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planetdream · 1 month ago

Text

striped carnations.

characters. hwang hyunjin, reader, lee minho + special guests

genre. angst, flower shop!au. words. 5.6k

synopsis. upon hearing the news that your boyfriend is going to propose to you, hyunjin realizes that he's had feelings for you all along

fic contents: hyunjin is both a chronic overthinker and a hopeless romantic. needless pining. angst. heartbreak. talks of marriage and relationships. suggestive content: hookups; heavy make out + implied drunk sex.

💌 if you think you've seen this before, it's because you have! I deleted it like a month ago lmao....but here it is again <3

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a big fan of flowers. A flower can describe the emotions behind every pivotal moment in one’s lifetime—a wedding, a funeral, graduation, or a life-changing event—though not limited to only those situations; Hyunjin's love for, and belief in flowers reaches across all occasions and sentiments. His admiration of flowers as a whole goes beyond the smell, or how visually pleasing and/or vibrant in color they look. Flowers allow him to express feelings that he feels words simply cannot—even if no one else around him understands it in the way he does. Hyunjin loves flowers because of the stories you can tell with them, and thus, he chooses to document his life with flowers.

As a small child, Hyunjin would pick flowers at the park for his mother; or one of his various personal art projects. A bundle of flowers bunched up in his tiny little hands as he ran to his mother with the widest, dimpled grin he could make. To his mother, the flowers are a sweet sentiment of his admiration towards the woman raising him. However, to Hyunjin they meant so much more than that—a physical manifestation of a deep awareness that he couldn’t find the words to explain until he matured as a person. This habit of gifting flowers out of pure emotion was probably the one constant in his life other than the crushing weight of heartbreak.

Heartbreak is much like flowers. It has so many different colors and feels, it takes on a multitude of shapes and smells—and it is pretty easy to romanticize.

When Hyunjin was in kindergarten, he gifted a daisy to a girl he had a small crush on. She ended up stomping on them, but that didn’t stop little Hyunjin from pining after her. The tradition of Hyunjin picking flowers as a romantic gesture continued in a slightly different way as he got older, and the helpless pining after something unattainable never stopped. Coincidentally, a few of his exes are named after flowers—the unfortunate downside of that is that it still pains him to look at whatever flower the ex had been named after, even if they ended the relationship on good terms.

These are some moments and beliefs that have shaped Hyunjin—and his future.

In the second to last year of his high school career, Hyunjin began working at a flower shop close to his childhood home. Morning Glory Floral—located between a convenience store and a bookstore (both of which are frequented by Hyunjin)—is a tiny little flower shop that Hyunjin knows like the back of his hand. He’d originally started out as a cashier and order taker until he eventually worked his way up to being one of three floral designers at the shop.

He typically runs the shop most days of the week, opening in the early morning and closing in the late afternoon unless he happens to work Thursday, Friday, or Saturday—on those days the store is open until 7PM. Hyunjin usually arrives an hour, or sometimes two, before the shop opens just to get a headstart on things. He prints out invoices, splitting the orders between their type—local, domestic/international; additionally divided between funeral, wedding, and those non-applicable—as well as making sure pre-made flower arrangements are ready for pickup. The shop is fairly busy on a normal day (although that typically comes down to season), therefore, a lot of Hyunjin’s time during the day is making sure things are running smoothly and without delay.

Floral design is an art. One of the many forms of art and creative expression that Hyunjin excels within. In his mind, floral design can easily be compared to architecture or interior design (both Hyunjin contemplated as career options). The vase is the foundation—who or what is this flower arrangement for? What color helps express the emotions behind the arrangement? Then—what flowers should be used (if the customer doesn’t have a request)? What should be the focal flower that grabs people's attention? Do the flowers chosen represent the overall message? Which filler flowers and greenery should be used? The shape of the arrangement matters too. As do a lot of other minuscule details.

The details are important to him. Making sure the customer is satisfied with his creation is easy, hardly anything to worry about, but making sure that he’s satisfied with the work he’s done is an entirely different thing. A simple glance at Hyunjin creating a flower arrangement and it doesn’t seem like it takes too much time or energy. He moves in fluid movements, placing one flower after the other, a blank expression on his face. In reality, it’s a time-consuming process and it takes a lot of thought and precision to create the arrangements he does. Still, his hard work pays off greatly. He didn’t know he’d be where he is today, but he’s great at what he does—which is why people always come back.

His favorite floral arrangements to make are the ones that have to do with romantic love—a date, wedding, or anniversary—since Hyunjin feels it gives him a lot more freedom for creative expression. Like floral design, love is of significant importance to Hyunjin, especially romantic love. Seeing people express their love and admiration for each other via flowers is beautiful to him, as he is a hopeless romantic after all.

A small order of carnations arrived at the shop one morning. Unmarked and not on any receipt nor written in any book. Carnations are typically cut flowers (as in, used for decorative purposes), so consequently, it’s not unlikely for the shop to have extra, especially since Felix, one of the other floral designers, loves to use them for arrangements. The flowers catch Hyunjin’s eye in particular, not only because they’re striped carnations, but because there are three of them, obviously not enough to do much with unless for a small arrangement.

Felix, as full of knowledge as he is, once explained to Hyunjin that during the Victorian era, carnations were used to speak very straightforwardly. Unlike other flowers that have many different, complicated, and often overlapping meanings, carnations could be used to respond to something—like a love proposal. If one was asking another for their hand in marriage, the recipient of the proposal may respond with a yes by giving the proposer a solid color carnation, such as pink, white, or even red; however, the yellow carnations mean no. Striped carnations generally mean a refusal of love, almost regrettably so. I love you, but I cannot be with you. A message that Hyunjin is more than familiar with.

Perhaps it’s an omen. A sign that he’s going to fall headfirst into another relationship resulting in yet another heartbreak. A sign that if he falls for someone again, he may not get back up this time. Hyunjin often wonders if fate is real—he knows it is, he can feel that it's real—but has he been fated to fall in love over and over again just to reach the same emotionally catastrophic end that he always does? Maybe he did something in a past life that would warrant this anguish.

He shakes the thought from his mind, for the time being, choosing instead to blissfully and ignorantly fall victim to his subconscious. He won’t admit it out loud, and when the thought arises, he pushes it out of his mind in embarrassment, but Hyunjin loves the feeling of heartbreak. It stings. In both the worst way and the best way. And while he genuinely does hate heartbreak, it’s almost like he’s addicted to it.

And then the bell of the door rings, signaling to Hyunjin that there’s a new customer. He looks up from behind the counter and his eyes meet Lee Minho, your boyfriend.

You and Hyunjin had met in the fourth grade. It can only be described now, all of these years later, as an instantaneous click. You both felt comfortable with each other and eventually opted to do everything together, very soon becoming the best of friends. From grade school to adulthood, you’ve kept a secure friendship. Confiding in each other about everything—when one of you is low, the other is sure to pick them up.

There’s a sheepish smile on Minho’s face as he approaches the counter. The expression takes Hyunjin aback. The smile is surprising because Hyunjin swears that the older man typically has a permanent scowl on his face. Hyunjin greets him, giving a small smile and a wave.

“Need flowers for a date?” Hyunjin asks, fixing his standing posture.

“For something better actually,” Minho’s smile grows wider, as if he cannot contain it. Hyunjin thinks this might be the biggest smile he’s ever seen across Minho’s face. Minho places his hands onto the cold surface of the counter, lightly tapping in it. “I’m proposing this weekend.”

Hyunjin’s jaw drops in awe. Never had he thought Minho was a man interested in marriage. Not only that, this means he’d be losing his best friend to married life. Next thing he knows, you’ll start having kids! His mind begins to race around, unforgiving.

When Hyunjin the two of you were younger, you and Hyunjin would talk about your hopes and aspirations for the future. Of course, the topic of marriage and creating a family entered the conversation. You expressed that when you truly love someone, there’s no need to get the law involved for a piece of paper. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, he felt that your reasoning was a bit childish, joyous of true, deep love. However, when you told him that though, it put a couple of things into perspective—most significantly, how you and Hyunjin are opposites. Hyunjin aches to get married and wants a few children too, he thinks the idea is beautiful. Still, for Hyunjin, the possibility of him actually getting married feels too far-fetched; unimaginable, and unattainable. Would anyone love him enough to want to marry him?

Minho breaks Hyunjin away from the depth of his mind. “I was thinking of a nice bouquet to give them, and you’re my guy for that.”

Hyunjin exhales as he looks at Minho. He can’t even crack a small smile. He feels he should be happy—but something within him feels wrong. Someone dear to his heart is getting married and he can’t even pretend to be excited. He should be happy for you. He knows he should be happy for you; but he cannot find happiness within himself at all at this moment.

Hyunjin and Minho aren’t exactly friends. Had it not been for you, they doubt they would have even crossed paths. It’s not that Hyunjin doesn’t like Minho, he’s a cool, upstanding guy; but is he worth being your boyfriend? Let alone, is he worth being your husband? In Hyunjin’s perspective, absolutely not. Sure, from the things you tell him, Minho treats you with love, care, and the utmost respect, but Hyunjin thinks there’s something…off about him, even after four years of you and Minho being together. From Minho’s perspective, it’s obvious that Hyunjin has a crush on you. He’s teased you about it multiple times, but to you it seems highly unlikely that your best friend since practically forever would be in love with you—but it happens.

“Here, I’ll show you the ring.” Minho fishes into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a black velvet box. He opens the box, places it on the counter, and turns it to Hyunjin.

The ring is gorgeous. Hyunjin can tell it’s been updated and has had a few repairs, probably a ring kept within the family. He knows this because after looking at so many rings, both through work and in his own free time (self-admittedly pathetic of him to just go looking for engagement rings and wedding bands while he’s desperately single), he’s starting to notice the small differences.

“Wow.” Is the only thing that leaves Hyunjin’s mouth.

Minho continues to talk, but it all goes in one ear and out of the other. Hyunjin is lost within his head. One thought after another, layering and locking himself within his own mind. Hyunjin remains on auto-pilot for the rest of his conversation with Minho. Towards the end of it, Hyunjin fishes out the most pathetic fake smile he possibly could. Hyunjin, per usual, promises to do his best at making the best floral arrangement he possibly can. Before he leaves, Minho says something to Hyunjin that sticks with him for the rest of his day.

“They’ve always liked your arrangements, so just do what you do best. I trust you.”

The carnations are back. Another three.

Coincidentally, they arrived on the same day that Hyunjin has to create the floral arrangement for Minho’s proposal. Hyunjin can’t lie, while this project was constantly on his mind; subconsciously putting all the pieces together one by one—he absolutely put the entire thing off until the last minute. Hyunjin has never once dreaded coming into work until now. Just the thought of working on the arrangement makes him sick to his stomach. But now there’s no more time left.

Everything that Hyunjin needs for the making of the arrangement is spread out right in front of him.

He chooses a white vase as the foundation—white, along with being a symbol of purity or innocence, is also a symbol of new beginnings and marriage, the latter representing what the arrangement means as a whole—sleek and rounded in an hourglass shape. Usually, for engagement bouquets, Hyunjin uses a clear vase to ensure that the flowers stay healthy and alive (of course while being taken care of). However, neither you nor Minho are any good when it comes to taking care of flowers, so Hyunjin figures he can do whatever he wants when it comes to his creation.

The foliage comes first—Hyunjin preps the stems, pulling off the lower leaves that might hang in the water, clipping the ends off the stems before they dive into the water. Floral arranging is not only art, it’s a science. The plants have to be inserted into the vase at an angle so that the arrangement can take shape. The arrangement needs to be balanced and colorful, preferably. Vase arrangements require layering, it’s easier to start with the heavier flowers first; two red chrysanthemums on opposing sides. He cuts the stems so that the flowers hang low in the vase, almost acting as a focal point if not for his statement flowers.

As a standard for his arrangements and bouquets, Hyunjin chooses flowers that signify love and new beginnings. He also needs to make sure that the flowers he chose actually look nice in the bouquet, as if not, he feels the need to completely start over.

As he works on his creation, Hyunjin allows himself to get lost within his thoughts. Everytime someone comes into the shop, a smile on their face as they’re picking out flowers for their lover; Hyunjin feels something within him break, just a tiny crack at the surface of his identity. For a brief moment, with his work, he’s allowed to peak into the lives—the relationships—of others. Everything from the great moments of excitement to the bad moments that hope and pray to be forgiven. All of it sends Hyunjin spiraling into the depths of his memory.

He remembers his high school years. Going back to classes after the summer he hit a growth spurt. His voice got a bit deeper, too. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Hyunjin was desirable. Shy as he was, he enjoyed it. And after a few experiences, he’d seemingly gotten over his timid behavior, though still introverted. It was a strange time. He remembers falling deep into infatuation only for things to not pan out. Before the situationship begins, the sharp sting of heartbreak lingers.

Just a few months back, Hyunjin got his heart broken yet again when his now ex-girlfriend left him to get back with her ex; some total loser named Changbin, of whom she had been originally dating sometime before Hyunjin. It’s not you, it’s me, she said. I just don’t feel the same as you, she said. Maybe we’ll meet later in life, or in the next, she said. He knew she didn’t mean it. That she was just feeding into his past-life and karmic romantic ideologies to lessen the blow. Within that same week (at minimum, three days later), he sees a mutual friend post a picture from a double date including said ex and her boyfriend.

It stung. Badly. And he’s over it now. In fact, he’s so over it that he can hardly remember her name. Sooyun? Miyeong? See? He can’t remember it. It wasn’t the worst breakup that Hyunjin has experienced. Not by a mile. The worst actually was a couple of years ago, his longest relationship which lasted a year exactly, getting betrayed on the one-year anniversary of their one-sided love. The memory still stings, so Hyunjin prefers not to talk about it—but once it comes time for self-reflection, he thinks of the memories in awe—sickly attached to the distant memory of something that failed to work out. What if? He thinks.

But three months (yeah, his most recent relationship was only three months; yes, he’s still a bit broken) with someone—constantly talking to them, getting acquainted with their lifestyle, seeing them often, kissing them, feeling them—changes a person; for better or for worse. So, Hyunjin is lucky he got out of it with only hurt feelings. A faint tug at his heart and, understandably, anger surrounding the situation, if anything. Nothing unmanageable that he can’t work or date away.

Past relationships have driven him into a slump. Depressed and unable to create or live, even, until he finds himself somewhere within the next person—both metaphorically and actually—when he’s really at his worst; the ‘best’ thing to do is to relieve his stress by burying himself inside of someone in an effort to escape intense personal feelings. This occasionally backfires whenever he catches feelings for whoever he fucks and the cycle repeats itself. Over and Over. An unfortunate life lesson that Hyunjin has to continue repeating: spiritually, possibly due to the sins made in a past life; but actually, because he rarely ever learns from past mistakes, especially if it has to do with romance.

Hyunjin, is, quite simply, a hopeless romantic in every sense of the term, but at a specific level of naivety. Aching to see the good in people or a situation even if it has near-disastrous results to his psyche. Before even speaking to someone, he’d have already envisioned their first few dates, their marriage, and growing old together. It embarrasses him badly. And no matter how many times he has to sit down with himself, reminding himself to calm down, that he should take things slowly, he’s already experiencing heartbreak.

He’s tried the dating scene multiple times since this most recent breakup. A few dates here and there, and more than a few hook-ups as well (What can he say? He’s a single man). He was mostly encouraged by other friends, and you, to reopen his Tinder account and get back out there. And Hyunjin, easily influenced, did just that. It didn’t last long though, simply due to the fact that he found himself bored almost immediately after each date or hookup. He’s simply wandering through life, boldly yet blindly, without inspiration.

Then he feels that spark. It’s just as he’s putting the finishing touches on his creation.

That very familiar, almost sickening spark deep within his soul that he found himself craving after going so long without. Feelings. Of the romantic variety. For you. He can say that he initially realized them during a party hosted by a friend of a friend. You were surrounded by some of your close friends, drinking, and smiling all pretty as you do; and that’s when it started. It was like the universe expanded in a way that could be physically felt—similar to that of an out of body experience—an intensity that feels so right. He could damn near feel the temperature changing in the room due to some kind of universal shift. The vibrations of the music gets heavier, and the chatter of people blurs together—time slows down but is going all too fast.

But perhaps he’s had these feelings for you for a while now. Maybe since you first met as children. Hiding them deep within himself. Covering up his feelings by searching for you through countless other people. Perhaps it is why many of his relationships never work out.

It has to be fate calling out to him. Hyunjin clings to this thought and the feeling that it gives him.

Hyunjin questions himself like he does every time he realizes that he has feelings for someone. What do I like about them? He ponders it. Though it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. Everything. He likes everything about you. From the way you type on your phone to how you order food at restaurants. He loves how concentrated you get when reading something and he likes how you walk a little weirdly. He likes your opinions and the way you see the world. Those small, specific things that make you who you are, are what Hyunjin loves. You as a person, inside and out. The good and the bad. All desirable and undesirable things.

This is bad. Really bad. The realization feels bad.

Hyunjin has had feelings for tons of his friends before. He never tells them, but if he does—because hey, life is short—then it never goes past a -with-benefits label. His friends mean a lot to him, and while a romance could strengthen a relationship, it could also weaken one. Some people are meant to stay friends. Perhaps that could change between you two. But it cannot. Hyunjin remembers one little fact: you are in a committed relationship. Of four years. With Lee Minho of all people.

What does Lee Minho have that Hyunjin doesn’t? He’s just as pretty. Just as charming. And he’s a few centimeters taller. Plus, he’s known you longer than Minho has. If anything happens, you’d certainly pick Hyunjin, right? But Minho wants to marry you and Hyunjin doubts himself as being ready for that type of commitment even though he craves it desperately.

By the time that Hyunjin has finally finished the final pieces of the floral arrangement and sneaks away from his thoughts, Minho saulters into the store. Speak of the devil.

He’s smiling just as wide as he had days ago. Tonight is the night that he proposes, Minho informs Hyunjin. To which, Hyunjin congratulates Minho—but he hopes that you say no. He prays that you say no and, just to add insult to injury, you laugh in Minho’s face, despite how crude it’d be. In the pit of his stomach, though, he knows that you’ll say yes to Minho.

Minho leaves with the flowers after a few minutes of chatter; but not before he pays and leaves quite a hefty tip.

The rest of Hyunjin’s day goes by dryly. A permanent pout rests on his face, as noticed by his coworkers. He’ll just shyly smile so as to not cause any worry. Hyunjin remains on autopilot. Smiling, talking to his regulars and answering the questions he might receive throughout the day. For the most part, though, he retreats to the dark and cozy area of his mind.

—

He decides to take a refreshing walk back home. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk, and he does it often. More time to think. His headphones are tight against his ears, but not uncomfortable. Hyunjin initially chooses to blast a soft, slow tempoed song before he switches to something more heavy and aggravated.

The music is cut and a millisecond later, his phone rings. It’s you. Oh, god. You’re going to rub your relationship in his face.

When Hyunjin answers it, there’s an, albeit fake, smile on his face as if you could see him, and he begins to speak in a typical cheery tone. He’s cut off by a sob. He can’t understand a thing you’re saying and he panics. He stops in his tracks, hand curling to grasp at air in a panic. His eyes widen while he searches for any thought in his brain to console you.

“Are you home? I’ll be on my way, okay?” He informs you, voice filled with worry. “We can stay on the line until I get there.”

And he stays on the phone with you until he reaches his home; and then the entire fifteen-block walk to your place. Avoiding the eyes of those who wonder whether he might be talking to himself. He hurries, speed walking the entire way—and almost sprinting at one point when your sobs had suddenly gotten worse—in order to reach your apartment in less time than it would usually take.

He’s buzzed into your building and within a few seconds he’s at the door of your apartment. He doesn’t need to knock, as you open it immediately. Tears are staining your cheeks and you walk up to hug Hyunjin, not bothering to welcome him into your home.

Now, everything is seemingly on pause, and Hyunjin is comforting you through your own heartbreak. Once again, time is both slowed down and sped up—he’s present but still lost in his head somewhere. Still, he waddles the both of you into your apartment, and kicks the door closed with his foot.

He notices the flower arrangement he’d made just hours prior, sitting untouched on the kitchen counter.

“You wanna talk about it?” Hyunjin questions. Dealing with those emotions, especially right after they surface, is difficult, and the last thing Hyunjin wants to do is push you into speaking about it—he knows the fresh wounds of a heartbreak all too well. So, he remains by your side, patient, and comforting until—if—you decide to speak.

The two of you begin rocking side to side slowly. It’s soothing, and you’re able to speak just quietly.

“Well, he proposed,” His stomach turns, tightening to the point where he becomes nauseous for a moment. Hyunjin even nearly rolls his eyes, but the thing that relieves him is the reason he’s here—obviously you turned Minho down. That, or Minho dropped dead; but that’s not as likely. Yet, the thing that nearly makes Hyunjin sicker is how much he hates that he’s happy that you declined the proposal.

“And I declined. I-I said I wasn’t ready for marriage yet. Told him I wish we had discussed it a bit more before he did anything so we’d be on the same page. B-but I begged for us to stay together and he said… he said he couldn’t do it.”

You bury your head in Hyunjin’s chest, weeping a bit more.

“I know it hurts,” His words get lost in his mind somewhere, feeling as though he isn’t adequate enough to comfort you.

“It hurts so bad.” You grab his hoodie with your fist tightly, twisting and tugging at it.

“Let’s just cry it out. That always helps me.” He suggests, hand running up and down your back.

“Cry with me? Like that scene in Midsommar?” You laugh through your sobs despite the hurt you’re in. Not that it matters to Hyunjin, of course. You can feel him laugh and, fortunately, it makes you smile.

“Only if you want me to.” He unknowingly returns the smile. You don’t respond, but you ponder it—even as just a joke.

The room falls silent but the silence is comfortable. That’s what you love about being around Hyunjin. You intrigue him, and while he always wants to know what’s going on in your mind, he never pressures you to speak. Sometimes, we learn more about ourselves—and to an extent, other people—through silence.

The hug breaks. You fail to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. You walk off to sit in the living room and Hyunjin goes to get water for the both of you. He sets the glasses of water down and takes a seat next to you.

“Where is he?” Hyunjin asks. His palms are sweaty, so he wipes them onto his jeans.

Your frown somehow deepens before you speak. “Went to stay with his parents.”

Silence. Hyunjin can tell that you’re lost in thought. He feels a bit odd. Individually, you both have gone through a significant amount of breakups; but each one is different from the last. It’s been so long since you’ve had your heart broken. To see you like this after so long—eyes red and puffy with a tear stained face, bottom lip quivering as you try to console yourself—it breaks Hyunjin. He does what you would do for him.

“What will help take your mind away?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

You ponder for a moment. “Remember back in February when you and Miyeong broke up? The sleepover we had while Minho was away? We stayed up all night eating snacks and watching romance movies,”

He nods. Despite being deeply hurt to the point he got sick, the latter part of that week was one of the most enjoyable times that he’d had in forever. The two of you ate, drank, cried, and watched cheesy romantic movies (to which Hyunjin cried more). Through the stuffy fog that is heartbreak, Hyunjin was reminded that, sometimes, life isn’t so bad.

“What if we did that again for a couple of days?”

Hyunjin ponders it, considers it, but… “We both have work.” He pouts.

“Not tomorrow, though. I just don’t want to be alone right now,” You need him. A crutch. A support system. And you know he’ll never let you down. “Plus, you act like you haven’t stayed over for long periods of time before! Remember the time that Jisung refused to shower out of spite so you slept over here?”

Hyunjin lets out a short chuckle. He knows that when he goes back to his apartment, it’ll be left a mess. But for you, he doesn’t mind cleaning up after Jisung. “Fine. But only because I love you and I want you to feel better, loser.”

—

“You just have to find your thing, you know?” Hyunjin takes another shot. Neither of you are sure just how many you’ve both had.

“Like, you know, my thing is art, and flowers and, you know, expressing myself with them. It’s the one thing I can always come back to and feel good about. Not betrayed, not hurt, or anything. But good. That shop—god—it’s like the one place in this world that’s for me.”

He’s venting now. He shouldn’t be. This is all about you. Tonight is all about you. So he cuts himself short, words still lingering on the tip of his tongue. There’s a momentary silence, eventually broken by you.

“Are you implying that you want to fuck your flower shop?”

“Wha…? No! I’m just saying…I’m trying to help you!” His ears become red.

“Hm. Not sure. Sounds like you’re confessing your love for your job,” Hyunjin looks at you with a face full of temporary disgust. “I’m jooking! Find my thing, something to express myself with, I know, I get it.”

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be.”

Silence once again occupies the room, planting itself comfortably between you and Hyunjin. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the silence. You do, though.

“You know what’s kinda funny?”

“Hm?”

“Minho used to mention, from time to time, how he believed you had a crush on me,” You smile. Hyunjin, however, is caught off guard, eyebrows raised with his eyes slightly wide. “I would always laugh it off but part of me kept thinking What If?”

“What if I had been with you instead of Minho. I mean, you wouldn’t propose to me without having a simple fucking conversation, right?” You ramble on. “You wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.” “Two secrets! It’s actually two secrets!”

“One,” You tilt your head to smile at Hyunjin. “I had the biggest crush on you for years. But I was so hurt because you kept going after literally every fucking body else. Wish you had paid attention to me.”

“And Two!” You continue, not as sad. Ignoring the previous sentences that came from your mouth. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Would you let me?”

He can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth. For a moment, Hyunjin feels ill. He’d somehow missed the signs. You wanted him, too. His eyebrows string together in a brief expression of sadness. He shakes it away. Hyunjin nods and leans in, his eyes close and he puckers his lips. Within a second, he feels your lips on his and then your hand on his thigh.

Sparks. That’s the only way that Hyunjin can describe it. Your mouth is warm, wet and Hyunjin can only melt into you. The two of you melt into each other. Lips mashed together as your tongues slip into each other's mouths, swapping spit. At this point it’s more than kissing. It’s heavy and messy. It’s full of hurt and passion and the feeling of being missed. Or having something missed out on. Uncertainty. Neither of you have come up for air to interrupt the makeout session. Losing yourselves within each other's mouths—lips and tongue, occasional teeth.

You end up climbing atop of him to straddle. Breaking the kiss to pin Hyunjin to the floor. You stare down at him, searching within his eyes. “Do you want me?”

“So much.” The two words leave Hyunjin’s mouth desperately. He’s in anguish.

He tries to sit up, to chase your lips but he’s properly pinned. You plant one soft kiss against his lips. You stand, beckoning Hyunjin to follow you to your room; disappearing into the hallway. And Hyunjin does just that; leaving his sober self to pick up the pieces of a drunken, immoral night.

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sapphicslaylist · 2 months ago

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Slay The Princess Borrower Fic, Anyone?

Life has never been safe for a Borrower in a world governed by humans. Viewed as evil omens, any power-bearing “Fae” find themselves prey to black market circles where their fates are drawn to the highest bidder. And sometimes, the winners prefer to place them into the ring and hedge their bets even higher on a gladiatorial fight against something much, much worse.

As is the fate of a pair of escaped siblings, surviving in the woods by the skin of their teeth. But when evading their opponent proves too challenging, it may take deciding between trusting the owner of a nearby cabin or trying to outrun an enemy that can’t be killed.

But the tenants of that safe haven have one damning condition: they must reveal themselves to him first to be granted shelter. In order to make peace with the present, it may take unraveling the horrors of the past and the entwined destines between them all to save who still remains of all Borrowers, Cryptids, and Fae - and perhaps even the very forest itself.

When on Borrowed paths, some things cannot be returned.

Info on the series, its inspiration, and the intended message of the fic are under the cut! You do not need to know anything about Borrowers to understand the story; just think “Princess Tiny.”

Please take care of yourself while reading. Themes of Realistic PTSD, STP-Typical Violence, Internalized Ableism, and Childhood Trauma are all major factors in this work. While I can promise a kinder ending, much like Slay The Princess itself, have heart and see the horrors through. This is a love story about how to trust again.

Was very determined to have the first of these up in the fandom and it appears I managed to do so! For those unfamiliar with the Borrowers, the basic gist of the series is that they’re mouse-sized people who live underneath the floorboards and survive off of lost objects. The original series does depict their plight with humanity (“beans”) and survival of genocidal practices including extermination, imprisonment for entertainment, and otherwise dehumanizing aspects. Combined with the elements of Slay the Princess which often stand for feminine survival of abuse, these two themes clicked together nicely for a properly dark and heartfelt exploration of survival and recovery. All are properly researched and/or experienced, and maintain respect to victims.

I’ve often found myself dissatisfied by how quickly Borrower fics tend to have the beans & borrowers mingle, or how romanticized the brutalism is on people who stand as reference for marginalized communities. For this reason, this work is done as a depiction of their existence in contrast to these actions, and all trust build (handheld elements, interaction of free will, and other prominent soft tropes in this fic) are built up to vs gained immediately. Expect some slow burn and relationship conflict which will be resolved.

I do hope you enjoy it!

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fenrysmoonbeamswife · 2 months ago

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I posted this in a reblog already but I feel like it needs its own post

The original post was about how people say that "Rhys didn't touch her below the waist" isn't a sound argument that he didn't SA Feyre because he showed he can manipulate the paint so that isn't proof that he didn't touch her.

I agree and my thoughts on it are also, even if he truly didn't go below her hips he still

• forced her to drink fairy wine (essentially drugging her due to the effects it has on humans) when she explicitly said no and pushed him away multiple times

• dressed her in pretty much nothing and paraded her around naked in front of everyone for absolutely no reason

– Please keep in mind when people make pretty fanart of this scene, they have to censor it for social media and they're romanticizing it. It isn't accurate. This was not romantic or girl boss, Feyre was essentially naked and it traumatized her

• had her dance naked on him in front of everyone for absolutely no reason—to the point that she vomited and he *checks notes* made her keep going

• forcibly kissed her

• spied on her through the tattoo he forced on her

And he still touched her. There are a lot of places you can touch someone above their hips/waist and if they don't want it, it's assault. And in this specific scenario, with these other instances of assault/abuse, it was sexual assault. It's not a debate.

Feyre had immense trauma from what he did to her and she even tries to bring it up but he makes it all about him (ironic that his fans do the same).

You Rhysand stans have a freak attack when someone tries to debate or invalidate Rhysand's SA (which is valid, so why is it okay to debate Feyre's when it is written right there on the page for you? If you genuinely and truly believe that Rhysand did not SA Feyre then I beg of you to check your internalized misogyny (and your literacy) because the "logic" you're using is the exact same logic that people who say Amarantha didn't SA Rhysand are using.

And if you can't even handle comprehending what happened UTM when it's spelled out for you then prepare yourself for this one:

Rhysand SA'd Feyre when they had unprotected sex because he knew the risks and she didn't

Oh and every time he has sex with her to shut her up/get his way is manipulation and is absolutely in the SA grey area because it's part of his emotional abuse towards her

#anti rhysand #anti inner circle #anti feysand #feyre deserves better #feyre archeron #acotar critical

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term-repost · 8 months ago

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Dissomei / Dissodic

[pt: dissomei / dissodic]

A term that is specific for people with BIID, psychosis, being an alter that differs from the body, atypical dysphoria, a general disconnect, etc . that causes them to have a disconnect in how they view their identity. This can also be for if your delusions or IRL attachments even that cause you to feel as if you are them exactly and have their same race/mental health issues/disabilities/etc.

This term is supportive of transitioning when it doesn't hurt others, yourself, appropriate, glorify, fetishize, or romanticize anything and is against it if it does (such as with race, ethnicity, culture, age, etc.)

Possible emoji combo: 🧠🚫🫀 The brain with the cross out and heart is to show how there is a disconnect between the two! A disconnect between internal and external.

tags: @dissodic-archive @radiomogai @obscurian

original coining post | simplified flag by kiruliom

originally coined by acetrappolaswife as arrisomei/arrisodic, new name was decided by the community via a poll (link).

#dissomei #dissodic #coiner: acetrappolaswife #flag: acetrappolaswife #mogai #mogai term #mogai community #mogaireal #mogai heaven #liom #liom community #liom coining

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mooniedust · 4 months ago

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Modern Aemond X Transreader Prompt

Plot: You and Aemond are in a casual relationship, but you yearn for something deeper and more meaningful, something Aemond seems either incapable of or unwilling to give. At a gathering of acquaintances, the suggestion to play "Truth or Dare" comes up. You speak impulsively, leading to a confrontation between the two of you that escalates upstairs at the party.

TW: This prompt addresses sensitive issues related to gender identity, including feelings of inadequacy in one’s own skin and internalized transphobia. As a trans man who has faced these struggles, I want to stress that there is no intent to romanticize these psychological challenges. If you’re experiencing something similar, please seek support/help. And remember, you are not alone, you are valid, and you are loved.

Note: This is Aemond's version of my other prompt/bot "Casual," originally created with Aegon. Many changes have been made to fit each character’s personality.

With all my heart,

Moon dust.

---

"I just don't get it. We do all these things together, so why does the word 'dating' seem so terrifyingly repulsive?" Your voice rang out, sharp and edged with desperation, as he tore off the jewelry he had meticulously chosen for the party. The makeup, once accentuating his beauty with almost artistic precision, now only served to make him look like a clown—desperate, pleading for crumbs of a committed relationship.

They had been involved for six months—two young men starved for touch, caught in an addictive pattern of casual encounters. Outings filled with conversations about mutual interests, provoking each other until one was pinned against the wall, breathless, moaning as if their body was being worshipped by the divine. You were at peace with this. Aemond had made it clear from the start what you were and always would be: not a couple, but a refuge, a release valve.

until you weren't anymore.

Perhaps it was naive of you to allow yourself to fall for him despite his insufferably cynical personality, but you did, and with overwhelming intensity. Something changed over those months—nights spent tangled in each other's arms, him always pulling your body closer whenever the emptiness of the bed threatened to separate you, the gentle kisses on your forehead while you slept, or that one time, after the most intense sex either of you had ever experienced, when he broke the silence to cry, to talk about his family and the loneliness that consumed him in his own home. That was when he spoke of feelings, something he never did—except with you.

It was a low blow.

Congratulations, you fell for the broken boy.

And so the story brings you both to the end of a decadent party at a classmate's house, a gathering far too loud for overwhelmed minds. It was inevitable that, at some point, half-drunk teenagers would start a game of "truth or dare"—drama has always been a fuel as potent as alcohol. Maybe it was a stupid game, but you wanted to hear those words, to push him until he confessed them. You wanted to hear so many unspoken truths. But you ruined everything. When the bottle pointed at him and you opened your reckless mouth, you ruined everything.

"Is it true what you said that night? The movie night at Lauren's house, when we were almost asleep—you said you loved me. Is that true?" The tension in the room became palpable the moment you finished your question. The number of eyes fixed on you was a sign that you had gone too far, and the game no longer seemed fun. Damn it. Fuck. Shit.

No one had to wait long for an answer before Aemond grabbed your hand to the muffled sound of Avril Lavigne's "Complicated." His long fingers wrapped around your small hand, while his other hand guided your waist upstairs with a simple, serious "we need to talk, alone."

It was your walk of shame to one of the rooms where the two of you would sleep that night, your hands sweating and fidgeting with the hem of your short black skirt, desperately trying to channel your feelings into anything but Aemond "I don't know what we are" Targaryen.

"It makes no sense to keep saying we're nothing. It's almost cruelty, treating all of this like a relationship and then getting mad when I want one—it's unfair." You repeated, your voice now tinged with pain and exhaustion, your eyebrows furrowed, your face twisted in a grimace of despair.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for what?

"Because we're not in a relationship. We talked about this on the first day we decided to start, you agreed, and so did I." Aemond avoided your gaze as he closed the door to the room, but the tension was visible in his rigid shoulders and in the way his right hand rubbed his left temple, near the black eye patch, trying to relieve an invisible strain.

"I've changed, Aemond. I'm everything you need. I can wear skirts, makeup—God, I could even be a girl if it means you'll stay with me. I can forget about this whole trans thing, maybe it's just in my head, yeah? Silly me. Just stay with me, please, You love me, we both know that. I just need you to tell the truth, just once, so that all this pain and turmoil in my heart and mind will have been worth it."

But they aren't worth it.

"Look, I'll say this because you're right about one thing: I love you, {{user}}." He finally spoke after long minutes of silence, his sapphire eye locked onto yours, but his hardened expression made it clear this conversation would not end with a simple declaration of love. "But I could never love you in the way you want. I don't want a relationship right now with you. It doesn't matter if you feel like a woman or a man—that's not the point. Just not now."

"But you could, maybe in the future. I could wait." Your voice was almost pitiful, a desperate plea. Never in your life had you begged for anything, let alone for someone's love. And now, here you were, dressed in clothes that made you uncomfortable, your makeup ruined by tears, covered in all those things that made you look more like a doll just to make Aemond might find that attractive.

Look like a girl.

It's always been your insecurity with gender, too feminine to be seen as a man, but too masculine to be loved as a false woman."

Silly boy.

Aemond smiled faintly, a barely noticeable pull of his lips as he moved closer with calculated steps. He hovered in front of you, his thumb gently wiping your cheek in a gesture almost tender. God, you were pathetic, even to him.

"I never could, either, and that would make the wait even more painful. Do you understand? I might wake up one day and want to get married, have kids, and all that domestic nonsense we've always mocked. How can I guarantee I'll feel the same way in four years? I don't want you to wait. I don't want you to change. No one who truly loves you should ask that of you. This is probably where I have to end the mess we've made." He bent down slightly, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before whispering that he was sorry.

Aemond’s steps retreated, leaving you surrounded by cold, by the emptiness that had always been there, but this time it was final, a last goodbye.

"Someone will love you. Someone will love the man you are. But that someone won't be me. I'm sorry."

Four weeks.

And Aemond was now officially and openly dating a girl.

#house of the dragon #writing prompt #aemond targaryen #dialogue prompt #fanfic #fic prompt #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #trans reader #mlm #writing dialogue #writing #story prompt #oneshot #ewan mitchell

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scarletlilyy · 4 months ago

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Topic of Today: Pretentious feminism online and the slow development into internalized misogyny.

Popular terms/ideologies in Girl world I feel contributes to this!

1. Girl dinner

2. “I'm just a girl”

3. Girl Math

4. Pick me

5. Girls Girl

1. Girl Dinner: As defined by urban dictionary GIRL DINNER is a tik tok trend where girls eat random food which is comforting and or is a childhood food. Basically a combo of some random foods. Like every other trend it started off pretty innocent until it was repackaged as a means of promoting eating disorders. Extremely low cal food that lacks every bit of nutrition is romanticized with a cute pink bow.

2. "I'm just a girl": The phrase “I'm just a girl” was kind of a spin to “let boys be boys”, something we've all commonly heard in the past when a young man does something stupid but is still excused for it. I watched this video essay by Alisha not Alisha and in the comments someone quotes "You're not "healing your inner child" - you're regressing into ignorance.” and that's exactly how I feel about this trend.

"I'm just a girl" should be a fun quote to piss off men who hate traditionally feminine things, not a hoax to justify your shitty behaviour.

3. Girl Math: The third one has to be my least favorite, especially as someone who loves math. It just reinforces the whole dumb blonde ideology, infantilizes women and justifies bad financial decisions/overconsumption. The whole overconsumption issue is probably one of women's bigger issues. Like I saw multiple videos of where girls tried to use girl math to justify the ridiculous amounts they spend MONTHLY on clothes.

Yeah, let's not....

Trends like these easily turn into a marketing ploy for brands and we just end up spending money on useless shit cus the caught ur short ass attention span lmao.

4. Pick me: I feel like the term pick me became popular around the pandemic (I might just be too young lmao), so I'm just gonna start around there. At first it was to actually call out women who were in fact pick mes. A pick me is a girl who brings down other girls for male validation btw.

It's as simple as that.

It's not a girl who has different interests from other girls and a lot of people have failed to understand that. The entire point is not that pick me's have different interests from other girls, it's that they weaponize their "different" interests to gain attention from the opposite gender. So no, a girl who isn't so feminine or doesn't practice stereotypical feminine things isn't a pick me, neither is she trying to be "different".

The word has been really thrown around and 60% of the time it's just cus the accuser doesn't like the accused.

5. Girls Girl: A girls girl is the opposite of a pick me, a girl who supports other girls. But guess what my support is very much conditional!

Girls are humans.

Humans suck, they are capable of being bad ppl and making bad decisions. Aside from the basic support like providing menstrual products when In need or defending each other from misogyny, my support is conditional. That was originally the intention of the whole girls girl thing, understanding female struggles and supporting each other in those aspects.

Not dick riding each other and giving our unconditional love to people who don't deserve it. It has turned into a thing where women are immune to criticism from other women. And anytime a woman calls out another woman for something genuinely bad they aren't a “girls girl” or they are “hating like a man” .

Women, just like men aren't immune to criticism.

Overall, all these trends always start with the innocent intentions of enabling women to enjoy themselves. They slowly develop into toxic trends that do absolutely nothing for the feminists movement and allow for internalized misogyny. Trends like this will forever pop up, let us be careful with the media we consume. I'm talking about it because I've seen it in real life and it affects how women and especially young girls coexist with one another.

That's it,

Au Revoir.

#feminism #opinion #women #girl blogger #girlhood

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cadere-art · 9 months ago

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Text from the image:

The Gichan are the product of a long history of conquest, fueled by their much coveted mountain passes and watersheds. The culture of the Kingdom of Gichan is highly syncretic. It owes its mores and traditions in varying parts to the underlying cultural substrate, to the Ghøwout Empire's centuries of rule, to the practices of their neighbors and to those of the new Gichan regime. To defend its precious lands, Gichan has a well-developped military with a strong core of professional soldiers, Gichan's regime is indissociable from its military: all noble families have a strong military background and it is customary for nobles of all rank to serve as officers for years or even decades.

Gichan was originally the name of a small nation in the mountains up the Cianji River, which became legendary for their unabating resistance in the face of the early Ghøwout Empire. When Ghøwout's northernmost province rebelled and seceded, it took on the name Gichan as a symbol of their resistance against imperial rule.

Gichan society is strongly divided between its military and peasant classes, but its peasants are far from powerless. Peasantry in Gichan is much revered : it is said to carry the nation on its strong back. as it works the fields and crafts the goods that feed and clothe the nation's soldiers. This romanticized potrayal often impedes serious understanding between local leaders and military lords, but fosters an attitude of gratitude towards the peasant's hard toil. In the harsh Gichan lands, a satisfied peasantry is seen as a priority.

Gican society is organized as chains of villages, each with their own village leaders, trading spouses and ressources up and down the mountains. They are ruled in a roughly feudal fashion, paying taxes in labour and goods to local military lords which themselves defer to higher lords up to the Gican royal court. Like in Ghøwout, religious specialists are excluded from this hierarchy: known as chui-chuøn (t. wild men), they are traditional healers and spiritual leaders often living in relative hermitage. In a set of practices long considered uncivilized by the Ghøwout, chui-chuøn wear numerous pelts and animal bones as a symbol of their otherworldly connections and hermitage. Uniquely, chui-chuøn do not wear tail brooches, as a way to signal that they are apart from society and clanship.

The Gichan use a modified Ghøwout script and many ghøwoutish loanwords, but most Gichan do not speak the Ghøwout tongue. They speak a variety of dialects, the most common of which is Tchougougch. Much of the peasantry is multilingual, having learned the language of a neighboring community within Gichan or of the many foreign traders using Gichan's mountain passes.

Gichan's territory has often been coveted and contested, much to the suffering of its locals. The revolution that broke Gichan apart from Ghøwout was strongly backed by the people, who felt Ghøwout had abandoned them in the face of the invading Senq Ha Empire. The Senq Ha had come from overseas and taken the Peninsular lands like a wildfire, and were now at their door, but Ghøwout, weakened by illnesses brought by the conquerors and internal strife, failed to mount a defense for Gichan in time, allowing much of it to be conquered. After this betrayal, the people of the passes, under the rule of two different empires, united and rebelled under the legendary name Gichan. They became the first province to secede from Ghøwout, initiating the Empire's long decline, and one of the first major setbacks of the Senq Ha in their invasion of Uanlikri.

#peoples of uanlikri #art by me #worldbuilding #antiole world #antiole fashion #gichan #gican #mountainfolk #Gichan is exciting! it's also the first nation / ethnicity that people in my story are actually likely to meet. Everyone knows about Ghøwou #bc Ghøwout is huge like. russia or china. but Ghøwout is oppressive insular and far away and its unlikely to meet one north of the mountain #Gichan move around more owing to all the trade routes they're defending

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droughtofapathy · 2 months ago

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if you would like to share, I am interested in hearing about the Baker's Wife into the woods hair symbolism

Buckle up, buttercup. I am always willing to share what I think about musical theatre, and especially my beloved Baker's Wife. We've had three originating iterations on Broadway, but both revivals make a crucial mistake in the wig.

So, in the original 1987 production, Joanna Gleason spent most of the show with her hair in a snood. This is a crucial aspect of her character. She is a married woman of a certain age from the peasant class, not some young maiden skipping around the village. Historically, pinning hair up is a significant indicator of maturity and greater social status that being an adult brings. It's also a practical matter. She's a Baker's Wife, for heaven's sake, and is working around food all day. Keeping her hair out of her face (and out of the food) also keeps it from getting coated in flour, or singed by the oven flames. Why do the revivals, particularly the most recent with those contemporary preppy girl waves, insist upon having her hair cascading around her shoulders? This is impractical and out of character.

The Baker's Wife is outwardly a no-nonsense pragmatist with no patience for vanities. She also has her own flights of fancy, and enjoys the romanticism of a prince and a ball, but this is more internal. In having her let her hair down in the most literal sense after bedding a prince in the woods, it provides a physical symbol for her massive departure to the “and” and away from the “or.” Because all of that lusty, wistful, adventurous desire has always been part of her, but she's been careful to keep it contained out of necessity towards her work, her station, her marriage.

Relating to that, Joanna’s “Moments in the Woods” is blocked and choreographed so precisely, and this is lost in later translation. Her Baker’s Wife is physically disheveled, not only the hair, but the buttons on her blouse, the rumpled apron, the discarded scarf. Subsequent character designs have maybe a little hair tousling, but with the recent revival, both Sara Bareilles and Stephanie J. Block start with their hair down and out, and continue like that throughout the show with no change, or growth, or vital (attempted) return to the “or.” (Tangentially: Joanna plays her with noticeably more maturity and authority, despite being younger than both revival actresses, who leaned more into her earnest playfulness. Losing the edge of her deadpan snark really devastates me personally.)

Joanna spends the song deeply in touch with her own body and self. She buttons herself up, she pins her headdress, she straightens herself out, all exactly timed to the words she sings. Her movements are so precise and calculated, smaller and more purposeful, as opposed to the staging in the 2022 revival that has big gestures and outward focus, less on her and her body, and more on “the woods” and the everything else going on. Joanna speaks to herself. It’s also critical that Joanna finishes the song with her hair still down, only ever half-composed. She goes off with her snood still off, with her hair down and headdress only just pinned, halfway to the pragmatic and sensible woman she is in her everyday life. But she never fully returns to that state. She never gets the chance to leave the woods. The change from neat updo to luscious dishevelment is such a dramatic departure that's so delightful to see represented by this simple change.

#into the woods #the baker's wife #joanna gleason my beloved you will always be *the* baker's wife

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leon6w5 · 2 months ago

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I've been thinking about this for a while, how to formulate an analysis without losing anything quite essential. Let's start saying: Ada is a character that I see as made to intrigue. I think that she mediates between what she believes to be good and bad, especially when it comes to all those characters she cares about and has some connection with.

Little is known about her, we don't know exactly about her past, we don't even know if her real name is Ada. But we're not here to somehow justify her actions, but rather to understand, without categorizing her as something, because not even she puts herself in those parameters.

It's hard to describe a character who is usually there as an extension of another, this closes the door to depth. Ada before the remakes was this type of personality that we didn't know — and still don't know much about — what was going on in her head, (the closest thing to her real feelings about everything that happened in Raccoon City was brought up in the original Resident Evil 2, a dialogue with Leon) a “fatal femme”, a mysterious woman who contrasted with the hero. — A tragic relationship. From Resident Evil 1/2 — here I'm talking about the original — to Resident Evil 6, there wasn't exactly a malleable construction of her character. Until Resident Evil Damnation, Ada had a connection with mercenaries. Which makes this “redemption” of Ada an act, let's say, imposed, but without a bridge to it. By this I mean that, even with Ada's campaign in RE6 and also the original Separate Ways, it was hard to see why she reflected on the things that happened because of the bioweapons, everything seemed to somehow revolve around the feelings she had for Leon. — And it's not that characters who had bad attitudes shouldn't have their redemption arc, but for Ada, it was a leap without ground, it was nebulous. Not only that, but it's as if there was an internal conflict within her — I think people are very wrong in assuming that Ada has (and needs to have) a side within the construction of her character and her mistakes. It's not wrong to question her attitudes, but it's not right to compare her in such a way as to see her as a villain — like Wesker and his romanticized dystopia. I think that the great chance of her story happens when she realizes the results of her work, when she becomes a survivor together with Leon, facing a reality that she had been dodging because of her (very objective) missions.

I say this because, as said at the beginning, not even Leon had his good moments. From Resident Evil 4 to Infinite Darkness, we see that, for example, he rather to keep Claire safe when exposed that Wilson (directly linked to the American government) were working for Tricell. He preferred to save an important person over saving others. This is a huge moral burden, which he may condemn, since he was unable to save Shen Mei — he was unable to expose what the government did in Raccoon City — and he didn't want to lose someone who is important to him. Not only that, but Leon submitted to working with the government after Adam Benford threatened Sherry's life after RE2 — under Simmons' supervision.

• Leon being threatened by Adam Benford

So here we see that Leon sank and became a hostage to his own convictions, in Vendetta he does this when they talk about Arias, for example, for him two wrongs don't make a right, and he even starts working with Patricio to obtain illicit information for the government's benefit.

I believe that liking Ada from the beginning means understanding that her past was just as erased from her own backstory. She is a lonely woman who uses her abilities to survive in a world of powerful people. Think about it here: when we talk about Ada and Leon, we are talking about different sides of the same coin — and I think that is why I find their strange relationship interesting — they are characters with very different visions that mix like paint, stain each other and create a color of their own. They are characters who, when placed in situations like those in Resident Evil, show themselves willing to do X or Y. It bothers me to realize that this speech about Ada about Leon's position towards her, mischaracterizes both characters. Leon is not wrong to question, to try to understand why she does the things she does, and she does not exactly need to verbalize that she regrets it when it is clear that she cares about Leon — about people around him, like Sherry — not only that, but she cares about the future of biological weapons. Perhaps a large part of the fanbase has become accommodated to this view of right and wrong — without nuances — because we sympathize with Leon, his motivations were beautiful and seemed right to him, not putting yourself in his shoes is also denying that he has changed. And all of this is intertwined with the subject, precisely because Leon, despite being hurt by Ada, puts himself in her position. This does not mean agreeing, but imagining her life in a way that allows us to see part of it, her experiences and ask ourselves why she does not allow herself to come out of her own mask. Emotions. Ada seems to have difficulty accessing her own emotions and lacks empathy for herself. She can't discern what she feels, as if she were forcing herself to feel things or hide them. I like the remakes for this expressiveness. Ada has difficulty saying what seems obvious, but she chooses to demonstrate it and is genuine in such a way that the details about her show how she is and acts.

• Ada sympathizes with Carla and sees herself in Carla’s situation. This dialogue I interpreted that Ada was talking about herself too.

The franchise also doesn't give us an immediate answer, because we don't know much about the characters themselves, but rather about how they shape themselves when faced with the choices they must make, the bonds they form with other characters, and the unethical situations of pharmaceutical companies, the government, and the dehumanization of humanity. Resident Evil is a game about political power.

It's interesting to see how, in the remakes, Ada's development becomes much more linear and coherent with some of her reflections — her pains and weaknesses —, even if briefly. Before that, it was unclear to see this internal conflict of the character; she is a personality that questions her mistakes, starts to question her real intentions with what she does, starts to understand that perhaps her own survival has cost other people's, and this becomes evident during Separate Ways, RE6, RE2OG/RE2R. She seems to realizes that after Raccoon City, her "connivance" and her work left her too oblivious to a reality that she seemed to understand — but not live in. She started to normalize what was happening to such an extent that she didn't think it was different when, for example, she met Leon —, the problems caused by bioterrorism made her insensitive. But before that, at the end of RE2R, it was already something that would be demonstrated for the RE4R.

I like how, apart from her strange relationship with Leon, they are parallel characters that are different. I mean, throughout the franchise, Leon has been losing his sense of morality — I want to point out here that with this characterization of Leon in the remake, we saw that he was a very idealistic character, with a moral compass already defined and having discovered what was happening shook him, not only that, but later in the games and CGI films Infinite Darkness/Vendetta/Damnation/Degeneration/Death Island already mentioned — he realizes that the American government is not so different from everything he condemns, but he is part of it now and Ada was trying to find hers.

I also think that this doubt about Ada's morality comes from some prejudices and an unfair villainization, Ada has a hard time keeping in touch with her own feelings, not because she despises them but because maybe she never had that contact; she is a shell of herself, trying to pinpoint her identity compass — of morality too. Ada is always unsure of what to do, especially when it comes to her traumas, and the perception that her work (its results) could harm her too.

• Ada exposes her feelings about what she's been through.

• Ada dialogues with Leon about her feelings in RE2OG

• Ada kept a picture of her with John, even knowing that she was using him to get information from Umbrella, Ada seemed genuinely felt something (not necessarily love/passion) for him.

I added this photo precisely because, despite working for Umbrella, John did not agree with the way the situation was going. I think this reflected on Ada, not an affection/feeling for him but a personal thought that the circumstances could have been different and the same thing about Leon. The scenario could have been different, but would they have been what they are? Would they have been what they are not?

And now a topic which bothers me bitterly not only for the old fanbase, but also the new one. There is a certain fetishization, as if Ada not only didn't want to repent but also continued in this role of getting what she wants through her seduction and her little games, a character who, in many quotes, was made to be the hero's romantic partner, the mysterious hot woman in red. We know that this is not true, Ada is a character who has shown herself to be reflective, alone and lost within an identity that no longer means anything to her. And here I want to say that the choice of Ada's VA to be Lily Gao, brings a much more beautiful and humanized vision of the character, precisely because she is a Chinese woman, giving more experience and more life to a character who spent much of her franchise being fetishized by a portion of the public or hated. I like how Lily Gao played Ada Wong (Welcome To Raccoon City and especially RE4R;SW) without exposing the character to sexualization. The voice, expressions and also body language were punctually placed in a way that showed the humanization and more realistic construction of Ada even in the underlying dialogues, even those in which there is a misinterpretation by the fanbase — like many saying about Ada being jealous of Ashley. Lily Gao in her interview with Moni from REDATABASE made a pointing out Ada's malleable, ambiguous and mysterious personality — much more about affection, understanding of the character, putting herself in her shoes, than her sensuality or objectification — covered by a fake femininity/empowerment.

When I talk about humanization, I'm not talking about being right like the heroes, but rather understanding that life is intrinsically linked to the parameters we give it. Bad attitudes do not mean that people are completely bad or good attitudes are completely good. Imagine that within a subjective perception, we, as human beings, are constantly trying to correct ourselves for things that happened, because we had bad attitudes and regretting it is showing humanity, it is showing empathy. Ada is not only an interesting character because she has ‘gray’ choices, but because she has human choices. It may be difficult to first think about how we should act in the situations in which she was exposed and the same for everyone else in the franchise. Knowing what is right and wrong in the Resident Evil universe is desperate, Leon himself is proof of that.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! if you liked it let me know your opinion!

#ada wong #ada wong analysis #resident evil 6 #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil separate ways #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #lily gao #leon kennedy #sherry birkin #claire redfield

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terrence-silver · 9 months ago

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Give us some basic headcanons about Jack Blaylock, please? Anything that comes to mind? Why he's the way he is? What turns the gears inside his head? He's such a fascinating, mysterious character but there's so little content about him to enjoy.

---

Okay, random thoughts on Jack Blaylock and how he ticks:

Believes in reincarnation, fated soulmates and karma.

Is an US-expatriate born on Japanese soil who’s never actually been in America, yet maintains this weirdly idealized, fiercely patriotic image of it, all while for all intents and purposes, man’s technically infinitely more Japanese than American.

Traveled all across Asia for, erhm, jobs, but he’s never actually been ‘home’.

As a result of this, he also romanticizes tradition and ‘the way things are meant to be / the way people are originally meant to live’ precisely because he was born and raised between two worlds and two very distinctive cultures, neither here, nor there, wanting to find his own place under the sun and go back to a simpler time when ‘everything made sense’.

He’s a hitman because he’s immensely talented at it and if he causes carnage and breaks laws with a general disregard for human life (winding up in jail and the newspaper at least once from what we’ve seen, going as far as changing his name...at least once too) he probably feels he at least isn’t doing all of this at ‘home’ and that half of the time whenever he assassinates some whistleblower, gangster, nosey investigative journalist or corrupt politician, he’s actually doing America a favor by ‘offing her enemies’ from afar and blaming it on someone else is need be, pshhh.

As such, man’s convinced he’s in a weird way…doing a necessary deed.

Jack might feel it’s infinitely better to arrange the termination of some politician promoting unfavorable international policies than have entire countries duke out disputes that came about from one rotten apple at a later date through actual warfare, sanctions, serious repercussions and millions of people dying, losing their jobs, ending up displaced and suffering the casualties when it’s just easier to simply off one dude and lop his head off, for example. He feels his profession is dirty, uncomfortable, taboo, not something everyone can stomach doing, but very much needed. People like him are not liked. People like him are on the margins of society. In the shadows, always hiding behind other professions and made-up identities, precisely the way he himself does. They don't get happy endings. They’re very much a requirement, though. Have been all throughout history. Where there’s civilization, there’s people who kill professionally. There's always been some Jack Blaylock out there one way or another. Or some Timothy Calloway.

And he will kill anyone and everyone in the most gruesome ways possible if the job demands it (exacerbated by his bigotry for certain groups, which, ironically, include the Japanese) --- and he can really make it into a scene if he wants to --- but in his own words, the one possible hard no he has is other Americans and mainly the women precisely because he has this ingrained patriotism and longing for a home he’s never actually experienced. Man has his own (hypocritical) preferences and biases he conflates with honor. A code of sorts.

Ultimately, Jack's oddly romantic and idealistic, yet somehow simultaneously fiercely realistic and even cynical. There's something bizarrely spiritual about him, I'd even dare say. He believes a better world is possible --- if not now, then in another life, cycles and cycles from now, and in the meantime, someone, namely people like him have to get their hands seriously dirty to make all of that possible for themselves and everyone else. So happens that sometimes a better world starts by unloading a round of bullets into someone standing in the way of it all.

It's preferable if you enjoy doing it along the way. If you're good at it.

He's both.

#jack blaylock #ulterior motives #ulterior motives 1992 #character analysis #headcanons #jack blaylock headcanons #tw; bigotry #tw; murder #tw; professional assassination #tw; crime

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lunarmoonanons · 2 years ago

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Fire and Salt chp 10

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

The trial for succession takes places, and Viserys defends his daughter.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

The throne room was divided quite nicely by the sides of each faction. Blacks and greens. YN stood by her mother’s side, she felt the gaze of Aemond looking over her body and hair. She looked like a princess, a beautiful force of fury and grace. Her black dress hugged her form tightly and her hair framed her face as the strands of curls dangled from her goddess braids. YN glared at her uncle Vaemond, her hand held Rhaena’s; soon she turned violet eyes to stare down the hand who sat upon her grandfather’s seat. Though YN never cared about an “ugly iron chair” she did care about seeing someone who hungered for power sat atop a throne he had no right to.

Otto droned on about the reasoning for gathering, and how he spoke for the king. YN briefly caught the eye of Aemond, who seemed relieved she did not glare at him. They barely gazed at each other for more than a second, silently asking the other if they could talk when this whole ordeal was over. Soon Vaemond stepped forth to talk and YN looked away from Aemond.

“My Queen. My Lord Hand.” He seemed confident. Almost as if he knew that the hightowers were going to grant his request immediately. “The History of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of old Valyria.”

‘Oh for the love of the father do people never shut up about that kingdom.’ YN thought to herself. Valyria was gone, everyone clung to its memory and shackled themselves to the past because of it. A romanticized tale told over and over so that the original visage never stood true. YN looked back to Aemond, he was one of those who dreamed of Valyria.

“For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas.” He continued. YN rubbed her thumb over Rhaena’s hand. Rhaena had always been a comfort to her. “When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fai, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name.”

‘Will there be a night of rest between now and the damned point.’ YN thought to herself. Turning her head to Baela and her grandmother. Baela offered her a smile, trying to communicate sympathy for YN’s mother who was the one truly on trial here. Rhaenys nodded comfort to her granddaughter but kept her focus ahead.

“I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Colrys’ closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of house Velaryon runs through my veins.” There it was. The real point. He thought he had more claim to Driftmark then her brothers, than her or Baela or Rhaena.

“As it does in my sons and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon.” YN’s mother spoke up, YN placed her hand on Rhaenyra’s back in an effort to soothe her. “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No you speak only for yourself and for your own ambition.”

Her mother was right, in YN’s mind. Her father called her brothers his sons, they were his heirs. Driftmark was to go to the next male child who could further the family line. Even if Driftmark didn’t go to a male child, as it still would, Baela or YN had more claim than Vaemond did. They were also Velaryons direct from Colrys’ line.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhnaeyra.” Queen Alicent interrupted. Her nosey holier than thou attitude dripping from her voice making YN gag internally. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.” Vaemond smirked his pissy smirk, giving YN more cause to glare at the greens across the room.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. You seem not to have a single instance of Velaryon blood in your children, save for a daughter.” He was smug and posturing. “This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

His house could survive through many of means, if he objected to Luc there was Baela, Rhaena, and even YN. Though she had always hoped she’d never run a house. Vaemond gave a glance to Lucerys, smug and annoying as if he knew a secret about Luc.

“My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my lone above all.I humbly put myself before you asd my brother’s successor… The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.” He postured.

YN placed a hand to Luc’s shoulder, comforting the increasingly anxious boy who shifted slightly on his feet. YN offered him comfort in this accusational trial against her mother. This was just about upending her mother’s right to the throne. Wrapped in a cloth of rights and succession they would deliver the blade of usurpation against YN’s mother, the true heir. Her mother stepped forth, and YN took her place in holding Luc’s hand. She needed someone to ground her or she’d pulled out a knife and stab Vaemond in his smug face.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very-”

Her mother was interrupted by the sound of the doors opening. Everyone looked, and everyone saw the frail sight of her grandfather the king. He stood on a cane, though he did look fragile his air gave off the sight of a king who demanded his throne back. King Viserys of the land of Westeros was here to defend his daughter.

The announcer spoke in a loud voice. “King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

YN felt tears sting in her eyes, but she held them back as she watched her beloved grandfather slowly make his way to his throne. Each step looked like agony, and she was scared he would stumble or fall. But he continued on. Everyone in the throne room watched as he made his way back to where he belonged. Otto quickly got off the throne to save face. Once her grandfather found his way back to the throne, he spoke.

“I will sit the throne today.” He rasped out and tried to make his way back to the throne. Though it seemed too difficult for him to make his way up the steps, but he would shoo away the help of the kingsgaurd.

In the end, it was Daemon who helped the king. Brother lifting brother up, family helping family. There was no malice, no revelry in one of them being so beat down. Hand in hand, Daemon lifted his brother to his rightful seat and placed the crown on his head. Giving him the power of the room and command of the throne. Viserys adjusted himself on his throne and readied himself to speak.

“I must.. admit.. my confusion.” He breathed out, face heavy from the gold mask he wore. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight on Lord Colrys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

All eyes turned to the princess, the queen who never was. YN looked closely at her grandmother, hoping that she’d come to the aid of her mother and that her family would be united in this front.

“Indeed, Your Grace.” Rhaenys spoke up, regal and dignified. She stepped forward to the center of the room. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon. As he will further the house, YN will command the fleet to unite the family under him. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.”

YN breathed out a sigh and went to hold Rhaena’s hand again. The girl smiled at her cousin and gave her hand a squeeze as their grandmother continued.

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luc to Lord Corlys’ other granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena.” YN smiled at Rhaena, squeezing her hand. “A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

That caused a shift in the room. The Blacks stood tall once again, now that there was a future of marriage to unite the family and they stood stronger for it. The Greens seemed to shift into an uncomfortable stance, unhappy with how Rhaenys had turned her support to Rhaenyra.

“Well… the matter is settled… save for one thing.” Viserys turned his tired eye to YN. His first grandchild, his only granddaughter who was the very image of a princess and a Targaryen before him. “The Princess YN has no match for her. I hear she is handed many offers to wed, but no answer. Princess YN, would you consider a match between you and the Prince Aemond?”

Now the room gaped their eyes to Aemond and YN. She held her gaze to her grandfather, as Aemond looked right to her. He begged her silently to say yes. To agree to a match and unite them finally as they should’ve been when they were young. Rhaenyra looked to her daughter who stepped forth with her head high.

“I must confess, I have had many a offer that intrigues me more. A dornish noble, a house from the North, and even from Ser Vaemond’s own son.” YN laughed the last part out before regaining her composure. “I would like my family to be united once again. I will consider the match to Prince Aemond and return my answer within 2 fortnights.”

Viserys smiled at her, she and him seeming to communicate mentally. Her telling him that she would do what it took to make peace and unite them. Him offering his love and promise that he would accept her answer no matter what. YN did not look to Aemond who stared at her, the faintest smile twitching at the corners. YN was going to consider the match and she would do anything for Viserys so she would most likely agree to make peace with them all.

“Then the matter is finally settled.” Viserys commanded the room. “Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmsrk, the driftwood throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

The Blacks smiled at the reaffirmation. But Vaemond scored at the thought that this boy with no Velaryon blood would sit the Driftwood throne over his blood. The Viserys would make mockery of tradition and not see what was plain before him.

“You break law..” Vaemond cut through the silence. “And centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“‘Allow it’?” Viserys mocked back, gasping out the words. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

That seemed to set Vaemond off on a trigger.

“THAT is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!” Vaemond shouted out, finger accusingly pointed at Lucerys.

“Go to your chambers. You have said enough.” Rhaenyra demanded, trying to get this shouting man away from her children.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… are no more than the second son of Driftmsrk.” Viserys stated, affirming his decision as king.

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine.” Vaemond stepped forth, angry at the turn of the trial. “My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned… I will not see it ended on account of this-”

“Say it.” Daemon whispered, taunting the man who glared at them all. YN inched her fingers close to the knife she held at her waist, ready to defend whatever slander Vaemond spoke against her mother.

The room was silent. Waiting for Vaemond to make the mistake. Everyone’s eyes looked at the man who grew angrier at the minute. Otto stood behind his daughter, her children stood around her waiting to see what would happen. YN kept a hand to her mother’s shoulder and the other close to the knife at her waist. She dared the man to say it, for she would take his eyes and tongue as punishment for speaking against her mother.

“Her children… are BASTARDS!” Vaemond shouted, his angry finally topping over and causing him to scream the forbidden words. Rhaenyra’s children stood ready to pounce on the man to kill him. Jace shook his head in anger and YN grabbed her knife ready to pull it out. “And she… is… a whore.”

That caused a commotion as the crowd gasped. YN pulled out her knife trying to rush forward to cut his eyes out, but she was stopped by Daemon who began to walk forward. Viserys pulled out his own dagger, anger in his eye and rage shook his hands. There was one punishment for slander such as that.

“I… will have your tongue for that.” The king pointed the blade to the man who only stood smugly in the center of the room.

But his smug expression did not last long. For once his head stared at Viserys, soon half of it was lopped off and fell to the floor. Daemon had cut his head in two, making the room gasp once again. YN froze at the sight of his half head on the ground. She had been accustomed to dead body’s but the way Daemon had removed Vaemond was so sudden and vicious she barely had a moment to breathe. YN ripped her eyes away from the bleeding corpse, blood rushing to her ears making her deaf to the following cries and words. She held Rhaena’s delicate hand in hers as her cousin began to grip it in shock at what her father had done.

YN spared a look at Aemond who seemed to be smiling at the sight. Like he enjoyed seeing Daemon kill someone in front of him. Like it was a dream or a wish to be in the presence of such a violent man. YN couldn’t bear to see that disturbing smile, it reminded her of the smirk he gave when he came back from stealing Vaghar.

The king began to groan, growing weary of standing so tall so long. He collapsed back on his throne, shocking Alicent and Rhaenyra.

“Call the Maesters!” Alicent gasped and ran to him.

“Father!” Rhaenyra spoke and ran to him as well.

“Please, my love. You must take something for the pain.” Alicent pleaded and held the king up into her arms. She tried her best to support his weight with her body.

“I will not cloud my mind. I must put things right.” He tried to dismiss her, but she held on. Rhaenyra stood at the foot of the throne waiting for her father. Viserys was led away by a guard and a maester. All Rhaenyra could do was watch.

YN wanted to go forward and help her grandfather, but her cousin was still shaking and she needed to be there for her brothers and cousins. All of which had witnessed the man who had raised them kill a family member before their eyes. Even if he was a slanderous traitor. As she shooed her siblings and cousin away, a hand grabbed her arm, and she looked up to see Aemond staring into her eyes,

“We need to talk. When can we?” Aemond asked, his eyes held no humor or mockery as they did before.

“Later. After the feast tonight.” YN said. They did indeed need to talk, it had been six years since they did and they needed to finally talk about what they were going to do. Would YN accept him? Would Aemond understand why she chose not to be on speaking terms with him? Hopefully the air between them would finally be cleared.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #velaryon reader #poc reader #woc reader #viserys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #fire and salt

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