HC about
Enemies to lovers with the union guys šš
(You can do other characters in Weak hero, up to ya)
hiii! I'm so sorry I'm answering so late and, well, so little. but i felt like writing something and had a bit of time to do it for the first time in a while, so... yknow, i thought a little something is better than nothing, lol. ahhh and i kind of thought these asks fit really well together, so here we are i guess :) also I'm not sure if it can be described as enemies to lovers, cuz it's a very slowburn trope, so it's more like enemies to... something? I'd love to do more characters sometime, but i cannot imagine when lol. ah and thank you so much for sending an ask with one of my favourite tropes! wishing all of you a nice day ššš
(Dongha Baek, Wolf Keum)
Dongha Baek
it doesn't start with outright enemies, not really. dongha hears of you first and cannot help but imagine how fun it would be to put you in your place, to see that calm and collected look vanish from your face, changing to anguish, humiliation, fear.
you're a rich kid. you don't need to flaunt it around for him to notice your clothes, casually expensive, either famous brands or handmade eco stuff, to notice your calm demeanor, the nicest perfume he ever got to inhale, the easy way you pay for shit - not looking at the price tag, never haggling, never getting off your high horse.
he hates people like you. what the fuck are you even doing in that got forsaken gang of losers? that's what he'd asked, if he didn't know for sure. you're simply enjoying playing with other people, flaunting your money around, looking down on shitheads ready to do anything to acquire the kind of power you were blessed with from birth.
how he'd love to remind you of your place. sure, you're rich, but he knows from experience how weak rich people truly are. how easily they break, how easily they start trying to buy you, to buy their dignity back with their money. perhaps he should let himself be bought this time, after he gets his fun. then he can play with you again later.
your gang was at the unions throat for a while now, and the fact that you still weren't destroyed was telling. it was telling one thing to most people, but the thing it was telling to dongha baek was: you sorely need to be reminded of your place.
it started like many gang fights do. a bit of shit talking, hands in their pockets, eyes gleaming with malice and mischief. you were in this business for enough time to know where it was going, and while dongha was talking you were silently getting ready.
his first swing was expected, so was the second. he wasn't entirely easy to read, but there was something else - some recklessness, wildness to his moves that set you on edge. he also laughed - all the time. startled laughter when you almost got him, raspy chuckle when you did get him, high pitched ringing laughter when it was you groaning in pain and not him. he was constantly mocking at first, the neverending shit talk, but as the fight continued, there were less and less words.
you were weird. there was something about your eyes, something about your bloody smile that didn't add up with everything he's seen of you till now. there was some hunger in you, some spite buried deep behind your polite smile. some genuine, impossible to fake strength. power.
there wasn't a clear winner that day, and you remember talking shit to each other lying on cold concrete with no strength to get up. you think it was fun and then you think you must've hit your head.
you sure start to see each other more often after that. in the streets, when you're going around for business and when you're resting. he's always trying to get you angry, to start some shit, and sometimes you deflect with polite phrases hiding a biting insult under the surface, sometimes you end up fighting it out.
it's stupid. you feel stupid every time you meet him, like some part of your brain - the reasonable, calm, smart part - shuts off when you see his shit eating grin. you're letting yourself get angry. you're letting yourself get reckless.
you should stop.
you seek him out yourself, ready to put an end to this nonsense. you start it this time, for the first time in forever. he's laughing and talking shit again, and you let it get under your skin despite yourself.
you scream for the first time in forever. it's an ungodly, impolite, weird, embarrassing sound. it's loud and wild. you're screaming and kicking and biting like an animal, because you're furious at that bastard, that pathetic fiend, and you are - you'd let him get under your skin - and you are - in love.
you think it, and it's ringing so terribly final in your head you start laughing.
dongha finally understands, and he laughs with you.
Wolf Keum
you're everything wolf has ever hated. a weak loser acting tough until it's time to get behind your words, to prove yourself. a small time criminal, freelancer on the dark side, kissing Donald's ass right after sweet-talking the union's enemies into a nice deal. two-faced liar and a coward.
wolf cannot help himself when he sees you. how can you act so confident, how can you run your fucking mouth so smoothly when you know - by experience - how it feels to be completely broken down?
by him, nonetheless.
you were (supposed to be) just another one of wolf's many victims. just another one lying before him, all bloody and broken, bloody mouth, broken breath, broken bones for sure, red and beneath the red - yellow and rose blooming into majestic purple. swollen face, swollen hands.
you were - all broken. but you were not - just another one.
you never stopped. you never let what was done to you stop you, you never even truly changed your tactics. you knew no shame. it was so disgusting, so infuriating to wolf that at some point it started to be fun.
every time he needed to do business with you he couldn't pass the chance to play. to remind you: you are weak. worthless. he could tear you up right then and there, and there'd be nothing you could do to stop him.
sometimes it was mild humiliation. some talking down, "remember what fun we had together?", "wanna repeat?", spit on your shoulder, sometimes on your face. other times he's more hands on: grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, snarling in your face, "perhaps i should bite your lips off. would be hard lying without them". and then there are times when he makes you hold his glasses and - "come on. stare at me like you did just now. don't you dare looking away from me, you dipshit" - puts his hand on your throat and squeezes.
you deal with a lot of assholes. it's basically the job description. but none of those other assholes are wolf keum. you've learned to be cold and hard and perfectly smooth like a pebble in the river. do not give a reaction. do not stop smiling. do not take sides. do not go down. do not - the list goes on. you have to be perfect. you have to survive.
wolf never fails to remind you how far from perfect you actually are.
you do not give him any reaction you are able to mask or subdue. it's never anything more than the slightest shiver, the smallest tick - but that's enough. wolf looks intently, and he sees. he grins like a mad dog that needs to be put down.
you do not go after him yourself. you're not that stupid, or brave, or self-assured. no, you do what you do best - you talk to people, you make deals, you exchange one favour for another, until it all falls into place.
you make other people go after him. the strongest guys you were able to talk into it from all over Seoul. all of it, except for the yeongdeungpo. they go, and you wait anxious and excited for the results. when there's finally a phonecall, you take it immediately.
then you hear his voice. it's gruff and low. it says "stay where you are. we'll meet soon enough".
he sends you the photos before coming, before you're able to decide what to do. the photos are shaky and bloody and your stomach turns when you look at them.
and then comes wolf. he's bloody and beaten too, perhaps even more than the guys on the photos, but you know him and he knows you know him: he's a fucking zombie, and he won't let his current condition stop him.
he also knows you. he knows that slightest shiver, that smallest tick. he knows what to expect, he readies himself for your blabbering, for your fucking lies - but you don't open your mouth. not this time.
you ready your fists, and wolf chokes on his laughter. he seems excited, indignant, startled. tired. he's beaten down - but you know that if he grabs you it will be the end. if the punch goes through - it will hurt. so you don't let him grab you or hit you for as long as you can. you find a wire and wrap it around his throat, ready to kill. he grabs you then. he punches you, and it seems you forgot how much it could hurt. it's terrible. you do not let go of the wire though, and the punches become rarer and weaker and then they stop.
wolf doesn't talk to you after that. he lets his minions do his business, and you don't see him for weeks. until suddenly you do.
you prepare for the worst, but he doesn't make a move aside from dragging a cig to and from his lips, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. watching you watching him. there's something new in his eyes - something different from the familiar sick amusement and rage and boredom. something softer, gentler - not like plush or clouds, but like a green sprout only starting to grow, easy to destroy, to kill.
you take a step in his direction, then another one, and another, until you're standing side by side. close. too close. when wolf offers you a cigarette, you take it before you think better. the cigarette is way too strong and bitter, and yet somehow you do not mind.
Using tumblr is like living in a low class apartment building. You just get used to the landlord not fixing things, and then someone new moves in and you're helpfully like "oh yeah don't drink the tap water, it's got stuff in it that makes you sick" and then your neighbor you've had forever goes "oh they took the stuff out actually" and you're like "what? when was this?"
"like two years ago"
"you mean i could've been drinking the tap water all this time?"
"yeah. they gave us individual mailboxes too finally, you don't have to dig through the communal bin anymore"
"are you for real right now?? i just redirected my mail, i didnt know"
and the new tennant is like "why did you guys even live here if it was so bad"
"we like it."
"I kinda miss the communal mail bin tho"
There was blood staining the button down shirt of his uniform.
Baekjin found himself looking at the spot for a bit longer than he most likely should.
It had dried already, turning from red to brownish, stiffening the fabric and turning it scratchy, but if he soaked it now, it should wash out fully⦠It was a pity that there simply wasn't the time for it now.
imesMaybe he could make time, but the question was, if it would be worth it. On one hand, a dried blood stain could either indicate messiness, unkemptness or give him an intimidation factor. Or a combination of these three things, depending on who he was dealing with.
The problem was that this was his school uniform and he had no intention of appearing unkempt inside the school where keeping up his image and reputation had its own importance, especially when the further success of his plans depended on having a professional enough appearance to be taken serious.
If it had been one of his other clothes, he wouldn't care as much. It wasn't a big stain and not in a visible spot either, so he could get away with keeping small blood splatters on himself as a small cue to remind his followers to not underestimate him. For some reason they tended to think he was going soft if he turned up repeatedly without any stain on himself.
How quickly they could forget the beating he handed out was confusing though. Sure, most of them had only ever witnessed him giving these beatings and not felt them themselves-only few people ever forgot if he gave them the painful hits personally-but it should still leave some impression.
The blonde looked at the bloodstain again, rubbing his thumb over the fabric and feeling the rough and hardened texture the soft fibers had turned into.
Aspirin should work well to break down the blood and help keeping it from staining. Saliva would do the same, but he had better things to do than soaking part of his clothing in spit, even if they handed up in the washer right after. He was past the point where that was necessary. He had other options now.
Stains were an annoyance anyway. If everything would go as he wanted and if he didn't need to steer people one way or the other, if he wasn't dependant on these people acting as he made them, he wouldn't even bother to think about reasons not to remove stains.
He preferred clean clothing with no hint of inability to keep it clean.
Sighing, the teen looked up from the stain and around the hallway to locate the nearest bathroom.
It would suck to wear a wet shirt, but it would only be the sleeve and he wouldn't even need to get the whole sleeve wet.
And in the end, he couldn't afford stains on the uniform. He didn't want them there either.
do you guys get it if i say donald na is taylor swift coded
HAPPY 10th ANNIVERSARY TO GRAVITY FALLS!
(click to see larger)
Back in Oct. 2018, my project for inktober was at least one pic from every episode.Ā Because of the pace, there were restrictions; I did each on a post-it note, limited coloring, and chose things that would fit the square format and that I could get done in time (between working full-time and owl-banding most nights).Ā I always sort of wanted to redo a bunch of those; but really, what occasion would merit putting in THAT much time and effort for a project of that size?
Well, how about for the 10th anniversary of the premiere of Gravity Falls?
Iām not saying this was a *smart* project to tackle, but I thought it might be āeasierā because I had first drafts of most of the pieces; I just wanted to redo them so theyād look better, with 4 more years of practice under my belt and a new move to digital art.Ā (Narrator: it was not really easier.)Ā Some I redid completely, or did new to create the full sets above.Ā Basically, once Iād hit on this idea, and decided to link it to the refrain of āHow Far Weāve Comeā, I was committed; there was no way I was going to *not* try to do it.
I know that āHow Far Weāve Comeā gets fanvidded for eight billion different shows.Ā But, the first time I heard the song was in one of the first Gravity Falls fanvids I ever watched (linkĀ below), so it will always be a GF song for me.
Gravity Falls has meant a lot to me for the past 6 years that Iāve been active in the fandom.Ā I have no doubt it will always have a big place in my heart.Ā Iām definitely not done with things Iād like to do for it.Ā Iām so glad to see people coming together to celebrate this big anniversary!Ā
ALSO: needless to say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Stan and Ford!
āHow Far Weāve Comeā by @findmeinthealps2 / @findmeinthealps
When you ignore that itās horrible that things like this can even happen, Elon Musk is honestly a fascinating and funny case study. Hereās a man who has built his entire reputation on:
Supposedly being highly intelligent
Never making mistakes due to point 1
If something goes wrong, itās not his fault due to point 2
Heās coasted along on this reputation because capitalism has created an endless supply of doofuses who think anyone who has money probably did something to deserve it (he just inherited it) so all he has to do is throw money at projects that seem smart and futury and as long as they make a minor profit or produce something cool, his reputation is reinforced.
Itās not truly reinforced, obviously, because anyone with reasonable critical thinking skills can see that heās not actually a scientist, heās at best an investor who got lucky a couple times, and regularly takes the credit for stuff his employees make, but heās got enough of the aforementioned doofuses that heās gotten by so far.
He couldāve honestly kept out of the spotlight and just made infinite money if he wasnāt also an egomaniac who needs constant approval and attention. But then, for clout, he made a statement that he was going to buy Twitter. And Twitter held him to his word. And due to point 2, he canāt walk that back, because he never makes mistakes.
So now heās lost 44 billion dollars because he couldnāt watch his mouth and cared too much about his reputation to just pay the 1 billion dollar fine to go back on his offer. So, due to point 1, he has to make it look as if he totally was going to really buy Twitter all along, and he totally has real plans for it. But Twitter is losing money, hard. So he starts looking for ways to make his money back. And somehow lands on⦠monetizing the system which verifies user identitiesā¦..?
No, totally a good idea, see point 2. Implementing it right away. People are misusing the new system? Not his fault, see point 3. But Twitter is largely funded by advertising, and advertisers can see whatās going on. So they start pulling out, which means Twitter just loses MORE money. Musk just dug himself a deeper hole. And now heās just panicking while trying to convince everyone heās got it under control. Digging deeper and deeper.
Heās fucked. Heās just totally fucked himself. And heās taking one of the planetās biggest social media platforms down with him. All because he can never admit making a mistake. Fucking hilarious. A cautionary tale of magnificent proportions. Tens of thousands of lives are going to be affected by this, as the platform they use to spread their work goes up in flames, and itās horrible, but as we are suspended in the ennui, we can at least watch this moron blow up into fireworks. Amazing.
the cutest pair
BREAKING MY HIATUS JUST TO SHOVE THIS IN YOUR FACES like they're so cute I don't think you understand !!
If Trump goes to prison during pride month I will literally never stop laughing like to charge reblog to cast give me all of your evil thoughts and prayers for this freak to get his first ever consequence.
normality is out. stanning wolf keum is in
At times, Reading He Who Drowned the World felt like I was the one being flayed and steamed alive, being cut into a thousand little pieces by a knife. The mental and physical agony the characters go through is so painful it feels even excessive at times. But even when the most horrible things were happening and I was almost losing hope towards the end, I couldnāt even be mad because I could feel what the author was trying to tell me with all this pain and suffering, and I can buy that message 100 %.
Through these deeply painful scenes, the story shows how strict gender roles, toxic masculinity, misogyny and homophobia hurt and restrict us, and how lethal they can be.
Major spoilers after this
I was especially gutted by Ouyangās death, but I feel like his storyline drove the themes of the story home in a very pronounced way. In the end, Ouyang was killed by the harmful ideas about masculinity and manhood that had been ingrained in him all his life.
His tragedy was never about having to avenge his family, but rather being so entrenched in the toxic culture of pride and revenge and masculinity that he would rather kill the one he loved and retain his āhonorā than put the idea of honor aside and love and be loved in return.
These toxic ideas are also the reason that stops him from forming real solidarity with Zhu. Even though they are both very similar, living as men while their bodies are not viewed as a manās by the society, Ouyang cannot accept Zhu as an equal because heās learned to project his self-hatred into hating everything even remotely feminine and female. Itās very upsetting to see how he loses his chance at healing and changing as a person by Zhuās side, but I think thatās the whole point. This is a book series about broken people and how people who have been hurt sometimes only learn to hurt others, and how patriarchy and other harmful structures pit women, queer and trans ppl and basically anyone against each other. This theme is visible in almost all the pov characters of the story.
Madam Zhang is incapable of letting go of the ideas about what men and women can or cannot do, which leads to her not being able to accept Zhu as an ally and subsequently her own death.
Baoxiang has been equally hurt by narrow views of masculinity and manhood, and been scorned and rejected for his femininity all his life. His pain becomes so all-consuming that he is almost suffocated by his need to revenge the society that has wronged him. In the end, he is only able to survive because he can cast things like pride or shame aside in order to start anew.
In contrast, Zhu is able to not only survive but even thrive in some way bc she doesnāt really care about those roles. Even if she is not a woman, she never rejects or undervalues femininity and is able to use it to her own advantage when needed. She also knows that pride and honor cannot comfort you when youāre dead and she would rather live, and I think this extends to a more metaphoric level too. Whatās the point of becoming āsuccessfulā or hanging on to the idea of what a āreal manā should be like, if it only leads to you being dead inside?
Obviously, letting go of these harmful and hurtful ideas and structures can not be a individual effort, but something that needs to be addressed on a more systemic level. Thatās why Zhu has to get on that throne herself in order to change the world. And it feels very meaningful that at the end, when she ascends on the throne, sheās wearing a maidās skirts, owing her win to both the feminine and masculine sides of her.
For me, at least, the very final chapter of the book managed to justify all the awful things that happened. With mercy and grace, Zhu (and Ma!) demonstrate that to make it all worth the pain and suffering, you have to stop hurting and killing others and break free from that cycle of toxicity that their world has been built upon until now.
(Also as a disclaimer, I generally prefer to read about healing and letting go of pain and generally donāt think pain and suffering make things more deep or worthy⦠but I also think that this book managed to use these elements in a very meaningful way.)