#aestheticwriting

hey you. yes, you. the one with the moody playlists, the 73-tab Pinterest board, and a half-written draft that just keeps…vibing in circles.

if you’ve ever written 10k of immaculate vibes but couldn’t tell anyone what your story is about, this post is for you. because here’s the thing: ✨ aesthetic is not a substitute for stakes. ✨

let’s talk about how to keep your ✨vibes✨ and actually have a plot that moves. no ✧ fluff ✧ just structure, character arcs, and some lovingly blunt advice from your local writeblr gremlin (me).

🌊 1. aesthetic is a result, not a premise

the most common mistake i see is starting with a vibe as the story. like:

“sad girls on the beach in 1996”

“a cursed forest full of dead gods”

“a pastel academic rivalry with secrets and sexual tension”

cool. great. love that for you. but… what’s the story? what’s happening?

✨vibes = setting + mood + tone. ✨plot = choices + consequences + change.

your aesthetic can inspire the story (please keep making playlists. i love them). but don’t confuse the feel of your world with the function of your plot. start with tension. stakes. character flaws. emotional damage. that’s the engine. the aesthetic is the paint job.

🎯 2. define your “emotional throughline”

okay, so you’ve got an aesthetic. what’s the emotional core of it? your plot should orbit a single emotional question, like:

will this character ever let themselves be known?

what does it take to unlearn loyalty?

is love worth destroying something sacred?

start with that. then attach aesthetic scenes to it.

🧩 pro tip: aesthetic scenes are more powerful when they contradict or complicate your emotional throughline.

ex: your story’s about loneliness? show them at the loudest, busiest party. story’s about grief? show them smiling in photos while everything breaks behind the lens.

aesthetic is stronger with irony. contrast. juxtapositions. don’t just bathe the reader in vibes. weaponize them.

💥 3. let your aesthetic hurt your characters

whatever your aesthetic is--soft academia, vaporwave horror, regency witchcore, don’t make it just a backdrop. make it an obstacle.

your setting should create problems. friction. conflict.

if it’s a sleepy coastal town: what’s festering beneath the quiet?

if it’s a hauntingly beautiful forest: what does it take from people?

if it’s a cursed mansion: what happens to the girls who stay too long?

every time you design a pretty place or moody visual, ask: ❓ how does this setting test my characters’ beliefs or desires?

because then your aesthetic drives the story forward instead of just decorating it.

📚 4. develop plot like a playlist: structure the escalation

your aesthetic playlist has structure, right? (don’t lie. i know you’ve got a specific song for act 3 heartbreak.)

plot works the same way. it’s not a mystery. it’s escalation.

you want a structure? here’s a dead-simple one:

give your main character a desire (internal & external)

give them a reason they can’t have it (flaw, fear, lie)

make them try anyway (rising stakes)

make it cost them something (midpoint shift)

force them to change or break (climax)

let that change play out (falling action / resolution)

that’s it. apply that structure to your vibey little story and suddenly it’s a book.

👁‍🗨 5. plot is what they do - vibe is how it feels

don’t choose one. you can have both.

you can have a soft lighting scene on a rooftop and the secret betrayal reveal. you can have dreamy prose and broken character dynamics. you can give me worldbuilding so lush it smells like petrichor and rot and still give me a plot twist that leaves me feral.

you just need to be intentional.

every scene = a purpose. every aesthetic = an angle. every image = tied to stakes, desire, or change.

✨ that’s the difference between “ooh pretty” and “oh my god i can’t stop thinking about this story.” ✨

💌 so in conclusion:

start with an emotional arc

let your aesthetic scenes earn their place

make your world fight your characters

escalate, escalate, escalate

and stop hiding a lack of plot under “vibe” like a glittery throw blanket over a broken chair

you’ve got this. now go write the beautifully messy, aesthetic and emotionally devastating story you were meant to.

i believe in you.

🧃rin t.

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

Good morning, Upper East Siders. Looks like history has a funny way of repeating itself.

Or maybe it never ended — it just got a new generation of players.

You may be wondering what our favorite group of upper east siders has been doing all these years. Especially, what have they been doing without Gossip Girl?

Spotted: A new generation of wealthy, scandalous, and playfull teens waiting to have their lives exposed by yours truly.

Ava Bass, daughter of the Waldorf-Bass Legacy, perfection runs in her blood - but so does ambition. The problem with being raised to rule? The crown often feels too heavy.

Julian Humphrey, son of Dan and Serena, the golden couple have themselves a golden boy. Julian is everything his father wasn't and his mother is, charming, brilliant, yet dangeroulsy observant. Rumor has it, he has been writing more than just essays...

Noah Archibald, the prince of Manhattan, always by his father's side. Yet, his heart hides something, and some secrets don't survive election year.

Zoe Rhodes, LA's wild child, daughter of New York's favorite con artist, Ivy Dickens, who changed her last name to Rhodes. Zoe is here to turn Constance into her Hollywood, will she last in the spotlight?

Lastly, Luca Morales, do you miss the nickname Lonely Boy, I don't know why but if the shoe fits...The nickname from Brooklyn will stay.

The heirs of the Upper East Side are here, and they’re not playing by their parents’ rules.

Looks like history just found a new generation to ruin.

Welcome back to the playground, darlings.

It started with a whisper.

WayneTech sensors kept detecting non-human energy spikes across Gotham — cold, electric, impossible. At first, Bruce thought it was magic. Then Constantine took one look at the readings and turned pale.

“That’s not magic, mate. That’s something older.”

A week later, the Cave lights flickered. Every screen flashed static, every camera froze. And when they came back on — Someone else was there.

Not in the suit. Not in the system. But in the reflection.

A boy. Maybe sixteen. White hair, green eyes glowing like Lazarus fire.

He smiled at Bruce from the monitor, sharp and knowing.

“You should’ve let her rest.”

The League thought it was a ghost. Tim thought it was an AI. Jason thought it was karma.

But Bruce— Bruce recognized the name in the encrypted message that appeared in his files later that night.

Subject: Danielle Fenton. Status: Deceased (Classified).

Selina never told him. Never told anyone that her family had buried a sister years before she ran from them. Never told him that her real last name wasn’t Kyle.

And when the boy appeared again, phasing through the Cave wall, Bruce understood.

This wasn’t an attack. It was a warning.

“You’re marrying a ghost’s sister,” he said. “And the Infinite Realms don’t like to share what’s theirs.”

Now the shadows of Gotham hum with ectoplasmic light. Mirrors whisper when the Bat walks by. And every night, a voice from the other side murmurs:

(because a brand built on chaos eventually collapses under its own weight)

The City Girls started with fire:

loud, fun, unapologetic Miami energy —

a “get money, live fast” feminine identity people ate up.

And for a moment?

It WORKED.

They had:

• the summer anthems

• the party girl aesthetic

• the meme culture

• the Instagram influence

• the early TikTok wave

But somewhere between the scandals, the branding gimmicks, and the personal drama overshadowing the music — the City Girls went from “movement” to “mess.”

Let’s talk about the rise…

and the fall.

⸻

1. The City Girls brand was always built on lifestyle, not artistry.

Their appeal was never bars and lyricism — it was:

• aesthetic

• personality

• chaos

• rawness

• humor

• attitude

They sold “the lifestyle.”

But here’s the catch:

a lifestyle brand can’t survive when the lifestyle becomes unbelievable.

As fame grew:

• the music didn’t evolve

• the persona stayed surface-level

• the shock value wore off

When your entire brand is “act up, get snatched up”…

people expect evolution eventually.

⸻

2. Their individual controversies overshadowed the music.

Both women had public headline moments that became bigger than their art.

JT:

• Known for explosive Twitter rants

• Constantly arguing with fans, blogs, and other rappers

• Developing a reputation for being confrontational online

This made her go viral more for drama than discography.

Yung Miami (Caresha):

• Her highly public relationship with Diddy drove way more conversation than her music

• The messy public situation became a meme

• People began focusing on her life, not her craft

Both became tabloid personalities instead of musicians.

And once fans start following the drama instead of the music?

The music becomes optional.

⸻

3. The audience changed — but they didn’t.

The hot-girl wave came and went.

People matured.

Female rap evolved.

Women wanted:

• actual lyricism

• versatility

• vulnerability

• storytelling

• longevity

• good albums

Meanwhile the City Girls stayed in one lane:

• party music

• club anthems

• surface-level content

So they got stuck in the very era they created.

⸻

4. Their brand wasn’t relatable anymore.

You can’t rap about “scamming n*ggas”

while dating billionaires

and living in mansions

and flying private jets.

The fantasy broke.

The authenticity cracked.

Listeners felt the disconnect.

⸻

5. Their music performance started slipping.

You even said it yourself:

“They make party music that isn’t pulling numbers like other female rappers.”

That’s because their formula didn’t evolve while other women diversified:

• Ice Spice mastered aesthetic marketing

• Doja Cat evolved musically

• Megan established consistency

• GloRilla tapped authenticity

• Latto tapped mainstream appeal

• Flo Milli tapped internet culture

Meanwhile City Girls doubled down on the same early-2019 vibe.

⸻

6. Their chemistry and unity started looking… off.

Fans noticed:

• less joint interviews

• less coordinated branding

• different artistic directions

• less promo together

• energy shifts on stage

The “duo” branding started to feel forced.

Once the audience senses disconnect, it’s over.

⸻

7. Pop culture moved beyond the “scam girl aesthetic.”

That whole wave —

luxury flexing, Birkin obsession, “F boys get no money” —

peaked.

People grew up.

Entertainment matured.

Even TikTok humor evolved.

The audience wanted depth —

and the City Girls stayed strictly surface.

⸻

8. Meanwhile, controversies kept piling — and overshadowing everything.

The Diddy situation especially dominated headlines.

Not getting into unverified accusations — but the public mess, the optics, and the overall chaos damaged her brand.

Because suddenly people were not laughing with her…

they were laughing at her.

When your persona becomes a meme, the music suffers.

⸻

9. The City Girls never established a solid core fanbase.

This is the biggest factor.

Their audience was:

• casual listeners

• social media users

• viral-moment enjoyers

NOT dedicated fans who stick around for albums.

Compare that to:

• Nicki

• Megan

• Cardi

• Doja

• SZA

Those women have fanbases, not just “listeners.”

When the hype slowed, the City Girls had no foundation to stand on.

⸻

Final Message: The Rise Was Loud — The Fall Was Predictable

The City Girls didn’t fall because they were “bad artists.”

They fell because the machine they built was:

• unstable

• image-based

• controversy-driven

• one-dimensional

• drama-reliant

They created a trend, but never evolved past it.

They sold an aesthetic, but never reinforced it with artistry.

They went viral, but never built loyalty.

Their story is a case study in how branding without growth collapses.

The industry changed…

but they didn’t.

And that’s how they went from the girls of the moment

No one has opened this book yet. Its pages wait—silent, untouched, like a mirror that does not reveal until you dare to face it.

Seen is not just a story. It is an encounter. It asks what happens when desire doesn’t turn away— but holds your gaze.

I'm trying to find any gunwook smut but there's no long fics. Can you write one pls💙🥺

Idol.gunwook and idol.fem.reader

HOLD ON TIGHT - Gunwook [ZB1]

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Warnings:

Gunwook x Female reader, winter au, dominant gunwook soft reader, sweetheart gunwook, lover gunwook, reader is his girlfriend, reader is suffering in cold lol

Word Count: ~700 words

Author's Note: I tried my best with my exams going on.....i hope its good enough 😭😭

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The cold bites at your cheeks as you trudge through the snow, your breath crystallizing in the frigid air. You've been out too long—foolishly long—and now your body is paying the price. Your fingers are numb inside your gloves, your legs heavy and unresponsive beneath layers of clothing that suddenly feel inadequate.

"Come here," Gunwook says softly, his voice cutting through the wind. He's already wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his chest. His body radiates heat, and you lean into him instinctively, seeking warmth like a plant seeks sunlight.

Back inside his apartment, he strips away your outer layers with careful hands, his dark eyes tracking your shivering form with concern. The heating is turned up high, but it's not enough. You're still trembling, your core temperature dangerously low.

"Bed," he murmurs, guiding you toward his bedroom. "We need to warm you up."

He wraps you both under the heavy comforter, his body pressed against yours. His skin is warm—almost hot—and you burrow into him, seeking every point of contact. His arms circle you, one hand splayed across your back, the other tangled in your hair. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and strong.

"Better?" he whispers into your hair.

You nod, but you're still shaking. Gunwook shifts, his leg sliding between yours, his thigh pressing against your core. The friction sends a spark of warmth through you that has nothing to do with the cold outside.

"Still cold," you murmur, and you feel him smile against your temple.

"Then let me help," he says, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

His hands begin to move—slowly, deliberately—mapping the landscape of your body. He peels away the last of your clothing, and instead of the shock of cold air, there's only his warmth. His lips find your neck, your collarbone, the soft curve where your shoulder meets your throat. He's gentle but insistent, his touch igniting something deep within you.

"Gunwook," you breathe, and he responds by pulling you closer, his body fitting against yours like they were made for this.

He moves over you, his weight settling between your thighs. His eyes search yours for permission, and when you nod, he enters you slowly, filling you completely. There's no rush—just the deliberate slide of his body into yours, the friction building heat from the inside out.

"You're still so cold," he murmurs, and he begins to move, each thrust generating warmth, each gasp you make echoing his own. His skin is slick with sweat now, his breathing ragged against your neck. Your hands dig into his shoulders, his back, pulling him deeper.

The cold is completely forgotten now. Your body is burning, alive, every nerve ending singing with sensation. Gunwook's pace quickens, his movements becoming less controlled, more urgent. He whispers your name against your skin like a prayer, like a promise.

"Warm now?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes," you gasp, and it's true. You're burning from the inside out, consumed by him, by this, by the intensity of his touch and the way he looks at you like you're the only thing that matters.

He pushes deeper, and you meet him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The tension builds, coils tighter, until finally it snaps. You come undone beneath him, your body convulsing with pleasure, and he follows moments later, burying himself deep inside you as he finds his own release.

Afterward, you lie tangled together, his body still draped over yours, his breathing gradually slowing. Outside, the snow continues to fall, the wind howling against the windows. But here, wrapped in his arms, in the warmth of his body and the comfort of his presence, you're safe.

"Warm?" he asks again, this time with a soft smile.

You nod against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin. "Very warm."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you drift off to sleep in his arms, completely and utterly content.

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THE END~~

Requests are open!! I’m like a ChatGPT. It feels difficult to work without a prompt. Feel free to gimme your suggestions.

Peace out!!

avancer sans douter

marcher

et appeler cela

« la vie »

moi, je m’arrêterai

j’avancerai lentement

parce que les choses fausses

ne peuvent pas imiter le bon moment

-Âme Atlas

A dream is a delicate form of future memory.

Something within us already knows where we belong — even if reason hasn’t found the path there yet.

Humans are born with the ability to see, in their mind’s eye, what doesn’t yet exist.

This is the gift of imagination — and the curse of persistence.

For those who dream are also condemned to struggle.

They live between what is and what ought to be.

And that gap… it hurts.

But abandoning the dream is not rest — it is a different kind of death.

A quiet, inward death that comes not suddenly,

but through the slow fading of possibility.

Do not give up on what pulls you forward just because the road is hard.

Difficulty is not proof of failure, but a sign that the dream is worthy.

That you are becoming someone strong enough to hold it.

Remember:

Not everything that moves makes noise.

And not everything silent is standing still.

A dream is not measured by the speed of its fulfillment,

But by the depth of your persistence.

And those who persist — reshape the world,

even if at first, only their own.

And if you’re reading this now, know this is no accident.

Hope still exists.

The future you long for is still waiting.