen it in a Disney movie)

The premise of a Chinese American non-binary half-dead-half-living Envoy for the dead is something so metaphysical in its intersectionality, world building, stakes and themes that it would require Sandman-levels of out-the-box creativity to pull off. Which is why getting a generic action adventure (+ one scene about transphobic dinner with the family) feels so disappointing. I wish Spirit World took its own words to heart; I wish it took everything we're used to, everything we've known about how the world is and dare to imagine something actually new.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Wicked the movie thoughts - spoiler version

I went to see Wicked today! If you want to read a spoiler free edition of what I thought you can do that here but otherwise below the cut I am going to talk in a lot of detail about the show and share my thoughts - they're overwhelmingly positive!! I loved this movie, I love this musical, and I have a lot of thoughts to discuss, I'm welcoming conversations about things I say or about stuff I didn't say but that you want to talk about let's absolutely chat, and this is all the way through going to contain spoilers for the plot but also for specific details, scenes, acting, etc, of the new movie so be warned if you don't want to read that

First of all, the genuine love and care that was put into the show and that can be seen not only in the acting but in the set, the music, in every aspect the care and the adoration for the theatre production was so clear, it was so lovingly crafted from the word go. I also felt like not only Wicked the musical but also Oz, in the original Wizard of Oz novel, in the Wicked novel, in the world and in everything that Gregory Maguire brought to the world, and so on and so forth was being treated with such care and being genuinely revered whilst also balancing well enough that I didn't feel like I was only ever seeing rehashes of existing material or a carbon copy of the past

Even as I was watching and thinking this, and thinking how well they had captured the feeling of watching something on stage, I was still wondering how they were possibly going to execute the Emerald City and the One Short Day performance because it's so iconic and so distinct in the musical but genuinely I was so impressed with the success of that scene. It both captured the essence of One Short Day on stage and added something new to it without taking anything away from the original and they deserve so much praise for that. I'm going to talk a little bit about the nail salon scene later when I discuss propaganda in Wicked (this is gonna be a looooooong post y'all buckle up) but other than that for One Short Day I just need to address, because how could I not, IDINA MENZEL AND KRISTEN CHENOWORTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't know they were going to be there!!!!!!!!!! I was losing my goddamn mind you guys omg

I was genuinely astonished. Like I'd seen them doing press and stuff but I assumed that was just because their names are so synonymous with Wicked I didn't realise they were actually going to be there!!

I really enjoyed the small stage production about the Wise Ones and the Grimmerie it was brilliant in concept and execution for worldbuilding and lore but KRISTEN AND IDINA OMG wonderful oh my gosh. Now was it on the nose? Absolutely. But I don't think that it felt forced, I thought that if you didn't know who they were then even when Chenoworth was singing to Grande and Menzel was singing to Eviro then it still wouldn't have felt strange or out of place, but of course I'm looking at it through the lens of a fan receiving fan service so generally speaking even though I know it's fanservice I'm still going to enjoy it and it's possible that through another's eyes it would feel different. I thought it was brilliant though and nothing will take that away from me

I think it's fair to say that the pacing of Wicked is kind of messed up and I have heard concern that because of that the act 2 movie will struggle; pacing of act 2 does get messy, but I cannot fault them in any way for splitting it into two movies ok because this was spectacular and I would not want to cut a single thing from it so yeah that's kind of all my thoughts on that point; I think that even if act 2 is harder to bring to screen that it can still be done in a high quality and successful way and especially after watching part 1 today I absolutely trust that this production can do that

I'm gonna now hop right back to No-One Mourns the Wicked (the pacing of this post is gonna be worse than the pacing of wicked). I was slightly concerned that Ariana Grande's intense recognisable-ness was going to take something away from the show because it would be hard to see the character she was playing rather than just Ariana Grande singing, if that makes sense, but from as early as No-One Mourns the Wicked my concerns were alleviated. Glinda is not an easy character to play, in my opinion, and she's not an easy character to play because she acts incredibly melodramatic in everything she does whilst her genuine emotions are incredibly subtle. What I saw in both Grande and Erivo was how fantastic their micro-expressions are and how much they can tell the audience with one or two features, often the eyes, alone. In No-One Mourns the Wicked , Galinda genuinely believes and will presumably continue to believe for the rest of her life that Elphaba is dead. And throughout her performance of the song, I more than once found it visibly notable that Glinda was on the verge of tears. She was smiling, she was singing, she was moving gracefully with her typical accentuated and dramatic movements, but the pain in her eyes was remarkable. This was a woman who believed that the only person she had ever had a genuine emotional connection with was dead, a woman who had lost not only someone she had manufactured a relationship with (Fiyero) and convinced herself that she was happy with what she knew was a false pretence of love to receive from, but also the only person in the world who had ever shown her real love and was finally being confronted by the fullest extent of the choices she had made but having to keep everything light and cheerful because of those very choices. Did that make sense? I hope I'm not just spouting nonsense. One of the most emphasised moments of this for me was when this massive effigy of Elphaba and one of the munchkinland residents hands Glinda the torch to light it; there's this blink and you miss it moment where Glinda looks at the torch, at the effigy, then back to the man who held it out to her, who's watching her expectantly, before she turns and tosses it on with a sense of urgency. Not only is this alone powerful, but I also think it's powerful that she throws the torch instead of standing at the effigy and taking care to set it alight firstly because she may not be able to bring herself to do so but also in a way that may be reflective of their relationship and the story: Glinda does not outrightly attack or harm Elphaba but she makes the choices that she makes, she throws her torch and whatever burns will burn.

I also felt that she captured the comedic elements of Glinda fantastically, with one of my favourite moments being when she melodramatically collapses kneeling in front of the bed as though she is sobbing into the quilt but just sits there perfectly still and the camera just stares at her for a few moments before she peeks up over her shoulder to see if Elphie's looking. The difference we can see between these two sides of Glinda's character was very well executed and I think we also see something of her more vulnerable side in some of these comedic moments, because ultimately she does (I'm going to talk about this later) feel unloved because of how shallow all of her relationships are and even in melodramatic, foolish or naive moments like the throwing herself on the duvet cover she is actively seeking attention because she equates attention to love - she so desperately claws her way to attention and popularity because she feels unloved and she thinks that this is love, so when it doesn't give her the feeling she was searching for she becomes convinced that it was because she doesn't have enough of it yet and she needs more. I thought that she was incredibly well captured and presented from all angles with her very many layers being well laid out.

Again with the insane jumping around but let's just dive headfirst into a couple of little details that I noticed whilst I'm thinking about them - during the Wizard and I when Elphaba is imagining her success and her dream she runs through a cornfield!! As though she is running towards Fiyero!!! I loved it. Like it's so tiny, but I love it. Another tiny one - loved the silver shoes for Nessa as a hark to the original book wherein the magic slippers were silver, but then in Popular when Glinda is going through her wardrobe and pulling out all these different options she gives Elphaba a pair of ruby red slippers and then decides against them and throws them away again!! Loved it as a teeny little reference. I also really lovedddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd and this one is more meaningful to the story but when Elphie has her magic outburst at Shiz right at the start where she sends Nessa into the air and stuff gets thrown everywhere, there's a statue on the wall of the Wizard that gets smashed. When it smashes, it's briefly visible that beneath the statue the wall was originally painted with a mural of animal scholars!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVED this detail, I was BUZZING. Like you saw it long enough to see what it was, there were three animals with a bear in the middle and I think the bear was wearing maroon robes and they were all clearly scholars

My personal theories on this is that either they were highly valued intellectual alumni of Shiz or that they founded the school, however there mya be lore standing on them that I am unaware of I started reading the book a long time ago and never finished it (I really want to read it but I haven't got around to it yet. I read enough to know what happened to Dr Dillimond in the book but I don't remember a lot after that)

Speaking of Dr Dillimond, I'm not sure if I just missed a detail or something implicit but I wasn't sure that they gave any real explanation as to why the poppies didn't knock Fiyero out????

On Fiyero: Johnathon Bailey understands Fiyero so well and it was brilliant. His performance very much took in the different layers of the character and the split between what he presents to the world and the intensity of the emotions he hides. Fiyero experiences emotion so intensely and feels such an intense response to others' emotions as well, and I think that you could really tell that whilst not feeling like anything was being taken away from the charismatic charming persona that you knew he was putting on. One of my favourite moments between him and Elphaba in this was when she siad something along the lines of 'you aren't as shallow and self-loving as I thought' and he replies something along the lines of 'how dare you? I genuinely love myself and I am deeply shallow' and I love this not only because his humour is enjoyable and his defence mechanisms are interesting but also because she immediately breaks through and says no, you're unhappy.

I promised thoughts on Dancing Through Life so whilst we're on Fiyero -> I don't at all intend to say that Bailey isn't a good singer because he is, I just thought that to some degree his voice didn't stand out from the chorus' voices in the same way that Erivo's and Grande's do and so the song did necessarily have the same bite to it as some of the others did/ That isn't to say that it wasn't a fantastic scene, because it was, and I loved the choreography and I was obsessed with the spinning bookshelves and all of it, the bringing the beat of the song in through the movement of the books was brilliant, and again he is a good singer and I think that having the actor's own voice in the movie is almost always the right decision

Okay I am going to make a post on its own about this as well because this is really long and I am so deeply obsessed with this I want to give it a chance to get proper discussion but one of my favourite propaganda-related details of this movie was Elphaba's nails. Yes, you read that right. Her nails.

In all of the imagery and posters of the 'Wicked Witch of the West' she is very often leaning forwards with her hands strangely position in the foreground and then her face behind them so your focus is drawn very quickly to the hands. In these images, her nails are always presented as extravagantly long, sharp, and claw-like. So in a world where animals are discriminated against and being used as the common enemy long before Elphaba is used as that enemy it's so fascinating that the dehumanisation of Elphaba has emphasis on her hands appearing strange or 'unnatural' and it makes me think of the line in Something Bad 'It's enough to give pause to anyone with paws' because that's where the emphasis on this distinction lies with no-one but humans having limbs that resemble hands - having Elphaba presented effectively as though she has claws in a world where animals are discriminated against and actively silenced, especially since she advocated against that silencing. And something I really enjoyed after having noticed the long nails in the posters during No-One Mourns the Wicked is that throughout the movie Elphaba has unapologetically long, beautiful nails that in a truly wonderful subtle aspect of Erivo's acting we get the sense she cares about even though they are never discussed. When she and Glinda go to the Emerald City we see this montage of their day during One Short Day and one of the things they do is go to a nail salon and we see Elphaba excitedly showing off to Glinda her long pretty nails that she loves so much and that make her feel pretty. Again this is such a massive testament to Erivo's acting skills because there's no dialogue about it but we know that she is so excited and we know that this is one of very few times that Elphie has felt pretty, she loves her nails. And they get used so horrifyingly against her. The nail salon is such a brief, subtle moment but it's so very well executed. There's also an earlier scene where she's alone with Madame Morrible practicing magic and when she reaches out to make the hand movements the camera cuts to show the shadow of her hand and it creates this emphasis on the length of her nails and how because of the shape of her hand midway through the movement the image looks like a claw or like a very stereotypical evil witch hands sort of thing. I also think that this moment is particularly powerful bc she's alone with Morrible and everything that Elphie does under Morrible's instruction is perfectly natural but what is seen on Morrible's stationary on the desk below her is representative of the propaganda that Morrible will turn the actions that she forced Elphaba to do into.

Also more propaganda stuff I could talk about the use of the word 'witch' for all goddamn eternity so I'm not going to hark on about it now but I will say that a piece of media like this one cannot be created today without acknowledgemnt of the difference between the word 'wtich' and the word 'wizard' and how they are presented, and I think that this was really interestingly handled in the word 'witch' not being said in the prequel aspect of it until Morrible labels her 'this Wicked Witch'.

Okay I think this is going to be what I finish off with but if you know this account you know that I LOVE a parallel and I was obsessed with the parallel drawn between family dynamics in Elphie's relationship with Nessa and her father, and then with the family that she's looking for and briefly thinks she could find with Morrible, the wizard, and Glinda. Yeoh said in an interview that Morrible's betrayal is realising that the mother figure isn't who you thought she was. Madame Morrible becomes Elphaba's maternal figure, and to her living memory realistically her only maternal figure, from very early on and this maternal view of her that we have through Elphaba's eyes is very much existent by the time we reach Sentimental Man, wherein the idea of the Wizard being able to offer her some kind of paternal love, that she has never felt because her relationship with her father is so fraught, is brought forth. Sentimental Man was very well performed in my opinion, it was the right decision to keep it low and subtle and close because it created this very specific closeness between Elphie and the Wizard and we felt what she felt, which was the exact manipulation that the Wizard wanted her to feel. When Madame Morrible enters the scene we then have both of these parental-style figures present telling Elphaba how precious she is, how amazing she is, how much they believe in her - essentially all these different things that she has been denied her entire life. What I find particularly fascinating about this is that what gets created here is exactly Elphaba's existing family dynamic - because Glinda is there too. This is what Elphaba always wanted - a motherly figure, a fatherly figure, and a sisterly figure - but it still comes at the expense of the sister. Glinda is being actively diminished and put down whilst Elphaba is raised and complimented for the purpose of manipulation and to be used for their purposes rather than existing for herself, just as her father diminishes and hurts her whilst complimenting and idolising Nessa but also manipulating her & never allowing her to live her own life. There's a moment where they're all stood around the grimmerie to get the four of them in shot with Elphie looking over the book, Morrible encouragingly at her side, the Wizard watching on from behind, and Glinda leaning over Elphie's other side to try and squeeze herself into the picture and I think that this still alone captures the entire thing so very well.

In a way, this is why Glinda turned round - without Elphie there, she gets love. When Elphaba had parental figures over her and no Nessa present to be better than her, she felt loved; when Glinda has parental figures over her and no Elphaba present to be better than her, she feels loved. The fundamental difference between them in the moment of choice is arguably that Elphaba's love for others, primarily Nessa, will always be stronger than her need for love from others, whereas Glinda's need for love from others will always be stronger than her love for others, primarily Elphaba.

In this moment, Glinda's warped distinction between love and popularity, as I discussed it earlier, is finally put to direct test and even though she loves Elphie and is loved by her in a way that she has arguably never been loved (we saw just how shallow her relationship with her parents was upon the arrival at Shiz. It's as shallow as her friendships at Shiz and romance with Fiyero.) she chooses popularity because she has somehow convinced herself that superficial love from many is better than genuine love from few. Elphaba's love for Glinda is probably the most genuine affection she's experienced in her entire life - but it doesn't come from authority. Elphaba's love isn't coming from someone who can raise Glina up or give her advantages and ultimately she is always seeking the approval of authority, possibly because she felt like she never received it from the authority that was her parents when she was a child, and she finds that feeling in Morrible and the Wizard, and arguably in the power that Fiyero's family could give her as well.

Okay super quick additions that i just remembered:

I loved loved loved the addition of her falling from the palace and seeing young Elphaba in the reflection and once again so freaking much could be said about the strength of Erivo's acting here it was truly beautiful and I found it like genuinely nerve-wracking even though I knew she obvs had to make it and the song wasn't over yk but yeah it was fantastic

When Elphaba's running from the soldiers & the flying monkeys just after the monkeys have been told to attack her and Glinda is chasing after her. They go through a narrow corridor of the palace lined by windows, and the wall are made of green brick. The sunset beyond casts pink light through every window. Every window is pink, all the walls are green. Elphaba is running and Glinda is following, trying to tell her to come back to the Wizard. As they run the flying monkeys start smashing the windows, so for every pace that they take THE PINK SHATTERS AND ONLY THE GREEN IS LEFT BEHIND. They are running towards Defying Gravity and for every step closer to it they become the less intertwined the colours are. The pink shatters and the green is left behind. It was visual poetry.

Okay I hope that this insane rambling made sense, I was partially transcribing this from voicenotes I sent to my friends when I got back after the movie and they actually got more than this so apologies to them and thank you for indulging me, and thank you to anyone who has bothered to read this lol I hope it was interesting - overall, excellent movie and I loved it!! Already can't wait for part 2

[btskitty17]

Object of Curiosity (Park Jimin X Fem! Reader One-Shot)

Please Read: Park Jimin BTS one shot, flirty dance teacher Jimin, shy and slightly awkward fem! character (insert any name of your choice in the blanks), smutty conclusion (oral, fem! receiving), mutual crush, sensual tension and yearning, strangers-to-friends-to-fling-to-relationship word count: 4.4k

"No amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now."

Park Jimin is so charming that it is almost obscene.

The silver-hued tassels of a pair of long earrings twinkled on his shoulder as he swerved from side to side in front of the mirror with his eyes narrowed in concentration. Both the men and women in the studio watched, enraptured by his lithe movements.

Park Jimin’s Contemporary Dance Class started off in a somewhat shabby basement as a no-name establishment, however, it had grown into a formidable performing arts institution over the course of five years, certainly in a league of its own and it seemed to embrace and attract people from all walks of life.

Jimin’s rhythmic dance videos had become an internet sensation, broadcasting his delicate yet masterful moves to the world. In the practice videos, he seemed hypnotic, kneeling on an oakwood dance platform, performing the floor-work part of the routine or showcasing his command over body-rolls as a slew of layered necklaces clattered atop his collarbones.

On the subway back home, as ___ mindlessly scrolled through her explore feed, a reel, posted by a local dance academy, caught her attention, bringing her doom-scrolling to an abrupt halt. She did not want to lose the video in a sea of algorithm-pushed content so she saved it before watching it. And she watched it again. And yet again. The raven-haired man in the video, had her wrapped around his bejewelled finger, all in sixty seconds as she stopped herself from hitting replay yet again and explored the page that had posted the video, brimming with the novel temptation of more unwatched videos of that man’s graceful swaying: from stage performances to practice routines, these videos were watched late into the night as ___ pored over her laptop for a better, more focused view, especially that of his elusive abs. Park Jimin was his name.

___ decided to channel her obsession with Jimin into a hobby. Her nightly routine of binging Jimin’s dance videos could be more than just her eyeing him while munching on spicy potato crisps, spilling crumbs on the couch’s armrest. She ended up signing up for the weekend classes, the ones for lesser technical dancers, a euphemism for those amateurs who could not possibly fathom the mid-air flips that Jimin and his disciples perform with ease.

___ had been feeling a sense of mundanity, stemming from her quotidian routine of working at her job and then coming home to a soupy bowl of ramyeon, slurped alongside a loud sitcom blaring on the television, which is the sound that she fell asleep to on most nights; she goes on to perform the very same activities the next day, with a mind-numbingly boring accuracy. Perhaps a dance class could help her feel a spark.  And the prospect of a handsome teacher certainly does strengthen her case: someone that she now had a full-blown crush on, albeit she had only met him virtually.

On an Autumn Saturday, the evening batch of dance students, comprising of about fifty individuals, a relatively smaller group from the other ones learning ballet and hip-hop, gathered before the majestic Park Jimin. So did Y/N.

“Fledglings!”  Jimin clasped his hands together. “I understand that you are all just starting out! We shall begin by doing some stretches and jumping jacks to loosen up,” his feather-light voice splashed across the dance studio, like an oncoming oceanic wave as he looked at each and every participant of the class, attempting to register their unfamiliar faces. ___ felt that Jimin’s eyes sauntered their way over and across her body for a suspiciously long amount of time. Or she could have been mistaken. The curve of Jimin’s plush lips seemed to carry a bit of interest and inquisitiveness.

Clad in her black tank-top, ___ attempted to stretch as decently as she could while the hem of her barely-there clothing started to inch upwards her waistline, unveiling a smidgen of skin. Jimin surveyed the room, comically scolding anyone whose stretching was not fulfilling his standards. Y/N felt his warm presence situating itself behind herself as she continued her exercise.

“The bouncing, the shaking,” Jimin clicked his tongue, “this is not the apt time and place for that.”

___ was suddenly conscious of her body in the impossibly smallest of ways, the slightest sheen of sweat on her forearms, the way the strands of her unruly hair were scattered across her forehead and the unintentional quivering of her limbs, caused by her erratic, almost non-existent workout schedule. If only she had been more regular! She halted her stretching and sheepishly peered over shoulder at Jimin.

___ could feel her mouth dampen from the slightest eye contact with him. Jimin wore a playful half-smile, and he moved forward to place a hand on the small of her back to guide her movements, with his eyes showcasing amusement. ___ nearly shuddered at his touch: the cold metal of his ring was seeping through the waify fabric of her top. Jimin’s nimble fingers deftly clasped her wrists, now taking charge of her workout and, her sanity, too.

“You are too stiff. You need to gradually ease into it,” Jimin whispered into her ear, aligning his chest with her back, assisting her in stretching. Was a dance teacher supposed to be this touchy? Jimin’s breathing seemed surprisingly irregular, especially for someone who is a dancer and very much in control of these tendencies during performances; she could hear the hitches in his breath and the gasps that he was swallowing as her head was synced with his chest, while stretching upwards.  ___ felt as if the warmup section of the class would exhaust all of her energy. It wasn’t the workout that was draining her: it was the red-hot proximity of Park Jimin that made her feel like she was under a constant gaze of burning scrutiny. Jimin’s subtle woody cologne swirled throughout her senses, creating an odd sensation of intoxication. All because the man was helping her stretch.

“Do you think you could reach the climax part on your own, or do you need me to hold your hand through this,” Jimin asked in a sing-song teasing voice, setting ___’s cheeks on fire.

Jimin’s memory pulsed with the close-ups of ____’s curves; since the moment she had stepped foot into his dance class, he had been …distracted to say the least.  He did not want to be inappropriate by any means, he had of course maintained decorum, however, what he had developed was a symptom of an instant crush. ___’s deer-alert eyes as she attempted to follow along his dance-steps nearly pierced his heart because of how adorable they made her seem: she was a strange mixture of charm and clumsiness. Her nonchalant walk somehow captured his attention; she possessed an unmistakable air of purity and had the sort of unassuming beauty that Jimin deems to be as the archetype of the kind of woman he finds attractive.

As several weekends went by, Jimin found himself peculiarly obsessed with ___ and he started looking forward to the Saturday and Sunday classes, nearly waiting by the door like an expectant pet and being both relieved and exhilarated to see that she had not dropped out of his institute, despite the monstrosity that her dancing was. But that was his job, he was supposed to teach her to relax and to stop her body from being so hardened. If only he could stop being hard in places he shouldn’t be when he sees her. Sometimes it was her floral scent, sometimes it was her wide-eyed stare, her evident nervousness or her giggles at her own silliness: Jimin could not afford to peel his eyes off her.

Electric, it felt. Jimin sensed tiny eruptions throughout his veins if their hands grazed each other while dancing or when the ice broke between them and they conversed about the weather and politics, gradually familiarising themselves with the other, or when she stopped to sip from her bubble-pink metallic water bottle and the tiniest of drops raced from her strawberry-hued lips, down her swanlike neck, towards her ample cleavage: oh, how he envied that wicked drop of water!

While Jimin sassily snaps at students for showcasing lacklustre pirouettes in his ballet classes, he pardons the ungraceful stumbling of ____’s feet during steps that involve turning; what a gorgeous little klutz, Jimin laughed quietly to himself.  The songs ___ had suggested made their way to his playlist: a string of songs that he played at midnight and believed that although ___’s dancing was questionable, her music taste certainly wasn’t something to be gawked at. After sharing music, they followed each other on social media, (initiated by Jimin, given his curiosity about her life) leading up to an innocuous exchange of humorous memes. Despite being an introvert, ___ had opened up to Jimin.

Jimin realised that he had been hawk-eyed in monitoring all her moves on the ‘gram, although she barely posted any pictures of herself: it was all pictures of annotated stacks of books, the horizon at sunrise and stray cats. Mysterious vibe, I like it, he thought.  

 ___ had discovered that there was so much more to Jimin than his looks, albeit his looks alone brought a lot of the footfall to the dance classes. He was not a shallow person; there was a latent passion in his heart to change things for better, evidenced by his charitable educational projects for children in the vicinity, which he had spearheaded since the very year that his institute came into being. Jimin was also quite the conversationalist: he could be talking about the global political economy at one minute and expressing his thoughts on Sabrina Carpenter’s new album in the very next breath. ___ admired how his social butterfly self was the total opposite of her wallflower demeanour; he could slither his way into any discussion in the world, just about as smoothly as he moved.

mature content ahead: NSFW, description of physical intimacy

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Jimin drawled into her ears, his palms firmly planted on either side of her head, as he angled his face downwards to capture her expression with his ravenous eyes.

The studio was empty. The last batch of students had hurriedly scuttered away, given that it was a Saturday night. ___ stuck around just to watch him. Over the past six months, which seemed to fly by, their connection had deepened.

“I really don’t. I feel like I come off as clumsy,” ___ said, her cheeks flustered by the undivided attention that Jimin was bestowing upon her.

“You are,” he sniggered. “But there’s also something that calls out to me. The vocabulary of your body language is quite flirtatious, maybe you are unaware of it; it is the kind of subtle, repressed sexiness that pulls me in. It is innate. One cannot just put on that front and you have that… if I may say so,” After giving it a light nibble, Jimin left the ghost of his lips on the tip of her now reddened right ear and flashed an elusive smile her way.

“Well, I have a confession to make,” ___ choked out, somehow, befuddled by the intensity of Jimin’s nearness and her own wildly thrumming heart. Jimin expressed his interest with his eyebrows raised, his eyes still fixed on her form.

“I joined these classes because of my initial fascination with you, after seeing you on social media.”

“And? You are not fascinated by me anymore? Apologies for shattering your beautiful illusions,” Jimin broke into a teasing laugh, taking back a few steps.

“No! But that was, purely because of your outer beauty. I am trying to say that after getting to know you, there are many more reasons that I like keeping you company. Reasons that are not at all superficial.”

“So you like me,” Jimin said in a hushed voice, as if their clandestine meeting could be interrupted any moment by an intruder who may have been eavesdropping on them. Even though they were all by themselves in the studio; the ferocity of their solitude was just too much.

___ gazed at him, lulled by his presence, unable to do anything but take in the magnificence of Park Jimin who was now stretching his arms, looking like a nymph under a waterfall and heading dangerously close towards her very own self.

Jimin’s beautiful fingers reached out to caress ___’s cheek while reading the emotion encased behind her eyes. Anticipation? Love? Lust? Or all three of them? He was awfully eager to find out, so he dipped his head to the level of her height and delicately enveloped his lips with hers, as soft and sweet as he could be. ___ fervently kissed him back with Jimin snaking his hands around her waist, not even leaving an infinitesimal speck of distance between them. As Jimin stirred for a second in order to give her space and time to breathe, ___ released a groan of disapproval, resenting even a moment of separation from Jimin: a gesture that made him smile.

As he continued kissing downwards her neck, Jimin nudged her towards the couch, guiding her face-first, with an abundant amount of kissing of course. ___ nearly tripped over her feet as she landed on the couch with a squeak escaping her lips, making Jimin simper into the still unbroken kiss as he continued to hold her. Jimin’s fingertips lightly fluttered over the straps of her summer dress, as if seeking permission. ___ longingly stared at him from beneath her eyelashes, and coyly nodded.

The fabric of her dress was peeled off her skin by Jimin with the utmost care as he took it off her frame and flung it sideways. He took a few steps back, and with his eyes gleaming, Jimin looked at ___ from head to toe, as if she were an artwork showcased at a museum, much like the very first day that he had seen her.

“What?” ___ stuttered shyly shielding her almost-bare self with her arms from his wild eyes.

“Exquisite. The pink lace. Of course. Pretty like you.”

Jimin knelt on his knees on the oakwood floor, and deftly placed an open-mouthed kiss on her now exposed stomach, leaving behind a hot patch of wetness as his intrepid fingers began to fiddle with the hook of her rose-coloured bralette, undoing it in no time. Jimin’s eyes had now lost their earlier mischievous glint, they acquired a darker, more sensuous hue as he took in the mouthwatering sight before him.

 The unrestrained galore of ___’s breasts made his breathing inconsistent and his mouth salivate… which was something that he put to good use; he plopped his watery mouth on her right nipple, making ___ gasp in surprise while his other hand fondled the left one (which would soon receive the same amount of affection as the other one), the pads of his fingers heatedly felt each and every inch of her skin. With wetness pooling between her thighs unchecked, ___ trembled from Jimin’s brazen devotion to her chest; she felt as if several jolts of electricity were running through her veins at once.

“The bedframe. I need to pull that out… from beneath the couch. Wait. We are going to need it,” Jimin huffed, momentarily stepping away from their rendezvous to make it more comfortable for them: he had one of those sofa-beds in his personal room at the studio… couches that transform into beds for the evenings that he may be too tired after dancing.

Jimin dragged ___ by her arms to the front of the bed and picked up exactly where he left of. He kissed her chest once again before placing his palms flat against her thighs, which felt warm and buttery soft. Jimin watched her face intently for a reaction when he began to circle ___’s inner thigh with his index finger, lingering dangerously close to her pretty pink panties with the light colour doing nothing to conceal the speckle of dampness smackdab in the centre, begging for Jimin to pay heed to it. ___ bit back her pathetic mewling which was about to spill from her lips.

___’s hands found their way to Jimin’s stylish suspenders, but they lacked the sophisticated restraint of Park Jimin; she was famished for some form of contact with his skin. She tugged at the back yoke of the suspenders’ braces in anguish, looking at Jimin’s clouded eyes; Jimin assisted her in snapping them off as they fell slackened around his waist, his eyes not leaving ___’s alluring bosom.

After painfully forsaking her unimaginably doughy thighs, Jimin’s elegant fingers flitted over the middle of her panties, feeling up their way over her sopping slit, making Jimin scrunch up his eyes and groan at the its drenched state. ___was a blushing mess, mumbling his name out of surprise. His hands tenderly shed the last piece of clothing on her body: Jimin hooked both of his hands at the sides of her thighs and stripped her underwear off her which had grown quite stubborn, owing to the oozing pond of desire surrounding it. After undressing her, Jimin examined her panty, placed daintily on his palm. ___ was flabbergasted to witness what occurred right after. He brought the fabric close to his nose and inhaled her sweet scent, almost as if it was his life-source, with his tongue sticking out.

“What are you doing,” ___ said, with an arm outstretched to grab her panty back and shielding her bare breasts with another.

“This belongs to me now,” Jimin snickered, clutching the lacey number tightly in hand and twirling it with his fingers like a newfound jewel; the core of the underwear was exposed to his nose yet again, as his eyelashes fluttered shut, and a hungry whiff passed through his lungs; ___ was certainly delectable to taste, he mused.

___ succumbed to the discomfiture creeping up on her cheeks in the form of a raging blush and staggered backwards onto the sofa-bed with Jimin’s unforgiving gaze taking in every single movement of hers. Jimin neatly tucked her shell-pink panty into the drawer beside him, securely locking it behind himself as if that piece of underclothing was the kind of treasure that numerous people would covet.  

“I have, in this very room, often fantasised about having you unclothed, I must admit. I have pictured it one too many times. And so much more,” Jimin backed ___ into the mattress, crawling up on the sofa-bed with his knees bent and cornering his very dear and very naked ___. Jimin hastily unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, watching ___’s shy eyes every second and how they flickered rapidly as his toned chest was unravelled before her, wherein the unclicking of each button heightened the delicious ache between her legs.

___ extended her hand to discern a sensation of Jimin’s bare chest; her palms were itching to do so. She explored the expanse of his shirtless torso, gingerly abandoning her bashfulness. Jimin kissed her once again, loosely lacing his forearms around her shoulders; the kiss was unhurried and it was Park Jimin at his best, he could hear her suppressed whimpers from their hot-mouthed smooch alone.

“Jimin-n-n,” ___ sputtered, her voice livid with need when Jimin pulled away from the kiss.

“I know, I know.”

The innermost crevice of her thighs glistened with the dewdrops of her craving and those drove Jimin into a stuporous daze wherein the only thing he knew that he was being devoured by his all-consuming thirst and ___ was spurting like a delicious fountain. Jimin bowed down on the bed to be eye-level with her pitifully wet pussy, providing ___ a glorious panorama of the series of Moon phase tattoos scrolled from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine.

As ___ drooled over Jimin’s body art, she felt a tug at both her feet with Jimin striving to spread her legs; ___ unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, strained by her shyness once again. Jimin clicked his tongue, and this time, with more determination, forked her legs; he anchored both her lower limbs on each side of his shoulders as he greedily observed the congealed strings of juices that swirled in her cunt, freefalling onto the bedsheet. The glimpses of partially-clad Jimin's taut abs and the patchwork of his veins protruding from his forearms could almost propel ___ into a blinding orgasm, untouched.

Kisses were peppered on the undersides of her thighs as Jimin started to salivate, rapturous to follow the enticing trail of aroma being emitted from ___’s weeping centre.

"You are going to make the floorboard leak, running like a faucet," Jimin growled lowly, smacking his lips.

When Jimin leant closer to her pussy, ___ whined, crossing her legs on his bare back out of sheer habit, however, Jimin smirked at the undeniable closeness of her cunt: no amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now.

“Look at you. I had no idea you could be this filthy. Your fucking pussy is overflowing right in front of my eyes and I haven’t even touched you,” upon hearing the so very refined Park Jimin’s extremely lewd choice of words reverberating through her skin, for the first time in her life, ___ almost sensed another tidal wave of wetness gush through her cunt, her breasts heaving up and down with her saliva-slicked nipples glimmering pertly.

Jimin’s leather pants seemed to have deflated, closing in on tightly on his dick, painfully smothering it; but it was his member that was soaked in precum and had burgeoned in size, owing to the starkly naked visual of his crush splayed out before him, moaning with her pussy pleasurably bubbling: the scene sparked a fire at the pit of his stomach, making him needier by the minute. He wanted nothing more than to shimmy off the waistband of his briefs and pants and fuck her mercilessly right into her creaming cunt but, he was aware that that had to wait and he had to practise some restraint; they had a longer way to go for that to happen, at least for now.

Jimin traced the glossy flower-bud of her cunt with his finger, inciting a shocked, incisive intake of breath from ___ and then plopped his mouth on her clit, sucking it with his lips as ___ breathlessly thrashed about, her legs squeezing Jimin’s torso between themselves. One of his hands solidly grasped her left thigh in its place, and another situated itself at her glossily wet entrance as his index finger toyed with the tight trench of her pussy, eliciting a panting chorus of his name from her lips. He inserted a dexterous finger into her most intimate cavity and the midriff of ___’s body rose up from the sofa-bed, as if levitating. Jimin, unfrazzled by her explosive reaction and with a one track-mind to finally relish his personal delicacy, leapt forward with his mouth puckered and settled an open-lipped kiss on her cunt, the sap of her pussy glazing his lush lips.

Jimin’s girthy finger soon acquired a maddening pace as it vanished inside her pussy and then exited and he repeated these motions as ____’s pleading grew louder with each moment. She cleaved around his mouth which was afflicting an unrelenting force on her cunt, licking, lightly biting and mouthing all over it. His skilfull tongue worked in tandem with and seemed to be just as agile as his finger as he rolled her bud around in his mouth with a spinning whirl. The onslaught of Jimin’s tongue had ___ convulsing and scampering to clench his hair in her hands as his head bobbled between her legs.

"I want this taste on my tongue forever. You are so enjoyable; you have no clue," Jimin muttered hoarsely while coming up for air before diving face-first into her pussy once again.

"Jimin, fuck.... I-really, I really need you Jim..." ___ was interrupted by a strangled moan hurtling from her own throat as she felt Jimin's finger traverse through a particularly sensitive spot, and upon reading her bodily reaction, Jimin thrust his tongue in the same area, making ___ quiver and shriek his full name.

"Damn, do you want people to think that I am running a torturous dungeon rather than a dance studio in here, screaming like that," Jimin smirked, pleased with himself as he persistently fingered her right where she needed it the most, with his tongue lapping up all of her seductive juices.

___ started to shiver as a deluge of sensations begin to take over her consciousness; Jimin was ceaseless with his mouth attacking every inch of her cunt, exploring pleasurable places that she did not even know existed as his fingers fucked her into a delirium. His now sweat-streaked hair was plastered across her thighs, tickling her with each rise and fall of his head between her legs as he kept making his craving for her well-known through his dirty monologues.

___ grabbed Jimin's bare biceps to steady herself as he noisily slurped on her clit, drool pouring from his mouth to the shiny folds of her pussy, foreseeing a strong climax coming. She felt a colossal flare forming in her belly, desperate to be released as her moans created even more clamour; in her head, a montage of the vulgar yet beautiful things that shirtless Jimin had said to her played on loop, sending her over the edge. In a hot flash, she orgasmed as Jimin's tongue gave her one final flick and then, after having depleted all her strength, her limbs drooped around him, her eyes closing.

Jimin, with his measured movements, brought ___ an orgasm that would forever be indelible in her mind; it would be the yardstick for the other ones in the future. After she came, Jimin sincerely cleaned her up between her inner thighs with his tongue as she hissed because of her recent climax and oversensitivity in the zone.

"Let me bring you some warm water and a fresh washcloth, I have some supplies in a cabinet right here," Jimin said, walking up to the studio's corridor, while licking his lips, seeking the sweet and briny aftertaste of ___.

"Wait. Jimin. What about you," ___ said groggily, with her eyes half-shut, referring to his evident full-on boner.

"Uh, I will take care of that... later."

"No. I want you."

"It is not the time for that yet. Let me take you to dinner first. Also, have you seen yourself? You will pass out from round two, my pillow princess," Jimin laughed, handing her the rumpled dress that he had discarded off her body a while ago.

A month later

"I could never move like you in a thousand years. I had thought about getting another dancing tutorial class before coming to yours in order to impress you and not be so inelegant in front of you," ___ reminisced about the early days of getting to know her now-boyfriend Jimin.

"Even though your bodily coordination while dancing is reproachable, I must say that I was already quite impressed after holding a few conversations with you, my smarty-pants. Not to mention I was bowled over by your beauty," Jimin affectionately pecked her forehead, cuddling her under a soft duvet as they both drifted off to sleep.

a/n: my first time ever writing smut and all my knowledge about it comes from books and movies...not me trying to avoid writing it in this one-shot for the longest time possible, because you know, context is important. lol.

DISCLAIMER  This is a work of fanfiction with the BTS members as characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment.

© @btskitty17 on tumblr 2024

[utilitycaster]

In thinking about the new information we've recently learned about the gods of Exandria, I started thinking about epic fantasy novels. The thing is, Exandria's deity lore is not actually terribly unique. This isn't a bad thing! But the idea of an idyllic age when gods were not just powerful but present and united; the fall of one (or many) gods and an ensuing devastation this causes; and the gods subsequently withdrawing or diminishing is a very, very common one in fantasy (and, to be totally honest, world religion). Similarly, the idea of a much more advanced age that has since passed into distant memory is also an extremely common trope. I think it's less common to have both of these tropes working in tandem though certainly not unheard of (hello, Wheel of Time), and the nature of the storytelling method in effect here means that the fallen advanced civilization is more thoroughly developed in the worldbuilding than it is in many other stories, but none of this is a wildly new concept.

I want to talk about genre, medium, and actual play, which is sort of both and sort of neither. I think people talking about actual play tend to mash all three of these things together when they really shouldn't.

(this is a long one so it's under a cut to not wreck your dash)

The genre of Critical Role's main campaigns is heroic fantasy, which I know I've covered in the past, and of epic scale. This is honestly pretty typical of D&D. NADDPod (especially Bahumia) and TAZ Balance and Graduation are also arguably within this same broad genre, just more comedic and looser with aspects of the worldbuilding.

Despite the fact that Brennan is very well-versed in fantasy novels, D20's main deal is that it's not classic heroic fantasy. I think this is actually a bigger factor in why people prefer CR to D20 than many people think. The shorter length is definitely another factor (though that too feels almost related - the critically acclaimed indie comic run to Critical Role's series of doorstopper novels) but Dimension 20, while it comments on classic heroic fantasy with Fantasy High and Escape from the Bloodkeep, only ever dips into anything actually approaching that genre with the Game of Thrones-inspired low fantasy seasons and, funnily enough, with the Dungeons and Drag Queens miniseries. Otherwise, it's telling school stories, urban fantasy, space operas, heists, murder mysteries, comedies of manners, and action-adventure. Similarly, TAZ Steeplechase and Amnesty very much aren't of this genre. Critical Role meanwhile touches on supernatural horror with Candela Obscura.

Actual Play is a means of telling a story, and typically the system at least puts in place the general expectations of what can be done within the improv. Some systems (such as Candela Obscura or Blades in the Dark) set a particular genre; others, like D&D, favor one but permit a good degree of flexibility. Actual Play is not really the same as genre, as discussed above; D20 genre hops quite readily, as does The Adventure Zone, even while using the same TTRPG systems.

Finally, there's medium. This one is easy. Critical Role and D20 are filmed shows (though are available as podcasts); so is, to give a non-Actual Play example, The Bear. NADDPod and TAZ are podcasts. So are (for example) The Silt Verses and Midst.

The reason I've outlined all of the above is to say that I think people tend to assume simply being actual play is somehow closer than sharing genre. This is also to an extent true for longform fiction podcasts (though it is less true for TV and books). I think this has led to an influx of fans of actual play (and, tbh, podcasts) who aren't familiar with the genres within which actual play shows are working.

I do not say this to gatekeep (though honestly, gatekeeping is both not inherently bad and also, not possible in this context). It's more of an exploration of what I think may be a reason why, particularly in the Critical Role fandom, it feels some of the Campaign 3 opinions feel somewhat half-baked.

You can be a fan of heroic fantasy and enjoy actual play but not actually be terribly into actual play that isn't heroic fantasy. I think some people who loved Critical Role Campaign 1 but nothing after that and no other actual play fit into that category. I think Campaign 1's fandom was, indeed, heavily skewed towards fans of fantasy and fans of D&D (as a venue to roleplay one's own fantasy story and as a game itself heavily shaped by heroic fantasy fiction) more so than anything else. If you like, say, The Kingkiller Chronicles or the Stormlight Archives or the Wheel of Time or Lord of the Rings? You might like Critical Role.

By 2018, and definitely by 2019-2020, the landscape had changed, and the attitude was much more one of "if you like this actual play, you'll like this one" which is actually...nowhere near as true, in my mind, as recommendations based on genre. I think this is also when people started folding in "longform speculative fiction podcasts in general" which to be honest was already an issue with the medium of longform fiction podcasts. Wolf 359, The Silt Verses, Midst, The Penumbra Podcast, and any season of NADDPod are all longform, plot-based speculative fiction podcasts with queer representation, but that doesn't actually mean someone who likes one will like another. (Also? Queer rep? Gets treated like podcasts or actual play, to be honest. It's extremely possible to love only one of The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand, The Woods All Black, and The Priory of the Orange Tree despite all of these being novels with queer relationships, yet a lot of the time Queer Rep is treated as a genre, an "if you like this, you'll like that!")

I think it is true that there are people who enjoy actual play on a fairly general level (myself included), and with podcasts especially I think there are people who enjoy fiction delivered in this manner and people who have some difficulty with it. But I think there's a tendency to push people who like one actual play towards other actual play when they may be more interested in longform audio fiction, scripted or not; or might be inclined towards a particular genre. To go back to the examples I've given, someone who likes Candela Obscura might find The Silt Verses and The Woods All Black more appealing than, for example, Fantasy High, despite that also being filmed actual play, because the latter two are also supernatural horror with exploration of class.

Because actual play, in its weird not a medium, not a genre, but kind of both space is, well, in between spaces, it gets treated as the most specific element of works of fiction when that's not always true. The consequences, therefore, end up being twofold. You get people who come to AP series because they liked another one that doesn't actually have a ton in common, and it ends up hit or miss (this is one of my theories why the D20 fandom can be extremely weird about Critical Role; because it was pushed on them when it's really not what they're into, which is neither their nor CR's fault); and you get people coming to specific actual plays and enjoying them without much familiarity with their genres, which I think is behind some of the weirder C3 takes since C3 is arguably the first campaign that truly began after Actual Play began to be treated as a genre.

[wintersongstress]

— fiancé;

A/N: This is very sappy but I don't think I'm sorry 🫣

As the lush slopes of the English countryside sails past the window, there is no sense of past or present in Simon’s mind. With your hand in his, all the rest floats away, a blur of green and white, and he is lulled for the first time into a dream of a future—hopeful, solid, and within his grasp. Not the smoke and haze it used to be, but a vision which gathered light and clarity. Like dawn on a riverbank, the fog which settles after a long, cool night lifts. Suddenly Simon could imagine the sunrise of being yours and all the days that came after.

You are none the wiser to his pivotal reflections, absorbed in reading a novel while the train wends smoothly along the rail tracks. Your hand is nestled safely in his and you occasionally stroke a thumb over his knuckle. The sun twists a kaleidoscope of streaks across your features, with patches of sky in-between the forest hues, and he is transfixed in this moment. If only his squad mates could see him now, Simon thinks. He always got as far away from it all as he could when he was on leave. When he was with you. He softened into someone else, someone he liked to be.

Never in his life had being with someone and spending time with them felt so liberating and worthwhile, nor brought him such serene happiness. Together, you made memories he wishes he could trap in time, like an insect encapsulated in amber.

That morning, he had followed your adventure-seeking whims out of bed, into packing a lunch and dressing for sunshine, and hopping on a train out of the noise of the city. Through the sprawling, picturesque gardens of one of England’s many castles, you walked beside him, your graceful arm looped through the solidity of his. He liked it that way: showing the world this beautiful woman was his, and how he intended to keep her. Anyone could plainly see that the two of you were together, and were happy.

The air smelled of summer grass and a pond rippled with the glide of two swans where you found a place to rest this afternoon, at the water’s edge beneath the drooping shade of a willow. On a blanket you spent the better part of an hour lying within the mystery of those branches swaying in the dreaming wind, meanwhile Simon kissed and kissed you, long and deep, slow and sweet. Your skirt petaled around your legs and you smiled up at him, tracing the divot of his nose with a fingertip before he brought his mouth to yours again.

Though your blouse had hitched above your waist and the skin of your stomach was warm and soft beneath his wandering palm, he kept his caresses leashed; docile and satisfied. When he gazed at you—at the inimitable color of your eyes, the tilt of your smile, and the subtle furrow of your brow—all his heart could think was, my love, and pressed his forehead to yours. And it was enough. It was all he wanted. What more could he ask for?

Presently, you flip a page, and the sunlight catches the silver of your earrings—glittering, graceful, drawing his eyes down the elegant column of your neck. His fingers were in the mindless midst of tracing the lines of your palm, searching, he realized, for the one which promised a long life. With him. That was what he wanted. And the revelation makes him stop short.

He wanted to put a ring on that caring, loving hand which laid in his. Simon knew it with more certainty than anything. How pretty the sight would be, how complete the picture. To feel the facets of an emblematic stone beneath his thumb would make it all real and cast all the pain endured in his life far behind.

Upon reaching the summit of his thoughts, a feeling seizes his gut, worse than the leap out of a plane to descend into a combat zone. He never imagined this for himself; all the happiness, security, and commitment he was ready to provide for you which seemingly came from thin air. But what was more terrifying was the alternative: letting you go. Never choosing that path the one and only time it opened up to him. Never being brave enough to be the man who goes after what he wants and communicates it.

Sensing his shift in mood, your hand slides out of his grasp, trailing up his forearm. He finds your gaze fixed to him, soft with a question, oblivious to his tumultuous epiphany. There was no mask he could put on with you: it was all plainly written on his face. The way you sidle closer, pressing your arm against his, the roiling doubt and uncertainty abates and the fabric of the dream weaves tight. If he were to ask, you would say yes. Because you’re tracing that same line in his palm with the same intent, and his heart beats again.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello hello! How are you doing miss Raven?

Just read your toughts about book 7 chapter 12 part 1 (wow that's a mouthful) and am pretty happy you enjoyed it like i did! I totally agree with your critiques on it too, especially regarding the lack of in-depth analysis towards Cater. I feel like this was the perfect chance to delve into his character even if for a short while, but I guess the team had to limit themselves to a specific number of chapters, and decided to prioritise some things over the others.

Hopefully, when the novel of book 7 comes out(💀) we'll get more in-depth with each dream/characters. At least this is my guess after reading the first novel and snippets of the second, where I really enjoyed the extra details to the world and characters (ignoring the weird language translator spell that doesn't make any sense the more you look into it).

Buut we'll have to wait a long time for that, which I'm mostly fine with because I don't want a rushed product(though the wait is still a little painful😣)

On a side note, the Ace Attorney bit with the two Deuce idea is so genius I really wish it was real. Really put me in a mood to write it when I read it dndhejvd

Anyways! Sorry for the too long yap and wish you a good day/night!!

[You can read my full thoughts on the book 7 part 12 Cater and Deuce update here!]

Twst 2025 updates gonna be like book 7 chapter 20 part 34 section 56 paragraph 89 sentence 10 💀

Yeeeah, I feel like Cater's dream was relegated to being one of those "funny haha" dreams (*stares at Epel*) and didn't really examine his character in a new and/or meaningful way 😔 I'm not sure if there would be a satisfactory way for the devs to have us dream hopping to each of the casts' dreams without something being compromised, whether it be the pacing or the quality of the writing. Unfortunately, each character is only allotted so much time... so Cater wasn't able to have his character shine and we focused on some of the shallowest aspects of him, things we already know. You'd think that literally being in his dreamscape would reveal something... heftier (?) about him.

I don’t expect a full-on depresso Cater moment, but I’d at least have liked to have a little more than what we got. Like what if the OG Cater barging in at least acted a little more serious, or had glimpses of his “true” character peeking through? What if we got an actual explanation as to why Cater had his clone be his stand-in, like he was too emotionally out of it that day and needed time for himself?? What if OG Cater wore a normal Heartslabyul dorm uniform, indicating how he wants to be among the common people and be friends instead of the isolated ruler??? What if Cater wakes up because the Deuce imposter trial reminds him of his own inability to be “true” to himself??? We could have gotten WAY more.

LIGHT NOVEL, IT'S ON YOU TO SAVE THE DUMPSTER FIRE THAT IS THE TERRIBLE DREAM SEQUENCES 🤡 But even then, I have major concerns about the length of the book 7 light novel. They'd have to either cut each dream short to contain it all in a single volume OR extend it across multiple volumes in order to grant every dream the proper time and development they didn't get in the game. (I talk more about this topic here!) It sounds like a logistical nightmare no matter how you think about it... And yes, that translation spell makes no sense the longer you ponder it and it was not explained adequately-- Stay strong for the wait... (<- still has to finish reading the first volume of the light novel)

You have no idea how badly I want that double Deuce imposter trial to happen OTL IN FACT I WANNA DO MY OWN REWRITE (since I've actually written a Twst x Ace Attorney trial fic before!) TOO... Alas, holiday season is so busy + I have other things to write so if I do it at all, it might come out around the time the book 7 Heartslabyul update comes out in EN 😭

[avoicebehindthestars]

On Rob's Good Omens sweaters...

Bluesky has some photos of Rob Wilkins wearing these two holiday sweaters:

At the first glance you go "awww, how perfect, I need those sweaters!" but then you're like "hold on a second!"

For the sake of this meta, I'm going to assume the designs are deliberate, and not just idk cheap fakes ordered from temu lol.

Let's start with stating the obvious. The red sweater has the characters' roles reversed - Crawly is sheltering Aziraphale. It's not a "book thing" either - there, Aziraphale held his own wings above himself. This is a minor detail, but Crawly's stance is also different than in the show - his legs are apart, in a position indicating strength, confidence, and protection. Meanwhile, the blue sweater has what looks like angel!Crowley sheltering a black-haired fallen angel. My first thought was that is could be Satan and this might be a hint that we're going to see Crowley's fall after all. But now I think different.

Regarding the red sweater in particular, my thoughts immediately wandered towards the multiple Edens theory and the two Crowleys theory. Just to quickly recap: discrepancies in the details on the walls of Eden have been spotted, and at one point someone from the crew mentioned that there were "many Edens" in existence (possibly testing grounds before the real one? Or several different enclosures for the first breeding pairs? We never found out). As for Crowley - many people have noticed differences in his looks throughout season 2. Most notably, his sideburns have differing length and it shifts within the same scene, e.g. the sideburns are long in the pub, but short when he leaves the pub; they are short during the "exactlys" argument, but long when Crowley snatches his sunglasses while storming out of the bookshop. Bildad the Shuhite also has two different hairstyle (one is shorter, more evenly cut and carefully combed, whereas the other is longer and a bit more "windswept"). There's also the matter of different camera filters, which is a commonly used technique to show different worlds (think Supernatural, and I think also some MCU films?), and the disappearing props.

So, taking the sweaters into consideration, could the world of Good Omens be comprised of multiple realities? The novel is one. Season 1 is another. Season 2 shows TWO (!), which are almost identical. Who knows, perhaps the Crowley with the short sideburns managed to sway Aziraphale in the Final Fifteen, or even changed his mind and hopped on the lift at the last moment? What if, presented on the sweaters are two more? On, in which it was Crawly offering shelfter to Aziraphale, and another one in which it was Aziraphale who fell (and his hair blackened in the process). Perhaps there are versions of this (sorry, couldn't resist!) in which they both fell, neither did, or they were an established couple by season 1?

It this were to prove true in the movie, it will have some pros, of course. Firstly, it would legitimise virtually all headcanons you might have (I was a little upset when s2 finale made it clear they weren't secretly a couple before). It would also boost creativity for all the reverse!Omens fic writers. And, of course, it would explain many things fans have noticed, especially about s2.

However, other than that, I don't think I like it that much. Above all, I simply dislike multiverse - I find them often too convenient narratively, while also needlessly convoluted. But aside from that, I wouldn't be happy to see that particular take in the movie. If we were getting out 6 episodes, it would be fun to watch particular scenes and increasingly go "huh?" as we spot consecutive discrepancies and minor details that don't work. And by the time it was revealed it would feel really rewarding that you have spotted the details, even if you failed to work it all out. Within mere 90 minutes… it just doesn't feel like enough time to drop enough hints, or, alternatively, the movie would be oversaturated with them. Finally, it would mean less screentime for the mercilessly truncated Aziracrow reconcilliation arc (which I am still grieving over), as instead we would receive glimpses of different universes, while still navigating the complex Second Coming plotline. Also, what would be the endgame? All the Aziraphales and Crowleys combining their forces to beat heaven and hell/the new christ/god herself? That's a bit too Marvel if you ask me, and with all my reservations about the movie, I rather trust Narrativia to offer us something much more original.

[2baabbies]

skz bingo; #7, she/her pronouns, with chan?? maybe some sort of bookstore meet cute where reader can't reach a certain book that's on a shelf just out of her reach, but chan is a little taller than her so he manages to crowd against her back and grab the book for her?? 👀 I don't mind either sfw or nsfw, whichever feels like it fits the fic best!

my dear, I couldn’t make chan taller for fear of excluding the tall girlies ;w; but I think I still worked it in well. and I hope you like hyunlix, because they’re in the background fulfilling my bookkeeper/florist couple fantasies. I also split the difference between n/sfw with extraflirty!chan, enjoyyy 🫶🏻

🖤 read me like a book (bangchan x reader) 🖤

Pairings: chan x reader, background hyunlix

Words: 1170 (I gave up on the world limit)

Humour + Suggestive (no smut) + Fluff

fem!reader

Request guidelines here!

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

Felix has been flirting with Hyunjin for over ten minutes, which is only a problem for you because he is sitting on the only ladder in the entire bookstore. The shop owner sits on the middle rungs as the florist leans against the wall and dramatically tells him about his morning. Felix clutches the bundle of white and yellow daffodils Hyunjin brought for him to his chest with a dreamy smile.

Residing on one of the upper shelves, out of your reach, is a new romance novel that you came to purchase. You steal a glance at Hyunjin and Felix, then continue glaring at your target. Now, it was not just the minor inconvenience souring your mood, but the envy of seeing the two men together. You felt incredibly unlucky in comparison to the perfect couple chatting away in the corner. You were tired of reading about romance, and more than ready to find it for yourself.

The tips of your fingers just brush the spine of one of the copies as you try again, and you sigh in defeat. Climbing the shelf would be entirely too hazardous, although you are getting desperate enough at this point to try it. You had been waiting for this book for months. But, as miserable as you were, you refused to interrupt Felix and Hyunjin.

“Hey there,” You look over your shoulder to face the man that speaks to you, “You, uh, look like you could use a little help?”

“I’ve got it.”

The speed in which you turn away is criminal. The stranger is incredibly handsome, and you would be damned if you let the cutest man to ever walk into this bookstore see the smut you were trying to pull off the shelf. He clears his throat gently and you peek over your shoulder at him.

“Hm, are you sure? I’ve got to grab something up there anyway.”

“O-Okay. I-If you wouldn’t mind…”

You are about to move when the man drops a stepstool behind you and springs onto it with ease. He braces one hand over your shoulder and leans in, his chest brushing against your back as he grabs the books. Your breath catches as he hops down again, and you will yourself to breathe as you turn around. You inhale sharply as he does not hand the book over to you, but flips through it instead. He then reads that lovely little page of content warnings- mainly kinks- listed by the author at the beginning of the book.

Your face burns as he hums and casually places it in your hand.

“Here’s your book.”

“It’s not mine,” You blurt quickly.

“Oh? Did you want a different one?”

You clutch it to your chest.

“N-No! I-I’m buying it… for my friend. I don’t read this stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” There is a troublesome little glint in his eye, “That’s a shame. That author is quite popular. Maybe you should give it a try?”

You squirm under his playful gaze. You wish you could just melt into the bookcase to escape this conversation.

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“It’s not… realistic…”

His eyebrows quirk but he looks satisfied with your answer. Felix interrupts the tense moment as he begins leaving the bookstore with Hyunjin.

“Hey, Chan, I’m taking my break now. You got an eye on the cash?”

“Yeah, mate, you’re good. I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Hyunjin gives you an excited wave, which you return shyly, as Felix adds:

“Oh, y/n, I put a book aside for you. It’s behind the counter. Chan, her name is on it.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you,” You murmur.

The doorbell chimes as the door falls shut behind them, and you are left alone with Chan. He kicks up the stepstool and catches it one hand.

“Well, y/n,” He coos in his lovely accent, “I’ll be at the cash if you need anything. Give me a shout if you have any questions, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah, sure.”

He winks and walks behind the counter, settling in and opening the book he pulled from the shelf. You stall for a bit, then steel your nerves and approach the checkout. Chan sets his book aside and smiles as you set yours on the counter. He finds the book Felix set aside for you, and it is the exact same book you pulled from the shelf.

The road to Hell is truly paved with good intentions.

Chan pauses then coyly asks, “I guess you don’t want two of these, hm?”

You puff your cheeks.

“No.”

He chuckles and begins ringing up your purchase.

“Okay, I won’t tease you anymore. You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know?”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

He side-eyes you playfully.

“Alright. Are you paying with cash or card?”

“Cash.”

You quickly pull the bill from your pocket and hand it to Chan. You are both quiet as he makes your change then hands it back to you. You count it then furrow your brow gently.

“Something wrong?”

“Um, it seems… You gave me extra.”

He checks the receipt then looks at your hand as you hold it out to him.

“No, it’s right.”

“You gave me a discount?”

You drop the change in your pocket and accept the book and receipt as he hands them to you.

“Of course. Pretty girls shouldn’t have to pay full price.”

You fluster.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tease me anymore?”

He rests his chin in his hand and leans his elbows on the counter with a smirk.

“That wasn’t teasing. That was flirting.”

You clutch the book to your chest and duck your blushing face.

“Well…”

He giggles and the charming sound startles you to look up again.

“Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“I-It’s okay.”

“Hm?”

“Uh, you don’t have to stop.”

Chan smiles warmly.

“Only if you like it.”

“I, um, I do.”

“Okay then. Well, I hope your friend likes the book.”

“It’s almost worse when you pretend you don’t know…”

“Well, for the record, I believed you a little bit.”

“Sure.”

“I did,” He purrs, “And I would agree with you. I tried to read those books but they weren’t really my thing.”

“You did?”

“Mhm, like you said: it wasn’t realistic. If you’d like an example of something more realistic though, I’d be happy to show you.”

You roll your eyes as a grin breaks out on his face. Although he delivered the line with confidence, his whole face is flushed like yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

Chan winks as you walk away.

“Have a good day!”

You rush out of the bookstore and pause outside as you notice something sticking out of the book you just purchased. You flip it open to see a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it. You look through the window of the bookstore to see Chan, giving you a fluttery wave as you piece it all together. You huff and cover your face as you stomp away, but you cannot suppress your charmed smile.

[yanderelovebites]

It’s been some time since I’ve been on here… but I’ve been having this idea on my mind for awhile. Yandere dollmaker with a darling who reads Yandere stories—she knows the signs but isn’t the best at avoiding getting kidnapped because she thinks “I’m not the person people obsess over”. Have Yandere be an actual label in this world. Have it be an arranged marriage. Have her freak out because by law she has to know her fiancé is a Yandere and she knows he’s also a dollmaker. Have her remember every creepy Yandere dollmaker story ending up with their partner being turned into a doll…

And after meeting him get embarrassed because he finds the stereotype ridiculous and depending on which novel it is, hilarious. Have it obvious he is disgusted at the idea someone would literally make their target of affection into a doll. He says “It’s cliché at this point, like authors can’t make up their own ideas. I get maybe comparing them to a doll or doing things to make them doll like—but full blown make them a doll… UCK!”

Have dollmaker Yandere not help the case when he takes notes of the kind of clothes you wear and start sketching outfits. If darling has any deformities he’s already making the limbs to be exactly that. It absolutely doesn’t help that one time he makes you sit still so he can model a doll face after your face.

It gets worse when your parents decide you have to move in.

You see it all in real time. The outfits and at some point you see it. The doll he made to look like you. It was freaking you out and all he did was say “I made her just like you~”

You have further reason not to believe he wouldn’t commit to your fears because the staff on hand mentioned how all his exes mysteriously disappeared. You’ve read too many novels to not assume the worst.

He gets tired of this chase for your affection so he makes you sit with him while he works. It’s creepy being around so many limbs and eyes that you feel follow you.

After weeks of that he’d finally address the comments. He doesn’t say what happened to them, just that “I didn’t turn them into dolls” to make you feel better. He’s aware of the fact you’re always going to hop back to that.

You don’t know why but his parents seemed relieved when you actually make it to the marriage date. It told you enough though-clearly his exes never did. Against your better judgement you had to ask in the honeymoon.

He tells you youll never find them. They’re gone, vile, and didn’t deserve anything. It doesn’t make sense…

It starts to, however when he lets you talk with the maid again who tell you more about the girls. From the sounds of each, they were of higher standing than you and more outgoing. They went to parties! Closest thing to going to parties you did was book signings… it was clear after hearing everything that maybe he hated their outgoing personality…

Until he finds out they’ve been talking about them. It’s clear they’re side subjects and the next time you see the maid, her eye is badly injured. You ask and she just tells you a punishment was given and she can no longer speak about the former ladies.

You kept digging and digging despite what you’ve read, honestly you were turning into the protagonist that dies if you look back on your actions.

Then you find not female skeletons, but male skeletons in the basement. They forgot to lock it. He found out.

He questioned why you went down there. He loses control, which resulted in your face getting hit and your ankle broke. He’s upset when he comes down from his manic moment. Holds you… then tells you who they are. The only one without a head was his first fiancée’s affair partner. The others were men who wanted his others and he had no idea if they actually had affairs or not.

That’s why he loves you so much. You don’t have those types of connections. He doesn’t have to doubt you. He takes you upstairs and has the maids get your ankle set. It still didn’t tell you what happened to the girls… but if he kept the skeletons of the affairs… what about the girls? He said he didn’t turn them into dolls, so what did he do?

You couldn’t leave bed for weeks. He himself came to take care of you. You were his everything,the one person who didn’t betray his love once… and creepily you begin to notice something… your ankle did not get better once you healed. You needed a cane to walk. Then one day someone poisoned your food.

He went on a rampage of the servants. Blaming each one as the doctors took care of you and you learn you’ll never walk again, but at least you’re alive. You’re still able to “provide” as the man put. Your husband didn’t see it the same way you did… you saw freedom lost, but he saw an opportunity gained. He loved taking care of you, choosing your clothes and brushing your hair…

So he started doing that again. You protested at first but it seemed futile. You didn’t understand how this all could happen. You did find out it was the brother of one of the maids that poisoned you.

You felt anxious all the time… as he does your hair, as he chooses your outfits, as he takes you with him throughout the home in your wheelchair.

But he doesn’t see why? He told you how this would end. Didnt he? Didn’t he laugh at the idea of literally turning you into a doll? Didnt he say he understood doing this that made them doll like… he may have not been the reason for your legs to be paralyzed, but now you are doll like. You need him to move around the house. He picks your outfits. He brushes your hair and teeth. He personally bathes you! The only thing you ever do by yourself is eat, but if it was his way he’d do it too.

And that’s without the NSFW

Might make a part two of what would happen if you passed away. I just find the ‘makes you an actual doll’ thing too overdone at this point for this type of Yandere.

[centrally-unplanned]

Oh I had some YU-NO thoughts cache'd I never shared. Thought #1: Btw YU-NO is a 1996 eroge time travel PC-98 VN, context I guess.

Anyway, so in visual novels you often have two goals: fuck multiple hotties and tell an engaging story. These goals are synergistic when your love interests are the story; you choose a girl, and your learn about her and date her and have relationship drama. That is one type of VN, but its not all types - every genre is present in the dating sim VN world, mystery & sci-fi/fantasy plots most commonly.

Here you start running into an issue; you want multiple romance routes, but you don't want to just repeat the story each time you date them. Most people will play multiple or even all the routes. But its not like you are going to write five different endings to your mystery plot. And you can't just...fuck all of them on the way to the ending as one cohesive story, because you are pathetic coward of a dev team and also a nation. A common answer to this dilemma (I first experienced it in G-senjou No Maou) is for you to have a "main" girl, whose romance arc is the plot arc. And then the other girls are clear side girls, who are involved in the main story, sure, and who will give you tidbits, of course, but at a certain point in your arc with them you just trail off. You forget about the murder mystery or whatever, you just date them, have sex scenes, and you will even sometimes have an epilogue where you remark "man, whatever happened with that crazy shit back then?" Its a bit of an odd genre convention but you can see how it works, its lets you have new content and date all the girls without ruining the story, you know who is the 'main' girl is after all.

YU-NO is a mystery sci-game, and it a quantum multiverse/timelines mystery game. You go through the story, and you collect objects along that story, and you also get jewels that let you anchor your spot in the worldline and teleport back to them with your inventory intact. It looks insane btw:

You get no in-game explanation of it at all, the idea of playing this without a guide seems like a cursed no-sleep streaming challenge.

But anyway, this opens up an interesting idea to you as a designer. You are intentionally supposed to hop back and forth in time, to collect items, and unlock the true ending. So why not build all the romance route storylines around that time travel? And put items at the end of each of those romance arcs? Now you can date them all! In fact, you have to! There is a perfectly logical, in-universe reason for why you have 5 different romance arcs; they are happening in different timelines. You date girl one first, then skip back in time, and start on the next - the main character only barely remembers the time skips, to him he doesn't even feel like he is cheating. Pretty sure its intentionally written that way to make that plot conceit work.

I'm sure other games have done similar tricks, but I think YU-NO is the first - it is a pioneer in VN space for using the high-concept quantum timeline stuff, that is its claim to fame. Its a cute little trick, I like it a lot.

[deanmarywinchester]

previous years: 2022, 2021 / list of worst sf/f/horror

the bangers were BANGING this year, I kept mentally readjusting my top 5 list every time I read something good so the honorable mentions are extremely honorable this year. I hope you read anything that sounds good from this list and tell me about it!

top 5:

chain gang all stars by nana kwame adjei-brenyah: when I say that this book is like the hunger games for adults, I’m not making a glib comparison between two books about fighting to the death, I’m saying that I haven’t felt so intensely about a book since I stayed up late to tear through the hunger games and sob about it when I was thirteen. this book is satire as real and devastating as I’ve ever read, with action scenes that feel like they’re being dripped directly into my hindbrain and a unique and believable love story. put it on hold at your library literally RIGHT now.

the actual star by monica byrne: about a post-climate catastrophe utopian society built around a religion started by a teenage girl in 2012 based on mayan traditions, and also about the teenage girl, and also about the maya. this book made me crazy because the future society felt real enough to touch, with its radical openness and collectivity solving problems that exist today but causing new ones that are totally novel and meaty and interesting to dig into. read it if you’re interested in different ways of being.

the spear cuts through water by simon jiménez: really, REALLY good, fresh, original epic fantasy. jimenez picks a few perspectives to stick to but hops fluidly into bystanders’ brains to give you their perspectives, so even background characters feel fleshed-out and no one’s pain is dismissed as a side effect of heroic battles or whatever. highly recommended if you like framing narratives and stories about stories, and like epic fantasy but wish it wasn’t mostly about finding acceptable enemies to slaughter with cool swords

the dispossessed by ursula k. le guin: I love how much this book is about hope as clear-eyed commitment to the boring and difficult work of a brighter and necessary future. sometimes the work of the glorious anarcho-communist revolution is leaving your university post and romantic partner for months at a time to dig irrigation ditches so nobody starves when there’s a drought. read this book for diplomatic conniving, a clash of values between a capitalist planet and its dissident moon, and hope.

imperial radch trilogy and its spinoffs by ann leckie: what if you were built to be a weapon of the empire, a serene sentient battleship with thousands of human bodies all containing your consciousness, and you lost all bodies but one and had to figure out how to be a person, singular and alone? what if you were a 19th century british military officer and you slept for a thousand years into the decline of the empire? what if you were grown in a vat to be a facsimile of human and then told off for eating all your siblings even though eating them was SO interesting? what then. leckie’s prose is incisive and funny, her unreliable narrators are wonderful, and her stories are intimate even though the backdrops are insanely huge. 👍.

honorable mentions:

house of leaves by mark z. danielewski: guys? anyone hearda this one? anyway. Something Is Wrong With This House horror with themes of storytelling and grief. recommending that you slam this book as fast as possible like I did so you can hold all its layers in your head at once.

the lathe of heaven by ursula k le guin: i thought I didn’t like ursula k le guin, and then I read this book, went OH and immediately devoured the hainish cycle. im so sorry miss ursula. this book about a hapless pacific northwesterner whose therapist is making him dream different realities into being is so sharp and sly and funny. themes of choices, ends and means.

he who drowned the world by shelley parker-chan: I liked the prequel to this addition to the radiant emperor duology. I LOVED this book. parker-chan has invented new and exciting modes of fucked-up codependency and im obsessed. historical light-fantasy with themes of ideals vs what it takes to reach them, gender, and regret.

babel by r. f. kuang: found the didacticism of this book annoying, but i really loved the concept of this novel and the way it slowly ratchets up the stakes. this novel is for people who want to smash the fun of the magic school genre against the reality of universities’ complicity in the imperial machine.

piranesi by susannah clarke: im late to this book but it’s such a weird little gem. peaceful yet unsettling. a man takes care of an endless house with an ocean inside it until he realizes the house is stealing his memories. themes of memory and devotion.

hell follows with us by andrew joseph white: I can only read YA these days if it’s a reread or if it’s genuinely good and really really strange. this is that. weird gory fantasy about a trans teen who escapes his militarized post-apocalyptic christian cult and finds himself turning into something Different. my only gripe is that he uses 2023-perfect language to describe transness and I think he should be inventing genders weve never even thought of. such is YA.

some desperate glory by emily tesch: a rolickin’ good space opera time with terrible women <3. a thriller about how the golden child of her isolated human-supremacist space station cult deprograms and the consequences of it. this feels like a grown-up SPOP until the theoretical physics gets involved. big fan

the library of mount char by scott hawkins: this book is harrow the ninth in suburbia until it becomes a more macabre version of the absurdity of the gomens apocalypse. God raises his children, sometimes brutally, to hone their powers in a neighborhood that mysteriously keeps out outsiders. came for the dysfunctional mess of the god-children and now I can never look at a grill the same way

runners up:

bunny by mona awad: books that make you WISH you were in mona awad’s MFA program where she must have been having a terrible time. the weird one out in an MFA program accepts overtures into the unbearable rich-girls’ clique to find out what they’re Up To. themes of aimlessness and the intersection of class with the art world

camp damascus by chuck tingle: have you ever wished that you were simply too autistic to be successfully demonically brainwashed into not having gay thoughts? horror-flavored thriller that was just fun

light from uncommon stars by ryka aoki: this author put a bunch of genres in a blender and came up with something fun and surprisingly cozy. an immortal woman must sell violinists’ souls to the devil in exchange for their fame, or he’ll drag her to damnation instead. there might be aliens and coffeeshop romance involved. definitely a blender.

the fragile threads of power by v. e. schwab: if you haven’t read a darker shade of magic and you like tightly paced high fantasy and historical fantasy elements, political intrigue, and pirates, read that first. if you have, there’s more now! lila bard are you free on thursday when I am free

the library of the dead & our lady of mysterious ailments by t. l. huchu: a teenage girl provides for her family in soft-apocalypse magic edinburgh with a job carrying messages from ghosts to their living relatives. an ongoing mystery series about the intrigues she uncovers among the dead.

severance by ling ma: this books is on the list of media that is the terror to me: it's about an apocalyptic disease that makes people reenact their routines mindlessly until they collapse. intimate apocalypse novel with themes of late capitalist malaise.

ocean’s echo by everina maxwell: i didn't really like winter's orbit because i'm just not a romance guy, but this second novel stands alone and the romance is more insane and less of the entire point of the novel. (also it's between essentially Discworld's Carrot and Moist Von Lipwig, which is. really something.) in the Space Military, a buttoned-up mind controller must pretend to bend a socialite with illegal mind-reading powers to his will. what if fake relationship but the relationship they have to fake is "brain linked master/servant pair."

the murderbot diaries by martha wells: novellas about a misanthropic security android who jailbroke itself in order to watch tv. the name "murderbot" is a joke but it very much did kill people <3 themes of paranoia and outsiderhood, corporate wrongdoing, repentance, and trust

black water sister by zen cho: zen cho is good at any kind of fantasy she writes, including this, her first modern fantasy novel. a closeted lesbian has to move in with her family in malaysia after college in the US, only to discover that her dead grandmother has some unfinished business involving a local goddess and a conniving real estate developer. themes of family, gender, and place.

the way inn by will wiles: a man who’s paid to pretend he’s other people to attend conferences in their place gets trapped in an endless Marriott. has the sharp humor of a colson whitehead corporate satire until it becomes more straightforwardly horror-flavored.

[miyamiwu]

Essential Elements of an Unlimited/Infinite Flow Story

As someone attempting to write my own Unli Flow, I thought I’d take note of the different elements so I can have a guide I can always refer back to.

I’ve explained what Unli Flow means many times before, but in case you missed it: Unlimited/Infinite Flow is a genre in Chinese web novels that feature characters entering multiple “instances” where they have to complete a challenge and/or solve a mystery. Failure in doing so would lead to consequences, most often death.

There’s also this definition by AshuraYami from the NovelUpdates Forum:

Unlimited Flow/Infinite Flow is a genre originating from the CN novel Terror Infinity. The genre mainly revolves on world hopping involving fictional works (anime, comics, movies, games and novels) and/or original worlds created by the author. Infinite Flow, as it’s ‘infinite’ namesake suggests, can accommodate all other genres, be it fantasy, sci-fi, horror, romance, etc. Representative works are Terror Infinity (origin of genre), Reincarnation Paradise (most chapters and word count), The Ultimate Evolution (promoter of data flow, an infinite flow derivative that is more game-like litRPG) and Thriller Paradise (most famous horror infinite flow).

With the definition out of the way, let’s goooo

[This post will also serve as a rec list of sorts, since I’ll be giving examples of each element from different danmei novels.]

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1. The Authority

The entity/system in charge of the Unlimited Flow system as a whole. Most stories just chalk it up to the Unli Flow being some kind of otherworldly being/extremely advanced AI that just likes to mess with people.

Examples of The Authority

(based on what I remember, at least… Also, beware of spoilers)

The Earth is Online: The Universe

Mist: I forgot what it’s called, but that high tech system in charge of all the Time Traveling stuff...

High Energy QR Code: That black and white cube thing

Surprise! The Supposed Talent Show was Actually—?!: … The TV station...

From left to right: Tang Mo from The Earth is Online and Wu Jin and Wei Shi from Surprise! The Supposed Talent Show was Actually—?!

[Spoilers End]

From having read numerous Unli Flow stories, I conclude that crucial to a great, not just good, Unli Flow story is a well-defined Authority. The explanation behind the Authority’s existence and motives is the foundation to the entire story.

You can have a very fancy building (cool instances, well-developed characters, an exciting enemies to lovers couple, etc.), but if the foundation is flimsy, the building’s value would plummet in your eyes. You can still appreciate the building, of course, but you will never be content with it.

Examples of some novels that are good in almost everything else except The Authority (in my opinion): [spoilery]

Supernatural Movie Actor App: It was too profound with not enough groundwork laid for it, resulting in The Authority feeling detached from the main story.

I Upended Yet Another Campus Urban Legend: The Authority was not exactly bad; it was just inadequate. The justification of the Unli Flow existing became unconvincing because of this.

Escape the Infinite Chamber: THE AUTHORITY IS SO FUCKING RIDICULOUS THAT IT’S ABYSMAL. And the entire thing was explained in just one scene and from one extra??? SO MUCH PAIN AND SUFFERING AND THAT’S THE ONLY EXPLANATION WE GET??? HORRENDOUS!

[Spoilers End]

From left to right: Book covers of I Upended Yet Another Campus Urban Legend and Supernatural Movie Actor App

2. Instances

Also known as “copy.” The other world/dimension where players have to face the different challenges.

The Authority may be the foundation, but the Instances are the defining aspect of the Unlimited Flow.

A lot of novels, however, are quite perfunctory when it comes to instances, just using it to further the main couple or as a mere stepping stone to the overarching plot. Or, if they’re not being perfunctory, then the Instances are just plain boring.

The first instance, especially, tend to be the most boring. Authors often use this to dump all the information about how their unli flow works. This usually gets better by the time the 2nd or 3rd instance comes around....

Upon successful completion of an Instance, players will then be rewarded with either points, special abilities, magic items, etc.

Examples of novels with GREAT instances (based on logic, thrill, horror, etc. Again, all in my own opinion):

I Became a God in a Horror Game: The horror is present all throughout. I can still remember the fear I felt while reading about the statues in the first Instance. Each instance/arc also emotionally impacts you, an effect that most Unli Flow writers don’t really aim for or just generally tend to fail at. (This is also my favorite unli flow novel at the moment~)

The Earth is Online: (same author as Fourth Perspective, which I’ve posted a lot about before) What I love about Mo Chen Huan, the author, is how they write intelligent MC’s but without making them seem too OP. And this is because she actually shows us the MC’s thought process, inviting us to think along with them and figure out how to solve the challenge, and not just make her characters say “aha!” This is what makes the Instances in TEIO great and memorable.

High Energy QR Code: The story could make use of more showing than telling, but I actually love the Instances in this novel. You know how good stories are often described as a well-made tapestry in that every little thread contributes to the big beautiful picture? That’s how each Instance reads in this novel. (Absolutely love the Instance about the town where everybody lies.)

Fu Wendou, the male lead of The Earth is Online

3. NPCs

A gaming term which stands for “Non-Player Character.” Refers to characters who live within Instances and act in such ways that further the plot or challenge presented by the Instance. They may go against players or assist them. May or may not have a will of their own.

Examples of NPCs:

Xu Beijin, the protagonist of Being an Extra Actor in an Escape Game

Lu Chu, the protagonist of Insider.

The iconic Mosaic from The Earth is Online

The male leads from Escape the Infinite Chamber, I Became a God in a Horror Game, Killing God with Junk Cards, etc. (Most danmei ML are special!NPCs 😩)

From left to right: Book covers of Being an Extra Actor in an Escape Game and Killing God with Junk Cards

4. Player Hall

A space outside of instances where different players can gather and exchange information. Most of the time, this is in a space still separate from the real world. Players are often prohibited from using their powers in this space.

In some novels, Players have no choice but to live here, completely cutting them off from the real world. In this case, accommodation quality will depend on the Player’s level or points.

5. Personal System

The Personal System issues challenges to the player and keeps track of their current attributes, physical and mental states, etc.. It also calculates rewards and punishments for the player. First and foremost in service to The Authority. (If they aren’t, then they’re most likely the Love Interest in disguise. If not, the Player had somehow swayed it to their side).

6. System Store

The points earned from the different Instances serve as the Players’ currency, and they can use it to buy things from the System Store. The Store may sell weapons, medicine, magical items, or even special abilities. Basically, any item that can help the Player during Instances. Of course, it may also sell non-magical items, like food and everyday items, at a much lower price than special items.

7. Player’s Goal/Wish

In some novels, the Goal is simply to clear all the Instances and leave the Unli Flow for good. But in others, the Unli Flow allows Players to exchange their points for a Wish. The more difficult the Wish, the more points are needed, and the more Instances are needed to be cleared.

Examples of a Goal/Wish:

Supernatural Movie Actor App: Xie Chi wants to give his second personality a body of his own.

I Became a God in a Horror Game: If I’m remembering it correctly… Bai Liu just wants to have lots of money.

I Upended Yet Another Campus Urban Legend: Lin Yi wants to learn the truth about his parents.

Thriller Tour Group: Wei Xun wants to find the truth about his family’s disappearance… and his Wish is to uhh… feel pain?

After the Little Crybaby Enters the Nightmare Cycle: Chi Nan’s Wish is to regain his vision, stop crying and get his memories back.

Death Spiral: To uhh… figure out what the voice in the Elevator is trying to tell them? To regain their memories? [The actual Wish is a big spoiler, so I won’t mention it here.]

From left to right: Book covers of After the Little Crybaby Enters the Nightmare Cycle, Thriller Tour Group, and Death Spiral

Aaaand there you have it! I was hoping to list 10 elements, but I can only think up to 7 😔

Although I said this post is a rec list of sorts, the quality of the novels I mentioned actually varies. I’m just listing whatever novel would be good as an example (and also what I can remember and have more or less completed, since many of the Unli Flow novels I’m reading are currently on-hold).

[empty-movement]

sorry but please... post your akio plastic covered couch tweet here... the world needs to know...

Warning: pics of gross shit happening on the couches

I'll do you one better and include the STORY! So, I, Vanna (note: Yasha mostly does the Tumblr and I mostly do the Twitter,) was smoking enough weed to knock out a large horse or put a very tiny dent in my constant back and shoulder pain, as one does when when they're a middle-aged Registered Nurse in the year 2023. (I'm 39 but it's an old 39, lmao.)

Scrolling through Twitter, I stumble on a fanart of Suletta from Witch of Mercury sitting goofily on a white couch. Now I haven't seen this show yet, but the white couch....looked familiar, and I know the show is very much a descendent of Utena in terms of creative teams. For those that don't know, the series is written by Ichirō Ōkouchi, who also wrote the two Revolutionary Girl Utena novelizations...which if you didn't know about before, you know about now, and can read translated on our site here! (Warning: Touga and Miki uh, in the novels...)

Anyways, so I hop onto my own website and start downloading the images that will constitute receipts, before realizing 1. these images are all on multiple computers feet away from me, 2. the couch isn't an identical match, 3. that'd have been weird anyway, and most importantly, 4:

AKIO'S COUCHES DON'T LOOK RIGHT. OBSERVE:

The edges of the armrests have sloppier upholstery than the blanket I have covering my computer desk. I took the time to tuck seams at least. What is this??

Now it could absolutely be leather, I thought. It would absolutely track. But leather upholstery doesn't look like this. It doesn't wrinkle quite this way. It would have cleaner seams.

No. No that's too shiny for leather. So here I am, presented with this strangeness I'd never really considered in how Akio's couch is drawn, and having spent the last few months learning about my Italian-American family history, my chemically altered ass came to the only reasonable conclusion:

Akio Ohtori has plastic coverings on his white couches, like he's a depression era American in poverty.

Fuck yeah, I though, A HIT TWEET, there, at the end of all Tweeting things. (Yeah I'm working on that, stay tuned, lmao. I of all people know when to bail on stupid men with stupid power.) Because I am me, I framed it as semi serious by pulling a context to explain it out of my ass:

I was joking.

But the replies? They were not. And then I thought about it some more. And I've kept thinking about it. Do I seriously think Ikuhara and Co literally are intentionally drawing a plastic covered couch? Doesn't that feel, Vanna, like a bit of a stretch, even for Utena meta?

Listen to that CRONCH when Akio sits down in episode 31, before Anthy is seen by Nanami. Look, the buttons on the back rest don't quite fit, but the rest? Yeah it kinda does. I was high, but not wrong!?

Akio *does* surround himself with a bizarre hodgepodge of Americana as an aesthetic. The arm garters. The piping and cut of his cowboy-ass shirt. His American car. His mullet. His miniature fucking golf. Why not the plastic covered couch? It's a trope of American poverty that would absolutely have fallen neatly into the diet of American pop culture that influenced Ikuhara. (He makes references to E.T. and The Godfather and Suspiria and all kinds of things in his other work, Utena itself is a little less obvious with individual references but inherits HUGE amounts of vibes from the same content--Ikuhara and Co watched Lost Highway in theaters during the production of the Akio Arc and I will not be convinced otherwise.)

So yeah. That's the story, and that's the theory. Do I seriously believe it was deliberate? Maybe. Probably. Possibly. But it fits so well it's headcanon for me, and in the Utena fandom, pretty much all canon is kind of headcanon so enjoy this one.

What an asshole.