#the modern romcom would not be the same without you

[hycinthrt]

i love how a big part of elizabeth bennet’s character is that she is obviously very smart, she is very observant, but she can easily be led astray by her preconceived notions, by things that she already has convinced herself of believing. and this is most obvious by her not seeing mr. darcy’s proposal coming at all, because girl that man was openly flirting with her. i don’t think this is shown a lot in the movie or the tv series, but he keeps teasing her, answering her witty remarks with a smile, the whole “i am not afraid of you” thing. like, charlotte saw it coming, colonel fitzwilliam definitely saw it coming, the gardiners knew as soon as they saw them together later in the book, mr darcy was not as subtle as he thought he was being

seriously, god bless you jane austen for giving us this romance of two fucking idiots constantly misunderstanding each other’s actions and intentions. god bless you for giving us mr “aha so like what do you think of your friend’s marriage? you wouldn’t mind living away from your family when you marry right? oh, no reason, no reason, just a random thought. and what do you think of rosings, you know if hypothetically you were ever a guest there, no, no reason hehe”, and miss “i wonder why i keep coming across mr darcy during my walks, i even made sure to tell him that this is where i usually take my walks so he can avoid me but we are still??? running into each other???? and he keeps asking me all these strange questions too, what a weirdo”

just, two idiots that were made for each other

[fortunxa]

❝ HOT & COLD ❞

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: Jinx and you are over—officially. But the lease says otherwise. Add a blizzard, a broken heater, one very unfortunate bed-sharing arrangement, and too many grudges to count. The blanket is thin, but the line between hatred and muscle memory is even thinner. Who knew emotional repression could be this warm?

contents: soft angst & fluff, exes to… something, forced proximity, only one bed trope, accidental intimacy, domestic tension, mutual pining, yearning, idiots (still) in love, poor communication skills, sleepy confessions, romcom fic, modern AU.

wc: 4.4k

Jinx masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Jinx and you broke up.

Like, broke up broke up.

With tears, screaming, one shattered mug (accidental), one shattered phone screen (less accidental), and silence, in the end. Not the peaceful kind—just the kind that buzzed with all the things you didn’t say and probably wouldn’t.

It was Jinx who muttered, “Fine. We’re done,” and you who said nothing in response.

Not because you agreed, but because you didn’t want to beg. Again.

But, in your infinite brilliance, neither of you remembered to check the lease. Or maybe you did remember—just silently hoped the other would cave first and move out.

Because rent was hell, and pride was worse. And if you left, Jinx would win.

She was absolutely thinking the same thing.

Weeks passed. Two months, technically.

Two long, passive-aggressive, emotionally charged, death-by-a-thousand-paper-cuts months of sharing the same apartment like strangers who knew exactly where the other kept their trauma.

She holed herself up in the bedroom, headphones always on, voice rising in chaotic bursts during gaming streaks or mechanical rants to no one. You took the couch, curled into yourself at night, watching bad movies on low volume, mouthing along to the dialogue just to feel less alone.

It was the kind of breakup that involved changing the other’s profile picture on Netflix to their least favorite character just to push buttons, arguing about mugs that were mysteriously “stolen” (Jinx still maintained that the “World’s Okayest Girlfriend” mug always belonged to her), and a dramatic declaration from you that you needed “space to grow without someone damaging your Minecraft village every night.”

You coexisted in a very passive-aggressive ceasefire, held together by sheer spite and a mutual agreement to pretend the other didn’t exist outside of kitchen-related war crimes.

“STOP EATING MY CEREAL” became a recurring sticky note on the fridge.

“STOP BUYING SHITTY CEREAL,” Jinx wrote back, underlining shitty three times.

You labeled your food with threats like a deranged librarian. She responded by using your fancy almond milk to water your plants.

“You poisoned my fern!”

“She was a bitch anyway.”

One particularly tense morning, you found all your movie posters defaced with crudely drawn mustaches. Jinx’s crime was marked by the signature blue Sharpie and the fact that she cackled for ten minutes straight when you discovered it.

You retaliated by unplugging her gaming setup mid-boss-fight.

The scream could probably still be heard echoing down the hall.

She logged into your shared Spotify account and replaced your sad indie playlist with Yodeling Kid remixes.

You bought a life-size cardboard cutout of some D-list actor she hated and propped it up in the hallway.

She put googly eyes on it and called it her new roommate.

It was a cold, petty war. Very stupid, but livable.

Until the blizzard hit.

It came out of nowhere. No gentle snowfall or cinematic build-up—just a sudden, blinding white wall outside the windows, like karma finally cashed in all its receipts. Within the hour, the entire city went quiet, like someone had unplugged the world.

And then came the outage—lights gone, Wi-Fi dead. The fridge stuttered to a halt with a shudder, and everything fell into a hush thick enough to taste.

You were in the kitchen, standing over a sad bowl of reheated soup—portion for one—trying to stir some kind of comfort into it. The only light came from your phone’s flashlight, its narrow beams cutting through the room like a lighthouse in a sea of passive-aggressive clutter.

Jinx emerged from her room like a startled raccoon, squinting at the sudden dark. She blinked blearily, purple hoodie half-zipped, screwdriver still tucked behind one ear, and a half-disassembled drone clutched to her chest like a wounded animal.

“Hey,” she muttered, “did you pay the—?”

“It’s the storm,” you said, not even bothering to look at her as you angled the flashlight toward the stove. Your tone was flat and practiced. The tone of someone who had once shared a bed with her and now shared nothing but bills.

She paused. Processed.

“Cool,” she said flatly. “I love the apocalypse.”

“You would.”

There was a beat of silence. Then she scratched her neck, the way she always did when she was about to say something either vaguely important or incredibly stupid.

“So, uh,” she began, rocking back on her heels, “the heater’s dead, too.”

You turned your head slowly, deadpan. “What.”

“It was making this noise like eeeeeeeeeeeck—” She flailed one arm vaguely, mimicking an engine dying mid-scream. “Then nothing.”

You stared at her. “I told you we should’ve bled the radiator last week. It was already wheezing like a dying Victorian child, gasping out its final confession.”

Jinx just shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, well. He died doing what he loved. Making terrible sounds and being a nuisance,” she shot back like a stubborn teenager before realization hit. “Wait—were you just speaking to me like we’re still on speaking terms?”

“No, I was speaking to the other emotionally stunted idiot I share rent with.” You rolled your eyes, but your jaw tightened.

She blinked at you for a long second, eyes catching the flashlight. “Must be a crowd in here, then,” she finally muttered under her breath.

The tension had been simmering all evening—quiet, sharp, inevitable. You and Jinx stood in the darkened apartment like two ghosts who hadn’t figured out how to leave the place where they died. Wrapped in too-thin hoodies and thicker layers of resentment, you both waited for the other to break first.

“We could light candles,” you offered eventually, voice clipped, arms folded across your chest like armor.

Her head turned slowly, eyes glinting. “You mean my candles? The ones you took from our room after the breakup?”

You scoffed. “You don’t even like vanilla sugar cookie.”

“I like spite,” she snapped back. Then, of course, she went and fetched them anyway. She lit each one like she was performing a ritual—striking matches with far too much intensity, her face flickering in the flame’s glow like she was summoning a demon instead of basic warmth. You watched her set the candles down on the windowsill, the kitchen counter, and the old coffee table stained with memories.

The room was suddenly full of soft light and the scent of synthetic sweetness. It clung to the air like nostalgia—unwelcome and too familiar.

You pulled on another hoodie and cocooned yourself in a blanket from the couch. Lukewarm soup in hand, you sat cross-legged in the living room, the spoon tapping gently against the ceramic bowl like a nervous tic. Jinx paced behind you like she couldn’t stand still for too long without combusting.

“Bedroom’s warmer,” she finally muttered, not looking at you.

You raised an eyebrow without lifting your gaze, watching the soup swirl in your bowl like it held some kind of moral high ground. “Because you hoard all the blankets.”

“It’s called survival instincts,” she replied, leaning one hip against the doorframe. “Sorry you weren’t born with any.”

“I was too busy being born with emotional maturity.”

“Boring,” she tossed over her shoulder and turned on her heel, feet thumping softly against the floorboards.

But she left the bedroom door open.

You stared at it for a while. At the golden light pooling in the hallway. At the shape of her shadow disappearing inside. At the crack in your own will widening with every second.

Eventually, logic won.

Or loneliness did. Hard to say.

Ten minutes later, you stood in the doorway like a reluctant truce offering with crossed arms and toes curling into the icy floor through your fuzzy socks.

“You’re hogging the whole bed,” you said, trying for annoyance and landing somewhere closer to exhaustion.

“You weren’t in it,” she replied from somewhere under the blanket, her voice muffled.

“You left one pillow.”

“I am one pillow.”

“Gross.”

“True.”

You climbed in anyway.

The mattress creaked beneath you like it remembered things you didn’t want to. The blanket was warm in the places she’d already been, cold everywhere else. She didn’t move to make room, and you didn’t ask. Just shifted into the empty space beside her with the kind of caution reserved for old battlefields.

The silence between you was immediate and loud, only broken by the wind hurling itself against the windows like it had a vendetta. You lay stiff and awkward, the air filled with unsaid things and the scent of faint shampoo and stubborn memories.

“I’m still mad at you,” Jinx muttered into her side of the bed, her voice muffled and sullen, breath fogging faintly in the frigid air.

You didn’t bother turning around. “Then don’t cuddle me.”

“I’m not cuddling you,” she huffed defensively, indignation wrapped in shivers.

After a muttered argument and one poorly constructed pillow wall that collapsed under the weight of pettiness and shared body heat the moment you moved, the two of you ended up back-to-back, pressed together beneath the blanket like awkward divorcees forced to share a hotel bed at a family reunion. Two ex-girlfriends, one blizzard, zero dignity. But a whole lot of silence, tension, and regret.

Then, softly—reluctantly—she mumbled, “…Move closer, dumbass. I’m freezing.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it could’ve powered a generator. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, but you scooted back, just a little. She moved, too, slowly, like she wasn’t totally desperate for warmth. Or the smell of your hoodie. Or the shape of you.

Her toes bumped your calf, and you flinched. “Your feet are ice,” you hissed.

“You’ve got the warm ones. Share, frost witch.”

You kicked at her half-heartedly, but she just tangled her legs into yours like it was nothing. You both squirmed, adjusting awkwardly—arms crossing, knees knocking, elbows bumping into ribs—until you landed in a mess of limbs that felt more like a habit.

Jinx’s nose brushed against your shoulder—accidentally, on purpose—and neither of you mentioned it.

A long pause settled over the room. The kind of silence that comes after too many almosts and not enough apologies.

“…Are you still mad at me?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, like the question had snuck out before she could stop it.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment, then exhaled. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words leaving your mouth half-formed, like they didn’t want to exist outside of your chest.

Silence settled again. Not cold, but careful.

“I saw you crying during Finding Nemo last week,” she blurted out, trying—and failing—to keep the amusement out of her voice.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glare half-heartedly. “That movie is devastating. He literally loses his son.”

She grinned in the dark. “Yeah, but I was emotionally dead inside before the stingray scene.”

You let out a short, reluctant laugh—sharp at the edges, but real. “You’re the worst.”

“You love it.”

“I did.”

The air shifted.

Not just the temperature, but the weight of everything unsaid, and you could’ve sworn you felt the mattress dip with the gravity of it.

“…So. Past tense,” she said quietly.

You shifted beneath the blanket, fabric brushing against her leg. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Her voice was too innocent.

“Make it sound like I’m the villain in your sad indie song,” you murmured.

Jinx blinked. “I would never.” Then, she smiled. Softly, almost fond. “Your vibe is more… tragic lesbian who dies in Act III.”

That earned another huff of laughter from you, but quieter this time. Sadder.

You turned to face her—just barely—and your noses nearly touched. Her breath was warm against your mouth. You didn’t move, and neither did she. The space between you was almost nothing, but still everything.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other in the half-dark. Breathing the same cold air, wearing the same old ache, still pretending the word love wasn’t curling in both your throats like smoke.

Her eyes fluttered. You could see her trying to stay present, to stay with you. But every few seconds, her gaze would soften, blur a little, until she blinked hard again and refocused on you—like your face was something she didn’t want to lose track of.

Your chest rose, and so did hers. In time.

It was around 3:00 a.m., though neither of you knew it. Because Jinx was curled against you like she forgot you broke up and lost the right to touch, and you didn’t remind her.

Maybe neither of you cared.

You fit together the way people who’ve fought and fucked and forgiven each other a hundred times always do—like old puzzle pieces with frayed edges, soft from use.

You weren’t really awake, but not quite asleep either—somewhere in the middle, suspended in that liminal space where your body acts before your brain does.

So when you stirred beside her—shuffling closer, sighing softly into the crook of her neck—it felt natural to respond. Familiar, like muscle memory. Her arm curled instinctively, draping over your waist like it used to.

You didn’t flinch. Simply exhaled, deep and steady, while your nose brushed against her collarbone in the dark. A second later, your lips followed, grazing soft skin—too lightly to be deliberate, too precisely to be random.

“You still grind your teeth when you’re about to fall asleep,” Jinx mumbled suddenly, her voice low and heavy, half-buried in the pillow between you.

You smiled into the dark—one of those worn-in smiles that surfaces from memory before thought. You didn’t mean to. It just happened, the way muscle remembers softness even after months of tension.

She exhaled, her breath warm against your temple, slow and even like the rhythm of a tide she couldn’t resist. Her lips brushed skin—not purposefully, not quite. But close enough to blur the line.

It wasn’t a kiss.

But it wasn’t not a kiss.

More like an echo.

A ghost of the old days, when goodnights always came with kisses and mornings meant shared coffee—too sweet, made one-handed while you still wore your blanket like a cape—and legs entangled in sleepy domestic knots.

An entire life lived in tiny routines.

You shifted slightly, voice drowsy as you murmured, “You’re breathing on me.”

“Can’t help it,” she mumbled, her words slurred with sleep. “You’re warm.”

“You’re dreaming.”

“Probably,” she hummed in response, a quiet, contented sound. The words melted into the quiet like honey in tea.

You moved again, slowly, thoughtlessly—half-lost to sleep yourself. Your nose brushed the curve of her cheek, skin to skin in the dark. “You’re soft.”

Jinx didn’t respond to that.

Because what could she say?

That she knew?

That she’s only ever soft with you?

That the word soft coming from your mouth made her want to cry in a way nothing else ever did?

That she missed being called that more than she’d miss breathing?

So, she said nothing.

She just leaned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead—so light it could’ve been imagined, so instinctive it didn’t feel like a choice at all.

Not even thinking.

Just moving. Reacting. Remembering.

“I still set the kettle out for you,” you whispered suddenly, voice barely audible in the dark.

She stirred beside you. “What?”

“Every morning. I don’t know why.”

She went quiet for a long moment. The kind of quiet that meant she was holding something between her teeth, turning it over.

“I still charge your phone when you forget.”

You blinked, eyes stinging suddenly, inexplicably. The quiet pressed in around you again, heavy with all the things you hadn’t said.

“…We’re so dumb,” you said, almost laughing. It came out cracked.

“The dumbest.”

Another silence, but not empty.

Never empty.

Then she shifted, just slightly, like her whole body braced for impact before the words even left her mouth. “You know,” she said, quiet and careful, “I didn’t stop loving you. I just got tired of trying to become someone you could stay with.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t respond right away. Not because you didn’t have words, but because none of them felt like enough—not for this, not for her, and not after everything.

But slowly, tentatively, your hand found hers under the blanket. The touch was gentle, almost shy. Yet when your fingers slid into hers, they fit the same way they always had. Like nothing had changed. Like everything had. Like love learned how to hold on even when you tried to let go.

Your thumb brushed over her knuckle once. “You were always someone I wanted to stay with,” you whispered. “I just didn’t know how to stay with you and not lose pieces of myself in the process.”

Jinx’s grip tightened, just a little. Just enough. “I would’ve given you space,” she murmured.

“You didn’t know how,” you said, not unkindly, just true.

“I do now.”

Silence again.

Then, slowly, she tilted her head. Her mouth brushed the edge of your jaw—featherlight, slow, like she wasn’t sure she had permission. Like she was trying not to wake you. Like the memory of loving you was still rooted in her muscle memory, twitching to life in the dark.

And you let her. Turned into it, just slightly, because you were too tired to pretend you didn’t miss the way her lips used to know exactly where to land.

You met halfway.

The kiss was nothing like the ones you used to share. No urgency, no hunger, and no frantic pulling at clothes or gasps between apologies.

It was soft and short and not entirely awake—it happened so gently, so sleepily, you didn’t even realize you were kissing until it was already over.

Just a peck. The kind people don’t mean to give—like a sigh, or a yawn, or reaching for the light switch in a room you haven’t lived in for months but still remember.

Like coming home for three seconds in the middle of a snowstorm.

And then, without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose. Barely a whisper of contact. Just enough for her to breathe in sharply, like even now, even half-asleep, your affection still caught her off guard.

Then a third one—this one landing a little off-center, a little clumsy, brushing messily across the corner of her mouth.

A hello.

I remember you.

This still lives here.

Jinx made a small, involuntary sound—something between a sigh and a whimper—low and soft against your lips, like her body remembered you before her mind could. Your noses bumped lazily, and you smiled into it like it hurt.

When you finally paused for air, foreheads pressed together, you whispered, “This doesn’t mean anything… right?”

She nodded against you. “Right. Just… survival. Warmth.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, breath puffing against her lips. “Like penguins.”

She cracked a smile. “Exactly.”

“So if I kiss you again—”

“It’s so I don’t freeze to death,” she finished for you.

“Obviously.”

Another kiss.

This one lingered—longer than the last, warmer, steadier. There was a quiet kind of certainty in it.

“Penguins mate for life,” you whispered against her lips, the words soft and teasing, but not without weight. Like you tried to make it a joke so you didn’t have to admit it sounded like a promise.

Jinx blinked, caught mid-breath.

“…Shit.”

You laughed, breathless, and buried your face in her neck again, smelling her body wash and deciding not to comment on the fact that it smelled suspiciously close to yours.

Her arms slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Sleep,” she murmured, voice raspy with exhaustion and something far too tender. “Before we say something even dumber.”

“Too late,” you mumbled back, the words muffled against her collarbone.

You fell quiet again, tangled up in heat and history and every part of you that never quite let go, her thumb tracing something lazy into your spine.

“We’re a mess,” she whispered.

“Always have been.”

“Still want toast in the morning?”

You smiled, eyelids heavy now, the weight of the moment pressing down like warmth. “Yeah.”

Jinx’s grin was lazy and crooked, her voice slurring at the edges of sleep. “I’ll burn it just how you like.”

Outside, the storm continued.

Inside, two idiots kept forgetting they ever broke up, suddenly remembering how to be soft again.

And maybe the heater would come back.

And maybe you’d go back to hating each other in the morning.

But the body doesn’t lie the way the mouth does.

Because love doesn’t vanish—not really.

Sometimes it just moves into the living room and leaves sarcastic sticky notes.

yippeee i haven’t forgotten how to write softness!!

[aviiarie]

♡ — GENSHIN GIRLS AS CHAPPELL ROAN SONGS !

cws & notes. no warnings. various genshin girls x fem!reader. 750+ words. they're all sapphic in my heart. if you like this you might enjoy my good luck babe! inspired furina fic :D

— FURINA · good luck babe!

she can't call it love. the word is on the edge of her lips, lingering on her tongue, but she never speaks it out loud. she just wants to keep things the way they are, keep you close to her without that word hanging over her head. it's nothing serious, so why bother to call it anything at all? she'll ignore the way her heart flutters and her head spins as long as it takes to keep you by her side.

but it isn't enough, is it? because you leave anyway, and she is left with the shadow of your figure chasing the corners of her memory for the rest of her life. in the years to come, she will forget your favourite colour and the way your lips tasted, but she'll always be haunted by the echo of your voice sounding in her head: 'i told you so.'

— CHIORI · red wine supernova

falling in love with you is like falling into a supernova. she was never too interested in pursuing love on her own, but with you, she just seemed to fall into it so easily. it was like you were a star, burning brighter and hotter than the sun, filling her days and nights with light. when she kisses you, she can almost feel fire spark against her lips, like your touch is enough to ignite. it's almost overwhelming, the amount of emotions that brew so quickly, but that doesn't chase away the thrill.

there's something that's so bright about you it's almost blinding. your smile sends her heart beating a mile a minute, your words make her brain fry. no one else has ever made her feel so much that it almost scares her. but if this was love then she would gladly let herself fall for you.

— NAVIA · casual

hearing you call it 'casual' kills her. she smiles and laughs it off, like it's all light-hearted, pretending you're just teasing. it's easy to pretend, to close her eyes and picture the two of you moving into the same apartment, dancing in the kitchen like a couple in a cheesy romcom. it hurts, every time you remind her not to get attached. can't you see she already has, already is? can't you see the adoration in her eyes? can't you see how much she is in love with you? nothing about you is casual, but she bit her tongue until it bled and held back her tears.

she's sick of it. after all the nights of tears she shed, after everything you've been through together, if you won't call it what it was, then she would. she doesn't care what your friends say, anything is better than calling it casual. she's done with letting herself be stifled, letting her love be wasted. she's sick of hating herself. call it casual all you want, she knows the truth and she'll make sure everyone else does too.

— YELAN · super graphic ultra modern girl

she can't deal with another cheap date with a man who doesn't care about her. what she needs someone refreshing, someone fun. she needs a girl who is as dazzling and exciting as she is, someone who can keep her on her feet and send her heart racing. no more wasting perfectly good friday nights on guys who didn't have a single interesting bone in their body, she's after something new.

and that's you. you, who arrived in her life like a firework and continued to crackle and spark ever since. she's transfixed by you, the way you move, the way you speak, the way you laugh. every part of you is mesmerizing, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away.

— KOKOMI · kaleidoscope

it's impossible to describe what you meant to her. there weren't enough words in the dictionary to explain how she felt, not enough colours in the rainbow to paint every shade of love that filtered through her vision when she looked at you. and yet now she was left with a painful monochrome, missing the one person she loved more than anything else in the world.

she's not going to make you stay. she cares about you too much for that. and she'll never fault you is you end up falling in love with someone who isn't her, but part of her does break every time she thinks of it. she doesn't know how love works, it's a mystery to the both of you. but she knows she loves you, and that has to count for something.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[imahgined]

the rosy blog project - episode 2:

꒰ঌ pt. 2 on how we made 2024 actually feel like 2014 ໒꒱

hey there, honeybear! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

i loved doing this series so much, i literally couldn't end the year without writing even more ways our beloved rosy blog era got its way into 2024. you can check out part one here!

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. my take on how we made 2024 really feel like 2014, part 2

| section 2: movies, trends, and nostalgia

ig dumps feeling like the og instagram posting style: omg, literally all i see on ig nowadays are people's photo dumps in so many different ways. this feels so much like the carefree vibe we had for posting when we first opened our ig accounts. i love the way it is slowly turning into a more relaxed and casual app.

reading and bookstagram came BACK: even though this has always been around, 2024 really brought back reading as an it girl hobby, like it was back in 2014. i feel like booktok blew up—there's a creator for every type of genre and style! i have been watching recommendations nonstop and started buying so many books, secondhand or new, to fill my shelves.

book-to-movie/tv show adaptations: also, there were so many book adaptations coming to the cinema, from it ends with us to uglies and the idea of you. i love that we're going to the movies again, dressing up, and being excited to see our favorite stories on screen. last year, we had the ballad of songbirds and snakes in theaters, that was the IT comeback from 2013 in 2023. we also had a teen wolf movie??? that is actually my fav show ever.

the sofia coppola obsession: there is literally nothing better than watching a sofia coppola movie. in 2024, i saw people all over pinterest and tiktok acclaiming her (which is absolutely necessary). and can we talk about the bling ring? it's THE most 2013-2014 movie i've seen. the story is crazy—i was so invested in it, i kept reading about it weeks after i saw the movie! also, not related to coppola, but i would recommend watching spring breakers if you like the 2010s look and feel in movies. it's not much of a good story, but i promise the visuals are insaneee.

actual romcoms slowly becoming a thing again: we had movies this year like we live in time, one day, and turtles all the way down (a john green novel adaptation, so 2014!). i think the industry is trying to bring back those romantic movies we girlies love so much. last year, we even had anyone but you, which became really popular!

substack being the go-to platform for bloggers: this is actually SO cool. everyone these days is writing articles, reflections and overall just sharing their thoughts on substack. this is such a cool way to bring back the blogger era from the 2010s in a modern way. let me know what you like to read on the app! i personally love twirl magazine by @i-miss-2013, go check her out!

girly content trending everywhere: this year, it felt like everyone was posting aesthetic cute vlogs, pink hauls, girly fashion, and beauty tips! i'm SO here for that. i feel like girls are becoming more confident and comfortable embracing their femininity on social media, and i love that for us. so much like the rosy blog days!

quizzes on tiktok: i don't know about you guys, but i LOVED taking quizzes on books, magazines or even buzzfeed back in the day. this year, i saw so many tiktoks with these type of relaxing and cutesy tests, but in a more much visual way, with themes such as "plan your dream wedding" or "plan your dream vacation". this is so 2014 girly magazine coded—i loved it when these popped on my feed!

source: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMkSuhfyN/

"challenges" on social media: this is what i mean when i say that social media is getting back on track with actually being fun and giving us a good laugh! we had such funny "challenges" like the hear me out cake trend, the we listen but we don't judge videos, and even the pretending our DOG got into harvard for no reason trend. ugh, i loved these so much—they were giving the same feel as the challenges we did back in the day in 2014 on social media.

i hope you liked the second post from the series! part 3 will be up tomorrow as my closing for 2024  ೀ hope you're having the lovelist day/night, sending you warm wishes! xx

[davekat-sucks]

Oh come on anon. Karkat was emotionally unable to project his love in a healthy way without confusing Terezi. I would really attribute all the plot holes to poor writing that ruined what could have been an amazing character.

Yeah, and what did that achieve? Commander Fagkat Guevantas, champion of the incels and posterboy for Betty Crocker's Bad Dragon.

I used to give his writing/plot holes regarding his role in the story that same benefit of the doubt for a long time too. But honestly? I’m completely out of empathy at this point, especially when I see that none of that same good faith is ever extended to the characters I cared about, who never did anything nearly as harmful or damaging as Karkat always did. Yes this is mainly about Jade and John.

So now I just freely admit that I always thought his character was dogshit. How the fuck are you gonna write the second coming of Christ, and then make him say that fish hitler was right, that he loves using his teammates as meatshields and also make him so useless he let his love interest be abused, because he was too busy wasting his time watching shitty romcoms, and ALSO play all of that straight, framing him in the right.

He's so shitty, I unironically think Meat!Karkat choose the sex scenes where his friends get raped as the thing he liked the best in the candy timeline is in character for what he became in Act 6.

To be fair Che Vantas It could have been really cool if it weren't for the fact that, I repeat, they turn it into a parody of itself. He's supposed to be 30 years old, but he still acts like a pubescent boy?

Sure, but the problem is that the writers idolize Guevara, which is already a gigantic red flag as that's extremely fucked up and ignorant of them, and genuinely think Karkat is in the right and is mature. So the parody was never going to happen, look what happened to Meenah being a parody of Hitler. They woobified her simply because they think she's hot girlboss and like her, same shit with Vriska.

The best they're going to do is maybe make Meat!Karkat call Candykat an asshole for the obligatory "haha karkat hates himself" joke that is so played out, it's not going to be funny anymore. So sadly all we can do is make fun of his incel ass here.

I'd never trust someone who idolizes Karl Marx either. James Roach and HICU are deep into that modern communism and socialism belief. People who had accused Eridan being an incel should apologize when Karkat was right there. Fuck it, Cronus may now have room for empathy despite acting similarly worse. Like Cronus did have belief in magic and hope, but whether it be Kurloz or Kankri that done this, it causes him to lose faith to spiral down into what he became. Does not help that it is also KANKRI that enables his bad behavior.

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

No Magic AU's!

This week, we've got nine (nein) fics that explore what the wizards would be like without magic. Answer: racecar drivers, teachers, lab mates, and rock climbers - but also pretty much the same. Check the fics out beneath the cut, and as always - comment and kudos if you like them!

when the lights go out by 06151126 (27309, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: self distructive behavior

Essek Thelyss is back on the grid after a few years away from racing. Caleb Widogast is on the run from his past, he finds a place to settle down as a mechanic at Brenatto's Garage. When Essek visits the garage in the middle of the F1 summer break, Caleb's past collides with his present in an unprecedented way.

Reccer says: Something I would have never thought of but incredibly gripping and suits them well

all this science i don't understand by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (8858, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Small-town high school science teacher Caleb Widogast has his life more or less figured out, or so he thinks. Then an unexpected variable gets thrown into the equation in the form of the new addition to the teaching staff: the handsome and clever Essek Thelyss.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Sleep, With Benifits by KmacKatie (62272, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Shadowgast romcom where they both fail at communication. they get there in the end

Reccer says: it's very sweet, they're both in love with each other and it's obvious to everyone but them

Unexpected Thrills by nox_nocturnal (5082, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb gives Essek a ride on his motorcycle and they're both pining professors.

Reccer says: Extremely vivid descriptions and amazing pining

Resonance Broadening by toneofjoy (51665, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Shadowgast as labmates, enimes to lovers.

Reccer says: I liked it!

gloamings end by toneofjoy (60183, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

climbing AU where Bren and Essek are competitors, but get along really well despite Essek's best efforts

Reccer says: an interesting exploration of Essek's attraction with him still being very much ace. also, I have learned so much about climbing

The Kitchen Sink by mousecookie (17126, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Modern AU where Essek is a supermodel, Caleb does odd jobs, and they keep running into each other and finding ways they are connected

Reccer says: It's funny!

no place to go (let it snow!) by Dragonslaeyr (20586, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

It's the busiest travel time of the year, but Caleb Widogast can't find anyone at Uthodurn International Airport to buy his spare ticket to Rexxentrum. Maybe it's because it's the Day of Heart and Hearth, the flight is already delayed by twelve hours, and the extra seat is under the name ‘Frumpkin.’ ...Or maybe it's because he only wants one person to make the trip with him, but Essek Thelyss is bound for an entirely different destination.

Reccer says: An amazing, cozy and romantic holiday movie of a fic

primogeniture by quanshi (burningdarkfire) (2850, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Trent Ikithon controls the largest media and entertainment company in the world. His three adopted children are making plans for the future. Essek wants in.

Reccer says: A succession AU, hot and doomed to heartbreak but very, very tasty

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with Older Favorites!

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Really random and sorry if you've answered this before, but would you mind shouting out some of your favourite books? I get the impression our reading tastes would allign, and my tbr shelf needs some new additions, lol.

I'm the wrong person to ask. I used to be a big reader but I haven't been able to read anything in ages and it's been well over a year since I've read a book, sadly.

I do love a good celeb memoir or biography for easy reading! Some that come to mind are Michelle Zauner's Crying in H Mart (excellent if sad), Jennette McCurdy's I'm Glad My Mom Died (prev), Britney Spears' The Woman in Me, Tina Fey's Bossypants, Mindy Kaling's Is Everybody Hanging Out Without Me, Anna Kendrick's Scrappy Little Nobody, Jessica Simpson's Open Book, etc. (I realize they're heavy on the 90s/early 2000s women in tv and music stars haha.)

ETA: in the same vein, Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, Barack Obama's Dreams of my Father, Michelle Obama's Becoming, Lauren Graham's Talking as Fast as I Can, Tara Westover's Educated, Deborah Feldman's Unorthodox, Brooke Shields' There Was a Little Girl, Carolyn Jessop's Escape.

I'm trying to think of fiction I've read in recent years that has stuck with me but the only ones that come to mind are The Vacationers and Modern Lovers by Emma Straub. I tried to read Emily Henry's Happy Place last year and I just could not get into it at all. (I'm not much of a romcom person.) Also I know this makes me cringe online but I enjoyed Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins-Reid even though it's basically Fleetwood Mac fanfic 🤷🏻‍♀️ Also enjoyed Kevin Kwan's Crazy Rich Asians series.

One of my favourite books of all time is Atonement by Ian McEwan.

Sorry I'm not much help! I have too much brain rot these days.

[acheronist]

I am reading The Goldfinch. I'm where he just started hanging out at the furniture/antiques place regularly. It's written well, it's holding my inerest, but I don't yet see what all the fuss is about. So not as a criticism but in an effort to appreciate something I might be missing, why is it a book you love?

well.

donna tartt is one of my favorite authors anyways. I think she's a spectacular freak and her storytelling skills are exceptionally good and i've read as much of her work as i can possibly get my little hands on!

but for tgf specifically, the narrative being soooo so so centered on personal emphasis & meaning being bestowed upon specific artworks despite them being very unpersonal objects (after they get out of the artist's hands, that is,) in stark comparison to the way that art that can belong to/be seen/be consumed any random fucking person alive in the modern age has been the only existential buoy in my life for a very very very long time. in my lowest times, instead of killing myself i go stand in art museums and think about how much love and creativity is innate in humanity despite times of crisis and war and disease and all of the fucking agonies and everything going wrong and having no control over it. ha ha. it's always been a balm to me, to remember that there is goodness and love preserved in artwork, and that artwork is tougher and longer-lasting than you'd initially think, and that it's always there waiting for me to come back to it and see it in a different emotional state to find new meanings in it. this is the same as how theo thinks about the painting thru different times in his life!! going from needing it desperately as a connection to his mom, obsessively as a comfort, and then reviling it for being a representation of his life's biggest trauma and yet still tending to it and caring for it, to the heartache of losing it and the relief of retrieving it with the one person who genuinely loves him as an act of devotion and apology for a previous betrayal....all while navigating how systems in power are neglectful and uncaring and capitalistic. it's all just So Much To Me.....

and I know the middle chapters where theo just goes on and on about the intricacies of antique forgery aren't as fun and sexy as the vegas chapters with boris (underage drug abuse and gay sex WHEEEEEE) OR the actual criminal chapters at the end (mysterious borderline-noir criminal heist slash subtextual romcom), but they're soooo so poignant to me. because in my own little life, curating the art and music around me and finding beauty and importance and symbolism in these subtle things is a vital central axis that i need to have, much like i need a nice bed or a good meal or a glass of clean water. much of how i cope and navigate the world is very deeply focused around art & art analysis, and I think the only other book i've read that articulated that sort of feeling quite as eloquently would be john berger's way of seeing, which is an academic and analytical text. but i just love fiction so much, so to have tgf as the extremely emotional fiction option to go along w my nonfiction art thesis books that are tonally very prim and objective and well organized..... DELICIOUS. i love it. and i love a fictive narrative built upon tragedy. i love works that call back to each other in conversation, and stories that cannot exist without the foundation of Something Else Existing A Millennia Prior. i love comparing works and establishing what makes them similar or different but how they approach the same themes. and i love to see characters (THEO. boris. pippa. hobie. andy.) that i can identify with who struggle with similiar problems i have, because it makes it easier for me to get thru my own life. this isn't groundbreaking reasoning though, that's just how every human alive consumes art and content. of course we look for ourselves in fiction. of course we as individuals want to find things that we relate to.

and also in a purely self-indulgence way, I also looooooove it when media is unbearably long and i can get completely entranced and study it closely and always be able to find new details that throw the whole story into a completely new light, which I think tgf does very well because it's almost 900 pages LMAO. every time i reread it there's a new nuanced angle for me to think about actions and thoughts leading into consequences and i just eat that up every single time.......

but despite all of this i do recognize that tgf is not everyone's cup of tea. like it's genuinely one of the most meaningful texts in my heart but i completely understand how it can be long, and boring, and melodramatic, and a bit insane, and convoluted, and pompous, and not worth the time to get from cover to cover.

but it is worth the time. to me.

[garyalanhidalgo]

OG Pride Was Literally a Riot: Stonewall Inn, Resistance, & Our LGBTQ+ Sanctuaries

Kamusta, my fabulous friends, and HAPPY PRIDE MONTH! 🏳️‍🌈🎉✨

June is HERE! To celebrate, I’m posting on a hopefully laid-back Sunday instead of just another Manic Monday as usual (our new schedule). Can you believe today is June 1? There’s a definite glitter shimmering in the air, anthems proudly playing, and best of all, the marvellous buzz of community, celebration, and yes, righteous defiance (only a healthy dose). From my experiences of Prides past, it’s what makes this time of year so spectacularly inspiring.

Last month, I rolled out the relaunches of the refreshed GaryAlanHidalgo.com and my romcom novel  The Hotel Cairo (out now, btw) by dishing on everything from soaps to ageism to the radical act of love and laughter. We also received an introduction to the importance of queer sanctuaries. Without such places, the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement would have been a whole different story, a sadder one. As we welcome Pride Month worldwide this June, we have to start at a gay bar on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village, New York City: The Stonewall Inn.

Before the Rainbows, There Was Resistance

Before the rainbow flags, the loud and proud parades, and the legalization of same-sex marriage equality (which has Stonewall to thank too), we can’t forget that the first Pride was a riot. The Stonewall Inn (popularly known as Stonewall) had a whole other life before four mafiosos linked with the Genovese crime family reopened it as a gay bar in early 1967. Despite bribes from the owners, it couldn’t secure a liquor license and therefore operated as a private club. As it became a popular hangout with young gay men and other queer characters, outsiders found more and more reason to harass it. It all came to a head in late June 1969 after one such unwarranted invasion. 

Per The Stonewall Inn website, “...one steamy summer night in 1969…” in NYC during an era when being out was illegal, Stonewall Inn was so reviled by polite society and the authorities that the Mafia ran it since no legitimate business owners would dare. Nevertheless, queer folks embraced it. It was one of the few places they could meet with some freedom. That didn’t mean this sanctuary was left in peace. Far from it, police raids were frequent and often violent. Every visit was intended to shame and terrorize its queer patrons during and even after they “visited.” The harassment didn’t stop with being arrested, customer names were also published in newspapers, so they’d lose their jobs, ruin their reputations, and ultimately, destroy their lives.

By that fateful night of June 28 when the riots began, Stonewall’s LGBTQ+ patrons, including gay men, butch lesbians, street kids, drag queens, trans women of color had enough not just of the police raiding one more time but ALL OF IT! Instead of fleeing law enforcement like usual, this time, these marginalized of the marginalized, fought back. The streets around the inn erupted in protests while they clashed with cops. In no way was it planned. It was rage built up over long-term bullying that finally spilled out. More importantly, it was a demand that queer people be allowed to gather in peace, be left with their dignity, to simply exist without fear. And LGBTQ+ folk are ever-resilient. The Stonewall riots lasted for six days from June 28 to July 3, 1969.

No matter what its customers personally thought about Stonewall Inn, it was a queer sanctuary: their sanctuary. No wonder they defended it with their lives, which is what the Stonewall rioters surely thought was at risk. But it was more than defending the building but shouting “NO MORE!” to being treated as less than human. Hopefully, you can likewise appreciate that bigger picture as we celebrate Pride Month again, not just at 53 Christopher Street, Greenwich Village, Manhattan, New York City, USA, but fifty-six years later, on a global scale. That first proud “NO MORE!” that steamy, Saturday night was the spark that ignited the flame of the modern queer rights movement long before today’s pageantry and anthems. 

Sanctuaries Then & Now: From Stonewall to The Hotel Cairo to Fantabulous!

There’s no better proof our community needs its sanctuaries than Stonewall. Places where we can be our authentic selves without judgement and safely are a thread that runs throughout LGBTQ+ history. It’s also a theme I love exploring in my fiction, whether it’s The Hotel Cairo where the new hotel manager, Fabian Flores, wants to sell his passionate “Love is Welcome Here” initiative to anti-love co-owner, Hughie Roman or the upcoming new mystery series, Fantabulous! itself set in a 90s gay bar. Both represent very different queer sanctuaries likewise invaded by uncaring, ignorant forces that end in protest and unfortunately, violence. Nevertheless, both were built out of the desire for a space where love, in all its forms, can breathe freely. Spoilers ahead! Nuff said!

“Let the lovers go.” Mayor Blair stuffed bills leisurely in Hughie’s underwear, then Hunky Hector’s. “They may not be into public displays of affection, but have become rather horny thanks to you, gentlemen. Better they get a room soon. God knows there are plenty of vacancies at the Hotel Cairo.” “The Hotel Cairo is doing just fine,” Hughie said. “Fabian has big plans for its future.” “I apologize for running off at the mouth.” He laughed. “You must be very invested in your hotel. Among other things.” Fabian had overheard Hughie defend him to the mayor. Before he could thank him, James pulled him to the middle of the dance floor as a slow couples-only eighties song took over. “It’s Careless Whisper, one of my all-time favorites,” James said. “We probably won’t get to dance to this until our wedding.” “Wedding?” Fabian felt his bladder loosen. “You’re pale as a ghost. I didn’t intend to frighten you. I meant we’re the grown-ups. When will we get the chance to dance again? At least in public.” “I need to tell you something.” It was time to own up to kissing not just another man but Hughie. Things were already moving too quickly for him to postpone. James was already planning the first dance at their wedding. If the truth meant being dumped again, then Fabian deserved to be hurt. “I-I …” “You?” James held him tighter as they swayed to George Michael’s wounded voice. “I love you,” he said matter-of-factly as he watched Hughie and Barry disappear into the office. “He loves me,” James shouted at his out-of-the-blue declaration. “Everyone, Fabian Flores said he loves me.” Everyone inside the Casablanca clapped and cheered. Deep down, Fabian always knew they had no future.

I cheated! While this scene is in The Hotel Cairo, it does not take place at the Hotel Cairo but the Casablanca, an alleged gay bar in the same conservative town and state of the titular queer sanctuary-to-be. As one protesting resident compared ominously:

“His uncle lies with man too,” the Hell woman piously growled. “The Hotel Cairo is Sodom, and the Casablanca is Gomorrah. Our town will suffer rape, cultic prostitution, male prostitution, and pederasty.”

With such pious growling in their ears daily, the local queer community need more than one safe space to gather their thoughts and feel safe with their chosen family. The characters in both The Hotel Cairo (navigating the post-2015 marriage equality and gay divorcee world) and Fantabulous! (confronting a 90s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and Matthew Shepard reality) mirror a quieter, everday type of resistance as well. Like you, they’re simply living their truths, seek connection, choose their families, and find love and laughter in a world that denies us what everyone else takes for granted. Thanks to our courage, we build communal and personal sanctuaries we fight to protect.

Pride is Still About That Fight

I first heard about Pride in the late-90s. It certainly was a must-attend celebration in West Hollywood where streets were closed for the main parade (Santa Monica Blvd. bye bye) as well as other epic events that were equally educational and strictly entertainment. I knew it was about being proud of who I was (finally!) and for the LGBTQ+ community as a whole. However, I didn’t know about Stonewall, which was the name of a lesbian bar where a friend took me to play pool. Not THE Stonewall. While twenty-something me enjoyed being in a safe place rather than feel out of place as in my conservative hometown, I was too caught up in the newness of the experience to care about the hard-won freedoms we enjoyed even then. I’m sorry I didn’t investigate how Pride came to be or the name that inspired the bar. 

This Pride Month 2025, let’s remember the courage of those marginalized of the marginalized who shouted that first “NO More!” in queer history. Thank you! Now, every time we create a space where Love & Laughter grows, where queer history is remembered, and where authentic LGBTQ+ lives are seen and celebrated, we’re honoring the Stonewall spirit beyond June and Pride Month.

Join the Celebration & the Conversation!

The Hotel Cairo is Relaunched! If you haven't checked into Hughie and Fabian's world yet, now is the perfect time! Find it on Amazon KDP! 

What does "sanctuary" mean to you? Share your thoughts in the comments below or on social media!

Sign Up for the Newsletter: Get all the latest news, more history deep dives, and exclusives

Follow on Social Media: Let's keep the Pride spirit going all month long! I’m on Facebook, Instagram, and Bluesky.

Next Sunday's Topic: We'll be tracing the evolution of Pride from protest march to parade, and why visibility still matters so much!

Happy Pride, everyone! Let's make it a month of powerful remembrance and joyous resistance!

Love & Laughter,

Gary Alan Hidalgo

[nitewrighter]

what do the directors cuts of breach and dragonback look like? I know you've mentioned being burned out on overwatch, so I'll leave a ⭐️ if you'd rather answer that instead.

Ask me about one of my fanfic's Directors' cuts!

The Director's cut of "Breach" is--my brain just put that whole fic together basically as an AMV set to David Bowie's "Modern Love." You know that one Studio Ghibli music video? It would be coordinated to the music like that. Okay, on a more serious note, though, when I first came up with Aedan as a character, I never actually planned on giving him a redemption arc. Honestly my followers were shipping Reidan before I was--I was hesitant to ship my fankids at all because I was still writing out cutesy stuff for them that focused more on like, how parenthood was affecting their respective guardians. But then I dropped Aedan in there about the same time I was starting to draw Rei as a teenager, starting to write out her 'kit' as a hypothetical Overwatch hero, I was starting to write Marti being mentored by Jack. So the kids were basically slowly tipping into that "next-gen hero" zone when Aedan gets added to the mix.

You can all thank @the-legion for Aedan's whole characterization as we know him now, because Legion pretty much hit me with something like, "It's just I always felt sorry for the Clones in the Clone Wars, and I always liked when they became more than what they were made to be. When they fought against what they had been created for." So for me, that kind of morphed into, "Okay wait, Moira's a perfectionist, and also when you become a parent, you have this drive to make sure your kid has the resources and support you didn't--what if Moira ends up making someone a lot more sympathetic than herself." It's so funny though--literally my first drawing of him interacting with Rei was captioned, "Rei doesn't like him," but I think even then I was kind of subconsciously sympathetic towards Aedan because in that drawing Rei's visibly chewing him out and he's just kind of standing there, taking it, albeit in a broody way. Like my earliest iterations of Aedan kind of had him as more of a mini-Moira, but like, as soon as I started writing fics about his actual clone origins, I was like, "Oh--yeah, actually he's very sympathetic."

So Breach kind of became the culmination of that--and it's also like... I didn't want Aedan's redemption arc to come without incredible loss. You don't choose the right thing to do because it's easy, or even because you like a pretty girl, in the end Reaper summarizes it the most succinctly: Aedan chooses what he chooses because Moira gave him everything she never had.

The loss of Rei's dragon also hooks into that, "No redemption without incredible loss" but also that came from a decision of, "As part of maturing Rei's character, I have to force her to experience life outside of Overwatch so she's not just falling into continuing her parents' fight." It was also to demonstrate that there was no way Aedan crossing over from one side to the other would be clean. He doesn't get to arrive in Overwatch to trumpets and fanfare because Rei's still gone through this incredible trauma. De-powering arcs in comics always stressed me out so bad, or sometimes they would bore me because "you're taking away an important part of this character for angst or to shove them to the side" but actually putting Rei through this showed me their general value. It basically kept Rei and Aedan from automatically plunging into their romance after the redemption arc, forced it to more of a slow burn, and, of course, it gave me a chance to kind of, shape that Genji-esque fierce cheerfulness in Rei by dropping her in Hollywood as a stuntwoman while also giving that part of her character a deeper and more mature dimension. And you see that at the beginning of Dragonback.

The Director's cut of Dragonback is me going, "How many 90's teen coming of age/romcom tropes can I jam into these kids' existential crises?" This fic I think came a lot more quickly because there were a lot of elements that I had kind of established in my head--it's Overwatch's first brush with Andrea, it's Rei getting her dragon back, it's Rei and Aedan finally smooching. These were basically dominos that were set up as far back as Breach, they just needed time to percolate with the whole "Rei in Hollywood" bit. I think writing this fic taught me a lot about writing action scenes--I wanted Faustine to basically be a metal gear boss, I wanted Andrea to be terrifying, and I'm basically writing two simultaneous fight scenes which is basically just Genji trying to get to Rei and Aedan. I also knew I wanted to beat the shit out of Aedan as kind of a reversal of him being the 'hero' back in Breach and to also keep the focus on Rei. It's also partially establishing, "Rei doesn't love Aedan because she's dependent on him, but the seed of this whole thing is the fact that they've irrevocably changed each other." Also she needs to save him because #Feminism. I think like... this fic also really helped solidify the appeal of Rei and Aedan as star-crossed for me. Like, I think one of the things that kind of made me hesitant to ship them was the fear of the whole, "Rival families" cliche--like I think this fic's conclusion basically goes, "There is so much that is out of these kids' hands, so much in play that they never had control of since the day they were born, but they get to have this. They get to make this little space."

Also this fic ended up setting up my theory about the Shimada Dragons, which like... I dunno. You couldn't pay me to read about Kiriko, so as far as I care, that's the explanation for the Shimada dragons I'm going to go with.

[the73rdpostscript]

Tell me again about No Sleep Till JoeNicky - 7 - nice version and also tell me about aaaaahhhhhhh

(I know you know the background of this fic, but since most people don't I'm just gonna explain it.)

I'm writing a modern au where Joe develops really bad insomnia and discovers that the only way he can get some sleep is if he's sleeping...next to Nicky. He doesn't like Nicky but he REALLY needs to sleep before his big art show so they have to make it work and oh my GOSH wouldn't you know it they fall in love.

The first draft of this fic had Joe acting too rude for too long without adequate reason. I was essentially half-assing an enemies to lovers when the vibe of the story was just cutesy romcom stuff and it didn't work at all - even though I had some really fucking good scenes in there if I do say so myself.

So right now the story is being reformatted so that Joe is less of an asshole and the climax of the fic is no longer the two of them being vulnerable and apologizing to each other at a sleep clinic.

So since the sleep clinic climax isn't happening I'm gonna just share it here. It's a very long section but I really like what I had.

So....enjoy a massive amount of writing that is now totally irrelevant!

-

“I need to sleep! I want to sleep! And ideally I would be able to do that away from you!” Joe shouts.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Across from him, Nicky has gone completely still - mouth pinched shut and eyes shifting from hurt to distant so quickly Joe would miss it if he hadn’t spent the last week looking into those same eyes every morning and every night.

“Then it seems we have no more need to keep up the charade, as you called it.” Nicky says quietly. He might as well be sitting in an office meeting with strangers.

“Nicky, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’d like you to leave now.” Joe thought he had heard the worst of Nicky’s coldness during the first fight they ever had. The ice in Nicky’s voice now would have shredded him that first day. It’s all he can do to look at Nicky long enough to nod and turn away.

-

He walks home, even though his hands are shaking and his legs feel weak. The cold air is an unpleasant sensation and he thinks he might be in trouble if it’s still better than the feeling he has after that fight.

When he gets home he walks past Nicky's shortbread and eats leftover takeout that smells questionable at best.

Maybe there was something to his false bravado about not needing Nicky, because after an hour of crying to himself he falls asleep on his couch, alone.  

-

The next day he can barely get any work done, and the Nicky painting sits in the corner, staring at him as he struggles with the other canvas – the one he was so close to finishing yesterday.

Around dinnertime, Quynh sends him an email with the options for an appointment at the sleep clinic – detailing the merits of the place, and asking for a response when he’s able. When they’re able actually. Nicky is the other recipient of the email, and though he hasn’t responded with his availability yet, Joe knows he’s seen it.

Nicky is always checking his phone – Joe’s seen him do it so many times he could paint the gesture from every angle. He would want to do one from just behind, and capture the privacy of the moment from over Nicky’s shoulder, highlighting the angle of his nose as the screen lights it up, and the clench of his jaw that he never seems to notice. Maybe Nicky would sleep better if he looked at his phone less.

The email stares up at him from his phone, and Quynh’s impatience is clear in every perfectly chosen word. There are implications there: Quynh and Nicky have spoken since last night, or Andy and Nicky. Maybe Nicky didn’t say anything and Quynh saw his mood at lunch. She’s been suspiciously quiet towards Joe since this whole thing started and it hasn’t escaped Joe’s notice that Andy introduced her to Joe after she was already friends with Nicky.

Joe’s pulse spikes at the idea of losing Quynh or Andy over this. But then he remembers the time that Booker almost hit Joe outside the nightclub, and the time that Andy disappeared for a week in the middle of her own wedding preparations. Joe doesn’t make friends with people who would turns him away over a single fight. Even if he feels like he might deserve it right now.

None of this matters in the moment, however. Joe had asked for a solution to his sleep problem that doesn’t include Nicky, and that’s what’s being offered.

With a sigh, he sends back his availability, and he only barely resists throwing his phone when Nicky responds less than a minute later with his own confirmation of a date that will work.

Before he can stop himself, Joe opens a text message to Nicky, and he gets halfway through his first sentence before he realizes that he doesn’t know what he could say that would even start to address everything that’s happened so far.

Instead he shuts his phone and pulls out an old canvas he once left half finished out of sheer annoyance. He paints until the sun comes up, and then he paints some more.

-

The sleep clinic is small. Joe only sees two assistants and one clinician. The assistants have Joe fill out forms when he arrives, perched awkwardly on a plastic chair next to Nicky.

Between the staff’s polite and distant demeanor, and Nicky’s stoic compliance, Joe feels like he’s alone in the room. It isn’t until they’re asked to detail what’s been going on that he feels a semblance of normalcy.

“So that’s why we’re here to see you,” Joe finishes, having taken point on explaining the situation.

The clinician behind the desk looks at Nicky. “Anything to add?”

Nicky shrugs, “Joe covered it all more or less accurately. I have been struggling with sleep for longer than him, but sleeping beside him has let me sleep regularly and more easily.”

“How much longer have you had trouble sleeping?” The clinician asks, looking down at Nicky’s chart.

Joe watches the lines of Nicky’s shoulder lift – tension clear in his jaw, “I don’t think that’s relevant.”

The clinician responds coolly, “I can’t help you without the proper background information.”

Glancing at Joe, Nicky lets out a sigh, “I stopped sleeping well in my late teenage years.”

Joe tries not to visibly respond, but he can feel his mouth drop open. Beside him, Nicky seems to tense more - as if he can sense Joe’s reaction.

“Any idea what caused the change?”

“I don’t think Nicky needs to share that,” Joe says, speaking before he thinks about it. The idea of Nicky being asked to tell a strangers details that he hasn’t even been able to tell Joe after a week of sleeping in the same bed feels inappropriate at best. This was not a part of his plans to get some sleep.

If Nicky has anything to say about the interruption, he doesn’t get the chance as the clinician addresses Joe, “We are not mind readers Mr. Al-Kaysani. We can’t tell you what is going on with you if we don’t have context for the things you’re experiencing.”

“That may be true, but Nicky didn’t want to share any of this with me before, and I don’t-“

“Nothing changed,” Nicky interrupts Joe with all the calm that Joe can’t feel, “I could not even guess why I stopped sleeping. I’m sorry if that hinders any part of this study.” Something in his voice sounds off, but the clinician doesn’t seem to notice as she nods.

“Okay. Well thank you for telling us what you could. I can’t promise any results tonight, but we will do our best with what we get.”

As the woman rises from her chair, Joe turns to look at Nicky. The other man is gathering his coat and his bag – avoiding Joe’s eyes.

It’s all Joe can do not to grab him and ask him if he still wants to do this at all.

-

When they’re led into a room with two twin beds, Nicky still isn’t looking at Joe.

They were directed to put on their own sleepwear before they came in, and Joe notices that the shirt Nicky picked is different than the worn out ones he usually wears to bed. Joe himself is wearing sweatpants that he normally works out in, and he isn’t even close to feeling relaxed as they get into their respective beds.

The woman speaks over the intercom to them, instructing them to try and sleep but not to feel pressure. They have time, according to her.

For a few minutes, Joe and Nicky lay in silence.

“Quynh didn’t come,” Joe observes at last, “I thought she might.”

“Her meeting ran late,” Nicky responds, voice stiff.

And with that, they return to silence.

Another few minutes pass by, and Joe knows they can’t have been there long, but he’s distinctly aware of how slow time is moving based on how loud Nicky’s breathing feels – uneven and overwhelming over the distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says, suddenly.

In the silence, Nicky’s breathing has changed, “Scusi?”

“I’m sorry that they asked you about your past, and that you have to be here at all. This wasn’t where I thought we’d end up.”

For a long time they lay in silence.

“Where did you think we’d end up?” Nicky asks.

Joe opens and closes his mouth several times before Nicky shifts in his bed and says, “We should try counting down again.” The lights of the room are dim but not completely dark and Joe can see Nicky laying stiffly under the sheets – looking as uncomfortable as Joe feels.

“Alright. 10, 9, 8,”

Nicky joins him on 7, and this time Joe is still awake when he gets to 1, so he hears Nicky’s voice slow down and drop off during the countdown. For a moment the only sound in the room is the unnatural hum of a different air system, and the steady inhaling and exhaling of Nicky’s sleep.

-

The clinician wakes Joe up, and after a moment of feeling disoriented, he looks over at where Nicky is already sitting up – waiting for one of the assistants to finish pulling the sensors off his face.

“Did you find anything?” Joe asks the clinician, not bothering to let her say anything before he sits up and reaches to help her pull the sensors off.

She catches his hands and tells him to be patient and to relax a moment, but he only lowers his hands and asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“We got what we needed, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed with what we discovered.”

Joe can’t see Nicky’s face but he can feel the tension radiating off of him.

The clinician steps back to more clearly address them both as she says, “We’ve confirmed that there’s nothing unusual about your physical readings when you sleep beside each other. There’s nothing specific going on biologically that we can point to right now.”

Joe wants to scream. “What does that mean?”

For the first time all night, the woman looks a little soft as she addresses him, “It means I don’t have any answers for you, Mr. Al-Kaysani.”

"So why cant I sleep without him?" He can’t stop himself from asking.

The woman gives him a patient look as she responds, "It could be any number of things. External or internal. Rhythms of your apartment, lack of sound, a pet, nightmares, anxiety-"

Joe doesn’t know why, but the very word makes him choke. “Are you saying that being without Nicky gives me anxiety?" Before he finishes the question he’s looking over at Nicky, and Nicky turns to look back. His face is intense and his gaze unwavering. It’s the expression he made the night that they talked about his nightmares – scared and determined and so unbelievably vulnerable that it makes Joe choke on the last word. Something in Nicky’s jaw ticks, and Joe wonders about it for a moment before Nicky speaks and the moment dissipates.

"Impossible. Anyone who feels anxiety when I'm gone has never lost an argument about something as stupid as whether or not [team] will make it to [tournament]."

Joe crushes the urge to argue and takes the offering for what it is, turning to the doctor and asking, "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor hums and looks down at her chart, "if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you both go. We have all we need for now and you'll get results in your email within a few days."

-

They leave the lab in relative silence, and as they step out of the doors, Joe asks, “Will you come back to my place?”

Nicky looks startled at the question, and Joe remembers just as suddenly what day it is.

“Oh. Right, you have that thing.”

After a brief look of confusion, Nicky’s expression turns to something that might be either frustrated or fond, “That’s not tonight. I’d be happy to come back to your place.”

The radio keeps them company on the drive back to Joe’s apartment, and it isn’t until they get inside that Joe thinks to ask, “Did you cancel your mystery guests?”

“I did,” Nicky says, sounding tired. For a moment, they stand in the hallway together – Joe leaning against the wall and Nicky with his hands on his hips. They must paint a rather sad picture – half in and half out, of both the apartment and this peace that could be something deeper if they let it. If Joe let it, maybe.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you said,” Nicky replies, one corner of his mouth lifting, “Show me where your kitchen is. I think we both could use something to eat.”

Once Joe’s gotten Nicky acquainted with the space and convinced him to keep the cooking simple, he settles himself the counter he thinks will be least in the way.

“You know don’t have to cook for me. I wouldn’t exactly want to feed me right now after everything.”

“That is why it’s good that you don’t make decisions for me,” Nicky says, digging around in the fridge, “You could do something for me though.”

“What?”

Standing up straight, Nicky turns to meet Joe’s eyes. “Tell me what this has all been about.”

-

[wondereads]

Weekly Reading Update (06/23/24)

Reviews and thoughts under the cut

Wild Seed by Octavia E. Butler (8/10)

This was my first ever Octavia E. Butler book, and it didn't disappoint! The way this story used Anyanwu and Doro's relationship to comment on power dynamics and issues in the world at large blew my mind; I found the discussion of eugenics particularly interesting. They were both such intensely flawed yet compelling characters. This book skirts the line between fantasy and sci-fi (something I'm looking into for my thesis as a peripheral issue), and it definitely made me wonder about the world. I wasn't aware going in that this was a prequel situation, but even then I do think I was a bit dissatisfied with how things left off. That's just my personal taste though.

Haikyuu!! Vol. 41 and 42 by Haruichi Furudate (10/10)

It usually takes me around half an hour or so to get through a volume of manga, but these took me a couple of hours. Why? Because I had to keep putting it down because I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe. As someone who has read a plethora of books ever since I was young, it takes a lot to get me to cry, especially that hard. I was sobbing. Furudate has created such wonderful characters and then puts them through so many struggles that I can't even be mad about because it's highly realistic that someone pursuing a sport would run into this! Seeing Hinata break down followed instantly by the third years graduating and the Brazil arc had me miserable in the best way possible. I usually never rate manga or graphic novels five stars because they're usually super fast-paced and so much relies on writing style for me when I read novels, but this just broke me.

Better Than the Movies by Lynn Painter (46%)

This is a very cute book so far. I could probably tell you exactly what's going to happen from this point onward, but it's a genre convention for romcoms to be predictable. Liz is a fun protagonist; she's quirky in a way that has a reason and isn't annoying. There's good chemistry between the leads with some great banter, and you really can't ask for more than that. However, I will say the constant song references are starting to irk me, especially with the lyrics included in the writing --I don't know, it just reminds me too strongly of my early fanfiction years.

Moon Rising by Tui T. Sutherland (45%)

If there's one thing about me, I love a mind-reading protagonist. Moonwatcher is probably my favorite perspective of the Wings of Fire series, even if I wish she'd speak up sometimes. Sutherland did a great job making her similar to Starflight, since they're the same tribe, without being a carbon copy, and while mind reading might seem a little too omniscient, her inexperience and general social ineptitude keep it from becoming overpowered. I'm thrilled to see the return of Peril, whose story is left open from the previous arc, and I'm excited to learn more about the other new characters (Winter, Qibli, and I believe Turtle) who have their own interesting introductions.

The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien (43%)

Despite my fantasy obsession, this is my first time reading The Lord of the Rings (though I have read The Hobbit). While it is definitely much slower-paced than the average modern fantasy, I'm enjoying myself so much. If you've been following my blog for a while, you'll know I'm a worldbuilding nut, so this is like my dream book. There are so many tangents to tell stories about the history of Middle Earth and all the goings-on of the world, and I keep noticing little details and wishing they'd talk about those too. Tolkien is also a rather funny writer; Bilbo's passive aggression in particular made me giggle. While this a bit of a dense story, it's definitely living up to its reputation so far.

Boys With Sharp Teeth by Jenni Howell (42%)

This is a project for my part-time job, so I'm not sure how much I can actually divulge, but let me just say this: this book is compared to The Raven Boys in its summary, and it's living up to that.

Her Wolves by G. Bailey (7%)

I won't lie, the writing of this book so far does not give me hope. However, it could still be a fun read even if the grammar and syntax aren't the best. Also, funny thing, this book is set in the future on Earth. I did not know this. I thought it was a high fantasy. So imagine my surprise to see a landmass labeled "America Court" on the map. My misunderstanding was cleared up soon, but it still made me laugh.

[themonotonysyndrome]

I'm down for anything from you, m'lady!

What about something like modern!AU + Coffee shop!AU with Warren/Cupcake or Celi/Castin? 👀

Like any good RomCom, it begins with a bad a bad pickup line in a coffee shop.

"If I have four quarters to give to the four prettiest women in the world, you would have a dollar!"

You press your lips into a straight line, mustering every bit of willpower not to laugh the longer the woman in front of you remains silent and the more sweat dripping down the cashier's neck.

"Are you saying that I'm only worth a dollar?"

Oh shit, oh shit. You just get chills running down your spine. Abort! Abort! Diving underneath a nearby table sounds a lot better than your initial order for coffee and blueberry muffins. But like watching a trainwreck, your feet are firmly planted on the ground due to morbid curiosity. How on earth is the cashier going to save his skin from this? Judging from his 'deer in a headlight' expression, you have very little hope for him.

"N-No! I just, uh, wait. Lemme try that again - " Your jaw is on the floor. Is he seriously going to try - "I'm confused. I thought happiness started with H, but mine starts with U."

"Does anyone ever tell you that you have dyslexia?"

"Yeesh, I'm just trying to give a compliment, sweetheart. You don't have to be so high and mighty about it."

"And I'm just trying to get my tea, but I guess we're both disappointed."

Stares. Nothing but silent stares from the both of them. It's a good thing that the cafe is empty right now because the queue will not be moving anytime soon. Fortunately, your boyfriend emerges from the storage at the back to break the awkward tension.

"What the - Castin, go get her order already. The lunch rush is gonna hit us in half an hour and we'll die if we don't take out the breads by then."

The cashier rolls his eyes and suddenly smirks. "Just for that, I'm gonna add extra sugar to your black tea."

The woman in front of you hurries over to the side, scolding him for his blatant disrespect only for her voice to be drowned out by the tea machines. Watching her trying to throw hands from across the counters is hilarious.

"Hey, Cupcake. Done with classes for the day?" Warren greets, now manning the cash registry. He looks good with the sleeves of his favourite flannel shirt rolled up and an adorable blue apron tied around the waist. Although if you asked him, he'd much prefer working without a shirt. It gets more customers, that's what he likes to say.

"All done. That's why I like Mondays. No more lecturers after 11 AM." You say in a sing-song voice. "And you know what that means?"

"My Cupcake will be chilling with me until the end of the shift?" Warren guesses with a beaming grin.

"You know it! I love catching up with my schoolwork here. The muffins are to die for. Speaking of which..."

"I'll get it ready for, ya. With your usuals too?"

"Yes, please."

The shop is perfectly located between two of the biggest universities in the country. A branch of the e-commerce university from Steelgate and the Imperial Academy for All. Needless to say, students flock here on a regular basis while those like Warren and Castin are taking a gap year to fatten up their funds for future tuition.

So it's not strange to see a student dropping up for a quick pick me up. What's strange is the same woman from yesterday returning once more.

"Welcome to Desmond Coffee & Cafe! How can I - Oh. Back so soon, sweetheart?"

"I'd rather you use my name instead of that inane term of endearment turn insult, Hammer."

"Well then, pray tell; what's your name?"

"It's Celica. The same one you've written on my cups for the last month, remember?"

"Right, right. And do you even bother to remember my name, Celica?"

"How can not? You're the most obnoxious quarterback and foreign exchange student from Intacia."

"C'mon~ It's alright to say it. Names don't bite~"

"Look, can I just have my usual orders? My next class is in 15 minutes."

"Well, if you feel like saying the magic word, I'll get right on it."

"...Fine. My tea and macaroons better be on the house if you make me late, Castin."

[alittlefrenchtree]

I'd like to know your thoughts on the scene of the first time in Paris 😊

A Scene Walk-Through by yours truly, Alft 🌳

I think this post is going to be a compilation of many things from objective observations to very personal opinions and from technical points to subjective feelings. 

I’ve talked about this scene a few times here and there but most of the time through a different topic and never in great details from start to finish. Since I’m kindly asked now, it’s a pretty good time do it. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a freaking long answer, so go grab a snack and a glass of water if you feel like staying with me for a while. (This is future me speaking, this thing is 1.4K words long).

First thing first,

The scenes leading to the scene :

Last previously said, the scene in the coffee is one of my favorite. I like how warm it is, how right the energy is between them and I honestly think it should have been longer. More shots of their hands hovering above the table, searching for the other's but never touching, all the tension between them building up not only through their eyes but through their bodies as well without release. But we get another scene instead.

The first time I’ve watched the movie, I thought there was a time gap between the two scenes, and that we were getting snap shots of different dates and them getting to know each other through weeks and months. First reason to that is because the park they wander through looks nothing like Paris so obviously I thought they weren’t in Paris anymore. Second reason is because the colors are so cold, and even more in contrast with the warmth of the previous scene. I could have known with the clothes but I didn’t notice during the first time watching. I know the tone of the scene is colder because of the more serious conversation they’re having, talking about Henry’s family and life. But in the treatment of the colorimetry, it confuses me about the time and it was a bit in the nose for me I guess. Having Henry open up in the warmth of the previous scene, feeling safe in Alex’s warmth would have been so beautiful and to my eyes, a better transition to the following night scene, staying in the warm feeling of their blooming relationship.

The Actual Scene

So my first feeling of the scene was obviously confusion. I had that *oh we’re still in Paris* second, going back to the previous scene for another second to finally understand that all of this was the same day and then actually focusing on the scene. Clearly not the most ideal transition. And then the problems begin.

The Scenery

I feel like only Parisian people will understand the problem but. The golden Eiffel Tower through the golden window with the golden champagne with the golden lights and the golden wallpapers and the golden pillows and the golden…ZZZ.ZzzzzZZZzzzzzz…………………… On top of all the gold, the whole decor of the room was kind of underwhelming for me. I guess we should ask to non-french and non-parisian people if this specific aesthetic for Paris works for them and made they feel romance but for me it felt mostly cliché and outdated. And not really Paris coded all together. Which could have worked for a romcom but it doesn’t feel like it was right for this romcom that is rather fresh and modern to my eyes.

The Blocking of the Foreplay

I’m not the biggest fan of the framing of the shots for the first part of the scenes but I wouldn’t know how to phrase it so let's roll with them. Up until that moment, 

Let’s say I’m good. But then there is a time gap and we jump to this,

And the cuts feel too harsh? I do know that realistically, you have back and forth when you’re intimate with someone and not everything goes smoothly from point A to point B every time. But, I also know that sometimes it’s best to negotiate with realism for the sake of your storytelling. And there, you left them undressing each other and not being able to be an inch apart while having barely started and the next frame they’re completely naked but so far away from each other. I feel like it doesn’t make much sense. The scene is about two people making love for the "first" time with each other, there is no uncertainty (about wanting it i mean), no fight, no doubt in them so the logical thing would be for them to be closer and closer through the whole scene, which is obviously not the case here. Maybe they should have been less close in the first part and a bit closer in the second so it would feel more logical regarding of the story telling.

Plus I’m not the biggest fan of how the standing-naked part was filmed. Having shot, then reverse angle shot, then shot again, it increases how far away from each other they seem, in that case. And it isn’t really exciting as a directing choice, I guess.

But, of course, I understand why the second part is there. It’s their first time really taking their time, seeing each other completely naked, admiring each other body and feeling everything. So for me, it’s not about the writing but about the blocking and maybe a few shots that should have been added or put together differently or something.

The Main Event

Actually, I think it’s a frame from this scene that really decided me to watch the movie. Because I saw a gif of taht kiss and for a second, I thought it was a gif from Queer as Folk. And I still can’t unsee it and knowing a bit more about Matthew now and about the references he put in his movie, I’m pretty sure there is a something here? I mean come on.

So yeah, all of the first part of the bed part, I was there. Their acting is beautiful, the chemistry is there, the close up on their faces are beautiful, that hand of that lower back is beautiful so, yes, obviously, yes. Nothing was missing. Except for that key to slide between those sinful lips but who am i to ask for what the world rightfully deserves?

But then the hands.  

First time I’ve watched the movie, my first thought seeing these shots was exactly: "oh so this is the cutaway shot they probably made two days after, probably chewing on a slice of pizza at the same time". And then I’ve learned that the said shot was indeed filmed on another day (probably while chewing on a slice of pizza) and I obviously couldn’t unsee it. It’s supposed to be a beautiful shot, and in a sense it is and we all understand the symbolism of it but it’s too disembodied to my eyes? I’m not sure how the word translates in English but it feels cut off from the rest of the scene and the rest of them. Just hands and arms without the bodies they belong too.

The other hands shots are a bit more embodied but still feel a bit more catalog-y than natural. Like they had a list of shots they took from the "how to film a sex scene" manual and checked all the little boxes : hand in hand ✅, hand on shoulder ✅, hand through hair ✅. And it doesn’t feel right for this scene and it’s actually something that can be also seen through the whole movie. 

It isn’t always a bad thing but more like a characteristic that is specific to the genre, and to the targeted audience, and to the market the movie has been made in. And to this specific story as well. There are lots of cuts, not a lot of time to sit a bit in the scenes and feel and sometimes what feels like a bit of a lack of unity in the whole story. If you scroll through all the scenes, you realize that, apart from Alex’s room, Ellen’s office and Zahra’s office, they’re always in a new location or a different room. Obviously the story also asks for this but I missed how actors can own a location because they’ve been working in there for a while and how their characters grow to belong in that place. And I hope we’ll be allowed to have that. With a sequel. And a brownstone. It would change everything.

So yeah, here is that. I’ve answered the question and add some more so I hope it’s ok. I hope it’s at least half as interesting to read as it was interesting for me to write. 

Thank you for asking 💜

[beatriceaware]

Review: Self-Control (1811)

“So true it is, that concealment is the bane of friendship.”

Synopsis: When Laura Montreville’s suitor (who, unbeknownst to her, has no intention of marrying her) attempts to seduce her, her horrified reaction and refusal of his advances leads to his full-on obsession with her, as she struggles to remain true to her morals and character while escaping his increasingly oppressive attentions.

Published in 1811, Self-Control, by Scottish novelist Mary Brunton (1778-1818), is a novel full of unlikely occurrences, strong expressions of faith, and served as a rebuttal to the romantic idea of the time that reformed rakes made the best husbands. It was successful upon release, so much so that Jane Austen wrote to her sister of having difficulty in obtaining a copy.

While the book certainly has merits, it also has enough detractors to discourage modern audiences, though most of those detractors were also criticisms leveled at the book upon its release, for the circumstances and situations within it do grow more and more unlikely and melodramatic as the story progresses. At the same time, the story is scattered with examples of well-written lines and genuinely good insights into human character. It also gives an unexpectedly sympathetic view of a family whose lives have been affected by sexual assault, and when we are often told about how women were always treated by society at large more as objects and property in previous eras, seeing evidence in that era’s novels that there was still a large population of people who condemned that behavior is a refreshing view. Not that there are not attitudes within the story that many of us might find hard to take, but the novel treats its characters as realized people regardless of gender, and its heroes are always respectful of women, while the lack of it it is a clear and obvious flaw of its villains. 

(In fact, the behavior of the book’s ultimate hero holds up better than many a man in a modern romcom, for Montague de Courcy does not press his attentions or even tell Laura of them while her situation would make a refusal of him uncomfortable due to constant contact; and then when he is refused, he is true to his word and doesn’t make Laura feel bad about rejecting him or try to manipulate friendship into making her fall in love with him.)

From a social perspective, Laura’s precarious situation is exacerbated by being a young woman with no protector, no wealth, and no advantage of a high position in society. That being said, her trials do linger on in a way that becomes, quite frankly, tiresome (and increasingly more unbelievable, as her aunt's dogged pressure for her to marry our villain Hargrave even in the face of worse and worse evidence of his depravity, for example, begins to feel more like plot armor than convincing motive) until they finally conclude in a most unlikely manner.

(SPOILER ALERT: that manner being that Colonel Hargrave, hires someone to kidnap Laura and bring her to America where he plans to rape her and force her to marry him; she escapes by faking her death in the rapids in a canoe before sailing home END OF SPOILER)

In truth, the faults of this novel are especially disappointing because there are so many glimmers of promise within the pages; had it committed to a more realistic plot without falling into pits of melodrama, it could have, I believe, better withstood the tests of time.

My personal favorite parts of the novel were when the author would drag her own characters in the most delightfully insulting way- Mrs. Brunton seemed to have a particular displeasure for bad and incompetent mothers, and described Laura’s in particular as having a heart that was a “mere pulsation of the left side.” Perhaps I also loved these moments because it’s proof that people never really change, and I can tell you I’ve certainly known modern versions of the sorts described below:

“Having no character of her own, Julia was always, as nearly as she was able, the heroine whom the last read novel inclined her to impersonate. But as those who forsake the guidance of nature are in imminent danger of absurdity, her copies were always caricatures.” 

or:

“Colonel Hargrave had been the spoiled child of a weak mother, and he continued to retain one characteristic of spoiled children: some powerful stimulant was with him a necessary of life. He despised all pleasures of regular occurrence and moderate degree; and even looked down upon those who could be satisfied with such enjoyments, as on beings confined to a meaner mode of existence.” 

and finally:

Lady Pelham could amuse–could delight; she said many wise, and many brilliant things; but her wisdom was not always well-timed, and her brilliant things were soap-bubbles in the sun, sparkling and highly colored, but vanishing at the touch of him who would examine their structure.

One last, notable thing about Self-Control: we have Jane Austen’s surviving opinion of it. In 1813 she wrote, "I am looking over Self Control again, and my opinion is confirmed of its being an excellently-meant, elegantly-written work, without anything of nature or probability in it.” Truth be told, I think Miss Austen pretty much had the right of it, and her opinion stands just as well today as it did then.

[jiannguo]

Is Xiao Zhan and Li Qin CP very big?

The ship is called "ZhanQin" and they are Xiao Zhan's second largest ship. But majority are the fans who want to see them together in a drama rather than them believing they are a couple. Even when the CP was at its peak, for instance in 2018 while filming Jade Dynasty, Li Qin was dating Deng Lun that time which was not a super secret.

If you enter the supertopic, there are just the usual tropes of wearing similar brand clothes, kaidans, excited posts if they are in same location, manips, fanvids, similar clothes but decades apart, or even six degrees of separation etc but these are the kind of posts you'd find in any CP supertopic.

What also helps is they are friends in the personal lives (for many years actually) and have been seen hanging out offline without fans going absolutely nuts. Most fans just want to see them act together. And honestly after seeing them in Where Dreams Begin, I would love to see them in a modern romcom.