Daily Drawing Day 163 - Once upon a December...

Every year, around this time, I re-watch Anastasia and every time it appears to be better and better!

Back in December 2016, during a sleepover, my friends and I decided to watch EXO's Chanyeol's most recent movie, "So I Married an Anti-Fan". It effortlessly became one of my favourite movies, so much so that I rewatch it —at least— once a year.

Therefore, when it was first announced that South Korea was going to produce a drama based on the same story, I was thrilled. The feeling only increased when I found out that the male lead was Choi Tae-Joon, whom I loved because of Suspicious Partner. Later (to be more precise, this year), I discovered that the other lead was the one and only Sooyoung from SNSD!

The drama was filmed back in 2018, and it was supposed to air a loooot sooner, but it had a few problems and it finally came out this year. Since I don't like waiting for episodes to come out each week, I waited until it finished airing to watch it... And, today, I finished it!

So, here's my review, fresh out the oven!

· · ·

So I Married an Anti-Fan is a 2021 South Korean drama, featuring Choi Tae-Joon, Choi Sooyoung, Hwang Chansung and Han Ji-Ahn. It's based on the novel "그래서 나는 안티팬과 결혼했다" (So I Married an Anti-Fan), written by Kim Eun Jun and published in 2010.

I still think about how Zhang Teng and Jing Long never got to actually showcase their stunning voices.

when we grow up (1) [svt xu minghao x reader]

genre: angst/fluff

word count: 1.3k

summary: what’s so good about growing up if you’re left alone with the memories? 

// loosely inspired by the song ‘when i grow up’ by svt’s vocal team

When I feel like nothing, that’s when I think of you.

Life used to be easier—or so it seemed in your memories. You remember colours to be brighter, smells to be sweeter, emotions to be stronger. Maybe it was just you romanticising your younger years, but doesn’t everyone do that? Apparently, growing up, your mind let go of all those moments filled with teenage angst and only kept the good memories, the ones you can’t help but recall late at night when you can’t sleep, when you feel the loneliest, when the emptiness is too much to handle. And you keep recalling them because he was in every single one of them and the mere thought of him made your heart feel warm.

You keep telling yourself every time that it’s no use recalling memories from your youth. In fact, focusing in the past won’t bring it back—at least, it won’t bring him back to you. Now, you’re halfway across the world. Moreover, you haven’t seen each other in years. Years (yes, years!) have passed since you last heard his voice.

You firmly believe that so much time has passed that he doesn’t even think of you anymore, you probably being just another person that was left behind alongside with his teenage years. But you like to think of him every now and then. And you can’t help but to wonder about his current life (how is he doing? Have his dreams come true? Is there someone he loves now?). You stay awake for hours, until four or so in the morning, asking questions to yourself of which you’ll never get to know the answers.

Immediately afterwards —or, maybe, in the meantime—, his face makes its grand entry and fills your mind up like it has every right to. In the dark, all you can see are those thin almond eyes and how they morphed into slits when he smiled brightly; you make out his slender fingers that used to intertwine with yours. So you’re finally trapped, you can’t escape: in every corner of your mind, it’s him, him, him.

And the memories of happier times just tag along.

“Hao?” You called one day, giving his hand a little squeeze to have his attention.

It was late autumn, only a couple of weeks before winter struck, and you both were hiding under the castle in the playground of your neighbourhood’s park. You had snuck out of school, thanks to that so-called young love, and spent your pocket money in some strawberry milk. You used to do that pretty often—school was boring, anyway.

You had been sitting in silence for a while, him being a relatively quiet boy. But you were getting bored after finishing your drink (you were like that when you were younger. You got a lot quieter after you grew up) and fallen leaves triggered a rather daydreaming side of yours, one that liked to ask Minghao random questions about the future.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think we’ll be doing in ten years?” Your voice was hoarse. Usually, around that time of the year, you’d get a (or several) sore throat. For this reason, as you were out in the open, you were wrapped not only in your own clothes but in Minghao’s jacket and scarf as well.

“Ten years from now?” He shifted to see you and you mimicked his movement. Your hands never let go. “A lot of things may change. That’s a lot of time.”

You suddenly felt queasy. You fidgeted with the hem of his jacket.

“Do you think we will still be together when we grow up?” You asked in a whisper. For the first time, you regretted bringing up the topic.

“Of course,” he replied in a heartbeat as if there couldn’t be any other possible answer for your question. His free hand reached the scarf around your neck and straightened it. You unconsciously nuzzled against the fabric, his mouth curled up in a soft smile at the sight. “Why wouldn’t we?”

And he sounded so confident that you chose to believe him. After all, he had always been the brighter one.

♡

“I can’t wait to grow up!” You blurted out one day.

Having that kind of outbursts was not unusual in your youth. You’d randomly go off like that around once or twice a day. The number, of course, increased or decreased depending on how much stress you were under.

That day you happened to be under a lot of stress.

The weather, hot and humid, implied that the school year was about to come to an end. But do you know what was also coming? Finals. And a lot of them, at that. So, while your classmates were enjoying a free hour, playing and chatting like any normal teenager would do, you were studying, as you had been doing for the past three weeks. You were buried under an immense pile of textbooks that could have turned anyone batshit crazy (and you were so going down that road already, unfortunately).

Minghao was sitting in front of you, his chair turned around so as he could face you. He was reading, his hands holding a thin paperback book with an aesthetic pastel blue cover with some doodles in white. You didn’t know what the story revolved around, yet you were sure that it was way more interesting and enjoyable than maths (and you were right—after all, anything is).

His eyes lifted from the book and blankly stared at you.

“I can’t wait to not have to study anymore! I’m tired,” you exclaimed, rather dramatically. Afterwards, you pressed your face to the book on your desk and grumbled.

Of course, in your imaginary, once you reached adulthood, you would be free from any and all responsibilities. You believed that you’d be a free soul, with any care in the world. So much for wishful thinking. You were still fully convinced that Minghao decided against breaking your illusions early and therefore remained silent.

You lifted your head a little to see his face, though your chin was still resting on the surface of the book. You locked eyes for a brief moment and he then resumed his reading.

“When we grow up we’ll travel everywhere, right? You’ll show me the world?” You asked. He nodded in silence. You squealed in delight. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

You stretched and linked your pinkie to his. “You can’t back out now, okay?”

♡

And just as you wished, you both ended up growing up. However, as it happens with most things in life, there was a catch—you grew apart, too. No, it wasn’t an overnight thing—neither did you fight, nor woke up one day and decided you were sick of each other’s company (you could have never—you enjoyed being around him the most in the world). Your drifting apart happened gradually, favoured by a series of unfortunate events.

Soon after he pinkie promised to show you the world, he left your hometown and never came back. To say that you were devastated was an understatement. Having known each other since you were little kids, you developed a strong bond of sorts that, when he left, you felt like someone had ripped a part of your heart. Maybe it was indeed something like that because you were convinced that he took a part of you with him.

Your conversations over the phone didn’t do it—they didn’t fill up the void. And while you looked forward to them because hearing his voice was somewhat healing (you’d close your eyes and pretend he was next to you), the moment you hung up you were in tears again.

After a couple of months, those phone calls got more and more sporadic, until they stopped altogether. He had a hectic schedule; you had to worry about school grades and university applications. And that was it.

So, while when you were younger everything you knew about him came from his own mouth, now the only things you know are rumours you are told about a friend of a friend of a friend that allegedly encountered him by chance in a foreign street, kilometres away from home.

So, in the end, what was growing up so good for?

when we grow up (1) [svt xu minghao x reader]

genre: angst/fluff

word count: 1.3k

summary: what’s so good about growing up if you’re left alone with the memories? 

// loosely inspired by the song ‘when i grow up’ by svt’s vocal team

When I feel like nothing, that’s when I think of you.

Life used to be easier—or so it seemed in your memories. You remember colours to be brighter, smells to be sweeter, emotions to be stronger. Maybe it was just you romanticising your younger years, but doesn’t everyone do that? Apparently, growing up, your mind let go of all those moments filled with teenage angst and only kept the good memories, the ones you can’t help but recall late at night when you can’t sleep, when you feel the loneliest, when the emptiness is too much to handle. And you keep recalling them because he was in every single one of them and the mere thought of him made your heart feel warm.

You keep telling yourself every time that it’s no use recalling memories from your youth. In fact, focusing in the past won’t bring it back—at least, it won’t bring him back to you. Now, you’re halfway across the world. Moreover, you haven’t seen each other in years. Years (yes, years!) have passed since you last heard his voice.

You firmly believe that so much time has passed that he doesn’t even think of you anymore, you probably being just another person that was left behind alongside with his teenage years. But you like to think of him every now and then. And you can’t help but to wonder about his current life (how is he doing? Have his dreams come true? Is there someone he loves now?). You stay awake for hours, until four or so in the morning, asking questions to yourself of which you’ll never get to know the answers.

Immediately afterwards —or, maybe, in the meantime—, his face makes its grand entry and fills your mind up like it has every right to. In the dark, all you can see are those thin almond eyes and how they morphed into slits when he smiled brightly; you make out his slender fingers that used to intertwine with yours. So you’re finally trapped, you can’t escape: in every corner of your mind, it’s him, him, him.

And the memories of happier times just tag along.

“Hao?” You called one day, giving his hand a little squeeze to have his attention.

It was late autumn, only a couple of weeks before winter struck, and you both were hiding under the castle in the playground of your neighbourhood’s park. You had snuck out of school, thanks to that so-called young love, and spent your pocket money in some strawberry milk. You used to do that pretty often—school was boring, anyway.

You had been sitting in silence for a while, him being a relatively quiet boy. But you were getting bored after finishing your drink (you were like that when you were younger. You got a lot quieter after you grew up) and fallen leaves triggered a rather daydreaming side of yours, one that liked to ask Minghao random questions about the future.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think we’ll be doing in ten years?” Your voice was hoarse. Usually, around that time of the year, you’d get a (or several) sore throat. For this reason, as you were out in the open, you were wrapped not only in your own clothes but in Minghao’s jacket and scarf as well.

“Ten years from now?” He shifted to see you and you mimicked his movement. Your hands never let go. “A lot of things may change. That’s a lot of time.”

You suddenly felt queasy. You fidgeted with the hem of his jacket.

“Do you think we will still be together when we grow up?” You asked in a whisper. For the first time, you regretted bringing up the topic.

“Of course,” he replied in a heartbeat as if there couldn’t be any other possible answer for your question. His free hand reached the scarf around your neck and straightened it. You unconsciously nuzzled against the fabric, his mouth curled up in a soft smile at the sight. “Why wouldn’t we?”

And he sounded so confident that you chose to believe him. After all, he had always been the brighter one.

♡

“I can’t wait to grow up!” You blurted out one day.

Having that kind of outbursts was not unusual in your youth. You’d randomly go off like that around once or twice a day. The number, of course, increased or decreased depending on how much stress you were under.

That day you happened to be under a lot of stress.

The weather, hot and humid, implied that the school year was about to come to an end. But do you know what was also coming? Finals. And a lot of them, at that. So, while your classmates were enjoying a free hour, playing and chatting like any normal teenager would do, you were studying, as you had been doing for the past three weeks. You were buried under an immense pile of textbooks that could have turned anyone batshit crazy (and you were so going down that road already, unfortunately).

Minghao was sitting in front of you, his chair turned around so as he could face you. He was reading, his hands holding a thin paperback book with an aesthetic pastel blue cover with some doodles in white. You didn’t know what the story revolved around, yet you were sure that it was way more interesting and enjoyable than maths (and you were right—after all, anything is).

His eyes lifted from the book and blankly stared at you.

“I can’t wait to not have to study anymore! I’m tired,” you exclaimed, rather dramatically. Afterwards, you pressed your face to the book on your desk and grumbled.

Of course, in your imaginary, once you reached adulthood, you would be free from any and all responsibilities. You believed that you’d be a free soul, with any care in the world. So much for wishful thinking. You were still fully convinced that Minghao decided against breaking your illusions early and therefore remained silent.

You lifted your head a little to see his face, though your chin was still resting on the surface of the book. You locked eyes for a brief moment and he then resumed his reading.

“When we grow up we’ll travel everywhere, right? You’ll show me the world?” You asked. He nodded in silence. You squealed in delight. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

You stretched and linked your pinkie to his. “You can’t back out now, okay?”

♡

And just as you wished, you both ended up growing up. However, as it happens with most things in life, there was a catch—you grew apart, too. No, it wasn’t an overnight thing—neither did you fight, nor woke up one day and decided you were sick of each other’s company (you could have never—you enjoyed being around him the most in the world). Your drifting apart happened gradually, favoured by a series of unfortunate events.

Soon after he pinkie promised to show you the world, he left your hometown and never came back. To say that you were devastated was an understatement. Having known each other since you were little kids, you developed a strong bond of sorts that, when he left, you felt like someone had ripped a part of your heart. Maybe it was indeed something like that because you were convinced that he took a part of you with him.

Your conversations over the phone didn’t do it—they didn’t fill up the void. And while you looked forward to them because hearing his voice was somewhat healing (you’d close your eyes and pretend he was next to you), the moment you hung up you were in tears again.

After a couple of months, those phone calls got more and more sporadic, until they stopped altogether. He had a hectic schedule; you had to worry about school grades and university applications. And that was it.

So, while when you were younger everything you knew about him came from his own mouth, now the only things you know are rumours you are told about a friend of a friend of a friend that allegedly encountered him by chance in a foreign street, kilometres away from home.

So, in the end, what was growing up so good for?

me: *crying*

friend: what’s going on? why are you crying?

me: *gestures vaguely towards thailand* 

“Super heroes that can fly” © Google

*watches Yuzuru’s WR Chopin program*

Me: 

Yuzuru Hanyu’s biggest rival is himself…and the English language.

cr: Delightful Knight

to every new choice: 🌸 💗 🌸 💗 🌸 💗 🌸 💗 i love you 🌸 💗 🌸 💗 🌸 💗 🌸 💗 🌸 💗   to every old choice:  ✨ 🌹 ✨ 🌹 ✨ 🌹 ✨ 🌹  you deserve the world 🌹 ✨ 🌹 ✨ 🌹 ✨ 🌹 ✨ 🌹  to every choice ever regardless of how long you’ve stanned a.c.e:  💖 🌈 💖 🌈 💖 🌈 💖 you are so important  🌈 💖 🌈 💖 🌈 💖 🌈 💖 

Shengsi, an archipelago of almost 400 islands at the mouth of China’s Yangtze river, holds a secret shrouded in time – an abandoned fishing village being reclaimed by nature. These photos by Tang Yuhong, a creative photographer based in Nanning, take us into this lost village on the beautiful archipelago.

@warmboy228 | 190628