#wherein I sound like frank

[starwarmth]

A Cinderella adaption wherein the prince can’t remember exactly what she looks like because he had drank a bit too much to get through the ball and spends the night being a tad too open and vulnerable with a stranger — yes, a beautiful one — but a stranger nonetheless. Why, she could get him to blurt out governments secrets to her!

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she demurs, trying not to laugh at his earnestness.

He peers at her. “No, you wouldn’t,” he decides. His eyes are wide and frank. “But see, that makes me want to tell you all the more.”

“I promise to try to forget whatever you tell me,” she tells him. “Only you must do the same for me, please. Try to forget what I tell you.”

“I don’t know if I could,” he says, sounding contrite. He can’t give her what she wants, for he can’t forget her.

“That’s all right,” she tells him. “The drink may forget for you.”

“Never!”

His declaration is accompanied by a vehement motion with his hand.

She snags his wrist before it can crash into a tower of glasses. “Your Highness, why don’t we go outside? It is lovely out, and I could use the fresh air.”

“You mean I could use the fresh air,” he grumbles, but lets her pull him along. “I’ve made a mess of it,” he says, several minutes later, head clearer, somehow, under moonlight.

“I don’t think so,” she says. “After all, you haven’t behaved badly.”

“But I haven’t behaved well,” he says, aggrieved. “I’ve been waiting for you, and here you are, and I’ve made a cake of myself.”

“You’ve been waiting for me?” Her voice is surprised. “How could you know that I was—”

“I just knew,” he says, a tad careless because he’s still upset about being tipsy. “I always knew, with you. And now I’m an ass—oh, I’ve done it again!”

She laughs, a musical sound. “I don’t mind it. I like the openness, anyhow.”

“Do you play the flute?” he asks stupidly, thinking about her laugh, until her words catch up with him. “Openness?”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been able to go to a party in, oh,” she thinks about it, then her expression shutters. She cuts herself short, “A long time. It would be a sad thing if something meant to be fun, and a little trivial, ended up drudgery, the same as every other day. I’m sorry it was, for you.”

“No,” he discounts. “I’m just a rotten scoundrel. I knew I shouldn’t have had that eighth glass — well, the eighth glass after the two glasses of sherry, so technically I suppose it was—”

[baflegacy]

smosh au #???: @jovenshires battle of the bands au

'The Language of Flowers' and Heartbreak: How Amanda Lehan Canto Isn't Letting Us Rest During This Season of Love - NME

There are certain times wherein an artist truly surprises their audience - it happened when Beyonce suddenly released her self-titled album with no rollout or announcement, it happened with Frank Ocean's Blonde, and it happened with Fall Out Boy's sudden return from their hiatus with Save Rock & Roll, but truly nothing could prepare both music critics and casual listeners than a breakup album being released on Valentine's Day. It was definitely a risky move, but it's a risky move that greatly paid off when Amanda Lehan Canto's The Language of Flowers immediately shot up in the Billboard charts on its first week. Hailing from the indie pop band FTC, Lehan-Canto reminds their fans to expect the unexpected by delivering a languid folk album about the one that got away. Filled with Lehan-Canto's soothing melodies and simple but effective production, The Language of Flowers speaks of a relationship crumbling apart but the love still remaining.

"I always described it as a love letter disguised as a breakup album when I was writing it all down," Lehan-Canto tells us in a quick interview. "I wanted to tell a story of how love is present even after something ends; it's a bittersweet thing, but then again, most things in life are." Though this is her first solo album, The Language of Flowers definitely doesn't feel like an album for a first breakup; rather, it's dedicated to your most memorable breakup, the one that'll latch inside your heart. Songs like New York and I'll Wear Your Ring reveal the 'quiet acceptance' stage of a breakup, while Night Shift and Slow Dancing In A Burning Room confess something more sorrowful. We don't know who this album is dedicated to - or if it's dedicated to someone at all (rumors of the mystery subject either being The Chosen's Shayne Topp or fellow bandmate Kimmy Jimenez were immediately debunked as soon as the album was released, though fans are speculating it has something to do with Lehan-Canto unfollowing Angela Giarratana - member of the underground pop trio Lets Do This - on all her socials.) All we know is that fans better give Amanda flowers and chocolates in the next FTC tour. The Language of Flowers is proof that Lehan-Canto has what it takes to break out of the saturated indie scene with heartwrenching lyrics and a soulful sound, and we can't wait to see how she uses her songwriting prowess in her next solo (or FTC) album.

[escrivoir]

For the send me a fic, can I have "stay all night" pleeeease?

Oh lord, the fic you inspired! Congratulations and thank you for that, @reallylilyreally haha.

My favorite scene

Right after the awful snow/Bastogne-adjacent scene, wherein Nix accidentally kisses both Dick and Tab and then nearly wrecks his car when he realizes what he's done, racing home to call his secretary and tell her that he won't be in because they're all sick - and she's already rescheduled all of his meetings.

My favorite chapter (if it's a multichapter)

Chapter 8: Dick scaring Stanhope, and everything related to planning the wedding, especially because everyone in Easy is so fucking baffled about it. And there's the Easy reunion / real wedding.

Hardest scene to write

This one - it kickstarts so much insanity.

So: while she travels, she’s been bringing along reading material - journals and articles about fertility and birth control, both of which are progressing in the most marvelous way these last few years. In the most unlikely of fashions, it appears that her Stanford education is serving her well. It turns out there are options she’d never thought of, although some of them are … undignified.

“Undignified!?” her brother yelps when she lays it out to the boys that evening. “It’s a farce!” 

Dick and Tab exchange a significant look. Neither of them are rejecting it out of hand, which is encouraging. It’s something that had never even occurred to Dick, she can tell; there’s surprise and a little bit of discomfort at the frankness of the topic, but he’s not disgusted, and he’s certainly not panicking like Lewis.

“It works in animals,” Tab points out reasonably. “With quite a bit of success, and even less dignity.” Of course Bunny would know; agriculture engineering was a lot of math and science, but he’d also spent time at working farms, which has paid off in the immediate success of Ferme Parachute, as she’s now termed it. Blanche doesn’t actually know what their business is, and she’s not sure she cares. It has something to do with… food for cows?

“My sister is not a cow! ” Lewis cries. She rolls her eyes and bites back the urge to look him straight in the eyes and moo. It’s a tough sacrifice, but that’s what good sisters are for.

Favorite character to write in the fic

Blanche! The struggles of being a wealthy heiress sound laughable, but just like Nix, there were so many impossible expectations thrown at her.

Favorite dynamic to write in the fic

Friendly: Blanche & Nix - siblings with a whole lot in common, and similar chips on their shoulders Unfriendly: Stanhope & Tab - very very mildly touched upon. I love that Tab is everything Stanhope despises, and steals his daughter and son from him, more or less.

Why I chose that title

Most folks know Stay All Night, Stay a Little Longer as a song by Willie Nelson, but it was originally recorded in 1945 (released in 1946) by Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys. It's a swingy tune, and the chorus is so good for Blanche and Tab especially: Stay all night, stay a little longer Dance all night, dance a little longer Pull off your coat throw it in the corner Don't see why you don't stay a little longer

A fun fact about the fic

The fic was literally born because I had just started to talk to @reallylilyreally and we were joking about how weird it would be for Blanche to meet Tab, which is when I came up with the opening scene, and the whole fic kind of spiraled into what it is now. Will say I did NOT expect it to go the direction it did at first, and then I was just like, shrug, guess we're doing this!

[thelonecalzone]

The Unaired Two-Page Conversation

I think we're past the point of possible spoilers, so as promised: the 2pg book conversation that was cut for time (and realism). Originally, I was experimenting with "unsent" books as part of the conversations, but I thought it would ultimately be too confusing and opted not to use that, so anything you see with a strikethrough is an "unsent" book.

(If this text formatting is ultra zany and hard to read, someone please tell me and I'll make it more regular. Allison is Blue, Patty is Red... for reasons... 🫠)

Allison: It’s Lonely at the Center of the Earth, by Zoe Thorogood

Patty: Not Here, by Hieu Minh Nguyen

Allison: Tell Me Everything, by Minka Kelly

Patty: Daily Rituals, by Phoebe Garnsworthy

Patty: Drinking Coffee Elsewhere, ZZ Packer

Patty: Crime, by Irvine Welsh

Allison: Without Me? by Chelle Bliss

Allison: Exciting Times, by Naoise Dolan

Patty: Not Without You, by Harriet Evans

Patty: The Page Turner, by David Leavitt

Allison: I Got a Job and It Wasn’t That Bad, by Scott Dikkers

Patty: Really Moving On, by Pierre Jeanty

Patty: What Kind of Job Can a Monkey Do? by Sato Akira

Allison: Hey Rick! Don’t Be So Rude! by Alyssa Thompson

Patty: I Like Monkeys, by Peter Hansard

Allison: So You Like Me Too, by OPR

Patty: The Miseducation of Cameron Post, by Emily M. Danforth

Allison: Just Say Yes, by Niobia Bryant

Patty: Yes, Chef, by Marcus Samuelsson

Patty: Get to the Point, by Joel Schwartzberg

Allison: I Miss You, by Pat Thomas

Allison: Without You, by Saskia Sarginson

Allison: You’re, by Keisha Ervin

Allison: I Got My Dream Job and So Can You, by Pete Leibman 

Patty: Super Spy, by Matt Kindt

Allison: The Librarian Spy, by Madeline Martin

Patty: For the Love of Books, by Graham Tarrant

Allison: Reminds Me of You, by Retno Handini

Allison: For the Thrill of It, by Simon Baatz

Patty: Run Towards the Danger, by Sarah Polley

Allison: Risking it All, by Tessa Bailey

Patty: Risk (With Me), by Sue Wilder

Patty: Ambitious Girl, by Meena Harris

Allison: Yeah, Right, by Jim and Helen Fox

Patty: The Follow-Through Factor: Getting from Doubt to Done, by Gene C. Hayden

Allison: A Stroke of Dumb Luck, by Shiloh Walker

Patty: Credit Where Credit is Due, by Frank Casey

Allison: Optimists Die First, by Susin Neilsen

Patty: The Price of Immortality, by Peter Ward

Allison: Death Visits the Hair Salon, by Amy Anderson

Patty: Murder in the Library, by Katie Gayle

Allison: Sounds Like Fun, by Bryan Moriarty

Patty: I Have More Fun With You Than Anybody, by Lige Clark

Patty: Certifiably Insane, by Arthur W. Bahr

Allison: Charming as a Verb, by Ben Philippe

Patty: How Do You Manage? by John Nicholson

Allison: Liquor, by Poppy Z. Brite

Patty: Hardly Know Her, by Laura Lippman

Allison: Don’t Be Gross, by Barbara Bakos

Patty: It’s Just Anatomy! by Ellen

Allison: Rough Transition, by Patrick Kelley

Patty: Some Girls Like it Rough, by Marlo Peterson

Allison: What Sort of Girls Were They? by Petrea Leslie

Patty: Girls with Bright Futures, by Tracy Dobmeier

Allison: I’m a Little Ghost and I Like the Dark, by Lynda Kimmel

Patty: Dark As the Grave Wherein My Friend Is Laid, by Malcolm Lowrey

Allison: Murder in the Dark, by Simon R. Green

Patty: My Job Was To Bring The Shovel, by Randall M. Rueff

Allison: The Complete Accomplice, by Steve Aylett

Patty: The Magician’s Assistant, by Ann Patchett

Allison: The Witch’s Familiar, by Raven Grimassi

Patty: Witch Minion, by Lissa Kasey

Allison: These Witches Don’t Burn, by Isabel Sterling

Patty: The Drowning Kind, by Jennifer McMahon

Allison: A Touch Morbid, by Leah Clifford

Patty: Lucy Clark Will Not Apologize, by Margo Rabb

Allison: I Wonder What She’s Doing Tonight, by James Hold

Patty: Whiskey, Words, and a Shovel, by R. H. Sin

Allison: Sounds Perfect, by Ashley Boren

Patty: How I Made a Friend, Daniel Georges

Allison: Good For You (Between the Lines), by Tammara Webber

Patty: We’re Very Good Friends, by P.K. Hallinan

Allison: Sounds Fake, But Okay, by Sarah Costello

Patty: What If It’s True? by Charles Martin

Allison: What If It Wasn’t? by Ivan Itch

Patty: Why Do You Care? by Saju Skaria

Allison: I’m Fine and Neither Are You, by Camille Pagán

Allison: The Replacement Part, by Nora Wylde

Patty: Just a Friend, by Ashley Nicole

Allison: How to Kill Your Best Friend, by Lexie Elliott

Patty: You’re All Just Jealous of My Jetpack, by Tom Gauld

Allison: Dead Jealous, by Sharon Jones

Patty: You’ve Got to Have Friends, by Delbert George Fitzpenfield Anthony

Allison: Everything I Need I Get From You, by Kaitlyn Tiffany

Allison: Among Other Things, by Robert Long Foreman

Allison: Truths I Learned from Sam, ​​by Kristin Butcher

Patty: The Idiot King, by Patty Jansen

Allison: He Helped Me Climb the Mountain, by Betty E. Wright

Patty: The Man Who Pushed His Wife off a Cliff, by Will D. Burn

Patty: Men are Trash, by Salman Faris 

Patty: And That’s Why I Think I Prefer A Rainbow Horse, by Tiarra Nazario

Patty: Sam Houston’s Wife, by William Seale

Allison: What About Her, by Emma Tharpe

Patty: Amelia Bedelia Sleeps Over, by Herman Parish

Patty: The Undead in my Bed, by Katie McAlister

Allison: Sleeping with the Enemy, by Nancy Price

Allison: How Could You Do That?! by Laura Schlessinger

Allison: How Could You Murder Us? by Charae Lewis

Allison: Why Her? by Nicki Koziarz

Allison: I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me, by Jerold J. Kreisman

Patty: I Was Joking, Of Course, by Paul Jennings

Allison: Liar, by Tate James

Patty: What if I Say the Wrong Thing? by Verna A Myers

Allison: Don’t Look Back, by Josh Lanyon

Patty: Come Back, by Sally Crosiar

Patty: SHIT, by Shahnon Ahmad

Patty: Barbie: It Takes Two, by Grace Baranowski

Allison: I Changed My Mind, by Jimmy Evans

Allison: Allison Hewitt Is Trapped, by Madeleine Roux

Patty: Are You Still There, by Sara Lynn Schreeger

Patty: Wait for Me, by Caroline Leech

Allison: Look Back, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

[shoggothkisses]

Lore Rant: Lovecraft References

I don't really think this post is super important to Genshin lore as a whole, so please consider this list as some self-indulgent trivia that I've been itching to share.

For a little bit of context (in case anyone here hasn't heard of Lovecraft): H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937) was a New England author who created the "universe" his contemporaries refer to as the Cthulhu Mythos, and the "founder" of the weird fiction genre. A lover of cosmic and gothic horror, he was ultimately a racist, messed up, and yet deeply interesting little man. (My infodumps about him as a person will be contained to other venues.)

At least as far back as Inazuma, there have been easter-egg style references to his work hidden in text and achievements. Here are some of the ones I've found.

The Golden Wolflord / "Whisperer in Darkness" Achievement

The Whisperer in Darkness achievement can be obtained by completing the Golden Wolflord boss fight in co-op mode. The actual "Whisperer in Darkness" is a 1930 novella by Lovecraft, wherein a man in a tiny Vermont farmhouse is terrorized by extraterrestrial entities. The entities, however, have nothing to do with wolves (they're actually these flying pseudo-insectoid dragons from Pluto who can preserve the human consciousness in a jar. Which...might have more to do with Sumeru than the Rifthounds, now that I'm saying it.)

In mentioning the Golden Wolflord, it's worth bringing up a more overt Lovecraftian reference regarding Rifthounds in general - specifically their ability to pass in and out of Teyvat by "dissolving space." Frank Belknap Long expounded upon a concept Lovecraft began in his short story "The Hound" (1922) when he wrote "The Hounds of Tindalos" in 1929. The titular Hounds are dog-like creatures who live in the corners of space and can use any angular meeting between two points as an entrance into our world. They are also, much like Rifthounds, capable of draining the life out of their prey (although the Tindalos variety do this in a much...goopier way).

The Unsealed Parchment / "Call of the Nameless City"

The Unsealed Parchment item can be obtained in several different ways, including through the Aranara quest line, and triggers a mini-quest in and around Devantaka Mountain in Sumeru. Once you've triggered the third part of this quest, these words appear on the parchment:

But those eternal beings can never perish, Until death has become the end of death.

I remember reading this and finding it very familiar - and it became even more so when I found out somebody had translated the text on the actual quest item:

That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.

This is a oft-quoted couplet that Lovecraft first penned in his story "The Nameless City" (1921; also where the name of the quest achievement comes from) - a short piece where a man finds an ancient (still occupied) civilization of reptilian creatures under the Arabian desert - but is better known for its appearance in "The Call of Cthulhu" (1928). The couplet is attributed to the "mad Syrian poet" Abdul al-Hazred (nonsense name) in the Kitab al-Azif (or just "Al-Azif"), also known as the Necronomicon. Genshin's "nameless city" refers to Gurabad, which is also called a "city of brass;" Lovecraft makes references to a brass door that bars the way to where said reptilians reside.

The Sands of Al-Azif

This section of the Desert of Hadramaveth, as mentioned in the previous point, is a reference to Lovecraft's fictional "Al-Azif." Like the name of its author, "Al-Azif" means absolutely nothing in Arabic. However, Lovecraft alleges within his piece "History of the Necronomicon" that it refers to the "demonic" sounds insects make at night. Notably, this is the area of the desert where the Setekh Wenut dwells - even though worms are not technically insects. (Honestly, the jury is still out on whether the Wenut are supposed to be worms, fish, or serpents...oh well.) The "Al-Azif"'s author, Abdul al-Hazred, has likely inspired the numerous Sumeru academics who (like him) lose their minds while wandering through the desert, while the Necronomicon itself can be seen as an inspiration for the various pieces of "forbidden knowledge" that can be found in books and texts across Teyvat.

"The Greenery Out of Space" Achievement

This achievement that became available after Fontaine opened in 4.0, unlocked by defeating the Dendro Hypostasis in Co-Op mode. Lovecraft's story "The Colour Out of Space" (1927) deals with a Massachusetts family dealing with the consequences of a meteorite crash-landing on their farm. What begins as a boom in the size of their crops turns into a blight that takes the form of an unidentifiable "colour" the likes of which no human has ever seen; the color infects the plants and the water, eventually causing the family to mutate. The story was adapted into a movie starring Nic Cage in 2019, if it sounds like your sort of thing.

While this only barely has anything in common with the Dendro Hypostasis, Genshin lorecrafters have discussed how the color magenta has been consistently used to represent Forbidden Knowledge - a substance (or energy) known to be extraterrestrial in origin (Nibelung the Dragon King got it from...somewhere to be utilized in the war against the Primordial One). Magenta is often considered a color that "isn't real" - the tl;dr being that out brain combines the lowest and highest wavelengths in the visible light spectrum (red and purple) into a "new" color that doesn't actually exist on the spectrum of visible light. It isn't completely accurate to say it's not real, but you can see how it could be easily utilized by storytellers to represent something ~beyond human comprehension~. In fact, magenta is used to represent the horrifying "colour" in said Nicholas Cage movie.

These are some of the more overt references to Lovecraft that can be found in Genshin thus far. Since HYV apparently has a track record for name-dropping Lovecraftian stories and entities into their games, I have no doubt we'll be seeing more as time goes on. (Personally, I'd really love to get a King in Yellow reference while we're in Fontaine, considering He has ties to the theatre and France. But that's just me.)

If there are any I've missed, feel free to send an ask and I'll add it to the list!

[sinceileftyoublog]

Madi Diaz & Jack Van Cleaf Live Show Review: 3/6, Lincoln Hall, Chicago

Madi Diaz

BY JORDAN MAINZER

"I've got these purple shoes--they're very cool," Madi Diaz shared Wednesday night at Lincoln Hall as she tuned her guitar. Someone in the audience replied, "Tell us more!" Diaz didn't hear them, but the crowd member's response was apropos of Diaz's open-book nature as a songwriter and performer. Over her past two albums, 2021's History of a Feeling and last month's Weird Faith (Anti-), through her unflinching honesty, Diaz has created a solidarity of self-expression, anthems out of moments and feelings we might otherwise be ashamed of (loneliness, crying in public). She's put to song the peaks and valleys and beginnings and ends of relationships with others and herself, the non-linear nature of realizing that she loves, hates, feels a burning desire, and in turn deserves to feel it all. Turns out, a lot of other folks have had experiences similar to hers, making it easy for them to sing Diaz's words back to her and feel a palpable connection.

Diaz

Diaz walked out to Cass Elliot's "Make Your Own Kind of Music", a fitting sentiment to introduce a show in which she laid bare her vulnerability and created an atmosphere for others to do the same. Truth be told, she knows how to start a song, an album, and a set; "Same Risk" confronts a love interest about a level emotional playing field. "What the fuck do you want? Cause I'll give you all that I got," she sings on the Weird Faith and set opener, each subsequent line one-upping the prior in terms of frankness, culminating with the question, "Do you think this could ruin your life?" and the admission, "Cause I could see it ruining mine." Though the album version has the proper canyons of space to give room for Diaz's heavy confessions, the live version was comparatively stripped-down. On stage, Diaz played guitar and sang alongside multi-instrumentalist Adam Popick, who played drums and synthesizer, sometimes simultaneously. Though Diaz's lyrics are often diaristic, conversational, and clear, that they were less obscured by instrumentation as on the album made them all the more in-your-face. As such, a song like upbeat strummer "Everything Almost", wherein she wonders whether she's doing and saying the right things in a burgeoning relationship (and she's even doing the wondering out loud, in real time) is borderline like watching theater: At one moment, she cracks up at the thought of being a needy pregnant partner, and at the next, cowers at the idea that her parents might not be around to meet their grandchild.

Diaz

Diaz's unbridled outpouring can be jarring, but it's undoubtedly powerful. On Wednesday, huge-sounding songs like "For Months Now", "KFM", and "Resentment" transformed into intimate singalongs. "Hurting You", performed solo on acoustic guitar, became an even more hushed ode to picking yourself back up after a heartbreak, learning how to move on from grief. And though Kacey Musgraves didn't show up to duet "Don't Do Me Good", the crowd's belting of the all-timer country chorus was as stubborn as the song's protagonist herself.

If Diaz has grown as a songwriter over time and as she's penned for pop and country stars, it's clear that her time opening for the likes of Waxahatchee, Angel Olsen, and Harry Styles has allowed her to understand that, when performing, just because a space is big doesn't mean it always needs to be filled. The subject matter of her songs could be constantly cried out, but she belted only for maximum impact, contrasting the dulled tom thuds on "Get to Know Me", or holding a single note on "Crying in Public". For the most part, her vocal delivery was subtle, especially when she harmonized with Popick on "Girlfriend" and delved into fatalistic tricks on the unreleased "Worst Case Scenario", a song that tests her "theory of imagining the worst possible thing happening" so that it won't happen, or "expecting nothing and then being pleasantly surprised." At one point, on "Worst Case Scenario", she exclaimed, off-beat, "I'm gonna think of it!" over chugging drums and barn-burning riffs, recalling the tossed-off singing of Jason Molina.

Adam Popick and Diaz

Where Diaz finds ultimate peace is not in fatalism or nihilism but a sort of existentialism. She spends a lot of Weird Faith looking for meaning in giving your all to someone, and even weather patterns. But on "Kiss the Wall", she proclaims, "Nothin' is a waste of time," connecting the most boring moments when we're waiting in line for something to one's own legacy, perceiving that we all make tiny changes to earth. During her encore, Diaz said she didn't believe a mere two years ago that she could spend time on stage singing about such a raw period in her life. As she wrote Weird Faith "on the backs of mantras," she started to believe in herself. It's clear, now, that one of those mantras is that every moment carries weight. She ended the night performing the title track on acoustic guitar, visibly emotional as she left the stage. As the house lights went up, we were graced by none other than Limp Bizkit's cacophonous cover of George Michael's "Faith", a reminder that even the cruelest of jokes can be earnest expressions of the universe's necessary chaos.

Jack Van Cleaf

Opening was Nashville-via-Chicago songwriter Jack Van Cleaf, an acoustic guitar picker whose songs and performances, like Diaz's contain heart-to-heart chatter. Lines like, "Love is like a rattlesnake / Before it bites, it tries to warn ya," from "Rattlesnake" were perfect bedfellows to Diaz's "Same Risk". And perhaps it was a mix of Van Cleaf fans and Diaz fans attuned to storytelling, but I was wowed by the audience's reaction to his songs as much as the songs themselves. On the unreleased "Using You"--which employs drug metaphors to explore how people use each other for attention during a relationship--the audience reacted with every lyrical twist and turn, despite likely never before having heard the song. After performing it, Van Cleaf asked those taking videos to tag him on Instagram, not for clout, but so he could watch it and fine-tune the song. Yes, such symbiosis carried seamlessly into Diaz's set, but for Van Cleaf in a vacuum, it's easy to see how another unreleased song like "Piñata" came to be given his appetite for feedback. It wasn't just the words themselves but the way he delivered the line, "I'm full of sugar / I'm full of niceties / I'm full of shit," that hit harder than a candy bar after too many edibles. Next time Van Cleaf comes to Lincoln Hall, he might be the headliner making people cry.

Van Cleaf

Van Cleaf

Van Cleaf

[magpiesbones]

It does honestly impress me how EXACTLY and PRECISELY Emily Skrutskie constructs the most INCREDIBLE and Appealing premises only to do LITERALLY nothing with them. These books are SO empty!!

like okay. First book of hers I read, a fun little synopsis:

woman who works as a sea monster trainer to train massive genetically engineered Beasts to protect ships from pirate attacks falls in love with a pirate! INSANE right. Should be accompanied by an exploration of THE CREATION OF GENETICALLY ENGINEERED WEAPONS and probably also the ECONOMY LEADING TO PIRACY and not to mention the JUSTICE SYSTEM and what it means to have ALL THAT GODDAMN POWER but no. There’s nothing.

weird! Funky little book I’m sure I can just excise from my mind and never think about again—

BUT I CANT. BECAUSE HER PLOT POINTS ARE TOO DAMN INTERESTING. and oh big surprise but all the rest of her books have the EXACT same issues!!

hullmetal girls: two girls fall in love (I think?) in a military academy after being turned into weapons in a completely space-faring society. I believe one of them was a rich officer-track girl and the other was poor and in it for the family pension. But oh that’s so interesting! Will we be exploring THE MILITARY INDUSTRIAL SYSTEM? Themes of BODILY AUTONOMY? Themes of perhaps even GENDER relating to bodily autonomy or MEDICAL AUTONOMY or PHYSICAL DEVALUATION? How about a look into WHY THIS SOCIETY IS SO DAMN BIFURCATED? or perhaps WHY THERES A NEED FOR MILITARY AT ALL? We sure fucking won’t!

All of this is Backdrop you see! Because it sounds Cool. A little bit of spice, perhaps, for what is maybe the MOST milquetoast romance I have ever read wherein neither of the characters was even differentiable from any other. Nobody had an arc. Nobody had a theme or god forbid a thematic resolution. Things happened because they were cool and sounded neat.

I’ve read books with bad writing before but usually those books were at least passionate and TRYING. I’ve never read before or since a book that was so empty and devoid of any deeper meaning. Shallow in the MOST literal sense. And to be frank I WAS digging! These books are a backyard sandbox marked out like an archeological site.

[that-gay-jedi]

I'm not going to defend tiktok euphemisms but to be quite honest most of those supposedly better classic euphemisms used here as examples actually suck, and reveal our piss poor attitude toward mental suffering, disability, and death.

(Content notes: frank but non-graphic discussion of bereavement, suicidality, and death)

You can't assume a person who died by suicide "lost" their battle with mental illness. Even if they died young, it's entirely possible they carved out 10, 20, 30 more years than the illness wanted to give them. If you enter a battle wherein you're sure to die but you fulfilled your objective, was the engagement really a defeat?

It also discounts the circumstances wherein suicide may be the most rational and self-compassionate option. By the dictionary definition, enacting your own death is still suicide even if you have a terminal condition that's certain to cause you to die a far more painful death if you prolong it, yet we can't reasonably attribute these suicides to despair and mental ill-health.

When we say a person "took" their own life, from whom did they take it? When we say that a murderer took someone's life it's not a euphemism, they've literally taken life away from the victim. I would love to have sufficient belief that our culture is a conpasisonate one to pretend this is also what we mean when we say suicide is taking one's own life, but the reality is this phrase is used to imply they took their life from the world or from their loved ones- as if they owed it to US to stick around for a life of pain as opposed to owing their future to themselves.

Far too many people miss the cruelty in the attitude that suicide is a greater act of violence against the survivors than the dead. The grief of people who've lost loved ones to suicide is very real and I know it first-hand, but the loss of a person's life is also their own loss of all the time and experiences, including potential happiness, they will not have.

The suicide themselves matters, and it's damaging to suicide survivors (to be clear, that's people who attempted suicide and lived) and to people who grapple with suicidality when we devalue or disregard that to shield a portion of our own pain.

"Passed away" and similar wordings (dear departed etc) I'll be a little more forgiving with. It's one of the few indirect phrases I personally use to refer to death because it's at least true on an observational level- regardless of whether you believe in an afterlife, the dead person is GONE from this life, so expressing death in a way that suggests they've left where they were makes sense.

I will, however, object vehemently to extensions of "passed away" phrasing that suggest the dead person has only gone on an extended vacation for the obvious reason that lying to ourselves when we're old enough to comprehend death only stores up anguish for later.

I'll object more fervently still to any additions to "passed away" phrasing that imply heaven or some other favourable afterlife condition if the dead person themselves did not espouse a belief in such. Just because someone's dead doesn't mean you get to erase their atheism, their agnosticism, or their religion that doesn't share the same cosmology as yours.

An adult sounding like a child when they talk about death is only annoying. Far worse to sound presumptive, callous, or dismissive of the life the dead person lived.

the thing that really grinds my gears about the cheesy tiktok censorshop of "sewer slide" "real life game over" etc is that. like. we already have euphemisms for suicide and death. 'took his own life.' 'lost their battle with mental illness'. 'passed away.' even assuming the censorship/shadowban/algorithm hiding shit they think is happening really is happening, there's ways to get around it that don't make you sound like a kindergartener

[wanderingmind867]

I hear about events in comics after the early 80s, and I immediately realize that I apparently can't get into most things written after 1985 or so. This was around when DC had their crisis on infinite earths, which made a confusing comic company ten times more confusing. I've tried to write my own interpretations of that event, and that's the only time I can even understand what they might have been going for. Because why did they think a confusing apocalypse story would make anything clearer?

Meanwhile, Marvel was having their own issues around this time. The death of Captain Marvel (a character I didn't love, but whose death still makes me super angry), the scourge of the underworld saga wherein they killed off a bunch of fun 60s and 70s villains for being too "obscure" or "ill-conceived". It's a mess. And sure, there probably was some good stuff, but it gets harder to find each new decade. Also, Frank Miller for Daredevil is praised by some, but hearing about it just doesn't enthuse me. It doesn't sound as fun as it was in the 60s, for example. I could keep going like this if I keep looking up stories, but I'm sure no one wants that. But if you do, please tell me. I can try and get a sequel post going.

[kodzuken]

i think the season 5 finale is going to end with buck and eddie having a friendly little chat wherein buck says something like "i'm proud of you, man :)" and eddie's like "yeah..." and sort of looks off in that very eddie-esque way. and then the end music (starting over by chris stapleton) and final montage is gonna kick in and eddie will do the monologue about how sometimes starting over means going back to the beginning, but sometimes it means diving headfirst into something new, or admitting something you never thought you could. and then the very last thing we see is eddie sitting down in frank's office. frank says, "what's on your mind, eddie? it sounded important over the phone." and eddie says, "frank, i think i'm gay." boom cliffhanger cut to black roll credits i'll pick up my emmy on the way out

bro. bro. i’m serious rn if this happens i’ll actually fucking cry i’ll actually sob i’ll hop on the post episode ft and just be bawling my eyes out this is SO good

[ktheist]

(why) we got married | m

synopsis. they say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.

you’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. but is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?

muses. chairman!taehyung x stewardess!reader

alternative title. as you are.

inspired by. the 1 by taylor swift

genre. arranged marriage au with a pinch of drama and angst

words. 12.5k

warnings. explicit content

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

x

in your defense, neither you nor taehyung made an elaborated plan to deceive both his family and yours with the marriage which yes, had been founded upon a contract. but that’s not the point - the point is, your father and brother never sat down with taehyung and had a man-to-man talk. and his mother never sniffed out your reason for marrying her son being his abundance of wealth. but when all comes to light, thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend who made a slip of tongue - your parents and his were the ones most vindictive about who’s digging whose gold.

and to be completely frank, you were one article away from calling up your mother and telling her that you seduced taehyung into marrying you - just so she’d stop baring her fangs at mrs. kim. these days the headlines keep blowing up your mother and mrs. kim’s completely-by-chance meeting at a five star restaurant that erupted into manic yelling and pointing fingers.

“what did you say, you-” the audio bleeps for a split second before your mother in law’s voice comes back on, “-it was your daughter that seduced my son!”

“you crazy-” the audio bleeps again, “-you better watch your mouth or i’ll-”

the remaining seconds of the video are filled with bleeps that make it hard to even understand what either woman was saying. a wave of regret floods your chest as you scroll down the words strewn out into a juicy, tea-spilling commentary on your and taehyung’s past - the writer seems to pick up the minor little details that, in hindsight, leaves a big fat question mark out in the open.

when exactly did ___ ___ and kim taehyung start dating?

the answer was never.

the two times you and taehyung were photographed together was at a cafe near your office and the other, near his penthouse wherein you were discussing the terms of the contracts by yourselves. the one near taehyung’s penthouse being the final stage where you both signed it on your ipads. to the naked eye, you probably looked like you were on a date and being young professionals, it was only a given that both of you had some sort of electronic on you at all times - even during dates.

everyone just assumed you were together and with the assumption of being together, comes the conclusion that you were deeply, madly in love. was it the way the picture caught you two looking at each other with smiles on your faces? was it it’s sister picture that stilled you in a frame where you’re looking at your ipad and taehyung looking at you with the same - possibly remaining - smile from the moment the first picture was taken? that, you will never know.

but so it goes, you started going to socials together because taehyung needed some cleansing from his... charm-filled past. he used to go to those with different partners each week, and the previous woman that went with him always ended up refusing to talk about it or boasting about her ‘relationship’ with him. that was of course, after yoo now-kim jeongyeon got married three years ago. he used to attend those socials with her for the most part.

but someway, somehow, his public record was clean of any drama.

you would know, you’ve seen the man in action with your very eyes. on your 7th social event together, son chaeyoung had marched up to you and him like a ticking time bomb, red-faced and flaring nostrils and all. you were about ready to stand your ground when taehyung softly touched your hand that was around his arm and asked if you minded if he left for some fresh air.

of course you didn’t - respectfully, you couldn’t care less what taehyung does as long as it didn’t bring a negative light to you and him and the dynasties you both carried over your shoulders. everyone had their eyes wide open and ears perked for what was to come when taehyung walked chaeyoung out to the hallway. but nothing happened, and you were left to mingle on your own until he returned, looking devilishly handsome as always and strutted up to you with an air of refined sureness.

chaeyoung didn’t come back with him but everything remained quiet - not even a dramatic “stay away from my man!” at any point of your contract. you never asked how he did it - you thought it involved money, but over time, you realized it was just kim taehyung and all the things that made those women attracted to him. and just like a flame, he’d burned the moths’ wings until they couldn’t flutter over to him anymore after your wedding.

“uh, miss, we’re here,” the driver calls, meeting your eyes through the rear-view mirror.

it takes you a few moments to close the cover of your ipad and shove it into your handbag before pulling out bills that’s worth more than your car ride, “thanks, keep the change.”

and with that, you hop out of the cab, ready to put on a facade of grace and confidence. the staff who knows you greets you with a range of emotions, some with unhinged admiration from day one, others with curiosity on what’s truly hidden beneath those darken ray bans - without a doubt, aware of the drama going on between their boss’ mother and their boss’ wife’s mother.

either way, you make sure to return each smile and greeting like you always do. red lips sewn across your face like an ever smiling doll.

it’s only once you’ve entered the elevator and luckily left to your own devices, do you let your shoulder sag, the smile downturned into a frown all the way until a ding echoes into the small compartment and a red ‘8′ flashes on top of the doors.

you don’t fail to fix the secretaries a smile, relief flooding over you at how their warm - or was it profession-required - greeting hasn’t changed even after the rumors spreading about your inevitable divorce - of course, purported by you and taehyung’s mothers.

“son, if you don’t divorce that woman right away, i-i,” and here you see for yourself, the woman who called you ‘my daughter’ with the most loving voice, stuttering into a fit of rage, “i don’t think i can face my friends anymore - that bitch jihye has been slandering our family saying you used her daughter to get hold of the company!”

mina is about to knock on the door and announce your arrival when you hold a hand up before placing an index finger to your lips. she doesn’t need to be told twice when she nods once and steps back to leave you eavesdropping on your mother in law and husband.

“that’s fair,” there isn’t even a stuttered beat in his response.

“what-”

“that’s part of the reason we got married,” he goes on, “and ___ needs some help setting up her brother with some connection so it works out - and mom, please refer to ___ and mrs. jeon by their names, ___ is still my wife and mrs. jeon is the woman who raised her.”

“y-you-” mrs. kim stutters out in disbelief just when you decide to make your presence known, hand on the door, “you ungrateful child, oh my- oh my-!” you walk into the sight of the woman falling backwards with mr. ji the kims’ lawyer stretching his arms out to catch her, shouting “madam!” while taehyung launching himself across the room, “mom!”

mrs. kim ends up hospitalized.

“it was a case of stress and overworking that should go away with a good few days’ break,” chairman kim who also opts to assume his seat as part of the hospital’s doctor and a family friend of taehyung’s, fixes you with a reassuring smile.

the stethoscope and white robe gives off a more professional vibe than the sophisticated air you see him wear at family dinners.

“that’s a relief - it’s nothing life-threatening,” the smile you return doesn’t seem to sit right with him as his eyebrows knit together and a cloud seem to loom over his face.

“it’s really not in my place but,” he pauses, probably weighing out the pros and cons of offending you with what he’s about to say - but he doesn’t need to worry too much because after today, you probably won’t be seeing each other at dinners any time soon, “me and jeongyeon,” he means his wife and taehyung’s childhood friend, “are here for you if you need to talk - i know mrs. kim can be a little unreasonable at times, but give her some time. don’t give up on her.”

you nod once, murmuring a hollow ‘thanks for that, seokjin’ before watching the man strut down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps accompanying his leave. only when you’re left with the sound of your breathing, do you finally allow chairman kim’s words to sink into the deepest depth of your heart.

it’s not an easy task to keep your heart still and unbothered by your own mother in law’s words. even now, you can still hear her embellishing her headache, back ache, joint pains and every sort of non-fatal pains she has enough to get taehyung to stay by her bedside - so he doesn’t go home. doesn’t go back to the place where you two have built for yourselves.

and yet you can’t help but agree that - “if you’d divorced her just like i told you, i wouldn’t have fallen so ill!” she sighs, just as you’re about to slide the door open.

all of a sudden, the image of the delicate woman swaying and tumbling towards the ground flashes at the back of your head and you instantly recoil, as if the door was made from fire.

the fear of worsening mrs. kim’s health at the sight of you has you backing away, choosing to wait at the seat in the hallway instead. seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours until you feel your body being shaken.

your eyes which you never noticed fluttered close - snap open only to gaze at the face of an angel - a concerned one at that judging from the way his eyebrows knit together. and then you’re hearing the smooth baritone of his voice. you almost pulled out your phone from your purse to ask if you could have it recorded so you could listen to it as a lullaby.

that is, until you realize the angel’s disheveled wavy hair and eyes that look like they’re well on their way to falling asleep standing.

“taehyung,” the name slips out of your mouth with a surprised gasp as you note the pristine pastel background of the vip section, body jolting to sit up from your previously slumping position.

“have you been waiting all this time?” he takes a seat next to you - and only then do you notice the unkempt mess that he is.

the first few buttons of his shirt is undone whilst it hangs over his shoulders, untucked, tie hanging loose over his chest as he drapes his blazer over his arm. the sight is almost alien, especially coming from someone who can’t even stand a crease in his shirt.

“what time is it?” you wonder, reaching for your phone while he checks the rolex on his wrist - which proves to be faster than rummaging through your bag.

“seven-thirty - you’ve been waiting here for more than five hours,” and just your luck, right as the words hit the air, your stomach decides to remind you of the meal you’re about to miss if you stay here any longer.

the heat rushing to your cheeks a second later is immeasurably hot, “o-oh, okay.”

clearing your throat, you ask, “so how was mother? seokjin already told me but i wanted to hear it from you that she’s okay.”

“you know how mom is - keeps saying her head hurts from the fall even though mr. ji managed to catch her halfway,” in any other circumstances, you and him would have found humor in how your mother in law’s overembellished diagnosis to gain attention from you and taehyung - but this time, it’s only one of you she wants that from.

it doesn’t stop you from chuckling though, “it sounds just like her - maybe i should make some ginseng chicken soup to help her get better... or beef seaweed, you know, her...”

swallowing the lump in your throat is a feat - and unfortunately, you’ve failed terribly as taehyung gather you his arms.

only then, do you realize you’re sobbing like a child, emotions running wild as everything comes crashing in like a storm - his mother, your family, the whole fucking tabloids that’s being written and ready to be posted in the next few hours and the fact that the marriage may have been a fraud, but the bonds you made along the way had been more than just business. mrs. kim was a mother to you as much as yours is to taehyung. there may have not been any love between you two but you cherish his family like he cherishes yours.

“i’m sorry - for causing a- a scene - for causing mother to f-faint-” you weep and weep.

in your crying fit, you barely notice the way his arms tighten just the tiniest bit as he sways you left to right gently, one hand on the back of your head caressing your hair as he whispers something along the lines of “it’s not your fault” and “we’ll figure it out together.”

and so for the nth time in your one year of marriage, you’re banding together to capture mrs. kim’s heart again. the first time you visited her with taehyung, she narrowed her eyes at you and demanded taehyung explain as to why he didn’t come alone through the very same eyes next second.

when the man pretended not to notice and even placed a hand on your lower back just as your steps faltered in a ‘i’m with you’ kind of way, she opted to stare out the window while you unpack the broth you made onto the table. the portion you poured into the bowl you brought was getting colder by the minute as you spoke to her, “mother, i made beef seaweed soup, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

the only indication that she was listening was the way her eyes scanned the bowl of broth in front of her and proceeded to keep them on the window until you had to leave.

and so goes your second and third visits being received with shoulders made of ice a kind of silence that never fails to make your stomach churn with a sort of nervousness you should have felt when you meet your future husband’s parents for the first time. but the first time you met mrs. kim, your chest was filled with nothing short confidence and woo her you did along with taehyung’s relatives and closed friends. at the time, you didn’t think what you were doing - fooling everyone into believing that you’re marrying each other for love - would come biting you in the ass.

if karma existed then this probably you getting what you deserved.

on your fouth visit, you’d come alone because taehyung had an urgent meeting to attend. mrs. kim spared you a once over just like a rabbit who voluntarily and follishly hopped into the lion’s den.

“mother,” you offer her a smile, “how are you feeling?”

when silence is the only response you get, you quickly rummage through the paper bag you’d brought with you, “have you eaten? i made chicken soup-”

“don’t bother,” her voice cuts through the air like a blade. eyes as piercing as spears, “sit down, i know taehyung has an urgent meeting - it’s the only way to get him off my back.”

you’re not quite sure what she means but you have an inkling that the reason her hostility has yet to reach its pique is because taehyung has been giving her subtle looks to ‘mom, be nice to my wife’.

with a nod and a smile that seems to be glued to your face, you ask, “how was the bibimbap yesterday?”

though she didn’t cut you off, her response doesn’t exactly shed hope to your efforts being paid off when she dismissively says, “i gave it to mr. ji.”

the immediate ‘oh’ that tumbles out of your mouth is purely reflexive even though you know she’s never touched the meals you packed for her. but having her admit it is a different kind of heartbreak.

“i see,” is all you can say as you feel tears prick your waterline, a lump in your throat.

“this,” she places a folder of documents she seems to have ready by her bedside into your hands and without any explanation, sends you off with, “if you have any conscience at all, you’d sign these papers and stay out of our lives.  even though i never read the contract but i’m sure a smart woman such as yourself would’ve thought to include the alimony as well - you understand what i’m saying right?”

you tried to say something - anything but at that point, the look in her eye already paints a picture of you clinging onto taehyung’s wealth. and yet you still tried, “m-mother, i-...”

but no words come out and as though her point had been proven, she’d huffed out a sigh and tuned you out like she always did on your previous visits.

so you walked down the hallway with shades covering your tear stained eyes and a skip to your step that oh-so-badly wishes to break into an unceremonious run to a place where nobody knows you. where nobody looks at you with rounded eyes for the briefest moment that easily translates to mrs. kim ___, wife of kadore’s chairman who married her husband for money.

but all you can afford to do is keep your head up until you reached the bathroom door, check each stall one by one to make sure no one’s inside before you finally set down the document and your handbag on the sink. the first sob hits the air as soon as you see the woman in the reflection’s reddening eyes and smudged makeup.

it takes you several breath-holding, eyes-shutting and a couple more sobs breaking through the cracks of your walls before you can finally pat some powder onto the patch of skin under your eyes and on your cheeks where most of the damage was done. by the time you’re back in the hallway with shades darker than the night sky, you find your feet melting and becoming one with the floor at the sight of a man with jet black hair standing at the reception.

and almost as though sensing the heat of your gaze through your ray bans, the man turns around to reveal a pair of doe brown eyes and the smile you’re so used to seeing now missing in action and replaced with a straight line.

“jungkook...”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you start once you’ve both placed an order for your drinks at the counter.

“how long are you going to keep doing this?” instead of answering your question with a real answer, jungkook heaves out a sigh, eyebrows knitting together in vexation as he fixes you with one of those ‘i’m not telling mom and dad but this is our problem now’ kind of look.

“how ever long it takes,” is all you say, reverting your gaze to the smooth surface of the table.

“are those the divorce papers?” you refuse to look at him but you know he’s burning holes inside the beige colored folder sitting underneath your handbag on the seat between you and him.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, shoulders squared as you meet his eyes through your shades, “i haven’t opened it yet.”

but jungkook being jungkook, he takes that as a bare affirmation, choosing to interrogate you on a different topic, “have you seen what people have been saying about you?"

“i don’t really care about what people say,” is all you have to offer.

“you haven’t,” he nods in conclusion, “they’re saying you can’t have enough of your husband’s money... they’re saying you’re coming here everyday to grovel over his mother’s feet to let you stay married - that’s how i know you’d be here. and judging from the looks of it, they’re not too far off.”

it takes you a good solid minute to stomach the new found information. you haven’t been checking social media because of those same exact malicious comments but that was just the beginning of a downward spiral of your reputation - you never thought your efforts and hard work of burning your fingers on hot stoves and redoing dishes to get a perfect one would be met with an assumption of groveling over mrs. kim’s feet all for your husband’s money.

“god, i need a smoke,” jungkook huffs, receiving a look from the waiter that’s setting your drinks down. only after she’s gone does he present you with another set of questions. “was he the one that paid off dad’s debts? all of them? even the loan sharks?”

“that...” you nod once, failing to keep your head high as you twirl the straw of your frappe around but don’t even take a sip, “and the money i said i had saved up and lent you to start your company,” you quickly add,“- but taehyung doesn’t care about that - he wouldn’t accept it even if you wanted to pay him back twice the amount.”

“then why are you...” it’s the way his voice breaks at the end that makes you look up only to see a man whose eyes are a little sunken and cheeks a little hollow - almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping nor eating well because of his foolish sister, “why are you letting that woman trample all over you like this? wouldn’t it be easier to just get a divorce-”

“that woman is my mother in law, jungkook. at least, practice the same level of respect you’ve been preaching about,” you speak over him - it’s funny how taehyung once stood up against the same woman you’re standing up for, for you.

when all that follows is silence, you go on. this time, in a much demurred tone, “and it’s not about letting myself get trampled over... if mom found out you lied about something and she’s acting like mother does because she’s hurt, would you just go on with your life like nothing happened?”

it takes a moment for him to register what you said before taking on a much less hostile tone though still just as firm, “___, this is your life... i don’t know what kind of ‘happy family’ delusion you’ve been living in but i’m willing to bet all my money that it’s not taehyung that gave you those papers to sign and made you cry in the bathroom stall for thirty minutes-” he throws you look, “yeah, i saw you go into the washroom after coming out of her room. i was gonna call you but you looked like you had to take a huge dump so i waited but we know that’s not the case now.”

silence lapses between you for the umpteenth time before you stubbornly announce, “i could’ve been taking a dump - you don’t know.”

the sight of jungkook’s jaw dropping and hitting the ground is laughable, if not for the fact that he’s shaking his head five seconds later. vexed. irritated, “this is getting ridiculous - we’re going home. now.”

and he doesn’t mean the penthouse that you and taehyung shares.

shooting up, his hand grasps your wrist and he would have dragged you all the way to the car if you hadn’t protested.

“jungkook, no - i’m not going anywhere,” pulling your hand back, you stand a good one head shorter in front of your brother which doesn’t do much for your cause.

“___, if not for you then do it for mom and dad - they’re getting too old to be worrying about their one and only daughter’s marriage prospect,” he tries to coax, knowing full well your heart would wither like a flower at the mention of your parents worrisome nature - especially when your business is out in the open no matter how hard you try to hide it, “and you haven’t been answering their calls either.”

“i know, i just-” before you can even finish your sentence, a flash of garnet and bridal pink catches your eyes.

“____... jungkook, i didn’t think you’d be in korea. how are you?” taehyung’s warm baritone is laced with confusion as he stares at your brother and then at you for a sort of explanation but before you can even open your mouth, jungkook’s already has his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, “yeah, well someone’s gotta clean up the mess you started. ___’s coming back home with me - back to her real home.”

“i’m not - stop saying that and let me go,” you tug on your wrist only to wince at the pressure of his grasp, “jungkook, you’re hurting me!”

“hey, let my wife go,” taehyung takes a peaceful step forward, “we can talk ab-”

“oh no,” the laugh tumbling out of jungkook’s mouth drips with malice, “no, see, you lost your knight in shining armor privilege after you quite literally lied to our faces about how you’ll take care of my sister until ‘death do you apart’ when all it took was mommy dearest pretending to get sick while everyone labels my sister a gold-digging wh-”

you taking a step forward with a balled fist, is completely instinctive and you would say taehyung prancing towards the dark haired man with a fist that actually hits the mark, was also instinct-driven. except that he probably has better aim and his punches hurt more than yours ever would.

the first one, you admit was satisfying but when your brother ends up on the ground with your husband throwing blow after blow, you have no choice but to intervene.

“taehyung, stop!” the shriek that echoes against the walls almost burst your eardrums. you would have believed it to be mrs. kim if not for the fact that she’s nowhere in sight and you’re the one with your hands grasping onto your husband’s arms, trying to hold him back from sending blow after blow onto your brother’s half-conscious face.

“taehyung, don’t stop,” you frown, taking a seat next to him while swiping the ice bag off his lap before gently pressing it to his darkened jawline, “seokjin said to keep the ice on the bruise for at least an hour.”

“ahhh - ow - ow-!” the man whines, eyes screwed shut as his grits his teeth together but doesn’t recoil from your touch.

“maybe you should’ve thought twice about throwing a punch at a trained boxer,” you shake your head, lips curling into an inevitable smile.

after taehyung’s had a round of punches in, jungkook managed to flip them over so that he’s the one pinning the elder man down. the events that unfolded after that were the least bit pretty. the nurses and doctors attending nearby patients rushed to the two struggling men and then there’s you, shifting the shouting to your brother to “god damn it, jungkook! stop being a dick!”

it took five men - doctors and just-arrived guards alike - to pry your brother off your husband who still tried to get a punch in and was held back by seokjin who finally arrived at the scenes with half a mind to knock the both of them out as he calmly orders for jungkook to be dragged into one of those empty rooms akin to the one mrs. kim is staying at.

because taehyung was the one who started the fight, seokjin decided that an ice pack would do for the taller man whilst he treats jungkook and orders the other doctors to go back to their post.

picking up the mixture of garnet and bridal pink roses, he stares at their wilted petals for the longest moment, face painted with dejection. they must have been specifically ordered for mrs. kim-

“these are for you,” your train of thoughts halts in its track at taehyung’s words. his hand levitating midair as though unsure of whether to hand the bouquet to you or toss them away, “or were,” then he captures your gaze and you don’t think you can ever find your way out of the maze he’s able to hold you captive in with just his eyes, “you deserve fresh flowers specifically plucked from its stalk - you deserve a whole garden, actually-”

“taehyung,” your free hand covers his as if to say, “they’re lovely, thank you.” placing the ice pack down, you cup both hands around the flowers, bringing them to your nose, “and they smell wonderful - i love pink roses.”

“i know,” the tiniest smile peeks from his lips, “you told me that.”

“i did?” you blink, surprised.

“at our wedding reception, you got a little tipsy and started sobbing because the roses were blush pink and not bridal pink,” the sound of his chuckles drums in your ears like hymns just like it did a year ago.

back when you were decked in an elegant off shoulder white gown after changing out of your wedding dress. you’d stood in the sidelines while your families and friends danced to their hearts’ content to the sound of the music. white champagne in your hand, the background beginning to turn fuzzy and your thoughts began to get louder.

it didn’t help that the object of your frustrations was smack dab covering every inch of the vicinity from the gargantuan rose covered backdrop, to the tiny vases in every single table.

the sob hits the air like the first raindrop. you had to clasp your hand to your mouth as if you were about to cough to hide your mouth stretching into your crying mouth - you don’t know how to explain it but your lips tend to morph into an unshapely sight whenever you cry and covering it when you feel the waterworks coming has always been second nature. as for the tears - they were concealable because the lights were dim enough.

but then there was someone next to you - he just popped up out of nowhere really and because you were standing in the darkest corner, you couldn’t pick out any defining features besides his height but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that as his question fills your eardrums, “so, how does saying goodbye to the bachelorette life feels like?”

“it’s terrible,” you’d wept some more and he shifted on his feet slightly, as though noticing the tear in your voice but luckily for him, he didn’t even have to ask because you were spilling your innermost thoughts out loud, “they- they gave me blush pink and garnet roses- i want bridal pink and garnet roses.”

“oh,” distinctively rang in your ears among the sound of instruments and joyful laughter.

then comes another input, “i didn’t know they messed up your request,” and you didn’t know why he’d sounded like he was about to murder someone.

“yeah and,” you sniffle, “- and i didn’t wanna say anything because- because i don’t wanna be that bratty bride who picks on every little detail.”

that morning, you woke up to a box full of roses and they were the lightest shade of pink. taehyung was already awake and offered to ring up breakfast for the both of you after he’d bid you a good morning and a “something came in for you.”

the gifts were prearranged to be sent to the penthouse instead of your suite but then again, there were chocolates and champagne bottles that made past the hotel doors because of its edible nature - the roses too... their fleeting livelihood seemed like you’d enjoy them better in your hotel room than a week later after you’d come back from your honeymoon.

the card didn’t even leave initials but had ‘roses for a rose’ playfully written in cursive black ink. your heart blooms a garden but your head is what makes you search for your newly wed husband, only to see him looking at you with a tender smile - one that you thought manifested because of your own involuntary smile when you’d read the note.

“i don’t think these are for us,” you could feel the frown setting into your features, causing taehyung’s own brows to furrow.

“i think these are for... me,” and so you told a tale of a woman with ambitions rather than stars in her eyes, who felt a compulsion to at least tell the truth to her husband and the stranger whom she met at her wedding. of course, omitting the teary eyed part and the blush and bridal pink roses part.

taehyung had easily chuckled while the staff set down plates of delicacies on the round meant-for-two-people-on-a-honeymoon table, saying, “he has fine taste - they’re from halls & tara,” after the staff left.

it didn’t occur to you that the h&t initials on the top right corner of the card stood for the most well known florist in seoul until he’d pointed it out, which could only mean he’d been suspicious enough to take longer than a glance at the flowers.

“do you mind if i keep them? at least, until they’re not as fresh anymore.” you quickly added the last part.

“you can keep them in a vase and have them live longer... why? are they not the shade of pink you wanted?” he blinked once, hand halting midair as he was about to take a mouthful of pancakes.

“well- no, they’re perfect actually - i love them,” you almost stutter in your haste to explain while trying to be casual about how devastated you would be if- “it’s just that... i really didn’t know him or who he was- but he obviously knew me because it’s hard not to know the lady of the day- i’m not breaching any terms-”

it’s the way the trickles of laughter filling the otherwise silent room that got you to clamp your mouth shut. the way kim taehyung looked so ethereal and majestic in the pristine black and white setting of the room.

“i don’t mind,” he’d clarified a moment later, eyes twinkling with the remnants of laughter, “i understand why he’d want to desperately send you these if only to see you smile softly like you did - you look beautiful when you smile, by the way.”

the compliment had caught you off guard and your heart might or might not have somersaulted but if there’s anything seven years of becoming a stewardess has taught you, it was to always prepare an adequate response to every situation - and at that time, kim taehyung was infamous for his quick wits and reputation with the ladies. of course, words sweet as honey would come easy for him.

“thank you,” and so were the words of gratitude on your part as you schooled a smile and dug into the pancakes your husband made.

but sitting on the black leather couch, holding onto a similar colored bouquet, you can’t help but blurt out, “that was you? i was bawling my eyes out because of some mismanagement to my husband who didn’t even recognize?” something between a disbelieving scoff and an irony-induced laugh escapes your mouth, “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyung’s shoulder line shakes as he shrugs, hand going up to scratch the back of his head as he drops his gaze, as if searching for the answer only to look back up into your eyes with a, “i didn’t think you’d be as happy if you knew it was me,” his gaze falters, like a bud of fear blooming behind his irises,

“why wouldn’t i be?” you blink once, not quite understanding where he’s coming from.

that is, until a small smile slips onto his lips and it’s heartbreaking to witness and even more devastating to know you’re in no place to let your arms gather him into a hug like you wish. to kiss his forehead until his worries disappear.

he twines his fingers with yours, thumbing the diamond on your fourth finger, “i’m sorry that i took away your choice to marry for love - that’s a bit corny isn’t it?” he scrunches his nose and you can’t help but giggle, “it’s not just some short term contract since we both agreed divorce is never in the equation,” neither of you believe in tainting the sanctity of marriage - no matter what cause it was founded upon - with separation, “but god, the things you’re going through right now - i promise i’ll make things right.”

taehyung’s eyes tend to appear in different shades along with his emotions - though you know it’s most probably the lighting. dark brown is for when he’s scrutinizing the hollow smiles and empty compliments he gets at functions. but sometimes you find yourself catching hazel.

like right now, as they capture yours and look at you as if you’re the only one he sees.

“taehyung...” you thought you knew what you wanted to say when you said his name but as you get lost in the midnight dessert of his eyes, you’re not sure if you can even muster so much as a squeak without falling apart.

and that’s when a knock reverberates into the air like thunder, forcing you to jolt away from the man until no part of you is touching any part of him.

“hey,” a somber voice greets as jungkook leans against the doorframe, “so they fixed me up and the chairman wants me gone in,” he looks down at his wrist, “two minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

blinking away the remnants of the emotions away, you stand up, giving the man a once over. his button up is marred with a trickle of deep red a few inches over his chest, hair matted and face sporting different stages of bruising. the bleeding’s stopped for the most part.

“you’ve definitely seen better days,” you announce, walking around the couch to get to where the man is rolling his eyes at.

“sorry for calling you the w-word,” that’s definitely wasn’t what you were expecting which prompts the belated, almost suspicion induced,“...okay.”

“i did that because i needed to confirm something,” he goes on, eyes flitting over your shoulder where you know your husband is staring right back, burning holes inside your brother’s head before he looks back at you, taking a full 180 in attiude, “and don’t worry about mom and dad - i’ll take care of them.”

it takes you a moment to digest his proclamation, all the whilst hyperly aware of the hand that makes its way on your lower back as a familiar dior scent fills your senses, “so you’re not gonna drag me home?” as though disbelieving the words that came out of your mouth, you add, “that’s all it takes? a few punches to the face?”

the twitch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. nor does the deep breath he forces himself to take at the blatant insult and insinuation of your future boxing lessons to which he warns, “don’t get any crazy ideas,” then he turns to the man next to you, “i let you hit me - let’s get that out of the way first.”

and before either you or taehyung manage to get a word in, jungkook hand comes flying to your forehead, a loud sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the room as you tumble backwards with an audible “ow- hey!”, barely noticing the much larger hand that’s covering yours. inspecting the patch of skin where jungkook just flicked.

without even an apology for the uncalled for assault, he nods at something over your head, probably taehyung, “you take care of my sister, you hear me? cause there won’t be a second time.”

and then he’s gone like the wind - you would have tracked down that wind and give him a taste of his own medicine like you did when you were children. you’d jump on his back and attempt to bite a chunk of his head if your nannies didn’t pull you apart  - but right now, you couldn’t escape taehyung’s hand on your waist even if you wanted to.

“let me see,” he instructs, gently coaxing your hand to unclasp the patch of skin on your forehead so he could softly blow on it.

you stay like that, standing at the doorway with your bodies too close and taehyung refusing to unhand you until your cheeks are replaced with a different kind of heat than the anger you felt for your god forsaken brother.

“god he’s an ass - you should’ve messed up his face more,” you huff, and you don’t know why - maybe it’s the way you stomp your foot, maybe it’s the way your cheeks tend to puff when you’re feeling vindictive or maybe it’s a mystery locked in taehyung’s head that you’ll never know but his chuckles sound like hymns in your ears.

and you thought that was the end of the electrified sensation on your skin where his touch lingers until you feel a pair of the softest lips on your forehead, right where the flick was supposed to throb. a grinning taehyung looking back at you as if asking, “my nanny used to do this to me when i bump my knee against a furniture...” a flash of worry blooms in his eyes for the briefest moment before he voices his concerns, “hope the magic still works.

the sight is heartwarming. endearing even. and you can’t help smile, cheeks hot, “it does - it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

and just as you thought he’s about to release you from the torment of having your heart skip multiple beats at a time and step back, he presses another peck on your forehead. a smile gracing his features, “another one for good measure.”

it’s a surprise your legs are still holding you up with how jelly-like they’ve become.

“th-thank you.”

mrs. kim discharged herself a week after the fight but not without standing in front of the hospital with her frilly fur coat and gucci handbag while she looks at the camera and consequently straight into the screen, “i have yet received a publicly apology for what jeon jungkook did to mine by the jeons. my taehyung couldn’t even kill a fly, let alone start a fist fight-” she shivers uncontrollably as though overcome with chills, “such a barbaric, uncivilized act can only come from-”

“you’re watching that?” a smooth baritone fills the room as a figure struts in beige slacks and oversized creme sweater, “again?”

he sits on the edge the backrest of the couch, looking down at you with an expression that makes your stomach churn. with butterflies or guilt for breaking your promise to stop checking out these articles, you don’t know.

“sorry,” you mumble, placing the ipad down a few inches from your feet as you bring your legs up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, “worrying about how the press twists mother’s words comes from the plentiful of time i have on my hands after being sacked, i guess.”

it’s been a week since you’ve received your new schedule. to which you received a call right after to head to the headquarters in the heart of seoul only to be told that-

“___, you gotta understand, this whole fiasco going on with your family... it’s giving the airline a bad rep,” mr. bang leaned back against his recliner, his eyes hiding behind the beam of his glasses, “people are leaving bad reviews on the website that has absolutely nothing to do with our services but has everything to do with you and your husband.”

he meant the growing dissatisfaction upon the revelation of the artificiality of you and taehyung’s marriage.

nobody’s caught jungkook and taehyung in a video but there’d been witnesses and ‘sources’ affirming the two getting into a fistfight at the hospital. and so another record has been made in your long list of family drama.

“sir, please,” you could feel your eyebrows joining together from the sheer frustration and reality anchoring into the pit of your stomach, “i’ve been working for korean air -for seven years now- check my reconds,” hope blooms in your chest as you suggest the idea to your superior, “i’ve never been late, never had a customer complain about me, never made any mistakes prior to this-”

“it doesn’t matter what you did before this, ___,” he cut you off, voice heavy with emphasis.

but you weren’t backing out that easy, “please, it’s not fair to lay me off for something i have zero control in.”

at your wording, the man physically flinched, almost as though struck by a spear before he shook his head, denying your claims.

“you’re not fired,” he corrected, “you’re on paid leave... until everything calms down.”

it took everything in you not to let the frown slip onto your face. first it’s paid leave and then it a one month notice before they officially sack you - you’ve seen how this played out one too many times.

so you smiled, “with all due respect, mr. bang, how long is ‘until everything calms down’?”

the man’s shoulder line jolted as he shrugged, lower lip jutted out in a nonchalant nature, “that depends on how you choose to solve it, ___... i assume you are working on a solution, yes?”

it was a trick question. if you answered the affirmative, it’d be admitting what mrs. kim and almost everyone have been demanding - a divorce. if you answered no, then you’re as good as jobless.

“my husband and i are working on it,”  was all you say.

when taehyung found out later that night - he was livid. he was a phone call away from calling up mr. ji to sue the airline for discrimination. it took you stealing his phone away and running around the penthouse until you made him promise that he’d listen to you first.

he did, and you’d wanted to wait it out and see because, “there isn’t any damage to build our ground on anyway because i’m not fired yet.”

“well, dinner’s ready ” taehyung’s soft as silk voice tears you apart from your memroies, hand levitating midair until you take it, hoisting yourself up.

taehyung pushes himself off the couch, walking on the other side with your hand in his. it’s comical but endearing all at once and you giggle at how neither of you are willing to let the other go even though you’ll have to once you reach the four-people dining table.

“thank you,” you say as you lower yourself on the seat while he pushes the chair in for you.

home cooked meals have become a norm for the both of you ever since that day taehyung punched jungkook in the face. at first, you insisted that you should be the one cooking since he was injured but he stayed with you in the kitchen and you talked about your day and reminisced about your childhood and how you similarly had nannies that forbade you from coming into the kitchen.

then there was the peck on the top of your forehead he started doing a few days ago after you were sat and before he went around the table to get to his seat that’s across from you.

“did you go shopping today?” he asks in between cutting up the steak which he stole a whole plate from you into mini slices.

“yeah, with hwasa,” you nod - the woman had been all too delighted to see you after mismatched schedules and ghostly texts because of life and work getting in the way.

“the friend from high school?” taehyung surprises you yet again as he places your plate back in front of you, this time with the pieces all cut into edible bites. you’ve never mentioned hwasa to him - but it’s not a lie that she’s your closest friend from high school who got accepted into the same training programme as you at the beginning of your career.

“thank you-” you shoot him a smile before picking up the fork and knife, “and yeah, that’s her. we haven’t seen each other for months so we kind of went a little crazy with the dresses.”

he doesn’t look up when he speaks his next words which is why you have a trouble digesting them as you involuntarily blurt out a, “sorry- what?”

“the dresses you bought,” he reiterates, an amused smile on his lips - possibly because of your almost-choked state, “- can i see them?”

“oh,” clear your throat once, sipping down the red wine before chuckling nervously, “hwasa bought dresses - didn’t.”

taehyung hums, head tilting to the side as though trying to capture your avoidant gaze, “then put on whatever you bought that i saw lying on your bed - the door was open when i passed your room.”

at that moment, to say your heart quite literally crash against the floor, would be an understatement. it takes you a minute to gather yourself, another to force out a laugh as you attempt to brush the thought of taehyung seeing the black and red laces from savage x fenty hwasa adamantly insited you get after a story time on why you decided to get married to how something has definitely shifted between you and taehyung.

but no amount of gushing and squealing about made up scenarios brewing from hwasa’s little head could prepare you for what’s happening right at this moment.

“oh those?” a chuckle, “those are aren’t even worth showing.”

and just as you thought he’ll let the matter go like he would when you dismissively mention something that he inquired about, taehyung takes a full 180, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you don’t dare delve into, “that’s for me to decide,” he takes a sip of the wine, pushing his chair back as he stands up, “i’m done,” with that, he places his plate down where geom, your mixed breen papillion and silky terrier shouts out an appreciative woof at the pleasant surprise.

patting the canine briefly, he turns to you, those clouded eyes seeping into your soul, “put them on - i’ll be waiting in my room.”

his footsteps echo against the walls as he ascends the stairs and disappears into the hallway where his room lies across from yours. it is a whole solid minute later, once you hear the door of his room click shut, that you make a beeline for the couch where your phone lies lonely.

dialing up the only person you know you can hold accountable for, you quite literally scream at the ‘hell-’ with a “hwasa, he wants me to put the lingerie on and show him!”

while your voice drips with dread, the other woman, choosing to be willfully oblivious, screams into your ears, “oh my god - oh my god. then what are you doing calling me?! go put them on!”

and that’s how you end up holding in a breath while deliberately repeating hwasa’s not so helpful pep talk of ‘you’re the hottest’ and ‘kim taehyung will be wrapped around your fingers by the end of the night!’

“but it’s been over a year - i’m not sure if i even know how to moan!” you’d protested while pull the strap of the garter around your thigh.

that was half an hour ago.

now, you’re debating on whether to knock like you would have before you started cuddling into the other while watching tv. but before that, you’d never did anything together unless it was family dinners and gatherings.

so you opt for pushing down the handle. the sharp ‘click’ being the only announcement of your entrance. taehyung’s walls are a deep shade of maroon almost black with the lights on its lowest setting. the sound of music playing in the background barely registers in your mind as you focus your attention to the figure that’s pushing himself up from his laying down position.

you resist the temptation to run and hide under the comfort your covers - an opposed response compared to your confident stride, placing one foot after the other until you stand a good two feet away from the bed and taehyung.

“what do you think?” the smile brandished over your face is nothing like your racing heart whlist you do a little twirl- but then again, you’ve always been such an actress.

“if the world were made of diamonds, i’d choose the rose before me... because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on,” you wonder how he doesn’t even blink as those words pour out of his mouth, hand finding its way in the dip of your waist. staring. admiring.

“always the charmer,” you want to curse yourself for the unoriginal come back yet taehyung doesn’t seem to notice as he lets you push him to the bed whilst his eyes undress what little piece of clothing you have on as you crawl on top of him.

your toes curl at the sound of taehyung’s excruciatingly slow exhalation - almost as though he intends for it to caress your ears and seep into your pores before settling into the pit of your core.

the sharp charm of dior fills your senses as you place kisses on his neck, tucking his flesh between your teeth ever so gently, not expecting the delectable surprise that slips out of his mouth.

who would have thought kim taehyung was a moaner?

the giggle that trickles out of your mouth is blamelessly involuntary but catches his attention nonetheless, “what?”

“oh, nothing,” you nibble on his earlobe before whispering into his ears, “just thinking of how cute you’ll look moaning for me.”

and you’ve easily add to the long list of things you won’t forgive yourself in the morning. yet you still caress his growing size through his pants, giggling when the delicious sound hits the air for the second time.

“take it out,” he whimpers after one too many teases, “please.”

“only because you said please,” the way his chin tilts to follow your lips after you pecked them doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you clasp your hand against his chest, pinning him down with a shake of your head “uh-uh, you get up when i tell you to.”

the excruciating ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips is what truly lights up the flame in the pit of your stomach. you watch as his hand goes up to run through his hair in a sexually frustrated nature but doesn’t attempt to push himself up after that.

it only takes a few pumps for the clear fluid of precum to trickle over your hand, letting you smear all over his hardened dick and causing it to glisten underneath the luminescence of the room.

sparks shoot through your core and strike your heart into an erratic rhythm when you lower yourself over him, holding the slit of the black lace undergarment apart until he’s hitting every delicious inch inside of you.

you’ve barely even started to move when you break out into a cry, falling into his arms like a puppet whose strings got cut off. the arms around you are gentle as they hold you against him until you’ve come down from your high.

by the time you push yourself up, your knees are still trembling yet you nod when he cups your cheeks and forces you to look into those concern filled eyes, “are you good?”

“i’m fine,” the sniffle is probably the last thing you need to convince him, “i lost myself for a moment.”

this time, it’s his turn to chuckle, lips curling into a smirk, “it’s completely understandable to admit that you couldn’t hold out for more than a minute because i stretched you out so good.”

you want to protest - want to gain back the control you lost when he hit that sweet spot not even, yes, as he says, a minute into taking him in. but one single thrust right against that same exact spot and you’re whimpering in utter submission and devotion.

“that’s what i thought,” that damned smirk is the last thing you see before you succumb to his every wishes and command until you find yourself with a strong arm banded over your stomach, another arm reaching for a pillow and puffing it up before you feel yourself being gently lowered face flushed into it - the smallest gesture of tenderness that you didn’t expect to witness when you decided to tease him in the beginning.

the yelp when taehyung’s hands slip under the strap of the garter, doesn’t even manage to form fully when a moan replaces it as he yanks the garter and consequently, your ass against him, forcing you to swallow his entire length in one stroke.

“god, you’re so big,” if you were a little sober and a whole lot more conscious, you would have added that into the list of things you said that you would cringe at in the morning.

but you’re already one orgasm down in the foreseeable long list of orgasms that kim taehyung promises you as he sinks into you, moaning out your name like a holy mantra.

“i know you love it,” he agrees oh so innocently for someone who’s about to thrust into you like a godless being.

five strokes in and you’re cursing and screaming out in pleasure, hands gripping onto the duvet for dear life as you feel you convulse into a state of toe-curling euphoria. the way taehyung stops moving and trails down butterfly kisses down your back until the tensed muscles in your lower abdomen simmers down into pleasured twitches, doesn’t go by you.

“you can move now,” another sniffle, but this one has completely and irrevocably succumbed to your rawest desires.

it’s the soft chuckle and the one last peck on your left shoulder blade that has your heart stuttering. ungodly opposite to the way he moves his hips as he thrusts into you without so much as a warning - your last two orgasms were just preambles. ones out of the many that night that has you writhing and moaning in pleasure. some of which were incited by sides of you, you didn’t know existed.

the last thing you recall is taehyung gathering you in his arms like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even in his sleep now that he’s had a taste. it’s endearing and daunting all at once. because for the first time since your marriage, you’re afraid of losing him.

a few days after that, you’re tying away on your macbook when taehyung comes home looking less like the man you knew. his hair, disheveled from having run his hand through them more than his hair gel allows. his eyes, carrying a sort of weight that latches onto him like parasites - or maybe that’s just the papparazzo that you noticed have been following you around. their numbers have decreased considerably after the rumor of taehyung hiring a team of lawyers which was no rumor at all.

it was the morning after you woke up with tingly legs barely able to function like it should and muscles sore but a sort of fullness in your chest when you noticed the man whose arms are wraped around you like a protective cocoon as he faintly snored away.

then came the muted sound of your phone from the other side of the hallway where your room door beckons you into its domain. it wasn’t as obnoxiously loud since it was at least twenty feet away and you would have ignored it and gone back to bed if not for the short interval signaling the person calling had finally reached the mailbox or hung up on their own. that was, before they hit call for the second time.

slipping out of taehyung’s arms, you trudged to your room with half a mind to give whoever this caller is a piece of your mind - god’s sake, the flashy red digits on your alarm clock stares at you at 5:23 in the morning.

“this better be good, hwasa or i swear-” before you can even finish the woman is already screaming into your ear like she’s being chased by an axe murderer.

“oh my god, oh my god - have you seen the news?!” except no woman chased by a murderer would sound this exhilarated, she went on before you could even get a “no one in their right mind would be checking the news at ass crack-” out.

“oh shoot, it’s still 5 something in korea, isn’t it?” she gasped - if you weren’t on paid leave, you’d be in hong kong, probably sharing rooms and getting tipsy in some club there, “but anyway, kadore’s chairman is suing insight, pullbbang and other websites for slander!” she shrieked.

"what?” you could feel the muscles on your face pulling into a contorted confusion but

after hanging up and telling hwasa you were going to look into the matter some more, you’d come up with multiple articles stating a similar fact as your overly enthusiastic best friend did. still in denial, you’d confronted your husband about it- he was still sleeping soundly when you strutted in and shook him up to which he confessed, eyes droopy and face puffy. the sight was so foreign to you because you were used to seeing him fresh and suited up but you’d found yourself making a little space in your heart for barely-just-woken-up-taehyung to reside in.

first came anger - you didn’t ask for him to do this, “what would everyone think if i went to you crying about a little bit of criticism for something i did do?” then came confusion because what exactly did you do that was so horrendously heineous to warrant these websites to write such malicious statements about you?

taehyung had seen every flash of emotions that pooled in your eyes and tugged on your fingers - you weren’t sure if he’d meant it but it successfully pulled you from drowning in your own thoughts, “i told you i’d make things right - these people won’t be able to say another word about you unless it’s the truth- that you’re a hardworking, amazing woman who deserves everything she has and yes,” he fixed you the most tender, sleepy smile “that includes the money i make - what’s the point of working if i can’t even provide my wife with the best?”

taehyung tosses the beige tuxedo onto the handrest of the couch adjacent to where you’re sitting with one leg up in nothing but a loose fitted sweater that hangs off your left shoulder. the half empty wine glass lies untouched on the coffee table since you’d put it down.

with a thump, he sinks himself into the leather material of the couch, hands cupping his face, as though if he rubs it hard enough, the deadset frown would go away.

before you know it, you’re padding over to the couch he’s on, hands finding their ways onto his shoulders, massaging the noticeable tension in his muscles until a grateful sigh slips out of his mouth, hand guiding your own to his lips where he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

only when you go around to take the spot next to him, hand smoothing out his hair, do you finally say, “is it the board again?”

mina has been keeping you updated on the turbulence that was caused by your fraudulent marriage being exposed. the chairman seat became taehyung by default when he got married as per his father’s will. but the board members have been vocal about abrogating his rights to succeeding kadore.

“there’s talk about votes demoting me to director,” he’s never sound so fragile - in taehyung’s long list of fluctuating interest from women and men to art and sculptures and to yatches and sports cars, kadore is probably the only thing he’s ever taken seriously.

you would know - seeing him decked in armani with soft wavy hair contrasting his strong features, weren’t your only reason for accepting his proposal of marriage. it had more to do with the way he spoke about the company. in a dimly lit room just like now, with a wine glass in his hand and the cityscape underneath that gave an illusion of stilled fireflies scattered all across the city, taehyung had spoken of his unforgivable regrets. the deals he’d let pass by. the merges he’d settled with instead of aiming higher. the brands he didn’t reach out to.

those regrets birthed fears and those fears were what made him even entertain the notion of a beneficial marriage.

or as the board likes to call it, an atrociously wickedly schemed marriage.

“they won’t have a ground to depose you to a director’s position if they can’t provide a solid reason,” you say and he blinks, clueless, hopeless.

it’s almost as if you’re facing a whole different man.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about us doing what we do best,” you fix him a smile - one that probably needs a little convincing and grounding but a smile nonetheless, “we show them that the kims aren’t to be messed with,” you pause, letting the silence settle into brimming suspense before finally saying, “it’s been awhile since we’ve made a public appearance together, hasn’t it? how does lunch sound like?”

and so goes your multiple appearances in the most top notch restaurant together. the lack of chauffeur wasn’t intentional but helpful nonetheless to prove that the chairman was hopeless and irrevocably mad for his wife that he’d drive all the way to wherever she was to pick her up and then drive them to the designated restaurant instead of the convenience of meeting at said restaurant from wherever you both were prior to that.

then there was the hand holding, hip grabbing and not going a minute without smiling and giggling about what the other said. to outsiders, it would have looked as if things hadn’t been all that different - except you’d finally came out of your 1 billion doller cave after the whole ‘fiasco’ with your families. but it was the little hand kisses and forehead pecks in between taehyung making mini runs to get to your side to open your car door.

and the ‘how was your day’s and which are followed by a ‘you’re still deadset on working, huh?’s each time you told him about your in-the-work resume since you’re ‘at the risk of getting a notice of resignation any time soon’.

“what if you started your own business? i could buy a whole building in nonhyeon-dong that you could make as your headquarters?” he offers in between twirling the pasta around his fork after you insisted that- “my job is the only thing that i’ve got going on for me to prove that i’m not a gold-digger that everyone thinks i am.”

“i was thinking more like travelling from place to place like...” you shoot him a ‘you know’ smile before adding, “a cabin crew.”

“one of korean air’s biggest shareholders are letting go of her stock because her color pencil business isn’t doing so well these days,” he nods, deeply contemplative, “they’re gonna be sacking a few employees if they don’t get buyers by the next two months,” he surmises with a concluding nod to which you end up laughing and almost choking on your food.

picking up the water on your right, you quickly gulp it down before clarifying as to why you found his statement so funny that you’d risk your esophagus in the process, “no, tae,” that nickname is also one of the little things that just happens - you don’t miss the tuck in the corners of his lips when it slips off your tongue, “it’s sweet of you to want to buy me a share of the airline i’m working for but that’s the thing, it’s your money,” you reach out for his hand, smiling when he meets yours halfway.

a warm pressure engulfs your hand as he squeezes briefly, “and i told you, what’s mine is yours.”

“likewise,” you fix him a grateful smile, “but i like flying. i like being a cabin crew - on top of holding onto my job to prove people wrong, of course.”

the longest pause hovers over you like a grey clouds with taehyung’s beautiful but contemplating eyes holding you captive. as though trying to take you out part by part, trying to figure you out.

“then, what would you like me to do?” the question catches you off guard, like being hit by a wild baseball even though you’re walking right next to a baseball field, “you’ve always been so good at taking care of yourself - when you broke down in front of me... at the hospital... i didn’t know what to do-” his lips quiver just the slightest bit, almost as though holding back invisible tears, “tell me what to do. because it feels like everything i do isn’t the slightest bit helpful. ”

all of a sudden, the sands of time seem to have stopped, levitating midair within the dip of the hourglass. it’s daunting but heartbreaking at the same time - the sight of raw fear and uncertainty that’s pooling within taehyung’d eyes like unmoving river - you never knew your attempts to hold up your values reflects as a declaration of nonessential to taehyung’s own attempts to reach out to you.

“i don’t need you - to fight my battles, to solve my problems for me - though i’m immensely grateful that you did,” you say after what feels like an eternity, “but i want you so... stay as you are, supporting me like you’re doing now.”

“i don’t know if that counts as support - i’m not doing anything,” he counters, eyes downcasted until you reach out your other hand to cover his that’s already holding your left hand.

“you are - you never invalidated my feelings of wanting to work, you encouraged me to do bigger things and that means you believe in me - maybe i will take up that offer in the future but right now, i want to keep doing what i always have been,” you fix him a smile, “and i want to do it with you by my side.”

the tiniest of smile that slips onto his face tells you that his heart is still in a state of unrest. unconvinced. but he’s trying as he nods, “if that’s what you want,” and you thought that’s the end of it. until the foreshadowing “but,” that comes a second later, “i’m not gonna stop worrying and trying to fix things - we’re married, your problems are my problems too.”

the chuckle escapes your mouth signifies the good natured jest of your next words as you summon your hands back, already missing the warmth of his much larger ones around you, “well we weren’t exactly on that term until just recently.”

a shadow casts itself over taehyung’s handsome face as he picks up his fork, “that’s something i’ll regret for the rest of my life - not getting to know you beyond the contract sooner.”

“everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug before taking a peek at his expression as you mention a certain free spirited woman, “besides, you were too caught up with jeongyeon on our first year of marriage.”

she had been one of the few people who’d managed to bring out a side of taehyung you never knew existed.

boyish. bratty. someone who actually bicker and whines about the littlest things and everything that was on the opposite spectrum the crisp, suit-wearing, slicked back hair, charming man you married. sometimes, when you go out to dinners or the little moments when you find yourselves alone while attending functions, you see glimpses of that playful, boyish side of him. the human side of him.

over time, you realize that that’s also part of what makes taehyung... well, taehyung. it’s just only recently that you start seeing more than glimpses of these sides behind closed doors.

the way his eyes widen is enough for you to know that you’ve hit the nail right on its head. if the incomprehensible stuttering isn’t, “that... i was... we didn’t-”

“i know,” you fix him a jesting smile, “you may be a certified charmer for the most part but you’re not a homewrecker, tae.”

lunch goes on with you talking about how your father and brother are thrilled to have you and taehyung over for your monthly dinner. to which the man was partly confused and partly shivered in his seat at the thought of sitting down at a table with two of your favorite men in the world no doubt shooting him daggers while you’re not watching - or pretend that you don’t notice.

“i can’t avoid father forever,” he laments, finally giving into his fate as you walk out the restaurant, “and i have a lot of owning up to do to your family.”

“as do i,” you hum in agreement once before murmuring a ‘thank you’ as he holds the car door open after tipping the valet.

it’s only five minutes into the ride, once the car rolls to a stop at a red light does he turn to you, “you know, you don’t have to... with mom, reconciliation is a two way thing and she...” you notice the way his grip tightens around the wheel, eyes darkening as he breathes in, grounding himself “- she even made you file for divorce.”

the papers she’d given you that day still lied in your drawer, hidden away from taehyung’s pyromaniac hands. you’d caught him almost setting them on fire when you he found it lying on the counter after he’d returned home. all because spent a good chunk of the afternoon staring at it before leaving it to take a hot bath, not realizing taehyung would be home any time soon. ever since then, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with mrs. kim. turned down offers for dinners and luncheons, as he had directly told her in front of you through a phone call, “...not until you apologize to ___ first.”

“tae, mother was hurt by our lies and i understand why, i can’t promise i’ll be as accepting if i found out the daughter-in-law i cherished so much didn’t marry my son for love like i thought they did,” you lightly pat his hand that’s on the gear but instead he captures your fingers between his and guide them to his lips as he traps you within those beautiful eyes.

“you’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” there they are again, hazel underneath the light. but clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

but before you can even muster a word, his eyes are already focused on the road as the car propels itself forward. but he doesn’t let go of your hand. he keeps it twined with his between yours and the gear. almost as if he didn’t want to be apart from you if he could help it. and neither could did you as you rub tiny motions into the back of his hand.

in your defense, you’ve stolen a precious gem from her that no money or gold could ever replace. and no matter how much you cherish the bond that formed after hours spent on shopping, tea times and mother-daughter (in-law) vacations, you’re not kind enough to unwrap him from your little fingers.

a smile curls on your lips as you guide taehyung’s hand to yours, placing a kiss on his knuckles and watching as his own lips tuck at the corners.

you’ll just have to make it up to mother some other way.

x

note. if you enjoy this then please leave a comment either below or in my inbox! and check out the other members’ installments to the series filed under ‘verse’ on top!

[butterbabyflapjack]

god i've been sleeping on this for so long. I found the beginning of this fic in my drafts tho and thought I'd post it - WARNING for violence, sexually explicit content, and non-con. (also this is a rough draft so don't judge me too hard teehee ♡)

The Entity only dragged you here a month ago, and already you’ll never be the same. No matter how many times you taste death, you still fear it, and no matter how many times these killers chase you, you still fear them.

Wherein Joey becomes obsessed with you, but Frank can't leave Joey alone with his toys–especially when that unfortunate toy is as fun to play with as you.

It’s so cold.

Even with your jeans, your light coat, you’re not dressed for this. Frigid air still biting at what little skin you have revealed, just as fear nips icy fangs across at your heart.

Everyone is gone. 

Everyone but you. 

And some nasty, crawling feeling inside your gut screamed that things were wrapping up just like Joey wanted them to.

Because you’d seen him. Earlier, when everyone else was still around. You’d seen him, watching you try and fail to fix a generator. Nearly jumped out of your skin in stumbling back from how his darkened silhouette suddenly appeared, just outside the broken window of the dilapidated shack in which you worked. Falling backward on the cold wood floor as your pulse jolted in fear that he would chase you, and instead the fucker just… 

He just watched you.

Standing there. Silent amidst the flurries. His mask an icy phantom beneath the low cowl of his hood, while the wind howled coldly round him, so at odds with the heat of his shrouded gaze, with how it felt to trail across your skin, your shape...

He merely stood there watching you. Perusing you, it felt. Before, as moments passed, slipping off without a word into the chill of the trees; a skull-faced apparition. His visage stolen by the gloom of the surrounding cold. Each bootfall as silent and soft and steady as the hush of snow that blanketed this horrid realm you’d been dragged to only a month ago.

He hadn’t seemed in a hurry.

Even when he saw you repairing that gen.

Why didn’t he stop you? Hurt you? Chase you? In any way slow you down?

You’d refused to give it much thought then, having more than enough to worry about. But now that you’re alone…

Now it feels more threatening. More uncertain. More strange. Like it was purposeful. Like he was planning something.

You need to get the fuck out of here.

Your eyes strain through the cold, snowdrift crackling beneath your feet.

Your only hope of escaping this frigid hellscape is to somehow find the hatch. Where is it? It has to be around here–please be around here–you’ve checked everywhere else.

All at once, your footfalls pause as you think you hear the hatch's telltale hum. Ears craning for that wanted, familiar sound.

...There!

There–!

Like a smoking chasm, a wound to the world itself, you spot it spewing smog far in distance before you; lungs seizing as you start to run.

You hear too late those muted steps behind you.

Steel slices wind as it slashes through you, so swift you barely feel it; pain creeping its way across your senses only after you’ve cried out in shock, only after red heat spills down between your fleeing shoulder blades, soaking through your coat. 

You stumble, your next step slipping on ice. Barely catching yourself on bruising knees and palms as you attempt to crawl away, to crawl forward, to pick yourself up again and run–not looking back because you know what’s there to find you.

Joey kicks you in the ribs before you can even get one foot solidly on the frozen ground, and with a grunt you topple over yourself, rolling onto your side.

He's on you in what feels like an instant, though his measured steps are slow. One large hand wrapped around the custom grip of his karambit, painted red with you, while his other dark-gloved hand toys with the chain-led padlock dangled at his hip, metal clinking against the worn fabric of his jeans. 

His eyes are barely seen within the sockets of his skeletal balaclava, and yet you know he watches you like a famished wolf might a fat and wounded doe.

“You’re new,” he says. His voice is rough, scraping up his throat, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, the first time you’ve heard him make any sound at all beyond his grunts and winded groans while chasing you. But you’d always gotten away, those few times you’d ever seen him. Ever faced him. Fled him. Had always slipped from out his stretching fingers.

Always until now.

You twist your desperate gaze back toward the hatch spewing smoke far in the distance in front of you, only for Joey to kick you hard in the ribs again, tutting above how you whimper in pain, a moan dying in your throat.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he says, as your terrified gaze draws up to him once more.

Something in him shudders; his gaze a dark sheen, bright as black flame.

“That’s right…”

Boots twisting on snow, he roots himself atop you, one leg on either side of your hips. And as you struggle on instinct to get away, to scramble out breathlessly from under him, he roughly pins your stomach to the ground beneath one heavy, snow-worn combat boot; grinding his heel harshly into the small of your wounded back.

“Where are you going?” he lightly wonders, something fevered beneath his breath. Thrumming to himself, a contented jackal, as you struggle beneath his boot whilst failing to crawl out from beneath the deadlock of his weight. 

Outside your vision, you sense the lean muscle of him shift. Sense his eyes perhaps trailing after yours, out toward that opened hatch spewing smoke in the distance.

“Oh,” he hums, as though to hum were a form of laughter. His interest returning slowly to you, your hopelessness. “I see… You still think there’s a chance you’re getting out of this, don’t you…?”

With the sound of his exhaled smirk, he lowers himself down to one knee atop you. The ground seeming to bend beneath his weight as his knee replaces his boot, pressing into you, between your wounded shoulder blades, and you cry out as you’re reminded how deep he’s cut you.

He snares you by the nape, long fingers nearly wrapping fully round the back of your throat.

“That’s so cute it hurts.”

Without warning, he rips your head skyward, then slams it down into the snow-encrusted ground.

Your whole world rattles, pain bitten through gritting teeth. And, gripping to your scruff, he yanks your reeling head back up again.

His words warm your scratched and aching cheek as he lowers his masked face beside yours. “Are you going to behave for me now?”

You don’t want to respond. Don’t want to somehow satisfy him. But in truth, it's more fear instead of pride that keeps you silent. You don’t want to cry, either, but hot tears still seep through your trembling, cinched-shut lashes as you try to turn your face through the frozen dirt away from him.

The leash of his fingers in your hair tightens. “Is silence a ‘no’? It certainly sounds like one.”

His hand shifts toward your mouth, muting you, gripping your face as he twists your gaze back to his. And like a snake in search of something warm to sink its fangs in, his knife curls round the delicate front of your throat, tearing an anxious sob from you.

“Are you going to play nice?” he asks.

Tears shake your vision, reducing you swiftly to wordless, tightened trembles as the back of his gloved fingers stroke your face, up and down your temple, your cheek. “Answer the question.”

You swallow back the bile that threatens to overwhelm you. Your gaze flickering out toward the outline of the darkened hatch upon the snow far before you once more, trembling with want, before you eventually force your eyes back to the watchful hunting of his.  

His eyes alone make you struggle to swallow. They rob you of something.

“I… Y-Yes,” you eventually stammer out in fear, half hearted–not knowing what else to say that might possibly help you.

A smirk lights his deep, scratchy voice; his gaze alight with it. As, politely, he asks, “Yes what?”

You bite your lips closed so hard you fear they’ll bleed. Half welcoming the knife, if only to end this torment, before fearfully forcing out, “I…I-I’ll…”

Every word’s a weakened leaf, and Joey chuckles when you can’t continue; a cruel and languid rumble from the storm of his throat. 

He shoves the side of your face down into the grass and dirt; stems and stones intending your skin, branding to it.

“You’re going to take my cock,” he growls, to your abject horror. Gruffly reaching round your waist to seize the front of your pants. Jerking the button free, guiding the zipper down sharp. “And you’re gonna take it like a good little girl, aren’t you?”

Tears shake your vision, and his knife pets your face when you don’t respond.

“Say it,” he purrs; knife tracing. “All of it…”

Even thinking the words makes you nauseous. And you exhale an averted, frightened huff in your reluctance from responding. 

His karambit’s blade curving up around your cheek, scraping softly, reminds you that he’s in charge. Not to try anything stupid.

“I’ll… I’ll t-take your…” Gods, maybe you’d rather die, but you’re afraid of how painful he might make it. 

The tip of his knife presses harder against your frightened cheek, drawing lazy circles, indenting skin; not quite harsh enough to cut you, though its flirtation creeps ever closer. And, fuck, you want to live, even if there’s just a small chance of it. At the very least, if you do what he wants, he might make your ending quick instead of drawing it excruciatingly out.

“I’ll… take your c-cock like a-a… like a goo-d little girl…”

He seems mildy amused by your anxious platitude, like he could take it just as easily as he could go without.

“There you go…” he simpers; a subtle smile hidden in his low, graveled tone. His blade still stroking across your cheek with its silky, iron touch. “See how easy it is to play along? Now, just relax… You’re going to like this part…”

WIP w e d n e s d a y

Thanks for the tag @gaeadene! 💖💕 I've got something filthy cooking~

ʜᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ (ᴊᴏᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ꜰʀᴀɴᴋ)

Frank and Joey play with their food.

tagging: @athanasius-symposium-of-writings @shintin @l0sercat @vaya-mernda @guilty-pleasure-writings @languidcryptid @chromeedwardian @flaggermuser @possumteeths @brimbrimbrimbrim @apraxvalith @whimsyvixen

[theromanticrationalist]

“I was obsessed with the idea that when you use the Voice, you should be channeling an ancient voice inside yourself. I loved the idea you would be channeling very ancient, powerful grandmothers. Maybe it says a lot about my own family background, but I thought it was something that was a very powerful and fresh idea. I think it is pretty meaningful.” | Villeneuve on Vanity Fair.

I was intrigued by Villeneuve’s intentional decision to make the Voice, and subsequently Paul’s power of the Kwisatz Haderach, a feminine and maternal voice. May seem obvious considering he wields the Bene Gesserit power, an all female order, but for Villeneuve it clearly goes so much deeper. To have the ancient power stem from an intimate connection with the maternal spirit seems to me a very romantic idea. In so many ways Villeneuve has wrapped Dune in an allegorical romance. Consider The Green Knight that also came out this year. (Another film I absolutely adored.) It is a chivalric romance, dealing with different themes than Dune, of course, but there is intersectionality. Dune utilizes the hero’s journey in its narrative, and the hero’s journey stems from Arthurian myth.

The Green Knight (2021) Dir. David Lowery. Also, two soulful, sad-eyed pretty boys with dark wavy locks compelled on a profound spiritual/fantastical journey. Hmm. Kinda also sounds like another certain someone. Frodo Baggins.

The Maternal plays a considerable role in The Green Knight, as Gawain’s mother is literally the one instigating her son’s test and journey. Sound familiar? The Bene Gesserit and Lady Jessica, each instigating “The Plan” for “The One” - “The path has been laid…”

Another example would be George MacDonald’s fairytale romance, Phantastes - wherein the ‘Old Woman of the Cottage’ plays a significant role for the young hero Anodos, who finds comforts and pains, strength and sorrows in her house. She also guides his path from “behind the scenes.”

Phantastes (1858). George MacDonald

To me this all expresses a deeper idea of the Maternal in the Divine, “feminine” characteristics such as compassion & abiding love. Paul Atreides finds comfort, strength, and is guided by this kind of gentle spirit within him even if his path is a difficult and painful one.

“As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.” | Isaiah 66:13.

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.” | Psalm 131:2

Reminds me of the words from T.S Eliot’s poem “Little Gidding”:

“The only hope, or else despair

Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre-

To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.

Love is the unfamiliar Name

Behind the hands that wove

The intolerable shirt of flame

Which human power cannot remove.

We only live, only suspire

Consumed by either fire or fire.”

This, to me, cements further the idea that Villeneuve is creating a sacred pilgrimage for Paul to walk, and that at the heart of his story lies a compassionate spirit of grace. Villeneuve loves Paul deeply. His story is profoundly personal to him. You can feel this in every frame of the film.

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear…” | 1 John 4:18

In conclusion, this is something every Frank Herbert Dune fan must consider when analyzing the film. Villeneuve is no where near deconstructing the Myth, he’s revving full throttle into it. ☕️ No toppled gods here…

[sinceileftyoublog]

SPRINTS Interview: Personal to the Bone

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The first great album of the year came out five days into it, belying the post-New Year haze and bitter cold, walloping us into paying attention. Letter to Self, the debut LP from Dublin post-punk quartet SPRINTS, out via City Slang, is a tremendously assured collection of songs that the band describes as "to-the-bone" personal. They're led by singer-songwriter Karla Chubb, whose taut shouts, full-throated yells, and pained but deliberate lyrics match the utter tenseness of the compositions. She sings about her life, and topics ranging from depression and ADHD to sexuality and Catholicism, but without the overt autobiography that can plague even the most well-intentioned writers. Her singing sonically traverses the sinews of Colm O'Reilly's lead guitar riffs and bassist Sam McCann and drummer Jack Callan's brawny rhythm section. Each song is its own journey, and when they end, it feels like you've been holding your breath the whole time.

Though SPRINTS showed promise with their early material, they sound like a complete band with their debut. Working with Gilla Band's Daniel Fox in the studio helped them embrace the charged intensity that makes their live shows so thrilling. Letter to Self begins with "Ticking", the song that's been at the start of their live setlists, on which foreboding guitar, a double-tapped snare, and Chubb's chants build to a false explosion before the full beat truly drops. (Moments like this make it clear that the majority of the band are horror and sci-fi fans, but not necessarily obsessed with jump scares.) "Heavy" builds up similarly, with twangy guitar squalls and trilling drum fills, as Chubb asks pointed questions like, "Do you ever feel like the room is heavy?" before melismatic belting, lamenting that she's "watching the world go round the window beside me." Elsewhere, they combine the frankness of Fontaines D.C. with the cascades of Midwest emo ("Shaking Their Hands") and delve into swirling soundscapes ("Can't Get Enough of It"). As for Chubb, she knows when to scream; at her most full-throated, like on "Shadow Of A Doubt", she's a dead ringer for Courtney Love.

As much as SPRINTS' instrumentation purveys the spirit of their songs, Chubb is a deft lyricist, writing clever rhymes and cutting barbs alike. On "Cathedral", she chides the heartlessness of the Irish Catholic church when it comes to their views on queer folks like her: "He's singing from a hymn sheet, I'm singing for the others / They say I've gone cold while I'm sat drowning in the gutter." "Adore Adore Adore" bemoans the sexist double standards of the music industry, wherein anybody but a straight cisgender male is subject to only love or hate. "Am I everything you wish you had?" Chubb asks, "Or am I everything you detest?" Perhaps best is the album's closer, the title track, where Chubb honors her own ability to conquer trauma, generational and otherwise. "I can shake the leaves of hereditary," she sings, pronouncing the final word "he-re-di-tree" in a cheeky bit of wordplay, continuing, "I don't have to take the path that was carved out in front of me." On Letter to Self, Chubb and SPRINTS in general toss off a world of fear and shame in favor of self-love and acceptance.

SPRINTS plays Schubas on Tuesday night. Back in January, I spoke with Callan about Letter to Self, playing live, horror, and film scores. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity, and know the Irish band is excited to be in Chicago mere days after our raucous St. Patrick's Day celebration.

Since I Left You: One of the things I love about Letter to Self is that the instrumentation and the song structures engage the themes just as much as the lyrics do. Can you talk about creating a mood between words and instruments?

Jack Callan: That boils down to the songwriting process. It usually starts with Karla. It could be one riff on guitar or start with lyrics or melody. A lot of the time, and especially with the two opening tracks on the album, "Ticking" and "Heavy", from the get-go, we talked about building a literal feeling of anxiety. That's probably the case for most of the songs. We're trying to match the emotions of the music. The intensity of the song dictates the dynamics. It's quite natural: We all know each other so well.

SILY: As the drummer, specifically, you're at the forefront of toying with our expectations, especially on a song like "Ticking". You think it's going to explode into a rousing moment, but it pulls back. It eventually explodes, but there's a push-pull throughout.

JC: Yeah, absolutely, particularly with "Ticking". It's probably one of the oldest songs written on the album. We probably wrote it at the same time as the songs on our second EP. It didn't really sit well with those [songs], but we always knew we were going to come back to it. When we started properly planning for [Letter to Self], we knew it was going to be the opening track because it has such a slow build. You think it's going to kick in, but it doesn't. Live, we start sets with that, and it sets the tone nicely and builds the anxiety.

SILY: One of the most powerful things about Karla's lyrics is that she asks questions. "Do you ever feel like the room is heavy?" You don't know who she's talking to, but as a listener, it almost feels like she's talking to you. How do you feel about that confrontation when playing live?

JC: I think it's incredibly effective. The way Karla writes is very personal and vulnerable, but in a way it's not so specific you know exactly the circumstance what she's talking about.

SILY: The album title Letter to Self reminds me of a diary. It's a cliché album descriptor when writers say that a personal album is "like reading someone's diary," but this one truly is. If I were to pick up somebody's diary without knowing them, it wouldn't make total sense. I might be able to relate to vague feelings, but I wouldn't know the specifics they refer to. Do you think the record achieves an ideal level of abstraction?

JC: Absolutely. A lot of it was about dealing with those emotions or experiences. Since we've started out as a band, Karla's become more comfortable being vulnerable and open in her songwriting. Our first EP had some personal things, and our second EP was about the self and everyday life, but this is more to-the-bone personal. I think that felt very natural to Karla. There's an honesty to it. She's writing about her own experiences and how she feels about them.

SILY: How is playing the songs live from an emotional standpoint? Do you find yourselves in a similar headspace to when you recorded them, or do you let loose?

JC: I think the recording process, especially for Karla, was more taxing emotionally. Before recording, we rehearsed songs a bunch, and we messed around with demos for a while, but because the lyrics are so personal, putting down the tracks in the studio, that's when it hits you that the songs are going to go out into the world and everyone will listen to them. When you're in the studio, and there's no live audience, just us and Daniel Fox, our producer, it just feels a lot closer. By the time you get to the live set, the music isn't just ours anymore. People will interpret it any way they want. The live shows take on a life of their own, as well. It's more about the band at that point. The live shows have a lot of energy, a lot of fun. On stage, we've never really taken ourselves too seriously. We have a bit of a laugh, even when the subject matter is heavy.

SILY: Have the live versions instrumentally or structurally taken on a new life? Do you extend things or change things up at all?

JC: A little bit. Not as much with some of the album tracks yet, because we haven't been playing them as long. It's usually something that happens naturally. Some of the songs from the EPs we play differently. "Literary Mind" was recorded again for the album. It's is way faster than the original recording. We recorded it and started playing it live. How it is on the album is closer to how it is live.

SILY: Do you have a favorite of the Letter to Self songs to play live?

JC: Probably "Cathedral". The start of that song is a bit scary, but the chorus is proper all-out headbanging. We've played it a little bit live, but not for that long.

SILY: I can imagine that's a cathartic song for you to play live. You're just pounding along.

JC: Yeah. Loud and fast.

SILY: What's the story of the cover art?

JC: It was a still taken from the music video for "Adore, Adore, Adore". During the video, there's a scene where Karla has been abducted and wrapped up in gauze. If you look closely, you may notice the thick eyebrows and mustache: I'm one of the abductors. There's a plastic bowl with water in it her head was being dunked into. The photo was taken from underneath.

SILY: Something not everyone would realize just listening to the album is how much all of you--except for Sam--love horror films and sci-fi.

JC: It was definitely a big inspiration for the videos in particular. It was thematically linked to the "Adore, Adore, Adore" video, but also just a bit creepy and weird.

SILY: Over the past 10 years or so, there's been a resurgence of artful horror films that aren't just genre pieces, that deal with a lot of the same themes on this record. They use an aesthetic to explore themes that might be traditionally explored in different genres. Do you have some favorite contemporary horror films?

JC: I'm definitely a big fan of Hereditary and Midsommar. They were a reference point, slightly thematically, and aesthetically as well. Slightly creepy but not slasher horror. Stuff that's unsettling. Especially with the music. It's not jump scares, just that slight feeling of, "I don't feel right about this."

SILY: Have you ever thought about trying film scoring?

JC: I would absolutely love that. I saw the original Suspiria not that long ago that Goblin did the score to. It's super weird. The film's amazing, but the score is incredible as well. When I saw it, I thought, "I could totally see us doing something like this." It would be a lot of fun.

SILY: I know Letter to Self just came out, but are you the type of band constantly coming up with new songs? Or do you have to sit down and dedicate time to it?

JC: There's constantly new stuff knocking around. There are already demos for what could be album 2. Even from [Letter to Self], there are plenty of demos that couldn't make it in the end. You do eventually need to find time to sit down all together and work on stuff. It's increasingly difficult as we're on the road so much, but we need to block in weeks throughout the year so we have time to do it.

SILY: Is there anything you've been listening to, watching, or reading lately that's caught your attention?

JC: I just finished Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood. The last book I read was Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, which came out 20-30 years before Dracula. It's similar, with vampires, but there's a lesbian love element to it. It's really good, only 150 pages. A lot of people reckon Bram Stoker stole a lot of his ideas for Dracula from it. There's a lot of what we now think of as vampire lore in it from what we [attribute to] Bram Stoker. There's a castle in vague Eastern Europe [in Carmilla], so he definitely lifted some ideas from it.

I went to see Spy Kids in the cinema last week. That was a lot of fun. I don't know why they were showing it, but it was a favorite of mine as a kid. I'm going to see Poor Things tomorrow.

[mychemicalficrecs]

What are your all time fav fics?

I admit I put off answering this because there are so many. I think it's useful to sort these by ship :'D

First of all, everything on this list. And then check out these:

Fav Fics

Frank/Ray

oh baby here comes the sound by Trojie, 6k, Explicit. It's not a skill thing - Ray can jam around on a bouncy, aggressive riff if he wants to and Frank can tune down and chug if the mood takes him, sure - it's just that, when they're noodling around on their own, the melodies that sit in their chests like heartbeats are night and day.

Frank/Gerard

In the Music of Time by greedy_dancer, 13k, Explicit. It’s Frank’s last day off before the North American leg of the World Contamination Tour begins, so he’s not particularly happy when his nap is interrupted by a frantic phone call from Gerard. Gee’s clearly upset about something, but the urgent instructions he gives Frank as he rushes back to their hotel room are not making much sense. And why does Gerard keep asking Frank if he’s alone?

sing it for the n00bs by jedusaur, 17k, Explicit. Gerard would be killing twice as many dracs right now if his fucking spacebar would quit sticking. (Gamer AU, wherein the Danger Days universe is an MMORPG.)

Let The Darkness Lead You Home by rivers_bend, 49k, Explicit. Vampires are in charge and most of the humans on earth are prey, so Frank Iero's parents have him train as a cyber tech to protect him. Leaving the family he's born into may have saved his life, but his parents never could have expected the lengths he'd go to in order to find a new family to call home.

Camp it Up by rivers_bend, 4k, Teen. The one where Frank doesn't want to go to music camp, Gerard's an art counselor, and teenage libidos find marshmallows pornographic.

Public Enemy by tabulaxrasa, 21k, Explicit. In 1932, Gerard Way has been making a name for himself robbing banks up and down New Jersey. Frank Iero, analyst for J. Edgar Hoover's Division of Investigation, is determined to catch him.

Ass-Kickin' Chick Music by ladyfoxxx, 21k, Explicit. She's not someone's girlfriend. She's not anyone's anything. She's a fucking force. Gee doesn't know if she wants to be her or fuck her.

Hold This Heart and Tie It Tight by dapatty, samanthahirr, 5k, Teen. Frank hasn't been tied up in months, and it's driving him crazy. So he attends a meeting of the local rope-bondage interest group, hoping to meet someone to play with or at least get a quick fix. Lucky for him, the group organizer knows exactly what Frank needs--and how to give it to him.

Faint of Heart by pikasafire, 14k, Teen. Ridiculous pathology!AU. In autopsy, it is not a matter of life and death, it's a matter of DEATH AND LOVE! Frank Iero, the new registrar in the mortuary at Mercy hospital, was not expecting autopsy to be sexy, but he also wasn't expecting his hot new boss, Gerard Way. Featuring Cobra Funerals, sap, death by papercuts and LIFE THREATENING SITUATIONS (that don't necessarily involve corpses).

Your Heart The Only Place That I Call Home by dear_monday, 30k, Explicit. When Frank and his crew of morally ambiguous ethernauts (pirates, as Imperial law would have it, but that's such an ugly word) fetch up on the doorstep of the fabled Sanctuary, they aren't expecting to find much - least of all a long-lost brother, a garden in a box and the key to an ancient riddle.

and me here on the ground by frequentlybees, 32k, Explicit. Frank's worked hard to build a life for himself in the city of Jersey, where dragons swoop and dive over the river, and every day is divided by the ringing of the city bells. He knows the streets of the city like he knows the the tattoos on the backs of his hands, and he's content with what he has: a job as a bike courier, friends who love to give him shit, and a crush on a professor of art history at the local university. But he's also got a secret—one he's been running from for a long time. But all it takes is one delivery to a mysterious, quite-probably-magical bookshop to show Frank that there are some things you can’t outrun. Especially since he’s finally found a place that he doesn’t want to leave.

Filled to the Brim by onceuponamoon, 7k, Explicit. This, whatever this is between them, has been a long time coming. Frank and Gerard, a gravitational pull with laws of physics and everything guiding them toward one another and apart only long enough to build the momentum for slamming them back together again.

Frank/Mikey

Won't Know 'til You Begin by knight_tracer, Sena, 24k, Explicit. In which Frank is an accidental pervert, Mikey sleeps with Fabio, Gerard is much too sincere when talking about pain sluts, Ray is terrible with women and great with guitars, and Otter's got really bad taste in music. Alternately, the one where Frank realizes he has a thing for Mikey, Mikey realizes he has a thing for guys, and they're both adorably stupid failboats.

On Air by ladyfoxxx, 15k, Teen. Frank's a radio DJ at an alternative station, spinning punk tracks and talking shit. When he gets handed the most popular show at the station to host, his first guests are independent horror filmmakers Gerard and Mikey Way.

Mikey's Box by pyrchance, 8k, Explicit. Frank accidentally opens Mikey's suitcase instead of his own. Now it's just a matter of convincing Mikey to make use of the treasure he found inside.

Ray/Gerard

front wheel, fuel-injected, and stepping out over the line by Trojie, 5k, Teen. In which Gerard and Ray fail to get their shit together, with a full supporting cast (of exasperated Frank Iero and longsuffering Andy Hurley.)

Ray/Mikey

Release the Bats by Sena, 10k, Mature. Sure, Mikey's a vampire, but Ray's okay with that. He's still Mikey, after all, still Ray's friend, still dorky and sweet and funny and amazing and, yeah. Maybe Ray likes him as more than just a friend.

Gerard/Mikey

Untitled by oliviacirce, 943 words, Teen. The problem, Gerard thinks morosely, as he watches Mikey pick out chords on his bass, is that he read The Mists of Avalon at an impressionable age. Fucking Marion Zimmer Bradley should come with a warning label.

like it was yesterday by akamine_chan, 869 words, Mature. Gerard expects things to feel different. He's not sure why, but after all they've been through recently, it just seems like it should be awkward and weird between them.

Blood...It's Everything by gala_apples, 3k, Explicit. Mikey gets turned into a vampire. Surprisingly little changes.

Beyond the Dark Horizon by turps, 24k, Mature. Knowing the authorities would never allow them to be together, Gerard and Mikey took the only option left to them and ran. They've spent years travelling between planets with only minimal supplies and two space bikes to their name, all the while knowing that if they get caught they'll be shipped back to Earth and separated for ever. It's a risk that's working well for them, until the day Mikey gets hit by a shot from a blaster. With his brother dangerously ill, Gerard has never felt so helpless and alone. Afraid, sure he's doing the wrong thing but unable to think of an alternative, Gerard leaves Mikey and sets off to find Toro, a legendary medic operating out of zone eight. It's a journey that not only provides a way to save Mikey's life, but one that allows Gerard to discover that, no matter what he thinks, sometimes people do understand, and that home is the place that you make it.

until the end, until this blood by MistressKat, 21k, Explicit. "The long-term outcomes of this group depend on the age of onset, the length of the initial SOC (sensory overload coma) and, most importantly, on how quickly a successful bond can be formed. Across the eighteen studies reviewed, the cohorts on average demonstrated a 95% survival rate if guide bond was established within first four weeks, declining to less than 50% at six months and steadily thereafter. Reflecting the circumstances, the subsequent sentinel-guide pairs are likely to be atypical, and often require an extended period of adjustment. The policy implications are significant. The authors recommend a full scale audit of the current screening processes, to increase the likelihood of early detection. Further research into the experiences of late onset sentinels and their bonded guides should focus on identifying the best practice in sanctuary support." - Finch, H., Keele, A., & Warner, E. (2017). A Systematic Review on Late Onset Sentinels: Risk Factors, Protective Factors and Outcomes. International Journal of Sentinel Studies, 39(2): 773-804.

Frank/Gerard/Mikey

Holy Wine by Sena, 18k, Explicit. It's the dirtiest thing he's ever done, being in love with his brother, wanting Mikey and watching and waiting, taking what little he can get.

Frank/Ray/Gerard/Mikey

Early Spring in Jersey by lovebashed, 2k, General. Gerard, Mikey, Frank and Ray spend early spring days in their second home in New Jersey.

A Cure For Writer's Block by cybercandy, 5k, Explicit. They’ve hit a wall, there’s no point denying it, and to be honest Mikey’s surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. It’s been going so well, songs and words slotting into place like puzzle pieces, the new album appearing in front of their eyes and ears bit by bit. Until it all ground to a really fucking spectacular halt.

we are not afraid (and we are not ashamed) by Trojie, 27k, Explicit. An ordinary skirmish in the desert with dracs leads to Frank taking the brunt of a new weapon - and ends with him pregnant, furious, and freaking out. When the shit hits the fan and he gets kidnapped and taken back for interrogation by Korse, and forced to listen to the contents of the Traffic Report, something in him snaps. This fucking dystopia has gone on too long.

Mikey/Pete

New Message by jedusaur, 1k, General. Mikey's ringtone is a single half-second chime, because if it were anything more obnoxious than that, no one would spend any amount of time with Pete without throwing his phone out a window.

It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Really, Really Do by wakingup, 58k, Not Rated. Pete is trying to not fuck up this time. His friends don't have much faith in him, even though they love him. Mikeyway makes this easier and harder at the same time.

Pages In Your Passport by inlovewithnight, 15k, Explicit. Pete pursued soccer instead of music. He has a good long run in the game. Then in 2010, he meets this guy in a band.

If We All Could Be So by jedusaur, 2k, Teen. "Did you just put rainbow sprinkles on a mocha?" asks Patrick incredulously. "Yup," says Pete. "It's a crucial step in my seduction plot. Step two is being amazing at history. Step three, blowjobs."

Romantic Victories of Peter the Great by inlovewithnight, 1k, General. They met in the library, where Pete was briefly concerned that he was actually going to have to fight this guy over a book on conflicts in the Caucasus and how they influenced Russian military policy throughout history. The guy was taller than him, but skinny, and Pete felt pretty sure that he could kick him in the kneecap and then hit him over the head with the backpack full of books he was already hauling around.

Bone the Doldrums by inlovewithnight, 4k, Explicit. Pete/Mikey - Pete is a porn star. He falls in love with his new co-star. Luckily, his costar falls back.

Take One For The Team (Excuse Me If I'm Rude) by frenchpirate (Whiskey_n_speed), 25k, Explicit. “So, your coach,” Gabe started, change of subject, thank god. “Yeah, what about him?” Mikey asked and glanced over at Pete who was heading towards the coach locker rooms, dragging a net of footballs after him. “You never told me he was hot. I’m pretty sure that’s withholding indispensable information. I should’ve signed up for the soccer team.” He said halfway jokingly, and William scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What, he’s not-“ “He so is. He’s like totally – small and handy,” He made a smooth explanatory hand-motion. “I want to fit him in my pocket.” * (Or; twenty eight scenes about skipping school, douchebag friends, post-college parties and way too much soccer)

Misc.

dog days are over by Trojie, Pete/Gerard, 2k, Teen. Pete/Gerard, one works at an animal shelter and the other has a stray dog that needs help

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, Gen, Frank/Gerard, 25k, Rated R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

Catching Pieces of a Fallen Sky by snarkydame, Ray/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, 21k, Mature. Ray and Frank are the only survivors of the Jersey Queen, an independent freighter hit by (space!) pirates. In the chaos, the doomed ship took a blind jump through the hyperways, leaving them stranded in a dark and lonely quadrant of space. Mikey and Gerard are the last remaining crew of a legendary "ghost" ship, the Ravenkroft, which has been lost for the fifty years since the War that Broke the Stations. They've been avoiding inhabited space due to emotional scarring from the loss of their crew, and a feeling of isolation due to the fact that they are in fact cyborgs. They pick up Ray and Frank's escape pod, and promise to help them. In the process, old feeling of guilt are assuaged, new emotional ties are wrought, and the legendary ship comes home.

Be Your Own Spotlight (Like Bowie in the Morning Sun) by jedusaur, Edward/Mikey, 833 words, Mature. EDWARD CULLEN STALKS MIKEY WAY AND THEN THEY HAVE WILD BACKSTAGE SEX I DON'T EVEN KNOW *hides forever*

[archaictold]

The heat in his attitude snuffs out like one boldly would a burning candle with a precise pinch of their fingers. It doesn't disappear from his demeanor in full. Rather it redirects—most prominently as confusion when she pivots, acting the part of kindness. And so he pauses, hearing her out. Probably his first mistake. ❝ You don't give off a very good first impression, if I could be frank with you. ❞ Although, it is worth note that she's completely changed her approach. Whether that's out of belated self-awareness or entirely disingenuous altogether, he isn't sure. What he can make sense of is that it's an attempt to soften the edge he's established between them, and Zhilan, not typically having a sharp temperament to begin with, finds that he is faltering. At least, for a moment. A moment is all that's needed to allow her an opening, wherein she slips into the seat beside him, completely unchecked. He responds by tensing, but doesn't rise from his seat and leave. Not even as as she breaches his personal space and flicks the tip of his nose in a doting fashion. The only counteraction he takes is adamantly waving the motion away, like a fly from one's meal, his features wrinkled and distinctly put-off. Once his hand lowers, no longer shielding himself from any more disregard toward his boundaries, he assesses that her age, if nothing else, sounds like the truth. ❝ That would make you... not human? ❞ It would explain her lifespan being so short, and also her strangeness. Still, the danger of her hasn't left his senses. It might be something like morbid curiosity that keeps him there, entertaining her with his responses instead of making the more logical decision to leave. ( That, too, was human nature. To be drawn in by the inexplicable, defying common sense. )

❝ Genuinely, if you want people to respond to you better, you could stand to learn a thing or two about first impressions. You've gotten one of me, the way I've gotten one of you. That said, they aren't always correct... You're different now than you were when you first approached me. ❞

oh !

zhilan seems kind. soft. gentle, even? would she be mistaken to presume as such? from doelike feature to the vibrancy of green hair, all that he is screams alive! on initial impressions.

"now, why all the grumpiness ?" teeth show and pleasantries rear their head, lips positioning themselves into the kindness zhilan emits ( a smile, raised eyebrows to express curiosity, all of this is what indicates interest, mahito knows. maintaining eye contact is also something to show an expression, or degree, of sociability ). "i enjoy reading. kafka, believe it or not . . ."

a sigh, and a tinge of sadness presents itself in her voice. fake, of course! "are you really truly so cold to strangers ? i'm only ten months old, you know," and for that, she seems entirely serious. "learning about this world isn't easy when others are cold."

lip pouts, and she slinks into the chair beside him, rocking back and forth on the legs. "but what does it matter?" hand outstretched, she flicks his nose gently. "a gruff person like yourself definitely wouldn't want to waste time explaining basic necessities to someone in need. i should've evaluated you better ! but now i know. ♡ "