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riizegasm · 20 days

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Impure Intentions || L. CY (Anton)

❀ pairing: chaebol heir!anton x rival!reader, implied fem!reader

❀ genre: enemies to lovers (but not really), fluff, suggestive

❀ word count: ~6.7k

❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of dysfunctional families, one heated kiss scene

❀ summary: From the day you were born, all you ever heard was, “don’t fall in love with Anton Lee.” A better heir to a multimillion dollar conglomerate would follow their family’s advice. But you…not so much.

❀ a/n: sheesh, talk about writer’s block. This work has taken me so long and so much effort, but i'm very proud of how it turned out! It may have even helped me out of my slump. Also, please don’t judge me too hard. I know nothing about business and corporate families!!! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are strongly encouraged. Happy reading!

Your head aches. The lights in the banquet hall are too bright and the clink of gilded silverware is too loud. Polite chatter buzzes around you like a pesky fly evading a swatter. The air is suffocating, overly stuffy with high end perfumes and colognes clouding the space. This is torture; the Lee family banquets always are.

It would be better if you could enjoy the food or engage with the various guests like everyone else does, but this is enemy territory. Your family had made it abundantly clear that this was not an event for fun, but rather for scoping out the competition. Lectures about a corporate acquisition going south and details about poor contracting simply entered in one ear and left via the other. You didn’t care why you had to be there. The knowledge of your forced attendance did enough to damper your mood, especially once you were hit with all of the rules around your presence.

Sit still, look pretty, smile politely, eavesdrop on any corporate plans, and don’t talk to Anton Lee.

You never understood your family’s obsession with keeping you away from him, the prized son and heir of the Lee empire. Everyone made sure to fill your mind with negative opinions and baseless rumors about the young man, as if to deter you from even giving him a chance. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, however. You’ve never even seen the man, let alone had a conversation with him. Anton Lee was much more of a mythical being than he was a person, in your eyes. He was always whispered about, but never seen.

From what you gathered, he was around your age, tall, broad, and supposedly extremely handsome. He was known for his overly harsh demeanor, rumored to command a room with a simple word. His presence apparently spoke volumes, enough to speak to his blunt nature and bad intentions. It made sense, your parents would always say. After all, he is a Lee.

“Fix your face, honey,” your mother snaps with a forced smile. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles before you turn thirty if you keep scowling like that.”

It takes everything in you to fight an eye roll, biting back the string of expletives waiting on the tip of your tongue. “Sorry. I’m going to run to the powder room.”

You don’t bother to wait for her response before excusing yourself from the cocktail table, getting lost in the crowds of people as you head towards the bathroom. Away from your family, the air feels somewhat lighter, although it still reeks of entitlement. The throb in your head is insistent now, forcing you to escape to find relief.

You find yourself heading towards a set of grandiose double doors, hoping they will lead you anywhere but here. Luckily, your prayers are answered as you step through them onto a stone balcony. The crisp nighttime air does wonders to cool your heated skin, a slight breeze ruffling the loose fabric of your dress.

This is exactly what you needed, space and solace.

“Rough night?”

A soft voice makes you jump out of your skin, whipping your head around to find the source. Its owner leans up against the exterior wall, somewhat bathed in shadow. All you can make out is a glimmer of white teeth, reflecting the moonlight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the figure apologizes, taking a small step forward into the light.

You feel your breath stutter in your chest as you take in the man. The first thing you notice is his sheer beauty, lips enticingly full and nose broad. His beauty is complemented by his tall stature, the height difference between you two becoming increasingly apparent as he approaches. Like this, bathed in the moonlight, it’s impossible not to notice the broadness of his shoulders and how they taper into a small waist. He fills out his all black suit beautifully, the garments clearly tailored to his every curve.

“Are you alright?” The man asks, stopping only a few feet away.

The concern in his tone is just enough to snap you out of your reverie.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, needed some air.”

The man nods in understanding, leaning over to place his forearms against the balcony’s railing. You struggle not to eye the way his suit jacket stretches across an impossibly wide back. Instead, you mirror his stance, looking out at the beautiful gardens below, bathed in silvery moonlight. Just beyond the seemingly endless maze of hedges, you can make out what looks like a small lake, it’s surface rippling under the nighttime breeze.

“It can be stuffy in there,” the man says softly.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, shocked that such a mild tone could come from such an intimidating man. “Yeah, it really can be.”

The man lets out a small chuckle, no doubt amused by your clear annoyance. “So I take it you’re not in the business.”

“No, I’m–,” you pause for a moment, not sure how much of your identity you should reveal to the stranger. “I’m related.”

He chuckles again, this time turning to look at you. “Hm, I guess I could say the same for me, then.”

A round of applause sounds from somewhere inside, and you curse under your breath, knowing your family will kill you for your absence. The man next to you seems unphased, as if he’s used to the party going on without him.

“I think I should get back.”

The man flashes you a smile, its brightness almost blinding in the dark. “That’s okay. It was nice chatting with you…”

“Y/N. And you are?”

“Anton,” he whispers. “I hope I can see you again, Y/N.”

An icy chill travels up your spine, momentarily freezing you in place. But you force yourself to remain composed, plastering a smile on your face. You silently thank your years of etiquette training and the countless social events you have had to smile for. With a slight nod of your head, you disappear back through the double doors, instantly choking on the scent of Chanel No. 5.

. . .

It’s easy to believe that your first encounter with Anton Lee would be your last, especially as the weeks pass without a single sign of him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t start making regular appearances at events after attending just once. He has managed to spend twenty years staying out of the spotlight, and you can’t imagine that changing now.

But, for some reason, you can’t help but search for him in the crowd of every gala or at the tables of any grandiose banquet.

He would be easy to spot, with his overwhelming height and dazzling smile. Maybe his honey brown hair would be slicked back off his forehead this time, or maybe it would hang in front of his eyes to conceal his bright gaze. You’re sure that he would still talk in that overly soft tone of his, somehow managing to command a room without a change in volume.

Even his absence begins to feel like a presence in and of itself, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You tell yourself that it’s simple intrigue and nothing more. The first time you had ever laid eyes on your supposed family nemesis had been on a balcony bathed in the moonlight. Where had he been all these years?

More importantly, why had he disappeared again?

The question runs through your mind as you accept a flute of champagne from a waiter, eyes flitting around the charity dinner in hopes of spotting a specific someone. Somewhere near the front of the banquet hall, the Lee family is seated at a table with a few other wealthy families, but their oldest son is nowhere to be found.

You crane your neck to get a better look. Just to be sure, you tell yourself. But the contorting you force yourself to do has you leaning right back into a waiter, your elbow knocking into his empty tray. The sudden movement has your champagne flute slipping out of your grasp, icy bubbles splattering across your chest and down the front of your dress. You can practically feel the daggers that your mother is shooting you from across the table, always having scolded you about the embarrassment that comes along with being a klutz. Before she can part her lips to tell you off, you excuse yourself politely, dashing out to find a restroom to freshen up.

You let your heeled feet carry you through a maze of hallways, side stepping waiters and party guests as you move further and further away from the event space. It’s only when you travel down a flight of stairs that you find yourself a seemingly private restroom, briefly stepping inside to clean yourself up. No matter how much you dab at the stain in the center of your bust, the wine doesn’t seem to budge. You thank the heavens that it was champagne instead of a red, saving you some degree of embarrassment.

After a few minutes in the restroom, you find yourself wandering around, ending up in a much more secluded lounge space, equipped with a couple of couches surrounding a coffee table. You immediately collapse onto one, sighing as the ache in your feet finally lifts.

It’s only then that you feel your eyes begin to sting, a familiar rush of heat striking your face as a lump begins to form in your throat. The sticky sweet smell of champagne still clings to your body, your dress uncomfortable where the alcohol seeped into it. You’re sure that you look a mess, knowing that tear smudged makeup would be the last thing to complete your disheveled look.

“Another rough night?”

The soft rasp of a voice instantly has you perking up, breath caught in your throat as you take in the tall figure approaching you. His crisply pressed suit hugs his broad shoulders and cinches at an impossibly small waist. His lips are quirked upwards into a small smirk, clearly teasing. Something about it is enticing, setting off a stampede in your stomach.

“How could you tell?” You mumble, trying not to stare as Anton settles into a lounge chair across from you.

The man’s smirk just deepens. “Wild guess. What happened?”

“I spilled champagne on myself and now I look a mess.”

“You don’t,” Anton states, smirk dropping from his face. “You could never look bad.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “How would you even know that? You’ve only seen me twice.”

Anton chuckles, finally relaxing into the plush of his chair. His legs separate ever so slightly at the action, allowing you to admire his mile-long legs. It’s almost frustrating, how perfect he looks. You imagine that if anyone never looks bad, it’s him.

“I’ve seen you way more than twice, Y/N.”

The simple statement has you turning your eyes away from his figure, meeting his open gaze. He seems so casual, so unbothered, as if that one sentence hasn’t turned your world upside down.

“Wait, what?” You find yourself tripping over your words in the rush to get them out. “Wh-what do you mean you’ve seen me more than twice? I only met you the first time at that contracting dinner a few weeks ago.”

Anton chuckles again, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “Yeah, that was the first time we’ve met, but I’ve seen you so many times. You and your family have been at every major event since we were kids. How could I not see you?”

“But, I’ve never–,”

“I know,” Anton interrupts. “I like to stay outside or in whatever lounge areas I can find. These things always make me really anxious.”

Wow, you didn’t expect such an honest admission from a man of Anton’s status. If anything, his candor makes him much more attractive, as if he could get even more perfect.

“You know we’re supposed to hate each other?” He asks, a small smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Apparently you’re my rival in the field, and I’m supposed to hate everything you say and do.”

Unfortunately, you know the feeling, causing you to let out a small giggle. “Oh trust me, I know. Do you, though?”

“Hate you?”

You nod, fighting a smile as Anton pretends to think.

“Nah,” he eventually answers. “My grandfather taught me from a very young age that I should never harbor negative feelings for beautiful women.”

The implication has heat rushing to your face, forcing you to struggle to keep your composure. “Well, my family has always told me that attractive men always have impure intentions.”

Anton chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He takes a beat before standing, letting his eyes rake over your still seated figure as he begins to retreat down the hallway. It’s impossible to decipher where the intensity of his gaze stems from. He eyes you as if he were hungry, trapping you against the couch with his stare alone.

“Then let me show you just how impure my intentions are.”

The man is gone with little more than a wink and a smile, leaving you with warm cheeks and the scent of champagne clouding your nose.

. . .

You’re surprised to see Anton as soon as the next event, only three weeks later. It’s a simple charity ball for some rare disease research, but for some reason, Anton has decided not to hide in the shadows for this event. It’s interesting to watch how despite his supposed anxiety, he is clearly in his element. He greets everyone kindly, shooting various guests a charming smile as he is introduced to them. His father looks proud of him, a hand kept clapped over his shoulder the entire time.

You wonder if he’s comfortable like this, with a blur of people and faces constantly passing by him. However, you are instantly snapped out of your wondering when a manicured hand grips your shoulder. The feeling of your mothers lips close to your ear sends a shiver down your spine, a perpetually bad omen.

“Straighten up,” she scolds. “We’re going over to talk to the Lees. Their son is making a public appearance at an event like this for the first time. No funny business.”

You would laugh if not for the uncomfortable way her nails dig into your shoulder. It forces you to instantly fall in line behind your father, taking a deep breath as you get closer to the Lees. What is only a few seconds feels like hours until you finally stand face to face with your supposed rival.

“Yoon Sang, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” your father greets, shaking the hands of the head of the Lee family.

He even leans in to place a friendly kiss on Mrs. Lee’s cheek. You find yourself standing frozen in place as the parents exchange greetings, unable to do anything but stare at the man before you. He sports his signature charming smile, mouth full of perfectly white teeth on display. Not for the first time, you feel your face grow warm.

“We thought it was about time for our Y/N to meet Anton. After all, they will be competitors when they take over the respective businesses, right?”

Your father’s comment snaps you back to attention. However, you are immediately distracted by the feeling of Anton’s large hand engulfing yours, his palm both warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. You have to glance upwards to meet his eyes, but it’s impossible to miss the amused glint in his stare.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I have heard so much about you.”

You force a smile on your face. “The pleasure is all mine.”

It’s easy to tune out the conversation after that, letting the adults blabber on while you reminisce about the feeling of Anton’s hand in yours. The man seems to be similarly distracted, clearly eyeing your figure. The silence between you speaks volumes, and you hope your parents are too deaf to hear it.

“We would love to have Anton over at our headquarters sometime,” your mother suggests, her piercing voice rising above the noise of the ball. “I’m sure Y/N would be happy to show him around!”

You don’t even have time to process the full body panic that begins to overcome you before Anton’s family is readily agreeing.

“I agree that it would be great for them to know the ins and outs of the business,” Mr. Lee replies with an overly saccharine smile. “We would love to have Y/N over for lunch at the estate as well. Who knows? Maybe they’ll find themselves to be friends.”

Your dad chuckles, obviously disgusted by the thought. “You’re so right. The two might even do a merger some day!”

As the group erupts into phony laughter, you feel the beginnings of a migraine tingling behind your left eye. Something about the cacophony of laughs and the dull classical music is making you ache, your stomach starting to swim with nausea. You dare a glance upward, fighting the pain that blooms in your head with the motion.

Anton’s gaze is bright where it meets yours, a soft smile poised on his full lips. His cheeks are dusted with a slight blush, clearly flustered by the implications. There’s a slight fidget in his fingers, twirling expensive rings as a means of soothing himself.

He’s cute, you realize, not for the first time.

It’s only after a few more moments that the families say goodbye, the Lees promising to send a lunch invitation soon. Anton shoots you another smile before he follows behind his family, suddenly looking small despite his large stature. You can’t help but smile as you watch his departure, suddenly realizing that your migraine has disappeared.

. . .

The Lee estate is just as gorgeous as you expected it to be, with tall stone gates and artfully placed landscaping. It looks impossibly large from where you’re seated in the car, causing nerves to begin to creep up your spine. You pass off the butterflies that begin to flutter in your core as obvious intimidation that comes with being on the property of your family’s biggest rivals. It surely has nothing to do with an overly soft voice, broad shoulders, and kind eyes.

“Remember,” your mother had told you before sending you off. “This is business. Reveal nothing and absorb everything. And most importantly, remember that Anton Lee is not your friend.”

You take a step out onto the perfectly paved driveway, surprised to already see someone standing by the door. Anton seems to perk up when you lock eyes, shooting you a polite smile. His wave betrays his excitement, though. You imagine that if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging.

“Y/N, hey! I’m glad you actually came.”

“Please,” you shoot him a cheeky smile. “As if I could ever turn down an invitation from the Lee family.”

Anton lets out a slight groan. “Don’t remind me that this is ‘business.’”

“Well then what would you like for me to call it?”

Anton shrugs, turning to hold the front door open for you. It’s only when you pass through the threshold, Anton still standing behind you that he responds.

“A lunch date.” Before you have the chance to respond, Anton is shutting the door behind you both. “Come this way. Food’s on the patio.”

It takes a few turns down intricate hallways to get to a set of double doors that lead to the patio. As promised, there’s an assortment of sandwiches and salad laid out on a round table, two seats set across from each other. You would be impressed, if not for the even more stunning view that lay before you.

The patio looks out on sprawling gardens, tall bushes and blooming flowers swaying softly in the breeze. A little beyond the landscaping, a wooden dock leads out to a large pond, its greenish-blue water seemingly sparkling under the midday sun.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe out, unable to take your eyes off the sight before you.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? My parents have always had an affinity for water.”

You imagine that all of their properties have pools or lakes, much like this one. Meanwhile, your own family prefers the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle, never expanding beyond brutalist modern penthouses in the tallest apartment buildings in the city. It must be nice, you imagine, to have a space that feels like a home and not just another office.

Eventually, the two of you sit, settling into a comfortable silence as you distribute food amongst yourselves. It’s quite amusing to watch Anton as he eats, clearly possessing the hunger of a growing young man while forcing himself to take small bites and practice the etiquette of an heir. You wonder if you look the same, so obviously restrained while you want to let loose, if only for a bit.

Despite the fact that you haven’t seen another person since you set foot in the Lee estate, you know that people must be somewhere. There are always eyes on you.

“I’m surprised that your family was so adamant about having me over,” you begin, settling back in your chair. “I thought I was the enemy.”

Anton smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well you know what they say. Keep the enemy close and all that.”

“Is that what you want to do? Keep me close?”

You know you’re treading in dangerous waters. All it would take is one word about the obvious flirting to Anton’s parents for you to become your family’s disgrace. You can practically see the headline now: Conglomerate Heiress Gets Rejected By Rivals’ Son. Your family would disown you. And yet, as color begins to flood Anton’s cheeks, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Yeah,” he says, voice coming out even softer than usual. “I think that is what I want to do.”

You duck your head, clearing your throat in an attempt to settle the flutter in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

A sudden interest in lunch leaves both of you munching away in silence. It’s peaceful, despite blushing cheeks and racing heartbeats. It allows you to realize that being around Anton is unlike being around anyone else in your family’s circle. Here, there’s no pressure to be prim and proper, no pressure to listen out for secret ins and outs of business.

It’s odd to find comfort in the one person who is supposed to bring you anything but. And yet, with the warmth of the sun on your face and the pleasant fullness in your belly, you’ve never felt more at home.

“You know,” Anton starts once you have both cleared your plates. “I think we’re supposed to be talking about business.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Can I be honest?”

Anton nods slightly, honey brown hair shifting across his forehead.

“The business is the last thing I want to talk about.”

Anton smiles. “Trust me, I feel the same way.”

There’s a beat of silence, the two of you content to simply sit as the breeze ruffles the flowers that dot the landscape. When Anton speaks again, you watch his mouth, noting the way that his lips hold the same hue of the red tulips in the nearby flower bed.

“Can I show you something?”

The simple question has your gaze flickering back upwards, trying to ignore the way your heart races when his eyes meet yours.

“Sure,” you whisper, words instantly carried away by the wind.

Following behind Anton through the grass proves to be harder than you imagined, his long legs allowing him to move with a grace and speed that is difficult to match. He leads you in between a maze of flower beds, bringing you deeper into the garden until you’re surrounded by tall hedges on either side. From here, it’s impossible to see the house, so you just continue to follow behind Anton. You find yourself eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the way his shirt shifts across the muscles of his back as he walks. It’s hypnotizing, so much so that you don’t realize that you have arrived at your destination.

“This is my thinking spot,” Anton says with a little flutter of his arms, clearly trying to present the space to you.

The hedge maze has opened up to a small central pocket, not housing much except for a small fountain and a stone bench. Anton is quick to take a seat, motioning for you to occupy the space next to him. It’s a bit of a squeeze, putting you and Anton close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin on your own. You dig your nails into the stone of the bench, hoping that it will steel your nerves.

“I like to come out here when my parents get in my head about the business. It’s pretty peaceful.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, despite knowing that no one is within earshot. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

There’s an airiness to Anton’s voice that has you turning to face him. You take in a sharp inhale when you notice that his eyes are already on you, the close proximity leaving your faces mere inches away from each other. The overwhelming rush of blood in your ears forces you to turn away, taking a deep breath to calm your thundering heartbeat.

“You take all the girls here?” You aim for teasing, but the slight break in your voice makes it err more on the side of desperation.

Anton shakes his head earnestly. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here who isn’t my family.”

The admission feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Except there’s no pain, just a rush of warmth that climbs up your throat like ivy. Anton is clearly surprised as well, his own words deepening the pretty flush that has taken hold on his cheeks. His bottom lip is trapped by his teeth, its plushness oh so enticing in the afternoon sun.

“Y-you know,” you stutter out, swallowing thickly before continuing. “When you said you had impure intentions, I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t think I could joke about how bad I want you.”

It should feel like a corny line. It should feel like something he says to all the girls. After all, he’s Anton Lee. He could get anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat. So why does it feel so real when he says it to you? Why does it feel like those words are meant for you, and only you?

Anton’s gravity is pulling you closer, allowing you to lean further into his space. You’re close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your face, coming out in gentle puffs that reveal just how fast his heart is racing. He has released his bottom lip by now, leaving it glossy with saliva. It’s impossible not to anticipate the smooth glide of it against your own.

A sudden vibration snaps you both out of your bubble, the two of you popping apart as if you were repelling magnets. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the vibration is coming from your own phone, buzzing incessantly. You shoot Anton an apologetic look before stepping away to take the call.

“We need you back home,” your mother rushes from the other side of the line, not bothering to waste time greeting you. “Your father wants to hear about your business with the Lees before he heads to his strategy meeting in an hour.”

“But the Lee house is thirty minutes away!”

You can practically hear your mother’s eye roll over the phone. “Then you better get going.”

. . .

Business meeting, my house at 4pm?

The text comes as both a surprise and the most expected invitation in the world. In your flurry to leave his house the week before, you had made sure to leave the man with your number. In turn, he smiled wide, promising to invite you over for another “business meeting” soon.

Before you can inquire about how much business will actually be necessary to discuss, your phone buzzed again.

My parents just left for a business trip to Milan.

A flutter rushes through your stomach at the implications. It’s clear what that means, that the two of you will finally have a chance to act on your chemistry without the watchful eyes of competitive families. The two of you will finally get to exist as your own people, and not as rivals and heirs of major global conglomerates.

The thought alone has you spending extra time on your appearance as you get ready. You make sure your hair sits just right and that your lips are perfectly glossy before pulling on a swimsuit and heading over. You try your best to remain as still as possible during the entire ride there, knowing that nerves in combination with the late summer heat will be enough to set you aflame.

Your heart is slamming in your chest by the time you finally pull into Anton’s driveway. It’s accompanied by a soft flutter of affection when you spot Anton’s figure, waving at you from the doorway. The wide smile on his face alone is enough to melt you. But the relaxed fit of his muscle tee and the way his swim shorts sit low on his hips has your face flooding with heat.

He greets you with a tight hug when you cross the threshold into the house. You try not to swoon at the firm pressure of his arms around your torso, ignoring the heat of his bare skin on your own. Anton had never touched you before, not beyond a simple handshake exchanged in front of parents, always respectful to a fault. For the first time, you find yourself grateful for that fact, knowing that now that you’ve had a taste of his touch, you will forever be addicted.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Anton gushes. “My parents have been really getting on my nerves about business and competition lately.”

“So you decided to invite the competition over to chill?”

Anton smiles, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “No, I invited the competition over to swim!”

So that’s why he reminded you to wear a bathing suit mere minutes before you left for his house. It makes sense, from the minimal texts that the two of you exchanged. Anton was always excited about the balanced heat of late summer, citing it as the perfect time for a lakeside swim. You wouldn’t know, of course, never having the luxury of having a lake in your backyard.

“What about your staff?”

“I let everyone have the afternoon off,” Anton responds proudly before letting his smile sink into something softer, more private. “I just wanted us to have some time alone.”

The simple admission rings out loudly in the otherwise quiet house. It’s clear how badly Anton wants this, how bad he wants your company despite the taboo that comes with it. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself wanting it just as bad, if not more. You’ve never craved anyone’s presence the way you have craved Anton’s, despite him being the one person in the world that you supposedly need to keep your distance from.

A small nod on your end is enough for Anton’s smile to grow once again, pearly whites on full display as his eyes wrinkle at the corners. The sight alone has your heart beating a little harder in your chest, the minor flutter in your abdomen growing into a full stampede of emotions. The feeling only intensifies as Anton engulfs your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he leads you out into the backyard.

The late afternoon sun sparkles against the water, illuminating everything in a blue-yellow glow. It’s the most captivating sight for miles, you’re sure, until Anton begins to take his shirt off. The way his muscles shift under his unblemished skin rivals the beautiful surface of the lake, sparkling in its own way. His shoulder blades dance across his back enticingly as he leans down to remove his socks and shoes.

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder before cannonballing right into the water.

It takes only a few seconds for the man to reemerge, slicking his honey brown hair off of his forehead. His biceps bulge with the movement before waving you into the water. It’s as clear of a signal as any, but you can’t help but hesitate, suddenly shy at the thought of stripping down to your bikini in the presence of such a man. But the delicate reflection of sunlight in his eyes and the easy smile on his face is enough to draw you in.

Before you know it, you’re discarding your clothes, taking a running head start to join Anton in the water.

Your skin is submerged in an icy chill, the water surprisingly cool for so late in the day. But soon the warmth of another body is nearing, making the cold that much more bearable. You resurface with a giggle, giddy from the feeling of swimming so long. Instantly, Anton is joining in, clearly happy seeing you filled with such glee.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” You exclaim, shrieking when Anton splashes a bit of water your way.

“It’ll get better,” Anton grins. “You just gotta keep swimming.”

It’s easy to do as told, letting your body relax as you continue to wade in the cool water. Eventually you let yourself fall into your back, feeling the contrast between the warm sun on your face and the cool water surrounding your body. It’s serene, allowing you to let your worries quite literally float away. However, the feeling of a chilled hand grazing your hip is enough to snap you out of your relaxation, scrambling to right yourself in panic.

“Sorry!” Anton chuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just getting bored without you.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, finding that the pace of your heart is beginning to quicken for an entirely different reason.

Anton looks especially beautiful like this, with his damp hair splayed messily across his head and drops of water dripping down his face. The sun has just begun to set, painting Anton’s skin with a beautiful golden hue. His eyes glisten just like the water, sunlight sparkling as it dances across the reflective surfaces. Like this, Anton seems so bright, so luminous, that hating him seems impossible.

“I’m really glad you came today,” Anton says, his voice dropping to that soft shy tone he always uses in the presence of others. “I’m glad to have someone who gets what it's like.”

You can’t resist the smile that begins to tug on the corners of your mouth. “You’re not just saying this to get my family’s business secrets?”

Anton huffs out a laugh. “No. I’m saying this because I really like you. I like spending time with you, even though I’m supposed to hate it.”

With every word, you find yourself drifting closer to the man, his hand remaining steady on your hip as you tread lightly. Despite the obvious effort to keep your head above water, you feel like you’re drowning. But the slick feeling of Anton’s skin against yours reminds you that you won’t drown. Anton won’t let you.

“I like you, too.”

The simple admission has Anton’s face flushing, the pretty rose color glistening orange in the light. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. You hate to dull his beauty in this moment, but you have to.

“But what about our families? It’s not like the two of us can ever be anything.”

Anton sighs, his face dropping with realization. “I know, but…is it crazy to say that I don’t care?”

The hand on your hip tightens, pulling you even closer into Anton’s space. It’s close enough that the two of you end up bumping knees every so often, constantly moving to keep yourselves afloat. Here, in his space, you can see the way that his lashes cast subtle shadows on his cheeks. It’s easy to count the few moles that pepper his face and neck, sitting stark upon unblemished skin.

When his eyes meet yours, it becomes clear what you wish to do. No, what you need to do.

“Anton,” you whisper. “What did you mean when you said you had impure intentions?”

The man moves to open his mouth, but before he can get the first syllable out, you cut him off.

“Don’t tell me,” you coo. “Show me.”

You would be lying if you said you never thought about the feeling of Anton’s plush lips on yours. In reality, you spent too many nights lying awake, thinking about the slick feel of his mouth on yours, of the way his large hands would feel clutching onto your body, of the feel of his soft brown strands underneath your fingertips.

But dreams never compare to the real thing.

Nothing could compare to the pure bliss of having Anton’s mouth slide against your own. He moves fervently, letting the kiss carry the twinge of desperation that you both have felt since you’ve met. It’s far from the polite way that you expected Anton Lee to kiss, but that makes it that much better.

His nose grazes your cheek as he tilts his head, angling himself to kiss you deeper. His tongue is warm as it eases its way into your mouth, the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill of the lake. The hand that was once grasping your hip travels down to your backside and thigh, lifting you up to wrap yourself around his waist. It’s improper, at the very least, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Anton sighs softly into your mouth.

It feels like ages before the two of you part, chests heaving where they remain pressed together. You’re so close that you imagine that even water can’t exist between you two. Anton’s abdomen is solid where your core is pressed up against him, supporting your weight so that neither of you are at risk of sinking.

“That,” Anton whispers, “is what I meant by impure intentions.

You can’t help but giggle at the boy’s breathless tone, suddenly feeling giddy that you were the one to make him this way. You were the one to fluster the ever-perfect Anton Lee. It was you. It’s always been you.

“Our parents…” you mutter reflexively, your mind a war zone.

“Hey,” Anton coos, bringing a hand under your chin.

With just a gentle tilt, you meet his eyes, instantly getting lost in the way his gaze bores into yours. As if he can’t help himself, Anton leans in to place a quick peck on your lips. When you part, a soft whine escapes your lips, mourning the loss of your lover’s kiss.

“Y/N, we’ll figure it out. I won’t let this go south because of our parents.”

You nod nervously, trying your hardest to believe in the reassurance that Anton is trying to provide you. As if he could sense the residual nerves, Anton presses his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss. The sensation makes your eyes flutter shut, a content smile beginning to grown on your face. After a brief moment, Anton chuckles.

“Who knows?” He mutters. “Maybe our parents will get that merger after all.”

. . .

[8 years later]

BREAKING NEWS: Lee Enterprises and TOTAL, Inc. have announced a historic merger to form one mega-corporation. This announcement comes one year after CEO and President of Lee Enterprises, Anton Lee, and Chairperson of TOTAL, Inc., Y/N Y/L/N, announced their marriage. The new multinational conglomerate will be known as Lakeside, LLC, and is said to have a current stock value of over five billion dollars.

.FIN.

#anton imagines #riize imagines #riize #anton lee #riize fluff #riize smut #written in the stars

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222shivoham · 2 months

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PICK A CARD: Your spirit guide's energy + their message for you.

Pile 1

The animals associated with your spirit guides are crows, seals, and other aquatic animals. Your spirit guides energy comes across as very secretive, so they may not have made themselves completely known to you. Even if you don't completely sense their presence, their energy is very protective.

I get a feeling that they are always working behind the scenes to assist and help you. You may sense them more strongly when dealing with serious situations, and especially when dealing with people, as they made lead you to the truth and true nature of others.

Your spirit may also be associated with the moon, having lots of inner wisdom and intuition to offer you. Furthermore, this guide comes across as a bit shy, but their overall energy is protective and loving. Your safety is their priority. Rainbow imagery may be a sign of their presence.

The message from your spirit guide is that they are helping you and protecting you as you work towards your life purpose. You have a lot of gifts and skills, some which may have not been revealed yet. You are urged not to let people or things push you off your path in fulfilling your life purpose.

Your guide is protecting you every step of the way. You are also advised to do some cleansing and protective rituals. Cut off toxic and negative energies in your life. You have a lot to offer, even if you can't see it now. Others may try to create obstacles for you, so be careful of who you are involved in your space or who you share your wisdom with.

Pile 2

The animals associated with your spirit guide are small birds. Thunderstorms and nature are also linked to their energy. The colors red or yellow may be important to them. Your guide has a very nurturing and motherly approach to them.

Their energy is very radiant, free spirited and full of light. This spirit guide has a lot of feminine energy, so they could be linked to a specific goddess. The priority for your guide is to help you shine, be happy, and to be able to truly express yourself.

Dancing or music may be important or enjoyed by your spirit guide. You may find it easier to connect with them through this. Even activities such as yoga, or forms of exercise, may help.

The message from your guide is that you have an innate gift or passion that you must no longer hide, but show off without worry. Your guide is urging you to pursue this passion that you have wholeheartedly. They are walking with you every step of the way.

If you're struggling to connect with others, it's because these people are not really meant to be on your path. You're more likely to find like-minded individuals to connect with once you start walking your path.

Furthermore, you may have a gift of bringing people together. There is a social energy here. You may end up working or doing something that leads you to meeting a lot of new individuals and imparting them with some of knowledge or help. If you have creative ambitions, be sure to pursue them. You could possibly show others how to tap into their own creative energies and show them how to express it.

Expression is very important for you and should not be hindered.

Pile 3

Your spirit guide is associated with black birds, rams, and butterflies. This guide's energy comes across as very serious and masculine. They have a no nonsense approach.

This guide is also associated with the moon and the stars, so you may see signs from them depicted with those imagery. The energy of this guide comes across as a mentor. There is a lot of intelligence and wit that they wish to give to you.

This guide may be a bit laid-back in their approach, so you may not always sense their presence, but when they make themselves known, it will be very hard to miss. They take themselves seriously and want you to do so as well. The Egyptian Ankh may be linked to this guide.

Your career and financial well-being, as well as stability, is the priority for this guide. Call on them as you embark on your career.

They want you to know that everything is going to work out and that they are going to help you build a successful career, whether it be your own business or within a corporate setting. Your financial stability is important during this time. Don't neglect it. Make the right decisions. Be smart about your choices.

It's time to really build upon the foundation that you have, rather than just settling. Your guide may also want you to spend more time in nature in order to ground yourself and to connect with them.

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novlr · 1 year

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How to write the cold

The way we feel cold is universal, but the way we contextualise it is not. Cold has a variety of connotations for readers, so it's important to decide how to use it, and what mood you want to convey in your scene.

While cold is often associated with negative aspects in writing, if there's anything the winter season teaches us, is that it can be a positive thing as well. Rather than just using the word cold, in your next writing project, try to contextualise it. Describe the weather, the light on the snow, the comfort of warmth after an icy swim, or the fear and loneliness of the dark on a cold night.

Here are our quick tips on how to write the cold:

In nature

Clean mountain air

Glittering ice crystals

Unique wildlife, like snow hares or polar bears

Snow muffled sounds

Steam rising from hot springs

Icy water in rivers and lakes

Overcast and rainy

Bright sun on fresh snow

Icebergs, glaciers, and ice floes

Storms and blizzards

Branches moving and creaking

Frozen ponds

Morning frost on grass

Snowdrops pushing through snowdrifts

Crisp and clear night skies

Wolves howling in the dark

Bare branches scraping against windows

Eerie shadows

Foods and objects

The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg

Heavy winter coats and scarves

Rich, hot meals with lots of gravy

Tea or coffee left out too long

Ice-cream, sorbets, or ice-lollies

Metal that is cold to the touch (like pots and pans or door handles)

Cold beverages straight out of the fridge

An icy bath

Freezer trucks or walk-in refrigerators

Dry ice

Crisp, fresh sheets on cold nights

Ice sculptures

A tap with a drip that freezes in place

Frozen celebratory drinks (like daiquiris)

A single cube of ice floating in a whisky glass

A cold pack for an injury

Character moods

Isolated

Lonely

Aloof

Sad

Comfortable

Snuggly

Focused

Panicked

Indifferent

A lack of affection

Calm and calculated

Disengaged

Serene

Depressed

Awestruck

Anxious

Reverent

Melancholy

Nostalgic

Impatient

Frustrated

Reflective

Character body language

Hunched shoulders

Crossed arms

Shivering

Snuggling into something warm

Rub hands together for warmth

Tight or strained expression

Biting dry lips

Furrowing brow

Glaring against brightness

Tense and rigid stance

Stand close to others

Slow, deliberate steps

Move quickly to somewhere warm

Sitting relaxed in a warm space

Actions and events

Start a fire or build a shelter

Winter hikes

Outdoor activities like skating, skiing, or sledding

Traffic jams or snowed in cars

Frozen lakes cracking underfoot

Dodging icicles falling from rooftops

Going ice-fishing

Long sea voyages

Frostbite

Suffering from a cold, the flu, or pneumonia

Brainfreeze

Snuggling under a warm duvet

Sipping from a steaming hot drink for comfort

Cold-water swimming

Walking to work in the rain

Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere

Chrismas in July in the Southern Hemisphere

Reading a good book by the fire while it snows outside

Positive aspects

While cold is often associated with negative emotions, using it as a juxtaposition can often help to accentuate the positive feelings you want to convey.

If it's cold outside, a character enjoying a hot chocolate under their duvet will give a much more positive impression than if they were simply staying in bed.

The beauty of the natural world in winter, like snow, ice, and winter foliage can also be used to create a scene of happiness and wonder.

Negative aspects

Cold is often used to describe characters who are emotionally detached, calculating, or generally unfeeling. It's become an easy way to clue your readers in to how they're meant to feel about your character.

There are also more creative ways to use the cold, however, like describing the disappointment of forgetting about a hot drink you put down somewhere and only remembering when it's already gone cold, or the feeling of shock after you first step out of a warm shower.

Helpful synonyms

chilly

frigid

icy

wintry

frosty

cool

nippy

freezing

glacial

brisk

chilled

cool

polar

bitter

snowy

raw

refrigerated

arctic

rimy

draughty

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hwnglx · 1 month

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this is a request i had planned in the past, but never came around to do it. felt very drawn to read on jk, so 🖤 enjoy

jungkook's real personality behind the scenes

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

+ jungkook is very likable off camera. he knows how to socialise, make friends and have a good time. there is a very non-judgemental energy to him. he isn't a fan of conflict, tries to continuously seek harmony and peace in whatever environment he is in. if a fight broke out, he's the type of person to just stand there watching everyone argue, he wouldn't ever insert himself in the conflict voluntarily. he truly does not enjoy drama, and just wants things to calm down. i see him laughing while giving in like “알았어 알았어 니가 맞아” translating to “okay okay, you're right”, even if the person is dead wrong. one of the least competitive energies i've read for till now lmao, he's just very chill and despises negativity.

jungkook is an individual, who's careful and considerate about people's boundaries. he has this nice balance between being very caring and compassionate, but still giving the people he loves the space they need. he isn't someone who will rudely dig his nose into other people's business. he just lets them be and is great at adjusting his energy to the desires and needs of the people around him. very people-oriented and polite guy with nicely established manners. huge people pleaser.

in addition, the maknae is amazing at balancing his several priorities, without neglecting one or the other. he's the type of guy who will always have an open ear for you, despite having twenty projects and obligations going on behind the scenes. he's someone who puts a lot of value into fulfilling his responsibilities in a reliable manner, and always keeping his promise. if one day he fails to do so, others would probably be understanding of it due to his busy schedule; but jungkook is likely to feel disappointed in himself. he ties a lot of his self worth to the things he can do for others, to the ways in which he can be of use to other people. he feels like he's his best self when he's had some sort of positive impact on someone else. that's when he can go to bed with a peaceful mind.

jungkook is also blessed with an incredibly passionate nature. his mind is constantly racing and full of creative ideas he'd like to realize. he's the type of person who doesn't do anything in life halfheartedly. he relentlessly pours his entire heart, soul and energy into everything he does, and is extremely ambitious. not a lazy bone in this man.

- he's very peace-loving; however once this man is dissatisfied, especially with himself, he can quickly turn into someone way different. jungkook can get very impulsive and let his frustration out on others, if he isn't happy. once he's fired up, he can lose grip on his temper and lash out on others, because his emotions can get very overwhelming. he has this habit of constantly bottling up his negative feelings and thoughts, always swallowing the criticism in order to avoid conflict and confrontation; until the dam breaks, and his emotions find their way out in a very overpowering manner. i can feel that he hates this about himself, and always ends up blaming himself for the things he said in heated situations.

jungkook is very aware of how his immense perfectionism can stand in the way of not only himself, but his relationships as well. he's very difficult to satisfy, to the extent of frequently feeling discouraged and distressed about the things he does. i can see this stressing out the people around him too, which he can feel guilty about.

he's extremely scared of failure, and disappointing people, or not meeting their expectations. this can often result in him withdrawing and isolating himself. because once jungkook finds himself in self doubt, it can feel like an endless loop, and he struggles pulling himself out of that negative state of mind. he can get incredibly lonely. like very very lonely. jungkook is amazing at putting on a show for people, giving everyone whatever they want, doing everything he has to do and playing the role of this “perfect” man, but there is some emptiness behind the glamour. during the reading, i kept thinking of him debuting at such a young age, and kept seeing this young and clueless kid in front of me. ever since he was only just starting to understand the world, jungkook lived for others. he doesn't know who he is outside of the fame, he doesn't know how to live for just himself.

note; i kept hearing lonely by justin bieber in my head during this reading. i don't know if he knows or likes it, but he seems to connect to the message a lot.

i can truthfully say, that jungkook isn't an idol who enjoys the spotlight. he can often feel disconnected from fame. he feels like it's an extremely shallow and superficial thing, that looks nice from the outside, but doesn't give you the fulfillment you need in life. for a long time, he struggled figuring out and accepting who he is as a human, not just as an idol.

a lot of imposter syndrome for him. (=not feeling like you deserve to be in the position you're in) the entire world being obsessed with you is great, it shoots your ego up to the moon; but in jungkook's head, the idol that everyone is so in love with, is not truly him. he really struggles with the pedestal that comes with being this successful, and can feel like he doesn't live up to the guy that everyone makes him out to be. he isn't the perfect man everyone portrays him as, and i can feel him hating that everyone expects him to be that. you're receiving love, but not for who you are, instead for who you have to pretend to be. it's easy for idols to be under the impression that their raw and flawed self is of little value. jungkook has struggled a lot with his self-esteem because of this.

i recommend looking “imposter syndrome” up to really get an understanding of how he can feel at times. it sums up a lot.

#kpop tarot #bts tarot #jungkook tarot

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scentedpepper · 3 months

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Missing | TWD

MALE READER X S5 GROUP

Summary: The group reverberates with a somberness upon your potential death

Content Warnings: Mention of Major Character Deaths from previous seasons, S5 and below spoilers

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Not too sure how I feel about this one

Could be read as GN for the most part (he/him used a few times, 'Father' used once, 'Brother' used once)

Was originally supposed to be centered around Daryl and Rick, but somewhere along the writing process, I devlled into just about every other member of the group

Ya'll know how many last names I had to look up for these tags

Enjoy?

_________________________________________

7 days.

Seven days of them searching for their found family member who went out to investigate and never came back.

Glenn thought for sure that maybe with all the shit they have been through, the apocalypse must have treated you a little kinder.

That was assuming you were already dead.

Which Rick, in all his glory, continued to remind everyone that until there is evidence, there are just as many possibilities as there are stars in the sky.

He thought it was a strange fit, all doom and gloom, it wasn't like Glenn to carry around the carcasses of such negative presumptions about his loved ones, but nonetheless, he had just the same.

An ever present reminder as the fire was stoked by Glenn's constant fidgets, his spaced-out breaths being released with the baggage of endless possibilities.

"Glenn's gonna lose it when he sees this one. "

Is what Daryl said to Rick on the night of day 5, your shirt clenched in hand, approaching the church with footsteps so heavy you could mistake them for Walkers.

The worst part, Rick thought, was how he had found it, which further fueled the possibility that couldn't help but arise.

A decaying Walker's den where there was a mass majority of bodies wearing clothes; Not Walker corpses.

Hopeless and without explanation Rick approached camp with a grim expression that took root in his features.

And when Daryl had handed the shirt to Glenn after he feverishly chanted let me see it, let me see it, over and over, Daryl observed the way his hand shook when he snatched it and how the same hand came up to rub his face after he confirmed in his own mind that, without a doubt, it was yours.

Maggie had to take the shirt from his hands and when she felt the dirt and grime ragged against her skin, she almost burst at the seams, Rick knew by the strain in her brows and the way her hands turned into fists at her side.

She was the first person Rick had questioned upon your missing presence, wanting to know who you had walked out with last night and who stayed behind, wanting to pinpoint possible places you might be, or routes you could've taken.

Her response was ridden with anxious adrenaline, her lips chewed raw in worry, bouncing on her toes before stomping off and pulling everyone together to go looking for you.

There was no conversation within the group but a mutual agreement.

Naturally, the first person they looked to for some account of wrongdoing was Gabriel.

You had always been so intuitive, like you were the one who could read minds not him.

The others felt so comforted by you, Gabriel assumed.

He was only too accustomed to the fact that everyone saw the good in you, the positive, and while that brought him a modicum of solace, there were times where he couldn't help but wallow in envy.

A man of God and yet, it was you who they looked to, as if you were Christ himself.

As if you were his light.

Gabriel couldn't understand this fascination.

When he had confronted you about it, rather presumptuously, Gabriel was too quick to gauge the situation and allow his ego to speak for him. Said confrontation also happened to occur right before Maggie and Sasha who shared pointed looks with each other as they watched the scene unfold before them.

You were quick on your toes, always had been. Back on the farm, when Shane had been more akin to a wild boar, you were always the first to confront him. Always calm, or whenever you spoke you at least had the appearance of it, always matter of fact. Even when your voice raised or when anger was seething through you, it seemed like everyone just stopped, and listened.

It was one of your redeeming traits, sharp tongue laced with facts that wouldn't hesitate to point out things that were missing, contradictions, positions and beliefs.

It left some satisfaction amongst the ton when Gabriel pushed out of Judith's designated room, nearly knocking Carl off his feet as the door came with his exit.

A flustered look had replaced him, no doubt having felt the embarrassment, as if he had been burning inside.

After a beat, he had apologized under his breath and carried himself in haste towards you.

Unfortunately, this incident occurred the last night anyone had seen you.

When everyone had risen that morning, one by one coming off the floors of the church and stirring awake those who remained sleeping, you were the only one who hadn't stirred. Because your body wasn't even of prescence.

Almost immediately, everybody went on an emotional and mental frenzy.

Even when the conversation with Gabriel didn't bode well for him. He refuted, if a little pathetically, that you weren't very friendly towards him.

Upon hearing of what had happened just hours before they woke, Daryl seemed to retreat back to the deepest of his old roots.

Begrudgingly, Rick knew this was what they called "fight or flight."

Luckily for everyone involved, Daryl never moved unless there was something to fight for. The man had gained some sort of control over the years of personal development but like a dog, he'd jumped on Gabriel the second tensions rose.

There was a knife pressed against Gabriel's throat when Drayl pushed him into the nearest wall and the preacher did nothing but pray to himself and accept his fate.

Minuets later of interrogation and threatening, Michonne and Tara intervenned, though Daryl seemed none too eager to back off the smaller man, not until he was physically being dragged back and Rick telling him to get a hold of himself.

"He's lucky I didn't slit his fuckin' throat! It was him!" Because back in the day, with Merle at his side, he would've and to hell with anyone who said differently.

Rick saw Carol's lips part to say something, as did Abraham, but nothing came out. That was because Rick cut them off by clearing his throat loudly, hands rising in demand to appease the tension in the church.

"We are going to look for him. It's no secret that we're standing on a ticking time bomb. " He was blunt and direct, his head turning sharply towards everyone and waiting a beat before he continued. "Everybody gets paired off. No one leaves each other's sides. And yes, Daryl, that includes Gabriel. “

His gaze softened upon the archer as he came around to see the anger and frustration but most of all, the pain in his eyes. He wanted to assure him, they were going to find you. But he couldn't find the words to, as his own fingertips surged with doubt and as the rest of the days proceeded, his whole body seemed to become encapsulated by it.

They all began out at once, weapons gathered, determination and grievance fused into them as they exited the church in pairs. The only 2 persons staying behind being Judith and Abraham.

Before the front doors fell, Rick sought out Gabriel, his fingers ghosting over the knob as his stomach tied in knots.

"If you so much as touch a hair on her head, " he was referring to Michonne who'd gotten the unlucky job of catering to Gabriel, "I swear it'll be the last thing you do. " He watched Gabriel swallow a lump in his throat in response. "And if I find out you had an inkling of any wrongdoing, God won't be able to save you. "

It wasn't an empty threat and the conviction in his tone let Gabriel know.

It wasn't just Daryl that was shaken by the fear of your abduction or death, there wasn't a moment where Rick could stop to inhale without thinking about you. How tightly you had embraced him 2 nights prior, when he'd confided that maybe he wasn't suited for this leader job anymore, that he didn't know where you all would go, or if you'd even make it past these religious grounds before succumbing to hunger.

There was warmth radiating off you like a furnace and he couldn't shake the soothing way your fingertips gilded against his forearm as you told him that things would fall into place in time, no matter how difficult it got.

But Daryl was a damn firecracker, this way of his to emote through hostility and intimidation was a way for him to cope with the potential loss of his brother.

You were not Shane.

There's so much Rick could rationalize before he no longer had the will to counter how much he wished you were there now to quell the savagery within his best friend.

Carl couldn't care less at this point, as the rage within him seemed to blaze each step closer to the forest. It burned at his eyes, tearing his hands into fists that felt as if their own knuckles may shatter within the grasp.

Rosita had to stop him.

"What?" He initially sneered at her, pushing out of her grip and continuing to stomp forward until he could feel her nipping at his heels.

"Carl, now is not the time to get some kind of revenge, alright? We'll find the fucker, but getting ourselves killed is not going to help. "

Eventually, she got him to sit down and collect himself which consisted of roughly pacing and rubbing his face with his palms in attempt to scrub the hostility right out of him. He wanted to scream, to fucking yell the earth apart because this wasn't fair, none of this was. He was fueled by Daryl's rage.

Carl found it somewhat easier to sit there and allow his teeth to sink into his knuckles while he suppressed tears.

Eugene and Tara had wandered the farthest the fastest, the church began to slowly disappear the deeper they strayed into the density of the trees until there was no distinguishable church at all, or street or houses for that matter.

They were silent the entire way, like speaking would somehow shatter the chances of finding you, safe, sound and alive.

So then when Tara did speak, Eugene nearly jumped.

He halted immediately, his body turning as he looked every which way as if you may suddenly appear behind a tree.

"We should turn around and just make our way back. " She whispered.

That was her biggest concern, because with the route they had taken, any further into the unknown, she knew there were no way to familiarize themselves with where they were.

"Rick said to keep searching til sun down and that's just what I intend to do. " There was an anger in his expression and an agony to his voice that confirmed his intentions were anything but logical.

"Eugene. "

And again his body suddenly felt like it wasn't his, or maybe his bones weren't aligned and he was a puppet, a stranger, someone entirely else.

"Eugene, we won't get anywhere trying to force out this search. Please. The sun is already setting, it's near impossible to see 10 feet ahead and even if we were to press further in the dark, they're-"

She didn't need to finish her sentence to know what she wanted to say, the image was still clear in her mind as if she had just watched the last interaction you'd had with her and Rosita. The absolute dejection you allowed her to see in your eyes, the hesitation and restraint you had felt in giving your hugs. She took one and wrapped herself around you and you didn't dare do more than reciprocate the tightness, afraid to hurt her. As if.

After some minuets, Eugene came to and they turned back.

When they got to the church, Abraham was pacing back and forth, doing circles around the confinements of the holy sanctuary with Judith in his arms.

"Where's Gabriel?" Eugene spoke cautiously, realizing the weight in his voice when he did so.

"He's locked in his office. Said to leave him to rot or somethin'. Not a bad idea, the bastards a fuckin killer. "

Abraham was just as convinced as Daryl. No one asked to elaborate because they somehow knew the moment he did, he'd lose his shit. Like a bomb that's set to a timer, ticking away until it explodes into your ears.

"Find anything?" He asked as Tara slid down the wall she had been leaning against since they returned and brought her legs to her chest. Eugene shook his head at him which made the soldier nod back bitterly.

By day two, Michonne decided to conduct a one man search party for the nights. When the moon came out, she snuck off to the woods and scouted the area she had previously searched, for any evidence that may have been missed on the 1st visitation. Which would prove to cause strife amongst the group when Carl found her out four days later.

"What are you doing?" He challenged harshly as he forced himself into the dark brush behind her with Michonne's body jolting at the abrupt arrival of company.

"Carl-"

"Are you crazy?”

The boy wasn't the only person who she'd receive these questions from, Tyrese had found himself wandering her way as well.

"Why would you come out here on your own? Have you lost it?" He griped under his breath, tone laced with disapproval as if the woods had just come to eat them alive.

"Well, what are you doing out here?" She retorted back in a whisper yell with a forceful gesture to the man who was just as armed, just as ready as her.

Her efforts were fruitless, though, and no response was heard, which left her walking the same way she came.

Rick wasn't happy about it.

At first, when Carl appeared through the door in the night, he thought his son was the culprit of the secret night searches, but soon realized what has transpired when he saw Michonne making her way inside.

"Everyone is on edge, alright? Everyone is doing exactly what is expected of them, they have been looking and looking and Michonne, it's about time you pulled your head from your ass and sat down for the night. " Rick had said 5 minuets after they'd settled in the privacy of Judiths room. Their voices were lowered considerably so as not to wake the others, but Rick's tone wasn't anything less than a demand.

"So we should just sit around?" She had, then, the urge to spit at him and remind him that you could be dead in the next second. Gone. Poof.

"We are not–" Rick's voice began to rise in octaves but he took a moment to lower the volume. "We are *not* just sitting around. "

There was an enervation in Rick's stance that Michonne could feel pricking her heart strings. He looked exhausted, absolutely strained.

"He could– he could be in trouble. " Michonne attempted to keep her voice leveled as she looked around in disdain, her lip trembling and Rick saw this, that she could not come to accept the way things were."I can't bury him." She hissed as a tear streamed down her face.

Rick knew exactly the terror Michonne felt in the pit of her gut and he knew that she was seeing the vision of a funeral and everyone in a heavy sweat of depression and rage. A few dead bodies surrounding the fire pit in the woods while everyone circled around you and Daryl cried.

He had already envisioned it all, envisioned the way Glenn would crack at your loss. While Maggie was reduced to hiccups and broken speeches, she had somehow found the strength to collapse to the floor and refuse help.

Bobs face would fall, for once, it would fall and Sasha wouldn't be able to handle the breath leaving her body, clutching Tyrese, who looked just as devastated, to her to bring her solace.

Carol would gasp but it wouldn't matter because no one would hear her over Daryl's sobs, no one would see the way her lips pulled down at the corners and the lines in her face would tighten.

Rick didn't like to think about how he might react. He imagined it be something similar to crazed. But beyond that, he didn't want to picture it.

And what about his son? Carl who hadn't even fully grown yet. Rick couldn't stomach the thought, the sheer utter torment he'd experience watching his sons body begin to wither. He didn't want to know.

You'd been there while he was unconscious in that hospital bed, through every storm, everything, by his side. You were a father to Carl as much as he was and you'd been nothing short of a supporting role to Rick. There's been times when you just drove the both of them off in the car, taking trips to lakes and nearby parks, anywhere that offered a semblance of normalcy.

You'd scout the places out days before, cleaned the place free of Walker's and set up a picnic on the cool greens of grass or tables. Even once or twice when the fire burned out at night or if Carl's blood started to burn so hot, you'd give them a midnight rendezvous, all three of you climbing up a tree or anything that fit the current circumstances in which the group resided.

Rick had to run a hand through his hair and all he could do was grab Michonne by her shoulders, look her forcefully in the eyes and say:

"We are going to find him. And anyone who gets in the way of that will pay. "

Because he wasn't going to accept anything else.

Which is why he didn't stop Tyrese or Daryl or anybody who wanted a chunk out of Gabriel the morning of day eight when he suggested that they move on.

He even went as far as leaving the church entirely, not caring to put aside personal feelings, not caring how he may look. His expression was sour and drained and at this rate, the only thing he cared about was finding you.

He would have no problem burying his tomahawk right into the preachers skull.

Daryl kept watch most of the nights, refusing rest for the past week because every time he tried, he felt as if it were a ploy. He became distressed each time he was reminded you weren't going to walk in and slumber on the floor next to him or Carol. You weren't anywhere.

It pissed Daryl off beyond belief to know there was an actual possibility that you weren't breathing anymore, weren't thinking, feeling.

His anger had to be one of the few things driving him into the same track less search the next day as he pushed through the forest ahead of Rick.

Things were starting to feel all too familiar and he thought he might find you in a barn just the same as Sofia. But you didn't pop out the doors in any walkers veil, you weren't bloodied nor torn apart. There were no traces of anyone or anything in those forests.

You simply disappeared.

And it left them in another night of quiet.

Spoons scraping agaisnt cans, the faint sound of chewing. A tiny droplet of rain hitting a window pane or two.

That was all.

No one spoke, yet they all sat around a room cramped with anxious bodies.

Sasha's leg brushed against her guns outline, her boots rubbed together, her tongue flicked at her teeth and she felt as if her thoughts were vibrating the inside of her skull, riling her from the depths. There was an eerily absence of anything positive, because at this point no one was expecting good news.

Gabriel's execution was more or less inevitable as each of the nights rolled by. There'd be the lingering aura of danger and anticipation due to the preachers remaining presence. But no one ever mentioned it, let alone had the will to.

It was hard to digest the concept of your loss because not a single one of them wanted to bury you, the group preferred to be broken and you had become like an integral part of what bound them.

Food was beginning to dwindle down the line of low and low to nonexistent.

And as they sat there, in silence, there was collective knowing resonating around them that this would be the last night they spent in the church.

Not that anyone dared to speak it, not even Rick, who gazed afar into the burning light of a candle and contemplated.

Carol noticed first, maybe it was her nose, fine tuned for the scent of trouble and like a dog trailing a rabbit, she jumped up with a clatter and darted towards the front door.

But she didn't even get halfway across the church, with Rick trailing closely behind her, along with the others who were all clammering to their feet, when the doors burst open on their own, the cool whip of wind entering the room as the room itself seemed to rise up in temperature.

There, with a trail of blood drops, a scarily dehydrated and filthy body fell into her arms.

It was you.

And the sigh of relief felt as if you breathed the air back into everyones lungs. It reanimated the whole church.

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ouchmyghostskin · 27 days

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Season 2 predictions regarding payneland:

I've been having thoughts since seeing the cameo where George said that there was a deleted scene post confession/ pre Crystal saying goodbye, where Edwin encouraged Charles to be honest with her about how he feels (which is kinda insane character development compared to episode one??? But good for him). Granted , they deleted it and we don't know why, but I'm going to assume it was for space/time etc. Originally I wasn't really sure if Edwin had picked up on the open-endedness of Charles saying that they had forever to figure it out, though I suspected he hadn't, but I thought that if he *had* that he would most likely wait. But now I think that Edwin probably saw that as "I don't reciprocate but don't worry we'll figure everything out". So I think the likelihood that Edwin might pursue something with someone else in season 2 is a definite possibility. Fully accepting Charles "rejection" and consciously deciding to address his loneliness and desire for romantic/sexual connection, despite his feelings for Charles. And....I suspect it's going to be the cat king. And I suspect that Charles is going to be caught between his interest in Crystal and insane jealousy about Edwin, and it's going to be the catalyst for him realizing that his jealousy is romantic in nature.

There is always the possibility payneland isn't endgame but I'm an optimist 👌

Now for some personal thoughts about the above that has some mildly negative feelings about catwin so if you would rather not read you can scroll now. 👍. Yay for curating your fandom experience!

So I'll be honest, there isn't even a small part of me that ships catwin. I thought the plot line was interesting, and I think the cat king is an interesting character that functions very well as a catalyst. I don't *hate* it and I have absolutely zero negative thoughts about people who enjoy it, just to be clear about that. Ship whatever you want, it's all paper dolls in a sandbox to me. For me personally though, I found the dynamic coercive enough to put me off it entirely as a ship. (For some people that's fun to explore, or ignore, in ships for a wide variety of reasons that I have zero desire to police, so again, I'm not criticizing catwin shippers). Secondarily , I actually don't ship characters all that often, but when I do Im pretty OTP about it, so that's contributing. But if that's the direction they're going in , it makes sense for them to continue with the cat king since it's established that Edwin is attracted to him, and has appeared to forgive him for manipulating him in season 1. So....I'll not be thrilled to see catwin content in season 2? But I can grimace through it if it's not endgame. Also...I've seen whispers that indicate some parts of fandom don't enjoy the jealousy plotline specifically bc they feel jealousy is harmful? I get it if it just doesn't interest you or brings up bad memories, but emotions don't harm others. Being angry or jealous is an almost unavoidable part of the human experience. Only your behavior motivated by those emotions can harm people. So ...I'm ALL for Charles continuing to grapple with emotions like jealousy and anger and coming to terms with realizing they don't make him an abusive person. Even if he handles it imperfectly that's still an interesting flaw, and there's an extremely large sliding scale of behavior between "that's something to work on but you are a great person" and actually harmful/abusive. Yay nuance!

#dbda meta #season 2 predictions #dead boy detectives #manifesting season 2

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romchat · 6 months

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Unknown (2024) visual analysis (ep. 1-8): How to film heartache

This show.

The writing and acting continue to be fantastic, but I feel like I haven't seen enough appreciation for Unknown's cinematography, which captures the heartache of Qian and Yuan's changing relationship so beautifully.

Here are some of my favorite moments of visual storytelling so far...

Framing & Composition

Something that I immediately noticed about Unknown is how much dirty framing it uses. "Dirtying the frame" is when a cinematographer uses architecture, nature, objects, or even people in the foreground to add depth to a shot. In earlier episodes, we often see Qian and Yuan framed together by everyday household objects.

These shots emphasize the uniqueness of their relationship: they are brothers because of the domesticity surrounding them and yet at the same time the framing almost tucks them away into a private space of their own. Their relationship is born from yet separate from the familial space they share with Lilli.

So when Yuan drunkenly confesses his feelings and shatters any lies Qian might have been telling himself about their complex relationship, the camera language loses its earlier intimacy.

We suddenly see more medium and long (versus close-up) clean shots where the characters are surrounded by tons of negative space, isolated from each other.

I also don't think it's an accident that we start seeing more dirty frames again once Yuan leaves for America and Qian realizes how much he misses him.

The New Years scene is a perfect example of this. As Qian miserably cheers an absent Yuan, we see the camera subtly pans to the side of the table where he'd usually sit. No one has been able to occupy that private space at home or in Qian's heart.

Visual Parallelism

In a previous post, I've talked about how visual parallelism (when we link characters, events, storylines, etc. through a shared image) can signal major changes in the relationship between two characters, and the show uses this technique in multiple ways. (Yuan’s cheeky and completely satisfying “is there something you want me to do?” in Episode 8’s seatbelt scene, for one.)

But I think the most striking moment is when Yuan asks Qian to confront his own feelings at the end of Episode 8.

When we look at the composition, camera angles, and actor blocking (how the actors are positioned in relation to one another) we can see that the scene directly mirrors the moment that Yuan gifts Qian with cufflinks in Episode 6. In that episode, Yuan is shot from a high angle, making him look even younger and more vulnerable, while Qian cups his face from above, anchoring him as he tries to give misguided advice:

Qian: I actually feel sorry for you. Isn't it tiring to love him? Yuan: It is. It's so tiring to like someone you shouldn't like. Qian: Then what are you doing? Why are you limiting yourself?

It's notable then that during the last scene of Episode 8, the roles are reversed and the blocking and camera language changes accordingly. Throughout Episodes 7-8, we can see the ways Yuan adopts a more mature approach to his interactions with Qian. He has made it clear that he still cares about him but he will only make another move if Qian clearly expresses his desires. Now it's Qian who is the most unsure and vulnerable, with Yuan anchoring him:

Yuan: Wei Qian, don't you like Wei Zhiyuan? If you do, is it only because we're brothers? This thing about us, is it that you don't want it or that you don't dare?

Like Qian had advised him years ago, Yuan now asks why Qian insists on limiting himself by denying what he wants.

Bonus Parallelism:

Both Yuan and Qian's kiss fantasies mirror each other as well.

#unknown the series #關於未知的我們 #meta #cinematography #taiwanese bl #bl dramas #chris chiu #kurt huang

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hannie-dul-set · 5 months

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EXTENSION: AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno realizes his type in women after getting kidnapped by his celebrity crush. w — swearing, kidnapping, crime in general. 1.4k words.

note — part 2 to an unlikely fanmeeting. to the anon who said that they envisioned eric from tbz as the ex boyfriend, this one's for u. enjoy.

a swoosh on the top. a loop at the bottom. two slopes intersecting before breaking of to scratch a little heart at the tail end. the ink is red. it’s always red.

“is this all?”

you remove the cardstock from the table, and with a sharp movement you snap your arm straight, presenting it to him. jeno looks at your signature— with the pretty loops and all, but he smacks his tongue in disappointment. there’s an impatient twitch on your brow as you eye him, waiting seated on the other side of your desk. jeno snatches the autographed card, “of course not," then tucks it into the chest pocket of his no longer damp shirt.

there’s a clench of your jaw, a tightening of your stare. your eyes stopped quivering even since starting the deal. a shame, because jeno had a lot of fun backing you into a corner.

still, he likes seeing you mad too— sharp gaze, knitted brows, lips on the verge of a sneer— almost foreign to the gentle and sweet expressions natural to your features. there’s no mix of melancholic blue like when you’re acting out a scene. this one’s impersonal, like you’ve got no shits to give. it’s red. all red.

jeno prefers red.

he leans a little closer. your annoyance shifts to suspicion. he rests an arm on your desk, shifting his weight to it. a single tap on the stack of blank cardstock. “i need a couple bit more,” he says, a quirk of the lips. “my boys like you a lot, too.”

a pause. then a sigh. you roll your eyes and shoo him off your personal space with a wave, to which he hums and obediently follows, and while the scratches of pen against paper fill your office space, jeno takes the once in a lifetime opportunity to snoop around a celebrity’s room.

the whole is flushed with dark mahogany, a singular lamp illuminating the area from the ceiling. there’s a case lined with countless trophies and plaques and certificates and awards. there’s a wall with a giant poster of your face on it. he flits his eyes over to you on the desk, blank faced as you sign each layer of cardstock one by one like a machine, then back to the bigger version of your face on the wall, smiley-eyed and innocent.

there’s a laugh trying to claw out of his throat. he spins his heels and returns to your desk.

“wait," he says, interrupting you from finishing the last card on the pile. your hand jerks to a stop. you look up at him, what now? on your expression. jeno is pretty sure he’s done a negative amount of good things to deserve seeing all these different kinds of faces from you. “can you put park jisung on that one?”

“what?”

“nice kid. a little clumsy. good with the bat,” jeno answers and you look like you could care less. “he cried three times watching sunwater. give him a little treat.”

you, once again, let out a exhale and continue writing with a rather aggressive scribble, ending the note with a pressure-pointed dot in the bottom right corner. “happy?” you deride.

he hums, “that’s not the attitude of someone who wants something from me,” and slides the stack of cards to his side of the desk, collecting it between his hands and slides them in between each other with a shuffle. “but anyhow, let’s get to talking.”

“finally.”

three loud taps on the table as he sets down the autographed cards. jeno takes the plush seat in front of your desk and drags it closer.

“you want us to abduct your ex boyfriend.” you affirm. “who is it? the eric sohn guy i keep seeing you on the news with?” a look of judgement overrides your expression. jeno simply shrugs. you can’t blame him for the fact that your face and name is everywhere.

“whatever,” you sigh. “anyway, yes, i want that bitch back here. he ran away to japan after i caught him fucking shin yona two days before our god damned anniversary.”

“damn. his loss.”

“the fucker knows i can’t run after him because my schedule is packed this week. one of which is an ad shoot with the bitch yona, by the way. if she doesn’t pull out voluntarily, i’ll see to it that she does.”

you sure do swear quite a lot. “i think i’ve seen her before. was it firefly? i don’t know, that movie was crap.”

again, with the look of heavy judgement. makes him want to keep egging you on on purpose.

“i get it that you’re a fan, but this isn’t a god damned fanmeeting, you know.”

jeno looks at you, a ghost of a grin on his lips. “does your company know you act like this?”

“of course not, how’d you think i stayed in the industry for so long if i don’t know how to act fake,” you roll your eyes. “back to the point. eric sohn. japan. can you bring him back here?”

“consider it done,” he says. his phone is out. you returned his shit earlier after wrapping things up in the basement. he then keys in a couple texts to a few contacts, eyes flickering between you and the screen. “and then what do you want? how badly do you wanna see him ruined? a few broken ribs and bruises? ‘til his face is unrecognizable? or—”

jeno closes his phone and drops it back into his pocket. he leans forward to get a better look at your face.

his voice is low, quiet, and hushed, yet pulls down the air into the ground with a gravity heavier than that of the earth’s.

“want him dead?”

silence permeates the room. he can’t read the thoughts running inside your pretty little head— save for the inkling that you don’t find his last suggestion the very least bit appealing.

“are you stupid? don’t you dare fucking touch him.”

your voice is aghast— offended. well, what did he expect. you might’ve acted the entire night like you had little to no regard to violence and the law— sending a bunch of men to kidnap him and all and waking up tied in a shady basement inside your own home, a few suspicious materials here and there, that’s got him thinking you’ve got graver intentions than a simple splash of water and a probably slap in the face.

“i only asked you to bring him to me and nothing more. don’t get ahead of yourself.”

but maybe there’s still a line that you you’re not willing to cross.

“what’s the point if i don’t get to fuck him up myself?”

jeno feels a rattle in his bones.

he drills his eyes into you— your face, devoid of any jest or hint of hesitation. it’s all red and raw reprehension.

“what? the hell are you staring at?”

the words tumble out of his lips before he knows it.

“think you could let me watch?”

there’s a pause. it’s cold and quiet in your office. you’re looking at him like he just desecrated your parents graves. in jeno’s defense, you put the image in his head and his mouth doesn't have the safety on. when he doesn’t take it back, you sigh, place a set of fingers on your temple, and say, “get the job done first before making any extra requests.”

well, that’s not a no at the very least.

“i’ve already made my payment so you better see to it that you accomplish your end of the deal.”

eyes flicker to the thin stack of autographed cards. he gets up from the chair with a rattle and takes it off the desk. “you sure about this, doll?” he asks, gaze flitting back to your face. “if word gets out, you’d be pretty much kissing your career goodbye, you know.” and after receiving your payment, he sets his arms down on the surface, leaning forward, grabbing taking out the red pen you’ve been using and scribbling his contact information on a spare sheet of paper.

he drops the pen with a clatter and takes a look at your expression.

“that’s fifteen years down the drain.”

you look like you’re tired of his shit.

“if word gets out that means you’re crap at your job,” you sneer, slapping your hand over the note as he finished writing. you slide it over to you with a screech. “didn’t you say you could handle this better than the incompetent fucks that brought you here?”

you’re looking up at him like you’re looking down, eyes snapped up, expectant and unforgiving.

jeno puts his hands up in a surrender, a sliver of a smile playing on his lips.

“you got it.”

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno x you #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct drabbles #nct au #jeno au #nct dream x you

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musclesandhammering · 5 months

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Something about the fact that the Loki writers have confirmed multiple times that his variants all look so different because of their inherit chaotic nature.

Something about the fact that it says in the show that the universe wants to be free so it manifests chaos in the form of Lokis.

Something about the fact that Loki is the TVA’s most common variant because every version of them refuses to adhere to their ‘destiny’.

Something about the fact that there was a scene in the show where Ravonna said “this is about order & chaos. I’m order-“ and then a loki variant violently burst in, implying “I’m chaos.”

Something about the fact that the entire story arc of the Loki series was about him choosing to free the sacred timeline & embrace all the anarchy & endless possibilities- positive & negative- that came with it instead of continuing to enforce the absolute order that would keep them all safe.

Something about Loki literally sacrificing himself so chaos could reign.

Something about the fact that Loki tried for years to beat He Who Remains through playing by his rules, and was only able to do it when he came up with a solution so insane that HWR didn’t anticipate it.

Something about the fact that messing with people’s minds & using tricky and unorthodox means of fighting has always been Loki’s Thing.

Something about the fact that at least one loki variant has the natural ability to rewrite the laws of time, space, and reality.

Something about the fact that Loki is literally the god of chaos- in the series, in the comics, and in Norse mythology.

And also..

Something about the fact that all of Wanda’s variants look and act exactly the same.

Something about the fact that the TVA never mentioned Wanda whatsoever despite her being a Reality Breaking Cosmic Anomaly.

Something about the fact that Wanda fans thought her reading the Darkhold caused the multiverse to open but Kevin Feige confirmed it was Sylvie killing He Who Remains that opened the multiverse, and in turn allowed Wanda to hear her kids through the Darkhold.

Something about the fact that Wanda almost always uses her ‘chaos magic’ to control people/events & bend reality to her will, which directly contradicts the meaning of chaos.

Something about the fact that Wanda has never once had any sort of symbolic arc or subplot or character dive directly linking her to chaos as a concept.

Something about the fact that the only thing about Wanda you could consider overtly chaotic is her propensity to go on destructive rampages when she doesn’t get her way.

And finally..

Something about the fact that, in the mcu, Wanda is constantly awarded with the chaos moniker- they decided to keep the ‘chaos magic’ name from the comics, fans call her the queen of chaos, and she gets credited as the token reality breaker pretty much constantly… while they’ve never even acknowledged on-screen that Loki’s the literal God of Chaos.

#late evening musings #I’m not bitter I swear #anti wanda maximoff #anti Wanda #not Wanda friendly #not Wanda maximoff friendly #mcu #loki #loki series #loki season 2 #loki meta

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tinytinyblogs · 8 months

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Gonna show them you're mine

Seonghwa is tired of keeping you and his relationship a secret; he's ready to take action.

(non-idol au, include one curse word) 2,4k words

💬@s1riushwa Thanks for this request! I hope you like the story I wrote for you. If you have more requests, feel free to let me know—I'm here to help!

Ateez masterlist here

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

He's really liked by a lot of people because he represents everything many wish to be. With his good looks, kindness, and caring nature, he seems like the perfect person. When he walks into a room, a bunch of people gather to look at him and appreciate how amazing he is. He has lots of different friends, and it seems like his life is really cool. It's like he's walking on a special path with flowers, a path that others can only dream of. When he's around, people can't help but think he's extraordinary, making him stand out as a really special person. Park Seonghwa is known all over the university, and even students from other schools know him. He's the main person everyone pays attention to, catching the eye of the whole university community. In simple terms, he's not just popular for his looks but also for being an outstanding person at the university. His popularity goes beyond just his own school; it reaches and connects with students from other schools too.

It's not only in his immediate academic surroundings that he gets attention. Instead, his influence and importance go beyond that, making him a central figure in the larger student community. You find yourself to be entirely different and the opposite of him, Park Seonghwa – a regular student leading a simple life that's quite different from his impressive and glamorous existence. Your group of friends is small, and your quiet and understated personality often means some students don't notice you, as you tend to keep to yourself. In every way, you give off an ordinary vibe. Both you and Seonghwa share the same university space, but it's like comparing day and night because even though you're aware of his presence, your lives are quite different. Every so often, you watch him from a distance, observing how people are drawn to him, creating a scene that feels like an unreachable experience in your own quieter world.

Your day usually involves basic activities like coming to the university, attending classes, exchanging greetings with a few familiar faces, and then heading home after it's all done. However, in this routine, there's a noticeable lack of the attention and recognition that seems to naturally come Seonghwa's way every day. Unlike him, your presence doesn't attract the same level of notice or interest from those around you. The difference is clear as you navigate through the academic world – Seonghwa effortlessly grabs attention, while you go about your routine with a feeling of being somewhat unnoticed, blending into the background. Life is like a complex picture, and surprises often hide in the corners, away from the eyes of the world. What no one really knows is that, in the busy university life, there's a secret relationship between you and Seonghwa.

Away from public view, you both share private moments as a couple, and Seonghwa proves to be the most wonderful boyfriend you've ever had. The choice to keep your relationship a secret comes from an agreement between you and Seonghwa. Mainly, it's a way to protect you from any potential negativity or unwanted attention that often comes with being connected to someone like Seonghwa. Knowing that some people can get possessive and intense about him, Seonghwa wants to keep you away from any hate or criticism that might come your way. Additionally, both of you understand the importance of keeping the real and personal aspects of your connection safe and intact. By keeping your relationship a secret, you create a special place where the true nature of your connection remains protected from outside influences.

This decision is intentional, aiming for your relationship to develop naturally, shielded from the sometimes harsh judgment of the public eye. So, you and Seonghwa continue to navigate the complexities of your romance in the comforting privacy, appreciating the authentic bond you share away from the prying eyes of the world. But one thing you may overlook is that even though you're not in the spotlight, it doesn't mean others aren't aware of your presence. Just as Seonghwa was captivated by you and charmed by your personality, there are undoubtedly others who have also taken notice. In the intricate dance of human connections, the mysterious and undiscovered often attract people, drawing them towards you, even if the details of your romantic involvement with Seonghwa remain hidden. In the middle of the busy crowd surrounding Seonghwa, there was a moment that made this clear.

He watched as a stranger approached and started chatting with you as if it was a regular conversation. From an outsider's view, it looked normal – just people talking casually. But little did this person know, your heart belonged to Seonghwa, and the conversation only covered what was necessary. The hidden aspects of your relationship added complexity to these seemingly ordinary interactions that unfolded in the colorful tapestry of your shared university experience. As time passed, Seonghwa began to notice a repeated pattern. There was someone who consistently lingered around you, having long conversations and giving subtle glances that, though not obvious, didn't escape Seonghwa's keen awareness. Having experienced those meaningful glances before, Seonghwa understood their importance. As this situation unfolded, a feeling of discomfort started to settle within him.

Even with many people around in different social settings, Seonghwa's focus stayed firmly on you. Seeing you exchange smiles with this persistent person stirred up a mix of emotions in him — a complicated blend of sadness and frustration. The conflict deepened for Seonghwa, who values openness and honesty. He found himself torn between wanting to express his feelings and recognizing the complexity of the situation. The contrast between the lively social scene and the quiet ache in his heart became more noticeable, creating a sense of discord that tested Seonghwa's emotional strength. However, Seonghwa now faces a dilemma. His frustration is not directed at you; instead, he's upset with himself. To your eyes, the other guy seems friendly, but Seonghwa knows the hidden motives behind the guy's seemingly pleasant behavior.

At a certain point, Seonghwa felt a strong urge to step in, to confidently approach you and pull you away from the constant presence of that persistent person. However, a strong restraint held him back — a clear awareness of the potential consequences if the public found out about the secret nature of your relationship. The internal struggle grew into a growing concern, becoming a heavy burden on Seonghwa's heart. The stark difference between the private haven of your affectionate moments behind the scenes of university life and the external appearance of two seemingly unrelated strangers on campus became an increasingly pressing issue. While the idea of maintaining this double life seemed okay at first, Seonghwa started to doubt how sustainable it was. The gap between the close connection you had in private and the apparent distance in public became more noticeable.

This led Seonghwa to realize that what initially seemed fine was now causing discomfort. The delicate balance he had tried to keep was starting to fall apart, making him face the complexities of a relationship that thrives in secrecy but desires acknowledgment in the open. As Seonghwa's jealousy became more apparent, you couldn't help but notice a change in his gaze. Even in busy crowds, his eyes seemed to tell a tale of longing and possessiveness, expressing the unspoken emotions swirling within him. At times, he would purposely take you to quiet places during breaks, a subtle but intentional effort to enjoy moments of focused attention that he felt were being given to the other person. Despite the obvious signs of jealousy, his responses to your questions remained guarded, with seemingly casual phrases like "I'm fine" or "Just wanted to be with you" whenever you asked about his feelings.

The contrast between Seonghwa's quiet expressions of longing and his outward assurances that everything was okay created a complex interplay of emotions. His desire for the attention you gave to the other person became a strong motivation behind these private moments, sharply contrasting with the calm responses he gave when questioned. The dynamic between the unspoken wish for a special connection and the act of appearing casual added a complex layer to the evolving story of your relationship, leaving both of you navigating the fragile terrain of emotions and unspoken feelings. All Seonghwa wants is to have your complete attention, just for himself. As Seonghwa, your dedicated partner, got more and more wrapped up in a mix of emotions, he found himself daydreaming about being openly recognized. He felt a twinge of jealousy watching other couples freely showing their love in public, holding hands as if the world revolved around their shared moments.

The longing to break free from the secrecy started growing within him, pushing him to express the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind. One evening, in the cozy setting of your home after a day at the university, Seonghwa cautiously brought up the topic. With his hand gently on your cheek, he pondered out loud, "What if we let people know that we're dating?" The question hung in the air, carrying the weight of his unspoken desires. Your response served as a gentle reminder of the agreement you both made to keep your relationship private, framing the conversation within the context of the deliberate choice you had made together. The contrast between Seonghwa's longing for public recognition and the commitment to maintaining secrecy added a poignant color to the delicate dynamics of your shared connection. The tipping point for Seonghwa came on a particular day when he noticed the other guy crossing certain boundaries.

The situation became more intense as Seonghwa saw lingering gazes filled with affection directed at you, even when your attention was elsewhere. The moment became especially difficult for him as he witnessed the guy's enamored smile in response to the sweet gestures or actions you took. In Seonghwa's heart, those gestures were supposed to be exclusively reserved for him, and the realization that someone else was intruding on what he considered his own territory proved too much for him to bear. The turning point, however, happened when the guy went so far as to use his hand to gently move strands of your hair away from your face. This seemingly innocent action, with an underlying tone of familiarity and intimacy, stirred up a storm within Seonghwa. The surge of possessiveness and jealousy that had been building up underneath erupted, and Seonghwa found himself unable to hold back the swirl of emotions any longer.

This explosive reaction was a clear expression of the emotional turmoil that had been brewing. Seonghwa struggled with the unsettling idea that someone else was intruding into the space of affection and connection that he believed should belong exclusively to him. In a moment of intense emotion, Seonghwa forcefully moved through the crowd, creating a path that brought him closer to you. Without a second thought, he grabbed your hand, urging you to follow him as he quickly guided you towards the privacy of the school rooftop. He was determined to distance both of you from the presence of that other guy who had been encroaching on what Seonghwa considered his own territory. In the heat of the moment, there was a strong intensity as Seonghwa pulled you along, gently but firmly pressing you against a wall along the way. Seeing your worried expression, you sought answers from Seonghwa, asking, "Hwa, what's wrong?" A heavy silence hung in the air as Seonghwa, still catching his breath, wrestled with the powerful emotions that had driven him into this sudden escape.

The presence of the other guy had stirred up a storm within him, leaving him momentarily unable to speak. "They're going to see us," you pointed out, trying to make sense of the situation. However, Seonghwa, with a determined shake of his head, dismissed any concerns about potential onlookers. "I don't care," he asserted, his voice carrying a newfound determination. "I no longer care whether they know or not." Placing a hand gently on your chin and drawing you even closer, he expressed his unfiltered feelings, "I want them to know that you are mine." The weight of his words, filled with possessiveness and a desire for public recognition, hung in the air, marking a significant moment in your relationship as Seonghwa unabashedly took control of the narrative of your shared connection. A significant realization dawned on Seonghwa as he looked into your eyes, reflecting on the depth of his emotions.

A feeling of regret swept over him, tied to the choice to keep your relationship a secret. In the earnestness of your gaze, he found himself revisiting the beginning of his affection for you, realizing that, right from the start, he should have proudly declared your connection to the world, without caring about others' opinions or attention. "I should announce to the whole world that you are mine," Seonghwa admitted with a hint of remorse, recognizing the weight of the emotions he had concealed. The intensity of your stare served as a poignant reminder of the missed chances to openly celebrate your love. In response, he declared, "No, I won't let anyone else love what's mine. I won't let anyone else entertain the idea that they have a chance." The firmness in his tone reflected a newfound determination to claim his stake and protect the sanctity of your connection.

Seonghwa, unwavering in his dedication, declared that regardless of others' approval or the acceptance of the other guy, you were undeniably his beloved. This statement served as a strong assertion of ownership and a commitment to no longer hide the love that rightfully belonged to him. Disregarding societal judgments, Seonghwa boldly stated, "I don't care about what other people think! Tomorrow, I'll proudly hold your hand all the way to university." The passion in his words was sealed with a heartfelt kiss, a tangible symbol of his resolve to cast aside the secrecy that had concealed your relationship. As the rooftop door opened, revealing both of you, Seonghwa met the other guy's gaze without hesitation. Instead of avoiding it, Seonghwa embraced the revelation, wanting the guy to understand the depth of your connection.

In that moment, Seonghwa's casual attitude carried a clear message: your love was no longer a secret to be kept. With the truth out in the open, Seonghwa's lack of concern about the possibility of news spreading about your relationship became apparent. In his eyes, others' opinions didn't matter much. The most important thing was that you belonged to him, and as long as that remained true, everything else could fall into place however it might. The recognition of your love, free from external judgments, marked a significant change in your relationship dynamics. Seonghwa embraced an unwavering determination to openly claim you, unaffected by the opinions of the world around you. Because, once again, whether they like it or not, you are his, no matter what.

©Tinytinyblogs

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leonaquitaine · 1 year

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Virtual Photography Guide: Composition

One of the in-game activities I enjoy the most is trying to replicate real-life photography techniques in gpose, and it’s surprising how much can be achieved. So today, let’s play around with composition!

Leading Lines

Leading lines can help guide the viewer's eye through an image. They’re visual elements that form lines, like buildings or roads, or even an area with high contrast, like the horizon line. So by aligning convergent lines to create these ‘focal zones’ you build a sense of depth and lead the viewer's gaze toward it.

Framing

You can use elements within the scene to enclose or surround your main subject. These elements could be natural, like branches or foliage, or architectural, like doorways or windows. This adds depth and context, and helps the viewers immerse themselves in the scene:

Symmetry

Symmetry creates a pleasing sense of order and balance in an image. You can do this by dividing your frame equally and positioning similar elements on either side:

Depth and Layering

Adding depth to your virtual photographs enhances the sense of immersion. By placing objects of interest in the foreground, middle ground, and background, you can create a layered effect that adds depth and dimension to your composition. DoF (Depth of Field) shaders are particularly well suited for cases like these:

Point of View

Experimenting with different and unusual camera angles and perspectives can yield surprisingly dynamic and engaging shots. For example, positioning the camera at a low angle and looking up at the character can create a very impactful composition:

On the other hand, top-down pictures can not only give the viewer a sensation of being ‘in the scene’ but also help put elements together that would otherwise be scattered around in a horizontal shot:

Negative Space

Negative space refers to the empty or minimalistic areas in your composition. It provides breathing room for your main subject and can evoke emotions, or create a sense of balance and calmness.

And let’s not forget the most important rule of all:

Break the rules

These principles serve more as guidelines than anything. Sometimes trying to force a composition into one of those categories can detract from an unusual yet powerful shot, so trust your eye and aesthetic sense.

I'll cover more composition techniques like the Rule of Thirds, Rule of Odds, Rule of Space, Golden Ratio, and others in part 2. Enjoy!

#ffxiv #gpose #gposers #reshade #gpose tutorial #gpose guide

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itsmoonpeaches · 4 months

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ATLA fandom and other fandom spaces have been ruined by purity culture, an essay.

In recent years I've noticed a trend, and call it what you will but it looks like a shift in cultural dynamics in how specifically Western (but mostly American) fanbases have interacted with media.

In short: there is an obsession with purity.

For lack of a better term, let's call it "an extreme form of wokeness." I know how this sounds, but I truly cannot think of a better way to describe this phenomenon.

Before I continue, I'm not one of the people who hates progressiveness or representation in media. I'm one of the people who champion it. However, I have noticed that ironically, this obsession with making everything positive, pure, and acceptable has watered down how both newer media and fandom have chosen to perceive a story.

Because this is the fandom I have been in the longest and seen the most of, I'm highlighting how purity culture has taken the Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA) fandom and shaken it to its bloody core.

Purity culture and the Netflix live-action

The ATLA fandom is stuck in a cycle of purity culture that actually renders the original media worse through perception and it's a thing that resulted in the Netflix live-action (NATLA) being what it is.

Both the fans of the original show and as a result, the creators of NATLA itself, became so afraid to let the main characters be flawed or have negative traits. In NATLA, Sokka's first season sexism was cut because of its problematic nature. In fact, they removed most forms of sexism in NATLA. The irony is that it made the show itself more sexist.

NATLA's Sokka was always right, always keeping the family together. His wanting to prove himself and keep the family together are not new traits different from the original Sokka, but these are highlighted with hardly any negativity. Sokka starts where season two Sokka is. He doesn't get a chance to learn and grow and be punched into sense by Suki.

And because Katara didn't grow up with a sexist brother, her character suffers too. She loses half of her fighting spirit. She doesn't feel the need to prove herself as strongly and is only driven by grief/guilt rather than an additional personal interest. So when there is finally a sexist scene in the Northern Water Tribe and she fights Pakku, it feels unearned. Pakku calls the North culturally sexist, but we had no build-up or evidence. And Yue is a strong powerful woman already from the North, so where is the basis?

Instead, Katara calls herself a master without learning from practiced masters. All unearned.

In another vein, Zuko suffers the same way and so does Iroh. Zuko is angry, sure. He whines like the teenager he is, but he is already portrayed as a misunderstood character rather than the antagonist he is supposed to be. His anger is simmered down, he doesn't want to burn down Suki's village. He has to be pure and perfect because he's a "good" character.

Iroh starts largely the same as in ATLA, but he gets constantly bombarded with reminders of what the Fire Nation did, and therefore him. This is a war crime Iroh who should never be liked, of course. Because he's not pure. He's not perfect. (Can you feel me rolling my eyes?)

Purity culture and the perception of ATLA's beloved characters

I already started on Iroh, but let's go a little deeper.

Where did this idea start? Well, the ATLA fandom is so obsessed with being pure and good that there have been fans who have pointed out that liking Iroh and Iroh as a character is so problematic because he committed war crimes.

Oh no, heavens forbid that a show set during a wartime period has characters who have dark backgrounds and committed atrocities! Let's just throw gray morality out the window!

If you're talking about war crimes listed from the Geneva Conventions, then sure he did. But also, ATLA is set in our real world's equivalent of the 1800s. There were no set war crimes then if you want to get technical.

But also, and I say this with the utmost respect, war itself is a giant crime. Are you saying that there's a low possibility of Zuko not having committed war crimes? What about Hakoda or any of the Avatars? If I got you there, if you are scrambling for an answer, then maybe you understand my bafflement at this fabricated issue about Iroh.

It is OK to let characters have dark pasts and reckon with them. It is OK to like them as characters because good writing will allow you to like the character and not necessarily the person the character is all the time.

Saying it's not OK to like a character because of a past misdeed that they have grown from stems not only from purity culture but from cancel culture too. It's almost like the fandom doesn't care that someone can change. And, without these flaws, all you have is a flat character that no one can learn from. I sometimes see these kinds of flat portrayals and interpretations in fanworks.

Purity culture and shipping

If I'm about to open another can of worms, I might as well do it with a bang. So, let me just list a few of the ATLA shipping fandoms where I have noticed purity culture coloring how they ship and who they will "allow" to be shipped:

Kataang

Zutara

Zukaang

Taang

(I'll admit, most of the ships.)

Kataang fandom:

They have a weird obsession with Aang being pure and right all the time because he's the main character. He can't have flaws. If he does then he's an abuser and Katara is in an abusive relationship.

In a newer phenomenon, Aang has to be aged up. Let's make Aang two years older than Katara rather than younger by two years. It's more acceptable to have an older male in a hetero relationship anyway. Might as well totally nix the fact that men being younger than women in a relationship is a thing that exists. It's not as accepted so, change it I guess?

Oh, and since it's also more acceptable, let's portray Aang with hair and always older. Hair is way more acceptable than voluntarily shaving your head or being bald. Let's throw his Air Nomad heritage out the window while we're at it.

Zutara fandom:

In a related vein, it's suddenly OK for Katara to be with Zuko because she's younger and Zuko is more "mature" than Aang.

Zuko is the older man and Katara is the younger woman, so it's more acceptable. Might as well keep it pure, right?

Zuko is never wrong of course. He's way past being flawed. He no longer has his Fire Nation background where it will take years to get rid of learned and inherent racism cultivated from a hundred years of war against the other nations. Katara also has to be super accepting of it too otherwise she's too flawed.

Zukaang fandom:

Honestly, this one isn't as much within the Zukaang fandom itself, but rather other ship fandoms ganging up on this one idea that if Aang is four years younger than Zuko it's wrong.

However, I'm sure there are those within the Zukaang fandom who bend this rule to their own benefit and pretend they're the same age in their fanworks because it's more acceptable.

Let's ignore the fact that there are real-life couples who are four years apart or the fact that there are larger age gaps that exist. Purity culture dictates that age differences are unacceptable because it might be pedophilic, but who am I to call this out?

No one is saying that a full adult should date a child, Karen. Newsflash, when you grow up, a four-year age gap becomes more and more negligible.

Don't get me started on pointing out that an age gap seems to be fine with hetero couples (see the above couples), but not same-sex ones. No, I don't care if the age gap is smaller in Kataang and Zutara. An age gap is an age gap. The ATLA fandom is the same one that says two years is too much between Aang and Katara but is acceptable between Katara and Zuko.

Does the fandom see something I don't?

Taang fandom

Toph and Aang are the same age.

I think I explained enough.

TLDR

The ATLA fandom has come to a point in which it cannot decide between the original story itself and what they have deemed acceptable in real life.

The purity culture within the ATLA fandom may be influenced by the notion that this is a children's show we're fangirling over. But, so are many fandoms. I'm aware that many people come to the ATLA fandom with a sense of nostalgia and many people who grew up with the show have associated it with childhood. Which is fine, but will that really dictate how you move forward? You can mature with the media you consume.

The fandom suffers from not understanding that media consumption should be an experience, not a fallacy. Nor should the fandom fear the prospect of flaws and nuance. It sadly comes to questioning the state of media literacy.

If a fandom is to thrive, it should embrace what storytelling is: a way to express feelings and sometimes to learn things. We cannot learn anything if everything is perfectly within one specific idea of acceptable.

#atla #atla fandom #atla meta #avatar the last airbender #fandom culture #purity culture #fandom #shipping #natla #natla critical #netflix atla #avatar

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novlr · 6 months

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Hi, can you write a paragraph about rain? Can you also give tips on describing nature? Thank you.

Rain can evoke a range of emotions and associations, from the childlike joy of splashing in puddles to the melancholy of grey skies mirroring a character’s mood. But while we’ve all experienced stormy weather, capturing its essence on the page can be surprisingly tricky. Here are some tips to help you write about rain in a way that will make a splash with your readers. (You can also adapt this advice to almost any nature description, but we will try to put out a separate post on more general nature advice at a later date.)

How does it look?

Use vivid adjectives to describe how the rain looks at different times of day and in different conditions.

Mention the angle the rain is falling at. Is it falling straight down? Angled? or even sideways?

Describe the size and shape of the raindrops – are they small and needle-like or large and heavy?

Note if the rain is clear or if it’s tinged grey or yellow from pollution.

Does the rain form puddles, streams, or mini-rivers as it flows?

Describe any ripples, splashes, or concentric circles the rain makes when hitting surfaces.

How does it sound?

Use onomatopoeia like “pitter-patter,” “tapping,” “drumming,” “plinking,” or “hissing” to mimic the sound.

Show the surfaces the rain hits and how that changes the noise — a “clattering” on windows, a “thumping” on the roof, a “plopping” in puddles

Describe the overall volume, from a soft “murmuring” or “whispering” to a loud “pounding” or “roaring”.

Note any variations or patterns in the sound, like a steady drone vs. syncopated rhythms.

How does the sound fill a space? Does it echo? Reverberate? Or is it dampened and muffled?

Describe how the noise of the rain interacts with other ambient sounds in the scene.

How does it feel and smell?

Describe the temperature of the rain and how it feels on the skin. Is it cool and refreshing or shockingly cold?

Describe the tactile sensations, like wetness, dripping, soaking, or chilly dampness.

Note how the rain changes the air, making it humid, misty, or heavy and saturated.

Describe the smell of the rain, which can be clean and fresh, dusty, earthy, or laden with ozone.

Describe how it feels to be out in the rain — are characters getting drenched to the bone or finding shelter?

Use metaphors to compare the feeling to other sensations, like tears on the face or a massage.

What mood and atmosphere does it evoke?

Use the rain to set the overall tone and mood you want to evoke, from gloomy and sad to peaceful and cleansing.

Show how the rain affects the setting, like making colours more vivid or obscuring things with mist.

Describe how the lighting changes, with skies darkening or a glistening sheen over everything.

Describe how the rain makes characters feel emotionally as well as physically.

Use the rain as a symbol or metaphor to mirror the characters’ mental states or the themes of the story.

Show how the rain transforms the world, slowing things down or washing things away, and how characters react to that.

Positive story descriptions

Rain can bring a sense of renewal, growth, and life to the world.

There is a cosy feeling of being inside looking out at the rain, safe and warm.

Rain can make everything glisten and gleam in the light, looking fresh and new.

Show the soothing, hypnotic quality of the rhythmic patter of raindrops.

Rain can be invigorating, energising, and joyful.

Rain can symbolise a fresh start, washing away the old to begin a new chapter.

Negative story descriptions

Rain can create a sense of melancholy, isolation, or loneliness

Rain can be an obstacle or hindrance, slowing characters down or forcing them to change plans.

There is a chilling, bone-deep cold that comes from being soaked in the rain.

Describe the bleak, colourless world that seems to exist when the sky is endlessly grey and stormy.

Show how the rain can feel oppressive, like a heavy weight pushing down on everything.

Describe how the rain can make the world feel dreary, soggy, and depressing, sapping energy and vitality.

Helpful vocabulary

Use words like deluge, downpour, torrent, cloudburst, hammering, lashing, pelting, battering, or thrumming to describe heavy, intense rain.

Try terms like drizzle, mist, sprinkle, shower for lighter rain.

Describe rain-soaked things as drenched, saturated, sodden, waterlogged.

Describe how rain dimples or stipples surfaces.

Gutters may babble, gush, trickle or overflow with rain.

Puddles can slosh, ripple, or reflect like mirrors.

Raindrops may bead up, roll, or slide down windows, leaves and other surfaces.

Adjectives like windswept, blustery, driving, relentless, or unceasing can evoke a storm.

The air may feel close, clammy, sticky, or muggy from humidity.

Petrichor is the earthy scent released when rain falls on dry soil.

Slickers, macs, wellies, brollies, and goloshes are rain gear that can add character details.

After a storm, the world may seem scoured, quenched, drenched, or newly baptised.

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sansculottides · 2 months

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Maximilien Robespierre was executed on July 28, 1794, or the 10th of Thermidor in the Republican Calendar. A conventional textbook may mark the end of the French Revolution with Napoleon’s coup in 1799. But Ralph Korngold, Marxist historian, wrote:

“No one man creates a revolution or carries it on, but the currents of revolution may sometimes range themselves in such a manner that the fate of one man becomes the fate of the revolution itself. ‘We did not realize,’ said Cambon, ‘that in killing Robespierre we would kill the Republic.” (From Robespierre and the Fourth Estate–the “fourth estate” here referring to the budding proletarian class of the time. Korngold gave particular attention to Robespierre’s role in the attempt to enact the Ventôse Decrees, the most revolutionary laws proposed during the Republic which would have expropriated the wealth of counter-revolutionaries to be redistributed to the propertyless.)

Napoleon’s ascent ten years after the start of the Revolution only marked the final stab in a Republic that was already good as dead. The death of Robespierre and his allies was the death of the Revolution’s radical aspirations, and allowed the propertied men to fully take charge. Though I also appreciate the sentiment that we can also mark the Revolution’s end a bit after Robespierre, with the death of Babeuf, the “proto-communist."

Anyway, what I really wanted to do was talk about a phenomenal short film that came out this year (on Robespierre’s birthday), “La mort de Robespierre” by smileyfaceorg/Janelle Feng (who has done so much amazing art about Robespierre and the French Revolution).

The film focuses on the night before 10 Thermidor, before Robespierre’s forceful arrest. This historical episode has been depicted before, in various ways. In the 1989 movie La Revolution Francaise, Robespierre had gone insane at this point, an interpretation that fed off of years of black propaganda. In Feng’s film, Robespierre is depressed, remorseful and self-loathing, an interpretation that does have its footing in historical record. In the months leading up to his arrest, Robespierre was frequently sick from the mental exhaustion of running and defending the Republic.

Mental health isn’t a new thing, though we have admittedly only recently begun to be articulate on the subject. Mental health amongst revolutionaries isn’t new either. Even Lenin died of sickness likely compounded by the stress of protecting the Revolution’s gains. In the 1871 Paris Commune, the commune council was “a working, not a parliamentary body [but] executive and legislative at the same time,” which allowed members to fully dedicate themselves to the cause of building a socialist future, but also burdened them with a punishing workload with little room for rest, and the mental exhaustion that naturally follows. I’m sure every person in any radical movement knows the weight of the struggle, but that’s one reason why it must be a collective effort.

At one point in the film Saint-Just looks at the 1793 Declaration of Rights on the wall and comments “To think we made that.” It’s another historically-rooted moment, as there was at least one eyewitness account claiming he did something like that on that night. I think the presence of the 1793 Declaration also ties the film in with the radical tradition of interpreting the Revolution. The ‘93 Declaration was more egalitarian than the initial 1789 Declaration, signed off by a pressured Louis XVI and also the one more textbooks would remember.

I love the use of comic elements too. Comic devices in film would make me think of stuff like Spiderverse or Scott Pilgrim where it’s fun and wacky, but in this film Feng uses comic devices to contract and expand space and time to an introspective yet claustrophobic effect. Especially the scenes where panels surrounded by negative space hint at Robespierre’s inner turmoil. It works really well; comic elements can work like poetry, after all.

I love stuff like this, art that is rooted in history (with quite scholarly rigor) while also aiming to go beyond academic scholarship. You can’t quite explore things like emotions and human experience the same way you can through art. Art like this film looks at historical facts and tries to fill in the gaps. How did they feel about this, what kind of effect did it have? And it explores how these historical people and episodes were human. More importantly, it does so with empathy and purpose, keeping in the “spirit” of the historical figures depicted. If you truly read Robespierre, you wouldn’t give in to lazy portrayals of a mad dictator. In contrast, Feng’s short film shows so much care and attention for this person in the past.

I’m so happy that someone like Feng is making art about the French Revolution. Most of the films, novels, games, etc that come out about the French Rev usually just follow the boring, very liberal and mainstream narratives, and calumnies about Robespierre being a dictator or various other kinds of monsters (not true). Korngold wrote about this too: “The Red Terror appears unpardonable to the Whites, and the White Terror to the Reds. Carlyle penetrates closely to the truth when he says that the reason the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution has received so much scathing comment, is mainly because it was directed against the privileged classes and their followers and not against ‘the voiceless millions.’”

Like the rest of history, our interpretation of the French Revolution exposes the undercurrents of ideology, conscious or not. Our ideas of who should be in power, who should be listened to. Ultimately, it did end as a revolution of the budding bourgeoisie, but before that defeat, there were revolutionaries who imagined and fought for a new future for all. Not just a political revolution, but a social and economic one. We should remember their revolutionary example. There is a reason, after all, why the Soviets held the likes of Robespierre, Saint-Just and Marat in high regard.

#frev #robespierre #french revolution

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cherry-velvet-skies · 9 months

Text

Within You, Without You (18+)

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, all the things

Warnings: A very short sex scene, power play if you squint, slight nipple play, convos about insecurities and low self confidence and stuff like that

Words: 3.2k

Summary: 1967 era; You need to find a way to relax, and George offers to be your guide through tantral meditation

T/N: Domine- Latin for master; used from a place of utmost respect

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You had tried everything. Anything that would help to decrease your stress levels. These past few weeks had been tough on you, and all you wanted was for your brain to quiet down for a bit. But nothing seemed to work, no matter how hard you tried. So, you thought of the only thing that even had a shot at clearing your head: meditation. And lucky for you, you had just the person to teach you.

For someone with his level of experience, George was very well versed in the art of meditation. He had been given the tools to get to a place where he was comfortable practicing on his own, and that was really all there was to it. And he was more than happy to pass on any amount of his knowledge to you.

"Most people start out in the position you see most often, which is sitting on the floor with your legs crossed." George instructed as he sat down next to you, demonstrating the position. You couldn't help but stare at the wide variety of decor placed throughout the room. George had a specific room that he would go only to meditate. Apparently, having a designated space is supposed to enhance your chances of successful meditation.

You had half expected the room to be devoid of color, but it was quite the opposite. It looked as though all the wonderful colors of the rainbow had performed an interpretive dance across the walls, twirling and swinging about in perfect harmony. This was not the environment you had in mind.

"I always thought meditation was supposed to be about clearing your mind." You stated. "That's why most yoga studios are painted white." George gave you a confused stare.

"Meditation is about clearing your mind of negative energy. Not blanking it out completely." He replied, smoothing out the carpet fibers beneath his feet. "Meditating in a completely white room is not going to help you at all. You should be surrounded by things that are going to positively stimulate your brain." He looked around for a moment, admiring his own decor before turning back to you. "Although positive stimulation looks different for everyone, an assortment of colors is the most natural form of it."

“So is meditation always done this way?” You questioned, honestly having no clue where to start. George always had so much knowledge to share, and it wasn’t that you had no interest in meditation. You often felt that it wouldn’t work for you, but realized that you would never know if you never tried.

“This practice is the best entry to meditation. But once it comes more naturally to you, you can do it from anywhere at any time,” George explained, “To reach an optimal mental state for meditation, it does take much more than to sit cross-legged and close your eyes. It’s about reaching an internal piece, which would then translate to the physical body. However, the key is to start small.” He motioned towards several fluffy pillows on the floor beside him. “If the floor is too hard, you can use one of these.”

“And by doing this, I'll just…feel better?” You asked, getting comfy on one of the pillows. There were several colors, the one you chose being a soft orange.

“Well, not exactly.” George chuckled, He was always so patient. “You have to incorporate your mind as well. Like I said, clearing your mind means clearing negative energy. The best way to do that is to think of a place that brings you comfort and imagine that you’re there. To get in touch with both your mind and your body.”

You sighed. That was always your problem. You felt like you were too much in your own head and needed an escape. How were you supposed to be one with your mind if you didn’t even want to be in there in the first place?

“I just know what’s going to happen,” You whined, “I’m gonna get frustrated and it’ll have the opposite effect on me.”

George blinked at you, pursing his lips. “Can you at least try, love?” He offered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s genuine desire to help you truly did make things easier, but it was your stubborn brain that wouldn’t put in the effort. It technically wasn’t entirely your fault, but it was hell to live with. But George was right. Not trying meant shutting out the possibility of finding a solution. He didn’t want you to do it just to please him. He wanted you to want to do it. To do it for yourself.

“Alright.’ You said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll try.”

George smiled warmly, adorable fangs on full display. He didn’t have to do much to help you get ready as you were already in position. He stood off to the side, waiting to begin his part of the process as you settled into a comfortable zone. You did everything he said. Crossing your legs, closing your eyes, and relaxing into a decompressing posture. You drew in a deep breath, exhaling and trying your hardest to release any tension along with it.

After you closed your eyes, you felt George continue to stand around you, assessing your method of choice. You decided to go with the traditional method, despite your earlier qualms about its lack of stimulation. You figured that maybe less was more, and that by trying to calm your body down to an optimal level, you would achieve your desired outcome. But of course, without fail, once you tried to focus on finding a sense of tranquility, your thoughts took over and you were back where you started.

“I can’t…” You said shakily. “I can’t do it.’ You still hadn’t opened your eyes, because you knew if you did, there would be no stopping the flow of tears.

“Perhaps you need something else to focus on.” George replied, standing behind you now. He placed his hands on your shoulders and waited there for a moment. You didn’t tense up or try to move away, so he proceeded. He slid his fingers up and down your neck, gently squeezing your muscles as he went. You still kept your eyes closed, but furrowed your brows in confusion. To you, this seemed like the most inopportune time for a shoulder massage, but refused to object. You trusted that George knew what he was doing to some degree.

“Think of yourself as if you were facing them directly.” He announced, implementing a new kind of tactic, “Give them advice on how to achieve your goal right now.”

“George, what are you doing?” You interrupted, “How is this supposed to make me relax for meditation? The last thing I want to be thinking about is how I view myself.” George removed his right hand from your shoulder and placed his index finger at the base of your head, slowly tracing down your spine. You shivered, feeling like electricity was flowing through your body. “How did you do that?” You whispered, a slightly shudder moving through your voice as you spoke. “Why did I feel that?”

“We often find it hard to look within ourselves for answers, especially if we feel we aren’t qualified to give them. The vision of speaking to someone else helps to translate that motivation into an exterior perspective.” Classic George. You ask him a simple question and he gives you the secrets of life.

“Okay…” You breathed, “But when I look at myself, all I do is criticize them, whether it’s a mirror or a clone.” You were close to giving up, and it was clear George was running out of options. He remained stationary, his hands never leaving your shoulders. He sighed, thinking for a moment before making any sudden movements.

Mere seconds later, George resumed his shoulder massage, but instead of maintaining his posture, he bent down, mouth level with your ear. His voice was not above a whisper, his tone dripping with a new and improved delightful idea.

“Tell me how to help you, my Domine…”

You froze. This was the only thing that actually got you to sit up straight. You opened your eyes and turned to look at George only for him to shush you and turn your head back to stare at the wall in front of you. He kept his left hand cupped around your jaw, making sure you didn’t move it again, but there was no discipline. His grip was quite loose. You ideally could’ve gotten up and walked out if you truly wanted to. He wasn’t keeping you there.

“You know latin?” You mumbled, still perplexed at his new name for you.

George chuckled. “I know many things. All are useful at some time or another.” He pressed into your shoulders, his smile growing as you released some tension in the form of a strained whimper. He leaned to your ear again.

“If you can’t tell yourself what to do…tell me instead.”

You froze, but your following response was done with no hesitation. It was methodic. Robotic, almost. You adjusted your posture, locking into your newfound confidence.

“Make me feel good.” You whispered, knowing no additional details were needed. George went straight to work, placing his fingers at the back of your neck, towards the base of your skull. “Make me feel that sensation again.” You added, not knowing how to describe it but already feeling addicted. You wished it could flow through your body on command, giving you a boost at any time of day. You pretended as if you were alone, eyes closed and rhythmic breathing as his hands explored your body. A small sigh left George’s lips, exhaling a small puff of air onto your lower back while his fingers wisped across your spine. Every touch felt like a feather, as if he was there but he wasn’t. He truly gave you the illusion of peaceful solitude, merely being an assisting spirit to guide you in your journey of inward and outward reflection.

“Move to the front.” You announced, and George stopped in his tracks. Your initial reaction was to withdraw, fearing you sounded too demanding. Too commanding. Too strong. But you remained stationary, awaiting your lover’s next move. You heard him shuffle, and the new shadow in front of you, changing the amount of natural light billowing onto your body gave you the confirmation that your orders had been followed. George inhaled another long breath, ostensibly entering his own corresponding headspace.

“All I wish is to please you, my dear.”

Your body gave into the scene, falling back onto your palms while still keeping your legs crossed. You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him, giving him a compensatory level of control in this otherwise hierarchical situation. After a while, George began to drift off as well, taking in the sensation across your torso as he massaged your chest and pressed small kisses across your shoulders. You didn’t expect him to take to this so easily, but it seemed like second nature to the two of you. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way.

What mostly came to your surprise was when George’s fingers brushed over your nipples through your shirt, causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You still weren’t sure if that was intentional or not, but there was certainly an additional advantage. He was testing you, waiting to see if it was what you wanted. Technically, you had complete control over what he would do next, yet he knew that if he took matters into his own hands, you wouldn’t stop him. You wanted it more than ever. You wanted to tell him to just have his way with you. And you knew you absolutely could. He knew you could. He would do whatever you wanted him to. But it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was all about how long you could fight the urge to tip the balance. To realize that the one who submits all power is truly the one in control. He was giving you the chance to be demanding. To be commanding. To be strong. The power play was absolutely diabolical.

“Do that again.” You choked out, trying your best not to sound desperate. George knew exactly what you wanted. So he did it again, but softer. More enjoyable. More deliberate. And by telling him what you wanted, he knew you had acquired a new goal. And you wanted to see how far he would go to please you.

“Make me feel confident.” You sighed. “Make me feel powerful.”

“I can’t do that, dear.” George replied without missing a beat, thumbs still slowly dragging back and forth across your nipples. “That has to come from within.”

You whined. The closer you got to what you wanted, the harder it was to keep up the confidence. You thought choosing the route of pleasure would be easier for you, but it was the same old story. Entering with a confident facade was simple. But the deeper you went, the more you wanted to back out.

“It doesn’t feel like me.” You breathed. George moved his hands to your waist, opting for a soft massage to ease the level of stimulation.

“Don’t lose it,” He whispered, “You were doing great.” You didn’t respond, slowly being dragged back inside your own head. If this had any shot of working, George knew he had to keep you grounded. “We both know this is something the real you wants.”

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts into a neatly folded pile. Based on your personal skills, it looked more like a lumpy pile of laundry, but at least it was all together. You tried to imagine that you were alone again. That your only company was yourself. And for the first time, the person staring back at you was a true reflection. Still in your own world, you whispered so that only you could hear.

“Give me what I need. Give me what I want.” But George heard you loud and clear, assuming his role and getting you to the end. He resumed his deliberate touching across your chest, and you immersed yourself in it as if it were your own. You don’t know how long it went on for, but all you knew was that you never wanted it to end. George moved as if he was giving a deep tissue massage to your soul. Everything you said, he did. Everywhere you wanted to be touched, he did. He didn’t need to understand your rhyme or reason. Whatever your body was calling out for needed to be answered. The real you needed to be heard.

Eventually you felt a bout of pressure begin to build inside you. The longer it went on, the stronger it felt. Lately, the concept of pleasure had been one form of stress relief you couldn’t rely on. Try as you must, you couldn’t bring yourself to the edge. But this time was different. In his newfound role, George had bestowed upon you the virtual reality of physical pleasure. It wasn’t sex. You didn’t want sex. Throughout this entire session, you had never once asked him to touch you in your most intimate place. This was about stimulation. But if it ended in an orgasm, you were more than satisfied with that.

And you felt it. It slowly rose, like a high tide during a full moon. The soft light bouncing off the rippling water like your body started to shake, the glorious light of your soul trying to break out of your skin. Though he sensed you nearing the edge, George didn’t speed up. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t change anything. He stared at you as your head tipped back, small moans leaving your lips. You couldn’t say anything else to direct him, but there was nothing left to say anyway. The pleasure had peaked, the wave reaching a new height. It came crashing down onto the shore, your orgasm flowing through you. You released with a gasping shout, your exclamation nothing short of the highest praise for George and his intricate touches. Your arms could no longer hold you up, and your elbows buckled, sending you falling backwards onto the floor. George caught your head before you made contact, lowering you down the rest of the way. He rubbed small circles on the soft skin of your stomach just above your waistband. You sighed, your breathing slowly returning to normal as your lover began to leave small kisses on your right shoulder. You giggled, celebrating the fact that your new goal had been accomplished: it was the first time you had ever come untouched.

George laid on the floor next to you, head tucked in your neck and one hand flat over your stomach, patting it in a slow, rhythmic fashion. “You need anything?” He whispered, poking your ear with his nose. You shook your head no, not wanting to move from this position, which included having him next to you. You rolled on your side to face him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “I do have one question, though,” you mumbled, still in your post-coital haze, “does meditation usually lead to sex?”

George chuckled, slinging his arm over your hip to brush his hand over your back. “That is called tantra, love. It uses multiple forms of stimulation simultaneously, and yes, sometimes it does result in pleasurable situations like these.”

You smiled, pondering the topic. “So it’s meditation in the form of pleasure? But how does that relate to me feeling more confident?”

“It’s all about unlocking your true potential.” George replied, pausing briefly to perfect his explanation. “You felt confident. That’s mental stimulation. And paired with the physical stimulation, it provided enough emotional stimulation for you to have a powerful release.” He stared into your eyes with a mixture of love and gratitude. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to own up to it yet, but having you tell him what to do was also an example of mental and emotional stimulation. One that he had not been able to find on his own. The concept of joint meditation was something mutually beneficial.

“So when can we do it again?” You mused, earning a light chuckle from the man beside you.

“Whenever you want, my Domine.” George teased, seeing how you shivered at the recurring mention of your new title. He took the pillow that you had been using as a cushion and urged you to lift your head, placing it on the floor underneath you, watching as you sunk into the plush fabric. You smiled warmly, watching him take another pillow from the pile beside you, both of you get comfortable on the floor. The carpet was soft enough, but the addition of the pillows made for a fine place to have a nap. Eyes softly closing as the warm sun cascaded through the window and blanketed your nearly sleeping forms, your voice came as a barely audible whisper.

“Did you enjoy having me be in charge for once?” George smiled, not bothering to open his eyes to respond, but hearing your statement loud and clear. He thought for a moment before answering, but there was technically no need. He was no stranger to an apparently not so new experience.

“You’ve always been in charge to me, my dear.”

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Happy new year y'all! 🥰🥰🥰 To kick off 2024, I figured I would finally finish up the last fic that was featured in that poll I made however many months ago that was lol also I will say that this is my first smut fic so pls go easy on me 😅 I'm sure I'll get there eventually BUT other than that I hope you enjoy! 😁

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