#i hate seeing a huge problem & either no one else sees it or they do but just don't care because they don't think it's a problem

[pa-pa-plasma]

one of the things that will always destroy me is people believing that good story = darker/more mature/more sexual. this belief has ruined so many stories that could have been amazing & has prevented almost everyone from enjoying other really good stories simply because the age range it's aimed at is one they believe can't have complex themes, characters, plot, etc etc. they don't believe they can be moved by something a publisher or studio decided is for kids & so write it off without even thinking about it. biggest curse of being a writer who actually loves stories & telling them is that literally no one else cares in the most pessimistic, higher-than-thou, capitalism brainrot way you can imagine. & it's all automatic. because that's just what you're taught.

[arolesbianism]

Shakes the bars of my cage I need to draw soooo bad I need to draw I need to draw let me draw I have to draw I need to draw I must draw (<- has been too sick to be on electronics much and doesn't like doing traditional art)

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 3 (use whole signs)

🎀 For a lot of people with moon in 7th house, their mother had a huge impact on their personality (in a good or bad way). They'll either admire her a lot and try to be more like her or, do their best to not be like her. Their mother usually has a lot of say in who they marry. If the ascendant lord is not strong, then these people completely change after marriage and start to behave in a way in which their spouse would like them to.

🐈‍⬛Saturn in 9th house people can be really good when it comes to their career, they end up getting promoted earlier than others, but I've noticed that they prefer to work alone. It's like, they create something, but they would like someone else to market and sell it since communication is not their strong suit. Can be very introverted, not the best at taking initiatives, are very prone to undermining themselves.

🎀 moon in 11th house people have a really good relationship with their kids (unless it's debilitated). It doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl, it's the same for both. They're the parents who have a very "chill" relationship with their kids, their kids trust them a lot, treat them as a friend. All my friends who have a great and healthy relationship with their parents, 85% of those parents had moon in 11th.

🐈‍⬛ Mars in 5th house people have such an "interesting" dating life; love triangles, friends with benefits, they've (or will) experienced it all. The people to say "it's complicated" when you ask them about their love life. But I've also seen that these people are very accepting of other people's dating preferences, this is one of the things that I really admire about them, this can result in them having a very diverse group of friends.

🎀 Jupiter aspecting ascendant/midheaven is one of the best placements that you could possibly have. I was going through celebrities' charts and I noticed that the ones who were exceptionally popular or rich had this like 90% of the time. With opposition and square it can indicate that people hate you at first, but then some info comes out and suddenly everyone loves you, but you gotta go through the hate first. Conjunction can go either way depending on the sign.

🐈‍⬛ Saturn in 4th house women have my full respect, like, these people go through so much shit in their life and yet they're so hardworking and never give up. Their mother was probably their worst enemy growing up. If you know someone who has this, give them a hug, they're carrying so much burden, and yet they never show it. You'll never hear these people complaining about life, have a very, "it's okay, problems come and go, you can't be sad all the time" mentality.

🎀 Sun in 1st house people make me so angry, I don't get along with them. They have such a shitty personality, and always wanna fight for absolutely no reason. Start a beef out of nowhere, but they are so fucking good at their job, that's actually what makes me hate them more. My class representative has this, and she's such a bitch, but she's so responsible, it breaks my fucking heart, can't even complain 😔

🐈‍⬛ Mercury in 11th house people have unmatched Rizz, will charm the pants off you (unless it's debilitated). I'm so jealous of people who have this. I know people with this, who are not conventionally attractive but their charm is what makes people like them. I never knew what it meant to be attracted to someone's personality until I met someone who had this. (I know this sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it's really not)

🎀 I have never in my life met a moon in 8th house person who was like....okay. these people will have a mental breakdown almost every week. Can't take criticism AT ALL. I have seen that people with this have a tendency to date whoever they see once they break up, just to show their ex how "wanted" they are, and it's not healthy because a lot of their hook ups have bad intentions. Have a habit of playing the victim "everyone bullies me 🥺" "I have the hardest life" and blah blah. On a positive note, they can handle fame really well because of their ability to manipulate people, once you get in their trap and start liking them, you'll never be able to hate them.

🐈‍⬛ I never see people talking about how smart Venus in 3rd house people are. I'm always so amazed by the way they carry conversations. A lot of women who have won beauty paegents have this because of how nice their answers were. A lot of young politicians have this as well. Their juniors often look up to them.

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Zatanna

I think Marvel and Zatanna would have a wonderful funny haha father/brother-sister/daughter duo. Magic and Magic. Why not?

Zatanna and Marvel: *both talking*

Zatanna: “I’m just missing this one ingredient for a spell! Hyancinth nectar.”

Marvel: “Hyancinth nectar?” *reaches into pocket dimension to see if he has any before coming up short* “I don’t seem to have any. Well, I’m sure you could find some at the upcoming farmers market in Fawcett.” *shrugs*

Zatanna: “Farmer’s market? Is it like a magical farmers market…?”

Marvel: “Yes actually! I could take you with me if you wanted.”

Zatanna: *thinks that being with the Champion of Magic might help her get better deals on stuff* “I’ll take you up on that!”

The Day of the Farmer’s Market…

Zatanna: “Oh! I’ve been looking for Wrackwort Bulbs!” *trades vendor for them*

Marvel: *holding two huge bags with smaller bags full of ingredients in them*

Zatanna: *puts a bag of Wrackwort Bulbs into one of the bigger bags*

Marvel: “I thought you just wanted Hyancinth Nectar?”

Zatanna: “I can’t add a few more things to my cart on the way?”

Marvel: “I’m not saying you can’t but…”

Zatanna: “But nothing.” *does a little levitation spell to float up and pat his head before spinning around still floating* “Emetic Wax! I need some of that too!”

Marvel: *pulls her back down by the back of her shirt before muttering a counterspell to make her stop levitating*

Zatanna: *jogs over to the vendor selling the wax*

Marvel: *follows after her just happy to see her happy*

or

Zatanna: *making Marvel try on a bunch of outfits* “Work it!”

Marvel: *is in fact, albeit awkwardly, working it*

Zatanna: *chuckling* “I don’t even see why you agreed to this.”

Marvel: *shrugs*

Zatanna: *magics another outfit onto him* “Well I gotta thank you. I didn’t get much of this as a kid.”

Marvel: “Why didn’t you get much of it? You didn’t care for it or something?”

Zatanna: “Uhm… Not exactly.” *unsure whether she should tell Marvel* “When I was younger, my dad uh… had an alcohol problem. By the time he sobered up, I was too old for this stuff.” *awkward*

Marvel: *also awkward* “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Zatanna: “It’s fine. It’s not like I hate my dad for it. He was just going through a tough time. I still love him. I honestly don’t know why you’re apologizing. It’s not like it’s your fault.”

Marvel: *stares for a bit* You know, I’m fine doing this with you even if you’re too old right? I uh… never really got to do stuff like this with my parents either. Maybe I did, but I don’t remember. When I was 8, they died.” *awkwardly pauses cause he doesn’t know whether it was a good idea to share that or not* “But, it’s just, since I didn’t get to do it, and you didn’t get to either, I want to. Cause everyone has to play dress up with someone else at least once in their life, right? So, yeah. I’m fine doing kiddie stuff like this.” *extremely awkward as he says this*

Zatanna: *processing all that information* “I uh… I see.” *magics Marvel into another outfit*

Marvel: “A tiger onesie?” *looks down at the outfit*

Zatanna: *while he’s looking away, rubs at her eyes to hide any tears* “Yeah, a tiger onesie. It fits you.”

Marvel: *now confused* “It does?”

Zatanna: “Yeah, you give off the vibes.”

or

A video of a beam almost falling on the audience of one of Zatanna’s shows goes viral.

Marvel: “Wait, so that wasn’t planned?”

Zatanna: “Nope.”

Marvel: “And you just saved them like that…?You’re amazing!”

Zatanna: *preens at the praise* “I know.”

Marvel: “No, Zatanna, I’m being super serious! You’re an awesome hero.” *blinding smile*

I don’t know why but I love it whenever a person a little more than half the size of another person bullies the bigger person. Also, as for the alcoholic thing, it wasn’t really mentioned on the wiki whether or not it affected her badly, but she not only had her dad as her only parent, but he was an alcoholic. It could’ve affected her.

[wcnderlnds]

loser of the year | peter maximoff

SUMMARY: peter thinks you hate him because you avoid him at all costs but he soon figures out why. WORD COUNT: 1243 WARNINGS: none! brief mention of she/her A/N: i couldn't think of a name so spotify did me a solid and played my fave simple plan song and i rolled with it.

Peter couldn’t understand it. Days, heck, weeks had been spent with him trying to figure out what he’d done wrong for you to constantly avoid him but he was coming up blank. Nada. So, if he hadn’t done anything then what was the reason? Why did you always avoid him in the hallways? Why would you always make an excuse to leave whenever he came over when you were talking to Scott or Jean? It absolutely baffled him. Drove him insane actually. Once Peter got something in his little speedster head, he tended to obsess over it. He also didn’t like when he couldn’t figure something out. And, you were the biggest puzzle of all.

It happened again one day when you were sitting in the common room of the mansion. Lazily, you were laying across the couch, legs dangling over the arm while your head rested on the other side. Scott was sitting in the chair next to you, the two of you chatting about Logan’s latest lecture. Peter had been speeding through the hallways causing his trouble like always when he came to halt hearing your voice.

He jumped into the free chair on the other side of the couch, blowing a bubble with the gum in his mouth. “What’re we talking about?”

“I have to go,” you mumbled as you got to your feet. “See you later, Scott.”

Once you left, Peter scoffed, arms crossing over his chest like a spoiled child. “What’s her problem?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“She hates me, dude. I don’t even know what I’ve done,” Peter threw his hands up in the air, his frustration more than evident.

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“Pfft, yeah right. That’s why she always leaves whenever I show up. Whatever, doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Completely fine. I don’t want to talk to her anyway.”

It wasn’t like you wanted to avoid Peter – you really didn’t but you didn’t know what else to do. Usually, you were this confident person who could strike up a conversation with anyone. The easiest thing in the world for you was to make friends but when it came to Peter that all flew out of the window. He made you nervous. One look at him and you were flustered. It was like you lost your tongue, you couldn’t speak a word to him or even look at him unless you wanted to look like a human tomato. It was a problem – a huge problem.

Of course, you’d had crushes before. Many times but this was different. Never had you been so flustered by someone that you couldn’t stand to be around them. This was all new for you. Sure, Peter was attractive. He was probably one of the most attractive guys you’d ever laid your eyes on but what really drew you to him was his personality. He was so fun, carefree. Everything seemed like it was one big adventure with him. Not that you’d really had a full conversation with him but you’d seen how he acted during training. Scott had told you many stories about Peter. It really seemed like everyone loved him. Sure, maybe he came across a little annoying at times but you found that endearing.

Lost in thought, you were walking through the hallway, a book in hand. It wasn’t until you were hit by a brick wall - or what felt like a brick wall at least anyway - and knocked to the floor when you came back to reality. Your eyes instantly bore into Peter’s who had managed to knock the two of you down to the floor, his body laying on top of yours. His hands braced either side of your head so he didn’t completely crush you.

“Oop, my bad.”

Your cheeks instantly turned red at his nonchalance. How could he be so collected when his body was literally pinning yours to the floor? 

“Wasn’t paying attention,” he added.

Okay, so, he knew he should get off you. He knew he should get up and let you go on your way but this was the first time he’d got to speak to you without you instantly rushing off. What was a few more minutes pressed together on the floor? He looked at your face, your eyes avoiding his now, the faint tint of pink on your cheeks. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you squeaked out. Suddenly, you forgot how to breathe.

“What’s your issue?” Peter blurted out.

“What?”

“With me? Why’d you act like I’m the walking plague and avoid me at all costs? If I said somethin’ to ya at some point then I’m sorry but I’ve been wracking my brain and I don’t think I have.”

“I…” The words got lost on your tongue. ‘Seriously, get it together, brain,’ you thought. “You didn’t.”

Peter scrunched his face. “Then what is it? What’d I do to you?”

With his face so close to yours, his body pressing into you so you could feel every part of him, it was like someone had removed your brain from your head. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in there. “Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed as he noticed you avoiding his gaze at all costs. Then, it hit him. The way you couldn’t look at him, the blush on your cheeks. You liked him. A smirk graced that stupidly handsome face of his as he finally got off you, holding his hand out to help you up. Of course, you took it. His hand felt warm in yours, a little sweaty but you figured that was just because he had spent five minutes in that compromising position with you.

“You like me,” he pointed accusingly at you. His tone was smug. So damn smug.

“Wh-what? No!” A bold face lie.

“That’s why you avoid me. You got yourself a little crush on ol’ Quickie. I mean, who can blame you?” His grin lit up his whole face.

Now you really were flustered. Credit had to be given – he’d figured you out within five minutes of being around you and that was exactly why you had wanted to avoid being anywhere near him. This was going down as one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Your hands went to cover your face that was now burning hot. 

Peter shoved his hands in jacket pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “S’cool, babe. Think you’re pretty cute too.”

That made you peer at him through your fingers. “Really?”

“Yeah when you’re not avoiding me anyway.”

“Sorry.”

He waved his hand at you to dismiss your apology. “All good. I’ma need you to stop running away everytime you see me, though.”

You nodded, bringing your hands away from your face. Suppose that was something you could do now you’d broke the ice. Or, well, Peter had broken the ice. You’d done nothing but say five words and break the world record for blushing. “Okay, yeah but… uh, I do have to go. Um… need to return this book.”

He stepped out of your way, letting you pass. As you walked away, he called after you with that shit-eating grin still on his face. “See ya, cutie. Might ask you on a date next time I see you if it doesn’t make you spontaneously combust.”

Peter snickered to himself, feeling pretty confident with himself as he walked away. Meanwhile you were sure you were about to melt into a puddle on the floor.

[in-loving-memory-of]

Takashi Morinozuka x fem reader -> crush/early dating stage head-canons (sfw)

honestly, i fuckn hate hcs, but i’m gonna put them out there anyway, since mine are simply better cuz i said so

- Takashi isn’t the type of guy to just go up to a girl and ask her out because he thinks she’s cute or anything, so you would 100% have to start off as friends before he made a move (and even then, you’d probably be waiting a while)

- Probably would not initiate a conversation with you on his own (shocking)

- I could see Honey noticing Takashi’s special interest in a girl and deciding to talk to her, and maybe even invite her to the club

- If he did this with Takashi present, he’d be super nervous but secretly grateful that his cousin set him up, cuz lord knows it wouldn’t have happened otherwise

- Once Honey had Takashi’s crush engaged in a conversation, he’d start trying to, not so subtly, gauge whether or not she’s a good fit for Takashi

- If Honey doesn’t like you, then you don’t get to be with Takashi, period.

- If anyone asks at any point during your friendship if Takashi has feelings for you, he’ll either outright deny it or just stay silent, even though it’d be super obvious to anyone who knows him to any capacity

- He would be more engaged in conversations with you than anyone else, MAYBE aside from Honey

- He’d help with anything he thought you may be struggling with (you don’t even have to ask)

- Need help finding something? He’s got you. Pickle jar too hard to open? No problem. Can’t reach something on a high shelf? Well, thank god a certain giant has nothing better to do (he was just admiring you anyway)

- Once the club catches on, any possible privacy the two of you had is gone. Especially if they can tell the feelings are reciprocated

- Tamaki, the twins, and Honey would all try to get the both of you into situations where you’d be alone together, or they’d talk about how cute you would be together, or how cute your kids would be, etc.

- Even before a relationship begins, Takashi will think it’s disloyal or unfaithful to interact flirt with any other girls, so he would be extra quiet during club hours (unless you’re there 🥰)

- Speaking of relationships, when Takashi does finally ask you out, expect it to be a simple question, such as: “Would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow?” or something similar. He’d probably do so when you two are completely alone (mostly so the other club members don’t try to trail you on your date)

- If the date went well, and he felt like you were interested afterwards, that’s when he’d ask you to be his girlfriend.

- The poor guy’s heart would be pounding out of his chest and he’d be blushing like crazy, which would only get worse when if you said yes

- Once you’re official, any reservations he previously had regarding closeness are gone. He wants to hold your hand and just be near you all the time

- He’s not into the PDA shit, though. It’s not like he’d pull you into a make out sesh in public, but he does like to be near you at all times

- Honey absolutely loves that Takashi found someone he truly cares for, especially since he thinks you’re fun to be around, so he and Takashi can still be close as ever

- The other members (mainly Tamaki) are ecstatic about the relationship as well

- Seeing their normally stoic friend all head over heals for you is just too sweet

- Once you start dating, it isn’t long before he wants you over to meet his parents and vice versa

- He doesn’t even see it as a huge step or anything. I mean, of course he wants his family to meet his darling partner

———————————————————————

Alright, I’m gonna call this a part one, and basically just write others to be more tailored to a reader with specific personality traits, cuz writing so vaguely is driving me insane.

(I have no writing experience, but I promise I’ll try harder next time, so hopefully they’ll get better after this 😭)

If there’s anything specific you want to see, feel free to request headcanons or fics for Takashi (or any of the other characters for that matter), as that’ll make it way easier to write something worthwhile lmao

[redsrooftopprincess]

Could you do anymore headcannos for the tmnt 2014/2016 boys? Idc what the headcannon is but I love it hc so much

Sleeping Headcanons

Headcanons you say? Let's get into it!

Warnings: mental health, drugs/alcohol

We spend nearly half of our lives asleep, and the boys are no different! They're a little backwards, being basically nocturnal, but they sleep (and struggle to), just like anybody else.

Leo

Bed. Leo is a traditionalist and sleeps on a firm Japanese Futon. He sleeps on his plastron because that's the most practical. He's usually on his side, hugging a pillow, by morning.

Temperament. Even as always, unless he has a migraine, then he's in his room the second he gets home. Dark and quiet. If someone disturbs him, he'll get up and address whatever it is that needs seeing to, but don't expect conversation. However, he *is* a morning person! They all hate him until about 10 am.

Routine. If he has a headache he'll usually have no choice but to just lay down the second he's off the clock. If he doesn't, he has a very strict routine that is *always* adhered to, or he can't sleep (no, that's not a joke):

Tea (usually jasmine) with Dad while processing the day.

Shower.

Teeth.

Undress.

Meditate for 30 minutes.

Sleep.

The morning is much the same but in reverse:

Wake up.

Meditate for 15 minutes.

Get dressed.

Downstairs for coffee/breakfast/discussing the day with Dad.

Training.

Sleeping with a partner. Having someone around to upset his routine is ROUGH. Don't ask to sleep in his bed. Seriously, don't. Sharing *his space* is a HUGE step for him and if you push it, it'll just take longer. He'll start small, inviting you into his room for tea. Be PATIENT with the boy. Once you start sleeping in his bed it'll take him a while to get used to it. The first few times he doesn't sleep. But eventually, you worm your way into his routine, and he can't sleep without you. Until then, he will happily hold you until you fall asleep, even stay watching over you until morning. But he won't sleep.

Mikey

Bed. Pillow pile! He started collecting pillows as a kid to add to his hoard, which is now comically large and takes up 1/3 of his room. He loves the weird ones and has ones with tassles and beads and insane shapes. It's actually pretty impressive and could probably double as a modern art piece!

Temperament. It's all good! No matter what state he's in, he's always the life of the party. Always.

Routine. He's usually parked in front of the TV until everyone disperses (video games/tv/ect). Then, depending on how hard his depression is hitting that night, he'll either grab a bong (hard) or a bottle (harder). He'll drink in his room , but he'll skate down one of the south tunnels to smoke because he doesn't want to hear about it from Leo. Splinter knows about the weed, but doesn't have a problem with it, because it really does seem to help. He would, however, have a problem with the liquor. Once Mike is thoroughly gone, he tosses himself on his pillow pile and attempts to pass out. Sometimes he does. He gets hangovers from the alcohol, but the second he wakes up that mask is firmly back in place and he's good to go! 😃

Sleeping with a partner. ALL. THE. CUDDLES. Expect him not to let go. Like, pee beforehand. He may not be as big as his brothers, but he's still pretty damn heavy. You are HIS Angel. You are HIS miracle. And you aren't going ANYwhere. Lots of nuzzling/scent marking, LOTS of churring, and when he does eventually fall asleep, he snores like a diesel engine. Just poke him in the side and he'll shut up.

Don

Bed. What's a bed? You mean the cot in his lab? On the rare occasion that *someone* convinces him to actually sleep in a bed, it's pretty much whatever bed or bed-adjacent thing they bring him to. By the time he's tired enough that he can be convinced, he's too far gone to care.

Temperament. When Donnie is tired, expect to be snapped at. He'll apologize immediately, but his temper is a hair trigger when he needs sleep. And my dude goes until he stops. Don's body wakes up before he does. Expect mumbled one-word answers that may or may not make sense as he gradually comes to consciousness over the next half-hour.

Routine. Donnie doesn't make the decision to go to bed. He just wakes up and it's later. When he does wake up, his body has been conditioned to perform all the necessary morning tasks without him having to actually be fully conscious. Sit up. Grab freshly brewed espresso from desk next to cot. Shotgun espresso. Wrap joints. Stand up. Go to kitchen for second cup of coffee (because Raph has already brewed a pot, and because at some point in his teenage years, his father insisted on seeing him at least once a day). Make/drink coffee. Eat the closest edible thing. Go back to the lab. By this point, his conscious mind has usually kicked in and he can get back to work.

Sleeping with a partner. I hope you like to be lulled to sleep by computer fans! You'll get used to the phrase, "go and lie down, Dove. I'll just be a minute." It's always a lie. You know it. He knows it. The wall of computer towers behind you knows it. But he does the song and dance, anyway, because he thinks it makes you feel better. It doesn't. If he does happen to fall asleep with you, of COURSE he's the big spoon. He wraps himself around you and holds you as close as he can (he's still working on getting past all those pesky air molecules), with his beak buried in your hair so that he can breathe you in as he falls asleep (at least the air molecules are good for something).

Raph

Bed. My guy is BIG, and needs a ton of support. A traditional flat mattress is uncomfortable unless he sleeps on his plastron which he HATES doing. His carapace is HEAVY, and it feels like he's literally being crushed under his own weight. Besides, he's in enough pain when he wakes up, and as much as he loves working out, he really doesn't want to have to do pushups first thing in the morning. Instead, he has a carbon fiber hammock that he wove himself. It hangs from a reach stacker arm modified with two lifting jacks bolted to the floor, all "liberated" from the shipyard. It supports all of him with the added benefit of pressure on all sides due to his weight, which helps him sleep, especially when he's in a low.

Temperament. When he's tired he's a grump. He's not quick to anger, but expect a lot of grumbling and begrudging acquiescence to things. He doesn't usually push it too far before heading to bed, because let's face it, pain is exhausting, and if he's laying down he's not having to hold himself up. He's not a "morning person," but he's usually okay as long as he knows there's a cup of coffee in his near future.

Routine. Pretty standard. Shower, teeth, etc. Once in bed, he'll mess around on his phone for a while, watching movies/tv/anime, before eventually falling asleep. In the morning, he rolls out of his hammock and heads to the kitchen for coffee with his Dad before everyone else emerges. After that it's his morning workout and he starts the day. Honestly the mostly boring/normal out of all of them.

Sleeping with a partner. He won't sleep in your bed. He just won't. Don't ask. He'll hold you until you fall asleep, no question, but he won't stay. The only hope for a sleepover is at his place. He likes to give you a big hug around the middle and roll into the hammock with you, and it always leaves you giggling as you snuggle up against his plastron. That's when he sleeps best, with you laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around you. Not only is it added pressure, but this way he knows you're safe.

.......

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 1 |

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna.

Warnings: Mean!Satoru, he calls the reader worthless, public!humiliation. Etc. The reader ain’t no pussy either by the way. They fight back.

New chapter every week | Comment down if you want to be tagged. ^^

First day of school, High-school… you had jitters and excitement both, just thinking about it. When your alarm beeped, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought alone. Quickly rushing to the rest-room, washing your face, brushing your teeth, doing your skincare & taking your sweet time thinking about how your first day of school would be.

Your parents, thankfully have recently shifted to Tokyo, you don’t really have any bad memories from where you lived previously, and assuming the best should be the solution to everything in life, right? You had picked what to wear previously, knee length socks on a mini tennis skorts, patched up with a white full T-shirt with gloves for your thumb.

You rushed downstairs for breakfast, sitting with your family & then quickly rushing out. Your mom small talked about your excitement along with your brother, you nodded, grinning wide. “Yeah, yeah… really am excited!” You chirped, getting all the makeup essentials and school essentials ready in your bag.

Once you were out and about, reaching the highschool premises on time. You were awestruck, there were people swarming all over. Focussed on what they’re wearing, focussed on exclusive friend-groups, some of them were vlogging, some of them patting face powder on their faces. Oh damn… they were just being problematic it seemed. You weren’t close to being a conventional teen at all, not that you weren’t a teen at all. You hummed, managing to diverse your attention towards the highschool building, it was huge. So many people, so much…

“Oop- sorry” you bumped into someone… tall. Eyes traversing through his form as he looked down at you, nudging his black glasses down and smirking. Oh fucking hell… he had the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen. The way he smirked, looking at you as if you’re a tiny, minuscule creature at his mercy. You weren’t used to that kind of a gaze at all. “Your name?” He said as if he’s conquered you. You hate people who talk like that.

Taken aback and batting your lashes at him, you mumbled… “Y/N.”

He smirked, licking his lips with his teeth. “Satoru Gojo, your senior. My dad’s a trustee of this school & I am pretty much the second owner.” He leaned in, bending over to get to your eye level as you cowered at the weird vibe & introduction. “Say sorry that you bumped into me.” He smirked, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“It was by mistake — I don’t see why I should say sorry to you.” You managed to speak clearly, ensuring you were polite. The people/minions surrounding him laughed at your audacity. No one tells him shit. This was something new… apart from Suguru Geto; his best friend. Satoru Gojo’s words were the law. He has no problem beating the shit out of people who don’t listen. There’s a rumor that because of him, someone had tried to commit suicide. Just because Satoru didn’t like them, so… nobody else did.

Satoru raised a brow, smirking. “Ah, you’re new. I’ll let this one go. Let me rephrase, okay sweetheart?” He leaned in, hand touching your face with one hand. “C’mon, use that worthless mouth for something good & say sorry. Right. Now.” His jaw twitched, the hold not tender in any way. You flinched, why was no one stopping him! Where were the bloody teachers! Your pupils vibrated as you glanced at his blue eyes. You want to tell him to piss off so bad. Yet, you can’t really do that because of the way he’s puckered your lips up. Neither can you apologize.

“Can’t speak?” He shook your face to a nod, getting his own answers, while you groaned. Red hot embarrassment flushing on your cheeks. “Are you a little dumb bitch?” He forced a nod again, everyone laughing. “Aww, I know you are. So honest.” He chuckled, just having a little fun out of you. Frankly, he never knew why he was so mean… or just stomping everyone. Maybe he has this inherent habit of being worshipped & a problematic intolerance towards people who don’t.

Your eyes prickled with tears, and he finally let your face go, a little push to his hold. “Should’ve just apologized, don’t like bein’ mean to pretty girls.” He winked, walking away.

You felt daggered by multiple, hot & burning judgemental gazes around. Kudos to your first day of Highschool. You excused yourself to the rest-room. You needed a breather… and you wanted to cry, and kill him…

“That was a little too much.” Geto hummed, walking alongside him with his usual close-eyed smirk. Satoru waved his hand dismissively. “Eh, her eyes were so rebellious I hated that.” He growled, scoffing. It was true… but you didn’t know how much that’ll land you in trouble in future.

The class was good, teachers yapping and teaching & you taking notes was the perfect scenario for you to distract yourself. Then, came lunch time.

There was a pink-haired girl, gorgeous and happy-go-lucky looking… you decided to approach her and wave. “Oh hey!” She glanced at you and smiled. “Hey! You must be the girl who pissed Gojo senpai off.” She chuckled, though you sense no malice in her tone. Wow, so that’s become your new identity eh? You hate this… “yeah, Haha… that’d be me.” You decided to own that, “I was thinking if you wanna join me for, uh, lunch?” You perked up a little. You were upfront enough to ask a few others and they decided to have lunch with you.

You hate eating alone, and you were one of the new folks. The others just got promoted so it was hard to mingle. Luckily, your confidence might help.

You took your food, and walked back to the table, this time… someone again collided with you. The gravy of the food spilled all across their crisp white shirt.

“Oh shit oh I’m so sorry-” you looked up to find the familiar face who waxed you this morning. Did he collide with you on purpose? You definitely think so because you’re not so air-headed.

“Oh you just want to be an idiot all day huh?” Satoru sighed, one of the girls glaring at you and brining out a tissue, inching to clean him up. “Did I ask for that help sweetheart?” He smiled at her, indicating her to stop touching him. “Think you’ll earn brownie points and be popular?” He didn’t stop until she fully backed off, cleaning himself up.

It was like everyone had only one job, glancing at you two & waiting for you to suffer. Fucking hell!

“So, do you know how much this shit costs?” Satoru smirked, walking closer to you, you instinctively stepped backwards. “N-no I’m sorry I just didn’t think- it also felt like you bumped into me on purpose-”

“On purpose?” There was a chuckle laced with disbelief on his lips. “That’s too high and mighty of you to think. I don’t even let girls who look like you grind on my shoe, honey.” He emphasized, slapping your delusion. Or you can say, shoving the truth away.

People didn’t laugh this time, because Satoru looked genuinely pissed. Well, so were you. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” You held your plate close and purposely, drenched him even further in gravy. “Looks just as filthy as you deserve.” You teared up, gosh this was humiliating. “And by the way, I don’t even look at guys like you either. Who think the world revolves around them because mommy & daddy just stuffed their ass with money.”

You walked away with that… but was that the right thing to do? You just dug your grave deeper.

[beenbaanbuun]

enemies w/ wooyoung

“i can’t believe i have to share a room with you,” wooyoung spits as he dumps his bag on the floor at the side of his bed. he wastes no time in throwing himself down onto the matress, keeping a stern aye on you as you make your way inside, “out of all the people on this trip, its you.”

you scoff as you follow him, slamming the door in your wake. trust you to draw the same colour marble as him. jung fucking wooyoung. number 1 on your hit list ever since the very first time he pulled your hair in junior school. hatred may have been a strong word, but it wasn’t nearly strong enough for the way you feel about him.

and now you have to spend the next week of your life in a combined space with him. perhaps you’ve done something wrong that the universe is punishing you for. maybe it’s a curse, or some evil spirit messing with you. you’re not entirely sure, but either way you’re certain something is out for your blood.

“the couch is available if you want it,” you snarl, barely able to keep a modicum of civility when it comes to wooyoung. there’s just something about him that makes you so inexplicably mad, “you know, if you have that much of a problem with me.”

“i’m fine here, actually,” he puts his hands behind his head in a display of arrogance. it’s difficult not to go over there and slap it out of him as you move to sit on your own bed, “but you can go and sleep there if you want; you won’t find me stopping you.”

you scoff, “what exactly is your problem with me?”

it’s hypocritical of you to ask that, you know. if anyone has the problem, its you. you’re the one who’s always fought against him; eye rolls and back handed comments the only things you give him whenever he’s around you. and you’re the one who’s always arguing with him over the tiniest of things, even if you know deep down that he’s actually right. some days you can’t even find a reason behind your incessant need to hate him, but that never stops you.

he’s just so annoying.

“you’re a stuck up little princess,” wooyoung supplies with that cocky grin still spread across his face. god, what you wouldn’t do to wipe that away and put him in his place; it’s almost a desperate need that you have to knock him down a few pegs.

“anything else, youngie,” you throw the nickname at him like it’s an insult. he catches it effortlessly, chuckling at your attempt to throw him off.

“yes,” he pushes himself from the mattress, sitting himself up straight so he can look at you; look down at where you lay on the bed beside him. so cute, with your arms crossed over your chest in a petulant attempt to act tough in front of him. it doesn’t work, your little act. not with the way your arms push your tits together, making your cleavage look so fuckable. wooyoung’s dick twitches in his sweatpants, “most of my problems are about you, actually.”

cliche, you think as you roll your eyes; of course he thinks you’re the cause of all his problems. just because he doesn’t like you, doesn’t mean he has to blame everything on you.

still, you’re curious.

when he starts talking again, you’re all ears.

“like how you think you’re so tough when you’re being a condescending little brat, when actually it just makes me want to pull you over my lap and make you scream,” the words take a second to sink in, but when they do, your jaw drops. he smirks, “or when you bite your lips when you’re mad; it just makes me think about how pretty they’d look wrapped around my cock.”

you can’t help the way your eyes flicker to the crotch of his sweats. he’s hard, or halfway there at least. fucking huge too, by the looks of it. you dart out your tongue to lap at your dry lips. holy fuck, what’s happening to you.

“and do you know that i see these pretty little things in my dreams?” a single finger brushes gently over your nipple, hard and visible through the thin material of your t-shirt. you suck in a sharp breath, barely catching a moan before it slips out, “wake up covered in my own cum every single time. dream you is just such a good little slut for me.”

the hand that sits gently on your tit begins to move, climbing gently up your chest until it lands on your neck. he squeezes down lightly, your head spinning under the barely there pressure.

“it’s a shame real life you takes a little more taming, hm?” wooyoung drawls as he bends down to your level. warmth spreads across your face as your lifelong enemy blows a stream of cold air over your face, chuckling to himself when you shiver.

how the fuck had you let this happen? one second you’re sure you had the high ground, and the next you have a hand around your throat and wetness leaking from your pussy. part of you wants to fight back. spit in his face and push him away. set a boundary and let him know that this, whatever the fuck this is, will never happen.

what scares you is that an even bigger part of you is begging you to give in.

and it’s a really shame that you’ve never been very good at saying no to yourself. it makes it borderline impossible for you to listen to that ever-shrinking part of your brain that’s telling you to run.

“wooyoung,” you whisper, although youre not even sure of your next words yourself. you haven’t decided whether this is going to happen or not. whether you’re going to let him tame you like he so clearly wants to. you open your mouth, hoping to all that is holy that you make a good choice.

“what do you want, baby?”

“fuck me,” you say.

oh…

“such a good girl.”

[genderqueerdykes]

it irks me whenever i rent a book from the library and there are several page long rants about how trans mascs and men, masculine women and AFAB mascs and trans people have it easy, conveniently cutting out a massive portion of the community in order to make more room for someone else.

like why the hell is the first sentence anyone ever speaks when it comes to the transmasculine experience is "your problems don't matter." like from the get-go it completely guts our experience and leaves it out of the discussion altogether.

why?

why are we encouraging this silence? why are we encouraging people to say that these conversations don't need to take place? i was reading a biography by a very self-hating self-flagellating transmasculine person who spent most of their portion of the book talking about a trans woman they knew, and talking about how transmascs "take up too much space" and that we "have to many resources to the point of taking away from trans women".

why do people think that this is acceptable behavior? why would anyone want to be this self-hating while doing nothing to benefit someone else? in attempting to tell someone else's story, this person walked all over that woman's life by trying to tell her story for her. she lived a complex internal life that the author had no way to try to speak on. their job was to speak about themselves, and they refused to do so.

i don't want to see transmasculine people participate in self-erasure anymore. this has got to stop. we can't keep listening to the idea that we must remain small and silent in order to benefit ourselves and our community. this stems from the misogynistic behavior that people direct toward us either due to our AGABs or other factors surrounding our biology. much like perisex cis women, people want us to occupy as little space as possible, to not talk, to be unseen and unheard. this is a hand me down from patriarchy and we're doing no one favors by continuing this behavior

we can't keep doing this. the reason transmascs and men think they're insane or alone for identifying that way is because we keep perpetuating the idea that silencing ourselves is the only way to go about getting rights for our entire community.

i must ask: why is it us that has to make this sacrifice, but more importantly: why must any queer person have to make that sacrifice at all?

it is not necessary. every queer group deserves to speak on their experience. from the most specific microlabels to the huge communities that are the trans masculine and trans man communities, we need to include everyone or else we fail at our job of being a community altogether.

i don't want to see any transmascs participate in self erasure anymore. its not necessary. it's hurting us. and it's hurting questioning trans mascs and men, young and old, because they don't know where to turn to talk to someone about this. we can't keep enabling this behavior. it's not helping anyone. helping trans men and mascs helps the entire community. we have to take care of our own.

[fallinglikemagic]

Okay, now that everybody's had some time to process and gotten some of the doomposting out, here's my thoughts on the whole situation.

First of all, I'm not really worried about whether or not RWBY will continue in some capacity. It's uncertain, sure, but no more than it was already. In February we got the update that they were talking to potential partners about getting volume 10 made, so clearly they weren't just relying on Rooster Teeth and Warner Brothers for it - maybe one of those companies will pick it up, maybe a different company will, either way I'm sure it *will* be picked up by somebody and unless they get real unlucky, the show won't be much worse off than it was before - if anything it might be better off, considering that WB have been shitty about animation for quite a while now (if you're not already familiar and you're up for some extra research, I recommend looking into the Coyote vs ACME situation that's been going on recently for a great example of WB's bullshit). And while it's unclear exactly how much involvement the original crew will have in the show's future, I'm pretty optimistic about it. I doubt the writers are going to let go of creative control without a fight, if for nothing else then for Monty - I don't like focusing too much on the whole Monty's Legacy stuff in general, but I do think that the crew are going to want to keep their friend's work alive and authentic and as accurate to what he wanted it to be as possible. None of this is a certainty of course, but I think RWBY is gonna be fine, things will just be kinda rocky for a bit.

With all that being said, while this may end up ultimately being a blessing in disguise for RWBY as a franchise, it sure ain't one for everybody who worked at Rooster Teeth. This entire situation is still horrible - so many people being fired on the spot, effective immediately, with no warning and with several of them only finding out by seeing articles about it being posted on Twitter, it's fucked. I know Rooster Teeth wasn't exactly lacking in controversy and problematic behaviour, to put it lightly, but there were still plenty of amazing people there who are now in a really shitty situation. On top of that, while again this isn't exactly anything new, especially for WB, it is the latest instance of a huge problem in the animation and entertainment industries. So no matter how things pan out for RWBY, we should still be really fucking mad about this.

And we definitely shouldn't be celebrating. I've seen some posts saying "good riddance" and celebrating RT's downfall, not just from people who hate RWBY (I mean don't get me wrong I'm sure the hatedom is out in full force but that's not the kind of thing I'm referring to right now), but people who like/used to like the show and just hated the company. And don't get me wrong, I didn't like a lot of things about the company either, I've actually been wanting RWBY to separate itself from RT for a pretty long time (be careful what you wish for I guess 💀), but there's a time and a place and this certainly ain't it. Plenty of people who have worked there have said that they loved their jobs, plenty of others said it was horrible and toxic and nightmarish, but either way a job is a job and in this industry work isn't always easy to find, especially in recent years. Celebrate in private if you want, but now is not the damn time to be bringing out the cake and confetti.

TLDR; I'm cautiously optimistic about RWBY's future, I'm pretty sure it'll be fine and they'll be able to keep the core crew to at least some extent, but this is still a really bad situation for everybody who just lost their jobs, don't be a dick.

[flowerandblood]

Green Snake, Red Lion

[Slytherin • Aemond x Gryffindor • female]

[warnings: swearing, fluff, physical violence]

[description: Aemond is a Chaser and captain of the Slytherin team. His biggest rival on the pitch from the Gryffindor team, turned to be his biggest fan, and he hates her with all of his heart. His hatred towards her slowly turns into something else, when she one day stands up for his sister, Helaena. This is a slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond left his team's tent furiously. Slytherin lost to Gryffindor by only ten points, as none of the Seekers managed to catch the Golden Snitch before time. Even though Aemond wasn't the only Chaser, he was the captain and he couldn't stand that the opposing player that he had the biggest problem with was a petite, inconspicuous girl.

Solren was a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. She was slim and of slight build so she was fast, agile and light on the broom. It was hard to keep up with her.

She appeared and disappeared suddenly, knocking the Quaffle out of his hand. He was often brutal with her on the pitch, she had more than one strong collision with him which she paid with bruises. He hated her with all his heart.

Even though he repeatedly told his Beaters, his brother Aegon and Darec, to keep an eye on her, they couldn't keep up with her. She dodged the Bludger nimbly, flying remarkably on her broomstick.

She was able to do various stunts on it, much to the delight of the audience. Aemond looked at it with embarrassment. He thought that she was just showing off, trying to get the applause. Nevertheless, nothing annoyed him more than her behavior off the pitch.

He felt like there wasn't a person in the world who loved him more than she did. She praised his skills over, his speed on the broom and the power with which he could throw the Quaffle over the hoop from afar. She always cheered him on at all the Slytherin matches, except of course for those played against Gryffindor.

She never imposed herself on him like the girls who tried to sneak him a love potion drink, but the joy and optimism she felt when she was around him drove him crazy. Sometimes he wanted to punch her. He thought she was just stupid.

He rolled his eye impatiently, letting out a sound of frustration as he walked across the grass to the school grounds and saw Solren waving at him from afar.

She had a cotton swab up her nose, which was oozing blood, another reminder of the collision with him when she tried to take the Quaffle from him. He pursed his lips, thinking that even his elbow in her face didn't bring him victory.

"I'm going to the infirmary right now to see Madame Pomfery, because I think you broke my nose." She laughed a little, as if she was talking about something funny. He looked at her incredulously, not stopping, looking away, impatient.

"I don't know if it makes sense, because I'll probably break it again in the next match." He spoke teasingly and coldly.

She burst out laughing at his words, as if his attitude didn't scare her at all. She pursed her lips in an apparent attempt to contain herself, her eyebrows twitching in helpless amusement.

"Come on, why are you so aggressive. If I broke your nose, you wouldn't stop playing either." She said low, and he gave her a dispassionate look.

"Do you have to follow me?" He asked in frustration, wondering why, among such huge fields of free space, she had to be right next to him, talking to him. She raised an eyebrow at his words.

"I'm sorry that I'm going in the same direction." She muttered, feigning an offended tone, walking a few steps ahead of him, shooting him a defiant look. With a gauze pad stuck up her nose she looked comical to say the least, and she knew it.

"You'll get back at the Ravenclaws. I will be cheering for you." She said with a smile and moved forward quickly, ahead of him. He sighed heavily as she disappeared from his sight.

She always chatted with him after the match. She congratulated him on every success on the pitch with an excitement and joy that left him completely off balance.

He usually didn't answer at anything she said, but she didn't mind that at all. He wondered if maybe she just want to fuck him, like the other girls who had tried to get his attention, with varying degrees of success.

He rejected the thought, however, because she always approached him in public, in front of other people or in plain sight. She didn't try to drag him into the restroom or other secluded places where he satisfied his temporary physical needs with various girls. He had absolutely no idea what to do with her or how to discourage her.

She used to come to all his matches, watching him play. She even painted a banner with his name on it, green and white with tissue paper patterns, which she happily held up in the audience, embarrassing him. His teammates often laughed at her and, wanting to humiliate her, approached her openly about it, asking if she was in love with him.

She replied that she thought Aemond was the best player in the school and that he was her biggest inspiration and authority. She said it so lightly and with such joy that his buddies finally let her go, finding her behavior even cute.

He noticed that she also sometimes praised them after a match if she thought that they played well. She was the only Gryffindor that they talked to without irony in their voices.

He thought that she was an attention-seeking whore, painfully craving the applause of others. She would say all these nice things to have someone praise her too, pat her on the head, tell her how sweet and kind she was.

He was furious when he saw her talking to Helaena in the corridor. His sister was in Ravenclaw. Withdrawn, quiet, a bit mysterious, she sometimes said strange, ill-considered things. He knew that some people in her household avoided her because of this, considering her a weirdo. Aemond knew that she had a naive, tender heart, and that Solren must have easily wrapped her around her finger.

"Stay away from my sister." He'd told her once when he'd approached her after a match, all hot. She gave him a puzzled, confused look, not smiling for the first time when she saw him.

"What?" She asked, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. He moved closer to her, so that no one could hear the exchange between them.

"Stay away from my sister. She is naive, she might believe that you actually like her. But I know that you're a bigger viper than most Slytherins I know." He hissed, leaving her pale and shaken.

There had been a change in her since then that pleased him. She stopped approaching him after matches, stopped bringing that fucking banner, and finally gave him a break from her outward appearances. He thought with relief that she would finally let him go.

One day, entering the Great Hall, he found a scene that knocked him off his feet. His sister was crying softly as she knelt looking at something on the floor between the long tables, a good distance from him. Solren was leaning over her, her back to him, stroking her head. He could barely hear what they were saying.

"He killed Meles. My spider, he was so attached to me." Helaena whispered in a trembling voice, looking at her for understanding and comfort. Solren nodded.

"I know, I'm so sorry. We'll give him a funeral on the common, what do you say?" Solren asked, and Helaena smiled sleepily.

"Do you think I could sing to him?" She asked, and Solren gave her a light, warm laugh.

“We can come up with some kind of funeral march for the spiders. Meles won't be offended for sure." She said softly, Helaena seemed a little less broken than she had just a few seconds ago. The Ravenclaw beside them, apparently responsible for Meles' murder, shook his head in disbelief.

"You're both abnormal. It's just a worm, and this girl is crying like she's lost her mind. Are you sure you shouldn't be at St. Mung's?" He asked Helaena loudly, amused, leaning over her with a biting smile. Solren straightened up, frowning.

"Apologize." She said threateningly, clearly angry. The boy laughed at her words.

"Fuck you and your "magic creatures", play fun funeral for your sweet spider together." He said amused and turned to leave, but Solren grabbed his robe and pulled him so that he nearly fell.

"Apologise, you bastard!" She snarled, and they both began to grapple with each other.

"Fuck off!" He said, grabbing her arm aggressively, trying to pull her away.

Aemond was about to step in and interrupt but Cregan Stark, captain of the Gryffindor team, stopped him. He was a tall, robust dark-haired man, who lifted Solren with ease, tossing the kicking, angry girl over his shoulder.

"Calm down." He said, carrying her back to the Gryffindor table, obviously not wanting his house to lose points. Solren paid no attention to it and pointed her finger at the boy with whom she had just almost fought.

"I will fucking kill you!" She hissed and sighed loudly, lowering her head, letting Cregan put her on the floor after a moment.

He saw them talking about something for a while, Stark trying to calm her down as she gesticulated aggressively, obviously taken over by the whole situation. Her gaze met his and she stopped suddenly, frowning and she turned her face away.

Aemond walked over to his sister and helped her to get up. Helaena held the spider in her hands, or rather what was left of him after he had been crushed.

"I'm sorry." He spoke softly, not knowing how to comfort her. Helaena looked at him sleepily as if she hadn't quite heard what he said.

"We're giving him a funeral. Will you come with us?" She asked, looking at him hopefully.

He wanted to refuse but he thought that he had done nothing to stand up for her. He didn't even react when Solren struggled with that Ravenclaw. He sighed and just nodded his head.

After several minutes the three of them met behind the school grounds in a clearing, under one of the trees. Helaena thought that was the perfect place to bury her dead friend.

Solren brought a small cardboard box into which they placed the remains of his body and closed the lid. Helaena dug a small pit with her hands and placed the box in it, then shoved it all back in.

Helaena and she step back, his sister taking Solren's hand, apparently seeking comfort in her difficult time. Solren stroked her fingers, pursed her lips, real concern on her face. Helaena looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't. After a moment she turned to Solren.

"Will you sing something? I was going to do it, but for some reason I have a very tight throat." She said, sighing softly, her eyes red.

Solren looked at her, then at Aemond, not knowing what to do. She cleared her throat quietly, bewildered.

"I don't know what song would be appropriate for your friend." She said softly, uncertainly. Helena smiled.

"Sing what you think that he might like." She said, squeezing her hand tighter.

They stood there, staring at the mound of fresh earth in front of them. Solren opened her mouth after a moment.

When trust takes you over When the sleep of just falls on your head The moment you shut your eyes, I, under the cover of the night, will run away as far as I can I'll run becasue I can't take it no more I'll run before this love makes me devour you whole ‘Couse the more I want of you, the less I got of me Forgive me Oh-oh-oh-oh Sleep, my love, sleep

She sang it in such a way that it sent shivers down his spine. The song was primal, folk, magical, slow, from the depths of her chest. He was surprised at how pleasant her voice sounded. Helaena looked at her equally surprised, squeezing her hand tighter.

“It was beautiful. Thank you." She whispered.

The three of them walked back to the school grounds, Solren and Helaena still holding hands, walking ahead of him together as if they were a couple. He thought he had judged her very hastily. He looked down, discouraged and tired.

They escorted Helena to the dormitory. As she disappeared through the door, they both looked at each other in silence. He knew that the Gryffindor had a high-stakes match against the Ravenclaws tomorrow. If they won the match, they'd make it to the competition finals on points, even if they lost the next match to Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

"Good luck tomorrow." He said low, turning and walking down the stairs, leaving her with a shocked expression on her face.

The next day, his Slytherin teammates were talking about the upcoming match. He wasn't in the habit of watching them, except from the sidelines, knowing each team's tactics perfectly well.

He was sitting on the couch in their common room, reading a book, preparing for his Potions exam. Aegon walked over to him, sitting on the couch across from him.

"Will you come to the match with us? It's going to be a good show." He said low, brushing his hair casually.

Aemond wanted to answer automatically no, but hesitated. For some reason he wanted to see her fly on a broomstick from the side. Does she have any weak points. He decided that as her opponent, he should have been better acquainted with her personal way of acting on the pitch.

He agreed.

He and his friends settled in the audience. There was beautiful, sunny weather all around them. Some of the Slytherins started whistling and howling as the Gryffindors came onto the pitch. He thought it was childish and watched the whole spectacle dispassionately.

As Professor Hooch released the Golden Snitch and the match began, he was surprised to see how nimbly and quickly Solren grabbed the Quaffle.

She maneuvered confidently and lightly among the other players, not even giving them a chance to react. She immediately hit one of the hoops, making the entire Gryffindor audience roar in ecstasy and joy.

She and the other chaser flew like clockwork, exchanging positions. Several people clapped and shouted with joy as Solren dodged the Bludger, turning the broom 360 degrees without losing focus.

He thought, looking at her sideways, that he was not surprised that he had a problem with her and had to resort to violence.

She played perfectly.

He also noticed, surprised, that she sometimes used his own tricks and feints in the game. He hadn't noticed it before.

He didn't realize that she was actually modeling on him.

He felt a cold sweat on his neck at the thought that everything she had said to him was true.

She really treated him as her authority, and he humiliated her.

He pressed his lips against the unpleasant tightness in his stomach, which he didn't like at all. He didn't want to feel guilty but he knew that he had misjudged her very, very badly. He looked down, thinking of Helaena. That she was the only one standing up for her.

The only one who wasn't laughing at her.

He jumped in place as the rest of the audience when he heard screams and squeals. One of the contestants hit Solren in the head with a Bludger, she spun on her broomstick and fell from a considerable height to the ground, her body limp. He stared at it with wide eye, his mouth parted in disbelief.

"Oh fuck me! Is she alive?!" Said one of his colleagues, horrified, for some reason no one was laughing anymore.

"Sweet Merlin, he hit her right in the head! The only Gryffindor girl I liked to talk to!” Someone else said, there was a commotion around him.

The judge stopped the game by running over to the girl, checking her pulse. Several people from the hospital wing quickly ran to her and lifted her onto a stretcher. Aemond stared at the entire scene unable to move for some reason. He heard the loud pounding of his heart in his ears.

After the game, he sat with everyone in the common room, completely absorbed in his thoughts. All they discussed was the accident, exchanging guesses and information from the hospital wing.

"She still didn't wake up. Poor girl." One of the Slytherins said, sighing heavily. Her other friend laughed, waving her hand.

"Come on, one less Gryffindor is better for our team, right Aemond?" She asked him sweetly, clearly remembering their one-time toilet experience, still hoping for more. Aemond looked up at her.

"Shut the fuck up." He hissed, staring at her with a stony face, his eye dark and dangerous. The girl swallowed loudly, confused and scared, looking away.

He got up from the couch, ignoring the curious eyes of several people who had heard his outburst and left the common room, heading for the hospital wing. He thought that he would go crazy if he didn't go there.

He went inside, looking around. Apart from Solren no one was there, the setting sun pouring in through the great, gothic windows. He walked over to her bed, looking down at her, her head covered with a large bandage, her eyes closed in a deep sleep.

He stood there, staring at her, unable to say anything for a long time. His lip quivered, his heart pounding hard as he finally managed to get it out.

"Forgive me."

_____

What can I say. I love it so much I couldn't wait any longer to show you this. Song that I used in this chapter is real. It's an english translation of first verse of song by Kayah & Bregovic - Śpij kochanie, śpij. You can listen to original, polish version of this song on YouTube. Śpij kochanie, śpij means: Sleep my love, sleep.

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

[lividstar]

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎Chapter One: A Change

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎��‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 9k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, first person is only used in your journal entries so don’t worry, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Moving to Paris in order to leave your past in Arcadia Bay had been a long-term goal for a while now, and you were more than excited to finally have this dream of yours within your grasp. Of course, things won’t always turn out well consistently, and you had to be reminded of this in the worst way possible.

a/n: i’m having a huge struggle with figuring out how i’m supposed to conclude ‘sly fox, dumb bunny’ thus i decided to put it on hold for now. in order to compensate for that, allow me to introduce an entirely new series to keep you guys entertained <3 this was originally supposed to be oneshot but tumblr’s 1k block limit per post won’t allow that haha :’D still haven’t figured out how many chapters this will have in total but it will definitely be more than 2!

October 24th, 2018

If there was one lesson that struck me the most this year, it would definitely be the fact that in order to be able to move forward, making changes in your life are necessary, no matter how minor or major it may be. Maybe it could be something simple, like trying out a new restaurant different from the one near your house that you’ve been going to for pretty much your entire life, with the 0.5% possibility that you may cross paths with someone in the new place you’ll choose to visit, and the either lesser or bigger possibility that they may be the key to changing the way you view your existence.

Or maybe, it could be something as major as settling in a foreign setting to rewind the clock of your life right back to the very beginning—which is the change I am currently aiming for. I just feel like the opportunities that my hometown offers to me are way too restricted, you know? It’s like I don’t feel like I can push my potential to its very fullest in a place that isn’t big enough to withstand it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I hate it here—in fact, Arcadia Bay is the only place I can call my home without having any second doubts about it. But that’s exactly the problem. It feels like a home with locked doors, and I don’t hold the keys needed for it to be unlocked.

So then, months ago, I decided to take the risk and grab the opportunity to fly to Paris. I don’t know why exactly I chose it out of all the other choices laid out in front of me, but there’s just something about it that captivates me—better yet, draws me in. When I was surfing on the internet, looking to see which places are the best choices if you want to move out and start a new life, I came across Paris, and once I did, I knew I couldn’t just continue scrolling to look for other options. It’s like I had to choose to go there and nothing else, if you catch my drift.

I’m currently writing this in the airport, waiting for my flight to arrive. And by the time I step foot into Paris, I’ll make sure to write an entry as soon as possible—if unpacking won’t take up too much of my time. I honestly can’t wait for Paris! I hope it goes the other way around, too :)

Letting out a sigh of relief, you clicked your pen to push the ballpoint back in, gently shutting your journal and putting it back in one of your luggages. Staring at the sunset through the glass walls of the airport as you let your gaze be dragged back and forth by planes that were both departing and landing, you couldn’t help but let a wistful smile appear on your face. Even long ago, you already got aboard on a ship of longing for a change, a major event that will change the trajectory of your life for all the years that are yet to come. But you’ve never really been brave enough to keep your word back then, thus, the idea eventually rotted until it turned into a thought buried in the very back of your mind.

What you weren’t expecting at all was that very thought to come crawling back to bite you years later, but it’s been a long while since you neglected the idea, and now, you were no longer the same scaredy cat who had a knack for stressing herself out over the potential consequences of her actions instead of choosing to live in the moment—well, you were still a bit of a coward on specific circumstances, but no longer as much now. It wasn’t really charged by a highly traumatic moment or anything—you just came to realization that longing for a change without actually taking an action upon it won’t do anything on a random Sunday while moping over your laundry pile that refuses to decrease when you’ve literally been neglecting your house chores for an entire week straight.

The different jobs you’d take up almost every 3 business weeks due to always being fired over the most mediocre of reasons didn’t help with getting your life together either, especially since all of them had a low pay rate. Well, it only makes sense for things to be that way, considering your town was small and wasn’t really that fortunate in terms of financial matters, but that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to just suck it up and endure it. After all, why would you expect yourself to feel pity for the reason behind why you’re still unsure of what path you’re supposed to tread in life?

This was also one of the many reasons you decided to move to another country—you weren’t just hoping to experience a life-changing switch up, you were hoping to be able to find yourself throughout your journey in a foreign setting. You’ve never really been sure of what you wanted to be, always too busy with thinking of ways to survive rather than ways to live.

The speakers scattered around the walls of the airport then began to ring, signaling the departure of a flight. “Attention, passengers: Flight 276 to Paris is now boarding at Gate 12.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as the announcement rang through the terminal. With a deep breath, you stood up, gathering your belongings with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for. The walk to Gate 12 felt surreal. People occupied themselves in their personal activities around you, dragging suitcases and chatting in various languages, but it all seemed to blur together as your focus remained on the boarding gate ahead. Handing your boarding pass to the attendant, you couldn't help but smile as they welcome you aboard.

Stepping onto the plane, the cool air and the quiet hum of the engines greeted you. Finding your seat, you settled in, glancing out the window at the fading light of the evening. This was the beginning of your new chapter, and as the plane began to taxi down the runway, you felt a sense of determination wash over you. Paris was waiting.

The flight was short, but for you, who had already been brimming with anticipation for what felt like an eternity, each passing second seemed to stretch into hours. Every tiny movement of the plane, every faint hum of the engines, felt amplified by the adrenaline spreading through your veins. You had spent weeks imagining this moment, and now that it was finally here, the reality felt almost too surreal to grasp.

As the plane soared above the clouds, the world below seemed to shrink, becoming a patchwork quilt of landscapes, cities, and oceans. The setting sun painted the horizon in brilliant hues of gold and orange, casting a warm, ethereal glow over everything. You pressed your face to the window, your breath fogging the glass as you gazed out at the breathtaking view. The sprawling scenery beneath you brought a sense of comfort, a reminder of the vastness of the world and the endless possibilities that awaited you.

Your thoughts drifted to the life you were leaving behind. Memories of your hometown, with its familiar streets and faces, flashed through your mind. There was a pang of nostalgia, but it was quickly overshadowed by the excitement of the new chapter you were about to begin. You closed your eyes, intending to rest them for just a moment. The gentle hum of the plane and the slight turbulence lulled you into a light nap, the anticipation and exhaustion of the journey catching up with you.

You were awoken by the voice of the pilot crackling through the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you look out of your windows to the left, you will see the Eiffel Tower in the distance as we begin our descent into Paris.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the grogginess of sleep quickly replaced by a rush of excitement. You pressed your face to the window once more, your heart skipping a beat at the sight that greeted you. There, standing tall against the backdrop of the glowing sky, was the Eiffel Tower. Its iron lattice structure, illuminated by the last light of the day, seemed to beckon you, a symbol of the dreams and opportunities that lay ahead.

The plane began its descent, and the details of the city became clearer. The Seine River snaked its way through the heart of Paris, its waters reflecting the shimmering lights of the bridges and buildings that lined its banks. You could see people walking along the river, tiny figures in the distance, living their everyday lives in this magical city. The closer you got, the more real it all became.

As the wheels touched down on the runway, a wave of emotions washed over you. Relief, excitement, and a hint of nervousness mingled together, creating a heady cocktail of feelings that made your heart race. The plane taxied to the gate, and the passengers around you began to gather their belongings, ready to disembark. You joined them, your hands trembling slightly in excitement as you reached for your carry-on bag.

Stepping off the plane and into the terminal, you were immediately struck by the vibrant energy of the place. The air was filled with a symphony of languages, the chatter of travelers from all corners of the globe blending together in a harmonious cacophony. The terminal itself was a hive of activity, with people bustling about, some rushing to their next destination, others leisurely browsing the shops and cafes.

You followed the flow of people through the airport, the sights and sounds of Paris already beginning to enchant you. The aroma of freshly baked croissants and strong coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the subtle scent of perfume from the duty-free shops. The polished floors gleamed under the bright lights, reflecting the excitement in your eyes.

With your luggage in hand, you navigated through the crowd, your steps quickening as you neared the exit. The doors slid open, and you stepped out into the cool evening air. The city of Paris stretched out before you, alive with lights and sounds. The aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries wafted through the air, mingling with the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby café.

You took a deep breath, letting the reality of it all sink in. This was your new beginning, your fresh start—all chances to achieve every dream you had always wanted to turn into reality were eagerly waiting for you. As you hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of your new apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and wonder. Paris was everything you had dreamed of and more, and you were ready to embrace every moment of it.

The taxi ride through the streets of Paris felt like a dream. The city was a blend of old-world charm and modern vibrancy, with historic buildings standing proudly alongside trendy boutiques and cafes. You watched as people went about their lives, completely unaware of the new arrival who was already falling in love with their city.

The taxi driver, an older gentleman with a kind smile, made pleasant conversation during the ride. “Is this your first time in Paris?” he asked in a thick French accent.

“Yes, it is, sir,” you replied, your voice tinged with excitement. “I’ve always dreamed of coming here.”

“Ah, Paris is a city of dreams,” he said, his eyes twinkling in the rearview mirror. “You will love it here, I’m sure.”

Finally, you arrived at your apartment, a quaint building nestled in a quiet street. The driver helped you with your luggage, and you thanked him, giving him a generous tip. As you approached the building, the landlord, a friendly-looking middle-aged woman, stepped out to greet you. “Bonsoir! You must be the new tenant,” she said warmly, extending her hand. “I am Madame Dupont."

“Bonsoir, Madame Dupont,” you replied, taking her hand in yours and gently shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Welcome to Paris,” she said, her smile broadening. “I hope your journey was pleasant. Now, let me show you to your apartment.”

You followed her inside, the cozy interior of the building immediately making you feel at home. She led you up a narrow staircase to the second floor, where she unlocked the door to your new apartment. “This is it,” she said, opening the door and stepping aside to let you enter first. “I hope you will find it comfortable.”

You stepped inside, your eyes widening as you took in the charming space. The apartment was small but cozy, with large windows that offered a stunning view of the Parisian streets below. The furnishings were simple yet elegant, and there was a welcoming warmth to the place that instantly put you at ease.

“It’s perfect,” you said, turning to Madame Dupont with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. The other tenants are very friendly, and there’s a lovely café just down the street. I’m sure you’ll settle in quickly.”

“Thank you, Madame Dupont.” You gave her a grin filled with gratitude. “I really appreciate it.”

She handed you the keys, her smile never wavering. “Enjoy your stay in Paris. I have a feeling you’ll have many wonderful adventures here.”

With that, she left you to settle in, closing the door behind her. You took a moment to soak it all in—the cozy apartment, the view of the streets below, the realization that you were finally here, in Paris. Unpacking your belongings, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. You have made it. You were here, ready to start this new chapter of your life. As you stood by the window, looking out at the city that would now be your home, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful adventure.

Once you finished unpacking your belongings, you were about to settle down and immediately continue your journal entry for the day, but then you remembered Madame Dupont mentioning a café nearby the apartment. You mused to yourself, why not start your very first step into your new life now? You went through the rack of clothes you had just finished hanging inside your closet. Since you’d read somewhere that the weather in Paris was very cold lately, you decided to go for a comfortable, chic outfit made with a fabric thick enough to help you withstand the climate, paired with a long beige coat.

Debating whether to wear a beret as a cherry on top, you figured that would be way too much of a giveaway to the city folks that you were new around here. Instead, you chose one of the small bags you brought with you that wasn’t too big but big enough to fit your journal and essentials. Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you smiled to yourself in approval before heading out.

As you made your way outside the apartment, you passed by Madame Dupont, who sent a wide grin your way. “Already going out for an adventure, huh? I see you’ve got a strong sense of spirit in you, young lady. Take care.”

You lightly laughed and returned her smile. “Thank you, Madame Dupont. I’ll make sure to be back soon before it’s too late,” you promised, bidding her farewell before heading out and not looking back.

You felt a little foolish for forgetting to ask Madame Dupont where exactly the café was located before leaving, as now you were on your third circle around the apartment wondering where on earth the café was. Determined not to give up, you tried once more, scanning the streets with renewed focus. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a café came into your line of sight, and you let out a relieved sigh. The place was filled with activity, its warm lights and inviting atmosphere drawing you in. You decided to head for the vacant tables outside, appreciating the opportunity to soak in the vibrant Parisian street life.

Settling into a seat, you placed your bag on the table and took out your journal. The evening air was crisp, but your thick outfit kept you warm. As you opened your journal, you glanced around, taking in the sights and sounds of your new city. The café’s ambiance was filled with the soft murmur of conversations, the clinking of cups and plates, and the occasional laughter from nearby tables. You took a deep breath, savoring the moment. This was your new beginning, your first step into the life you had dreamed of. With a smile on your face, you began to continue your entry for October 24th.

I made it! I’m finally here in Paris, and let me tell you, the way it is described by media articles and people in social media spaces definitely does not entirely sum up just how beautiful it actually is in real life. I know it hasn’t even been half a day since I got here, but I can already feel myself falling in love with this city. Well, I guess they call it the city of love for a reason, right? I mean, in a literal context, how I feel is not why Paris is called such, but I’d like to think falling in love with the endless opportunities a certain place offers to you gives a more heartwarming feeling than falling in love with those who live in it.

Anyway, the journey felt like an eternity, but the sight of the Eiffel Tower from the plane made every second worth it. Stepping off the plane and into the terminal was like stepping into a dream, one you’d never catch yourself wanting to get out of. The energy, the diversity, the sheer magic of it all—it’s everything I imagined and more.

Madame Dupont, my landlord, is incredibly kind. She welcomed me warmly and showed me to my cozy apartment. It’s small, but it’s all I can afford for now, so it’ll do. It provides me with a spectacular view of the streets below, too, so I guess it’s not really that bad. After unpacking, I decided to explore the neighborhood, and now, I’m currently sitting at a charming café just around the corner from my apartment as I’m writing this.

The atmosphere here is enchanting. The air is filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the chatter of people enjoying their evening. I feel alive, inspired, and ready to embrace whatever comes my way. This is the start of my new life, and I couldn’t be more excited. I’m sure it’ll take me a while before I get used to the new environment, but everyone starts somewhere, right?

Just as you finished your entry, a waiter approached your table with a friendly smile. “Bonsoir, mademoiselle. What can I get for you this evening?”

You looked up, momentarily taken aback by the realization that you were truly in Paris. “Bonsoir,” you replied, returning his smile. “Could I please have a café au lait?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “I’ll bring it right out.”

As the waiter walked off, you looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the café and the street beyond. Even though it had barely been 24 hours since you arrived, you could already feel the major changes in your life beginning to take place. Listening to your gut and deciding to move to Paris was definitely the best decision you’d made so far. Your hometown was nice, but it had finished serving its purpose. From now on, it was nothing but a distant memory that could only be fondly looked back at and not returned to.

Minutes later, the waiter came back with your order and placed it down on your table with a kind smile. You return it back with an even wider grin, thanking him with utmost gratitude as he went off to serve other customers and left you with your internal musings.

Paris felt like a breath of fresh air, a place where you could truly spread your wings and explore your potential. The city’s energy was infectious, filling you with a sense of possibility and excitement for the future. The people, the culture, the very air you breathed—it all felt like an invitation to start anew, to discover parts of yourself you never knew existed. As the sky darkened and the street lights flickered on, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets, you felt a sense of contentment wrap you in an embrace.

Noticing that it was getting quite late, you hurriedly began to pack your items. The last thing you wanted was to stay in the streets for too long and risk getting into trouble before you could even start your new life. Plus, you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on Madame Dupont by breaking your promise to return before it got too late. And you certainly didn’t want to stay up too long and miss the opportunity to wake up early tomorrow to start searching for a job to settle yourself in.

In your haste, you quickly gathered your things, placing them back in your bag. However, in your rush, you forgot to place your journal back inside. You slung your bag over your shoulder, the adrenaline of the day still lingering in your veins as you made your way back to your apartment.

As you neared your apartment, a sudden realization hit you—you had left your journal at the café. Panic surged through you as you turned on your heel and rushed back, your heart pounding with urgency.

The café was still open, and you hurried inside, scanning the tables where you had been sitting. Your journal was nowhere to be seen. Swallowing your anxiety, you approached the counter where a waiter was wiping down some glasses.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice tinged with worry. “I left a black journal here earlier. Do you have a lost and found section?”

The waiter looked up and smiled kindly. “Yes, we do. Follow me.” He led you to a small office in the back and began rifling through a box of forgotten items. “Apologies, what did you lose again?”

“A black journal,” you repeated, your stomach in knots.

The waiter nodded and pulled out a plain black notebook. “Is this it?”

You sighed in relief. “Yes, that’s the one. Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “Glad we could help.” You thanked him again and hurried out of the café, eager to get back to your apartment. You clutched the journal tightly in your hands, not bothering to check it until you were safely back in your room.

Once you were home, you finally took a moment to catch your breath. You sat on your bed and opened the journal, flipping past the first page. But something was off. The pages weren’t filled with your handwriting; instead, they were covered in otherworldly sketches of fashion designs, complete with detailed notes.

Confused, you flipped back to the front cover and saw a name scrawled there in neat handwriting: Kim Hongjoong.

Not being able to keep your curiosity in check, you decided to take a look at the sketches in the journal. Opening the first few pages, you find yourself to be immediately in awe with the sight that greets you.

The first page featured an elegant evening gown, the kind that would turn heads at any high-class event. The dress was sleek and form-fitting, with a high neckline and elegantly patterned lace detailing that cascaded down the back. The fabric seemed to shimmer even on the page, giving it a sense of movement and grace. There was a small note attached to the side:

“Inspired by the twilight sky. Use silk chiffon for the outer layer, color: midnight blue.”

You flipped to the next page and found a chic, modern pantsuit. The jacket was tailored to perfection, with sharp lines and a slightly oversized fit, giving it a contemporary edge. The trousers were high-waisted and wide-legged, creating a powerful and stylish silhouette. Another note accompanied this design:

“Power and elegance combined. Fabric: wool blend, color: charcoal gray. Consider adding a silk blouse in white.”

The next sketch was a whimsical cocktail dress. It had a flared skirt that ended just above the knees and a fitted bodice adorned with floral embroidery. The dress seemed playful yet sophisticated, perfect for a summer party, a fancy brunch, or maybe even a date by a park. The note read:

“Spring collection. Use organza for the skirt and satin for the bodice. Embroidery: floral motifs in pastel shades.”

Turning the page, you found a casual yet stylish ensemble. This one consisted of a cropped leather jacket, a simple white tee, and high-waisted skinny jeans. The look was completed with ankle boots and a statement necklace. The note next to it said:

“Urban chic. Jacket: genuine leather, color: black. Jeans: denim, dark wash. Accessorize with bold jewelry.”

You continued to flip through the pages, marveling at the diversity and creativity of the designs. Each sketch seemed to tell a story, and it was clear that Kim Hongjoong had a keen eye for fashion and an impressive ability to translate his vision onto paper. Another design caught your eye—a stunning bridal gown. The dress was timeless and romantic, with a sweetheart neckline, a fitted bodice, and a flowing tulle skirt. Delicate lace covered the bodice and trailed down into the skirt, giving the dress a dreamy, ethereal quality. The note attached was longer:

“Bridal collection. Bodice: lace overlay on satin, color: ivory. Skirt: multiple layers of tulle for volume, same color. Add pearl embellishments to the bodice for an extra touch of elegance.”

You found yourself getting lost in the artistry of the sketches. Whoever Kim Hongjoong was, he definitely knew what he was doing. His designs were not only beautiful but also meticulously planned, with each detail carefully thought out and noted.

You couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander freely. Was he a fashion student? But his designs seemed too advanced for that level. An aspiring designer, perhaps? You had no idea. You hoped Kim Hongjoong hadn’t mixed his notebook with yours as well—but then again, why would there only be one black journal there if yours hadn’t already been taken?

What if Kim Hongjoong had been in the café hours before you came by and went back only to end up retrieving your personal journal instead of his sketchbook? One thing was for sure, you had a desperate sense of hope that he wasn’t snooping through it right now as you lay down and let yourself be drowned in your thoughts.

Well... you did snoop through his sketchbook, but journal entries are way more personal than that, aren’t they? You imagined him reading through your thoughts and musings, learning about your insecurities and dreams, unsure of how to feel about the scenario. It was one thing to admire someone’s creative work, but entirely another to delve into someone’s private reflections.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind whirled with questions and possibilities. Who was Kim Hongjoong, and how could you find him to return his sketchbook and retrieve your journal, in case it was in his possession as well? The idea of someone else reading your innermost thoughts made you uneasy, but at the same time, the mystery of this encounter intrigued you.

Not even a day had passed, and yet Paris was already proving itself to be filled with extraordinary happenings.

—

“So… you’re telling me that not only did you forget the sketchbook you’ve been using since you started fashion school back in college—which you, by the way, claim to be your most prized possession, but when you went back to the café to retrieve it, you ended up taking a stranger’s notebook with you?”

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his temples as he lightly banged the back of his head against his headboard. “Prized possession or not, you know I tend to be forgetful about my belongings, Seonghwa. So whatever you’re trying to imply, drop it. Plus, how was I supposed to know? The notebook they gave me was a hundred percent identical with what my sketchbook looks like.”

“And you didn’t bother checking the pages first before heading back here last night?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You seriously waited until now to tell me about this?”

“First of all, I didn’t wait. You woke me up by telling me you’ll be coming over to check my latest designs for our autumn collection,” Hongjoong countered, crossing his arms in defense.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “So, what, had I not called you, you would’ve waited until later in the afternoon to tell me?”

“That’s not the point!” Hongjoong buried his face deep in his palms, the skintone of his fingers mixing with the dark hues of his hair. “I’m stressed out and I already have a lot on my plate, so please, Seonghwa, if you’re not going to help me out with this, just leave.”

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh before throwing his arms up in defeat. Taking a couple steps to draw closer to Hongjoong’s bed, he took a seat on the edge of it, the cushion underneath shrinking. “I literally help you with everything for a living. I definitely don’t want to validate your stupidity, but if that’s what’ll bring money to the table, then fine, I’m all ears.”

“Will you stop acting like we’re just co-workers and I only hired you as a personal assistant to treat you like a slave? Mind you, you’re the one who came up with the idea of taking this responsibility to begin with.” Hongjoong groaned.

“Yeah, when I was a dumb man back in college,” Seonghwa retorted, though playfully, as he never really took the endless banter between him and Hongjoong seriously. It does get a little serious about twice a year, though, but doesn’t that happen to every friendship in this world?

“What changed now? You’re a dumb man in the fashion industry?” Hongjoong challenged, drawing the blankets closer to his torso.

Seonghwa gave him a disapproving look. “You better quit giving me attitude. It’s 7 in the morning, and I’m not having any of that today.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m your child!”

“Then stop acting like one!”

Hongjoong roughly dragged his palms across his face. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Good. Now that we’ve got that sorted out, have you done anything with the notebook, like, at all?” Seonghwa turned his body slightly to the left so he could face Hongjoong.

“I have. I checked the notebook a minute after you called me to ask about our autumn collection, and flipping through its first page was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. Although I do agree it would’ve been wiser to have done that the night before…” Hongjoong admitted, avoiding Seonghwa’s gaze as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, staring out the window of his penthouse.

“Everything you needed to know?” Seonghwa tilted his head.

“What was on the first page wasn’t a name—it was ‘Letters from the archive,’ and it was written in cursive. My sketchbook has my name on its first page,” Hongjoong explained, eliciting a sigh from Seonghwa.

“Letters from the archive, huh? The owner must be into literature,” Seonghwa mused. “Are you sure it really looks that identical to your sketchbook, though?”

“I am. I swear, there isn’t even a single difference. Here, I’ll show you.” Hongjoong stretched his arms, finally taking the blankets off of him and leaning closer towards his bedside table to pull the top drawer open. Once he had taken out the notebook, he pushed the drawer shut, moving to occupy the empty space beside Seonghwa on his bed. “Look at that and tell me it doesn’t look exactly like my sketchbook.”

“Oh,” was all Seonghwa could say as he examined the journal’s cover. “Well, I guess you’re not that stupid after all. I mean, you’re still stupid for forgetting your prized possession, but not as much anymore. I definitely wouldn’t have suspected a thing if I were you, either.”

“...”

“But I definitely would have decided to check the contents first—”

Hongjoong snatched the journal away from Seonghwa. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, whatever. So… what do I do now?”

“Maybe try flipping a page further? Just to see if you could find any information that could take you a step closer to figuring out what the notebook is for.” Seonghwa shrugged his shoulders.

Hongjoong hesitated. “What if it’s some sort of a personal journal? The eccentric cursive lettering kind of gives it away. Are you sure about that?”

“Positive. And if you’re immediately met with a journal entry, close it shut as soon as you can and we’ll try to find another way to see who the owner is. We’re not invading people’s privacy in the 21st century,” Seonghwa suggested, leaning back and placing his hands down on either side for support as he waited for Hongjoong to do as he said. “So?”

“It’s blank.”

“Huh?” Seonghwa straightened up, looking at the open journal laying down on Hongjoong’s lap. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What now?” Hongjoong asked, staring blankly at the empty page. “I’m pretty sure the only way we can find out this person’s name or anything remotely hinting at their identity is if we go deeper and read at least one entry. Just one.”

“I don’t think that’s…” Seonghwa trailed off, considering Hongjoong’s words. Even if he hated to admit it, the man had a fair point. He was against his idea, but right now, it’s not exactly like they have any other choice. Sighing in defeat, he slumps his shoulders. “Fine. One entry, but that’s it. That’s as far as we should go.”

Hongjoong nodded in satisfaction, ecstatic that for once, Seonghwa actually views his perspective as something valuable. “Alright, one entry it is,” he mused, almost to himself, before flipping through the pages and stopping at a random entry.

July 10, 2018

Is it unacceptable to long for a major shift in your life? To desperately hope for a miracle to happen almost every night, just a couple seconds before your body entirely falls into the pit of unconsciousness? To be frankly honest, these are questions I have no answers to. Not because I’m empty-handed, rather, I’ve always been too afraid to step out of my tiny little bubble to find out the answers myself. How am I supposed to know if yearning for a change despite already being in an environment considered comfortable is unjustifiable if I’m not making any move to feel at least a fleeting touch of that “change” to begin with?

I know my parents think keeping me alone here in my hometown while they continued their lives in a different country was the best decision they’ve made for my entire lifespan because in their eyes, they view this as a way to teach me the art of independence or whatever my father called it, and don’t get me wrong, I love them dearly and I know they’re only doing all these things because they care for me, but if it’s a good decision in their eyes, why can’t it be in mine?

Yes, Arcadia Bay is the place where I grew up, the only place I feel enough connection with to call my home, but I have to be honest and admit that this place doesn’t exactly feel like something I could call a sanctuary anymore. I love it here, but I feel like this town was supposed to be nothing but a guiding light that has already served its purpose back in my childhood days. I feel like I’m not supposed to be here anymore—who knows, maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling so out of place ever since I started growing up.

I’m still unsure of whether I should initiate a change in my life as of now, but if I were to do so anytime soon, I think following my parents’ footsteps and moving to a new country as well would be the right decision for me. That’s a huge change, right? Maybe once I’m brave enough to stand firm on that decision, I can finally prove to them that I’ve grown to be the independent figure they’ve always wanted me to be. That would make them proud, right? Guess I’ll start browsing the internet for recommendations on one of these following days.

“Arcadia Bay?” Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, Seonghwa, could you look up where Arcadia Bay is?”

The aforementioned man didn’t need to be told twice, already pulling his phone out from the pocket of his tailored pants. “On it,” he replied before typing the words ‘Arcadia Bay’ in the browser’s search bar. Once the results appeared on his screen, he couldn’t resist but let out a hum of surprise. “Oh?”

“Why?” Hongjoong gently closed the journal, placing it on the empty spot to his left as he leaned closer towards Seonghwa, who gave him a clear view of the browser’s search results. “A secluded town located in…”

“So the owner isn’t from here, then?” Hongjoong whispered to himself, yet it was audible enough to make Seonghwa give a curt nod.

“The entry I chose to read was written on July 10, and they said something about wanting to move to a new country. I wonder if they’ve been here for a while or have just settled in…” Hongjoong trailed off. “Should I read the most recent entry?”

“Hongjoong, are you out of your mind? One entry is enough,” Seonghwa countered, but Hongjoong insisted. “I know, but how am I supposed to figure out if they’re new here or not?”

Seonghwa groaned. “You don’t need to know that to begin with. Reading one entry is invasive enough. Just leave the rest to me. I’ll figure out a way to track the owner down and see if your sketchbook is in their possession as well.”

Seeing that Hongjoong wasn’t convinced enough, Seonghwa softened, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Look, I know you’re worried, but we’ll figure this out, alright? I’ll do everything I can.”

“We can wait for autumn all we want, but autumn won’t wait for us, Seonghwa. What if the months pass by faster than we’re currently anticipating, and my sketchbook is still not in our hands? What will I do, then? You know I can’t mess this up.” Hongjoong’s figure slumped, a symbol of hopelessness.

A flash of empathy spread across Seonghwa’s gaze. “I know that more than you think I do, Hongjoong. And that’s exactly what I’m here for. I volunteered to be your personal assistant for a reason. Now, quit moping around, or else I’ll tell Wooyoung about this.”

“Oh, God, no—anything but that. You know he always does everything in his power to make me feel even worse when I’m having a horrible day,” Hongjoong said, groaning at the thought of his fashion brand’s photographer.

“I beg to differ. I think it’s just his own special way of cheering you up.” Seonghwa nudged him, a smile on his face. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me snitching on you to Wooyoung, since he’s most likely busy with his photography gigs outside of taking pictures of models.”

At the mention of the word ‘model,’ Hongjoong’s ears perked up. “Speaking of models, you mentioned the other week you’re looking for a specific set of features that’ll match the vibe our upcoming collection is opting for, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve been working my soul off to try and search everywhere for a suitable muse, but luck hasn’t been on my side lately. My schedule today isn’t packed since yours isn’t, so I’ll make use of my free time later in the afternoon to conduct another search.” Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong, a grin of determination spread across his face.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be in the trenches and not a penthouse right now.”

“Wish that was the case.”

“This is the only time I’m allowing myself to express my gratitude verbally, and that’s the response you chose to give me?”

You wandered through the streets of Paris, eyes scanning every shop window and café for signs advertising job vacancies. The bustling city, with its charming cobblestone streets and historic architecture, felt both enchanting and overwhelming. Every corner held a new promise, a new opportunity—or so you hoped.

Your first stop was a quaint little bakery that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a storybook. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread wafted out as you pushed the door open, the bell above jingling to announce your arrival. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes greeted you from behind the counter. “Bonjour! How can I help you?”

You smiled, trying to mask your nervousness. “Bonjour. I was wondering if you might be hiring?”

Her smile faltered slightly, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we’re fully staffed at the moment. But I do wish you the best of luck in your search!”

“That’s alright. Thank you,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Have a good day.”

The doorbell jingled again as you left, and you sighed, making a note to check back in a few weeks before continuing your job hunt. Next, you approached a charming bookstore nestled between a café and a flower shop. The smell of old books greeted you as you stepped inside, and the owner, an elderly man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose, looked up from his newspaper.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “Are you looking for any help?”

He gave you a kind but weary smile. “I’m afraid not, dear. It’s just me here, and I can manage well enough. But thank you for asking.”

“Of course. Have a good day,” you said, nodding politely before exiting the store.

Feeling a bit discouraged, you decided to try your luck at a nearby café. The place was bustling with customers, and you hoped that meant they might need an extra pair of hands. You approached the counter where a barista was busy making coffee.

“Hi there, I was wondering if you’re hiring,” you asked when the barista had a moment to spare.

She glanced at you, her expression apologetic. “Oh, sorry, but we’re fully staffed right now. Maybe try back in a month or so?”

“A month… Okay, thanks anyway,” you replied, feeling your spirits dip further.

As the morning turned into afternoon, you found yourself in a part of the city you didn’t recognize. The streets here were pristine, lined with designer boutiques and luxury cars. The buildings were grand and elegant, their facades adorned with intricate details that spoke of old money and high status. It was clear that the people who lived here were exceptionally wealthy.

You spotted a small convenience store and decided to take a break, purchasing a bottle of water before finding a bench to sit on. You took a long sip of water, feeling the cool liquid soothe your parched throat. The hustle and bustle of the morning had worn you out, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Maybe you had underestimated just how difficult it would be to find a job in a new city, let alone in a foreign country where you barely knew anyone.

You glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The buildings here were charming in their own way, but they didn’t have the same vibrant energy as the heart of Paris. You wondered how far you had walked, how many miles you had covered without even realizing it. The city seemed to stretch on endlessly, each new street a labyrinth of possibilities and dead ends.

As you sat there, you couldn’t help but think about how much you missed the familiarity of your hometown, despite its suffocating nature. Back there, you knew the ins and outs, the shortcuts and hidden gems. Here, everything was a mystery waiting to be unraveled—a mystery that, right now, felt overwhelming.

But you couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. You had made the choice to move here, to start anew, and you were determined to make it work. After all, wasn’t this what you had dreamed of? A fresh start, a chance to reinvent yourself in one of the most beautiful cities in the world?

You stood up, drinking the last drip of your water before tossing the bottle into a nearby recycling bin. You decided to continue your job search, reasoning that you might as well make the most of being in an unfamiliar part of the city, yet the next few hours passed in a blur of polite conversations and disappointing rejections. You visited a cozy bookstore, a flower shop, and even a small art gallery, but each time the answer was the same: no openings.

At a chic boutique, you approached a stylish woman arranging clothes on a rack. “Excuse me, are you hiring by any chance?”

She looked you up and down, her expression neutral. “Not at the moment. Try again in a few weeks.”

“Oh, um, alright. Thanks,” you said, trying to keep your tone upbeat.

A small restaurant was your next stop. The manager, a burly man with a thick mustache, listened as you asked about job openings. He shook his head. “Sorry, we’re not hiring right now. But I’ll keep your name in mind if something opens up.”

“I would appreciate that very much,” you said, handing him a slip of paper with your contact information.

You continued to push forward, determined not to let the string of rejections defeat you. At a florist’s shop, the owner, a woman in her forties with a friendly smile, seemed sympathetic. “I wish I could help, but we’re fully staffed for the season. Try the market down the street, though—they’re always busy.”

You thanked her and headed to the market, only to find the same disheartening response. The vendors were polite but firm: no openings.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the city, you were exhausted. Your feet ached, and your spirits were low. You had covered a lot of ground, but you were no closer to finding a job than you had been that morning.

You made your way to a nearby bus stop, hoping to catch a bus back to your apartment. As you waited, you couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. It was disheartening to face so many rejections, but you tried to remind yourself that it was only the first day. Things would get better—they had to.

Just as a bus pulled up and you prepared to board, you noticed a man standing across the street, staring at you. He was well-dressed, his long, dark hair neatly styled, and there was something about his gaze that made you pause. But you didn’t have the energy to think much of it. You dismissed it as a coincidence, stepping onto the bus and finding a seat by the window.

As the bus pulled away, you watched the city pass by, the streets slowly transforming from the unfamiliar to the familiar. You leaned your head against the window, closing your eyes for a moment. Tomorrow is a new day, and you should continue your search. For now, you allowed yourself a moment of rest, letting the rhythmic motion of the bus lull you into a state of quiet reflection.

If only you had your journal with you.

Seonghwa strolled through the opulent streets, his mind still buzzing with the image of the woman he had seen at the bus stop. There was something undeniably captivating about you—your presence was like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the city’s chaos. Your aura practically reeked of autumn, a season that brought a sense of warmth and nostalgia, and your features harmonized perfectly with the vibe you carried. There was a certain grace you held, a blend of determination and gentleness that made you stand out.

Seonghwa had a unique talent, a third eye for spotting individuals who deserved to be showcased in the fashion industry. Today, it was as if a laser had hit him right in the eye when he saw you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were the perfect muse Hongjoong had been searching for.

As he approached Hongjoong’s penthouse, Seonghwa’s mind was racing. He had to tell Hongjoong about you, even if he didn’t know your name or where you were headed. He pushed open the door to the penthouse, finding Hongjoong hunched over his desk, engrossed in his work.

Hongjoong looked up, surprise evident on his face. “Seonghwa? You’re back already? And… wow. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Seonghwa shook his head, still trying to process what he had seen. “No, not a ghost. I saw the perfect muse for your works.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, immediately intrigued. He leaned back in his chair, motioning for Seonghwa to sit down. “Settle down and tell me everything. Did you get her name?”

Seonghwa sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “No, I didn’t. I only saw her just as she was getting on a bus across the street. But Hongjoong, you have to believe me. This woman—she’s exactly what you’ve been looking for. Her entire aura screamed autumn. It was like she was made to be your muse.”

Hongjoong frowned, disappointed but still intrigued. “You know how rarely you say something like that. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever used the word ‘perfect’ to describe any of the models you’ve scouted.”

Seonghwa nodded sarcastically. “Thanks for the info, Sherlock. I know that very well. That’s why I’m so certain. She was different, like she wasn’t from here at all.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Tell me more. What exactly did you see that made you so sure?”

Seonghwa took a deep breath, trying to put the ineffable into words. “It was the way she carried herself. There was a certain grace, a natural elegance that you don’t see every day. She had a strong, remarkable energy, yet there was also a touch of softness to it. Her presence was calming, almost like the gentle fall of autumn leaves. Her features were perfectly combined in a way that was so unique as if she’s the only one who could pull off such an appearance. It was her overall vibe—the warmth, the subtle strength, the sense of being grounded yet free.”

Hongjoong listened intently, absorbing every detail. “And you’re sure she’s not a local?”

“I don’t think so. There was something in her demeanor, a curiosity about her surroundings, that made me think she’s new here. She seemed to be exploring, taking in everything around her.”

Hongjoong’s disappointment deepened. “It’s a shame you didn’t get to speak to her. But if she’s new here, she might not have settled down yet. We could still find her.”

Seonghwa nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping for. We’ll need to keep our eyes open, maybe put out some feelers. Someone must have seen her.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, considering the possibilities. “Can you draw? Even just a little?”

Seonghwa blinked, caught off guard by the question. “A little, yeah. Why?”

Without another word, Hongjoong handed Seonghwa a pen and a piece of paper. “Draw what she looked like.”

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment before taking the pen. His eyebrows lightly furrowed as he began recalling the details as best as he could—the way you carried yourself, the way your presence seemed to radiate warmth. He began to sketch, his hand moving swiftly across the paper.

As he worked, Hongjoong watched intently, his anticipation growing with each stroke of the pen. Seonghwa’s drawing wasn’t perfect, but it captured the essence of what he had seen. The lines conveyed a sense of movement, a grace that was unmistakable. When he finished, he handed the drawing to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong couldn't take his eyes off the sketch. The lines were simple yet evocative, capturing an essence that stirred something deep within him. “She’s... ethereal,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s like even through this sketch, I can feel what you were talking about.”

Seonghwa leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “See? It was as if she had her own gravitational pull. Among all the people, she stood out. Not because of any single feature, but because of the way she seemed to belong and yet not belong at the same time. Like she was part of this world but also a visitor.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, still entranced by the sketch. “You really do have a knack for psychoanalyzing people at first glance, don’t you?”

Seonghwa chuckled, nudging Hongjoong playfully. “It’s a gift, what can I say? I see beyond the surface. It’s what makes me such an asset to you.”

Hongjoong smirked, shaking his head. “An asset, huh? More like a pain sometimes.”

Seonghwa grinned. “Only sometimes? I must be losing my touch.”

Hongjoong laughed, the tension easing between them. “Well, you definitely haven’t lost your touch with this one. Seriously though, are you sure you weren’t hallucinating? She looks too good to be true.”

Seonghwa’s expression turned serious. “I’m as sure as I can be. She’s real, and she’s out there. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes you just know when something is right.”

Hongjoong’s mind raced, the image of you taking root in his imagination. “I need that kind of authenticity, that depth that she seems to hold just from this sketch alone. Someone who embodies change, transition, like the seasons shifting.”

Seonghwa’s eyes lit up. “Exactly. That’s why I couldn’t just let it go. There was a sense of autumn around her—warmth mixed with a touch of melancholy, like she’s seen the world and carries its stories within her.”

Hongjoong’s thoughts were a whirlwind of possibilities. He could already see the designs taking shape, inspired by the image Seonghwa had drawn and the feelings it evoked. “You know, this could be the breakthrough we’ve been searching for. A muse like her could elevate the entire collection.”

Seonghwa smiled, feeling a surge of excitement. “I knew you’d understand. We just have to find her now. Maybe we can start by visiting the area where I saw her. There might be clues, or someone who knows her.”

Hongjoong agreed, his determination solidifying. “Yeah, we’ll start there and leave no stone unturned. I want to know everything about her—where she’s from, what brought her here, and what her dreams are. She’s the missing piece.”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “You’re already captivated, and we haven’t even met her yet.”

Hongjoong smiled, a mixture of excitement and anxiety in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that. It’s my passion for what I do speaking for me. No personal feelings involved. Sometimes, you just immediately know when something—or someone—is going to change everything.”

“So, what do you think, Hongjoong?”

“I think she’s that someone.”

🪞 — lividstar.

[igotanidea]

Let's fuck up the friendship : J.T x fem!reader

how cute is that picture? UwU

request by @parkjammys (once again, thank you for making my day by posting pics of Outlaws!Jason today)

based on the prompt: "sometimes i look at people and think.. really? that’s the sperm that won?” With best friend Jason feeling really jealous seeing his best friend that he has a major crush on, talk to some guy (guy is Kyle Rayner) and he's mumbling "he's not even her type"

***

„Why is he here again?” Jason scoffed, carefully observing his best friend Y/N, talking to that stupid prick of a green lantern, Kyle Rayner.

“Dunno.” Dick, still in his Nightwing suit shrugged casually, while stuffing his mouth with cereals ‘probably something to do with the newest mission on Earth or something like that.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all?” Jason hissed, involuntarily clenching his fist. “that he just drops by whenever he wants?”

“No, not really.” Dick swallowed particularly huge piece of his meal and focused on his brother’s face. “does it bother you?”

It wasn’t a secret that Jason and Kyle weren’t exactly friends, but the former never reacted with such…. intensity. All right, most of the times the green lantern showed himself around Jason was throwing offences left and right, showing his teeth and acting like he was marking territory. Kyle, however did exactly the same thing. It was sort of tradition at this point. But all that teasing, fake fighting and extreme emotions never escalated so quickly to the point where Jason was all red (and not because of the helmet or the gear), grinding his teeth and subconsciously reaching for his gun while his eyes were fixed on one place in space. Or rather, one person.

Y/N.

She was talking to Kyle, laughing at whatever he just said, her eyes sparkling, looking happy like never before. And what was even worse she just hit his chest playfully. SHE TOUCHED HIM for fuck’s sake and that fucker really seemed to enjoy that.  On the other side, Jay did not like it at all. How could he? He had a massive crush on her since he could remember and yet, despite all his cool demeanor, harsh behavior and bad boy outlook, he was too self-conscious to ever confront her about it. Stupid, longing idiot, afraid of his own feelings. To tell the truth, he himself wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of the possibility of her pushing him away or rather the fact that by some miracle she might want him. He was not good in relationships, any of them, and that made his mind create crazy scenarios in which she was hurt or killed or sad or crying because of him.

But sure as hell he was not going to let Rayner get to her first!

She was just …. something different.

The girl who knew what she wanted and wouldn’t settle for anything else. The girl who would stand by you, listening to every rant and problem you may have, but also the one who would turn and run the second she got vulnerable. It was so damn hard, to get her to open up, since on 9 out of 10 cases she would just jump into helping someone else or dig into work.  

And she was his best friend.

What kind of fool falls for his best friend?

It was stupid and childish and naïve and yet, all he wanted and needed was to just approach her that very second, interrupt her happy conversation and use one sentence that would either make her hate him and disappear for good or get them both to a whole new level of relationship.

“Let’s fuck up the friendship.” God, how he wished he had the guts to just get it out of his system.

Instead he settled on watching her from the distance, not rushing to make a fool out of himself in front of both Dickhead and that freaking Rayner.

“Jace?” Dick interrupted his train of thought, smirking under his nose.

“What?!”

“Is this about her?”

“What? NO. Fuck no. She’s just my friend. My best friend.”

“Yeah, right, friends don’t look at friends that way.”

“Whatever!” Jason scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest sulking for a moment and sighing deeply. ‘I hate the way she’s smiling at him.” He mumbled “and she’s not even trying to hide it….” He pouted like a completely immature 5 year old.

“She’s an astrophysicist, Jason.” Dick patted his arm reassuringly “ You can’t blame her for being enthralled by all that crazy space-shit stuff he’s saying.”

“I don’t blame her.” Jason hissed “I blame him, you know? Do you ever just look at people and think: really? That’s the sperm that won?”

“No…..” Dick made a face in confusion. Damn it, if that were the thoughts coming into Jason’s mindthan it really was bad.

“Well, I do. And he’s the living proof of that.”

“Jason…..”

“He’s not even her type…” Todd muttered under his breath.

“And what exactly is her type?” Dick smirked again “Tall, dark haired, well-build douche? If you care about her …..”

“I don’t fucking care about her!” he yelled.

Too loud.

Whoopsy.

Not a chance she didn’t hear that, and the sudden outburst made her turn her head towards him. Shit, if he was red before, now he was simply crimson. Jason found himself between the devil and the deep blue see. Should he clear this little misunderstanding? Should he come clean? Or should he just run away leaving the ground burning?

“Jace?” she stuttered, her eyes growing wide, while Kyle took the chance and wrapped and arm around her shoulders protectively to give her some grounding “Is this about me?”

“Good luck, clearing that out, Jaybrid” Dick laughed, but hid it by pretending to sneeze.

“Shut up, Grayson!” Jason hissed through clenched teeth and slowly approached the girl and Kyle. “It was not about you. It was about some girl Grayson met and about whom he couldn’t shut up. You are my best friend, you know it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, right, best friend’ she mumbled looking down, moving slightly closer to Rayner and away from Jason. Oh, that was like a slap on the cheek. Like a sting right through his heart. Like a….

Was it disappointment in her eyes?

No, it couldn’t be…. Why would she be disappointed?

“Anyway, if you don’t mind, Rayner” Jason used the unimaginable amount of power to control himself “I would love to rescue my best friend from your hand. I bet whatever you say about space must be out of this world, but there are people who actually need her on Earth. On daily basis. Not just while dropping from time to time and leaving her hanging.”

“Oh, Todd.” Kyle cooed “aren’t you just so cute while trying to act like a knight in shining armor. But guess what, she doesn’t need your protection.”

“Right. The only one who’s going to need protection is you. From me.” Jason leaned forward eyeing the other boy with predatory gaze ‘I know what you are plotting, Rayner. And if you think I’m going to let you use her….”

“Is someone jealous?” Kyle scoffed “cause sure it seems you treat me like a threat.”

“Why don’t we take it outside so I can show you how much I am not scared of you. Maybe this time you will deal with someone equal to you rather than seducing girls with your fake charm!” Jason jumped to his feet, Kyle following right after and the tension was so palpable that most likely they wouldn’t even wait to go outside, just beat the shit of each other right inside.

“ENOUGH!” sudden scream coming from Y/N made them both gasp in surprise. Neither Jason nor Kyle has even seen her this angry. She was practically fuming and it was terrifying to see this normally calm, communicative and focused-on-peaceful-solutions-to-problems girl in such state. And it was them who pushed her to this point. She was not a meta or any other kind of superhero but at that moment she held the power of the hurricane and was about to throw it at them.

Shit.

“Y/N…” Jason raised his hands and tried to calm her down.

“Shut up, Jason!”

“ You heard the girl, shut up, Jason” Kyle laughed viciously

“THE SAME GOES FOR YOU RAYNER!”

“I’m sorry….” He whimpered and it was Jason’s turn to laugh.

“I am TIRED of being your toy. Exhausted to be precise. I’ve been making doe eyes at you, Todd for months now. Doe eyes that you chose to ignore every. single. fucking. time. And yet, the moment I move on from this silly, stupid, fucking, one-sided crush you decide to step it and ruin everything. Just because you wanted to? Just because you what? You get jealous now? Fuck, Jason, do you really think you can just do whatever you want, whenever you want, not caring about the others? Not caring what I have to say? Oh, hell no. You don’t hold such power over me. Not anymore.”

“Y/N….” Jason took a step forward, but she jumped away, almost like he was a disease she didn’t want to catch.

“Get away from me!” she hissed “We were just talking, you idiot! I was being nice, not that you know what it means! I’m done with both of you!”

“Wait, what did I do?” Kyle asked, now a bit confused

“Oh, nothing, sweetie.” Y/N mocked “just telling me the shit of improbable stories to make Jason angry while watching me laugh with you. Yeah, I noticed that.” She cut Jason off the moment he opened his mouth to say a thing in his defense “Well, genius, I was laughing at you, wondering when will you finally realize that I did my research and don’t believe a word you say. Are you familiar with the word sarcasm?”

“Haha! Burn!” Jason couldn’t help but let out a laugh

“And you, Todd, should  learn the meaning of the word honest. You are both losers. I want nothing to do with you. I’m out.”

And so she left. The only sound they heard after that was slamming of the door to her room. She had one at the Manor since her expert knowledge was sometimes needed and she was helping the bats while patrolling at night.

And then chewing on the cereals.

“Well that was quite the show….”

“SHUT UP GRAYSON!”

***

“Y/N? Please, open the door. I just wanna talk.”  Jason was knocking at her door for like 10 minutes now and yet, she didn’t bother answering and he started losing all hope.  Did he fuck up? Was all the chances he had with her gone just because he was a stupid idiot In love and therefore acting like crazy?

“She’s not there, you know.”  Tim emerged from his room, bothered by all the knocking and begging.

“What? then where is she?”

“Hm…. Not sure if I should tell you after everything that just went down…..”

“How do you….? Fuck, whatever. I swear if you don’t tell me where she hid I would burn all the coffee shops in the tristate area!”

“I equipped them all with the fireproof furniture and equipment a while ago. Had a feeling that sooner or later you will threaten me with the lack of coffee….Listen to me carefully, replacement…” Jason took a step forward, towering over Tim’s figure but before he could take any action, another voice joined the conversation.

“Boys. Why do you always have to act like savages? Y/N escaped to the roof. Guess she was in need of some air after that little outburst.”

“Thanks, Steph.”

“Always a pleasure. “ she winked “Oh, and Todd? Make sure to fix it. I really don’t like this Rayner guy, either.”

***

“Was it Steph? I know it was her.” Jason could only do as much as step into the rooftop when Y/N felt his presence. Apparently the time with bats sharpened her senses.

“Y/n. I just want to talk.”

“Ok. Sit. Talk. I’m listening.” She patted the spot next to her and Jason took it without any hesitation. She was willing to listen, maybe not everything was lost.

“I’m sorry” he sighed deeply and that made her turn her head and look straight into his eyes just to confirm if he actually did say the words she heard coming from him

“Wow! That would be the first time I ever heard you say a thing like that!” she laughed

“I mean it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was playing around with you or anything like this. It’s just…. just…..”

“What, Jace? Come on, just say it. Just be honest with me. I won’t laugh or judge you, I promise.”

“I had a crush on you.”

“Had?”

“All right, I still do!” he threw his hands in the air “Are you trying to humiliate me now?”

“For how long?” she asked looking at the space in front of her, not meeting his eyes and missing the fact that he was eyeing her with love sick puppy eyes, begging whatever deity was there that she would let him love her. Despite everything. He would put all the work in proving to her that he could be better. For her. For them. And if that required honesty – so be it.

“A year.” He muttered, almost inaudibly.

“A year?!” she cried “seriously, Jason! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“How was I supposed to tell you?! I didn’t know if you were feeling the same way! I couldn’t risk scaring you off. I couldn’t risk…. Losing you. ”

“You didn’t notice all those times when I was making a fool out of myself just to get your attention? I mean really, doe eyes?”

“I’m…. I’m not good with all that flirting and teasing and relationship stuff. I … I don’t recognize it well. Besides, you are my best friend and ….”

“And what?” she moved her whole body, so now she was not only facing him, but her whole figure was turned towards him “Just say it. Please.” She begged, looking straight into his eyes, not faltering for even a second. “Say it, cause I don’t think I can.”

“I wanna fuck up the friendship.” He gasped, not really believing the words coming out of his mouth. But once he started he just couldn’t stop the flow “I want to love you. I want to have you to myself. I want to be yours. I want to be able to hold you, touch you, kiss you. I don’t want to be just friends anymore. I want to make you mine. If you let a fool like me…..“

“And it’s not just because of Kyle?”

“Fuck no! I don’t give a single damn about him! I care about you, Y/N. In a more-than-friends way. I’m done pretending. ” he whispered looking down, his cheeks a bit reddened. Not a long though since she cupped his cheek and made him look at her.  “Please, be mine”he whimpered

“Jason, can you promise me you won’t act like a male ego embodied again?”

“I can’t.” he shook his head in resignation “I can’t cause I care too much and can’t help getting possessive sometimes and…..” She didn’t let him finish leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. This took him a bit by surprise, since he thought she was going to ditch him for not being able to promise her what she needed. And instead, she was kissing him?

Damn it, not just kissing, that was clearly an understatement. She was laying all her love on him. Those sweet, soft lips he was dreaming about for so long were on his, brushing over his gently and yet with so much passion he was practically melting. He wanted more and yet, all that tenderness and intimacy of sharing first kiss in the privacy of nighted rooftop was something to enjoy rather than to destroy by any urgency.

And so, even if still confused, he followed her lead, choosing delicacy and softness. Maybe it was what they both needed and enough to get him high and drunk on the feeling of her. He could feel her with every cell in his body. Her touches, her smell, her affection for him. All of it combined.

He barely held back a whine when she pulled back.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he whispered, his hands aching to touch her and hold her to his chest, but holding back because he needed her direct answer. “For acting like a dumbass?”

“You had me at I wanna fuck up the friendship” she laughed lightly, changing position and settling between his legs, not fighting or running away.  

“You have no idea how long I wanted to say it.” He answered, wrapping arms around her waist, pulling her closer and kissing her neck softly, inhaling the fresh scent of her shampoo “So long, baby… so fucking long…..”

“Glad you choose the moment when I was forgiving and merciful” she chuckled “’because you know, it could have backfired on you.”

“But you’re not leaving?” his grip on her tightened in a sudden fright this was all just a crazy dream and in a minute he would wake up in his own bed, alone and cold, still yearning for her, none of those words from before said in real life.

“No.” she put her soft hands on his biceps, caressing his skin and all those scars reassuringly “I made up my mind, Jason. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’m done pretending too.“ she turned her head and hid face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling her nose over his skin. “I love you.”

In the darkness of the roof, with almost no stars on the sky and with her eyes closed,  she didn’t notice few tears that gathered in Jason’s eyes and flowing down his cheeks.

He had her.

He finally had her.

And he was not going to let go.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 延禧攻略/Story of Yanxi Palace.

Story of Yanxi Palace is a high-budget 2018 Chinese harem drama about the historical-accuracy-adjacent antics of an extremely baller young woman who gets a job working in the Forbidden City in an attempt to discover the reasons behind her sister's death.

Imagine Nirvana in Fire, but only the scenes that take place inside the Inner Palace. So there's still schemes aplenty, but now these schemes are happening among a cast that's 90% women, all locked inside a walled city with rigid rules, excruciatingly strict hierarchies, and a very limited number of ways of getting out alive.

This show was huge in China. The English-language fandom is almost nonexistent. I'm betting most of you reading this have never even heard of it, and if you have, you have only the vaguest idea of what this 70-episode palace drama is about.

I enjoyed this show a whole hell of a lot. I also had some major issues with the show, to the point where I very nearly did not write this rec. But I'm doing it because I think the good parts of the show are worth seeing, and because I think the problem parts of the show are worth thinking about. Interested? Then follow me through these five reasons (and a few anti-reasons) I think you should watch it.

1. The Real Housewives of the Forbidden City

Tired of c-drama sausage fests? Want to see a bunch of incredibly talented ladies act their faces off? Then this is the show for you.

The vast majority of characters in the show are absolute bitches to one another. They are locked in a cutthroat game of power and manners where the stakes are literally life and death, so they spend their whole lives either plotting to take someone else down or counterplotting so the person trying to take them down gets taken down instead. They all know they can't trust one another, but they also sometimes can't not trust one another. They keep their friends close, and their enemies closer.

Unlike most other schemes-based shows, which are all about one big mystery, Story of Yanxi Palace has several smaller arcs. Remember the sister-murder I mentioned at the start? I was prepared for that to take the whole runtime of the show to solve; it actually gets (mostly) concluded around episode twenty-something. Antagonists arise and fall. Situations happen and resolve. Think of it less like a movie's single narrative, and more like a video game's multiple levels. Hooray, we finished Garden World! Now we get to go back to Palace World, but with way more EXP and powerups than we had before!

I know that looks like a bunch of lovely, high-class ladies in that shot, but it's not. It's a pit of vipers. Any woman in that lineup would straight-up shank pretty much any other woman in that lineup without hesitation or remorse. Every woman there knows exactly where she fits in the hierarchy and has a detailed plan for how to take out every woman above her to get to the top -- except for the one in black, who already did take out every woman above her to get to the top, and that's why everyone has to ostentatiously defer to her now.

If you are a fan of TV shows where folk scheme their way to success, this is really a can't-miss property for you.

This is also a show about how smart women have to become to survive being at the mercy of stupid men. Not only are the women being vicious to one another, they're doing so while simultaneousy having to pretend that they are pretty, delicate, vapid ornaments whose only thoughts are how they want the best for their precious emperor and his beloved mommy. It's all about the exercise of soft power, how to hide your knives behind silk sleeves and a sweet smile.

So okay, it's not quite as trashy as reality TV, but it's still bitchy as hell and incredibly fun to watch.

2. You love to hate her (and her, and him, and her)

Now if you've read pretty much any one of my previous recs, you know I like a good baddie, and this is a show with some good baddies. As I said in the last point, this is a show about bad people doing bad things entertainingly.

However, I am not going to tell you who most of the show's love-to-hate characters are, because the vast majority of them do not start out hateable. If the show introduces a female character and you like her, or a eunuch character and you like him, there is like an 85% chance they're going to do a heel turn. (And then sometimes do a face turn after? Look, schemes are complicated.)

But I will tell you about one bitch who's rotten from her first moment to her last: Noble Consort Gao.

Noble Consort Gao is the scenery-chewing, shit-stirring, absolute meanest mean girl in the palace, and it is so fucking entertaining. She's your major antagonist for the first half of the show. She's strategically mean, but she's also recreationally mean. She does the anime villainess laugh for real. Her actor, Tan Zhuo, has set her bitch dial to 11 and isn't even bothering to chew the scenery -- she's shredding it with those incredible metal claw-nails she wears.

Noble Consort Gao is a good starting antagonist because she's so blatantly evil -- and yet somehow still unstoppable. She's a good example of how you can get away with being pretty much openly sinister if you also manage to mind your manners. The reason she gets away with being so damn awful to everyone else is that she's still playing by all the rules. She's managed to weaponize every convention about propriety to lord her power over everyone else. She's like a fucking HOA.

And you'll notice I'm speaking about her with such fondness because she's delightfully awful. In fact, pretty much everyone in this show is delightfully awful. There are exceptions, but on the whole, you want to see them go down, yet you're also going to be a little sad when they go. Even Noble Consort, by the end, you get where she's coming from, and you feel a little bad for her on the way out.

Do you like vengeance? Because we've got some vengeance for you here. Many, many people in this show have been wronged, often by the people they trusted most. And of course they all respond to this in a healthy manner, seeking justice for themselves and for their loved ones through proper channels and reasonable means.

Ha ha, just kidding, everybody here is completely unhinged! The primary difference between a good guy and a bad guy in this show is how many innocent people they wind up taking down with the guilty party. It's messy as hell and we are making popcorn about it.

This is a show full of villains. In fact, this cast is pretty much entirely bad guys, semi-bad guys, potential bad guys, and good people who had to do bad things to survive. There are maybe two non-child characters who are Just Plain Good that don't get nuked almost immediately. Everyone else is some shade of grey. Even our hero (and we'll get to her in a minute) is pretty yikes-inducing cruel when she needs to be.

Going to say this as clearly as I can: This is not a show for people who cannot tolerate moral ambiguity. This is a show for people who love to watch clever bastards work. And pretty much nobody's more of a bastard than Noble Consort Gao.

Ladies and gentlemen, the cunt is served.

3. No, seriously, this is actually what it all looked like

If you are at all interested in this actual time period, you owe it to yourself to see this dedicated work of historical recreation.

The amount of research and detail that went into this production is honestly mind-blowing. Because this show is set in the 18th century, we actually have some pretty great documentation about the places, objects, and people involved in this story -- including some (slightly later, obviously) photographs! The production went all out in its attempts to replicate the setting, including using period-appropriate techniques to create various accessories and objects.

The outfits are amazing -- and excruciatingly accurate in several aspects. I've seen more than a couple people say that their first reaction to the costumes was, ho hum, kind of boring. Well, yeah, compared to some of the absolutely bugfuck-complicated wearable works of art from earlier periods, these are a little understated. But then you start paying attention to the million little details: the embroidery, the hair ornaments, the layers, the fabrics. A whole team of people clearly put a huge amount of work into these outfits.

Nearly every royal character in the show is a real person. You could spoil yourself for several major plot beats just by going to Wikipedia. In fact, I accidentally did this, because I was reading the show's DramaWiki page and thought, oh, that's interesting; I understand why the actor names are links (because it takes you to the actors' pages), but why are so many of the character names also links? Turns out: Wikipedia! So, uh, careful where you click.

One of the great things about the show is how utterly claustrophobic it is. Most of it takes place within the heavily guarded walls of the Forbidden Palace; on the very few occasion it goes somewhere else, you're just traveling to other walled manors and villas. There's one brief scene in a forest, and the psychological difference is enormous. You see a few trees and you're immediately like, oh, so that's why these women are going crazy in their gilded cages.

The drama even shows how some of the least glamorous parts of the Forbidden Palace work: the chamber pots, the coal for furnaces, the mopping, the weeding, the laundry, the fire brigades. It's an enormous production, keeping what is basically a 178-acre city-state running to imperial standards. It's nice to see a drama that acknowledges that while rich people may want to see only clean walkways and fresh sheets, those things don't happen by magic.

If anything, knowing about all this detailed research makes the unintentionally funniest scene in the entire show -- the one with the eunuchs playing Western instruments -- ten times funnier. You had artisans spending months doing exact recreations of historical hairpins, and you couldn't spend thirty seconds asking the internet "when were saxophones invented?" or "does an accordion make noises like a string quartet?" Perfect. No notes.

Trust me when I say you'll get used to the queue haircuts on the dudes. It helps that most of the time, they're facing the camera so they just look like they've got their heads fully shaved, and most of them have heads that look very good shaved! ...Most.

4. The kind of girl who'd make Mei Changsu say damn

The show has a strong ensemble cast, but the woman at the core of all the action is the tough-as-nails protagonist, Wei Yingluo.

The details we have on the actual Lady Wei are sparse. She doesn't really exist as a person in the historical record, to the point where we don't even know her given name (if she even had one) or when she showed up to the palace. We mostly know when she got given her titles, how many kids she gave birth to, some of what she did later in life, and when she died. The show takes these historical gaps and just runs with them, weaving into the silences a narrative that, while implausible, could have happened!

The show starts when Wei Yingluo enters the Forbidden City, not as a royal lady concubine, but as a regular little maid. She's got an agenda, though -- as mentioned earlier, her sister has died tragically, and she wants to figure out why. The stakes get higher as it becomes clear just how much people don't want this question answered, for their sakes as much as for hers.

She very quickly realizes that she can't just live a quiet life and snoop around casually. Too many people are out to get her, and if she's going to survive, she's got to fuck with them before they fuck with her. And they are wholly unprepared for the self-destructive lengths to which she will go to to fuck with them.

Wu Jinyan deserves all the accolades for turning in a great performance. She has to be completely all over the board emotionally and energy-wise for seventy whole episodes, and she brings it. She's very funny and physical when the show calls for her to be! She's willing to flail around and stuff her face and ugly-cry. Then she turns on the don't-mess-with-me stare and the temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Did she get some award for this? [checks her DramaWiki page] Okay, she got several awards for this, good. Even in a huge cast this talented, she's an absolute standout. I can't wait to see her in the Double, which is definitely on my to-watch list.

I'm not going to call Wei Yingluo a Mary Sue, because that's not accurate, but this girl does have some serious plot armor on. You never get the sense that she hasn't earned it, though. She's smart, capable, and more than a little completely fucking crazy. The show makes you believe that the reason she survives most of the shit she pulls off is that everyone is just so baffled that anyone would try it at all that they don't even know how to respond.

I thought about starting out this rec post with Wei Yingluo -- putting her above the cut, in fact, because she really is that compelling. She's back here, though, because it's with Wei Yingluo that we start to slide into my points of critique. Too often, female protagonists are here to solve the problem with their cuteness and quirkiness and extra-special perfectness that shows up all the other girls and captures the heart of whatever boy she needs to save the day. And no matter how this show starts off wanting to make her something different, it ultimately can't conceive of a female lead who isn't at her core just like that.

The writers can never decide how much Wei Yingluo's Manic Pixie Dream Girl act is an act, and how much she means it. The show introduces her as a stone-cold psychopath who is capable of feigning being a carefree brainless uwu smol bean. Later it decides, actually, she's really at her core a spunky, soft-hearted creature who likes to goof off and is just capable of switching on Scheming Bitch Mode when she needs it! And it's like, are you kidding? You just spent like forty episodes telling me that it's all a big trick when she does this, and now you're saying it's not anymore?

It's like they made a character capable of decieving men, and then got decieved by her, which you have to respect. Any fictional character can fool another fictional character; only true legends fool their creators.

sidebar: fuck that dude

The show can never fully commit to this bit, because he's supposed to be our big heroic love interest, but the emperor fucking sucks.

Hands-down the show's biggest moral is that All Emperors Are Bastards -- yes, even the ones in relationships we're supposed to find cute; yes, even the ones whose lifestyles we're supposed to envy; yes, even the ones played superbly by the devastatingly handsome Nie Yuan. While watching we repeatedly invoked this tweet:

Being a billionaire must be insane. You can buy new teeth, new skin. All your chairs cost 20,000 dollars and weigh 2,000 pounds. Your life is just a series of your own preferences. In terms of cognitive impairment it's probably like being kicked in the head by a horse every day

He is the dumbest, most easily played motherfucker in China. Getting horny makes him stupid, and he's horny all the time. He has absolute power over the lives of everyone in the empire, and you can distract him with the mere suggestion of a vagina. He has taken a full You Girls Fight It Out Amongst Yourselves stance toward his scheming harem. This will not go well for anyone.

And speaking of those wives, no matter how many times they loudly profess their undying devotion to him, I have a rough time imagining these women feel anything for the Emperor beyond exhausted contempt. Well, okay, maybe the Empress who married him before he took the throne, since she had a chance to get to know him before he was in full Emperor Mode. But none of the other women should ever stop dunking on this guy like the gullible shitbag he is. If you (like me!) are already skeptical about any given heterosexual romance in fiction, be prepared to roll your eyes through the Big True Love Story this one tries to sell you.

5. Right on the cusp of a fascinating feminist conclusion!

I may be on this one for a while; skip ahead if you like.

Okay, so: What little English-language buzz I've seen about this show has used the word "feminist" about it -- mostly in conjunction with how the show's popularity made the CCP sour on its failure to portray appropriate communist values (???). So I went into it expecting feminism! And I got a show with a whole bunch of female characters in it! And hoo boy, are those two things not necessarily the same!

This show is a great example of how merely passing the Bechdel-Wallace Test doesn't make something feminist. Sure, it's mostly about a single woman who, through her plucky nature, rises in the ranks of power. But that is feminist only by the shallowest, most girlboss, Lean-In-ass definition of the word.

At the beginning, you can kinda tell this was written, produced, and directed by men. By the time you get to the end, you can absolutely tell that the production team was dudes from top to bottom. This, to me, is the big tell: that the show cannot conceive that anything these women are doing could be interesting unless it's trying to stab another woman in the back. There is a time jump very near the end, where the few female characters still standing agree to stop being shitty to one another -- and then fast-forward a decade, because why would we care about seeing what their lives are like when they're not being shitty to one another?

The show is incredibly constrained by Actual History. At the end of the day, it's a Cinderella story, and as such, we have to cheer for the social and legal mechanisms that make it possible -- even when they're grotesquely misogynistic. The show lets its female characters pay lip service to how awful it is that women are little more than breeding stock, but it doesn't let them do anything about it. Mothers can be obliquely sad that their daughters are being fed to the same patriarchy machine that fucked them up, but talking is the most they can accomplish ... because those daughters were real people who were actually fed into the patriarchy machine. We know this. We have documentation. China is very good at keeping receipts.

Wei Yingluo starts out as a servant, and throughout the first half of the show, she moves up and down in the servant ranks -- and all the while it makes the point that being a servant fucking sucks. Maybe it's better when you get to work directly under someone you really like, but the actual job sucks shit and puts you at the mercy of everyone above you in the palace hierarchy. Your life is not your own. You're barely a person. You can easily get executed for merely working in the same household as someone who broke the rules.

The feminist answer to this dilemma is to notice that the system is bad and either a) refuse to participate in it, or b) use your power to mitigate its badness. The show, however, clearly thinks that the real problem with this whole setup is that the people we like aren't at the top of it. Somebody has to take the abuse; you just don't want that somebody to be you. Once Wei Yingluo gets to a place of real power in the palace hierarchy, she starts behaving very much like the people who used to be shitty to her and takes no steps to prevent the early-show damage she suffered from happening to other people.

Now: You can make the argument that if she'd done all those radical things, she would've been dead meat -- and I think you'd be correct! But the show never indicates that it gives a second thought to how abusive and unfair this all is. Survival in this system means exploiting the people below you. There's not a neutral option. And this show expects you to cheer for exploiting the "right" people.

The show never quite seems to internalize what the stakes are -- at least, not for more than a moment or two at a time. I made the Real Housewives joke because the show more or less treats the consort-on-consort schemes as fun catfights by mean girls wanting to be the prom queen. It almost gets to the point of realizing that a woman's place in the harem is literal life-and-death shit for her, and that if she can't produce a son and work him into a powerful position, she's fucked. It always bunts when it gets there, though, choosing to play up vanity and petty grievances instead of the absolute desperation these women must be feeling.

It gets so close with Consort Shun to a real discussion about how awful it is that the men in their lives see them as pretty objects to be bartered for favor and power with other men. But it can't fully go there, because that would undermine the structures propping up this Cinderella story, and then we couldn't feel good about the Cinderella story. And we want to feel good about the Cinderella story. We will burn every other female character in the show if we get to feel good about the Cinderella story.

I've made a lot of jokes about lesbians in this show, but the truth is, it is chronically deficient in lesbianism. Lesbian sex would have improved the lives of at least half the characters here, if not more. Unlike a lot of other historical c-drama shows, Yanxi Palace acknowledges the reality and possibility both male and female same-sex sexual desire -- but it does so in order to say that both are bad. (I legitimately cannot tell if the production is doing this to show how regrettably anti-gay the past was or to play on the audience's expected homophobic disgust. I suspect the latter, but I genuinely don't know.) While it does the fascinating thing of showing desire and coupled relationships between women and eunuchs, it has no idea how queer those setups are, nor does it acknowledge the possibility for same-sex pairings to fill that same positive dynamic.

So why on earth would I list this whole mess of problematic attitudes as a reason for, and not against, watching the show?

Because it is fascinating to think about. Look, I've burned a lot of time and brainpower here writing several paragraphs that no one is ever going to read about how interesting the show's moves are. It has the weird problem where it understands what happens when you lock a bunch of women together in a high-pressure situation keyed to a brutal hierarchy -- but it doesn't ever appear to quite get why. At least, not beyond the sense that people will claw their way to the top of any hierarchy they have access to, just because it's there. (Watch how it treats the few exceptions to this, the rare nonambitious characters. See how long they stay nonambitious.)

As I said when I labeled this point, the show is just on the edge of a smart conclusion, and that smart conclusion has to do with how awful it is that women are both the people who suffer most under heteropatriarchy and the people who work the hardest to uphold it.

Yes, the world into which these women have been thrust is awful. But they make it ten times more awful because they're all semi-voluntarily engaged in a vicious, Highlander-esque zero-sum competition. They could cut one another some slack, but they're more invested in continuing the cycle of abuse to maintain an intense, repressive order. The ones that try to be kind about it get repeatedly fucked by the ones who have no interest in kindness. They all have to engage in performative rituals that mimic sincerity without actually producing a single genuine emotion toward one another. It's horrifying and paranoia-inducing in the extreme. And they're doing most of it to themselves.

If it were really feminist, the moral of the Story of Yanxi Palace would be it does't have to be like this. This dynamic is not inevitable; this is a choice perpetuated by generations of people who benefit from it just enough not to question its correctness.

Sadly, there's still enough promise in patriarchy that being a Good Girl will save you from the shit we put the Bad Girls through -- so don't you want to be a Good Girl? All we need you to do is throw all those icky Bad Girls under the bus. It's their fault for being Bad Girls anyway. But you? You don't have to be afraid. We're not going to hurt you. You deserve all the good things we're giving you. You're not like all the other girls. You're different. You're special.

Just don't forget to watch your back.

If anything, I think the CCP is terribly wrong: This show is an excellent demonstration of communist values, in that if these women had just joined together in solidarity, all their lives would have been so much better! The Emperor should have been posting helplessly on Reddit like "My (55M) consorts (40F, 36F, 31F, 28F, 22F, 19F) have unionized" so the entire internet could come for his ass.

Care to watch?

This is another of those shows you can find in a whole bunch of places! Here's the ones I know about:

YouTube

TVBAnywhere

Viki

Tubi

iQiyi

I know seventy episodes is a commitment. I know eighteenth-century palace drama is a lot. I know that last selling point of mine seemed to go on for-fucking-ever and you probably didn't read any of it. But this show is a beautiful work that I think more people should see, warts and all. Besides, if all we ever consume is ideologically "pure" media, how do we learn to think critically about anything?

True story: My Chinese colleague, knowing I was watching this show, taught me slang for "lesbian." It's 拉拉 (lala). Very useful.

[ciahasnolife]

I knoooow, I should post the second part of the loscar fic but... I might've or might not have been working on a lestappen omegaverse fic?

So here's a wip of it

So the problem with being an omega while everyone thinks you're an alpha is that they treat you like an alpha. It's not like Max wanted any special treatment, exactly the opposite of that. That's why he hid his secondary gender from the public who just then assumed he's an alpha. With his board shoulders, his careless reputation towards the media and with his bluntness it was logical. Since the FIA and pretty much everyone in the paddock already knew, he doesn't have to tell the world which he is grateful for.

He would hate being pictured as a fragile, weak person who needs someone to take care of him. He is a lot of things but weak is not one of them. But sometimes - just sometimes - when people boo at him for example on the podium at the Miami GP, he just wants to hide in his nest, curled around his boyfriend, who would then draw circles on his back with his other hand soothingly in his hair.

There are two problems with that. One is that he for obvious reasons can't do that and the other is that he doesn't have a boyfriend. He doesn't want to share with anyone that he's an omega because of the fear of them telling the whole world if something goes wrong between them, his father made sure he developed this fear very soon after he presented as an omega. His father was so angry and ashamed of him because of something he couldn't even change. So now, he doesn't really trust anyone except for the ones who already know, not that he would have the time for dating, he's too busy breaking records.

Besides, he wouldn't want anyone else but a certain man with the most charming style you've ever seen and his hot accent, a dream come true. Of course, with a personality and looks like that, the alpha has omegas after himself 24/7. Max couldn't even stand a chance.

The point is, that when people whistle or boo at him, he just wants to hide away. Under the covers or preferably behind the alpha but of course in those moments he can't do either.

So when he's about to do his interview, which he doesn't want either and if neither the fans are interested, they could all just leave it, but no, the fans have to boo at him and whistle and make him feel bad because neither of the Ferrari drivers could catch him, he couldn't be more grateful for Charles to shush them. And if he's being completely honest, it makes him fall for the monégasque even more.

He shoots a quick smile at the other and does his interview then goes on with his day like he always does on quali days. Team debrief, stay in with GP to find the perfect strategy for tomorrow's race, go back to the hotel, get the scent blockers off and go shower. What he doesn't expect is a message waiting for him as he gets out of the shower from someone who makes his heart flutter.

Hey, just wanted to check on you, if you're okay?

Charles:

I know that the Italian fans can be a bit harsh on everyone who isn't at Ferrari.

I'm sorry they're so mean to you :(

And Max can't believe his eyes. Because one, did Charles really waste even a minute on texting him instead of basking in the love of the Tifosi and two, was that a sad face?

He just shakes his head and replies.

Yeah, everything's alright.

Max:

Thanks for shushing them, means a lot

The last bit gets deleted before he sends it. Not like it doesn't mean a lot, he's just afraid that he's giving away too much and the younger will learn about his embarrassingly huge crush on him.

He doesn't think too much of it though just makes his way over to his suitcase to get a fresh pair of boxers out of it.

But as he goes back to the bed and picks his phone back up with his WhatsApp with the monégasque still open, he sees the three dots pop up and then disappear only to reappear seconds later.

It makes the omega curious because even if they’ve been on good terms, friends even with the other for a while now they don't really talk outside the track on race weekend so the first message was already unexpected just as it was also sweet of the alpha to check on him, Max can't even take a guess on what the other would want from him.

As he was thinking the text finally came in so he checks it with a bit too much enthusiasm. And Max once again can't believe his eyes.

Which hotel you're staying at?

Charles:

Just as he goes to reply, another bubble comes up.

Fuck, no, that sounded weird.

Charles:

I meant if I could come over to keep you company and I could also get away from the fans waiting for my every move under my window.

It is of course okay if you want to be alone I totally understand that too

Just thought we could hang out a for a bit play

With each mesaage his eyes open wider. Surely Charles finally lost his mind. I was only a matter of time anyway with the shitbox he has under him. He, however, doesn't want to be rude so he sends out a message that - hopefully - doesn't give away too much of how excited he is.

Sure, I have my FIFA on me if you're in the mood of losing

Max:

He can only hope that the other gets the joke because Max has been told that he's a dry texter several times. But today, luck decided to be on his side.

Ooh, it's on

Charles:

Send the address, Verstappen

If you dare;)

And with a grin that could blind the Tifosi camping outside the alpha's hotel, Max sends the address.