#considering the general reaction to when the theme is present in fiction

[zeroducks-2]

"You've got to be nice to people with demonized mental illnesses 🥺 If you experience delusions and hallucinations and intrusive thoughts I love you and you are safe with me UwU"

Yall couldn't handle Jimmy Mouthwashing and act like James Sunderland was the antichrist.

[runcriedthecrawlingif]

I just read the entirety of the current build, and wow, this is one of the strangest WIPs I've ever read (positive).

The setting is absolutely fascinating, and I love Faren and Kal so much I don't even know how to express it! They are both so awesome! I also like the MC's personality a lot. A MC with a somewhat set personality can be very hit or miss obviously, but it's a big hit in this case, since clearly their personality allows for interesting growth. The way we can still fine-tune their mindset and what they value is also a nice thing. Like mine is bold and sarcastic, but cares a lot about people and always thinks before acting and tries to negociate before fighting.

I did encounter two situations I think were bugs though. Like I said, my MC is very charismatic and has a silver tongue - that's what I've been focusing on every time it was possible. But in two instances, it seems the game considered my MC isn't charismatic? - The first one, I'm not sure if it's a mistake or not, but if it isn't, it seems a bit out of character: when playing the truth or fiction game with Reva in chapter 2, I've picked the option to tell the truth hoping to fool her into thinking it's fiction, but she figured it out - I think it's an instance where a charismatic MC should be able to fool her, right? And also, slightly unrelated, but when she figures it out she says "That's fact. The blush on your face says it all.". But would she notice that with the very unique lighting coming from the bioluminescence? And even then, on darker skintones it would be invisible anyway, most likely. - Second instance is a bug for sure: during the hilenite fight in chapter 5, but this one is evidently some sort of coding error. If I try to taunt the leader, no matter if it's on the attack or the evade path, I have this:

Considering this is my MC's specialty, it should have worked? I mean, the fact the game says "it's never worked for you before" doesn't make sense. This is a screenshot from the Evade path, but on the Attack one it's the same issue.

Oh and also, there's a typo (or well, some stray code, rather) here:

That aside, a few theories I have, because why not:

The whole rot theme makes sense since, judging by the name of the "gods" they are related to fungi and thus, rot is part of it.

MC's nightmare with their mother is a memory, not a mere nightmare, and whatever she did to the MC in that memory, it "protects" them against the "gods". A lot of fungi are parasitic and I think the bond people make with gods is basically the gods being parasites that control their hosts to a degree. The MC must have some sort of protection against that now.

The "flowers" the MC has to interact with and is supposed to "feed" with their blood are all part of a huge interconected organism linked to the gods, and this is what the "path" is. Normally, I guess the nutrients from the person's who undertakes the Path blood probably create some sort of reaction of revitalization that makes more "flowers" (or whatever) bloom alongside the "veins" that link the organism, until they reach the core of it where the actual "gods" are. But since the MC is poisonous to them, the blood produces a decay instead. But since these veins are present anyway, the "Path" - as in, the visual representation - is still visible, but doesn't appear as it should since what should be revitalized dies instead.

The sheen over the grass and various other elements of the story make me think these "gods" are vulnerable to metal in general, and that whatever the MC does now is somehow related to that.

The character other than the MC that we can name seems to appear as "Vein" on the character screen before you set a name for them... It's uncannily the same word that the one I was thinking about when I was trying to understand the Path, and that sort of lead me to think they may be one of the "gods", or at the very least a "byproduct" of sorts. Also, the way they are described as so beautiful and what not is similar not only to the description of the entity in MC's dreams (and rejecting the entity lowers their relationship score, besides), but also to the way the entity in Kal's "dream" was described.

That leads me to wonder if Kal didn't already "bond" with a "god" in the past. I somehow feel like they came in contact with something they shouldn't have, and they fell victim to the parasite. That could explain why they were in favor to the stranger joining - if said stranger is indeed a "god" or part of that organism, Kal may not be able to refuse them, physically.

Aaand I think that'll be it! I'm not expecting you to answer to my theories of course, but I hope you at least find them entertaining. I rarely think so deeply about all implications and possible reasons behind what's happening in a story (more often than not, I'm just in for the ride and enjoy), but this is really too fascinating not to think more deeply about.

This is honestly super helpful, I won't say anything about the theories for reasons but I love hearing them anyways.

For the charisma bugs (including lying to Reva because there was already a variation in there), I am a fool who types too fast and has a peppering of $charimsa variables in my code. They should be fixed by today.

As for the MC with semi-set personality... As much as I want players to be able to have agency over who their heir is, I think for the purpose of character growth and developing relationships, there are some things that do need to be set. Like the fact that the heir has grown up having to prove themselves. Or the way their relationships with their mentors/parents shaped them.

[dipperdesperado]

How to Turn an Idea into a Story

Once you’ve generated an awesome story idea to pursue, the next thing to do is to flesh it out, so that you can actually write the story. If you’re like me, and you need to have a little bit of structure in place before you draft, then I have an idea I want to present to you. The foundation of this idea is the MICE Quotient, a storytelling framework with rules that help you tell cohesive narratives. By combining that with the idea of Elemental Genres (which was imparted to me by the amazing Writing Excuses Podcast), you get a framework that incorporates more story elements, specific to the genre(s) you’re using.

Steps

The general steps to use this framework are:

Create your story prompt using divergent and convergent thinking (I made a post about a potential process for this)

Think about the Elemental Genres of the story

Think about the MICE elements of the story (I made a post about a potential process for this)

Think about the elemental subgenres

Bring it all together

Step One: Getting the story prompt

Using the methods of idea generation and idea synthesis, figure out a basic idea of what your story is going to be. By the end, you end up with something resembling a logline or short paragraph synopsis (or something in between). For inspiration, you can look at stories in the public domain, the news, your own life, and other art, the options are endless.

Step Two: Choosing Elemental Genres

Elemental genres aren’t what we traditionally consider story genres. When I hear the word genre, I think of things like Science Fiction, Drama, Buddy Cop, etc. There’s some overlap name-wise between elemental genres and the traditional idea of genre, but they represent different things. Genres as we think of them usually are meant more to classify for the sake of the audience…it’s more of a categorization tool. Elemental genres are meant to bundle certain emotional responses to that story. A particular elemental genre is decided by the ideas that the story presents AND the emotions that stories in that elemental genre try to illicit. Also, note that elemental genres are used to tell stories in traditional genres. As an example, Science Fiction stories prescribe more to the themes, settings, and characters than an elemental genre would. A SF story could have any of the elemental genres, and any of the elemental genres can be used in the SF context.

The elemental genres are wonder, idea, adventure, horror, mystery, thriller, humor, relationship, drama, issue, and ensemble. You can probably come up with more using story analysis, but that’ll do for now.

Choosing your story’s foundational elemental genre requires you to look at your idea and think about what overall emotions you’re trying to get from the audience. If it’s a sense of awe, then your story’s main elemental genre is a wonder. If your story is about the limits of human physical ability, then it’s an adventure story. Each elemental genre elicits its own emotions.

To make sure that this is clear, I’ll use the example of elemental horror versus traditional horror. If you were to ask the point of a horror movie, it would be to cause fear. You might say that for one that has elemental horror, or is just broadly in the horror genre. The power of elemental horror allows you to understand what makes a horror movie tick, and apply that in new, other contexts. Horror in the traditional genre sense will usually fall into the monster, slasher, or psychological camps, and while there can be unique takes on these, they are all working from more surface levels of inspiration. Elemental horror can be a completely different kind of experience. An elemental horror story can be one where the protagonist(s) have to generally deal with horrible things, and we see their reaction to it and hope for the best while the story doesn’t really give us strong signals that things will end up okay. In this context, seemingly silly things can become horrifying given the right character context and reactions.

For more detail on specific genres, I have a document that I’ll link here with the elemental genres and describe how to use them.

Step Three: MICE Elements

Now, we start to get into actual story events. I have a longer explanation of the MICE quotient here, but the basic idea is that the MICE quotient is relating to four different elements of the story. M is for Milieu, which is the location where story events happen. I is for Inquiry, which is a driving question for the story that a character has. C is for Character and relates to some character flaw a character has and their journey to overcome it. E is for event and relates to something that happens in the world of the story that disrupts the status quo, and the character(s) journey to restore that status quo.

Think of mice elements like nesting dolls, holding your story in the middle. If you start the story with a MICE element, you have to end it with that same element. The second element gets resolved second to last. And it just continues, for as many of the elements as you decide to use.

In my post about the MICE Quotient, I go into more specifics on how to use it.

Step Four: Elemental Subgenres

Elemental subgenres are incorporating the parts or aspects of one elemental genre in the story that is primarily of another elemental genre. If our story is primarily an elemental adventure story, which is focused on the physical challenges driving the narrative, a subgenre implementation could be an elemental issue, where the adventure has a subplot of a greater political conflict that underscores the physical challenges. Subgenres can vary in amount and importance; they can be as short as a moment or span most of the story. Subgenres are used to enhance the narrative and build off of the themes and ideas of the MICE elements and primary elemental genres.

My Example

I’m going to bring all of these steps together by using this process for a story idea I have. The initial idea is: A god/deity falls in love with a human, and this union creates an equalization; the god loses some godliness, which is gained by the human. They both become equivalent in power to demigods.

Step One: Story Prompt

Through my story idea development process (explained in detail here), I came up with this story prompt: The worlds of gods and humans are ruled by centralized, hierarchical power structures that provide unsustainable decadence for the oligarchs at the expense of everyone else. One god and one human see each other as a haven to experience freedom from their current realities. The solidification of their relationship leads to them both becoming demigods, disrupting the status quo. To preserve themselves and their relationship, they have to contend against both worlds. Part of this involves sneaking into a council between the gods and humans and using the neutrality of the meeting to plead their cause.

Step Two: Primary Elemental Genre

Based on this description, I want the elemental genre to be drama. Drama is focused on the growth of the characters, and how that impacts the world. I pick this one because while the prompt lends itself well to the elemental romance genre, I want the story to be focused less on the trials and tribulations that the couple has with each other, and more on how their union causes hardship for them as partners, in opposition to the status quo.

Step Three: MICE

Now, with the idea and main elemental genre in tow, I can input the MICE elements to create the skeleton of my story.

<Xₓ> is opening/introducing an element

</Xₓ> is closing/resolving an element

<C₁> The god and the human protagonists long to be together corporally. The god can astral project to the human, but can’t easily come to our world. They want this because the closest thing they know to true happiness is each other.

<E₁> The two are able to meet in person due to a transgressive plan they craft together. This sets off a chain of events, transforming them both into demigods.

<I₁> The couple has to figure out how to survive and find a new life against both angry gods and jealous humans

</I₁> The couple meets a pocket of little-known dissenters to the hierarchical nature of the worlds they come from. Gods and humans from all backgrounds living in harmony show them that there is a possibility for a future centered around equality and solidarity.

</E₁> The couple are able to carve out a stable peace in the world, separate from the fighting both sides had to do in order to be together.

</C₁> The two finally achieve that real happiness they were looking for, not only from their love which has been forged in fire but the community that they’ve built along the way for this journey.

Notice how the elements are set up like nesting dolls; they have their own order that has to be followed.

Step Four: Subgenres

The secondary genre of the story that I want to explore is issue. Issue is all about a topic being discussed through the story. An issue element that will enhance the primary elemental genre is the exploration of the influence of hierarchy and power consolidation on the protagonists. We’ll see different points of view on the topic, and different philosophies will clash to challenge our protags and make them think critically about their worldview and the motivations behind it. Relationship, Humor, and Thriller would also be big subgenres.

All together:

<Drama>

<Issue>

<C₁> The god and the human protagonists long to be together corporally, as the god can astral project to the man, but can’t easily come to our world. They want this because the closest thing they know to true happiness is each other.

<E₁> The two are able to meet in person due to a transgressive plan they craft together. This sets off a chain of events, transforming them both after they hook up into demigods.

<Thriller>

<I₁> The couple has to figure out how to survive and find a new life against both angry gods and jealous humans

</I₁> The couple meets a pocket of little-known dissenters to the hierarchical nature of the worlds they come from. Gods and humans from all backgrounds living in harmony show them that there is a possibility for a future centered around equality.

<Humor>

<Humor>

</E₁> The couple is able to carve out a stable peace in the world, separate from the fighting both sides had to do in order to be together.

</Thriller>

</C₁> The two finally achieve that real happiness they were looking for, not only from their love which has been forged in fire but the community that they’ve built along the way for this journey.

</Issue>

</Drama>

One thing that I want to note is that while the MICE elements have to nest in a particular way, the same isn’t true for elemental subgenres. Elemental subgenres can show up as flashes in the story, appearing and disappearing within a single scene. They also don't necessarily have to close in a specific order like MICE elements

Conclusion

From here, I usually flesh out different characters, then I write a scene-by-scene outline. If you tend to explore more through drafting, you can start writing here, or plan out scenes in more detail—whatever works best for your process!

If you want more information on each elemental genre, I can’t recommend season 11 of Writing Excuses enough. This is one of the best things I’ve found in my creative writing journey. My own notes for the season are here. Anyway, I enjoyed coming up with this story idea. Now it’s time to get back to writing my current story!

[thevisibilityarchives]

The Expanse [TV Series] (2015-2022)

Network(s): SyFy, Amazon

Creators: James S.A. Corey

BIPOC

Summary: 200+ years in the future, humanity has ventured into the far reaches of the solar system, colonizing the Milky Way and spreading the political turmoil of Earth among the generations to come. A fragile peace exists among the three factions that arise, a peace that cannot last when something greater emerges that threatens them all, changing the course of humanity for all time to come. 

Full review: For every generation, there is a defining sci-fi television show that captivates audiences, tapping into visions of the near future while simultaneously managing to address modern sociopolitical themes and changing mores. 

Can The Expanse be ranked as one of those shows, among the likes of Star Trek, Firefly, and Battlestar Galactica? Undoubtedly, it’s a question deserving of consideration and debate.

In a time before streaming, the impact would be more obvious thanks to ever-present television ratings data, fights over family television screens, and demands for network advertising time. But when a show exists solely within the realm of the digital sphere, on a streaming service like Amazon Prime, there’s a bit more nuance to consider when judging its success and audience impact. 

Conceived by authors Ty Franck and Daniel Abraham under the pen name James S.A. Corey, The Expanse originally aired on the SyFy network in 2015, a high-budgeted adaptation of their book series that was well-received by critics and audiences alike until its early demise (due to said budget) at the end of its second season. With a bit of luck, the show was picked up by Amazon Prime studios, given the Jeff Bezos Budget, the TV-MA stamp of adultification freedom, and was renewed, allowing it to take off for the remaining four seasons which concluded in 2022. 

The series retains the core features beloved by sci-fi fans, the formula complicit in defining those generational sci-fi hits: space exploration, the imaginativeness of the near future, the role of politics, and perhaps a central and often missed detail – its diversity and multiculturalism. 

There is a sharp division between the science fiction and fantasy crowds when it comes to multicultural representation. Often, the two genres are clumped together, their metadata schema combined as one – sci-fi/fantasy. Yet within these two genres, the approach to racial and cultural diversity could not be more different. 

This reaction has never been more pronounced than in the past year, during the airing of Prime’s Rings of Power and HBO’s House of the Dragon. Both shows cast actors of color into roles wherein the networks, as well as actors themselves, received criticisms, not for their performances, but simply for the color of their skin.

Commenting upon reactions to Stephen Toussaint, who portrays Corlys Velaryon in House of the Dragon the LA Times reported

“Toussaint is just the latest actor of color to address the racism he faced just for being cast in a major property. Others include Moses Ingram of Disney+ series “Obi-Wan,” and Kelly Marie Tran and John Boyega who dealt with similar online abuse over their roles in the newer “Star Wars” films.”

The vitriol has extended beyond just message board gripes, with actors and fans of color alike receiving flooded inbox messages and even in-person harassment over their simple existence in various fandoms as people of color. 

There is something of an irony here. For fantasy, which is rooted mostly in imagination (with some inspiration from real-life events) seemingly has set up a world where all manner of monsters, magic, and scenarios can be envisioned: and yet a black elf, a brown knight, or an Asian queen magician cannot. Whereas sci-fi, often depicted within the confines of near-future scenarios, has historically been more flexible, even to the point of breaking immense taboos like The Kiss Seen Around the World on Star Trek, only a year after interracial marriage became legal in the United States. 

This emphasis on multiculturalism, combined with the glory of high-stakes drama, the exploration of the final frontier, and the imaginings of what technology still can be creates a formula that appeals across multiple generations still today, a tapestry of impossibility, variability, and sensibility. 

Over the course of six seasons, what begins as a hard-boiled detective seeking to return a trillionaire’s daughter who has joined up with a group of anarchists in the far-flung reaches of the solar system unfolds into a whirlwind of high-stakes political machinations, doomsday scenarios, and interpersonal drama. 

Keeping in touch with an examination of what upward trends of the future tell us, the lives of those depicted onscreen are flush with different types of diversity. Multiracialism is prominent in certain parts of the solar system, Creole dialects are a natural development. Polyamory, new ways of eating, body types,  and religious ideologies emerge. Unlike other media which often falls out of date quickly when looking at the way trends have aligned with the passage of time, The Expanse follows what thus-far seems to be a natural trajectory of what our path looks like (assuming we are still alive by then). Its actors range from Caucasian-American to Iranian, Samoan, Ojibwe, Cambodian, Black, multiracial, Jamaican, and ethnicities far and wide. 

The show is heavily rooted (and its source material, by extension) in the very definition of what multiculturalism is and can be, and a prime example of a thoughtful and true representation of all television sci-fi has given us and shows us is possible: a world in living color in which reality is possible, and no one can tell us otherwise. 

You can find hard copies of seasons 1-4 of The Expanse at major retailers, your local library,  some copies of seasons 5 and 6 via online sellers like eBay and stream it on its home, Amazon Prime here.

Citations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirk_and_Uhura%27s_kiss

https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2022-08-22/dragons-being-more-plausible-than-a-rich-black-guy-irks-house-of-the-dragon-star

https://www.history.com/topics/black-history/loving-v-virginia

[honeymoonjin]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

Genre: Romance, a splash of angst

Summary: Raised on a faraway island with no trace of modern life, Kim Taehyung must be the most isolated man on the planet. And perhaps you’re the most naive person for choosing to leave the world behind and join him.

Word count: 30.8k

AN: the location where this fic takes place is fictional, as well as any historical facts presented. Mentions of violence on a large scale, not done by or involving the main characters. The title comes from the phrase which means “a clean slate” or the lack of preconceived ideas. I originally heard it from a Bjork song by the same name which talks about wanting to give her child and children in general a clean slate from the “fuck-ups of the fathers”. You’ll see that both these themes play pretty heavily in this fic.

You swallow down the knot in your throat as the bespectacled man in front of you reads leisurely through your resume, one hand mulling at his chin.

“You’re currently unemployed?”

You start at the sudden question, but dip your head in a hasty nod. “That’s right, sir.” Your eyes roam over him as he makes no indication of acknowledgement bar a single deep breath, flipping over the single page. You knew your stats weren’t particularly impressive; you’d been shocked when the agency had even responded to your application in the first place, desperate enough to apply but without any real hope of employment. Now, with your apartment lease coming up and no money to extend it, you were terrified that you might mess it up.

“As you know, the job listing asked for candidates with a versatile skill set,” the man begins, focusing a sharp gaze on you.

You shift. “Well, uh, I’m very proficient in Microsoft Office 365, I’ve had a lot of customer service experience and also-”

With a twitch of his brow, the grey-haired man swiftly cuts you off. “I had one of my men attend your most recent performance at the Blue Velvet Lounge,” he states, leaning back in his leather chair to appraise your reaction.

It takes you a moment to even decipher him, as simple as his sentence was. In all the years you’d helped out at your friend’s club, you never considered playing the piano in the background as performing, though that wasn’t the part your mind was snagged on. “I- That wasn’t in my resume, sir.”

“Neither was your home address or lack of familial relations, but home security tends to find these things out.” Your eyes dart to the door of the office, still shut but not locked, and the interviewer lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m not saying this to threaten or intimidate you, Miss. But this job is very high clearance and we take our application process very seriously. Tell me; how long have you played the piano?”

“Since I was seven.” You try to take a deep breath in to steady your racing heart and your unanchored thoughts, but your lungs won’t seem to fill. “Why does the national security program need a pianist? I’m not even that good, I’ve never won any competitions or played in any proper orchestras-”

“Having any kind of renowned or famous individual in this role wouldn’t serve our purposes,” he answers shortly, avoiding the half of the question you were more curious to know. Instead, he reaches into a briefcase at his feet and pulls out several sheets of paper, stapled together. Laying it on the table and pushing it towards you, you recognise the title. “An NDA,” he explains, “like I said, this job is very high clearance. No unauthorised information can be taken in or let out. Even if you don’t accept the job, I cannot tell you more without this contract signed.”

Once he falls silent, you stare at him for a few moments, but he simply gestures wordlessly to the printed pages, until you pick them up and begin to read through. For the most part, it follows the regular beats of a non-disclosure agreement, but with a few mysterious additions. If you turned down the job, you’d be kept on surveillance for the rest of your life to ensure you didn’t expose details of the position. If you accepted it, the same would happen once you returned home upon completion of your contract.

“This is ridiculous,” you murmur, frowning at the document in front of you. “I’d be signing my entire right of privacy away.”

The man across from you is emotionless. “That’s why most people don’t sign.”

You narrow your eyes. “This isn’t seeming remotely worth it. Besides, the ad never stated the pay, only that it was above living wage.”

He nods once, hands interlaced on the table. “Our rate is twice the living wage.”

“That’s not even that much for what, a year’s contract? And then I’m back under Big Brother.”

“For the rest of your life-” he specifies. “Our rate is twice the living wage for the rest of your life. Of course, you’d be well within your right to still get another job should you continue to wish to work after that time. As a courtesy, we’d waive secondary income taxes.”

Goosebumps run down your body like a cold wave, and you attempt again to take in a deep breath. “So- you- this-” You clear your throat, eyes unable to leave the dotted line on the final page, awaiting your signature. “What’s the catch? Will I be in danger?”

“Not at all,” your potential employer responds. “Most people simply aren’t willing to comply with our requirements for privacy, so they don’t believe the reward is worth the risk. I’ll leave that choice up to you.” He reaches into the pocket of his pale blue button-down, retrieving a pen which he rests on the table beside your hand.

Almost instinctively, your fingers flex towards it, before pausing. “How– how long has it been since you’ve hired someone? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen your ad, it’s just the first time I’ve been desperate enough to apply.”

A muscle in his jaw pops as he fights a frown. “He’s been alone for three and a half years.” His mouth audibly claps shut after he’s finished, bushy brows furrowing together as if he’s said too much.

He? You can’t deny your curiosity is overwhelming. The job listing had indicated that you’d be working in a separate location outside the country, though it was never specified, and you knew you’d have to christen the NDA with ink before you’d find out.

It’s not curiosity that emboldens you to pick up the pen, however. The strongest emotion in your chest as you sign your future to them is empathy. He’s been alone for three and a half years.

For the first time since you’d sat down across from him, the man smiles. Age crackles the skin around his eyes as he does so, but it brightens his features and you naturally return it as he stretches his arm out to you for a handshake. “Jung Minhyuk. A pleasure to finally be introduced.” You give him a warm smile, but your lack of reaction otherwise makes him chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry, I should be more specific. I’m the director of the Korean National Intelligence Service. Y/n, we’d be happy to have you. Come.”

He releases the firm handshake with a quick bow and gestures towards the door of his office, leading you out. As you make your way through a narrow hallway, ducking around harried office workers with handfuls of photocopying or phones tucked between their ear and shoulder, you can’t help but feel a little confused.

Director Jung, surprisingly personable for his high ranking, notices the way you frown at the nondescript facility, and feints back to walk at your side, leaning in with a low, conspiratory voice. “This isn’t our headquarters, of course, we’re not even in the right country! Every now and again, we move offices to a new city if we find no luck in the current one. To be honest, I really shouldn’t even be here, but I just feel more comfortable handling recruitment for this myself. You’ll understand, I’m sure. Here; this way.”

Though you certainly don’t understand, and are beginning to feel a little overwhelmed, the director’s complete change of personality is actually rather reassuring, like he’s genuinely appreciative of your willingness to sign. You follow him into a meeting room down the end of the office floor, where a much younger man awaits, fiddling with an overhead projector and a battered-looking laptop. He looks up when the door shuts behind the two of you, and beams. Immediately, you can see a striking resemblance between the two of them in the slope of their nose and their bright smiles. Though the director’s hair is grey with age, the young man has rich brown locks, cropped short on the sides but hanging over his brow a little.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet your liaison for this job, and my son, Jung Hoseok.”

You reach out for a handshake, which he grabs with both hands and shakes enthusiastically, greeting you before indicating you could take a seat. His father doesn’t sit, instead bidding the two of you farewell, leaving Hoseok to lock the door and join you at the table.

“What a day, huh!” He laughs, eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “We were certain this would be a bust. It’s been so long since anyone has even taken this offer up. I don’t blame them, of course, but boy are they missing out!”

You let out a surprised laugh at the bold energy the director’s son has, before he clears his throat and pulls up the first slide onto a screen at the front of the room. It’s simply a long code of letters and numbers, presumably pertaining to the job you’d be filling, and Hoseok stands up, brushing his blazer lapel and taking a decisive huff of air.

“Okay, please excuse any technical difficulties that may arise, it’s been a very long time since this laptop has been taken out. We don’t even bother, usually, since everyone says no, but you were our most promising candidate in a while.”

You tip your head to the side. “Why is that? I thought I was pretty underqualified for a government job.”

Hoseok pauses, biting onto his lip. “Uh… No offence to you, but the people that apply are usually already in a well-paying government job, and their stability makes them more risk averse. Dad thought that your money struggles and low qualifications would make you more likely to take a chance on us. Sorry.”

Blinking, you try to let the stab of indignation go, focusing on the presentation slide. “Right. That’s... okay. I am looking forward to getting some answers, though.”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Hoseok hurriedly flicks through a couple of official-looking slides bunched with legal text and classified stamps until he stops on a grainy photo of a rather large, official-looking building with Korean signage, one corner of the building orange with flame, and billowing grey smoke pouring out of the windows everywhere else. Hoseok sobers up, frowning at the picture. “How well do you know your history?” he asks softly.

“Not well,” you admit, your voice going quiet to instinctively match his.

“April 12th, 1996. The President of South Korea at the time, Im Do-kwon, gets re-elected for another term. His competitor, Kim Sanghoon, claims the vote is fraudulent and hires three men to go into the Blue House where the President is residing and set fire to it. This was all meant to be concealed, of course, but his involvement is revealed, as well as the fact that the three men were gang affiliated. News stations begin digging over those long hours that it takes to extinguish the fire, and as more and more evidence of Kim’s alignment with that gang is revealed, he goes into a rage.”

Your heart falls into your stomach as Hoseok solemnly moves to the following side, a snapshot from a news outside, as a Korean reporter stands outside an elementary school covered in yellow police tape. “Oh my god,” you whisper without thinking, veins cold with dread.

“Instead of hiring more gang members - who by now are laying low and trying to avoid all interactions with the man - Kim takes his pyromaniac tendencies to the elementary school where the President’s children are. The school had been put on lockdown. All the children were still inside. Less than thirty survived the blaze, mostly teachers.”

It takes a steady breath and biting down hard on your tongue to prevent the urge to be sick, and your heart breaks when you see Hoseok dabbing at his eyes, sniffling slightly.

“Anyway,” he says in a hollow voice, quickly clicking away from the slide, where a family photo appears of a mother and father, the former cradling a swaddled newborn. “Kim was shot on sight by police once he aimed a firearm at the squad cars arriving, but he left behind a wife and infant son. A mid-ranking member in the NIS went to their home address to see the news playing on their television, and the wife dead in front of it. She’d suffered a fatal heart attack. The infant was still in his crib.”

Hoseok sinks into his chair again, eyes glazing over slightly as he recalls the story. “That NIS officer was my father. He’d been working up for the Director role for years at that point. Was close to the current one, too. The regular protocol would be to put the son up for adoption, or even into witness protection with a willing caregiver, but dad didn’t want to take that risk. If the son ever found out, or if anyone found out where the son was, his life would either be ruined or he’d be killed in some form of revenge. The president was very well-loved, you see. The fire hadn’t killed him, but the smoke in his lungs was severe enough that he never recovered, and didn’t even survive until the following election.”

“What happened to him?” you ask hoarsely. “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

“That son is in his late 20s now. We’re hiring you, Y/n, to teach him how to play the piano.”

You shake your head, disbelief resounding in your head. “I- what is going on? Where is he, how is he…”

“Still alive?” Hoseok reaches forward to change slides again. This one is an aerial shot of an island, lush with vegetation, from the single peak in the centre to the beaches that ring it. To the bottom of the island is what looks like a fairly large building, though you can’t make out much detail from the distance. “I-134340. Its original intention was to be an emergency location for any high ranking members of the Korean government if needed, but it was replaced with a more secure base in the early 90s. My father and the old director decided that the best way to give the son a full life was to remove him from the society that would be a danger to him. To keep him unaware of the crimes of his father. A small team of operatives that had experience in child rearing raised him until he was old enough to fend for himself, and since then we’ve been sending in people such as yourself with a skill to keep him occupied and, hopefully, creatively fulfilled.”

Your mouth falls open. Part of you feels like you’re in some absurd prank show, or a social experiment, but it’s so hard for you to believe that on that island, a man is all alone, entirely removed from the rest of the world. “So he just has to live his life out there forever? Wouldn’t he want to leave? Be a part of society?”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together, more somber than ever. “He- He doesn’t know modern society even exists.”

“What?”

“There’s no cell service, of course, no internet connection. But the base was originally built without any computers or even electricity to prevent any form of hacking. For our purposes, it’s safer that he has no grasp of current technology.”

You’re beginning to realise why the NDA was so oppressive. “That’s- that’s inhumane, keeping him in the dark ages like that!”

Hoseok’s brows furrow in sympathy. “It’s the best chance at a life we can give him. Ignorance is bliss. We send shipments of resources every two months. He has pets there to keep him company, he’s been taught several languages, including English and his native tongue, we’ve given him several books written before the modern age. He has access to a whole orchestra worth of instruments, we even allowed a record player for music. It’s not ideal, but…”

Hoseok grimaces suddenly, eying the locked door before leaning in closer to you. “It was intended to be temporary,” he admits in a low tone. “Just enough until there was some other disaster, or the world moved on. But South Korea is a relatively peaceful country, and the old director and my father underestimated just how hated Kim was. We haven’t even managed to hire a single person from South Korea to keep the son company. We don’t think they’re ever going to forget. So we have to stick with it, and give him the best life we can.”

“So you want me to go babysit a man who thinks it’s the 1800s or something? Teach him Mary Had a Little Lamb on the piano but act like I’ve never seen a light bulb before. Is that it?”

He sighs, sinking backwards into the desk chair. “My empathy keeps me working here, Y/n. I feel bad for the guy. He’s only a few years younger than me, and he’s living in his own fucked up version of the Truman Show. So I do what I can to make sure he’s happy there. Was it just financial need that made you sign that document, Y/n? Or are you willing to follow through to give him the right of human connection?”

“Do you have a photo of him?” you ask weakly, already half-knowing your answer. Already beginning to accept that you can’t just walk away. All you need is something real to keep you holding on.

Hoseok clears his throat and nods quickly, scrolling through a few slides of text that you don’t have time to read, before he stops on a black-and-white photo, slightly fuzzy at the edges. “Nothing digital, of course. This is from about six years ago, when we hired a German amateur photographer to bring this boxy old camera on stilts and teach him how to use it. Quite the looker, isn’t he?”

That he is, with raven-black curls, a sculpted face, and graceful poise, chin tipped up almost defiantly at the camera. But it’s not his good looks but rather the depths of his eyes that capture you. It’s a little hard to see with the low quality of the imagine, but his gaze is dim with sorrow. Your heart clenches. “When do I leave?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hoseok simply smiles for the first time in a few minutes, gratitude plain on his face. “Let’s get you ready.”

In the end, it takes several weeks before you’re allowed to board the ship that will take you to the island.

First, there’s the issue of basic survival. Kim Taehyung, the son raised in isolation, is used to living without electricity, without internet or microwaves or televisions. You, however, spend your first week on the job reading a hefty book on all the items you’ll have access to and how to live off them: cooking, washing, entertaining yourself - you’d need to learn to live without modernity.

Next, you spent a day being measured for new clothes. Taehyung wasn’t exactly dressing like a Victorian aristocrat, Hoseok quipped, but jeans certainly weren’t going to cut it. A lone seamstress specialising in historical garments was hired to fit you some dresses, tops, skirts, all the way down to a few nightgowns and underwear. All simple things for your benefit, blessedly with no corsets in sight, but once they were done you still had to spend some time getting used to dressing and undressing, and lifting your skirts when you walked. The little things, you were informed, were just as important in maintaining the fiction Kim Taehyung was living in.

Finally, you were tested on your proficiency in basic history and general knowledge, things that might come up. The last person to visit the island - a violinist - informed the NIS director that Taehyung was an avid reader, often requesting new novels when his shipments came, and that he would spend hours alone in his room, listening to his old record player late into the night. Like cramming for a test, you read the Sparknotes of Jules Verne, Shakespeare, Dickens; you spammed your Spotify with the likes of Mozart, Chopin, Vivaldi. You even spent one night googling popular painters from the 1800s.

As it happened, Taehyung hadn’t been given access to anything made later than 1879, and - where possible - any identification of the date of production had been removed. You’d been warned, about a quarter of the way into your information packet, not to mention any specific dates or times, and to not bring up politics or history whatsoever.

Shipments to the island came every two months. One would bring you on it, then you’d have two throughout your stay, and finally the fourth would bring you home. That meant if you wanted to communicate to Hoseok or anyone else while on the island, you’d have to write a letter (away from Taehyung’s eyes) and slip it to the ship’s captain when he came. If there was an emergency between times, nobody would help them, so you were highly discouraged from taking part in any risky activities.

By the time you’re shivering in the brisk winter breeze, stepping onto a docked ship, it’s been just under a month since you accepted the offer, and it still doesn’t feel real.

Pausing to tug his heavy coat around himself tighter, Hoseok - with his feet firmly planted on the dock - reaches out to pull you into a tight hug. You shift within his grip with the slight rocking of the ship, having to hunch over to match his level.

He’d been with you in every step of your training, and you had found it impossible not to become extremely endeared with him. You mumble a thanks into the lapel of his coat and he hums in acknowledgement.

“I wish we had more time to ease you into this,” he confesses, his breath hot on your neck. “But I know you’ll be just fine.” Hoseok squeezes you even tighter for just a moment before pulling away, giving you a sad smile. “Please be safe. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Likewise,” you admit, a curl of sadness sinking in your stomach at the thought of being separated from your newfound friend so soon after growing close to him. “I’ll be alright. I’ll look after him.”

Hoseok lets out a light laugh, resting his hand on the edge of the ship like he’s not quite ready to part with it. “I’m sure you will. Besides, if you need me, or need anything, just write a letter and give it to Seokjin. He’ll pass it on.”

You cock your head in confusion. “Seokjin?”

The voice that responds comes from behind you as Hoseok’s eyes lift above your shoulder. “At your service, Miss.”

You whirl around just as the newcomer presses himself beside you, your chests almost touching. He’s dashingly handsome, the type of good looks you’d expect to see on the screen or stage, but his overalls are so worn the buckles have rusted, his rubber boots are scuffed, and his hands as they reach past you are roughened with callouses.

As you suck in a breath and press yourself further onto the side of the entrance, he quirks both his brows at you with a cheeky smile. “‘pologies for reaching past you,” he drawls, beginning to undo the snag of rope coiled around a post on the dock. “We’re just about ready to set sail, little lady, so I’d suggest you find yerself somewhere comfortable to sit. Best spot is down that ladder there. I’m Jin, by the way. The Captain of this here vessel.”

You feel distinctly like you’ve stepped into another time with the way he acts and speaks, and your linen dress, high-necked and heavy-skirted, certainly doesn’t help.

It’s only the noise of Hoseok scoffing fondly and reaching forward to clap the captain on the shoulder that breaks you out of your momentary daze. In a sleek designer coat and modern undercut, he’s the dash of the real world that you need. “Come on now,” he chuffs, “you can drop the Ye Olde English. Let the poor girl adjust.”

Jin’s face lights up with a mischievous grin, all too proud at himself, but drops it with a sigh. When he speaks again, his voice is clear and airy like daylight, and you find it suits him far better. “Alright, sweetheart. Get out of the cold; I’ll get us on the way.”

You and Hoseok share one final farewell, before you hoist up your skirts in one hand and make your way to the aforementioned ladder. It’s one of two entrances on the ship’s deck; the first is a trapdoor swung open near the front, revealing what looks like crates and barrels stacked high, no doubt bringing necessary supplies to the island. The other, near the back, is a narrow opening with a wooden ladder disappearing down. It’s an effort to maneuver down the rungs with one hand free, unable to see your feet past the layers of fabric, but you manage, turning around to see the small cabin you’ve landed in.

It’s simple and cosy, retaining warmth far better than the deck, and you waste no time in finding a place to sit. There are two small couches on opposite sides of the room, with a short, bolted down table between them. One is clearly Jin’s, covered with piled up blankets, a ragged teddy bear and some strewn clothes. You chose to sit on the other couch, slipping off your brown leather shoes after a moment to tuck your feet up, sighing at the comfort it brings you.

Like you already have countless times today, you begin to grow overwhelmed at what lies ahead, at what you’ve agreed to do. Your few suitcases you’d been allowed to bring were in the hull already with the rest of the supplies, and you’d had to leave your cellphone with Hoseok in the car before you boarded. More so than anything else, it’s the lack of a phone in your hands or near you that draws up your anxiety, and you have to force deep breaths into your lungs to stay calm.

The ship begins to shift, and you turn your head to watch the single round window that lights the room as the coast slips out of view, replaced by an endless blue horizon. Thankfully the rhythmic rocking of the ship, as well as the acceptance of that open ocean, soothes you for the first hour or so.

By the time Jin joins you, you’re so relaxed that his loud entrance - skipping the rungs and just jumping straight down into the cabin - is enough to make you jump.

“She’s looking smooth out there,” he comments happily, launching himself back-first onto his couch, with his boots dangling off one end and his head propped on a pillow. “How you feeling, little lady?”

Even as he drops the cheesy accent, he keeps that nickname, and it has you smiling as you shrug. An automatic ‘good’ is on the tip of your tongue, but you pause, unable to commit to the lie. You lapse into silence trying to think of a satisfactory answer, barely able to navigate your own emotions, but Jin seems satisfied with the lack of response.

“It was like that for me too, don’t worry. It gets easier.” He lets out a fond breath, propping himself up on an elbow. “I started out just like you, going over for a short stint. He was nineteen, and he’d requested to learn fishing, since the island has some nice spots. I was hired, a poor fisherman’s poorer son. Someone talented enough but unremarkable. Mind you, I wasn’t much older than Taehyung at the time.”

Your interest is peaked, this being the first time you’d had the chance to speak to someone who’d walked the same path you were setting out on. “What was he like? Taehyung.”

“Mischief,” Jin responds without hesitation, eyes glazing over with memory. “Kept sneaking up on me to give me a fright, put too much pepper into my meals just to make me sneeze, or played music that he knew I didn’t like right into the early hours of the morning. Even grew better at fishing than me, the cheeky bugger.”

You think back to the black-and-white picture of Taehyung, with a serious face and lonely eyes. It’s hard to imagine him playing practical jokes, but Jin talks about it with so much love in his voice that you don’t doubt it for a second.

“Smart, too,” he continues, oblivious of whether you’re even still listening, “could quote Shakespeare like nobody’s business. He picked up on what I was teaching him just about faster than I could even teach it. We spent many of our evenings playing chess together, as his last instructor had brought him a set. I never won a single game.”

“He sounds like a really good person,” you say softly, not wanting to break Jin’s reverie.

He hums, eyes still distant. “I was meant to be signed onto a three month contract, get my money, and get outta there. But I found I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. I extended my contract to a year, and when I ultimately had to go, I replaced the old captain and took up the shipping route. But it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him. He just stands at his balcony when I deliver the supplies, far enough away that I can only just see his silhouette.” Jin sits up suddenly, eyes focusing in on you with a sharp stare. “I’m so glad you accepted this job, Y/n. I worry about how much time he’s been alone.”

You frown, brows furrowing. “How can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Play along,” you explain, “keep him in the dark. He deserves a chance to live in the real world with the rest of us.”

“I suppose he does,” Jin says with a shrug, “but I don’t have the power to go against the South Korean national intelligence. The only options I had were to walk away, or to play along. I chose the latter. So did you.”

You remain silent, mulling over his words. He doesn’t state them with any judgemental inflection, but you still feel a bloom of doubt in your chest.

“I chose to play along because I felt sorry for him. I chose to play along because I couldn’t imagine how lonely he would be if nobody did.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” you admit, voice barely more than a whisper. Clearing your throat, you try and lift your mood about by thinking about something else. “By the way, how long is the journey to the island? Hoseok didn’t tell me its location for privacy purposes.”

Jin laughs, throwing an arm up over the back of the couch, tipping his head to the side to rest on it. “Get comfy,” he states, “because you’re sitting on your bed for the night.”

Despite the tumultuous thoughts in your mind, the ocean outside is peaceful, rocking gently enough to lull you to sleep. Jin lends you a blanket, though your heavy skirts are weight enough. He doesn’t change either, accidentally waking you briefly at different points at the night from the noise of him getting up to check the ship’s bearings.

Apart from those hazy moments of consciousness, you sleep deeply, and it takes you a few moments upon waking properly to realise where you are. As your body is wracked with the urge to stretch - careful not to pop the handmade stitching in the dress - you can’t help but let out a deep yawn, fingers finding your hair to comb it down.

“Hot cocoa?”

You jump, not having heard the captain’s return to the cabin. He’s holding what looks like a thermos made entirely from lacquered wood, cupping it with his bare hands.

Taking your silence in stride, Jin sends you a sheepish smile. “Well, moreso lukewarm cocoa. But it’ll do the job. You need some more colour in your cheeks, little lady.”

You accept it gratefully, popping a cork on the top and pausing before you take a sip. “Do you want some?”

He makes a show of waving the suggestion off humbly, jumping back onto his couch with a graceful smile. “Ah, no need,” he deflects in a warm voice, “I drank my flask when it was still piping hot. Captain’s privileges.”

“I see,” you quip with a playful frown, but happily take a deep swig of the drink. It’s still just hot enough to warm your insides, and the creamy chocolate lingers on your tongue. “Oh my god, are you sure you don’t wanna stay on the island with us? This is incredible.”

He puffs up proudly, the tips of his ears turning pink with the praise. “I’ve packed some of the chocolate mix in the crate with the flour and spices. Just get in there before Taehyung does; he downs the stuff like nobody’s business.”

The reminder of your sole companion for the next six months sobers you up. You take another sip of the drink, savouring its taste. “How much longer to get there?”

Jin beams, patting his thighs before he stands up, tilting his head back the way he came. “Come up and see for yourself.”

The moment your head breaches the level of the deck, it’s like you’re entering an entirely new world. Unlike the port you left from, the air here feels alive with warmth and salt spray. You must have travelled closer to the equator, the sun tinting the world in gold, the sea a brilliant turquoise.

But it’s not just the open ocean that captures your attention. As you steady your feet on the main floor of the deck, rushing towards the front, you’re faced with a vast island, far bigger than you’d anticipated. The port that greets you is roughly U-shaped, the island curling around it and rising higher at the back, like a fortune cookie. You can’t see beyond the green peaks, and wonder if there’s more to see on the other side. For now, you happily spend the remaining time it takes Jin to pull in to dock basking in the views.

Almost more impressive than the island itself is the building on top of it. Though it doesn’t look too wieldy from your vantage point, it seems to have four rows of windows on its front face. It’s closer to the coast than the low mountain range, but boasts a long gravel driveway, surrounded by overgrown gardens and orchards on either side. If you squint, you can just make out, on the third floor, an ornate white balcony in the centre of the building. There’s no silhouette there to greet you.

The reminder that there was someone living in there, that you’d be living with him for the next several months, has your heart racing. You quell your nerves with a huff of salted air and turn to Jin as he mans the wheel - carved wood with bulbous spokes, like something off a pirate’s ship - with a single hand.

He smiles at you, at the overwhelmed look on your face. “Quite something, isn’t it? Never gets old.”

“The house is… not what I was expecting,” you muse, turning around to take it in again. With sunbleached white detailing, a terracotta shingled roof, and delicate pale brickwork on the corners of the building, it looks more like an old Italian villa than anything. “I thought this was originally a secret Korean base or something.”

“Was indeed,” Jin says easily, smoothly turning the wheel to bank the ship left slightly, on track to slot beside the sizeable wharf. “If you were a drone or an army pilot flying over this you wouldn’t exactly think it was a Korean base at all, though, would you?”

“Definitely not,” you answer immediately, before letting the words sink in. “Oh.”

The laugh Jin lets out is hearty, tipping his chin back slightly. “Exactly. Besides, works well for its current use too. It would be a little more hard to mask all technology if it was a high-tech military base.”

You hum in acknowledgement, bracing yourself as the right side of the hull bumps gently against the wharf and settles in. Jin abandons the wheel in favour of tethering the vessel, and you feel your nerves rise again, so suddenly and totally that your knees wobble beneath you.

It’s easy enough to keep your hands occupied, though. First you grab your own luggage from down below, depositing it on the wharf. Jin insists that you can start exploring, but a part of you isn’t ready just yet, so instead you bargain with him to help unload the supplies.

For the next half an hour or so, your job is to drag the crates and barrels to the entrance, helping Jin lift them out and carry them off the ship. It’s slow going, but you know he’s given you the easy job. From the increasingly disappointed look on his face, there’s still no sign of Taehyung.

It’s not until the storage cabin in the ship is hollow again, and the two of you step onto solid land, that you turn to him in worry. “Do you think something bad happened?”

Jin waves it off, but he can’t deflect the genuine concern in his eyes. “Ah, I bet he saw me and figured there was nothing new. Normally I’ll leave the supplies here and set sail back home again; gives him some exercise, lugging them up to the house, and god knows I don’t need it. But just in case, let me give you a hand, yeah? We can do the necessities first.”

You pick out your luggage and Jin selects a crate of eggs and long-life milk to go under one arm, some salted meat under the other, and rolls a barrel in front of him, one kick at a time. It’s a long way up to the double doors of the massive house, and the only sounds around you are the crunch of gravel, your pants of exertion, and the seabirds calling out, swooping high above you.

At one point you swear you see a person standing at the balcony, but a second glance, and he’s already gone, though a tall white curtain billows gently in the breeze.

You frown, tipping your head to the side as you force your feet to keep making headway. Was the window open before?

You dismiss it, striking up small talk with Jin about what he’d do upon returning to the mainland, but you’re a third of the way from the sprawling house when a hoot and a bang make you jump.

Directly in front of you, the double doors of the house have been slammed wide open, and a slender, dark-haired figure takes bounding leaps, running towards you with his arms in the air.

“Oh my god,” you murmur instinctively, not prepared for this kind of reception, but Jin just laughs heartily, voice rich with relief.

“That’s what I thought!” Jin shouts to the quickly approaching man. “Get your ass over here!”

Taehyung is clad in what looks like a satin robe over matching pyjamas, catching the breeze behind him like a cape. He’s barefoot, and you wince at the unflinching way he sprints, bare feet crunching on the gravel. You can vaguely recognise his face from that blurry photograph you saw back home, but he looks so different now, not just with longer, naturally curly hair, but with the broad grin and lively eyes that run over the two of you as he closes the gap between you.

When he finally arrives, he just about tackles Jin with the force of his hug, forcing the man to awkwardly drop the cases under his arms. Even past your bewilderment at the sudden warm welcome, you don’t miss the way Jin’s eyes mist over, the way he tightens the hug and tucks his chin on the man’s shoulder.

“It’s been too long, old friend,” Taehyung murmurs, so low that you’re taken off guard by the honeyed rumble of his voice. His face is angelic, almost cherubic, yet he sounds straight out of a silky noir. But his words aren’t meant for you, instead burrowing his face deeper into Jin’s chest.

“And whose fault is that?” Jin reprimands, no acid in his voice. “I’m so glad to see you out here again, Tae. I worry, you know.”

You barely make out Taehyung’s acknowledgement, muffled by Jin’s overalls, but when he pulls away, hair poking up above his ear on one side, his eyes find yours. His lips open but no sound comes out, his eyes suddenly crinkling and cheeks heating like a shy child.

“I know, I know,” Jin lets out with a sigh, “I’m not the only pretty face you came to greet.”

Taehyung’s eyes, swimming with bridled curiosity, don’t leave yours for a second even as he addresses his friend. “You found one,” he remarks in wonder, taking a hesitant step forward. “I did wonder if they’d given up on sending me tutors.”

“Hey,” the fisherman rebuffs gently, “we wouldn’t leave you alone, Tae. We were trying to find a really good one, I promise. Go on; introduce yourself.”

This makes the younger man perk up, humming when Jin reaches out to dislodge the stray curl of Taehyung’s hair, letting it join the rest. Taehyung waits until he’s done and then bows deeply to you, eyes seeking yours out again sweetly. “My name is Taehyung,” he divulges warmly, and crooks a hand back to gesture the way he came. “This is my humble abode, where you’ll stay with me.”

Smothering a grin at Jin’s scoff, you return the favour and introduce yourself as well, dipping into a quick bow to be polite.

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer with every word, leaning forward further. “Are you a philosopher by chance?”

“I- No, I’m not,” you answer, seeing him deflate. “Sorry.”

His mouth curls in a displeased pout, turning to Jin. “I asked for a philosopher.”

“Namjoon promised to return in a few years’ time, once his children are old enough to attend their schooling. You wouldn’t want to disrupt that, would you? The two of you got along well, I thought.”

Taehyung huffs slightly, though the fight has left him. “That’s true. I keep asking him to post me some photographs, but he never does.”

Jin grimaces. “The twins can’t seem to sit still long enough for a photo to develop, I’m afraid. All his attempts come out blurry.”

“Still,” Taehyung offers up redundantly with a sigh. “Anyway!” he exclaims, turning to you with a clap. “What do you do?”

“I’m a pianist,” you offer up, the phrase still feeling like a lie. “I brought some sheet music with me, too. Liszt’s newest concerto, among others.”

Again, the lie is bitter on your tongue. Newest is over a hundred years old, but Taehyung lets out a cheer like a child on Christmas morning, and all of a sudden a warm hand is clasping yours, tugging you towards the house as he begins listing off the other Liszt pieces in his collection, and what instruments he can play them on.

As you’re pulled up the long driveway, you crane your neck back, where Jin is beginning to lug the boxes up behind you. Guilt flares up, but he catches your eye and waves you off, sending you a friendly wink.

With Taehyung’s undying enthusiasm for music narrating your trip, it’s not long before the rough textured gravel evens out into polished stone, the pavilion in front of the double doors to the sprawling estate.

You have to tilt your head back to see the roof, slicing into the blue sky, and you imagine it would be a long walk to reach either end of the building if you started from the middle. “All this for one person,” you muse breathily, taken aback by the mammoth in front of you.

Taehyung just shrugs, delicate fingers playing on the gold-plated doorknob. “I like to stretch out when I sleep.”

A surprised laugh bubbles up, and the quip is enough to break any lasting anxiety inside you, taken over by that sweet thrum of excitement. You were getting paid to live here, in this gorgeous house on this gorgeous island with a-

You flush, tugging your eyes away from the dark-haired boy in front of you. Get a grip. “I’d love a tour, but I think we should help Jin with the luggage, perhaps,” you offer up as way of self-distraction.

“Ah,” Taehyung replies shortly, “you make an excellent point. Very well, let’s assist. Only-” He clears his throat, the bronze of his cheeks turning dusty pink. “I would prefer to go put some shoes on first.”

By the time all the barrels, boxes and battered suitcases are sitting on the parquet floor of the entryway, you’re longing for the comfort of air conditioning. Jin makes his leave quietly, giving you a tight hug and Taehyung a tighter one. It feels so sudden, leaving the island far emptier, but it’s too hot to stand on the dock and wave off the receding ship.

Instead, you make do with the shade inside, letting Taehyung lead the two of you to a kitchen on the opposite side of the house, towards the back.

Like something out of a period piece film, the kitchen is rather rustic but overly large, with a wooden island in the middle wide enough to be a table of its own. Hanging on hooks in the doorway are strings of chili, garlic and onion, and Taehyung ducks around them with practiced ease. Inside, a stone oven appears to be the most modern addition. One door leads to a pantry; another is closed, perhaps the entrance to a cellar. The rest of the kitchen is simply bench space and a dining area, with only two chairs tucked into a cherrywood table.

He pulls one out for you with a slightly shy flourish, and you sit. From a cupboard Taehyung retrieves a half-eaten loaf of baked bread and a glass jar of some type of jam.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid,” he apologises, setting them before you and fetching some plates and a knife, “but I imagine you must be famished from your journey.”

As you wait awkwardly for him to cut off a thick slice of the bread for you, you’re filled with the same feeling that being on a first date would give you. You want him to like you. You want to like him. If not, it will be a very uncomfortable experience.

“Thank you.” You pull the plate closer, admiring the fluffy inside and crunchy crust. “You like to bake?”

Taehyung shrugs, his eyes only meeting yours for brief bursts. His lips are tightened slightly with nerves, but that brown gaze is teddy-soft, making you wish he’d look at you more. “I mastered it out of sheer necessity, but it has become quite the hobby. I made the strawberry jam too, from fresh strawberries on the island. Do you like strawberries?”

“I do. I guess it makes sense for you to grow and make most of your own food.”

“Of course,” he affirms, pausing to take a bite, chewing with leisure. He’d grown up without any real need to ever rush, you supposed. “All this land, it would be a waste not to make use of it. Do you also enjoy the pursuit of gardening?”

You think back to your old apartment, the one plant that draped over the windowsill lifelessly, leaves slowly shriveling up despite you watering it. “It’s not my strongest skill,” you admit with a slight cough, “but I live close enough to a market that I haven’t needed to rely on it.”

Taehyung hums, mouth full of bread. You fall silent waiting for a response. Once he finally swallows, he tilts his head to the side. “You’re extremely beautiful,” he states without question.

“Oh-” you splutter, cheeks heating and the jam on your tongue tasting even sweeter. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps they didn’t tell you. You’re the first woman I’ve seen since I was eight years old.”

Your eyes fly wide, unable to even picture what that must be like. But a glance at Taehyung gives you pause. His eyebrows are lifted, and the corner of his mouth is curling up expectantly, like he can’t wait to see your reaction. “What I’m hearing,” you declare slowly, “is that you don’t really have any context then. To call me beautiful, I mean.”

“I’ve seen paintings,” he rebuts with a small frown, “you’re more beautiful than them.”

“What paintings have you seen?” you ask, grinning in spite of the absurd turn the conversation has taken.

“Several,” he insists emphatically, “the Mona Lisa, for example. Never the originals, of course, just copies from a printing press. But still. If da Vinci had seen you, I do suppose he would’ve painted you instead.”

Words fail you as your mouth opens and closes. A strangled noise leaves it before you’re burying your face in your hands, laughing in disbelief. “You can’t just say things like that, Taehyung,” you whine from behind your palms, “that’s too… I bet you’d say that to any woman who came on the island after so long.”

Taehyung purses his lips, like he’s genuinely considering the prospect. “Perhaps,” he allows, “but I do find it unlikely. I shall have to wait until another female tutor comes to the island and see.”

You can’t help from laughing again, shaking your head. “You want to know something?”

“Always.”

“I’ve seen a lot more people than you probably have, Kim Taehyung, and you’re the most intriguing one I’ve ever met by far.”

He goes silent for a moment, not flustered like you were, instead studying your expression with a keen but gentle eye. “Will you play something for me?” he asks at length. “On the piano? It’s been so long since I’ve heard live music from another soul.”

You finish the last bite of your bread quickly, standing up with a decisive nod. “Lead the way.”

When he stands up with you, he holds out a hand. Though there are only two of you in this empty place, he still entangles his fingers with yours and guides you there carefully, pausing often to give you information about the type of tiling in the foyer, how many steps there are on the staircase, even what year he’d received each painting in the second-floor hall.

The piano is in a ballroom with high, rounded ceilings. The room is so delicate in white and gold that it takes your breath away, makes the glossy grand piano look like a black stamp in the far half of the room.

“Play for me,” he asks again softly as he perches on the corner of the narrow stool, like you may have forgotten his wish on the way upstairs. His voice, as quiet as it is, seems to linger in the air like a golden thread, winding throughout the open air. You join him, your sides pressed flush together, and the shared body heat feels intimate.

When your fingers find the keys, they disturb a layer of fine dust, revealing the ivory beneath. “It has been a long time,” you murmur to yourself, heart aching to see such a beautiful instrument go unused. “Any requests?”

Taehyung takes a brief moment to think this over, head tilting inwards towards you, curls heavy on his brow. “Play a piece that feels like falling in love,” he decides, turning his torso to you with bright eyes. “I recently finished re-reading Pride and Prejudice, you see, and I should like to hear something romantic.”

You smile softly at the sentiment, but your brain sparks as you recall having learned a piece from the soundtrack of the movie itself (thank you, high school English class), and figure that should fit the bill. You let the piece solidify in your mind for a moment, steadying your hands in position, and begin to play.

The notes are light, weightless but so gentle. You’ve only played four or five bars before you hear Taehyung sucking in a breath, and then his face is dipping into your peripheral, a dreamy smile on his face as he leans his ear closer to the piano, hunched forward. His eyes dip closed, and as the piece begins to crescendo you almost wish you were proficient at it enough to not have to look at the keys. Your eyes spare glances at the joy on his face, his dark lashes, his pink lips, taking every second they can.

You don’t know whether to curse or praise fate for sending you to an island with a man more gorgeous than any you’d seen before. Should he be here today, it wouldn’t be you da Vinci was painting.

Taehyung requests a second piece after then - “one that comforts you in moments of strife” - and a third, and a fourth, all with unique atmospheres. It doesn’t surprise you, with such a lack of socialisation that the young man has infused so much meaning and emotion into music instead. Before you know it, the sun is setting, and Taehyung has leaned in so close to the sound, eyes closed in bliss, that his forehead is almost touching your shoulder.

When you finish the last piece, he lets out a breath, going lax like he’s deflated, and opens his eyes again. “That was beautiful,” he whispers, before clearing his throat and straightening up, shaking himself out of that dreamy fog. “I am entirely delighted that you came.”

You quirk a smile, heart warming at his acceptance of you. “I’m delighted I came too.”

“You can begin your lessons tomorrow,” he instructs, stepping up with such sharpness that his robe swings out before catching at his shins again. “But for tonight… I’ll give you a quick tour, and you can get some rest. I am certain we can find something simple for dinner in the boxes Jin brought with you on the way. Shall we?”

Taehyung offers an elbow with an expectant look, so you gingerly slip your hand around, resting it in the crook. Immediately, he tucks his arm in so that your wrist is pressed snugly against him, places his other hand on top of yours, and starts off around the second floor of the house, guiding you around.

He has a running commentary for every inch of the property, it seems. The floor you're on is mostly for entertaining - the ballroom with the piano, of course, a library that takes up almost a third of the space, the shelves still in the process of filling up, and a large study that sits in the centre of the floor, facing the back of the island.

You pause in this room, gently detaching yourself from Taehyung to approach the windows. With glass panes reaching the ceiling, and a long, upholstered bench below, it looks like the perfect reading nook, but that isn't what catches your focus. You sit on the bench and stare outside as the setting sun ignites everything in swathes of orange. The central crest of the island is further back than you initially thought, and between the manor and the peak is a sprawling plain, divided into rose gardens, vegetable patches and even some paddocks with animals inside them. You see tiny bobbing dots emerging from a henhouse, a small gathering of cows, and even a strange glimpse of orange that stands apart from the sun's rays. It disappears into a grove of trees before you can catch it.

"Ah, you spotted my companions," Taehyung murmurs from behind you, his voice sending a slight shiver over your skin. You feel the crushed velvet of the bench cushion shift beneath you as Taehyung makes himself at home, one leg lifted up and his back to the wall, facing you head-on. "We can go down and meet them, if you'd like. If you're not too tired."

It is tempting. But exhaustion tugs at your eyelids and weighs your tongue. You don't feel like you have the energy to socialise much longer. "I think I might go to bed after the tour, if that's alright with you."

Something in his eyes dulls slightly, but he nods quick enough to bounce the curls on his head. "Entirely understandable. Forget the tour; let me guide you to your room and allow you to rest up."

Internally, you sigh gratefully, but give him a warm smile. "I appreciate it," you say honestly, pushing up off the reading bench and offering your elbow. "Shall we?"

He brightens up again, teeth bared in a boxy grin. In a reversal of your previous position, he tucks his arm around yours jovially, holding himself close as if the two of you are old friends. Your heart warms at the enthusiastic contact, and you make no complaint as he leads you out of the study.

"I often take my lessons in there," he chats idly as you climb another set of stairs, "but for our purposes I suppose the ballroom is best. Wouldn't you agree?"

You hum, nodding. "There's theory involved too, you know," you mention, "so we might split our time between the two. That desk in the study looks big enough for the both of us to work at."

"It certainly is." Taehyung clears his throat, and ducks his head slightly as you begin to ascend, still pinned side-by-side. "I do hope you'll enjoy it here," he mumbles quietly. "I have to apologise in advance about the state of your room. I stopped preparing one for a tutor when they stopped sending them. Were I aware of your impending arrival, it would not be so dusty."

"It's fine," you brush off, but the defence dies in your throat when you arrive on the third landing, and he twists the glass knob of the door closes to the right.

Inside is a bedroom, almost the size of your apartment back home, with a large four-poster bed, a small writing desk, a claw-footed tub concealed by a delicately embroidered paper screen, a matching mahogany wardrobe and vanity, and an armchair beside the bed. All of these items individually looked like something out of a period piece movie, seeming two hundred years old, and with the thick, almost solid layer of dust on everything, you could just about imagine they were.

Your mouth falls open before you can smother your reaction, and Taehyung himself lets out a strangled noise of surprise.

"That... I do have to apologise profusely, Y/n, I did not think of just how long it's been..." He sighs with a flourish, tipping his head back like nothing could be more distressing. "This is unacceptable. I'll have to clean this before I allow you to breathe the air in here. You'd catch a cough overnight."

You can't even rebuff that statement, seeing just how many dust particles fly into the air when he levels a kick at the foot of the bed. "I... Is there a living room downstairs I could use in the meantime? I don't mind sleeping on a couch."

Taehyung looks utterly horrified at the prospect, and without a further word, snakes his arm around your waist and is rushing you from the room, pausing only to decisively slam the door shut, and then directs you back the way you came, stopping at a door in the center of the floor. With a pat on your shoulder to keep you in place, he opens the door and waves you inside. "These will be your living quarters for the time being," he declares, jumping in to start patting down the thick duvet of the bed inside, straightening out any invisible crinkles.

The room itself has a similar setup to the previous one, only with far less dust. At one end, a set of French doors are open, showing off a marble balcony. Facing the opposite direction to the study, this looks forward onto the coast and the vast sea from whence you came. The evening air blows in thinly through the open doors, gently billowing the floor-length cream curtains.

There are some tins and glass containers on the vanity, as well as a wooden brush, and the writing desk has a inkwell, a leatherbound book as well as several worn novels resting on it. Like a sudden realisation, you think back to the sight of a figure standing on a balcony when you arrived, of the doors pushed open. This was Taehyung's room.

"Please - make yourself at home," Taehyung requests. "I can bring up your luggage for you while you take a moment to settle. I might go open a few windows in the other room to let it air out overnight, but I'm afraid it may be a few days before I can return it to a clean state. In the meantime, this should suffice."

"I can't take your room, Taehyung," you frown, fiddling with the sleeve of your dress. "That's not fair."

"You're the guest," he insists emphatically with furrowed brows. "I could not sleep in comfort knowing you were banished to a stiff couch after traveling so far for me. The bed is yours."

"Where will you sleep?" you ask, your raw exhaustion stopping you from protesting further. It draws you to the side of the bed, sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable mattress. It doesn't spring under you like the ones you're used to. Instead, it feels full and light, as if stuffed with feathers. Your spine aches and feet buzz at the feeling of rest being so close.

Taehyung smiles, shoulders dropping in relief once you sit. "I have fallen asleep while reading in the study many a time," he responds, "I shall spend my nights on the bench there for the time being."

"On the bench?" you repeat incredulously. "Taehyung-"

"I assure you, it is quite comfortable," he states.

"Then I'll sleep there," you fire back. He grimaces, but a sigh of resignation deflates him. "There's no reason either of us should have to sleep out there, Taehyung. This bed is massive."

He catches what you're hinting at immediately, lips tightening. "It would not be proper..." he defends, though you don't miss the way his eyes linger longingly on the bed you're sat on.

"Who's here to judge us? Who cares?"

Taehyung falls silent for a moment, before nodding. "Very well. Once I bring your luggage up, you may change into your night clothes. I might visit Lily before I come to bed."

The phrase 'come to bed' feels so intimate that you suppress a shiver, focusing instead on the unfamiliar name. "Lily?"

He beams immediately in fondness. "You can meet her tomorrow," he promises. "For now, sleep is the larger priority."

The word itself triggers a yawn, and you swear you hear the quietest chuckle from Taehyung as you clap a hand over your mouth. "Okay, I won't fight that," you decide, "just let me come down and help bring up my luggage. There are only a few suitcases, anyway."

By the time you undress and slip into a cotton nightgown, slipping your feet underneath the puffy duvet, your mind is already shutting down. Part of you had intended to wait for Taehyung, to thank him for his hospitality or the use of his bed or something, but instead your body rests into the cloudlike bed, tucked on one side to give Taehyung more room to stretch out, and consciousness leaves you like the flick of a switch.

You wake in the middle of the night, briefly, a wave of disorientation tugging you from sleep before you recall the past twenty four hours. Adjusting yourself, you turn around to your other side and flip the pillow, seeking the cool. Rubbing at your eyes, you crack them open briefly and are met with the sight of Kim Taehyung sleeping. Not right across from you, though. Instead, he's curled up in the armchair, neck twisted at an awkward angle, mouth open slightly.

Your heart melts at the sight, and you manage to muster the energy it takes to sit up and hop out of bed, padding around on bare feet, using a blanket folded at the foot of the bed to drape over him, and tucking a pillow between his cheek and his shoulder.

He's beautiful, achingly so, even when asleep. Even with a corner of his mouth damp with drool. The planes of his face catch the moonlight coming in through the window. It glints silver on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. It winds in strands of his hair that hang low on his brow. The photograph could never have encapsulated these details, and it feels like a privilege to be witnessing him in real life. More than his gorgeous face, he seemed kinder than you'd expected, a curious spirit that had none of the inhibitions or judgements that society bred into you, into everyone you'd met before him. He was so entirely himself, uninfluenced, that it took your breath away.

His breath catches, and he lets out a throaty grumble before shifting slightly in the chair. Heart racing at the sudden movement, you scurry back to your side of the bed, barely taking a minute of stillness to fall asleep again.

“Good mor- Well, good afternoon!”

You groan, hands balling up clumsily to rub at your eyes, toes curling and mouth stretching in a yawn.

“Ah, there she is. Welcome back to the land of the living, darling.”

You crack a single eyelid, squinting up at the figure crouched at the bedside. Taehyung looks surprisingly well-rested for his uncomfortable choice in bedding last night, and his hair has been brushed back, revealing bright eyes and a broad set of brows, raised expectantly.

“What time is it?” you make out with rusty vocal cords. Pushing yourself upright, you yawn again and prop your back against the headboard, blinking away the dregs of sleep.

“Three in the afternoon,” he states without hesitation, eyes glinting with bemusement, “I would have left you sleeping longer, only- well, to tell you the truth I was worried you may have slipped into a coma. Your snoring sounded suspiciously like a death rattle.”

Your cheeks heat violently as you splutter out an apology, but he just laughs, the sound throaty and golden. “I’ve taken the time to unpack our supplies,” he continues on, lifting from his haunches only to sit on the bed instead, just about pinning your legs under the duvet. “I’ve put the boxes with your equipment in the study for now, as I wasn’t sure how you wanted to arrange them. But worry not; I’ve decided we don’t have to begin lessons until Monday. I shall insist on giving you weekends and evenings off, as is proper for a teacher.”

“Thank you,” you let out automatically, even as your brain overheats from the sudden info dump so early in the morning. Before either of you can open your mouths again, your stomach growls, causing you to flush deeply.

Taehyung is unruffled, simply rising to his feet with a wordless exclamation. “Of course! You must be starving. I’ll be down in the kitchen making us some… lunch? Some lunch,” he decides. “My bath is connected to the hot water system here, so please do not hesitate should you wish to wash up before you get dressed for the day. I will not disturb you, simply come downstairs at your leisure.”

With that, he turns to leave in a flurry, leaving you alone.

After sitting in the silence for a moment, still catching your bearings, you decide to take him up on the offer of a hot bath after all. The tub is not particularly wide but very tall, and the water fills up quickly, pouring in somewhat uneven bursts from the delicate silver faucets. Though it boasts some silver feet at the bottom, they appear to be decorative, as the bath itself is still attached to the ground by the pipe underneath it. It snakes from the drainhole, under the tub and out to the side of the wall, where it disappears.

It’s quite the balancing act to get the temperature right, adjusting the cold and hot water taps several times until it feels just right, dipping your fingers in to check before submerging yourself entirely.

With the shape of the tub, you have to bend your legs, but the level of the water is displaced high enough to almost reach the tops of your knees, heating your whole body from the shoulders down. It feels heavenly, and you don’t even make any motions to reach for the block of soap or the perfume on the side table, instead just shutting your eyes and letting the tensions of your journey and all the changes finally seep out of your muscles and into the water.

Your mind wanders. Staying there until the water is nothing more than lukewarm, you think of how far you’ve come, of what more might lay in the future yet. Of how strange it was to be wearing vintage clothes, or listen to Taehyung’s charming old-fashioned way of speaking. The world you left behind has never felt so far away. Were you at home, you’d probably be on your phone, mindlessly scrolling on social media or queuing up a new Netflix show. There is still a strange hole inside you at not having those comforts available to you, but it isn’t nearly as cavernous as you’d expected. Life here, at least the day of it you’ve experienced, doesn’t feel empty or lacking. But perhaps it’s the person on this island with you that makes it feel so full.

With the reminder of him, and the fact that he’s currently on the first floor making lunch, your stomach growls impatiently again, and you scramble to soap yourself down before you drain the tub. Hunger gnawing at you makes you hurry, getting dressed and brushing through your hair a bit before rushing down the stairs, a fistful of fabric keeping your skirt high enough that you won’t trip.

The smell hits you before anything else, and as you round the corner, the rich aroma of beef is matched with the sight of Taehyung leaning leisurely against the kitchen counter, lazily stirring the contents of a comically large pot on the stove.

The scuff of your shoes alerts him to your presence, and he turns around with a broad grin, directing you to sit at the dining table. The sight of him takes your breath away. Gone is the matching pyjamas-and-robe ensemble. Today, it seems, he’s dressing to the nines. A deep navy waistcoat with gold buttons keeps snug to his form, a white blouse with tight cuffs and ballooned sleeves showing off a delicate lace pattern. His pants are a warm brown, leading down to leather shoes. Instead of a tie, his neck stays bare, the top button of his blouse undone to expose the base of his throat. Even his hair is styled; it looks as if he’s wet it slightly to comb it back, but a stray lock to the left has escaped the clutches, curling at his temple.

“Excellent timing,” he chimes, unaware of - or unbothered by - the way your eyes rake over him, “the stew is just about ready to go.”

He serves the dish with a comically large ladle, pouring the stew into two stone bowls. It looks nothing short of incredible, filled with chunks of tender beef, potato, onion, carrot, even some slices of egg. You can barely hold off long enough for Taehyung to sit and pick up a spoon before you’re doing the same, diving in with a much dignity as you can muster.

It’s unbelievably good, the meat so tender you barely even chew it, the broth rich and full-bodied on your tongue. You suppose a lifetime of cooking for himself was clearly paying off, and you count your lucky stars that he’s happy and willing to make such an impressive meal for you on your first real day here.

“I want you to meet someone today,” Taehyung announces at one point, pausing to tip his bowl up and drink the last of the stew.

You frown, instinctively glancing around the room. “There’s another person living on the island?”

“Not so much.” He sets the bowl down with a dull thud and leans back in his chair, two broad hands smoothing down his vest. “There’s several livestock out back that you caught a glimpse of last night, but I do keep a pet, too. She’s outside.”

Burning with curiosity, you quickly help Taehyung rinse out the bowls and leave them upside down in the sink to dry, following behind him as he leads you to one of the back doors close to the kitchen.

“You’ll require shoes,” Taehyung states, retrieving a pair of worn sandals from a cupboard beside the door, “you can use a pair of mine for now. Just tighten the straps and they shall suffice.”

While the shoes are significantly larger than your feet, Taehyung is right. You wrap the ties as tight as they go, pinning your foot to the sole, and the two of you set out into the heat of the afternoon.

Outside, you’re in a cosy valley between the manor and the mountain ahead, so very little wind reaches you. The salt of the sea is masked by the fragrant smell of blooming flowers and pollen, not just restrained to flowerbeds but growing all over, from bushes of bright pink azaleas to tiny white petals climbing up a trellis on the back exterior wall to dandelions and daises dotted amongst the thick grass.

You walk along a central path, still grass but worn flat from treading. It leads you between mostly garden beds of vegetables and flowers, but also paddocks of farm animals; a chicken coop you’d seen the night before sticks close to the house, with a patch of sheep and three cows grazing further out towards the slope of the mountain.

“She is my dearest companion,” Taehyung explains as you make your way close to a grove of trees, unbothered by the heat even in his warm clothes, “though not all of my tutors take to her as well as I have. I should hope you can grow fond of her, Y/n.”

You smile at the earnest look on his face. “Is she a cat? I know some people don’t get along with cats that well.”

His grin widens, hands clasped behind his back. “She is indeed.” Inclining his head forward, he looks intently into the thatch of trees, scanning the shade. Suddenly, he perks up, and speeds up. “There she is!”

You strain your eyes to seek out this mysterious companion, barely noticing the wooden fence in front of you until you bump into it, Taehyung reaching out a hand to steady you and lifting a heavy metal clasp, letting the two of you in and shutting it behind you. Your smile falters a little; why would a cat need a gate?

“Lily, my dear!” Taehyung calls out jovially, heading further into the fenced-off field. The majority of it is open grass with the trees gathered further back and a small pond to the right, birds gathering around the edge to wet their beaks.

You hear the snuffling and pawing before you see her.

Brilliant orange, the tiger steps out from the shadows of the trees and pads towards the dark-haired man, meeting him halfway. Your stomach drops at the sight of the big cat, rich black and snow white stripes lining her face and body, sleek all over but long-haired around the neck and chin. Even in zoos, you’d never seen a predator this close, and to be entirely vulnerable to one had you frozen in terror.

Taehyung wasn’t the least bit stiff, falling fearlessly to his knees, arms splayed wide to bury his whole upper body into her fur. She snuffles again, a flash of teeth sending a shock through your system, but gently buffs her head against his head, all but nuzzling in.

It takes several moments for your life-or-death instincts to settle, but as you do, the murmur of Taehyung’s voice greets your ears.

His hands run over her, scratching behind her ears, patting down stray whiskers, rubbing her chin, and beams, showering her in affection. “Oh, my sweet girl, my deepest apologies for making you wait, did you miss me? Hm? Oh, I missed you too, you big baby.”

Despite sharing the same oxygen as an actual, grown tiger, you find yourself smiling at the bond between the two. With a solid thud that resonates in the ground, Lily falls onto her side and lifts a wide paw up, batting at Taehyung until he buries his splayed fingers into the fur on her tummy, giving it a hearty rub. She snuffles again, stretching out under his touch, playful and content.

He looks up after a moment, crooked smile and tousled hair, and waves you over. It takes a moment of sheer concentration and determination to will your feet to move closer, but eventually you gingerly kneel down beside him and look at the gorgeous animal in front of you.

She’s bigger than both of you put together, but leans into Taehyung’s cuddling and petting like a kitten, or a dog that doesn’t realise how big it is. You reach out slowly, hand trembling, and settle your fingers on top of her heaving chest, just beside Taehyung’s. Her fur is like rough silk, richly soft yet textured, and her skin beneath is warmed from the sun. A smile stretches across your lips as she arches off the ground slightly, licking her chops and stretching her paw up in acceptance of the contact.

Taehyung sucks in a slow breath, and you feel the weight of his head rest onto your shoulder. “She likes you,” his honeyed rumble affirms, “she never warmed up to the others.”

Your hand freezes, even as Lily makes no change in behaviour. “I thought the other tutors didn’t like her?”

Taehyung chuckles, the movement jostling your shoulder. “Would you have come down here had I told you she was unfriendly?”

You harrumph, but find no real annoyance inside you. “How did you even get a tiger here? This is insane.”

With a slight grunt of effort, Taehyung lifts up off you and twists, letting his head rest on the tiger’s side instead, dwarfed by her body. He pats the ground beside him, but you shake your head obstinately, not ready to put your head so close to a predator. “One of my previous tutors brought her. Jungkook, his name was. He was the most brilliant carpenter, making not furniture but tools and delicate ornaments. I keep them still in my room. I digress; his father was a zookeeper, or so he told me, giving sanctuary to orphaned creatures too wild to be housepets. Lily’s mother was rescued from poachers while she was pregnant.”

You frown, staring unabashedly at Taehyung’s graceful face now that he’d closed his eyes. “But why did you get Lily? Did she not stay with her mother?”

Taehyung shrugs lazily, making Lily adjust and huff beneath him, also drifting off into a comfortable nap. The only sign Tae is still conscious is his willingness to engage in conversation, and even then his voice is slurred with relaxation. “Their zoo was not so well off, you see, financially. One senior tiger was one thing. A cub? They wanted to release it into the wild and pray to the Lord for the best. Jungkook pulled some strings for me, the sweet boy.”

“Why Lily?”

A single eye cracks open, staring up at you balefully. “I did just say.”

“No,” you fumble, cheeks heating, “why the name? Why Lily?”

“Well; what do you suppose a tiger should be called?” He waits for a moment, letting the rhetorical question dangle in the air before he allows you the answer. “Jungkook’s birth flower was a tiger lily. Tiger, lily. He had to leave, serve in the army, but I did not wish to lose all of him. He was my first love, you see.” A sad smile stretches across his face, and the light dulls from his eyes, reminding you hauntingly of that photograph Hoseok had shown you. “I do miss him terribly, despite Lily here to keep me company.”

You find yourself stricken into silence, heart aching for him. You don’t know what to say, whether to ask if he was finishing his stint in the military soon, or whether to avoid the discussion of the boy altogether. Taehyung seems to settle into the silence, breathing in turn with the quietly snoring tiger.

A solemn air clouds around you, heavy and pressured. Behind your eyes, you feel a sting as your mind wanders where your tongue holds, at the thought of being left behind by the man you love, having nothing more than a namesake and some carvings to remember him by. Of not knowing where he was, if he was okay. You blink hastily, tilting your gaze up to the sun.

Although his eyes have slipped shut, Taehyung seems to feel your change in mood. His lip quirks in reassurance. “Do not worry for me, my dear,” he consoles, “that love no longer pains me like it used to. Even during our time together, I did feel that affection hurt uniquely. We both knew our company was finite. There’s an agony in that, woven with euphoria.”

You find yourself scrambling for words, unmoored by how easily he spoke with such conviction and colour. “I hope you don’t feel pain like that again,” you offer up after a moment.

He swallows, throat bobbing, and hums, a low smile gracing his features. “I do.”

With no idea what to say to that, you lower your head to the field around you, watching Taehyung’s head rise and fall with the tiger’s chest. Watching his fingers fiddle with blades of grass, his own breath even out. The two of you sit quietly with Lily until the sun begins to set and the air finally cools. As the sky erupts in purples and pinks, and the sinking sun casts royal orange over Taehyung’s already golden skin, you yearn for that agony too.

Life on the island is easier to adjust to than you’d been expecting. The void of your phone dissipates slowly, but other conveniences in your prior life are so quickly replaced by new routines that you don’t find yourself missing them.

Taehyung is a clever and diligent student, never complaining about the theory lessons or hours of practice you ask him to complete. While he isn’t the quickest learner, what he finally masters seems concretely rooted in him, and he never forgets a bar once he’s memorised it.

You end every lesson playing a piece for him upon his insistent request. Like the first time, he challenges you to call upon compositions that fit certain emotions and atmospheres. When he plays, demonstrating the few lines of music he’d learned that day, you feel a soul creep between the notes, his fingers sliding along those keys so reverently.

Outside of lessons, the two of you grow closer still. There’s a certain intimacy in shared meals, and Taehyung seemingly never tires of cooking, offering to teach you but never expecting you to provide. You try, nonetheless, growing accustomed to the stone oven and rudimentary utensils. No dinner is ever quiet; despite spending most of your hours together, Taehyung never runs out of conversation to make, and is always genuinely interested in what tidbits you offer up yourself.

You learn about him rapidly through these tangents and asides. His favourite novel was a Jules Verne book, Around the World in Eighty Days. “I’ve read it a hundred times,” Taehyung once confessed, “and yet I can never begin to imagine it at all. Isn’t that curious? I find myself rather addicted to it.”

His taste in music was expansive, and he ended almost every day sat by his record player, staring deeply into space, ear angled directly at the bell-shaped horn. His foot would tap but he’d be otherwise still, so enraptured in the tune. He acted much the same whenever he looked at prints of famous paintings, staring at them intensely, unmoving. If anything, you wish you could hear what was going on inside his head at those times.

The first two months race by, and before you realise how settled you’ve gotten, Jin is back with a new shipment of goods. He receives a warm welcome from the two of you, and remarks with a meaningful weight in his tone just how happier Taehyung seemed to be compared to the previous time.

Thrilled to see another human, you ask for him to join the two of you, but he agrees to sit down for a cup of tea exclusively.

“Storm warning coming up tomorrow,” he explains, legs splayed wide and arms crossed over his chest as the three of you converge in the kitchen. “I want to head out ASAP just to get ahead of it in case it hits early. Can’t be too careful out there.”

“A-yes-apie,” Taehyung repeats with a crinkling of his brow, leaning against the kitchen counter with only two wooden chairs at the table.

“A-S-A-P,” Jin corrects warmly, “‘as soon as possible’, old chap. I must’ve picked that lingo up at the docks, I suppose.”

Taehyung seems to perk up at the new phrase, lips mouthing the letters silently to recall it. “Do you… have anything else like that?”

Jin’s eyes dart to you, so quick you almost miss the way his lips tighten, but his posture remains casual. “Check out the books I brought, maybe they’ll have some other figures of speech in there. Dickens, maybe. I brought you David Copperfield.”

Taehyung nods emphatically, the furrow in his forehead finally lifting. “I’ll be sure to read it carefully. Much obliged.”

Jin downs the rest of his tea in a single gulp and gathers his heavy coat, taking his leave so quickly that you barely get the chance to really enjoy his company or catch up at all. Only at the door, after Taehyung hugs him one last time and heads out back to feed the animals does Jin hook your arm in his gently and pull you aside.

“The two of you seem happy,” he states soberly, “which of course is a good thing, but be careful, Y/n. With yourself and with him. You’re on a timed contract.”

You frown, face falling. “What do you mean?”

“I- nothing, I suppose, I just want the best for you both. It’s a very… unique situation. Keep your best judgement in mind.” He sucks in one last breath, frowning at the spotting of clouds on the horizon, and glances back, tugging you into a sudden hug. “You’re a good fit here, Y/n. I’m glad he has you for the next few months.”

Thoroughly confused, you savour the hug as best you can before Jin is departing, rushing down the gravel path back to his docked ship. He’s gone within the next ten minutes, and your mind is soon occupied by the thought of what to have for dinner.

The storm Jin had rushed out ahead of hits you a day after his departure. Your lesson is cancelled in order to herd all the animals under cover around the island when thick black clouds get hooked around the top of the mountain. Before you’re able to as much as brew a cup of tea, a tropical rain pelts the manor, soaks the land and encloses you firmly indoors for the foreseeable future.

Back home, life goes on as normal when there’s a downpour, just with added umbrellas and rainboots. There is enough shelter in a city to keep it at bay, and the infrastructure to ensure as little flooding as possible. Out here, the elements reign over the island and you’re kept under their mercy.

Taehyung assures you that this happens seasonally, and that the fields quickly turning to swampwater will return to normal in due time. Apart from Lily, who is carefully lead into her own stables and hooked to a post, the animals huddle in wooden coops and huts, using their own judgement to stay dry.

The two of you make the most of the time together. It’s too noisy in the ballroom to attempt a piano lesson, so the rain on the roof becomes white noise as you whittle away the hours on the first floor living room, Taehyung reading to you (his new Dickens, much to his delight, is just as enjoyable as the last one) or you telling him highly-edited stories of your childhood.

Despite the storm being humid, the house is surprisingly cool, and over the days of unbroken downpour, you find yourself naturally sitting closer and closer to Taehyung every time you make your way down there. The Dickens book doesn’t last long, so Taehyung digs out other things to keep the two of you entertained. An old untuned violin, a stack of playing cards missing the seven of hearts, even a worn joke book with puns so bad that you can’t help but laugh.

It’s the sixth day of straight rain when things turn sour. It’s early in the evening when Taehyung decides to go out to check on the animals.

“I’ll come help,” you offer, already jumping off the chaise lounge, but Taehyung whirls around with an emphatic shake of his head.

“Unwise,” he insists, “I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill. Besides, I know all the nooks and crannies they’re taking shelter in. They tend to spread around the island more than usual when they have to find cover.”

“At least let me keep an eye on you. I have a raincoat,” you insist, and he sighs but protests no further.

Outside, the rain is pelting with a vengeance. You grimace in sympathy for the creatures stuck outside, not granted the same care as the two of you and Lily. Even with your oiled leather rain jacket on, you quickly become drenched.

Taehyung, in nothing more than his usual blouse and dress pants, bursts out into the fields behind the sprawling mansion without a care in the world. His hair is plastered to his scalp, the weight of the water removing even the most stubborn curl, and his blouse clings to his skin, turning transparent enough that you can see the shadow of a mole between his shoulder blades.

When he turns to you, he has to yell over the crashing of the storm, the rain near deafening. “The chickens have their henhouse, but I do worry it might flood. If you can check it out, I shall go find the cows.”

“Find them?” you yell back. “I thought you knew where they would go?”

He smiles widely, teeth glinting as water runs off the tip of his nose. “I know a few spots, dear Y/n, but I did not meet with them directly to witness their choice.”

You frown, but Taehyung is already setting off, warning you to be safe as if you’re the more at danger. As you see his figure grow smaller, not running towards the hilly range but instead parallel to it, you give up and turn the other way to the henhouse.

It’s fairly large, and although it looks as old as time, it’s the stout kind of old rather than the rickety one. The posts holding it in place are worn entirely glossy smooth, and the nails have all but sunken inside, never to be shifted.

You can’t hear the chickens, and as you approach your heart races, scanning the roof for any visible holes or weaknesses. There don’t seem to be any, but still you make haste for the entrance to the coop, boots sinking ankle deep in the mud with every step.

Finally, you get there, calves aching from yanking your feet free the whole way. Catching your breath, you don’t even mind the thick sheets of rain that continue to slip beneath your raincoat and fill your boots.

Your grip on the window cover is slippery at best, and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to fiddle with the hook that keeps it closed. The chooks still have their own hutch doors to come and go as they choose, but you’re worried about startling them and causing a feathery exodus.

Eventually you lift it up and off, and slide the window to the side as quietly as you can, grateful that the rumble of the rainclouds muffles most small sounds.

Fearing the worst, you lift up on your tiptoes and peer inside. Instead of a flood of water and drowned chickens, you’re greeted with the smell of hay and the humid air of shared space. Below, the chickens have huddled together on the dry hay, sleeping soundly. None of them stir as you look around, and just as slowly as you opened the window, you latch it shut again.

Turning back the way you came, you keep your eyes peeled for Taehyung. Sprawling fields, waterlogged and empty. You can’t make him out along the foot of the hills, which means he must’ve continued further towards the west coastline.

You make your way over there, straining to hear or see anything over the chaos of the summer storm. Passing Lily’s shelter, you check inside, but he’s not returned their either.

She watches you with intelligent eyes, bucking her snout at the ice chests of meat you keep stacked in the corner for her. The metal receptacle is impossible for her to open with strength alone, but she’s seen you and Taehyung use it to feed her enough times to recognise it.

“Okay, sweetheart, just quickly.” To be safe, fearing for your heart that hasn’t quite gotten comfortable in her free-range presence, you take it outside to open, pulling a slab of ground beef out.

Lily didn’t mind chewing it like an ice block, so you simply close the chest again and enter, lobbing it to her immediately so she doesn’t come to you.

She’s more than content to snap it up with a happy thud of her front paw, ducking her head to drop it on the floor directly in front of her, gnawing at it side-on.

Setting the ice chest back down, you rub your icy hands together, working the heat back into them. “An early dinner, huh? Cheeky thing. I promise I won’t tell Taehyung that I already fe-”

You cut yourself off, going ramrod straight. Lily even pauses her eating, watching you warily. You swear you heard something, a yell or cheer or…

Without pausing to say goodbye to the big cat in the barn, you rush outside and squint, looking for what could’ve caused it. Inside, you know there’s only one other being on the whole island, but the dread swirling in your stomach is already too much to handle.

Wiping your face in frustration, blinking away water that keeps returning, you fight the churned-up ground and half-jog towards the coastline.

Even as you approach, the only noise is the thundering rain, and you feel like you’ve gone crazy, but the lack of further sound just makes you more paranoid.

You’re almost running now, heart burning and legs screaming at the effort it takes. It feels like running in a nightmare, sluggish and not fast enough, but eventually the rocky beach comes into better view.

Suddenly, a movement catches your eye, and your heart stops. Following the flash, you see that the edge of the hill closest to the beach turns to rough stone. Halfway up, the rocky slope turns concave. Under the lip, the cows are lying down, tails flicking lazily as they chew their cud.

You frown, eyes following the cliffside down. There’s no trail, no easy way. Did he climb up to check on them more closely? Maybe he slipped a little and it caught him by surprise, you ponder, but the thought is weak even in your own head.

“Taehyung!” you scream out desperately, fearing the worst. “Are you out here, Taehyung? Do something, make some noise!”

Your voice is quickly swallowed up by the pounding of rain, but the closer you get to the beach, the more the sprawling sand absorbs the impact and lessens the volume.

If you weren’t straining your ears so intently, you would have missed it.

A weak whistling rings out, reaching you on the last legs of its strength. You follow it, heart thudding as you place the tune. The song you had played for him on the piano weeks, months ago, when he’d asked for something romantic.

The sound grows louder the closer you get to the foot of the hill, and the first glimpse of him you see is his inky hair contrasting against the sand.

“Tae,” you yell out, “oh my goodness, are you okay, what happened?”

He’s unable to answer you beyond a grunt of acknowledgement, and your heart flares at the pained tinge it carries. The whistle trails off with it and somehow the silence that follows is worse.

All there is is the crash of rain on sea and rocks, and him.

Without care for your already soaked clothes, you collapse at his side the second you reach him. Further away the rain had clouded your vision, but leaning over him like this, you see the golden crests of sand clinging to his bare throat and jaw, some grains even stuck on the pale pink of his lips.

It’s vastly overshadowed by the harsh pink that covers the rest of him.

The rain has watered the blood down almost to nothing in some places, but the shadow in the sand beneath him and the stained fibres of his clothing hold the pigment stronger.

He’s bleeding from somewhere on his face; the well doesn’t stop, ebbing from close to his hairline and mingling with angry rainwater.

His brows are furrowed deeply with the ache of it, and he’s still, hauntingly so. But still, when you go to wipe the muck and violent matter from his face, you catch the way his lips tilt just slightly, a smile in spite of it all.

This whisper of his humanity is what snaps you out of your shock. You take in a gasping breath, mind running a mile a minute. “We have to get you inside,” you half-shout over the crashing storm, “is anything broken? You can feel your legs, right? Taehyung? Fuck, what do I-”

He’s not responding fast enough, and here isn’t the place for an interrogation. With no other choice, you dig your hands into the bloody sand beneath him and lift him from it, gritting your teeth at the dead weight.

The movement rips a guttural cry from him, and a shaking hand flies up to cradle his face. He still doesn’t speak a single word, but clings to you like his life depends on it.

It probably does, and that fact makes you endure with a greater haste.

It’s a long trek back to the estate. Wet sand turns to wet dirt, and with the added load your feet sink into the mud even deeper. Every step is a juddering thwack that makes Taehyung whimper, and more than twice you find yourself crying out with him, half to drown that anguished sound and half to curse the skies that pelt you without mercy.

Your muscles scream at you, but you push forth. By the time the massive building enters your blurred vision, you can barely breathe, throat worn thin from gasping. Taehyung has stopped responding to the jerking tug of your uneven movements. You suspect he’s lost consciousness, and the fire in your chest pushes you the final stretch.

Lily’s hut is closer than the back door, so you stop in that stable and lay Taehyung down on the hay, lungs screaming at you.

He doesn’t move an inch, simply sinking into the dried grass with his natural gravity. From her perch on the other side of the room, Lily goes silent too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you pant out when your voice returns, heart warming when she abandons her prized ground beef popsicle to come to Taehyung.

Padding over, she gingerly nudges his jaw with her nose. His face lolls lifelessly to the other side. With her uncanny intelligence, she ducks her head down and presses it to his stomach, waiting a few moments. Her red ochre eyes watch you carefully as her head barely lifts and falls with his shallow breathing.

After a minute, she mounts the hay beside him and lies her full weight on it, gently nosing at his body until it’s tucked neatly beside her. Although she’s lying as if to sleep, her eyes don’t leave him for a minute, nor do they close.

“Keep him safe,” you request of her with a cracked voice, though you know it’s redundant to even ask. “I just need to grab some things.”

You use the side door to enter the house directly, so exhausted that perhaps even fifteen seconds of the pelting rain might cause you to collapse entirely.

Inside the house, the air is cool and a little humid. You drip a trail over the polished floorboards, marble and Persian rugs that fill Taehyung’s home. There’s no time to waste in getting changed into dry clothes, so you simply shuck them in a random hallway, remaining only in your soaked undergarments.

With that burden removed, you move quicker to his room, grabbing his blanket. Your next stop is a necessary one, linen from a closet you can use to clean and bandage his injuries, plus towels to dry him as best you can.

For the first time in a long time, your isolation feels like a curse. There’s no ambulance you can ring, no internet to search for help. He doesn’t even have ibuprofen, wouldn’t know what it was even if you told him.

The best you can do is some plain bread from the kitchen pantry and a reserve of Finnish vodka that he’d been saving for something special.

Hurrying with your arms full, you almost slip down the wet corridors, but in no time you’re back in the warm stable, now filled with the worried purring Lily is attempting to rouse Taehyung with.

“He’ll be okay,” you promise, beginning first by pressing a balled-up bedsheet to his forehead. He doesn’t even have the energy or awareness to cringe at the pressure, but luckily the bleeding slows enough for you to clean the rest of him clumsily with your other hand, towel after towel quickly becoming waterlogged with a dirty pink.

After tying a fresh cloth to his forehead, large enough that it covers one of his lidded eyes, you tentatively begin to undress him.

It feels wrong, exposing his cold and clammy skin like this. But you know he needs to get dry and warm, and can’t do that lying in pounds of soaked fabric. Lily moves back enough for you to slide his pants off and gently pull his unbuttoned shirts from behind his back.

Even the hay is dampened and compacted now, so with a grimace you lift him to a dry spot, laying half his blanket underneath him, and wrapping the top around.

With a light huff, Lily returns to her place at Taehyung’s side, this time settling lower down, resting her head on his thigh. Perhaps pleased at your level of care, she twitches her nose and closes her eyes to sleep.

It’s a long day, and an even longer night.

Once you’re confident the bleeding has stopped, you use a bucket of rainwater and a fresh pillow case to carefully erode the dried blood from his face and ear. It’s slow going; you’re terrified to hurt him more than he’s already injured.

He flinches a couple of times, when you dab closer to his temple, but doesn’t wake. You finish in silence, revealing the nature of the injury.

It’s a nasty scrape, but shallow, and luckily with the rain, no sand has managed to embed itself in the maw. Some of his hair has come away, leaving an uneven hairline just above the shell of his ear.

Biting your lip hard enough to taste blood, you brace yourself and tip some of the vodka over the partially dried wound. Taehyung’s fingers curl into claws in his sleep, but still he doesn’t rouse from the slumber that’s taken him.

In the end, you feel good about your cleaning and dressing of the wound. An unused handkerchief is the perfect size to fold into a triangle and tie around his head, and it looks far less serious now that it’s tidied up and treated.

What keeps you awake is what lies beneath.

How are you supposed to know if he’s got a concussion? If there’s internal bleeding, or his brain has blown up like a balloon inside his skull? You’re unable to research any symptoms and even if you did, there’s probably very little for you to do.

Until he wakes - if he wakes - you can’t even question how high up he was when he fell, and if it was a clean tumble or if he injured himself further on the way down.

Lily doesn’t seem to be able to stay asleep either. She barely finishes her dinner, and wakes almost on the hour every hour to check if he’s awake. He doesn’t.

The second day is somehow worse.

Torn between not wanting to leave his side and wanting to bring more supplies for him, your day is a long stretch of anxious waiting interspersed briefly with mad dashes into the house.

You forget to eat, but it doesn’t seem important. You worry more about the way his lids have begun shifting, as if the eyes beneath are restlessly rolling in his skull. There’s no way for you to tell if this is a good sign or an omen.

There’s no way for you to tell if he’ll wake at all, and when the storm finally lifts on the third day and yet Taehyung remains asleep, that’s when the if starts feeling insurmountable and ominous.

Maybe he’s dying behind closed eyes. What would you do if he stopped breathing for good? Bury him in the sludge outside? Or worse, keep him inside to rot aboveground until Jin comes to pick you up off the island?

This whole place was his home alone. You suppose it would be his tomb alone, too. The thought keeps you up at night, trembling fingers pressed against his neck and wrists, trying to tell if that thud is his life essence or your own terrified pulse.

In the early hours of the fourth morning, it strikes you that there’s no reason to keep him in the stables. While Lily has been a loyal companion, it’s far from all your necessities and you have no doubt lying on a pile of hay wearing nothing but underclothes and a blanket for days on end is particularly comfortable.

It feels a little wrong to move him, at first, but once you put your will to it, you get the strangest premonition that this might be enough movement and life to rouse him, that perhaps if you got him settled nicely in his bed, he might recognise the smell and decide to wake.

Whether it’s overtiredness or denial that brings about this hope, you latch onto it and whisper promises to Lily that you’ll take care of him.

He’s a little lighter in your arms without wet clothes, but still the dead weight makes you wobble precariously up the stairs. Several times you almost believe he shifted in your grasp, but you’re stumbling about too much to be sure.

You make it to his room, starting to grow a little stale with lack of use, and gently tip him onto the mattress.

He bounces on it, the blanket dislodging and revealing his bare chest. Flushing, you turn away and busy yourself in his closet, trying to find a tunic or robe that would be easily put on for his privacy.

You’re so focused that you almost miss it.

The softest voice, calling out your name.

You go ramrod stiff, turning around like something’s about to jump out at you. Taehyung has a hand pressed to his face, fumbling over the slightly crusty handkerchief tied onto it. You watch in near disbelief as he groans again, bare toes wiggling near the edge of the bed.

“Y/n,” he calls out weakly again, “you have not left me, have you?”

This thaws your frozen body in an instant, and you rush to the side of the bed, tripping in your haste and banging awkwardly on your knees at the bedside. “Taehyung, I’m here, can you hear me?”

He swallows, a slow and laboured movement, before replying. When he does, his voice is a little clearer. “Of course I can, my dear, my ears appear to be intact.”

You almost can’t talk, half-scared he’s some kind of mirage from your tired brain. How does he sound, well, fine? As if waking from a rejuvenating sleep. “Your… your head doesn’t hurt?”

His smile quirks. It’s been far too long since you’ve seen it, and your heart pangs sharply when it vanishes with a grimace. “Alas, it pains me greatly. Never mind it, I have no issue with enduring the consequences of my actions. I don’t suppose you have water on hand? My throat feels rather dry.”

You inform him you’ll fetch some from the kitchen, and he hums sweetly, letting his eyes slip closed again. Spilling a third of it on the floor along the way as you rush, you make it back to the room in record time, praying he hasn’t fallen back under.

Quite the contrary, he’s sitting up in bed, propped by pillows and stretching out the muscles of his limbs methodically. He glances up, almost shocked at your frazzled state. “You seem unlike yourself,” Taehyung comments mildly, accepting the glass with a grateful stroke of your hand.

The contact electrifies you, and you stubbornly push down the urge to take him in your arms, instead clutching at the bed as you kneel back down by the edge of it. “You’ve been unconscious for almost four days.” Your voice is flat, but you know the sting in your eyes betrays your emotion. “Do you not remember falling off a cliff, Taehyung?”

“Four…?” The curly-haired man blinks in a daze, brows pulling together as he shakes his head lightly. Letting out a sigh, the worry lifts from his face, and he downs the last of his water, eyes warm as they regard you. “Ah, the cliff. I slipped a little, perhaps, but I wasn’t too worried. The cows needed tending. I apologise for scaring you, but I really am quite alright.”

“Scaring me?” you echo, incredulous. “You petrified me, Taehyung. What were you thinking?”

His eyes are faraway, twinkling as he stares up at the ceiling. “I had an angel looking over me.”

Shaking your head emphatically, you let out a noise of frustration, though it’s so thick with concern that there’s no bite to it. “Tae, you climbed up a slippery slope in the middle of a raging storm. What help is a celestial being going to be when you put yourself in danger like that?”

“You misunderstand me,” he corrects gently, finally focusing back in to meet your exasperated stare. “You are my angel.”

Your anger evaporates into a strange sense of hopelessness. “You could’ve died,” you state weakly, chin sinking to rest on your folded arms.

His eyes go a little cloudy then, regretful. “I am relieved I didn’t. When I fell, when you found me-” he breaks off with a small sigh, gaze skirting around you, “-I couldn’t make out your face through the rainwater in my eyes. It was… troubling to me. That I might leave this earth without seeing you one more time.”

Your nose twitches violently, and your eyes well up, unable to contain the swell of mixed emotion inside you. “Tae, don’t speak like that,” you plead, lip quirking to try and make light, “you’re just flattering me because I nursed you back to health.”

Instead of easing at your attempted joke, Taehyung’s face darkens in hurt. “I do understand that you don’t return them, but please do not trivialise my feelings. They are all I have here.”

You don’t quite know what to say like that. Your heart races, such a heavy thud that you wonder if he can feel the vibration through the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you land on, though it’s weak and doesn’t quite encompass all you wish to say. At his tense nod, you try again. “It’s… it’s not true.”

His mouth tilts down in confusion. “What is not true?”

You can’t bear to look at him. You can’t bear to look away. “That I don’t return your feelings.”

Taehyung stays silent for a moment, watching you carefully as your cheeks heat. When he moves, he does so with a careful sigh, fingers stretching out to brush along the back of your hand light enough to tickle. He doesn’t linger on it, letting his hand fall back to his lap.

“You have to think carefully now, my love,” he begins in a measured tone. “This has only happened to me once before and- it isn’t clean. Your contract will end, and we will part. I made the decision last time to seek love, and it very nearly killed me. I adore you far more than is wise, considering the heartbreak I’ve felt before, but I would choose it again. I would choose you and all the pain your absence would ignite. But this is not a decision I make lightly, nor one I can make alone.”

Taehyung’s voice is hushed, a smokey whisper intended only for you. “We can grow closer and face what may come, or we can protect our hearts and remain as we were, as friends and companions. I will take my lessons, and that will be it. I will not turn to anger for it. Please choose wisely.”

With the way he begins to settle himself deeper into the sheets, it’s clear he expects you to take your leave and think it over for a while. But this exact dilemma has been in your mind for far too long, and his near-death experience has provided clarity enough that you don’t wish to waste any more time. “I choose you, Taehyung. If you’ll have me.”

His eyes seek you out. The deep brown belies a flicker of gold as his face tentatively lights up. “And you mean that?”

You nod once. “I’m certain.”

“Then… I would very much like to get up and bathe, so that I may accompany you for- lunch? Breakfast? Whatever the hour is, I find myself rather peckish.”

“Of course!” You stand up quick enough to make your vision blur. “I’ll go make something, are you okay on your own?”

He glances down the side of the bed to the carpeted floor. “Oh, I should think so,” he mentions casually, voice rich with mirth, “it’s not as far a fall as the cliffs.” When Taehyung smiles, you feel your heart race at his beauty. Dark curls have even more volume from going unbrushed for days, and his cheeks are pink. He looks cherubic, angelic, and it takes considerable energy to remember your prior words and leave his side.

The biggest change between the two of you for a while is your proximity.

Taehyung still suffers from occasional headaches, and he walks with a gingerness you hadn’t seen from him before, so neither of you attempt anything out of the ordinary, but no longer do you sit side by side on the couch, or at opposite ends of the table.

Now, you run your fingers through his hair as he lays on your lap in the evenings, and mealtimes are lengthened with interludes of Taehyung holding your hand, or offering you bites from his own plate. His gaze lingers more than his touch, no longer attempting to keep his feelings subtle - if such a thing were ever true.

It isn’t unwelcome; on the contrary, you cherish your time spent with him even more. It feels almost like a fairytale, more so on this island that is entirely bereft of societal obligation or routine. There’s nothing to stop you from spending an entire day in the library, reading out passages that remind you of each other. You can waste away hours attempting to draw portraits, or take long walks through the gardens without concern of how the time is passing.

But perhaps your favourite moments together with him still are his lessons.

These days, you teach him piano with your sides pressed together, his fingers playing over yours as he shadows your movements. He often feigns difficulty in his scales or timing, requesting that you aid him if only to hear you play again.

Truthfully, he’s an incredibly talented student, and when you encourage him enough, he’ll play for you beautifully, rocking on the stool in rhythm.

“It sounds more full when you play, love,” he divulges one day, tapping lightly enough on a key that it barely sounds out, a whisper of a C sharp. He’d been attempting a relatively complex Beethoven piece and would’ve mastered it were it not for his insistence on having you repeat the bars each time he attempted it. “How does that trill go again?”

You bury a smile, reaching up to seek out the right keys. “You know it,” you rebuke softly as you let your fingers flutter over the piano, sweet notes echoing in the large room, “you did it perfectly yesterday.”

“After the accident, my memory is not as it used to be,” he responds, lifting his chin. “I have forgotten it.”

“Then why were you up at 5am this morning practicing without me?” you question mischievously. You’d heard him in the moments were your sleep was light, and had sat up in bed to listen to him play. The sound was muffled through the walls, but you recognised the tune, even going further than the pages you’d taught him before. “Gotcha,” you tease, picking up his hands by the wrists and depositing them in place. “You’re a maestro in the making, Taehyung, don’t you wish to make your teacher proud?”

With one eyebrow raised in challenge, Taehyung concedes. “Alright,” he allows, fingering the ivory, “I was simply wishing to savour the piece as long as possible in the hopes that Captain Kim might have a new one for us when he next comes. I should like to know if any of my favourite musicians have composed something new in these past few months.”

You nod in understanding with a small smile, but something ugly pangs in your chest. Guilt. All of his favourite musicians have been dead for over a hundred years, and he has no idea.

“Are you alright, love? You look away with the fairies? We can end the lesson if you’re tired.”

You shake your head at his worried words, pushing down that sickly emotion. “I’m okay, just zoned out for a moment. Come on; I wanna hear you do the whole thing, we only have a page and a half left.”

“And now,” he starts, his voice suddenly booming and his shoulders high, “all the way from a faraway island, playing Beethoven’s best, it’s Taehyung! Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy.”

You try to let yourself relax and enjoy his beautiful playing, resting your head lightly on his shoulder, but like needles, guilty thoughts prick your conscience. He doesn’t even know his last name.

Taehyung takes the bandage off after a week.

The skin there is a little pale from lack of sunlight, but his eye is bright as ever, blinking happily as his full vision is returned. A partially-healed scar dips from his temple to just behind his ear, silvery-pink.

The headaches aren’t as bad these days, he says, and with his return to health, a strange, childlike excitement arises between you. He holds onto your hand longer when you go for walks, he tucks his chin into the crook of your neck when he hugs you goodnight, lie in his bed in the evenings, legs tangled, talking about nothing and everything for hours before you return to your own room.

But still, you find yourself hesitating. The nature of your deception follows you like a dark cloud. You promised yourself to him, and yet you’re a dam that’s holding him back from the truth of the world. How easy would it be to let something slip and confess all you knew?

These days, he’s reading David Copperfield. While he usually speeds through novels at an alarming pace, it takes him a long time to progress in the Dickens book. In your moments alone, you spot him taking it out and curling up on the couch, holding it close to his chest.

You aren’t familiar with it, so you ask to read it once he’s finished, and a strange look flickers across his face. He agrees, but the answer is so uncertain that you decide not to bring it up again.

Instead, you let him enjoy his private moments, not pressing him. There are plenty of things to do on the island and in the house on your own, anyway, and truth be told you don’t mind the time to think.

It’s one of these days apart. Last you saw, Taehyung is in the field with Lily, reading his book under a tree. She’s more protective of him these days, and if he’s outside, so is she.

You’ve spent the morning at the beach yourself, enjoying the salty air and the sunwarm sand. It feels like the days are going by faster than you can count them, even though you do very little with the time.

Although you’d chosen to pursue something more, it feels like both Taehyung and you are hesitating, procrastinating, and while you know your lingering guilt is what’s holding you back, you can’t help but run circles in your mind trying to work out what his reason is.

There are only a few days before Jin’s next trip. That means the two of you have just over two months left together before you leave him. Is he having second thoughts? Is he remembering his first love, and wondering if it’s all worth it?

You squint at the horizon as if Jin’s ship is going to breach it any moment now. You wonder what he’d say if you told him you’d fallen in love with Taehyung. You wonder if he also feels this overwhelming remorse about keeping Taehyung in the dark.

Every day now, right when the two of you get closer than close, and you think he might be leaning in even more, the urge to spill your secrets floods your system, and you find yourself unable to match the distance.

The sun has passed its zenith; you’ve been here, in this one spot, long enough that the afternoon is hooking it back down again.

You’d be content to spend the day here, running through your options over and over as if the magical solution will spring forth from them, but as if he can hear your thoughts, Taehyung appears.

“Mind if I sit?”

You glance up, startled, and see him casting a shadow over you, the sun making his curls glow burnished bronze. He has a single hand splayed out, gesturing at the sand beside you.

“I mean, it’s a little crowded, but if you can find a spot,” you respond back, rewarded by the smile he sends you at the quip.

“This is an extremely popular destination, I’m not surprised.” He sits down beside you, less dressed than usual. It’s a hot day, and instead of his trimmed suits and cummerbunds, all he wears is a loose cotton blouse, such a pale beige that it shows the shadow of his skin, and a pair of tan pants that clung slightly around his thighs when he crosses his legs. “I wanted to see you.”

“Missed me?”

He simply lifts his brows. “You’d be surprised.”

“I want to ask you something,” you blurt suddenly, half-surprised at the statement. He pauses, leaning on his knees and pinning you with his gaze. “Are you- Are you happy here? You don’t want to go out and explore the world?”

Taehyung tilts his head like he’s confused at the question. “I- Well, I do believe I’m happy. And I can live well here. I have you, and I have Lily, and my art. My home is beautiful.”

This answer doesn’t satisfy you for some reason, and you shift, nervous about your loosening tongue. “Yes, but aren’t you curious? There’s a whole world out there. You barely even ask me what it’s like.”

His face goes solemn, voice a low rumble. “Do you want me to ask about it? What would you be able to tell me?”

Your blood runs cold for a moment, the air freezing in your lungs. Does he…? “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, Taehyung straightens up again and sends you a soft smile before turning to watch the waves. “I have my art,” he says again, “my books, my music. I get the good things. The beautiful things. Perhaps ignorance can be a beautiful thing, too. I’ll listen to anything you have to say, my love, but I do feel happy with all I have here. Are you worried about me?” he asks, head crooking to send you a wry grin, teeth poking through.

You take in a slow breath. This is something you didn’t consider, that maybe only having the niceties wasn’t entirely cruel at all. But even as you consider letting him keep his ignorance, it feels wrong still.

He was a human, and he deserved the dignity to choose whether he stayed here or ventured out into the world, but right now he didn’t have all the information to make a true choice.

As you watch his eyes wander over you aimlessly, so filled with love that it makes his whole face gleam, you make your decision.

“I- Taehyung, I need to tell you something, but… I want to do something first.” Before I open Pandora’s box, you think.

A flicker of seriousness returns to him, but doesn’t soften the warmth as he reaches over to grasp your arm gently, just above the elbow. “Of course, my love. What is it?”

You take your time lifting your chin to him. Partially to give him time to move away if he wasn’t interested, but partly from the anxiety in your heart that this was all a mistake.

You hear him suck in a breath, thumb stroking over your arm, searing hot through the linen of your dress, but he remains in place, letting you join the gap.

When your lips touch for the first time, it feels like a balloon pops inside you. You jolt with the shock of how soft he is against you, slightly salty from sea air.

You can feel his lip curl up, and in the milimeter between you, he whispers your name like an oath.

It’s the first time, but you kiss him like it’s the last. The arm not in Taehyung’s soft embrace comes up to hook around his shoulder and neck, keeping him close, and he tilts his face to deepen the kiss in approval.

He’s a gentleman all the way, never more than the lightest flicker of his tongue against your lips, but still it’s the most intense kiss you’ve ever had. You feel ablaze like a forest fire, burning bright together under the afternoon sun.

Everything is Taehyung, his lips, his hands, his curls tickling your brow, and you hold yourself to him for as long as you have air in your lungs.

When you pull away, you’re gasping for it, front feeling cold with his absence. He’s blinking away the daze, lips swollen and hair mussled, with one hand buried in the sand for support.

“I-” You swallow away the lump in your throat that lingers, “I hope that was okay.”

Taehyung simply crooks a smile. “I have been waiting for this very moment for quite some time now, my love. It is far more than okay.” His face falls just enough to be noticeable. “What is it you wished to tell me?”

It feels like a bucket of cold seawater has been dumped over you. Reality kicks back in faster than you’re prepared for. “Taehyung,” you begin, almost stumbling over his name itself in your nervousness, “why are you on this island?”

He blinks, frowns, and shakes his head. “Well, this is my home.”

“But why?” you insistently question. “Everyone else in the world is born and lives in a community, a society. The real world. Why are you here, alone?”

The brunette is still, eyes not leaving yours even as his jaw tightens. “You know why. Is that what you wish to tell me?”

Dumbfounded, you reflexively shake your head. “I don’t understand. You’ve never wondered the reason? Never tried to ask anyone until now? You just… don’t know?”

“I’ve simply been informed that this is my place in the world,” he answers at length, voice stiff like he’s reluctant to part with the knowledge, or like he isn’t quite used to saying it aloud. “And what is the point of interrogating one of my tutors further? I’m Socrates’ prisoner, Y/n.” He waves a vague hand around, indicating the island. “This is my shadows in the cave. Perhaps it’s more simplistic than your reality, but it’s all I know.”

Indecision roils angrily in your stomach. A throb has appeared in the back of your head, sharp and unrelenting. “Do you… Would you want to know what it was like?”

It takes him a moment, but Taehyung shrugs, shoulders lifting gracefully under the thin cotton of his shirt. “It seems like you wish to tell me.”

That’s not the black-and-white answer you’re hoping for. Frustrated, you exhale a rough breath. “Taehyung, you’re living a lie,” you confess.

“Quite a nice one,” he remarks simply with a small quirk of his lip, eyes darting to yours before he looks out again at the slowly setting sun. “I imagine there are many people beyond this ocean who are living very painful and unpleasant truths.”

You find yourself lost for words, feeling somewhat defeated. “I guess that’s true… Taehyung, I- I don’t know.”

Taehyung reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek and chin, pulling an unconscious smile from you. “Anything you desire to tell me, I shall happily listen to.”

The smile doesn’t fade, but your uncertainty is still smoldering away within you. But still, now that you’ve started the conversation, you don’t think you can walk away from it - and eventually from him - knowing that he might be wondering. “I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“That’s kind of you, my love. I’m all ears.”

You get the strangest sensation that while he’s not averse to finding out, he doesn’t seem all that curious either. But then again, you can’t begin to imagine how you would react in this kind of situation. He has no idea of how much he doesn’t know about the world, that perhaps it doesn’t feel as important as you think it is.

Pushing on nonetheless, you adjust yourself in the sand to face him head-on. He mirrors you, raising his eyebrow in what appears to be amusement at your somber disposition.

“Taehyung,” you begin, “your father did something terrible. Has anyone told you anything about him, or your mother?”

“What did he do?” he asks instead, eyes locked on yours more intently now.

“He got a lot of people killed. Children among them. You were a baby at the time, Tae, and they were worried about you and your wellbeing if you were raised in that kind of environment.”

“They,” he muses wryly to himself. “Why did they not send me to another country, then? Or simply hand me into an orphanage as a nobody?”

“That’s…” you suck in a deep breath. “I mean, I can’t tell you for sure, but in our world, we have a lot of- of modern inventions that make it very easy to find out information about anything. I think they felt that nowhere you were registered would be safe enough for you.”

Something strange crosses Taehyung then, like a ghost or a shadow passing over. He sinks into himself slightly, and the light air evaporates. He watches you with baleful eyes. “Did they tell you it was for my safety?”

You blink. “You- know them? And why is that…?” You can’t quite process the words he says in time, and you feel your brain racing to keep up with potential implications and hidden meanings. “Taehyung, what is going on?”

To avoid looking into your eyes, he plunges his hand into the sand and pulls loose a handful, watching the golden grains pour through his splayed fingers. When he speaks, his voice is rueful. “I have not been entirely honest with you either. To tell you the truth now, I was waiting. Waiting to see if you would do exactly this.”

“Waiting to do what? What do you mean, not being honest with me?”

“I have been acting entirely naive of your world when that is not the case. Captain Kim, Jin, he tells me what he can. I have not met the ones that put me here as an infant, but he has explained my unique predicament as far as he sees it. I am happy to accept this fate, but it deeply troubles Jin. He hides it well, is excellent at playing innocent, though all the while is digging into this matter as deep as he can.”

“Jin told you everything? Not just about you, but about… the world? Technology, current affairs?”

“Ah, how current could it be when I only have the pleasure of his company six days a year?” Taehyung questions rhetorically. “He provides important updates in my case should there be any, and otherwise shares news from the outside world.”

You frown. “When did he have the chance to tell you that stuff? We were with him together.”

Taehyung’s smile is rich with mirth, eyes glinting through his low-hanging curls. “I believe you’ll find if I lend you my copy of David Copperfield, it will have less about Victorian England and more about the new anti-discrimination policy in South Korea. I must say, out of the whole world, I find myself most fascinated with them. They are the people that rejected me, but they are still my people.”

Reeling from this, you sink your chin into your hands. He had been extremely protective over the novel, but never would you have guessed that the ship captain was the one smuggling modern information into Taehyung’s limited world. “What- what about your case then? What is Jin finding out?”

When Taehyung beams again, it’s faraway and nostalgic. “He works with some people together on it. The son of the man who put me here, I believe you know him?”

“Hoseok?” you question, internally pleased he was one of the people helping out.

“That’s right,” Taehyung confirms. “I wish I could meet him to thank him personally. But him, and many of my past tutors… They connect in secret, trying to expose the nature of my exile to the world. It appears the decision to leave me here is considered among those in the know to be a mistake, though the ones in charge are the rare few who maintain its secrecy. Jin believes they fear the public reproach for their actions. You’ve met one of them; would you agree?”

“I-” You don’t have to think for much. “He seemed nice, but knowing the way most people in power are - yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “I find it a shame that those words are true of your society. But nevertheless, Jin and his band of renegades are seeking to reveal me to the world and return me to modern society. It shall be quite a spectacle, I do not doubt.”

You frown, brows furrowing at the serene look on his face. “But do you want that? The spectacle?”

Silence blooms between you. Slowly, his slight smile turns melancholy. “I don’t believe I do.”

He falls silent after that, and despite your best effort to put your thoughts into order, to comment on how sad you find that lack of control, you can’t quite work out what to say.

You keep each other’s quiet company until the dusk air begins to chill your skin, and then you make your way back to the house, wasting away the last of the evening with the violin and the piano ebbing away at the solemn hush.

As the weeks go by, the weather cools, leaving you ever-aware of your shrinking time together. Both of you quietly dreading the news Jin might bring.

You spend more and more time tangled in his arms, kissing until you feel dizzy with it, but he never once takes it further. You’re not sure if it’s hesitance or reverence, but you’re quite content with what he chooses to give you.

Taehyung improves further in his studies, exponentially so. It’s hard to believe he’s only been learning it for four months, but his background in other instruments paired with the frenetic enthusiasm he’s garnered recently no doubt contribute to his quick proficiency.

The lessons get longer, but they don’t tire you. Instead, your heart swells with pride and fondness at his progress and his beautiful playing. He picks up on the emotion of each piece more than even you can; it’s no rare occasion that you feel yourself on the verge of tears or even laughter from his nimble fingers and the gorgeous bars they produce.

Like that fateful storm was flagging the end of the season, the weather begins to cool. The seawinds that rip up the coast are not as balmy as before, and you find the night air brings a unique chill once the sun reliquishes its hold.

As autumn closes in, the season of harvest begins, and Taehyung takes it upon himself to teach you how to tell when different fruits and vegetables are ripe, when to pluck them from their roots. Ever-diligent, he makes sure that the reserves of grain and feed for the animals are enough to last until Jin’s arrival and then some, and that the two of you don’t eat too many rations before he comes.

“You never know,” he mentions one day, “sometimes the ship can’t come on time for whatever reason.”

The two of you are enjoying a picnic in the midday warmth, savouring it while it lasts. A blanket covers a patch of grass in the back field, providing you a scenic view of the mountain’s crest to enjoy over sandwiches and cakes.

Taehyung is lying on his back, elbows propping himself up as he soaks in the warm rays. The golden light skips along his features, highlighting the moles and blemishes of his skin, but it only makes him look more heavenly. You get so caught up in observing him that you realise belatedly that he’s continued your prior conversation.

You hastily swallow down your mouthful of tangy lemonade. “Does that happen often?”

“Not outside of the stormy seasons,” Taehyung divulges. “Once, when I was a young boy - before Jin’s time, even - the ship took damage on a different route. It took a month to be fully repaired. It was my first winter without a carer, and I did not think it unwise to eat indulgently from the stores. I drained them bare, and spent three weeks scavenging on the island, eating what I could. I was foolish. Never again.”

You frown. “You were a child,” you state emphatically.

“Perhaps,” he admits stiffly, running a hand through his hair to bare his forehead, before the curls spring back, “but I did not have the luxury of a parent to hold my hand and tell me right from wrong. I learnt responsibility the hard way, but I learnt it quickly.”

“How old were you?” you ask softly, stomach curling. “When your carer first left?”

He has to think on it for a moment. “I believe I was eight years old.”

The number strikes through you like an icicle. “I- Tae, I’m so sorry. That’s inhumane. What if you’d died?”

He smiles guilelessly, eyes bleak. “My death is not an issue for them, Y/n, not really. Would it not make their lives easier? What they provide me is a courtesy. Something that, if word got out, they could use to ease the blow of their actions. But do not believe that they truly care about my safety. I am their skeleton in the closet.”

You watch him carefully from across the picnic blanket. He’s dressed up today, as if for the occasion of a picnic with you, but chosen to leave his suit jacket folded over on the grass. What remains reveals more of his figure, from the fitted cornflower blue shirt, tight cummerbund, and ankles peeking between his brown pant cuffs and black shoes.

Most of all, you take in his expression. There’s acceptance there, a bittersweet understanding of his place in the world, at least the world they’ve created for him. A branch of the government of a country he didn’t really understand, dictating his exile. You believe that’s the melancholy note in his eyes you saw in that very first picture of him, way back in your home country when Hoseok was briefing you.

It upsets you to see it now, when for so long his face had been brighter with your company. It’s that desire to see the sun glint in his eyes again that has you blurting it out.

“We could run away, you know. Just the two of us.”

Taehyung seems startled at your suggestion, brows furrowing. “Without anyone knowing? It doesn’t seem possible. My only hope of leaving this island is the whistleblowing Jin and Hoseok are working towards.”

You rack your brain, thinking back to you contract. You’d signed away your privacy forever in an instant, and only now are you realising the implications of why that might’ve been a necessary component of your employment. “There must be another way,” you mumble, heart aching for him.

“I’ve been informed they have quite a significant power in that society,” Taehyung explains gently, eyes soft, “and Hoseok worries that we do not have the resources to keep my return and continued presence there a secret. None of us know what would happen if we broke this isolation.”

He watches you, but you stay silent, sullen. “I know you only wish well for me,” he continues. “But I ask for your understanding when I tell you that this is something I fear, and a risk I am not willing to take. Besides,” he states, more lightly than before, “I will not leave Lily behind.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you offer up, but you know the matter is closed. He’s right, you do understand that, but the situation feels so unfair that it’s difficult to accept it. You reach out for a slice of almond cake and munch quietly, trying to remind yourself that life back home wouldn’t necessarily be better for him just because it’s modern. Just because it’s what you know. “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to be, my love. To be candid with you, even if Jin and Hoseok decide to reveal the nature of my situation to the world, I’m not sure I would wish to join society. Travel, yes, I long to see the world, but it is not mine to live in. As much as I can’t ask you to stay in mine. You see?”

Your eyes sting. You’ve been so focussed on trying to liberate Tae from this all that you almost forgot your own contract was ending. What would it be like, going back to the real world, leaving him behind? You don’t think you’re ready to conceive it yet. “I see.”

Taehyung sends you a smile, then, wise and sympathetic. “The air is turning cool. Let’s go back inside.”

That’s the last you two speak of it until Jin comes.

He arrives a day early, catching the two of you off-guard in your blissful denial.

So caught up in a stroll along the back beach where the shells were the pearliest, he’s already docked the ship and is inside with a cup of tea and a biscuit by the time you get back inside.

“So,” he starts off immediately,” an intelligent glint in his eye, “been having a pleasant time?”

Never one to mince words, Taehyung pulls him into a brief but tight hug and nods once. “A tantalising mix of love and near-death experiences.”

Jin freezes, rubber boots squeaking on the marble flooring. “What was that last part?”

You chew on the inside of your lip as Taehyung recounts the story jovially, pulling out a chair for you and for him as he goes. It still baffles you just how casual and unruffled he can be about his own safety, and to your relief it seems to upset Jin just as much.

“You know I love you, old chap, so please know that I mean this wholeheartedly, but you are absolutely insane.”

Taehyung blinks, lips curving down. “You don’t have to speak like me anymore. She knows that I know. We’ve shared everything.”

Jin lets out a deep sigh, and using the backs of his knuckles he pushes his small china plate further away from him. “I- That’s great, Tae. I had wondered… But don’t try to change the subject. How can you care so little about your own life when there are many who care for you? When there are countless animals on this island that need you to care for them?”

With a shrug, Taehyung sobers up. “It was exactly because I cared for them that I went out there in the rain. And I am very aware of my situation, Captain. My death would cause very few ripples, and I know you know it too.”

Jin stiffens when Taehyung uses his title. He looks pained, wrinkles around his eyes looking more weathered than moments before. “You’ve always been so frivolous with your own life,” he sighs, voice a low rumble. “Look, kid, I didn’t come here to lecture you. In fact… Well, the reason I’m early is because I brought a visitor.”

Selfishly, a zing shoots down your spine like you’ve been betrayed. “A new tutor? But my contract isn’t up yet.”

But Taehyung is locked in on Jin, gaze intent. “Who is it? Where are they?”

“He was sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake him,” Jin explains, “but he should be…” The sea captain trails off as a faint click sounds out through the near-empty villa.

The three of you fall silent and listen to the sounds that echo out. You can picture it so clearly; the clack of boots on the marble, the whip-like swish of laces being tugged through eyelets, and finally the dull thumping of socked feet.

A voice calls out a word unfamiliar to you, “hyung?”, and Taehyung goes stiff like he’s been shocked, eyes flying wide open, facing the doorway to the kitchen.

“He just finished his service, was discharged yesterday.” Jin’s voice is soft, and if it wasn’t for the minute twitch in Taehyung’s fingers, you would think he wasn’t even listening. “The first thing he did was call me and ask if he could make it in time to come see you.”

“To come see me,” Taehyung repeats numbly,  barely audible. The moment a tall figure rounds the corner, he sucks in a strangled breath, lips moving soundlessly.

You manage to tear your gaze from Taehyung and look in the doorway instead. The man standing there is young, perhaps Taehyung’s age, and his hair is dark, cropped tight around his ears and slightly longer on the top, like the military buzzcut has started to grow out. One ear has piercings running up its length, and you see the glimpse of tattoos curling around his right wrist. What shocks you most, however, is the modern clothes he’s wearing.

After spending months in dresses and pinafores, and seeing nobody but Taehyung in his fine attire, you’ve almost forgot what streetwear looks like, and it seems so dissonant in the context of the house. He’s in all black; an oversize t-shirt is partly tucked into tough-looking camo pants with bulky pockets. Tucked under one arm is a leather jacket.

Despite his intimidating outfit and muscular build, you find yourself most drawn in by the gentle look on his face. He has high cheeks that puff up with a small smile, eyes glittering as he calls out Taehyung’s name in a sweet tone.

Jin leans back in his chair, content to watch the interaction, looking fond as if they’re his family reuniting.

You feel like you could be intruding on a private moment, but you’re fascinated at the introduction of this new figure, the first other person you’ve seen since you said goodbye to Hoseok at the docks four months ago.

The man takes another step forward, almost shy, and with that, the dam breaks.

Taehyung leaps up with such intensity that he catches his hip on the table, lifting it off the floor and dropping it with a bang. He doesn’t so much as flinch at the loud noise, already rushing forward to capture the visitor in a tight hug, face buried deeply in the crook of his neck.

As if reflexively, the man’s hand comes up Taehyung’s back and cups the nape of his neck, holding him there with closed eyes and a trembling smile. “I missed you,” he whispers quietly, thick with emotion.

This only makes Taehyung burrow in deeper, looking small in the beefier man’s embrace. “I’ve thought about you every day since you left,” he confesses, pulling away enough to look him in the eye, but gripping onto his forearms with enough force to turn his knuckles white. “Jungkook, you’ve changed so much.”

“Not in the ways that matter, hyung,” the man, Jungkook, responds emphatically. The term isn’t one you recognise from your studies about the 1800s, so you guess it’s something specific to Jungkook, but it doesn’t take much to work out it’s a term of endearment. “You haven’t changed at all. More handsome, maybe.”

Taehyung almost melts at that, shoulders slipping low. “Will you stay this time, love?”

With that last word, your nervous system freezes over. The mention of the Jungkook Taehyung had once told you about comes rushing back. The one who used to tutor him, the one who brought him a tiger as a pet, his first love. Of course.

For the first time in nearly four months, you feel like you don’t belong here.

Instead of affirming entirely, Jungkook reaches out and places a broad palm on Taehyung’s cheek, brows lowering to emphasise his words. “We need to sit down and talk, hyung. All of us.” His gaze lifts to Jin, who nods back solemnly, and then to you. “I’m so sorry, how rude of me! I better introduce myself.”

Taehyung turns, letting his hands drop from Jungkook’s arms. You can’t help the way your heart leaps when you make eye contact with him again, the jealous urge to run up and kiss him silly. Instead, you reassure yourself with the fondness in his eyes. “It’s okay,” you answer Jungkook, “my name is Y/n, it’s nice to meet you. Taehyung told me about you.”

“Did he?” Jungkook’s eyes glint with a mix of mirth and delight. “I’m glad to hear I wasn’t forgotten.”

“I could never-” Taehyung starts fervently, head shaking at the mere suggestion. “I thought you would never return, Jungkook.”

There’s not enough chairs for four people. Instead, Jungkook pulls up a chest from the kitchen, the one you keep your salted meats in, and straddles it like a stool. You don’t miss how Taehyung scoots his chair closer to him, as if he might disappear at any moment. “I’m sorry, hyung. I had to leave. I know it didn’t feel… fair, but it was for the best. I went to university, did you know that?”

Taehyung perks up a little, though uncertainty clouds his gaze. “I thought you went into the military.”

Jungkook nods once. “I- at the time, I got accepted into my university, in a really good program, and I decided to put off my consignment until after I graduated.”

“You graduated?”

Jungkook grins wryly at Taehyung’s question. “Of course I did, hyung, can you imagine me quitting? I’m now qualified to teach Korean as a foreign language.”

You pipe up, curious about what his life was like after leaving a job placement like this. “Why did you choose that? Tae said you did carpentry here.”

Jungkook seems pleased that Taehyung passed that information to you, and nods at you warmly. Despite only just being reunited with his first love, the man gives you his full attention, seeming genuinely interested in making conversation with you. It makes your jealousy simmer down to a low smoulder.

“Well, I was actually the first other Korean person to accept the tutor gig. Most of the people before then had been from… England, was it?”

“England and Wales,” Taehyung adds in lightly, voice all quiet and contented. “When Jungkook came, I barely knew Korea existed. I had no idea why all the painting prints I’d seen didn’t look like me.”

Jungkook presses his lips together, eyes distant in memory. “I had been learning English since elementary school, but I was pretty rubbish at it. When I first got on the island, hyung and I practically had to mime to communicate anything. I’d never heard an accent like his, really.”

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer. “You looked so young back then, like a deer. The biggest eyes I’d ever seen. Despite how grown-up you appear now, you have the same eyes, love. I’d recognise them anywhere.”

With a hand reaching over to gently grasp at Taehyung’s, Jungkook continues his piece. “You pick things up quickly, in a situation like that. I could speak near fluently by the time I returned to South Korea, and I like to think I taught hyung the important things in Korean, too.”

Taehyung interjects to mumble something in Korean, too quick for you to even catch the syllables. But both Jin and Jungkook react, the former smiling sadly, and the latter leaning in close to rest his head on Taehyung’s shoulder briefly. “Me too,” he whispers back, fingers intertwined tightly.

Jungkook sits up to continue, though their hands remain linked. “Anyways, I had always dreamed of bringing Taehyung home with me, but I knew it would be difficult enough for him to navigate modern life without an added language barrier. So I decided to become a better teacher for him.”

Taehyung straightens up, eyes almost feverish. “So you left to- to help me?”

“I was always gonna come back for you, hyung. Surely you must have known that.”

Fiddling with his cuffs, Taehyung nods. “I’m just relieved you’re with me again. But Jungkook… There’s something you must know. Y/n and I…”

You jerk a little in your seat with the surprise of it. You’d felt a bit like a leftover, no longer needed, but Taehyung ropes you back in with an ease. While one hand remains connected to Jungkook, the other reaches out to link with one of yours.

Relishing in the contact, you squeeze his hand fondly even as you watch Jungkook and Jin’s reactions with anticipation.

Jin just smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “What are the odds, huh? Finding love twice in the middle of nowhere.”

“If you’ve moved on, hyung, I understand,” Jungkook offers up kindly, voice low.

“No, of course not, I-” Taehyung shakes his head intently. “My love is not a monologue, Jungkook, it is an orchestra, and I am allowed to love you both. I do love you both. And Jin… while not with the same intent, I love you too.”

“Hey, no harm, no foul,” Jin jibes easily, “there’s no need to explain. I love you, Tae, you’re the little brother I never had. This does put us in a difficult situation, though. Where do we go from here?”

Taehyung lets out a slow sigh, tugging both of his hands - still attached - into his lap. Your fingers twitch when your knuckles brush with Jungkook’s, and he sends you a sly smile like you’re sharing an inside joke. The last of your selfish desires sputter out with how kind and accepting he is, and you feel silly for feeling so envious upon first encountering him.

“Are there any updates on the case?” Jungkook asks Jin carefully when Taehyung fails to respond.

“To be quite frank, we’re running out of time to make a move,” he explains. “Mr. Jung and his colleague are planning on retiring very soon, and Hoseok tells me they have plans to destroy all evidence of what happened with Taehyung entirely.”

You frown. “What does that mean exactly? What changes?”

“First of all, if there’s no evidence, there’s nothing we can use to make them accountable and charge them,” Jin divulges. “And it’s not just the evidence of my shipping routes and the tutor contracts. It’s believed they have everything locked away, including Tae’s birth certificate.”

“And they want to destroy it,” Jungkook summises, looking angry for the first time you’ve seen. His knuckles are white as they grip Tae’s fingers, but the brunette doesn’t even react.

“I would simply cease to exist,” Taehyung offers up in a whisper. His expression is unreadable, his tone level, and you wish you knew what was going on behind those intelligent eyes of his. “So what do you propose?”

Jin pauses for a moment, locking eyes with Jungkook. “Well… There are options.”

“Jin and Hoseok want to bring you to the Hanawon institution,” Jungkook states tightly.

“What is that?” you question. Taehyung also seems unfamiliar, jaw tensing warily.

“It’s a place for North Korean defectors to be educated on South Korean society and helped to settle there safely,” Jin elaborates. “But Hoseok knows someone there that could change Taehyung’s identity. He’d have a chance to learn how to function in the modern world without raising suspicion, and he could live a fulfilling life. It’s the best we’re gonna get, Tae.”

Taehyung looks down to the tangle of hands in his lap. You feel him rub his thumb slowly over your knuckles. “And what would happen to the others?” he asks carefully, not making eye contact.

At this question, Jin shifts in his chair, mouth tight. “That depends. Mr. Jung still has surveillance on past tutors. Even if he destroys the evidence, we’re unsure if he would still keep tabs on them himself to try and stop the word from getting out. It wouldn’t be wise to make contact.”

Taehyung’s head shoots up to look imploringly at Jungkook. “But you are with me now. Are they watching even here?”

Jungkook bites his tongue. “I have a friend living in my apartment, using my gas and electricity and sending correspondence as if he were me. It’s risky, and it won’t be possible for very long.”

“So I would not see you again? See Y/n again?” Taehyung’s voice is strangled, like the very thought is choking him.

You fight the urge to speak up, knowing the decision must be his, but dreading the answer either way.

Jin clears his throat lightly, with a sympathetic smile. “We can’t work miracles, Tae. Perhaps in time, if it seems like they’ve stopped-”

“It’s unacceptable,” the man hisses. You flinch at the intensity in his tone. “I appreciate your efforts, Jin, but this is simply unacceptable. I will not give them up on a ‘perhaps.’ I will not.”

“I understand, it’s a tough decision, but please think-”

“You said there were options.” Taehyung’s nails are digging in lightly, but you don’t think he even realises, shivering in his chair with barely restrained emotion. “What else can I do?”

“You stay here,” Jin states flatly, resigned. “You stay here, and they remove all evidence of you, which means that they’ll never send another tutor again, and the only person you’ll ever see is me dropping off supplies every few months, if they’re kind enough to continue paying me off the records. That’s the other option. Okay? I’m sorry, Tae.”

Despite it not being your future, you find your eyes prickling violently. Everything blurs a little, and you try to blink and sniff away your tears undetected.

On the other side of Taehyung, Jungkook is hanging his head, lifting their clasped hands to press a kiss to Taehyung’s knuckles. “I wish I could give you more,” he says, whispering it against his skin. “I don’t have a solution, hyung, but- I want to offer you something.”

Taehyung frowns, breaths shaky. “What is it, love?”

“I bought a boat off a friend. All cash, there’s no record of it. Not as impressive as Jin’s ship, but she’s seaworthy, and there’s room for two. Maybe three,” he adds, eyes sliding briefly to you. “My friend, the one staying in my apartment, he’s enlisting for his service in 13 months, and he’s promised to hold my place for that long if I need it.”

“Jungkook, what does this all mean?”

“I don’t know what the future holds for you, and I can’t choose for you,” Jungkook begins. Jin’s posture has slackened, but he still maintains the solemn air that’s filled the room. Taehyung has his eyes latched onto Jungkook as if he is the only beam of hope in that despairing haze.

“But I know you,” the black-haired man continues, “I know you always wanted to see the world, just like Fogg and Passepartout. Perhaps you wouldn’t be able to visit cities and towns, but there’s plenty to see from a boat, hyung, and I know there are plenty of uninhabited islands we could see too. I can hunt and fish, and Jin said he’d bring us supplies if we needed them. I wish I could give you forever, hyung, but at least I can give you a year.”

Taehyung looks utterly bewildered, and in his shock, he loosens his grip on your hand, turning to Jin. “We could do it? We could really see the world?”

Jin nods slowly. “It… would be possible,” he states carefully. “It’s risky; it would be much harder to get you accepted into the Hanawon institute in a year’s time with no evidence of your existence to show for it, but we could do it. I know you’d have to give up a lot, Tae, but if you have a year to think on it, then maybe you’ll see that we just want the best for you.”

With a hopeful look in his eyes, Taehyung drops both your hands and stands up, pacing the room. “Well, I- we have to pack! Y/n, gather your things, just the necessities. Jungkook, are your clothes back on the mainland? How long do we have before-”

He freezes suddenly, staring out the kitchen window. You crane your neck and see in the paddocks and fields outside, a streak of orange as Lily lounges in the sun.

The three of you stay silent as Taehyung watches her for a moment, his breathing the only sound. “I can’t go,” he states eventually, sinking into himself and leaning against the kitchen counter with his whole body weight. “I can’t leave her alone.” He furrows his brows. “How big is the boat, Jungkook?”

But even you can hear the way he already knows the answer. Jungkook does too. “Hyung, even if it were a massive cruise liner, we can’t take Lily on a boat. We don’t have enough meat for her. And she needs the open space to roam. I’m sorry. But…” His eyes flicker around the room, unfocused as he thinks of a solution.

Taehyung looks deflated, hollowed out by the fallen hope. “I’ve only just been returned to you, love, I cannot lose you so soon.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” Jungkook admits quietly, low enough that Taehyung can’t hear. Jin reaches over to grip comfortingly at Jungkook’s shoulder, but the brief spark of joy in them all has been extinguished.

At that moment, as Taehyung sinks to the floor and leans back hopelessly against the cabinets, as Jungkook curses himself and Jin helplessly looks back and forth between them, an idea strikes you.

An idea that you would never even have considered were it not for how much you love Tae, and how visibly much him and Jungkook love each other. Or for the fact that you know the expression he got on his face when he read Jules Verne, and the desire he had to see things other than this island.

You had the urge to tell him about the modern world because you believed strongly that he deserved to know and deserved to see it, and now you realise just how much you’re willing to give up to see that through.

“I’ll stay,” you say, and everyone goes still.

Jin is the first one to recover slightly. “What?”

“I’ll stay here with Lily,” you add, avoiding Tae’s eyes, not wanting to see his reaction just yet. “Tae and Jungkook can take the boat, and I can stay here and take care of her. Jin, could you keep doing your routes every three months?”

“Y/n,” Taehyung starts softly, but Jin nods once at you.

“I absolutely could,” he confirms, “if they left, they’d be doing so without informing anyone. Hoseok believes that when they destroy the evidence of the shipping route, they’ll start to pay me cash and forge the records. It seems even those assholes aren’t willing to fully screw Tae over.”

“How can you offer this?” Taehyung asks of you finally, voice cutting deep to your core. You can’t help but turn to face him, heart breaking at the way he looks so small and defeated sitting on the kitchen floor, yet his eyes burn with an intensity at the thought of you staying here alone. “How can you give up a year of your life in exile just for me to delay my own future? I cannot ask that much of you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ll ‘extend’ my contract another year and make sure Lily is safe and healthy here. I can look after the other animals, too. I can even garden now that you’ve taught me. You deserve to see the world, Tae. I want you to go and live.”

“I… Y/n…” He trails off, eyes pained, flickering between you and Jungkook, who simply gives him a small nod. “A year is a long time.”

“It is,” you admit, “but you’ve done it before. I can do it too. Let me do this for you, Tae. I love you, and that means I want you to be happy.”

Taehyung’s nose twitches sharply, his eyes flooding with tears. “I shall miss you terribly.”

You nod, heart racing. Are you really doing this? But you can’t take it back now, and part of your heightened pulse is undoubtably excitement for Taehyung, of all he will finally get to experience alongside the man he loves. “I’ll wait for you. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, but addresses the others. “How much time do we have?”

Jin grimaces. “I have another route leaving from Busan in about 26 hours. I can put it off until tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Taehyung nods grimly. “Then I ask that the two of you make yourselves at home in one of the spare bedrooms in the east wing. I wish to spend this last night with Y/n.”

“Of course,” Jungkook responds immediately, and to your surprise, when he stands, he turns to you first. “What you’re doing is huge, and I owe you a massive thank you. Are you a hugger?”

You smile at his question, happily burrowing yourself in his chest for a tight hug. He’s still very well built from his time in the military, but his embrace is soft and comforting. Even in your short time together, you think you might miss his company too, hoping that when they return the two of you could become friends irrelevant of Tae’s outcome.

Jin hugs you too while Jungkook and Taehyung make their temporary goodnights, and you breathe in his now-familiar musk of sea-salt. “This means a lot, Y/n, to all the people in this room tonight, and more.” When he releases the hug, he leans in closer, voice dropping in secret. “Don’t tell Taehyung, but I could probably adjust my schedule to spend a few days with you each time I visit. How about that?”

You grin at him. “I’ll hold you to that. Goodnight, Jin.”

Without it needing to be spoken aloud, you and Taehyung share a bed for the first time.

You lay curled against him under the sheets, holding onto his arm like an anchor. With your head propped up against his slender chest, you hear every heartbeat, and the warm resonance of his voice as he speaks.

“You can change your mind,” he mumbles. “I would understand.”

“I won’t,” you respond firmly, fingertips trailing lazy patterns on the skin of his arm beneath his nightshirt’s loose sleeve. “I’ve made my decision.”

“May I admit something?” he asks softly into the darkness of the room. You hum your confirmation. “Jin was kind to wish me a fulfilling life by going through the institute. But I believe I would live a more fulfilling life were I allowed to remain on the island with you three.”

You wait for more, but he lapses into silence, mulling on his own words. “Are you asking me to stay when you get back?”

“I will not ask such grandiose sacrifices of you or Jungkook,” he answers. His chin presses on the top of your head, and you sigh into the contact. “It is simply a fantasy.”

“I think I would do it.”

“What?”

You nod, careful not to jostle him. “I would stay with you both, I think. I have a feeling Jungkook would too.”

“What about your acquaintences back home? Your family?”

“I think I was chosen because I didn’t really have any,” you admit. “You know, I spent so long hyper-aware of the fact that I was lying to you about the world, that you were unaware of things, that I really never thought about things objectively. I assumed the modern world was better just because it was more true.”

“And now?” Taehyung asks softly, when you take a few moments to gather your words.

You hum to yourself. “I think I see what you mean about having a good life here.”

“Jin can’t do the shipments forever,” Taehyung points out.

But your eyes are heavy, and despite having limited time with Taehyung, you’re fighting sleep. “Mm, that’s a problem for us a year from now.”

Taehyung laughs breathily, hand shifting to tilt your chin up so he can lay a series of delicate kisses on your lips. “I love you,” he utters.

“I love you too,” you respond easily, adjusting yourself into a position you can fall asleep in.

For a few moments, you enjoy the warmth of his body against yours, the regular sound of his breathing. Your eyes prickle, dreading how much everything will change tomorrow, even though you still stand by your choice.

“Taehyung?”

You almost think you’ve left it too late, that he’s already asleep, but he lets out a noise of acknowledgement in his throat that rumbles through his chest.

“Tae, can I ask a favor?”

“Anything, my love.”

“Tomorrow…” You bite your lip. “Can you leave without waking me up? I don’t think I can say goodbye.” Your voice cracks on the last word, lip trembling violently, and his grip tightens around you in comfort.

Taehyung lets out a sad sigh, resting his cheek against the crown of your head. “If it is your wish, I will comply.”

“Thank you,” you say. And, because you don’t want that to be the last thing he hears from you for a year, you tell him you love him again, repeating it in your head like a mantra until you cease to think entirely.

The first few weeks feel impossible to endure.

Every sunrise gets a new pencilled line on the inside cover of Taehyung’s favourite book. You’ve started reading it, one page at a time to make it last longer.

Lily keeps you company, unsure where her best friend has gone. You put all your focus into maintaining a schedule of caring for her, the chickens and the other farm animals. It keeps you sane, if nothing else, and passes the time.

Jin stays for three days on his first visit. You cry for hours that first night with him to keep you company. The second night is for drinking away your sorrows and having him catch you up on all the shows and movies you’re missing out on. He even brings his phone and multiple portable batteries, letting you listen to his extensive library of downloaded music.

On the final night, you just talk. Sober, solemn, but hopeful too. He got a few postcards in the mail over those three months. Fiji, Papa New Guinea, and the Philippines. They’re safe, he tells you, and enjoying their long-awaited freedom.

The second period of solitude isn’t as bad. Jin leaves on a positive note, promising to bring you your favourite snacks from home if he can find them, and you start on the new books he’d brought with him.

Your plan is to make your way through Taehyung’s entire library before he gets back. You want to learn more about him, and while he isn’t here with you, you have his entire childhood and young adult life at your disposal. Reading becomes almost ritualistic for you, a way to connect to him.

It feels like half the time when Jin comes again. His rare correspondence divulges that Jungkook and Taehyung have made their way around the northern coast of Australia, across to Sri Lanka, and he’d received one last handscrawled letter stamped from Madagascar.

He brings them with him this time, lets you pore over their handwriting, memorising Taehyung’s prose as he retells what the sunset on the Indian Ocean looks like. They’re going around the world, it seems, though in the opposite direction to the path of Fogg and Passepartout in his book.

They ask after you, Taehyung more longingly than the other, but Jin is unable to return the correspondence due to the nature of their travel and how long the post takes.

But even the reminder that they’re still thinking of you, that Taehyung finishes every last message with a confession of his love and desire to be reunited soon, is enough to cheer up your spirits.

The seasons change. You grow used to being alone, though everything just feels so quiet all the time. You’ve passed halfway, however, and every morning you watch the inside cover of the Verne novel fill with grey lines.

Some nights you sleep in the stable with Lily, just to hear the sound of another living being. On those nights, you cry and wonder if Taehyung had done the same growing up as lonely as he did. It always warms you inside to think of him now, together with Jungkook in some foreign timezone breathing in fresh air and seeing new coasts.

When winter closes in, you reign in the animals early, not wanting to risk a storm like the one that almost claimed Taehyung. You find yourself naming them as if they’re your pets, wondering if Taehyung would find the names funny or well-suited.

Everything you do makes you think of him. Reflexively, despairingly, hopefully. He invades your train of thought more often than not. Even then, you find yourself forgetting the details of his face. You recall his moles, but not the arches and swells of the skin around it. You know his hair tickled your forehead when you kissed, but you can’t quite place how it sat on his head.

As the days pass, and your strokes flow beyond the acknowledgements and contents pages, your lover grows blurred in your memories.

It’s that realisation that makes the final days more difficult to bear.

Jin comes late after nine months, and when he does, he’s unable to stay.

The missed expectation knocks you out of your expectation and routine, and in his absence you feel more hollow than usual.

The air is still nippy, and you find yourself aching in wait of spring. When you aren’t out feeding Lily and the farm animals, you’re in Taehyung’s bed, wishing his sheets still smelt like him.

You can’t focus on his books, though there is only a shelf and a half remaining for you to read. You drag the record player heavily down the hallway so that you can listen while curled up underneath the blankets, eyes squeezed shut tight and picturing him playing for you.

You write your tallies of the days in the margins of the first chapter now, avoiding the text.

One day it occurs to you that Taehyung might return upset at you for ruining his favourite novel, and the thought sends you into a depressive, guilt-ridden episode that leaves you crying and restless for days.

You count the tally obsessively. 348, 349, 350 strokes.

It’s when you hit the final week that a frantic panic overcomes you. The villa is a mess and the gardens aren’t well tended. They can’t return to dirty, untidy place.

It takes you three days just to clean everything up and return your belongings back to your own room.

353.

You track down a recipe book among Taehyung’s books, and use up some of the dregs of the flour and sugar to bake some muffins. You try one, but save the rest for them to return.

354.

It occurs to you that you’re not sure whether they’ll come on their boat or meet up with Jin first. You wish there was a way to ask, but of course, you’re stuck here not knowing.

Perhaps they’ll come early and surprise you.

355.

You recount the strokes at random points during the day. Despite counting down for several days now, you find yourself suddenly attacked by onsets of panic and anxiety, as if you might be far off and they’re still 100 days away.

356.

You can’t sleep. Instead, you take Lily down to the front beach and wait on the docks. Even Lily is filled with anxious energy, like she is anticipating his return.

The hours drag by slower than they ever have. You come inside in the late afternoon to boil some water for tea.

The sun sinks below the horizon, with no ships on it. Just in case, you do a lap of the island. It takes a while with how carefully you look. Lily loses interest and returns, but you do a second sweep just to be sure.

357.

In the early hours of the morning, you run down to check the coast again. The whole island is quiet; even the seabirds haven’t come to scout the bay.

When you return alone to the house, you hesitate on writing another dash in the book. Surely today.

Just to be safe, you flick to the back and draw a single, short dash, beginning a new year. The thought of them being late, or worse, dead, fills your mind, and you distract yourself by anxiously cleaning the spare bedrooms.

When you grow tired, feet sore and back aching, you take the book and sneak back into Taehyung’s room, curling up on his bed. You flip through the pages aimlessly, wondering if you should start reading it again, when you remember the twist at the end.

Passepartout and Fogg get delayed, and fear they’ve lost their bet of returning in 80 days. They return in 81 days, ready to accept defeat, when they realise that due to their lap around the world, they had actually gained a day in timezone changes. They’d passed their bet after all, with only 80 days in London passing.

You rack your brain trying to work out if that would’ve affected Taehyung and Jungkook going the opposite direction. Did they think it had only been 365 days? You struggle to find an answer, but your brain feels slow from lack of real use in the past year.

You grab a pillow and hug it against your chest, picturing Taehyung and Jungkook as the main characters. Perhaps Taehyung was like the stern Fogg, filled with the societal standards of the 1800s, while Jungkook, the loyal Passepartout, arranged the travel and took care of his master.

If Taehyung has blurred slightly in your mind over time, Jungkook is a silhouette, and you frown a little at how little detail your mind can supply. He had a kind smile, and beautiful eyes, you recall. Outside of that, all you have are vague reconstructed snippets.

Not wanting to wallow any more in your own misery than you are, you put the book and the pillow down and open the doors to the balcony, leaning on the rail and enjoying the fresh ocean air.

One thing that never fails to lift your spirits, even minutely, is the salty breeze and the open paradise in front of you.

A long, white path cuts through beautiful flowers, now growing more wildly than before. They merge into sand dunes on either side of a wide dock.

The beach behind the villa is nicer, has the shelter from the hilly range and a few coves where starfish and hermit crabs linger, but you always secretly preferred this one.

It’s all sand, pillowed and pale golden. It curves around like a fortune cookie, tucking the dock in securely.

While the back beach’s waters are shallow and reefy, the banks here dip off dramatically into deep blue waters. You spent many summer days with Taehyung, egging him to jump off the docks into the water, but he always insisted on gracefully wading in, shorts rolled up.

The ocean is calm now, a lazy lull that splices the moonlight into a million different shards along the surface.

It’s only just passed dusk, and the moon is barely above the horizon line.

Now that spring has well and truly come, it’s still light enough to see by, and you enjoy the cooler air as you watch the moon lift bit by bit above the seas.

A dark speck blots out the bottom portion of it.

You squint, rub your eyes, but it doesn’t go away.

The minutes pass in silence, and you swear that as the moon rises, so does this spot grow in size.

A light sprinkling of goosebumps covers your bare arms, but you don’t dare move from the balcony.

It takes a while, enough for the stars to come out in full and light up the beach more, but eventually the dark shape comes close enough that you can make out the silhouette of a large fishing ship headed directly your way.

Your heart races. Your feet won’t move, rooted to the spot. You wait, and you wait, and it feels like you’re reliving your 365 days right then and there, but you wait long enough to see three figures standing at the prow of what you recognise to be Jin’s ship, and the 365 days are but a blink, nothing but a heartbeat.

They’re home.

[felikatze]

ok so the themeing of the villains agains the gods of osterra bangs but its also kinda vague. the most on the nose one is ofc tytos having the ring of brand, representing the warrior class. he was a warrior and now he's just a tyrant it tracks. herminia is a huntress in the sense of "treasure hunter" and her willingness to hunt down others for her greed and it's a more subversive choice than giving her the merchant ring

but HOW the fuck is auguste a thief. when the third quest rolled around titled "Auguste, Prince of Thieves" i had to go "haha what?" for a second

and i think this does work because Auguste is derivative

So, Auguste's plays. They're world renowned in universe, obviously, for the raw potrayal of human emotion, and generally considered the height of drama.

However, what we see acted out on the stage are direct recreations of what Auguste has witnessed. He's not a thief in the sense of plagiarism, he's a thief in the sense that he steals people's real stories for his fiction.

The most obvious example here is how he copies Francesca's decision to abandon her son for his newest hit. He doesn't understand people, and cannot fathom what they'd under duress. He sucks at coming up with characters. So he takes someone and puts them in the situation of his play, no matter how horrific, and watches how they react so he can steal that. Obviously the bad thing about this is how often this involves "people's reaction to horrific murder." when they die.

the only real "original" things we see him write and act out are his deception of the player with the fake auguste and schwartz, but both of those are just, ykno, himself. His present self and his past self, recycled. It's not hard to know how a self-insert will react to specific circumstances.

In all likelihood, that's why Schwartz was an unsuccessfull playwright in the past. He could craft plot and circumstance and spectacle, sure, but not characters. Those, he had to steal.

Interestingly enough, Auguste deeply hates his writing process. Why else would he potray the horror of his past self reacting to his current one, and lead on a hero to put him down? So why's he still doing it?

Did he put the death of his first wife into a play and it became such a hit he knew he had to keep going and now he's trapped by his own fame? Is the ring some corrupting influence and he was still self-aware enough to know he had to be stopped? Man, what's all this subtext for when you get a male traveler to start with.

He's the only master of a ring who doesn't want what desire they embody, which makes him by far the most interesting of the lot.

Rip king i miss u. marvelous

[briebysabs]

My Analysis on ‘No Longer Human’ by Dazai Osamu

I have finally read No Longer Human and I have so many thoughts concerning this novel that I felt called upon by the universe to write whatever this is. I’m going to avoid giving a summary and more so provide my opinions/analysis on the main character, Yozo and the themes surrounding the book. As such this includes my thoughts on Dazai Osamu as an author and his writing techniques. With that out of the way, let us begin!

Dazai Osamu committed suicide soon after writing this novel, this was the last work of his that was published. You need to have that in mind when reading because it lends you the mindset he likely had. I’ve also heard this is a semi-autobiography but I’m still unsure how much of the book’s content is fictional. I am going to say this bluntly, I did not enjoy reading this. I think this novel is brilliant but consuming it almost sucks the life out of you. If you ever intend to read ‘No Longer Human’, know that you will be diving into the psyche of a troubled man. Not something to enjoy per say.

It’s written from a 1st person point of view. We aren’t given the narrator’s name until five pages into the first notebook. Everything is said matter of fact but bleeds with emotion, perhaps because it feels as though Dazai himself is speaking to you. When it opens up rather dramatically with “Mine has been a life of much shame”, it’s personal. It’s sets the tone for a novel that feels like a long suicide note. Which it is.

Its presentation of its themes are monotone, plain, and chilling at times. It leaves you disturbed with how casually some things are mentioned. It feels alien, it feels ‘not human’.What does it mean to be human? And where is the line in which you cross something unrecognizable or not representative of humanity? Can your circumstances or environment push you to cross that line, is one simply born that way, or do you make the decision yourself?

Yozo is our narrator and everything is seen through his perspective. He is a character that struggles with depression, anxiety, and substance abuse. He is also a character that I found myself relating to more times than I’d like to admit. There are questions Yozo raises about humans that I have thought about before and may have agreed with a few years ago. I related with his struggle to form connections and many readers can as well. Therefore, I sympathized with him more than others might argue. People tend to confuse social anxiety with narcissism and granted I do believe Yozo can be narcissistic, there are many moments that I saw as him exhibiting anxiety. But then again, I am not a psychologist. I’m speaking from personal experience.

One aspect I believe people….don’t emphasize as much as I think they should is Yozo’s childhood. More specifically, the fact he was sexually assaulted multiple times at a young age by the servants in his home. And the fact he never told a soul about this because “I was sealed away from the world of trust and distrust. My parents at times displayed attitudes that were hard for me to understand.” Again, I am not a psychologist. But if you went through something traumatic like this and at a young age at that. It will largely affect how you see other people, it will cause you to be distrusting. You will question and doubt everyone, that is exactly what Yozo does. I also believe this is the root of misogyny Yozo displays in the novel. How I interpreted it was because his assault was first inflicted by a woman, he subconsciously took that portrayal forced onto him (2-faced, snake-like, inhuman) and projected that to women in general. I do not think it justifies what he says about women in this book but it's a perspective I feel as though many don’t consider.

This is also to be remembered when he sees Yoshiko being violated. His reaction to it was absolutely horrible and disgusting but keep in mind, he is a victim of SA. So the fact he mutters that “This is another aspect of the behavior of human beings. There is nothing to be surprised about.” And he runs away in fear, afterwards telling Yoshiko “It’s all right. Don’t do anything. You didn’t know enough to distrust others.” At that moment, he was not seeing his wife. I don’t know what he saw but it was enough for him to run away, terrified.

He should not have said that to Yoshiko. And think about, “You didn’t know how to distrust”. He then starts to question if trustfulness is a sin. It makes you wonder if he sees his former trustfulness as a sin, if that happened to him because he didn’t know how to distrust. And he’s treating this situation the same way he treated his own: by keeping it themselves and saying she didn’t know better.

Yozo’s a character that is spiraling in despair from horrible things that happen to him. But also from decisions that he makes. And Yozo isn’t a likable character but for me, I kept wanting his life to be better. I wanted him to be better but he doesn’t think he can be better. The reality is we need support from reliable people to guide and be there to lean on but you make the first step. Sex isn’t going to fix you. Drugs aren’t going to fix you. Alcohol isn’t going to fix you. You need to look within yourself and make the conscious decision to improve.

There might’ve been a point where you’ve been Yozo to some degree. Or maybe you know someone who’s a Yozo in your life. And it hurts for me to have such a self-destructive character repeatedly push opportunities for happiness away. By the end, Yozo is in a state of numbness and I could understand. It’s a scary feeling to see the world as gray, living everyday like nothing matters. You can’t laugh, you can’t cry. Everything just….passes. The very fact he concludes saying he’s currently 27 blew me away. Remember, there is a three time skip from when he gets released from the asylum to his last statements/paragraphs. Meaning he was 24 at the time. That means everything from when he started college to leaving the asylum, all of that occurred in the span of 5-6 years.

That’s insane.

In conclusion, you can accept this as a depressing read about human nature, the thoughts that plague us and monstrosities that lurk within. A story where our main character dissociates himself from humanity and speaks as though he’s a completely different species. You can sympathize with that or despise it, depending on who you are and where you’ve been in life. But you can also take this novel as a warning or perhaps a wake-up call, who knows. That this world can be cruel, life will hurl its thorns at you. But how you react, how you cope, who you surround yourself with is what’ll make the real difference. Don’t be Yozo. Fight to break out of that downward spiral and be someone who you think is deserving of love.

For it is through our perseverance that we become ever closer to being human.

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 12

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Let's bring this thing home! It's time for the conclusion of the essay series!

Conclusion With a stupidly long essay series behind us, it's time to look at what we've learned! Let's go back to Part 1 and review what we needed from Van Zieks's character development for a fully rounded redemption arc, shall we?

1) Present an antagonistic (possibly immoral) force who personifies Ryunosuke’s biggest personal obstacle/weakness, in this case racial prejudice. 2) Humanizing traits begin to show. OPTIONAL: A backstory to justify any immorality he has. 3) Over time, Barok has his realization and sees the error of his ways. 4) Barok atones for his immorality, not simply through apology but by taking decisive steps. 5) The cast around him acknowledges his efforts and forgives him.

And looking at the main game (plus additional dialogue), we have...

1) Antagonistic force:

Etc. etc. I have many of these. We can all agree that as an antagonistic force, he does his job quite well. CEO of Racism and White Privilege in the flesh. It works, since we as the audience get very frustrated and want to see him defeated.

2) Humanization:

Giving him an old friend to be a defendant was a brilliant move, really. Albert's reflection on the friendship and the person Van Zieks used to be really helped flesh him out and make him appear more like a human being with, y'know, emotions and weaknesses. The little snippets of dialogue in his office really help too. Presenting evidence can also lead to fun tidbits. All in all, considering how gruff and distant Van Zieks is, they really did their very best to humanize him. The writers were given very little to work with but they exploited every opportunity to come their way.

OPTIONAL backstory:

Again, I don't think we needed a tragic backstory to have a well-rounded, redeemable character. Still, it ties in very expertly to the game's plot and the motivations of quite a few other characters. The story of Klint van Zieks and his death isn't necessarily Barok van Zieks's backstory, it's the center of an intricate web which also holds Kazuma, Stronghart, Gregson, Jigoku, (S)Holmes, Mikotoba, Sithe, Drebber- I could go on. A LOT. So because of how very integrated it is into the main narrative's recurring themes and characters, I'll give it props for being relevant and well thought out. The bigger question is: Does it justify his immorality? Not entirely. I think the game could have gotten more out of this if they'd involved the other two exchange students in this tale just a bit more. They could have given more attention to how Jigoku's aggressive behavior in the trial impacted Van Zieks, and explained whether he might've suspected Mikotoba of sabotaging (S)Holmes's investigation. If the narrative had done that, all three Japanese people to come to London would have been ‘the bad guy’ in Van Zieks's eyes and it would have given more credence to his racial generalization. They could have also given more attention to how the people around him reacted to Genshin being the Professor, because I'm sure Stronghart and Gregson stoked the fire in terms of xenophobia. As it stands, there isn't really enough there to justify hatred of an entire race as opposed to just one person.

3) Realization/Redemption

We see him already start to realize the error of his ways around the end of 1-5, which is technically only about halfway into the full narrative. Unfortunately, thanks to 2-2 being played afterwards (but chronologically set before 1-5), any progress made in 1-5 can become invalidated in the player's eyes. Growth works best when it's done linear. Don't get me wrong, flashbacking to earlier times when a character is still more morally tainted can work well, but it needs to be executed properly. Barok's behavior in 2-2 is downright insulting towards the audience itself and therefore, it causes emotional friction when relaying the narrative endgoal of redemption. It also makes it extra jarring when we hit 2-3, and suddenly Van Zieks is meant to be relying on the protagonist's desire to expose the truth. How on earth can we as the audience trust that Van Zieks believes in Ryu's abilities when we just came fresh out of a case where this man actively sabotages Ryu's efforts?

Still, the line of redemption continues from 2-3 into 2-4 well enough. He admits that he was wrong- that his hatred was illogical and that he needs to change. This is the very definition of redemption. I need to stress once more this is not to be confused with atonement, which comes next.

4) Atonement

Here it is. It's not enough to simply acknowledge mistakes; one needs to work hard to fix them. Since Van Zieks is the defendant for two whole episodes, equaling roughly 20% of the full narrative and 67% of the time following his first true realization (chronologically), there isn't much that he can actively do to atone. Because remember, not only do these actions need to fit the situation he's currently in, they need to fit his personality. These two limitations ensure the atonement mostly takes the form of dialogue. Of apologies.

One might want to point out that he never apologizes specifically for his racism, but there's a reason for that. If you pay close attention, you'll notice that there isn't a single character who ever uses a word like “racism”, “xenophobia” or even “racial prejudice” in this game. It's for the same reason you'll never see an Ace Attorney character utter words like “alcoholism”, “drug abuse” or “depression”. These things may be implied very strongly, to the point where you'll know for certain a character is suffering from it, but it's never given these exact labels. It has to do with the tone of the game. In Great Ace Attorney's dialogue, Barok van Zieks is only ever described as holding “a deep hatred for Japanese”, which is then the only thing he could apologize for. And he does, so long as you aren't looking for a literal phrasing of “I apologize for my deep hatred of your people”.

Regardless, he can't take more active, decisive action until he's freed from prison and two scenes with Van Zieks later, the game has ended. He still manages to take two actions, though! The first is to publicize the truth of the Professor, taking the blame of the mass murders off Genshin's shoulders (and losing his own privilege in the process). The second is to take Kazuma under his wing as his disciple. I'm not certain there's anything else the narrative could have had him do. What is decisively missing, however, is the following:

5) Acknowledgment

The above aren't good examples of cast acknowledgment that Van Zieks is taking part in a redemption arc, rather, they're the best I could find. Characters are acknowledging that he's changing- that he's being kinder to them and they can get along with him now, but they're not acknowledging that he caused hurt in the first place. This, in my opinion, is the Great Ace Attorney's biggest narrative flaw. I've talked before about how Ryu's reaction to Van Zieks's racism is 'indirect communication', a typically Japanese manner of dealing with negativity. I've also talked about how Ryu is not in a position to speak up, as he's a literal minority who is there to represent his country in an official capacity and can’t afford to make enemies. However, characters like Susato and Kazuma are far more outspoken in their opinions, as is Soseki. The only one who ever calls Van Zieks out on his racism is the British judge, and even that is done very meekly. When an old crusty white guy is the one who condemns white privilege in a cast full of minorities, you've got a problem. The Japanese cast's refusal to acknowledge that Van Zieks's words were harmful is like Team Avatar telling Zuko that sure, he can join since he's a good guy now, but never once acknowledging that he burned down villages or betrayed everyone's trust in Ba Sing Se. There's something very vital missing, see? If indeed the cast had called Van Zieks out more actively on his harmful ways and how necessary it was for him to change, he in turn could have taken more atonement steps in response.

So, for the conclusion: Does Barok van Zieks tick all the necessary boxes for a complete redemption arc? Yes. In a very technical sense, all the requirements are there. But does that mean it's a successful arc? Not necessarily. The game has a few slip-ups, a few things not executed as well as they could have been. For that reason, whether the audience is satisfied with the arc is entirely up to them. Taking into consideration that they had to cram a whole lot of story into just two games- the second game in particular, I can acknowledge they did their very best with the limitations that were there.

And there we have it! That’s all I could think to say on the matter. I hope everyone who read this till the very end enjoyed it, maybe even learned a thing or two. I’m always open to questions, input and constructive criticism!

[mittensmorgul]

Incoming sad rant about the spn ending. Don't read if you're not interested in reading something like that, but I literally don't know anyone in real life I can talk about this with, and I really need an outlet:

Sometimes I can put the way SPN ended out of my head and think "it's just a stupid show. I don't have to accept the finale, and the writers/network are wrong." But other times I just get gripped with really intense sadness at the disrespect that was done to my favorite characters. To the point where I'll sit still for hours a day, just wallowing in it. It ruins my whole day and mood. And then I think to myself "I'll just find some other stories that end better!" but then I get sad again, cuz I don't think I will ever love other characters as much as I love Dean and Cas, and then I spiral again thinking about all the potential this unique beautiful love story had, and how we're never going to get the closure we deserve.

I really hate that after all this time, I'm a grown ass adult getting sad over fictional characters. I know it's not that trivial, but I sometimes wish it was so I could get over it 😞

Hi hi, and first of all *socially distanced internet hugs* I’m sorry you don’t have an outlet, but you’re always welcome to chat with me (if you come off anon we can talk privately if you want. My DM’s are always open, even when it takes me a bit to reply. no one should have to feel alone in this.)

I’m actually gonna start at the bottom of your message and work my way up, because I also, as a grown-ass adult, get sad over fictional characters. And I need to emphasize that this is the *point* of fiction. A well-written and developed fictional character is *indistinguishable in our minds from an actual real human being.* The way we react to them *feels exactly the same to our brains and bodies* as how we react to real people, and that’s a testament to just how well developed Dean and Cas were in canon.

I am not a young person. I have engaged with a lot of media over my life, and have *never* felt this strongly about fictional characters before, so I understand what you mean when you struggle to think about finding another story that ended better, or struggle to think about finding other characters you might become this attached to or experience this sort of emotional investment in. And I think there is another factor you didn’t consider there: The vast majority of other media I have engaged with, I was able to relate to on a level of “oh that’s nice for them” or “wow that sucks for them.” I have never, and possibly never will again, feel so utterly invested in fictional characters, to the point where it affects my real life as much as Supernatural has. Period.

I will likely never experience *literal physical lovesickness* over two fictional characters ever again. I hadn’t ever experienced it *in my own real life* before, and yet 15.18 triggered all those symptoms in me. As an aromantic person, this was pretty shocking to me. It also says a lot about just how real these characters feel to us, and how important they have become to us. They make us feel this! This is not an accident. It’s *incredibly difficult* to create fictional characters with this range and depth of emotional connection, and yet here we are.

I think that’s the biggest evidence possibly to present in defense of the statement that THIS IS NOT JUST SOME STUPID SHOW.

Other evidence: this fandom, still going strong after 15 years. Look at every SPN convention for proof. Look at AO3, where there are more posted stories about Dean and Cas than literally any other pairing on the planet (by a not-small margin, too). If that isn’t enough evidence, we have fanart to look at as well. Look through @theroadsofararchive where at the time of this posting there are over 40,000 artworks catalogued, and more being added all the time. Same with @canonspngifs where you can search through through nearly 75,000 gifsets organized by an excellent tagging system and made by dedicated fans out of love for the thing. This is all proof that you are not alone, that so many of us care just as deeply about them as you do. Not even mentioning the people who have written hundreds of millions of words of meta, articles, and even masters theses and doctoral dissertations on Supernatural and the fandom. This is a unique thing, even within the larger fandom culture. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your feelings for it are stupid or irrelevant or wrong.

But also don’t let anyone try to convince you that you must accept the finale as part of the story if you don’t want to. Don’t even let *yourself* believe that if you don’t want to. This show has done more to play with the themes of “what is reality” and “who gives a story meaning” and alternate universes and curses and djinn dreams to easily account for whatever the heck the finale was.

my current go-to theory: everything after Chuck’s defeat takes place in the Mockumentary Alternate Universe... it fits way too uncomfortably well... and then I just apply the fic I received in a cosmic transmission from the actual supernatural universe wrote detailing the events of what *I* hoped would transpire afterward. I know this doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for me, mostly because it *has* to. It means far too much to me not to.

You are not alone in having invested yourself into this story, and these characters. Your feelings about them are not wrong or stupid or frivolous. And the proof is everyone else who feels the same exact way, who connected to this story (and to each other through this story), and whose lives have been forever altered through this journey together. The fact that Dabb turned out to have been Chuck Junior and couldn’t see (or was prevented from showing us) what Team Free Will would’ve chosen to do with that after defeating their original creator just stands to prove to me that the finale can’t possibly be The Truth, you know?

I don’t know if any of this will help you, or provide you some small comfort right now, but maybe it will eventually. We’re all processing the loss of the show and the abject failure of story that was the finale in different ways, and I’m sure our emotional reactions will shift over time. It was just A Lot to process all in the span of a few incredibly emotional weeks-- not even mentioning how all of that emotional response was compounded by the american elections and surrounding nonsense, the general stress of enduring a global pandemic and all that entails, and *waves hands around broadly at everything else contributing to the trauma occurring in the collective of humankind right now.* We’ve all been emotionally compromised, so be kind to yourself in how you feel you’re coping with it all.

And know that no matter what, you are not alone in how you’re feeling. The grief is real, and our brains don’t care if it’s felt for fictional characters or real people. This was honestly a once in a lifetime experience for a lot of us, and not even the wtf of the finale can kill it for us if we don’t let it. I reject that particular piece of rusty rebar and choose to believe in a just and narratively coherent resolution. To do anything less feels like dishonoring the story and characters who have drawn me in and made me feel so much for them over the years. If the story itself couldn’t honor them properly, then I can choose to do so myself.

<3

[swordrose-fluidflux]

Hi @enfranchisement,

I wanted to DM you, but you only allow that for tumblrs you follow so here:

First of all, if you don’t care about what I have to say about critical analysis of Naruto, then just look at my last two sentences.

Naruto promotes racism; justifies and makes light of abuse, oppression and genocide. It exhalts fascism. And yes, there's other fiction for children which depicts atrocities as not that bad, but Naruto introduces racist theory and fascist politics while making it look like "it's not that bad" or "it can't be helped". It's insidious in its immorality and children are exposed to that.

The main character, who is hailed as savior of the world, becomes the fascist leader in the end in everything but name. The mass-murderer, who murdered his own clan including his parents and severly mentally abused his only surviving little brother on top of that, is hailed as the ultimate unsung hero - the best shinobi, which is presented as the best profession. Genocide survivors who aren't good little victims, don't dutifully accept everything, don't serve their oppressors/assailants and want justice are vilified and either driven to suicide through self-sacrifice for their oppressors or beaten into lifelong submission to the fascist state (and may end up just the same). I could go on and on...

This is a famous and popular manga/anime for children. There's now a sequel (Boruto), which means a new generation of children will also read/watch Naruto. I've seen what Naruto did to my generation. And yes, there are also other factors. Naruto’s bad influence was probably not that big, but there was and still is an influence. Kishimoto's framing was very convincing for most people. On the surface it's about friendship and working hard for your dreams, but the "friendship" is in the name of "love" and "cooperation" for the state, which instigates war, uses child soldiers, uses another village as battleground, etc., but who cares as long as everyone in the state is doing their job assigned by the fascist state and submits to the more privileged person as a "friend". Most people who don’t like the ending are upset over shipping or a characters potential. Who cares? The themes are rarely considered. They’re just absorbed as if it’s only natural - except misogyny and maybe sexism. 

A popular Naruto meme was were the mass-murderer chokes his little brother and there was quite an amount of people who considered themselves on the perpetrators side as justified annoyed person or something. There are people who say it's not racism when genetics really make you predisposed to being evil. The Sharingan is activated and evolves when someone of the Uchiha clan looses or is about to loose someone they care about. It's basically a "bigger than usual" trauma reaction and some say the clan is predisposed to evil. Victim blaming runs rampant in general.

Kishimoto used real life events and issues as inspiration and it shows in how there are some in the fandom who openly justify atrocities in the name of the state because it's for the safety of the citizens (who are all shinobi/soldiers of the fascist state) and "it can't be helped". It's repugnant. It was disturbing to see as teenager how some people my age adopted this ideological mindset being influenced by the framing and ideology of Naruto.

Now I'm a young adult and when I saw that there's a sequel I looked into it. The sequel itself is better (not as insidious and immoral) for now, but many children also watch/read the previous anime/manga. I thought that if even just one of those children reads my blog and goes to other blogs critical of Naruto, then the creation of my sideblog will be worthwile. I also want to work through this myself. It was after all a part of my childhood.

I suggest that you don't throw in information irrelevant to the topic of the post in the future. Have a good day.

[365days365movies]

May 6, 2021: The Martian (2015) (Recap: Part One)

We’re leaving lo-fi sci-fi, people. Kind of.

I mentioned before that films like Her are what I define as “lo-fi sci-fi”, which is a category that I’ve kind of made up. Basically, it’s the science fiction version of low fantasy, meaning it contains science fiction themes contained within an otherwise contemporary setting. In the case of Her, Joaquin Phoenix’s character, along with many others, live in a world and setting basically like ours, but with technology advanced enough to generate AIs (like Siri) that are intelligent enough to actually ascend our reality. Because we live in a society.

You give me Joaquin Phoenix, I’m gonna make a Joker reference; it’s in the contract of my existence. Anyway, that is admittedly kind of broad, right? I mean, that has the capability of crossing over with a BUNCH of sci-fi genres and themes. And, considering that we’ve already seen magic, speculative technology, time travel, monsters, and artificial intelligence, we’ve already touched on quite a bit.

And with science fiction, the sky’s the limit. Literally. So, I think it behooves us to re-examine lo-fi sci-fi a little bit. Specifically, we should note that it can also be defined as an extension of currently existing technologies and possibilities. Writers would call this “speculative sci-fi”, assuming in this case that it’s set within the present or a near and attainable future. Her definitely fits in this category, as does Westworld. But, let’s crossover to another genre by speculating upon another possibility. And it begins with this man. Probably.

Hey, Elon, what’s up? Now, Mr. Musk here is a...controversial figure, for COMPLETELY understandable reasons. Instead of touch upon the man himself, I feel like touching upon one of his recent focuses: space travel. With SpaceX and the various upcoming space trips and journeys that they’re planning, Musk has made it clear that he plans to shoot to the Moon. Again, literally.

In fact, this full plan is to go even further than that, and to fuel potential commercial space flights in the future, which is admittedly very cool. And of course, if you’re going to shoot for the Moon...

Guys...guys, that’s Mars. THAT’S FUCKING MARS

Is that not amazing? We have sound and pictures from FUCKING MARS! THAT’S A DIFFERENT PLANET, GODDAMN IT! It’s cooler than I have the ability to properly express, but it IS goddamn cool. And this means that, easily within my lifetime, we could (and likely will) land on Mars. Which is amazing. God, I really want to see that happen.

And so, landing on Mars is BARELY science fiction, but since we haven’t yet done so...yeah, it’s fictional at the moment. And so, any film about landing on Mars falls within this category. Well...to an extent.

2000′s Mission to Mars, for example, was a Disney-funded film (to my IMMENSE surprise; and it’s based off of an old Disney World ride, WHAT), and a movie that I saw a LOT when I was a kid. I also barely remember it, to be honest. But that film is straight-up science fiction because of, well...aliens. The idea of Martians is, as far as we know it, fictional. And most fiction involving Mars includes these aliens somehow. Whether it’s DC Comics’ entire civilization of Martians, as seen in Justice League, Supergirl, or Young Justice...

...Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s heavily mythologized civilization, as seen in the Barsoom series of novels (and another Disney film)...

...Or one of the best Looney Tunes characters.

Mmm. Yes. Isn’t that lovely?

But, yeah, Mars and aliens go hand-in-hand in our media. So, to properly look at lo-fi science and speculative science fiction in relation to the Red Planet, we’ll need a movie that goes to the planet, and doesn’t touch upon the concept of aliens AT ALL.

Enter...Ridley Scott?

Yeah, the director of Legend, Alien, Thelma and Louise, Blade Runner, Gladiator. Also the director of Kingdom of Heaven, Prometheus, Exodus: Gods and Kings, and...ugh, 1492: Conquest of Paradise. I’ve talked about his mixed record before, in my Recap of Legend right here.

In 2014, he was brought on to adapt a book by Andy Weir called The Martian, which is a great book! I’ve listened to the audio book, and I whole-heartedly recommend doing that. And because of that, I am VERY MUCH looking forward to watching this film, especially seeing as it’s often called one of the best science fiction films made during that year, and was critically acclaimed then and now. It got seven Oscar nominations (although it won none of them), amongst other awards. So, enough navel-gazing, huh? The Martian!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

On Acidalia Plantitia, at the landing site of the Ares III mission, a group of scientists are gathering samples. These scientists are commander and geologist Melissa Lewis (Jessica Chastain), pilot Rick Martinez (Michael Pena), systems operator Beth Johanssen (Kate Mara), surgeon Chris Beck (Sebastian Stan), German chemist Alex Vogel (Aksel Hennie), and overly talkative botanist Mark Watney (Matt Damon). 

The group seems to have a good dynamic, but that dynamic is interrupted by a massive dust storm, which is large enough to cause the entire crew to evacuate. However, in the chaos of the dust storm, Mark is hit by debris and lost in the shuffle. Although Lewis goes back to find him, she can’t get to him before they need to leave, and Mark is believed dead. This is reported (pretty callously) by NASA Director Teddy Sanders (Jeff Daniels) to the press soon afterwards.

But of course, that wouldn’t be much of a movie, now would it? Mark’s alive! And Mark’s alone. With his suit damaged, and low on oxygen, he trudges back to headquarters, which is intact and still contains breathable oxygen. He gets inside, and realizes that he’s been stabbed in the abdomen by some debris. He removes it, and stitches up his own wound. Which is...god, it’s fucking BRUTAL just to think about, nevertheless watch.

Once he’s finished, he records a log for the future, if he doesn’t make it. It’s day 19 of the 31-day mission at this point, and Mark’s basically screwed. He needs lasting oxygen, water, and food, and he might need that for 4 years, when the next manned mission can come to the red planet. Additionally, he has absolutely no way to contact NASA, leaving him completely stranded. Another dust storm rolls in that night, and Mark looks over the belongings of his colleagues, packing them up for their eventual return. It’s somber, to say the least. However, Mark affirms that he’s determined not to die on the planet.

After doing the math, Mark should have enough food to last him for about 300 days, especially if he rations it. Until then, he’ll need to figure out how to grow his own food, on a planet where nothing grows. Which is, of course, going to be a difficult feat to accomplish. But Mark Watney’s a botanist with botany powers, and he’s gonna do it.

It’s day 31, and Mark’s brought in dirt from the outside, and uses the bio-waste from the crew’s stay there for a form of compost. After 5 days, mostly full of him watching Happy Days on TV and trying to farm, he realizes that he needs water, both for himself and for the soil. To do that, he goes chemical and decides to use hydrogen-laden rocket fuel, wood from Martinez’s belongings, and good old-fashioned fire to make water! And since hydrogen + oxygen = water, it should work. With a minor side-effect.

So, yeah, he blew himself up. As as he records a video log, the sound mixing makes itself impressively known by subtly and realistically generating a tinnitus sound. It’s VERY well-done, holy shit. Anyway, he makes a stable fire, and the place is soon covered in condensation, moistening the room and the soil successfully.

We get to day 54, and Mark’s planted leftover potatoes from the crew in order to grow them. And while he’s being mourned at a funeral on Earth, and in NASA, he’s seeing the fruits (or shoots) of his efforts.

Back on Earth, Mars Mission Director Vincent Kapoor (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is trying to convince Director Teddy to let him lobby for another Ares mission, despite the risk of bad press for the callousness of the proximity to Watney’s death. Meanwhile, satellite technician Mindy Park (Mackenzie Davis) looks down at the Ares III site, and realizes that the site has changed visually, meaning that Mark may actually be alive.

Shocked by this, she tells Kapoor, Teddy, and media director Annie Montrose (Kristen Wiig) about this, and they realize the absolute clusterfuck that this whole thing is. They can’t tell the other members of the Ares III crew about it, because it’d devastate them for the 10 months they have to get back to Earth, at the VERY least. They can’t tell the WORLD about this, because they just had a funeral for the guy, and they’d reveal that they left him stranded on Mars accidentally, destroying faith in the Mars Missions Program. And they can’t save Mark, who they’re sure will starve eventually. It’s a mess. And Kapoor also wonders what’s happening to Mark psychologically through all of this.

And yet, they reveal this to the world regardless, causing the clusterfuck reaction that they think it’s going to cause. But Mark’s busy on Mars, figuring out how to get to the site of the next Ares IV mission in 4 years, at the Schiaparelli crater about 50 days travel away. This is a struggle, as his Rover has only so much power and fuel, and he can only get more power by cutting out the heater is risking death by freezing. So, problems. However, he figures out a potential solution: radioactive isotopes! In a move that is, let’s face it, COMPLETELY INSANE, he digs up a radioactive generator from the ship in order to heat the ship.

On Earth, they try to figure out Mark’s moves, as well as how to resupply Ares IV sooner for Mark’s benefit. This is with the director of JPL, Bruce Ng (Benedict Wong), and the flight director of the ship Hermes, Mitch Henderson (Sean Bean), who insists that they tell the Ares II crew. They continue to monitor Mark, and note that he’s been travelling for 17 days in his Rover towards something. Kapoor figures it out, and flies to California.

See, Mark needs a way to contact NASA, and he believes that the way to do so is through Pathfinder, the first probe ever sent to Mars in 1997, lasting for 9 months since landing until they lost contact. Mark digs it up, and the people at JPL in California start their own efforts for contact. And despite communication being extremely rudimentary, initially limited to yes/no questions that use a still-frame camera, it fucking WORKS! WHOO!

To boost this communication hurdle, the two camps figure out a hexadecimal system for communication, allowing them to communicate using a circular table of numbers that represent an alphabet. That allows them to teach Mark to hack into the Rover, allowing it to piggyback off of its broadcast signal and send them messages via keyboard. Nice! Now that communication is reasonably possible, Mark’s able to ask how the crew is handling his death. But upon learning that they haven’t told him. He’s understandably a little goddamn enraged. And so, they FINALLY tell the Ares III crew about this.

The news breaks the crew, even though Mark continues to stress that he’s all right, and that it wasn’t their fault. Meanwhile, Mark’s able to survive for 912 days with his potato plants, and things improve with the help of technicians on Earth. They plan to launch a supply rocket to him in the next year, and things are looking fine! Unless, of course...something goes horribly HORRIBLY wrong.

Well...fuck. Good place to pause for Part Two, then?

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Thoughts on Karin’s Magical Girl Story

Another collection of thoughts and reactions, plus analyzing some small changes the NA translation made (similar to the translation comparison I did for Alina’s MGS a while back).

Starting off with not a change, but an interesting note: Karin and Alina’s club situation is rather strange.  Alina is the “outsider” from the Art Club, while Karin is part of the Manga Club.  The classroom they share, though, doesn’t appear to be the main space for either club.  I’d initially assumed that it was the room originally used for the Manga Club, but once Arc 2 updates these backgrounds...

It turns out this actually is an art classroom!  I guess the school just has two?

First major change: Just like in Alina’s MGS, they removed direct references to Karin and Alina’s ages.  The reference to Karin’s age at the start of the Magical Halloween Theater event was also changed.

(In JP here, Alina was said to have won a lot of different awards “for a 16 year old,” while Karin stated her age as 14 in the MHT event.)

Again, unsure of why the change, but it could be in order to fix the continuity issues. Because good lord, that continuity is snarled...

I think the order that makes the most sense is Karin MGS > Alina MGS > Magius forms > one year passes > MHT > Main Story Ch5 > Holy Alina’s MGS.  In theory, then Karin should be 13 and Alina should be 15 in their Magical Girl Stories and then 14 and 16 in the present, but as mentioned that’s contradicted by the start of Karin’s MGS in the original Japanese.

There’s also the weirdness around when/how Karin learned Alina was a magical girl, since Karin seems aware of it in MHT, yet it’s unclear if she knows in Holy Alina’s MGS.

… Anyway, stuff like this is why I gave up on constructing a coherent timeline for Magia Record.  There’s just too many continuity tangles.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

References to Karin being in her second year in middle school and the third years leaving – also changed.  Probably because it’s both an uncommon way to refer to grades in English, and also, once again, another continuity issue.  (If the third years left, why is Alina still there in one years’ time if she’s at least one grade ahead of Karin?)

Another change: some specifics in why Karin and Alina are in the same classroom together.  In JP, it’s not specified who made the deal to let Alina use the room.  If anything it seems like Karin is the one making a deal directly with Alina.

Which actually makes far more sense all around – why does “the school” care that Alina is giving informal lessons to some random kid?

And it makes more sense from Alina’s perspective too, in that it explains why she tolerates Karin constantly bothering her – putting up with Karin is explicitly the price she’s paying to Karin for using the space.

Oh boy, this.  Karin having this mindset is why it took me so long to really ship AliKari.  Because the dark undertone to “if only I improve, then surely Alina will treat me better” is that Karin is blaming herself when Alina is cruel to her.  And that can very easily slide into an abusive relationship - if you don’t consider it one already.

Alina treating Karin decently should not be dependent on Karin’s art skill.  Or anything else, for that matter.  Full stop.

(Tangent time, including some Arc 2 spoilers)

What ultimately made me come around to AliKari is some of the early Arc 2 stuff, where Karin starts thinking the reason Alina disappeared is because Alina is mad at Karin for not improving.  Karin’s explanation is spectacularly wrong, so I’m now more trusting that the game is implying that Karin’s mindset is going to change. That she’ll stop believing she’s at fault for Alina’s actions - and hopefully stand up to Alina too while she’s at it.

The other half of the equation is Alina, who as far as I can tell, is genuinely not interested in bullying Karin.  She certainly has every opportunity to do so – especially given how her teacher punishes Karin for Alina’s behavior – but Alina never takes advantage of it.  So while she is overly harsh and blunt about expressing her opinions to Karin, I don’t get the sense there is any manipulation underlying it.  Indeed, very unusually for Alina, we also never see her enjoying or fantasizing about Karin’s pain or distress.  She really, truly, just wants Karin to get better at art already!

Obviously, for any kind of relationship between the two to work, they would both need to undergo significant character development.  But that’s the draw of AliKari – while other characters have stagnated (sigh, RikaRen), Alina and Karin are still some of the most dynamic characters in the game. And in general, the direction has been that despite starting out in a bad place (like Karin’s mindset above), they’re growing to become very positive influences on each other.

(End tangent)

Enjoying the extra cliches thrown in here and there, and in general how they translated Karin’s dramatics by adding additional cheesy and on-theme descriptions.  Stuff like “dark and dreary night” or “cauldron of trouble” aren’t in the original Japanese, but they’re wonderfully in-character – honestly probably an improvement over the original!

Not a change, but more reminding myself that I really need to read Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne.  I’m like 97% sure that’s what’s being referenced here – the plot description and even the comments Karin makes about “Phantom Thief Kirin” In her later Magic unlock quotes are all a very close match.

Interestingly enough, I’ve heard KKJ mentioned as an earlier dark magical girl series that Madoka Magica rips off.  So it’s quite interesting to see it referenced again back in a PMMM property – I wonder which part of the creative team was responsible for this detail?

Hm, so, the subject and detail of Karin and Alina’s conversation in the middle differs between translations.  In JP, the subject is vague, so the fan translation has Alina going off on an extended metaphor comparing the history of art to the protagonist of Karin’s manga.  Meanwhile, in NA she just makes vague comments comparing her own growth as an artist.  

I think I prefer the former - Alina usually doesn’t like talking about herself, but she sure loves to ramble about art history.

The translation I can find for the metaphor Karin’s grandmother uses here in JP renders it “barely able to keep a business going” - so did Karin’s grandmother possibly own a business herself?  That’s a bit more interesting than just “struggled to make ends meet.”

Speaking of Karin’s grandmother, I really like her as a character.  Her relationship with Karin is really sweet - I mean, how often do you see a teenage girl and an older woman being fans of something together?  It happens in real life plenty of times, but it’s so rare to see this kind of interaction represented in fiction.

And it’s nice to see an example of mental illness being treated as just that – an illness.  I especially like that there’s consent to the cure – Grandma outright says she wishes to be cured, rather than Karin deciding as such on her own.  (As Karin is often wont to do…)

This is a fun illustration of how Alina has a very strong internal logic to her, but she’s really terrible at communicating it to other people.

Karin, naturally, takes Alina’s comment here as an exceptionally mean thing to say – it sounds like Alina is callously implying the thing Karin worked so hard on was so bad it wasn’t even worth Alina’s time to destroy, so she’s making Karin suffer even more in having to destroy it herself.

And the way Alina elaborates makes it quite clear that yes, she did mean to call Karin’s work garbage.  This isn’t Alina having difficulty with Japanese or English.

But while Alina’s sense of taste can be quite sadistic, I don’t think that’s what she was aiming for here.  Remember that Alina believes that “only the artist themselves has the right to destroy their work.”  So this is actually Alina acknowledging Karin’s work as art, and therefore only Karin has the right to rip it up.

And why rip it up?  Because whenever Alina finds her own work unsatisfactory, she destroys it.  Hence Alina’s question at the end of this little back-and-forth:

If Karin doesn’t want to rip up her manga, then according to Alina’s logic, that means she must be happy and satisfied with it.  But even Alina can tell that Karin is still unsatisfied and lying to herself, hence Alina’s frustration and confusion at Karin not destroying her work.

Another timeline note: Alina doesn’t lie, and even if she did, she doesn’t have a ring here.  So I think it’s pretty settled that Karin’s MGS takes place before Alina learned about magical girls.

Oh huh. In NA, Alina thinks she’ll be the one in trouble if Karin isn’t ready.  In the fan translation I’m used to, it seems like Alina is saying she’d just be mad herself… but I think NA has it right here.  (In the original JP, Alina is using the passive form of “get angry” without a subject.)

Both work, but the impression NA gives with both this change and the earlier one is that someone at the school is basically putting Alina in charge of supervising Karin.  Which… what the hell, Sakae Academy?

Going back a bit, Alina’s advice and its effect on Karin is interesting.  One of Karin’s flaws really is that she makes excuses for herself and only half-commits, so Alina pushing her to think about what she truly wants and work hard to get it was genuinely what Karin needed to hear at the time.

However, Alina is also an obsessive perfectionist that tends to push herself to very clearly unhealthy levels…

So it’s rather fitting that on following Alina’s advice, Karin ends up pushing herself into doing something very dangerous: insisting on fighting a witch alone even though Kaede tries to get her to retreat.  Karin is so determined she’s risking her life to fulfill her goal – something Alina would no doubt approve of.  But also a great illustration of why Alina and her advice is flawed too.

Which, come to think of it, is part of why Karin and Alina’s MGS actually form a nice pair of complementary short stories.  If you read them in chronological(?) / original JP release order, you first get to see how Alina helps Karin to grow as a person, and if you think hard about it, you can kind of see foreshadowing for Alina’s own issues.  Then in Alina’s MGS, you get confirmation of that foreshadowing about Alina, and furthermore, the payoff to Karin’s development with her now being the one to give Alina some hard-hitting advice.

[obiyuki-beebs]

I found this in chapter 56 and I thought it was kinda interesting. While Zen is comforting Shirayuki as she's crying, Mitsuhide says,"But this is about Zen and Shirayuki. I don't think this sudden distance is a big problem. It's not like being apart would cause their existence to become smaller in each other's lives." Maybe it's foreshadowing they will separate? What are your thoughts on this? Do you think ObiYuki still has a chance or is it just the author toying with us?

hi anon!!  (￣ω￣)

Short answer:

Yes, Whoaboy get ready I have some THOUGHTS, YESS!! and No.

I have been sitting on this ask for a long time sorry for le wait

The vast majority of this post is below the cut. I hope it is not too much / addresses what you meant. 

Here are some notes before I subject whoever reads this to my madness:

These little moments of “It’s okay to do what you want to do” always strike me, and I think about them when I’m considering Zen v Obi endgame because it opens up the possibility that things can change.

Yes it’s a shojo and shojo protagonists tend to stick with their initial love interest... blah blah blah. I don’t think this preconceived notion of how shojo manga ‘always goes’ is a valid point anymore.

So .... I think the comments we are both thinking of usually refer to Shirayuki’s Path and how she must be able to Stand By Zen’s Side as an Ally, etc. So I’ll kind of be thinking of this from the angle of a Journey. 

Everything discussed is also after The Play We Believe is Foreshadowing (except for the panels pulled from ch 9 and 20) which I think should be considered for the context of the plot. 

If it is actually foreshadowing for an eventual Obi & Shirayuki story arc -- which tbh we might be in the midst of (currently) at ch 117 without realizing it -- then it’s relevant to how we frame the comments made afterwards. At the end of the day, Akizuki-sensei is an author. She is telling us a story. I think it’s reasonable to seek out clues to foreshadowing in fictional stories. So I’m operating under a 90% certainty that the play is foreshadowing.

I have found that the best (fictional) stories are ones that have been planned carefully. I have no way of verifying if AnS has been so precisely crafted to weave in so much foreshadowing that we speculate over, but damn it sure feels like it was. 

The manga was originally just the first chapter, so we can assume that after writing that chapter and deciding to make it into a series, there was some planning done.

ANyway............... strong speculation ahead. I think I was ~60% thorough in my search to find material relevant to Foreshadowing of a Separation.

Please enjoy! 

1) So we’ll start with a panel from ch 9, 

where Zen is considering his relationship with Shirayuki and his growing crush. 

This panel is, as stated above, part of the story that Akizuki expanded on after the original one-shot. In the first chapter, we get a lot of cute fate-chitchat between Zen and Shirayuki, but I think -- after deciding to continue the story -- Akizuki changed the tone to allow for more character development, and to challenge the Fate tropes often seen in romance. 

Thus, the statement above from Zen that they may not always be together.

foreshadowing ?!   ( ˙▿˙ )

___________________________ 

2) In Chapter 28,

we have the crew essentially saying they are all growing stronger for the sake of each other, and lending their strength as needed.

Within the story, Akizuki-sensei has established a theme of moving forward and changing as needed as a way to get stronger.

Mitsuhide says this to Shirayuki, also in Ch 28:

Why .... does Mitsuhide look so serious as he says this to her? Is he reconciling the fact that Shirayuki and Zens paths may diverge at some point, as they do for the Lyrias arc?

He follows up the above statement with:

He goes on to say, 

“I want you to follow your heart so you can stand on your own wherever Zen takes you.” 

So... maybe that context takes away some of the significance for fellow lovers of AnS. But I don’t think we should just ignore the statement.

I think she’s being given permission to change her mind; that it’s okay for her to have feelings for Zen, but it’s also okay if she chooses to end things. Mitsuhide will support her either way.

Even though the the full remark still has to do with Zen, she is being encouraged to stand on her own. She is her own person. She has friends who will still be there even if she chooses something different from what people expect of her.

In this case -- pertaining to AnS as a whole, from the perspective of everyone who ‘knows’ about ZenYuki in-story and also (meta!) the manga readers -- Shirayuki is expected to someday marry Zen. 

After this, in Chapter 29, Izana is a bit derisive to Shirayuki after she gets the title from Tanbarun. I think his comments are intentionally made to make her uncomfortable. He says,

“Hahahaha! What an unusual title! Amazing!”

- cue confusion from Zen and Shirayuki -

“I wasn’t poking fun at it, it’s just a bit strange. Hmm... before, I said a nobody like her at your side would sully your name, Zen, but with this you can be friends without any such worry, right?

“Shirayuki, I’ve never asked what kind of relationship you want to have with Zen. And I don’t know if it’s something that can be said.”

Alrighty. So. Izana says in front of Shirayuki that he had described her as a nobody. This seems like something said meant to disquiet her, and her initial reaction is, “taken aback,” so we can safely say it was at least temporarily disconcerting for her to hear. I imagine it’s hurtful to hear you were once thought of as someone unworthy of notice.

Don’t get me wrong, I think most of what Izana says and does is in relatively good faith. I think the fandom has come to a general conclusion that he’s testing their relationship. 

Obi finds her in the early morning and he notices that she’s upset, commenting that she’s making a strange face. She is still thinking about what Izana said, and Obi asks,

“Is it about the path you want to take?”

“....No. It’s that I haven’t given it any thought.”

Zen already wishes (though I don’t think he’s explicitly stated it the way he does later in ch 33) to marry Shirayuki, and we see her here facing emotional turmoil because that part of her future isn’t something she has thought about yet. Interesting, to say the least.

I’m not really sure about this, but it seems like she either means where Zen is taking her and / or where she can stand on her own.

And then .......

“Obi, will you lend me a hand?”

“Didn’t I tell you before that I’ll take you wherever you want to go?”

This part of the story is still heavy ZenYuki, but I think Obi saying this to her right now is significant. Akizuki has repeatedly weaved Shirayuki’s path into the themes of the story so far, while contrasting that Zen will meet her at her destination, while Obi will be at her side for the journey. 

Zen and Shirayuki meet and talk. They basically address that Shirayuki doesn’t really know what the future holds, but that she still wants to stand by his side, and says that even though he’s a prince she wants to think it’s okay for her to feel that way. 

You almost forget about the significance of Obi and Shirayuki’s relationship when it’s followed up by this ZenYuki scene. I wonder about the aforementioned nature-of-planning involved in the story and the future of the characters at this point.

gnah how did this post get so long already

___________________________

3) Zen has presumably given his blessing for Obi to be happy in love

In chapter 31, while the group is stranded outside Wistal due to rain, Zen and Obi are in the bath talking about the possibility of Kiki and Mitsuhide getting married.

“It’s fine with me as long as they can say that they’re happy. I intend to make sure of that.”

“You’ll make sure of that?”

“The same applies to you too, Obi.”

More foreshadowing? Presently it seems that the MitsuKiki ship has sunk, so contrasting this conversation to current-manga-events is titillating to me. ESPECIALLY because Zen says that he wants to make sure Obi is happy when Zen knows how Obi feels about Shirayuki. So it’s established that they will support one another as friends.

Later, Kiki and Mitsuhide are talking after dinner and discuss how the nature of Zen and Shirauki’s friendship never changes (that’s the impression I got from it). Mitsuhide recalls when he and Zen talked about the same thing:

I think what Kiki and Mitsuhide are referring to is that Zen and Shirayuki have made a conscious effort to become friends despite the barriers they’ve encountered so far, by way of them showing the strength of their mutual respect and desire to aid one another. I get a similar feel from the conversation between Zen and Mitsuhide. 

And then .....

“The two of us will always be friends.”

ahem

Zen saying this -- in context to everything from the past four chapters -- implies that Zen is okay if their relationship is not romantic. If it is true that the mangas plot was deliberately planned out, these chapters will become increasingly interesting to look back on as the plot progresses. 

The direction of the story has changed since then if we are only looking at the big turning point of Mitsuhide rejecting Kiki.

And despite that rejection, the group is still a group despite their physical distance. 

___________________________ 

Brief note to say that in Ch 33 Izana says to Zen,

“Let me be an ally as you and Shirayuki follow your own path.”

While this is a ZenYuki comment, I see it as Akizuki reinforcing that each character is following their own path and they will be supported as they do.

___________________________

3.5) After this point is the first Lyrias arc, 

where obiyuki shippers are starting to salivate over how much is packed in just for their relationship. I mean .... remember when she pushed him to the ground because she thought he would get hit by snow? And he gives her those moony eyes just like it didn’t stop ... my heart

UGH JUST SAYING IT BECAUSE context! Shirayuki’s path is changing slowly, and Obi is still by her side.

___________________________

4) A period of transition

I think this is around the time the Bergatt arc is actually beginning, leading up even to current-manga-events.

In Chapter 53

And thus, they head towards the path that a new wind blows upon.

The times are changing.

While Shirayuki is preparing for her and Ryuu’s move to Lyrias, Zen and co. are at Wilant meeting with Haruto, who describes fools aiming to throw the country into turmoil. This is a seed for the plot that develops, ie, the Bergatt arc that was not actually resolved when Touka gets taken down at Sereg in ch (?) 86. I bring this up because I think it shows the level of planning that Akizuki has put into the story at this point.

In chapter 55, after Shirayuki has finally been able to tell Zen she’ll be away from Wistal for 2 years, and they have this conversation (slightly paraphrased) after he’s processed for a short time:

Zen -

“Sorry. The fact that you would be leaving the castle was something that I’d never considered. So my reaction was a little slow.

“I’ll hear it. I’m sure there was more you wanted to say.”

Shirayuki -

“I’m really glad that I got to meet you and come to the castle! I’m where I am now because I wanted to become Zen’s ally; and i achieved that by coming to the castle and becoming a royal pharmacist.

“I’m sure that, like how it’s always been, there’s something ahead connecting to my path now. That’s why, because there’s a place I have yet to go, I want to be there.”

This is Zen’s face after she says the above:

What is he thinking? Is he worried about their romantic relationship? I interpret it as preemptive disappointment that they may not stay together.

Shortly after we get to the point you made in your ask (sweet anon) re ch 56 with Mitsuhides comment. This adds to the reinforced theme that change is okay and they will all still be friends and allies regardless of where life takes them.

BUT IMMEDIATELY AFTER Mitsuhide says that in reference to Zen and Shirayuki, Obi responds:

Is Akizuki drawing a parallel between MitsuKiki and ZenYuki? No idea. maybe. But somehow I do not find it coincidental.

This seems like a MitsuKiki hint, meant to fuel the ultra-shippable pair that we all loved... but after the rejected proposal, it’s hard not to see the whole situation differently re: zenyuki / obiyuki and mitsukiki / hisakiki.

Then the first true ObiYuki hug, and this:

“It feels as though Obi might suddenly appear in Lyrias!”

girl you already knew. Shirayuki knows that Obi will follow her.

Obi deliberately postpones going to Lyrias, though, in order to consider his feelings for Shirayuki and how to tell Zen.

Then!! in 58-59 we get long-awaited confirmation from Obi that he has feelings for Shirayuki, and after this beautiful moment Obi goes to Lyrias to be at Shirayuki’s side, and after everything that has happened so far that is a clincher for me regarding our beloved Foreshadowing.

While discussing Obi’s crush on Shirayuki, Obi asks Zen

“Aren’t you going to propose?”

“.......................Well, I’m.. making her .. wait.”

“Master ... I don’t recommend postponing it, you know.”

I wonder about this comment. Is this a clue for us that Zen postponing engagement is going to be a negative thing in the future? 

idk maybe ╮(￣ω￣)╭

Either way ........ This transition period, in between Lyrias 1 and 2, shows us that the story is changing.

___________________________ 

I have definitely not covered all of the possible moments of foreshadowing and am actually going to leave off on that topic for the time being. I might do a part 2 as its own post. 

But for now I will switch to previously mentioned point that...

5) Obi and Shirayuki’s paths are walked together

I think the following two panels are a great way to frame their relationship. Chapter 20 in early Tanbarun arc:  

And then, much later in chapter 106 as they stand by the fire and Shirayuki tells Obi he’s handsome in the light:

“... because you come with me.” ( ╥ω╥ )

And then more delightful talk from chapter 104 that I think is ... gasp 

foreshadowing !!!!!

They are having this discussion after they’ve found out about Kiki becoming engaged to Hisame.

“It’s necessary to have the courage to make a decision and take a step down that path, isn’t it?”

Shirayuki is possibly saying this due to the implications of Kiki’s letter. Kiki has made the choice to take a new path from the one she had been on by marrying Hisame. 

So what about Shirayuki’s journey? Has her growth led her to a path she didn’t expect, and now it will take courage to step down it?

In recent chapters Shirayuki is shown to be seeing Obi differently and as a man:

overhearing him calling her beautiful and being surprised that he is embarrassed she heard

witnessing him going to a marriage meeting

that little moment where he is holding her wrist as a Lyrias knight tells him that the knights sister wishes him luck in love

the firelight comment oh my god

realizing she lost the pin Obi gave her and tearing up as she literally stared at him; upset that the gift she cherished is now missing and potentially realizing how very dear to her Obi actually is

fake dating and the 10 seconds of ... just... I still cant even 

Obi is the one who is by Shirayuki’s side. They developed a bond through years friendship that is now being reframed by Akizuki. The nature of their relationship has been slowly changing and I think we approaching a time in the manga where Shirayuki will realize it.

___________________________

To answer your last question ... I do think ObiYuki has a chance and I do not think the author is just toying with us. I’ve talked a lot about my ObiYuki Endgame feels in previous posts/asks. I could probably talk about it forever but this post is absurdly long .... sorry

Thank you so much for the ask! and wow thank you so much if you actually read this whole thing! 

<3 beebs <3

[tammyhybrid21]

Do you think that in the Tadeo Jones universe, some people (average or rich people) think living mummies aren't persons but some creatures they can capture and claim as their own 'cuz they have no rights? (as mentioned by Tad in Movie 2) Kind of like the Apex's view of denizens in IT. I think this could be adressed in Tad 3. But I'll be sad because Mummy is going to find the hard way that for powerful people, his feelings and opinions doesn't matter (Twice, if we count the Spanish conquista)

Ohhhh man!

I have been-- stewing over how best to answer this since I saw it yesterday, because part of me has IDEAS-- the other part has a rant that has kind of been building for a while in general when you just examine the movies and the setting and even the actual community represented in reality(that being Archaeologists not-- well)

And LOOK-- I have TEA!

Frustrated, frustrated tea regarding other aspects of how this all could play out that basically boils down to the one major issue that a lot of those groups has is the issue of "But WE all know!" and the we've boxed this in already.

Which-- Debatably, Tad isn't the only one with some issues... But Sara has-- at least insofar as her reactions to Mummy in movie 2, come to terms past her more nebulous in concept repeated line.

"Mummies can't be alive, it's a contradiction in terms" 

Which-- actually might be an issue that's just on the question of the life/death binary more than it is actually a question of whether someone is human/a person or not. And we ALL know she's definitely got Major Respect over Tad--

Like, I will write a proper analysis over their "Mummy gives advice/pep talk" scenes later-- but--

Sara doesn't just take it and run how Tadeo does-- and she doesn't get hyped about it either. It's soft and subtle and just ARGH--

--

Which, okay beside the point, but I have-- so much on this idea of how people view Mummy-- Because let's for a moment consider what Tad actually says-- in answer to Mummy's "What is with you?" and I want to also talk on what people tend to associate with and call monsters... and how... that might also factor into this whole mess.

"Listen you're a mummy, you scare people. In my world you're a zombie!"

Which-- okay, on the surface this is just an on the nose point about how well, Mummy is undead. Ahahah, the living dead and I suppose living mummies are their own form of zombie-- although really it's more like they're cousins as zombies are usually more... in process of decay while mummies are preserved/petrified... Buuuut in any case... not the point here really.

But rather...

Let's talk about how "Monster Movies" come in here. And what zombies tend to be synonymous with nowadays. You know-- for the most part. Mindless, brainless, sometimes killers though not always-- But ultimately-- Does... anyone actually watch zombie shows for in-depth exploration of zombies ever anymore? Aside a few exceptions, and same in games-- Zombies are relegated to just brainless/mindless monsters.

Which--

On the other side of that-- monsters.

Tad never quite uses that word but--

"First, you're not human"

Mummies-- are monsters. In stories and fiction. Used to scare, used to awe, used to add scenery dressing, spooky, freaky, creepy-- and when they're not-- well it's rare. But if they're not the villains, they're not "human". Which think about that for a moment, in all the monster stories we have but a few where the monsters aren't outright put in that position.

But a monster is usually in a story put into one role and box. And if they're not outright there just to be spooky, or the whole new misunderstood monster trope-- which well, that's a whole other thing. But we all know the usual "monster shtick".

Violent, scary, simple, dumb, driven by base impulses, nonhuman, Very, very often as lesser, other, and something to be feared/hunted/destroyed.

And while modern day does move away from that--

ISSUES still prevail.

And I have-- just got to aside here, but like, thinking on this but-- the Phone Mummy sign outside of Tad's window as a child has some... other weird things. Because as a wild aside, my dumb brain has decided to A - B link this with a series I watched on television from 2005-2007

Because of THIS stupid Mummy Scam Artist character. And it's dumb, has nothing to do with the issue of mummies(and other potential beings and creatures of myth and legend) having less rights. But this whole phone billboard-- with the Mummy, it's legit right up this character's kind of scam alley and I may or may not one day just rewatch his two villain episodes to get his personality clear in my head JUST to do a dumb crossover.(And for nostalgia, but that's not news)

BUT--

Advertising does tell us some things already. In how people possibly think and could respond/react.

Yet still-- there is something more I think that we're missing in this conversation on how people will potentially treat the discovery of a living mummy. Or really any supernatural being. If not with fear(which look-- fear the unknown, fear different, fear of monsters), arguably those who're intrigued, interested could be far, far worse.

Also-- I just have, much tea on other responses for even those who might briefly "respect" him. Because look-- Mummy would be a priceless artefact in a way, treasure and discovery all on his own-- BUT also a new potential source of information of a culture that for the most part has been lost and erased by history.

People could and would ask questions.

Whiiich is where I have doubts about how they will accept the answers to those questions. Because here's the thing, for all the Archaeology community loves to act as if they let discoveries speak for themselves, and even I suppose historians-- There are just-- so many times I watch and listen to documentaries and get SO FRUSTRATED-- because they're stubborn IDIOTS, who actually refuse to take in the evidence in front of them of any truths outside of what they're SO SURE has to be the TRUTH!

For those who speak of learning all about history and it's secrets, they're so damn high and mighty to reject anything that doesn't immediately fit with already established "facts". It must be an anomaly, aliens, can't be what we're actually seeing right--

And well even people today interacting-- Like-- I've seen people try to correct someone on the pronunciation of their own name before.

So I am almost certain there would be at least one idiot who'd be all high and mighty and just-- Mummy has LIVED it. It's his culture he grew up in and some idiot speaking over him saying his lying, which I just-- I am certain would happen(but probably not in canon because who would DARE?!)-- Just "EXCUSE ME?!"

Which is it's own kind of disrespect and hell, crash Tad's pillars again. Yes please!

Which... on that account--

I kiiiind of want to talk about how Tad needs a smack on this... and that wake up to the truths of the high and mighty and bloody prideful issues of the community. BUT more than that-- I actually want to think about that point you made about how Mummy's supposed transformation in movie 3 comes across and the further themes of this question of humanity and rights is in regards to this whole issue.

Because yeah, there's the issue, front and CENTER.

The question/implication of this resembling Ammut, and implied loss of humanity. Along with the fact that Tad's the likely TRUE CENTER of the curse-- since he's the idiot who opened the sarcophagus in the first place...

WHICH CAN I JUST SAY--

There's a very good possibility in regards to that issue-- potentially having to do with some of Tad's more... subtle issues. Or even the ones that are close to the surface and yet not. I've screamed already on Tadeo's Internalized Ableism... along with some small nods to Mummy's own less severe cast with that but-- This is directly playing into that image of monsters and nonhumanity--

And I could probably add an additional few pages of speculation onto this but--

I actually am... also worried for the pets. If only because uhhh, have you seen the original two Tadeo Jones shorts from before it become movies? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XxhNMbpE2A & https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoJBzI2AUOw

I mean not assuming anything, but I can definitely believe they wouldn't be above having that threat present at the least.(I mean just that second one... with what I guess is concept-Jeff) Even if Mummy is most definitely going to be the one at the MOST RISK. But with that-- comes the question of humanity.

And while yeah-- I do imagine, all too easily there will be many people more focused on the discovery-- I think there's an interesting mess that Tadeo is going to be FORCED to confront with this-- in how he has that displaced view.

Because here's the weird thing.

I've kind of mentioned it before but not really expanded or explained very clearly-- but for all of Tad's issues... he cares about Mummy probably more than he even really realizes. It's in small to big things as well. Again-- for all his trash behaviour in movie 2, I do think a lot of it is very, very misplaced attempts at some form of protection...

Which I also really want to at some point make a post that's just...

"Tad's I'm Helping moments and how they made things worse for everyone"

But that's for later... For now...

I kind of want to grab a few things.

"You're already dead, RUN!"

I also actually counted how quickly he ran back to Mummy for this moment, and it's LITERALLY two seconds, from when Mummy collapses to Tadeo's check on him. Also I'd like to mention with this-- he's supposedly tunnel visioning on Sara(and he ruins it within the next scene pretty quickly)

...

And for all they're kind of dumb decisions.

DEBATABLY-- when he's trying to hide Mummy.

"Hide"

Ugh-- BUT Tadeo has a very... complicated issue here really. Because yes-- Tad very much has that nonhuman issue, but he CARES. And then-- there's how the whole Ammut thing feels set and the symbolic meaning there(ALSO INTERESTING SARA SEEMINGLY ISN'T CAUGHT BY THAT). But here's the thing--

With Ammut kiiind of come those scales and the feather.

It's not like that mythology isn't unknown-- but more to the point-- it feels kind of like force Tad to confront his mixed up view. On Mummy's humanity or lack of-- But really as the audience Mummy feels the most human at this point in time-- whiiich we can get into a debate on what even is human nature later-- but--

I am kind of hoping that we get a callout of a number of things regarding Tad's behaviour.

With some primary focus on this dynamic between him and Mummy and really seeing how he responds to that idea that Mummy is nonhuman to really be thrown into full view and scope. And listen...

You cannot cheat the scales.

...

As an aside generally, if he is turning into a form or version of Ammut even if initially the community is a danger because he's a living mummy that creates a whole other issue of how he'd be viewed as a danger due to the role that's possibly growing more and more of an instinct.

But yeah... I will probably now make a more formulated rant on this later, or like, minor expansions on the topic but-- yeah.

I have been CHEWING on these thoughts, ideas and concepts for a while.

With additional tea. Because when people think they know something too often they refuse to see differently.

(Also at some point I am going to make a personal rant on duality verses binary due to insistent terminology issues I have but ugh)

[ouyangzizhensdad]

RE: WWX and his arc being about trauma. I got into the fandom through CQL and the first time I saw it I actually read a lot of his actions post the burning of Lotus Cove as being influenced by his trauma. He's paranoid even before getting thrown into the burial mounds. He seems to be self medicating with alchohol (which WQ kinda calls him out on). He over-reacts to a lot things, which seems to me like a nasty case of emotional dysregulation as a result of PTSD. He avoids all kinds (1/3)

Of reminders of his tramua, his sword being the greatest example but there were other little things. He never gave much of a fuck about propriety but the way he completely igonres it (and the possible social fallout) later speaks to me less about not caring and more about not *having* the emotional capacity to care, much like what happens with depression. Plus, a lot of his behaviour can be read with various shades of being self destructive, and there are just in general a lot of points (2/3)

Where it's made clear that he's in a pretty bad headspace (him crying about being useless in the burial mounds for example), but none of that ever really gets dealt with so all of those issues are still hanging under the surface even if they're not apparent all the time. I mean, this is just my take, but at least imo WWX ticks a lot of the checkboxes for PTSD in the drama and it explains a lot about the way he acts and the bad decisions he makes. Hope this was helpful! (3/3)

I'm only referring to the drama btw, not the novel (which I haven't read yet). My memory is terrible so I'm not sure if I made it clear or not lol. Anyways, have a good day ^^

Hi there, 

I am always curious when people who have only engaged with CQL end up engaging with my novel-only meta blog but perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised: if CQL posts end up in the mdzs tag, why not the opposite? I’ve seen some of my novel meta reblogged and tagged with “the untamed” and “CQL” so maybe the answer is already out there, staring at me in the face! 

I’ll start by saying that I do not wish to really argue with people’s interpretations of CQL since I consider that MDZS and CQL are very different works because so many changes were made in the process of adapting the novel, and I personally have no interest in analysing CQL except wrt  how it can help us better understand the novel (seeing certain elements removed or changed may help us understand why they mattered in the first place or what their use was). So I will speak to the arguments that could be applied to the novel and why *I* don’t think WWX’s arc in the novel is about trauma, and why I don’t think that picking up certain behaviours that can be exhibited by people with PTSD (but not exclusively by people with PTSD) is enough in itself to support the idea that a character’s arc is about trauma/shaped by PTSD. That does not mean that my interpretation is the only acceptable one--I am aware that a lot of people disagree with me on this and see trauma as a central theme/central part of WWX’s arc--and so I expect that a lot of people will disagree with my points (hopefully after they’ve read this post in good faith). And that’s perfectly fine: how likely is it that we can find another person who will agree 100% with our own interpretation of a work of fiction? And having divergent opinions floating around the fandom, or having to develop counter-arguments is a good way to strengthen our own pov if we don’t find ourselves convinced by that other interpretation, so it’s all good. 

So first, I’ll address the biggest point of my argument before moving to address more specific points you raise in your ask. For me, WWX’s characterisation is not about trauma but about resilience. 

So first, let’s clarify some things. Going through adversity/experiencing a situation that is difficult =/= experiencing trauma. Trauma is a concept referring to a potential response to going through adversity/experiencing something distressing or disturbing. In short, trauma as it is conceptualised and understood is not universal: not only in the sense that is a spatiotemporally specific concept used to make certain experiences intelligible, but as the reaction to difficult events (as well, what is considered to be an experience that falls under that concept is not itself universal and can take many gorms, and the behaviours and thoughts associated with trauma are generally not exclusive to it, ie having certain behaviours/thought processes is not an automatic proof that someone is dealing with trauma/ptsd). So after all this word vomit I want to clarify that my intent is not to suggest that WWX doesn’t go through experiences that are likely to cause trauma, but that to me, what is being portrayed is a different reaction to these events: resilience (if a slightly more “fictional” portrayal of resilience than what it would be presented in psychology/psychiatry). 

Resilience refers to how people adapt or recover successfully from adversity/distressing situation/stress. That does not mean that people’s first reaction to adversity/distressing situations will be not defined by negative emotions, of course. For instance, I don’t think WWX’s heightened paranoia/emotional state directly after the fall of LP when he goes to look for JC is an indication of trauma because at this point WWX is still deep in the middle of that moment of adversity: he’s still a fugitive in the middle of a war, in the middle of danger. This also doesn’t mean that people cannot still have some temporary negative reactions to things that happened to them, afterwards: WWX having to pause when JC presents him with Suibian after he returns from Mass Grave Hill is not inherently an indication of trauma as it can be read that his sword a reminder of the difficult sacrifice he made--and the consequences he faced as a result (just because a situation was not traumatic doesn’t mean we enjoy revisiting it).

Why I think that WWX’s arc or characterisation is about resilience rather than trauma is because of many things, but mostly I want to point out two sections of the novel in particular. 

First, this characterisation of WWX through JYL that we get relatively early in the novel:

Most memories from back then were already blurred. Yet, Jin Ling’s mother, Jiang Yanli, remembered all of them, and even told him quite a few. She said that, after his father heard of the news that his parents both died in battle, he had always dedicated himself to finding the child that these past friends had left behind. After searching for a while, he finally found the child in Yiling. 

The first time they met, Wei Wuxian was kneeling on the ground, eating the fruit peels that somebody tossed on the ground. Yiling’s winter and spring were quite cold, yet the child only wore thin layers. His knees were already tattered, and on his feet were two different shoes that didn’t fit at all. As he was looking down, searching for fruit peels, Jiang Fengmian called him. He still remembered that there was a “Ying” in his name, so he lifted his head. Although his cheeks were both red and chapped from the cold, he still wore a smile. 

Jiang Yanli said that he was born with a smiling look. No matter what unfortunate thing happened, he wouldn’t cling on to them; no matter what situation he was in, he would be happy. Although it sounded a bit heartless, it really was not bad.

This refers to a time of his life that is extremely difficult: he lost both his parents suddenly, at a young age, became suddenly homeless with no means to feed himself except to beg, and yet the only trauma he seems to carry from this experience is related to dogs. To me, this is a clear move from MXTX to position WWX as the kind of protagonist who can face a storm and keep his smile on his face. I can imagine that some people take it perhaps as a subversion, as the text telling us that WWX is weathering it all with a smile but underneath it all he is just a bundle of unaddressed trauma. And that’s certainly a possible interpretation, but it’s not mine. In this case I think the text is being straightforward. What we see of WWX also seems to support that: the way WWX just rolls with being brought back from the death, how easily he finds a way to adapt to things, etc.

I also find it meaningful that the novel choses to include in its ultimate chapter this discussion as part of its wrap-up of WWX’s journey and of Wangxian’s relationship.

After they left the shop, Wei Wuxian still sat on Xiao Pingguo while Lan Wangji held the reins in front.Swaying left and right atop the donkey, Wei Wuxian took the flute from his waist and placed it by his lips. The limpid notes flew across the sky like birds. Lan Wangji halted and listened quietly.

It was the song he sang for Wei Wuxian when they were stuck in the Xuanwu cave. It was also the song that Wei Wuxian just so happened to have played at Dafan Mountain, the song that enabled Lan Wangji to confirm his identity.

When he finished, Wei Wuxian winked his left eye towards Lan Wangji.

“How was it? Beautiful, huh?”

Lan Wangji slowly nodded. “For once.”

Wei Wuxian knew that ‘for once’ referred to how his memory was good for once. He could not help but smile.

“Don’t always be so angry about it. It was my fault in the past, alright? Besides, my terrible memory should be accredited to my mom.” Wei Wuxian propped his arm on Xiao Pingguo’s head, spinning Chenqing in his hand. “My mom said you have to remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts would they finally feel free.”

This was one of the only things he remembered about his parents.

Of course, this is not a direct reference to resilience as it is explored in psychology. But to me it speaks to that idea: one of the biggest lesson WWX has kept with him, one of his only memory of--and thus legacy from--his parents, is this idea that we should not hold so much in our hearts. It also reframes his bad memory as being the result of a philosophy, of an approach to life that not just about being grateful/paying your debts to others, but also a form of resilience, in a sense. 

As well, I find that a lot of people who go with the trauma interpretation see WWX’s actions and thoughts processes dyring his YLLZ’s days as being the result of his ptsd, where I personally read it as the influence of modao. I am aware as well that some people do not think that modao actually harmed WWX during that period of his life, but I don’t think that LWJ would have been worried if there were not reasons to believe it would:

One against two, Lan Wangji still refused to back off. He gazed at Wei Wuxian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.”

Wei Wuxian, “I can pay.”

Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan Wangji lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well (此道损身，更损心性。)”

So now, onto the specific points you raised in the ask.

Self-medicating with alcohol: WWX is shown to enjoy and drink large amounts of alcohol before the fall of LP and after most of the events of the novel have unfolded. In the novel, while WQ tries to make WWX stop drinking, it is as likely to believe that it is for his health (now that he doesn’t have a golden core) than it would be because she was worried he was self-medicating. As well, heavy drinking is a very normalized behaviour (although most physicians don’t think it’s a good thing) in a lot of cultures and times, and considering WWX’s higher tolerance and his general demeanor while imbricated, his drinking is not shown to have a negative effect on his ability to live his life. The line between “self-soothing” (normal aspect of being humans dealing with emotions and hardships) and “self-medicating” (pathological) is hard to trace with alcohol consumption. As well, just because people with PTSD may self-medicate with alchohol doesn’t mean all people who self-medicate with alcohol do it because of PTSD. 

He's paranoid even before getting thrown into the burial mounds. As I mentioned briefly before, WWX is at the time a fugitive in the middle of a war: he’s still in the middle of those stressful events and his paranoia is not necessarily a maladaptive response since they are still very much fugitives in the middle of a war. Trauma is not really your reaction during but in the aftermath. It would be more telling if WWX were still exhibiting signs of paranoia in situations where he would have no reasons to. 

He over-reacts to a lot things, which seems to me like a nasty case of emotional dysregulation as a result of PTSD. I’m not certain at which reactions you are referring to here, but especially considering that some of this might be chalked up to acting choices since this is based on CQL, I probably won’t address this one point too much in relation to the novel. I do want to emphasize though that we’ve seen prior to Sunshot campaign that WWX can be quite impulsive in certain situations (hitting JZX for insulting Shijie, which he does both before and after the events of the Sunshot Campaign). As well, I do think it’s important to remember that he is still in the middle of the war during the Sunshot campaign, and that he is also hiding something pretty important from the people close to him and living a sort of double life, on top of experiencing fatigue/hunger in a way he hasn’t for years due to the loss of his golden core. In short, there are a lot of things going on that can be used to explain what can be seen as “over-reactions” without necessarily going with PTSD.

avoids all kinds  reminders of his trauma, his sword being the greatest example but there were other little things. I’ve broached in my previous discussions, but it’s also pertinent to remember his mom’s philosophy: we can also see this as WWX trying to leave in the pass this difficult sacrifice he made in order to move forward. 

He never gave much of a fuck about propriety but the way he completely ignores it (and the possible social fallout) later speaks to me less about not caring and more about not *having* the emotional capacity to care, much like what happens with depression. I have to disagree with that interpretation of WWX and WWX’s actions, but again this might just be a case of CQL-only vs novel-only interpretations of the character. One thing WWX thinks about being reborn in a “lunatic’s” body is that he’ll get to have fun, the way he never could when his actions reflected on others. So while at times WWX flaunts propriety, he is aware of how his actions can impact others and show in different situations that he is aware of propriety. His choice to protect the Wen Remnants goes against that, for sure, but it isn’t necessarily a case of not understanding the possible social fallout so much as putting other things (ie his life-debt towards WN and WQ) before propriety, as we can see for example in this exchange.

Jiang Cheng, “I’m the one who fucking wants to give you a thrashing! Yes, they helped us before, but why in the world don’t you understand that right now any remnant of the Wen Sect is a target of criticism! No matter who they are, with a surname of Wen they have committed a most heinous crime! And those who protect the Wen are at risk of being condemned by everyone! All the people loathe the Wen-dogs so badly that the worse they die the better. Whoever protects them is against the entire world. Nobody would speak for them, and nobody would speak for you either!”

“I don’t need anyone to speak for me.”

[...]

Swords unsheathed, the two stared at each other for a while. Neither was willing to take a single step back. A while later, Jiang Cheng spoke, “Wei Wuxian, have you still not realized what the situation at hand is like? Do you really need me to say it out loud? If you insist on protecting them, then I won’t be able to protect you.”

“There’s no need to protect me. Just let go.”

Jiang Cheng’s face twisted.

Wei Wuxian, “Just let go. Tell the world that I defected. From now on, no matter what Wei Wuxian does, it’d have nothing to do with YunmengJiangShi.”

“… All for the Wen Sect…? Wei Wuxian, do you have a savior complex? Is it that you’ll die if you don’t stand up for someone and stir up some trouble?”

Wei Wuxian stayed quiet. A while later, he answered, “So that’s why we should cut ties right now, in case anything I do affects YunmengJiangShi in the future.”

a lot of his behaviour can be read with various shades of being self destructive Which ones, specifically? I’m not trying to be obtuse, but I’m not sure which ones you mean. 

he's in a pretty bad headspace (him crying about being useless in the burial mounds for example) It needs to be said that the crying is only in CQL (it was an acting choice by XZ). My memory is playing tricks on me, but I think pre-rebirth we only see him cry after he kills JZX and after JYL’s death? Someone please fact-check me on this. 

Since I don’t believe it was MXTX’s intent to make WWX’s characterisation and arc about trauma, I do feel like interpreting the different behaviours as signs of his PTSD might lead us to miss out on other potential interpretations or meanings behind these choices, if we put aside the PTSD angle. It may also lead us to deny the text the possibility to signify something different through these behaviours and signs, especially on a thematic level--to explore something about how events and emotions shape us in a manner that exists outside of modern psychiatric classification.

TLDR (because god this got long): My point is not that WWX is unaffected by the things that happened to him or the things he’s done during this portion of his life: of course he is! Especially as they are happening to him, or when he is still stuck in a very difficult situation. But I don’t think his character and his arc is about trauma but instead about resilience. That, at the end of MDZS, WWX is still the person JYL described: No matter what unfortunate thing happened, he wouldn’t cling on to them.

[helkiedustballs]

Mental Illness and the Horror Genre

An exploratory essay by Emma L. Gilbert

The relationship between horror media and mental illness is messy, and on many occasions outright screwed up. Today, I’m going to take you through various examples of horror films that utilize mental illnesses and disabilities, often as a central theme, and examine how exactly mental illness is used to benefit the tone of each film, and how some of them may or may not use it in a distasteful fashion.

Without further ado, here we go!

“Psycho” is the earliest film I know of at the moment that utilizes mental illness explicitly as a sort of evil or “villain”. The big reveal is that the character Norman Bates’s late mother developed as another personality inside his head which, very clearly, resembles Dissociative Identity Disorder (we will actually be talking about DID more than once today, as it appears to be the most common mental condition used in horror movies next to psychosis or schizophrenia).

I can only assume in the time of “Psycho’s” release, this portrayal was considered anything but realistic to general audiences (The term “psycho” is even considered a slur nowadays by a fair few mental health experts and activists). Mentally ill individuals were but a disturbed fantasy in the minds of the public, and in many ways they still are.

In more modern times, mental illnesses on the “scarier” side (like DID) are seldom understood or spoken about, and this makes them a very easy target to use as driving scare factors in horror films. We fear what we don’t understand, we know this, we’re talking about it a lot nowadays, but movies similar to “Psycho” that use such things as plot material for their stories still get made so carelessly.

Let’s dive into another example more thoroughly:

 “Midsommar” is a 2019 horror film directed by Ari Aster, the man behind “Hereditary” (which we will also be discussing). I know a lot of people love this movie, just like people love “Psycho”. It won just about every award from Fangoria’s 2020 “Chainsaw Awards”, which are completely fan influenced. But it completely missed the mark for me because of a couple instances involving disabilities. And while these instances are miniscule, it’s the fact that they are so miniscule, so “tossed in”, that bothers me.

My first problem begins at the start of the movie. We open with our lead fretting over an ominous email sent to her by her mentally ill sister, which is all well and good. But the ultimate result of this situation is that she was right to be worried, as her sister had hooked herself up to a car exhaust pipe which she used to poison herself and their parents, resulting in the death of all three.

This is… extreme. And while it’s absolutely okay to be extreme (I’m one of those horror fans that enjoys a little extremity), it’s peculiar, and yet not so peculiar, to have it alongside the aspect of the opening I’m about to explain.

The illness of the sister character is specifically labeled as bipolar disorder. Why is this specifically a problem for me? Mentally ill people can be dangerous, that’s an indisputable fact. But I’m gonna pause “Midsommar” here, because it’s a good time to shift over to a movie that I believe suffers the same problem.

 “Split”, both in the title movie and in the ensemble “Glass”, refers to anti-hero Kevin Crumb’s disorder as Dissociative Identity Disorder (there it is again!). This was a problem since the very conception of the first film, because it’s doing that thing where a mental disorder is used explicitly to make the villain of a horror film scarier. And while the character of Kevin isn’t ultimately seen as evil, the film still misconstrues many things about DID in order to keep its creep factor (like, people don’t wind up with evil alter egos who kidnap and kill people in a cult-like fashion, and people with DID do not go through extreme physical altercations when different personalities take the front).

This was many folks’ first introduction to the very concept of DID, just like back in the 60s with “Psycho”, and the movie does little to deter the audience from taking what they are seeing as factual. It really drives home the fact that Kevin has this disorder that is real, using that perceived realism to enforce the horror of its story. It uses a lot of typical “professional” imagery and dialogue, such as namedropping the disorder and having the character attend a therapist regularly on-screen. These things in film tend to equate in the general ignorant public’s mind to something bordering on or outright factual. While I choose to believe most people recognize the easy potential for illegitimacy in fictional movies, I still notice, even in myself, how further research is seldom enacted, and the information granted by that movie remains present in the back of our minds.

I’m not trying to say this is entirely the fault of the team behind “Split”, because I believe people should be responsible for recognizing that not everything they see is true, no matter how legit it looks. But the fact is that people are stupid and do take stuff like this as fact whether they realize it or not, and I think that filmmakers and storytellers should hold a little responsibility for making sure their highly fictionalized portrayals of real things (especially real people) don’t get taken as hard fact. Easy resources for understanding complex mental conditions are not popular enough or offered enough to garner the public’s attention; I’m sure someone would rather watch “Split” instead of reading a textbook on DID studies.

 All that being said, let’s go back to “Midsommar”. The mention of bipolar disorder is a one-time occurrence, but it still sticks out to me; both because I noticed a trend in Aster’s films of using mental illness explicitly (like I said, “Hereditary” comes later), and that this diagnosis is used at the ultimate expense of the sister.

Throughout the movie, Terri (the sister) is seen as a scary, taunting ghost through Dani (the lead)’s eyes. She is only ever depicted as that terrifying last picture of her, with tubes taped to her mouth and their parents beside her. She also seems to be looking right at Dani in these sequences, too, if I’m remembering correctly. It’s a fearful memory; her sister is a villain.

Using a disorder described as a “mental disorder that causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, concentration, and ability to carry out daily tasks” to tie to a character that was unhinged enough to plug herself into a car exhaust pipe to kill herself and her family seems… like a reach, to me, at least. She would’ve had to plan that out- it takes serious dedication, supplies, thought, and time to pull that off. Bipolar people can be prone to sudden outbursts, not necessarily to planning and executing an intricate double homicide/suicide.

What I’m trying to say is that there’s no way bipolar disorder was the sole cause here. There were clearly more “things” she had going on, but the only thing they say is that she’s bipolar, therefore suggesting that is the reason behind what she did, and then treat her like a vengeful ghost the rest of the movie.

There is perfectly good reason for Dani to see her sister as something sinister, though. Literally the only aspect of this plot point that messes it up for me is that we have a “diagnosis”. It doesn’t feel right to me to use such a common and non-extreme illness for the sake of being like “ooh check this out, this is a real mental illness and mentally ill people do bad stuff sometimes, look at that! Look!” It’s lame, and unkind, and, like “Split”, borders on irresponsible. It’s times like this where a character’s mental condition could use a little more ambiguity, especially when it’s literally never brought up again. It’s so nonchalant, so careless, and that’s what bothers me.

Now, I’m gonna move away from mental illness alone for a hot second and explore how “Midsommar” treats its other disabled character.

“Midsommar” depicts an explicitly inbred character with a facial deformity named Ruben who lives with the Swedish cult and is treated like a sort of “higher being”. They are clearly treated with care, but through the gaze of the American characters, we see them as off-putting. And, again, this framing makes sense, as Ruben was purposefully conceived through incest because of some misguided religious belief that disabled people are closer to clarity.

But, stop; what is this portrayal doing, again? It is doing that thing where it uses a disabled character to give us the creeps. And this is made worse when Ruben goes on to kill and skin one of the American characters, and then wear his face as a mask.

Okay, listen. It’s wrong of the cult to purposefully bring a very physically and mentally challenged individual into the world for religious reasons, but that’s not relevant to my point. Yeah, it’s weird, but people like that character are real- and, no matter how they came to be, they’re here now. Why are we always looking at these people with pity or fear, and normalizing that reaction? It can be jarring to see someone who looks like that, sure, but they’re a person, and should be treated like one.

Oh, and not to mention having Ruben wear the skinned face of a “normal” person is absolutely representative of wanting to “look like everybody else”, which is a screwed-up narrative especially when you’re using the disabled person as a straight-up monster. I get the whole “skin the fool” thing, that was funny, but did we have to do that? This is Ruben’s “normal”, and that’s not an awful thing.

Before we reach “Hereditary”, I’d like to say that the utilization of deformed people as killers and monsters in horror is, I think, arguably more prevalent and inescapable than the use of mental illness by itself. It’s present to a point where we just have to deal with it and the amount of irreplaceably iconic villains with facial deformities, but I’d like to believe that we can do better and move past that. Make a monster, not a person.

 Let’s get cracking on “Hereditary” now, which I think uses mental illness as a much more core aspect to its story than “Midsommar”. Again, Aster makes it clear out the gate that our evil character (the grandmother) was indeed mentally ill, and this is, again, used at the character’s expense.

Now, I wanna keep this short, because with how much I went off talking about “Split” and “Midsommar”, I think that what I find troublesome about a movie called “Hereditary” about a mentally ill cultist grandmother passing on her “lifestyle” to her family is rather obvious.

I mostly want to discuss the character of Charlie, because her portrayal is what bugs me the most. My gripe with her is that she is very obviously autistic, or something along those lines, which is framed as a creepy thing about her. She’s supposed to be some kind of “chosen one” that her grandmother wanted, and I guess this was grounds to have her be the “creepy one”. But this can be done without making the character blatantly mentally compromised (and before anyone comes for me, I’m autistic, and despite the many wonderful things about it, it also does hinder me from some basic things in life, so, yeah, it’s compromising). It’s just so tacky, uninspired, and tired.

In regards to other characters, we see Annie speak of how her grandmother suffered from mental conditions (I can’t recall whether or not one was specifically named), and then watch her exhibit various “scary” symptoms herself (trying to set her son on fire, etc.), which grow worse post-Charlie’s death as she is wracked with grief. Annie’s case isn’t quite as terrible as things such as “Split”, as she never actually does anything, only attempts and then snaps herself out of it (before the end of the movie where everything goes to hell, of course). My main problems, as mentioned, are with Charlie and the grandmother, mostly Charlie. I just wanted to attempt to cover all “Hereditary’s” portrayals at least briefly before moving on to my next subject.

 Now that I’m done being mad, let’s explore another recent horror film that uses mental illness as a core aspect.

“Daniel Isn’t Real” is a 2019 film by Adam Egypt Mortimer about a boy (Luke) who experiences a traumatic event as a young child, which he copes with by manifesting an imaginary friend named Daniel. Daniel doesn’t stick around, though, as he tricks Luke into poisoning his mother, almost killing her, and resulting in the two locking Daniel away.

It’s incredibly easy to decipher the, once again, use of DID symptoms. One could easily push this movie aside due to this fact, as clearly, the mental illness is used as the spooky horror thing again. But I’m of the belief that this film handles itself a little better than the likes of “Split”, and here’s why.

It’s a bad thing to use mental illness as your villain, unless you do it right, and there is a way to do that. Luke (the mentally ill person) isn’t the villain, Daniel (the mental illness symptom) is, just like Kevin isn’t “Split’s” villain, but the important difference is that, in “Daniel Isn’t Real”, the audience sympathizes realistically with Luke, doesn’t turn his illness into something extremely outlandish. In “Split”, the audience is following the heroine, who is terrified of the outside force that is Kevin and his personalities. “Split’s” DID is otherworldly and threatening. “Daniel Isn’t Real’s” DID is threatening, but something the audience and Luke hold hands through and fight together.

Aside from some muddy metaphorical aspects (assuming I’m reading it right) and the use of some racial stereotypes common in horror films, “Daniel Isn’t Real” is on the upper end of horror featuring mental illness.

It is also worth noting that there is actually a specific mental illness brought to attention in the film, schizophrenia, as Luke is seen reading a book about it once he starts realizing he’s losing control of Daniel. But this is merely a suggestion, as he doesn’t actually know what is going on in his head and we never get an official declaration of his condition. This brief clip pretty much only helped in solidifying my perception of the story as about mental illness first, and a demonic imaginary friend second. If you ask me, I think dissociative identity disorder fits more with the film than schizophrenia, but my knowledge on both of these disorders is relatively “bare basics”, so take that with a grain of salt. And besides, from this point on I’m going to be looking at the portrayal mainly as an undefined trauma induced condition.

I view Daniel as a visual representation of Luke’s mental condition. He is rude, and childish, and malicious, nothing like who Luke is, who wants nothing more than to get rid of him. Mental illness can feel like there is some evil thing in your brain telling you awful things and threatening your existence, and Daniel represents this feeling perfectly.

Going even deeper, the movie opens with a shooter entering a small café and massacring multiple patrons and themself. One of the things that causes Daniel to manifest is Luke, having left his home where his parents are shouting at one another non-stop, coming face to face with the dead shooter. It is later revealed that Daniel, an ancient demonic “imaginary friend”, was inhabiting the shooter at the time, thus making him the cause of the massacre. And he chose Luke as his next host on that fateful day.

Pause now. We’ve got a blatant mental illness metaphor, and it’s the direct cause of a murder. Why am I more lenient on this and hard on things like “Midsommar”? It’s because this detail plays into what I view as a very interesting interpretation of mental conditions and their preceding trauma.

Looking past Daniel being a demon, I see this as the shooter struggling with the same or a similar type of mental condition caused by a past trauma. This person was sick, as all terrorists of this breed are. Again, this narrative is helped by the fact that we are following Luke and not someone on the outside of his problem, and therefor understand the real lack of control had by anyone Daniel (A.K.A. mental illness) has touched, and, more importantly, the helplessness they feel.

Am I saying people who enact gun violence are partially innocent and have no free will? No, that’s stupid. The real point of me bringing this up is simply that I find it interesting how the film looks at trauma as sort of a contagion. Hurt people can hurt people, and traumatized people can traumatize people. Whatever “demons” that killer hosted were passed on to Luke- and, if the film wanted to go for a broader subject and ditch the singular evil imaginary friend concept, passed onto many others, too. But, it didn’t, and I think that works best, as symptoms like Daniel typically only manifest in young children, assuming you wanna go with the DID/schizophrenia reading, which is what the film offers to us.

We see experiences and fears felt by everyone who has mental illnesses portrayed visually in “Daniel Isn’t Real”, sometimes feeling like a mixed bag of different symptoms from different mental conditions. I see myself and my own experiences in Luke, and it feels good to see the mentally ill person as the hero, and the mental illness being at least mainly a threat to the mentally ill person rather than the outside world, which is how it is more often than not.

And while the movie ends on a sad note, actually quite similar to Kevin’s end in “Glass”, what it does with its runtime is, for the most part, what I want to see more of in terms of mental illness in horror.

 Like I said at the beginning, we’re an easy target. Autistic, obsessive compulsive, anxious, depressed people like me are scary when you have no idea what you’re looking at. Yes, we can be dangerous sometimes, but to nobody more than ourselves. But much more than dangerous, we’re scary to ourselves.

I’ve lived in terror for long periods of time before due to my mental illnesses, and I’ve had this thought; “why doesn’t someone make a horror movie where the mentally ill person is the protagonist, and the mental illness is the monster?” “Daniel Isn’t Real” executed this idea almost perfectly, if not for the fact that Daniel was out to hurt other people, because what’s scarier than a person with a realistic mental condition hurting other people? Ooooo.

Living with mental illness can feel like a horror movie all on its own. The horror is in my head, and I can’t kill it, only keep it at bay, control it. And I think that is scarier than any Norman Bates, than any Kevin Crumb, than any Ruben. To live with a force in your head that wants nothing more than you for to be in misery is a horrific reality worse than any killer.

And before I close, I want to comment on one more little detail. I’m much more critical on recent movies that work with this subject matter than I am on older movies; that’s why I had so much to say about the Aster films and “Split” and so little about “Psycho”. This is because I understand how invisible the very concept of mental illness was in everyday society in “Psycho’s” time. It wasn’t just an easy target, it was a given, and nobody writing these films had any idea of what they were doing or the seedling of thought to look into it. It was that alien.

Today, we are talking about mental illness so much, and yet we are still so careless with what we use it for in our media. It is blasphemous to me that directors and writers still insist on using mentally ill people as villains and creepy characters. Mental illness is such a complex experience that deserves to be explored from the viewpoint of those of us who live with it, not as a toy for the bigshot horror director of the hour to toss around like a hot potato.

There was an excuse in the 1960s. There is no excuse now. We can do better.