#because i needed the validation of being loved and cared about

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine | jjk | "i hear..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

Bygones will be bygone eras, fading into grey. Breaking up with Jeon Jungkook had been a vicious, clean break. He tried to take it back, but the damage was already done. You walked out of the world you didn't belong in, at least until Kim Taehyung calls your name.

this is part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of controlling behaviors in a romantic relationship; reader is emotionally distant after said breakup; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; your POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; and a certain Maestro cameo; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

“Please love me again.”

You could hear him saying it but you pretended not to hear. You pretended not to know. You pretended he wasn’t there. He was persona non grata. No, he was simply another blurry face amongst many that faded into the grey background of grey days. He was only a ghost. If he happened to be in the same place as you were, it wasn’t any of your damn business. People were allowed to be wherever they wanted to be.

“I’m sorry.”

Yes, he was.

Sorry that he couldn’t walk all over you like he wanted. Sorry that he couldn’t control you on that leash like he wanted. Sorry that you had the balls to cut all ties and not put up with his selfish bullshit anymore. Sorry. What a word. Your response had not been a vindictive one, though. You hadn’t blocked him on social media. You figured he would block you himself. The last moments were him berating you for being late, what if something happened to you, I was worried, and you snapping. It had taken every fiber of your being to not fling your clutch in his face and tell him to take himself out if he cared so much.

“I understand what you meant now.”

The first couple times he attempted to speak to you after it all, you were ice-cold furious. So angry that you simply refused to speak to avoid spitting literal fire. So, you didn’t. And then it became a habit. Then you stopped caring. You stopped feeling. You lived your life.

Alone.

Like an abandoned puppy, Jeon Jungkook followed you every chance he got, but there were less and less chances as time went on. You would walk past him. He would follow until it was definitely too creepy and simply stop, staring after you with a lost look in his empty eyes. Everyone could see the broken heart in his stare.

A lot of people asked you what happened.

It was a valid question.

It was just as valid for you to not answer.

“I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else.”

You avoided people who couldn’t let it go or cut them out altogether. What was the point of shit-talking, taking sides, making yourself angry over things that couldn’t be changed? What was the point of being upset over nights that couldn’t be taken back? Over phone calls and you sitting alone in a restaurant, empty chair in front of you and the reason in your hand, an opportunity came up, I’m leaving for Los Angeles in the morning, I need to pack, bye. Over trips suddenly cut short in the middle, the agency called, another model got sick last minute so I gotta go, just stay here and have fun. By yourself. Over accusations, what are you doing right now, send a photo, now. Over doubts, are you really at the supermarket, I don’t know, you could be doing anything, I’m not there after all. Over being five minutes late because the taxi you had taken was driven by an older gentleman chatting away, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to shut up simply because of a boy.

Five minutes.

“Where were you? You need to tell me if you’re late. What if something happened? I was worried.”

“The driver was talking to me.”

“And you couldn’t text that you were okay?”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Am I not your priority?” he had hissed.

Snap.

All those times, all those moments, okay, I understand, it’s fine, you can make it up to me later, they all came back to you in vivid recollections, and you had stared at Jeon Jungkook. All those people saying how lucky you must be having such a good-looking guy, an actual fashion model, must be so nice, and you only said nice things about him because it didn’t occur to you to complain, no, it would be silly to complain about someone you loved. That was part of loving someone, wasn’t it, being in love was putting up with these things and believing in their words. All those instances, prove what you’re doing, send a photo. Now. All that shit got you to this moment right here, right now, under this furious scrutiny, his dark brows furrowed, his pretty mouth twisted in a frown, his question ringing in your ears.

His accusation in which he had already deemed you guilty.

“The fuck you say to me?” you had growled softly.

Never once did you ask him what he was doing in the destination that he was at. Never once did you fault him for going out and having fun. Never once did you say anything about the multiple social posts of beaches and hotels and nightclubs and everyone scantily-clad, his arms around fellow models, pressed up against fabulous guys and glamorous girls. If he didn’t answer you for a couple days, you assumed it was due to long shoot days and combined jetlag making him crash. The very answer he gave you the first time you asked. You believed him then. There was no need to ask for confirmation over and over if you trusted him. And you did trust him.

Now, this.

“I was five minutes late. If I thought I would be later, I would have texted you,” you explained with emotionless calm. “At least I showed up. At least I didn’t make you sit down in the restaurant, wait around for an hour only to get a text that you aren’t coming. Not even a phone call anymore.”

You hadn’t raised your voice.

He had looked taken aback.

“But… I thought you would understand.”

“Of course, I understand.” The seething anger was white-hot but your tone was crystal-clear cold. “I can understand, as long as you show me some grace and appreciation for not losing my shit every time it happens. Am I not your priority? When have I ever been yours?”

He tried to answer quickly. “You’re always–”

But you were already pulling up the rideshare app, calling another car to come pick you up. “Am I? Then why accuse me the second I get out of the car? Where was I? In the taxi. You saw me get out of it. Why are you holding five minutes over my head like a death sentence, as if I surely betrayed you in those extra five minutes? If it’s you it could be five, thirty, hours, but I have to understand you are networking. I have to understand you are being personable. I have to understand that you are practicing being friendly because it doesn’t come naturally to you.”

Jungkook simply gawked at you, wide-eyed.

You narrowed your eyes, creating a distance he could no longer cross.

“Am I just here so you have someone to visit when you’re bored? Someone to fuck?”

Maybe the vulgarity was taking it too far. Maybe saying all of this in public right now was in poor taste. His jarring question rang in your head. Am I not your priority? Maybe you were wrong to say it all now, but it was the way he said it, as if your love for him had become invalid once you were five minutes late to the appointed time for this date that you didn’t know whether or not he would abandon you in the middle of or take you home and rock your world – and you realized you didn’t care what the outcome was.

You just didn’t give a fuck anymore.

There were so many things he could have done. He could break up with you if his career was more important. He could say sorry more. He could find ways to make it up to you. He could, but he didn’t, and you understood. But this. This you could not understand. This he could not do.

No.

This you would not let him do.

If this was innocent concern, he made it worse by coming off as suffocating and hovering. Now, you realized that no excuse would have been good enough to convince him otherwise. He had already made up his mind to attack you the second you walked out of that car, delivering in the fatal blow instantly. All those moments. All those times had become hair-thin cracks, marring the bond between you and him, tiny little slices to kill the relationship and your will to be in it.

“I don’t think…”

He trailed off, not completing his thought.

The car pulled up.

This was surely the meaning of quiet treason.

“No, you don’t,” you had finished for him with icy agreement. “You expect. You expect me to be here and hold your hand when you want it, and now I know you will never ask me if I ever need my hand held.”

You had stepped away from the curb, not once raising your voice, no longer looking at him, your knuckles digging into your beaded black clutch. You expected it to hurt at least a little.

It was nothing compared to this death by a thousand cuts.

“W-Wait!”

You didn’t.

You had opened the car door and closed it quickly. The driver  requested you to confirm your name. You tersely nodded. They didn’t ask any further questions even as you witnessed Jungkook’s shocked face in the side mirror as the vehicle drove away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t even cry. Maybe you should have given him a chance to say something. A chance to change.

Except you had.

This wasn’t the first time that you had this conversation, although the first time was you sitting him down and saying, hey, if you’re not sure about your schedule, let’s not arrange any dates around those days. We can go out when things settle down. The answer was agreement and all was well for a couple weeks. And then it would happen again. And then you would bring it up again. Whoops. And again.Then he would ask you what you were doing when he wasn’t there. Oh, really? Send pictures.You asking, this is a bit much, isn’t it? The answer being, I want to know you’re safe. You finally admitting that it drove you a bit crazy. Him laughing and saying he was a bit of a handful, brushing away your concerns in light of his own.

Five minutes.

Am I not your priority?

The anger had nowhere to go.

Like how summer turned into fall and then into winter, the anger grew cold and dense and concentrated. A stone. Then one day you turned it over and found nothing underneath. You stopped caring. On one hand, you could have been the bigger person and reached out. On another hand, you didn’t see the reason in wasting any more time. What good was closure? What good would it do, talking it out and getting the same result? Deserve this, deserve that. Fair or not, at the end of the day, it didn’t work and there was no forcing something if neither party wanted to really try. I understand, until you couldn’t anymore.

Now.

Now, you would sit alone at restaurants and not be disappointed.

Table for one, yes, thank you.

Now you would spend hours at the games store and no one would be asking you to take pictures and prove that you were there. He used to play video games too, but he gradually fell out of them. Busy. Felt like he couldn’t keep up. Sold his PC because he was never home.

Emptiness where he had once enjoyed spending that time with you.

You would stay at the music store for a long time, looking over albums and wondering if you should buy them. It had been such a long time. You never listened to CDs anymore although you had been obsessed with music as a kid. The past felt like a different time. Memories of a clunky CD player and wired headphones with the metal arch over your head and those spongey earcups. Now you had wireless earbuds and a phone. Still, you looked over the colorful albums and wondered if you should get one, just to have it or maybe even put it on display. He used to listen to a lot of music too. Probably still did, on planes and in cars. He used to share your taste.

Now you didn’t have to share anything.

You stuck with your favorites, still, for years. It was an ever-growing list of popular artists as well as lesser-known indie artists that you never forgot. You made sure to listen to the top hits as well since those songs were popular for a reason. The occasional earworm could lead you down a pleasant rabbit hole, too.

You picked up an album of a band you liked but had never owned and went home.

Got that dopamine unboxing it and smiling at the photocards. Looked through the extras with the album on repeat playing through your Bluetooth speaker. You didn’t do these kinds of things in front of Jungkook usually. You had always prioritized engaging with him. Listening to his stories, looking at the photos of places he had been, shaking your head at the long hours or difficult call times. Every moment precious because you would never know when it would be cut short.

You had made everything about him when in his presence.

You hadn’t blasted the relationship all over social media although it was obvious. For the most part, people had been respectful. You hadn’t deleted all the photos he was in, the photos he had taken of you, nor had you blocked him. People asked. You repeated the same thing over and over. I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else. People eventually stopped asking. Old news was old news. There was no visible resentment, and so the interest died out.

You caught Jungkook looking at you from across the concessions stand at the movie theater.

Those big dark brown eyes filled with rueful invitation.

You didn’t know what movie he was going into, but you turned away and didn’t think about it much.

Watched the movie you paid for, alone.

Went home.

Alone.

You used to watch movies twice. Once by yourself when it released, then a second time when Jungkook could make it. When he could. Sometimes he couldn’t and the movie was already out of theaters. Then you both would watch it at home when it released on streaming services. It was what it was. You enjoyed movies. You had the time and money to watch them twice. But now you didn’t have to.

That was nice.

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was deliberately going places that you often frequented or if it was coincidence. It was likely the latter, because he usually wasn’t alone. He had a group of friends that lived in this area and often came to visit them. He used to joke that it must have been fate for you to meet as your friend circles didn’t overlap. At least he had not shown up to the video games store or the music store you usually went to, so you didn’t feel threatened in any way. Maybe he was visiting his friends more because he was sad. Maybe he was visiting them more in hopes of seeing you, the same tactic he used when he first asked you out. Maybe it was both.

It was probably both.

Sometimes you would cry in frustration.

Sometimes you would play games to distract yourself.

Sometimes you didn’t mind too much as the days passed. Sometimes you would look outside and admire the sun. Sometimes it would rain and that was nice too. Sometimes you were sad but it wasn’t a negative feeling. Such was the natural course. Sadness was the promise of happiness to come, because one couldn’t exist without the other.

At least, you believed so.

Ther wasn’t much more you could do than that.

For a bit there you had almost thought the relationship hadn’t mattered because you had walked away so coldly. In some ways, you wished you could take it back. In other ways, you didn’t. It was hard to discount years of your life simply because of how the chapter ended. There had definitely been unique experiences that you were unlikely to relive. You used to attend lavish parties with Jungkook, especially many around the holidays. You would dress up in your best and put on a brave face. A lovely dress, the high heels he brought you, carefully done makeup and hair. Jungkook would walk in with you gliding beside him, silently holding his arm. People would tell you how fun it was working with him and how lucky he was to have such a pretty and understanding lady. These were all work events full of unfamiliar faces. Jungkook used to be reserved and hang out with you in corners but, as he got more popular, more people roped him into conversations, remember this, and he would slip in with his friends, naturally, laughing and smiling. You would wait nearby, at yet another party surrounded by better bodies, and somehow he would find you at the end of the night, ask you if you had fun.

And you would smile and assure him.

“Something like that.”

The best parties were the ones thrown by his friend Kim Taehyung. He had been in the entertainment industry for a long time, becoming Jungkook’s friend though their crossed paths in modeling. He had an affliction for celebration and Jungkook was always invited, which meant you, too, bore witness to many magnificent events hosted by him. The most extravagant were his own birthday parties. Quite so, as the date was after Christmas, and he continued the festive mood. Taehyung loved a theme. He would rent specific venues, arrange for live music, impose a dress code, everything. One year, he flew everyone out to Paris and rented an entire restaurant to celebrate. Even if you barely knew anyone there, it was fun being in a different world created by Taehyung’s magical vision. Everyone was thrown into it together, experiencing the vibes of an old American jazz club, the white beaches with glass waters during Christmastime, or a playful night filled with Taehyung’s favorite childhood games and sweet treats, complete with food stalls from the area of Daegu he grew up in.

You didn’t fit in, but no one did because these were all Taehyung’s fantasies brought to life.

He always sent the invitations by physical mail, on stunning stationery to match the theme. Someone else must have created them, but seemingly Taehyung approved them all as every single one contained his unique flourishing signature. You kept them in a box. They were too pretty to throw away.

You had received an invitation this year too, to a midnight masquerade ball, but you didn’t go.

Perhaps he didn’t know yet. Or, perhaps he did know and Jungkook asked him to invite you. They were quite close. If there was a plan, you didn’t take the bait. The date came and went. Maybe Taehyung considered you a friend, but that was probably a stretch. Jungkook didn’t like you talking to Taehyung too much.

Apparently, you made him smile too big.

Or something.

Taehyung had an entire party to get to every time you met him, anyway. You would have to shoo him off because there was very little night and Taehyung wanted to speak to every guest one-on-one. He was sincere like that. He was romantic like that. He was dark and handsome and in his own head, in his constant dream of living his wonderful life that, from what you could discern, he deserved. He even always remembered to ask the staff working at his party to eat cake with them. At the end of the night, Taehyung would pick up the microphone and thank the guests for coming and thank the staff for working hard to provide everyone with a good time. Taehyung always remembered to say thank you and he always made sure to express his gratitude to everyone, no matter their status.

You missed being at his party, a little bit, if only just to witness a fairy-tale in real life.

But you weren’t part of Jeon Jungkook’s world anymore.

And so you missed the party.

Please love me again.

On quiet, grey days, you realized how very boring your life was. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to think about the good times. About his laugh, about his starry eyes when you came into view, about enchanted nights where you would both make magic between bodies. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to pick out all his flaws until the memories were burned, images stricken with ash, never to be the same again. On quiet, grey days, you had every chance to run back or run away, at least in your head, but instead you lived your very boring life doing neither of those choices.

Whether you loved him or hated him, the result would still be the same.

You entered the artisan tea shop and greeted the staff. You talked about how your father was into tea, chatted about what would make a good gift. The prices of the sets. The amount of loose-leaf tea and how many cups it would make. The various flavors and strength. You smelled a bunch of different ones. Rejected some, remained indecisive about others, accepted a few as contenders.

You heard the bell by the door chime again, musical and clear.

A male’s voice, deep and polite.

You tensed. Your body knew before your mind caught up. You pointed to several flavors you had liked, and the employee suggested a gift box sampler featuring a watercolor camellia-printed limited-edition teacup set that you agreed to readily, all the while vaguely aware of a tingling behind your neck and a vigilant tension forming in your lungs. But it wasn’t until your name was called that you turned around by instinct, and then froze with recognition. Dark brown eyes under graceful black-brown waves. Tan skin glimmering under the lights. The image completed by a three-piece chocolate brown suit paired with a ruffled warm gray dress shirt and sharp dark leather oxfords. The stylish man smiled widely, box-like, and walked towards you without hesitation.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Kim Taehyung must have known, and yet.

You bowed lightly. “Hello.”

The sales associate was immediately charmed by Taehyung’s deep voice and dashing appearance, their gloved hands hovering over the half-packed box and openly ogling the demandingly handsome gentleman that took your hand warmly before lightly kissing your knuckles. Straight out of a movie. Probably learned it from one, or from traveling in Europe. He let go after a lingering moment.

He had said your name with the same velvety warmth he had at all of his parties.

It had hurt, but it wasn’t his fault.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you buying something?” He raised his head and daintily smiled at the employee before giving you his full attention again. “Let me pay for it.”

“No, ah,” you interrupted him quickly, handing over your card before Taehyung could reach into his heavily lined pockets. “No, sorry. I’m buying a gift for my father.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he apologized immediately, retracting his hands. “I meant to do something nice for you and I’ve overstepped.”

“It’s… It’s alright,” you chuckled softly, trying to dissipate the awkwardness. You turned slightly to sign the receipt, not looking at the price. Your card went back into your black leather bow purse. “You had no way of knowing. How are you? And your parents?”

Taehyung was still a little sheepish but he remained next to you at a respectful distance. “Me? I guess you could say I’m holding on. I think I might take a small break soon and spend a week with my family. How did you know I was thinking of them?” He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a mind-reader.”

You shook your head with a smile, taking the beautifully wrapped bag and bowing in gratitude to the employee. “No, you’ve just never been a big tea drinker. It was only a guess.”

He scratched the back of his head and sighed lightheartedly. “Ah, you’re right. I wanted to buy a grown-up gift, but maybe I should have asked what they wanted. I don’t know the first thing about tea.”

You both began to walk towards the entrance.

“You’re their adorable child. They will love anything you gift them.”

Taehyung grinned. “So, you think I’m adorable?”

You opened your mouth and then.

Then you were suddenly hyperaware of the brightness of the lights in the tea store. Suddenly aware of all the customers around you milling about and chatting with their friends and the employees. Suddenly the scents of the store were too strong and too varied and suddenly a phantom grip on your arm from a time long past pulled you away from your center, into the past, and you remembered all the times you stood in a corner of a party, on the outskirts of alcohol, music, and magic, wondering why you were so, so alone.

You plastered a smile on your face and replied pleasantly.

“Of course, you are, Kim Taehyung.”

It lasted a second.

Maybe less.

Taehyung gazed at you with curious eyes.

You kept the smile on your face.

He stepped past you and opened the door, gesturing you to walk out before him in the most gentlemanly way, smiling with his eyes crinkling as they usually did when he laughed or was in his comfort zone. “Come. Let me at least treat you to lunch,” he insisted.

You accepted his graciousness and turned as you walked to face him as you spoke. “That’s really not necessary. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

He chuckled, the sound coming deep from his chest. “Of course, I’m busy, but I always have time for a friend.” He shrugged nonchalantly, grinning. “My manager expects this kind of behavior from me anyway.”

You paused, looking up at him. “Friend?”

Flutters of lashes and confusion in dark brown orbs.

“Are we not friends?”

People around you continued walking, giving you and Taehyung weird looks. He didn’t seem to notice, undeterred by the world around him that wasn’t currently in his focus, the main character at every moment in his life, oblivious to anyone trying to get under his skin with their judgements, never the accessory to someone else.

It turned out to be more difficult than you thought, saying the words.

“I… well… Don’t you know that Jeon Jungkook and I aren’t dating anymore?”

Taehyung tilted his head with childlike innocence.

“Um… so you don’t eat lunch anymore?”

You blinked at him.

“Huh?”

He gave you this look. You stared back. For a moment the disconnect was so tangible that you almost had a word for it. A zephyr ruffled Taehyung’s soft curls. The sun made his skin glow and his dark eyes sparkle. Small signs of Mother Nature affectionately acknowledging one of her children. He smiled. It was then that you realized this was a decision you could make. A decision of a lonely self, not a lonely self that was an extension of another. A yes or no that didn’t have to be polluted by the past.

“Well…”

Your hands tightened on the straps of the gift bag.

“If you’ll have me.”

Taehyung grinned. “I know just the spot! You’ll love it.”

-

It was nice lunch.

No, it was wonderful time.

You had been worried that you would be underdressed in your calf-length flowy black dress and chunky knit lavender cardigan, but you fit right in. Taehyung had picked a busy rooftop brunch spot. It was French-themed, or at least as French as Korea could get. There was a bit more wood than brass and crystals. It still made for a nice hideaway. It seemed Taehyung was well recognized here, and yet people maintained a distance regardless. It must have been his polite yet stern demeanor. When he sat down though, he seemed to relax, waving a hand and telling you to order whatever you liked.

You never could turn down good brioche.

You thought it would have been awkward, at least. It wasn’t. He talked about his work, asked about yours. Asked what you thought about this or that. Memories from past events, what you liked or didn’t like. What he paid too much for that nobody noticed, along with a hearty laugh, and moments he loved, such as having a group photo at every one of his events. You asked him if he enjoyed planning the events themselves. He confessed with a roughish smile that he had a planner for all those details. You thought it strange to spend so much money on such occasions, but there was something pure about it too. Besides, you ended up getting your answer.

“What’s the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?” Taehyung abruptly asked, sitting up in alarm.

You blinked at his suddenness. “Uh… I don’t know. I would have to think about it.” Your lips upturned slightly, then you tilted your head and looked back at him. “What about you? What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your life so far?”

He relaxed back in his chair. His expression became pensive. You paused in mid-bite, seeing him look a bit sheepish.

“You’re not the first person to ask me about the parties,” Taehyung chuckled deep from his chest. “A lot of people tell me it’s a waste of money. And it is to other people, but it isn’t to me. The most important lesson I’ve ever learned was…”

He raised his head with a small smile.

“You can’t get time back.”

You remembered the extensive decor, the delicate hors d'oeuvres, even the various perfumes sprayed into the air complimenting the theme of each party. Exquisite and memorable details. Taehyung ticked his head, seemingly recalling it all too.

“I think I’ve mentioned this, but my grandmother was the closest maternal figure I had,” he explained, fondly smiling. “I’m close to my parents too, but they had to work a lot to give me a good life, so I spent a lot of time with my siblings and grandparents. My grandmother used to hold celebrations for the achievements I had, even if they were mediocre or not that impressive. Nothing extravagant, or anything. A little cake or my favorite sweets. She would sing for me and clap her hands. She would say, it’s my duty to give you good memories. As I got older, I became busy, of course, chasing dreams, and I didn’t make time for her small celebrations any more. I was just out of university when she passed away. I often think I hadn’t spent enough time with her. Time is money, as they say. Next time, I would say, until there wasn’t a next time.”

The weight of his words settled on the table.

“It’s not your fault,” you reminded him, but Taehyung simply smiled and shook his head.

“It wasn’t anybody’s fault,” he agreed. “But that wasn’t it. I couldn’t get all that time back. Sure, did I take jobs that put me in a really good place now? Yeah. Yeah, of course, I make a lot of money now since young me jumped at every chance to model for a small brand or do a single-run commercial. I really love my career. I love that, because I did the hard work, I even get offers to act in primetime dramas now. But I should have made less. I should have made time. I should have gone to see her and let her do her duty to give me good memories.”

He waved his hands in a slight shrug. You could tell he was still regretful about it, but there was something else too. He looked directly at you with that boxy grin of his.

“I decided, then, that I too  wanted to give good memories to the people that are precious to me. I have all this money, anyway. Why waste it on things? I want to waste it on memories. I want people to look forward to special days, to celebrate life, to look back on a fun time.”

So that was why.

“That is what is really important to me.”

Kim Taehyung wasn’t only good looks, of course.

“I’ve yapped long enough. What is really important to you?” he asked again, chuckling.

“Oh, I…”

And there were no words.

You straightened, startled by your own silence. There were lots of important things, weren’t there? There was… and there wasn’t. Friends, sure. And, also, friends came in and out of your life. You didn’t take it personally. Family, yes. Cordial but not deep. They had their own lives to live. You almost opened your mouth to say these generic things, and then you caught the look in Taehyung’s eye and stopped.

This basic question was not so basic after all.

“I… Am I boring?” you blurted with a start.

“Boring?” Taehyung frowned. “No, you’re not.”

Your brows furrowed. “Aren’t I?”

He laughed, hearty and deep. “Trust me. You’re not boring. We wouldn’t be having a conversation if you were boring.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are we having a conversation?”

Taehyung smiled warmly.

“Because I appreciate your outlook on life.”

You were taken aback.

“What?”

He nodded. “Isn’t it obvious?” He waved a hand carelessly. “I’ve met so many people doing what I do. Some people are just nice to you because of money. Or think you can boost their reputation. Or they think they can take advantage of you. You’ve been around all that too, no?” He did not mention Jungkook.

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not anymore. I’m pretty ordinary.”

A small frown. “No, everyone is extraordinary.”

You scoffed. “I’m only an accountant. Not even one that works closely with my own clients – I’m just the one at the firm that does the final review over everyone’s work to make sure we don’t get into legal trouble. That’s nothing like what you do.”

He impatiently swept your words away. “Everyone is extraordinary,” he repeated.

“I don’t think–”

“You are different,” Taehyung pressed. “You had been introduced to a different world than your own and you could have been a vulture. You could have taken for your own sake. You could have done everything you could to be ‘one of us’. You could have scorned us too, called it all superficial and stupid. But you didn’t.” He crossed his arms to make his point. “You observed. You listened. You treated me, the people around me, everyone as their own person. We weren’t just some dumb rich people to you. We were individuals.”

You didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t something you had ever consciously thought about before.

“There are so many people that believe in using others, either in a beneficial way or in a cruel way,” sighed Taehyung. “It’s a difficult world. We all need to live.” He reached over and made you jump by placing his hand over the back of yours. “Don’t give up on that, okay?”

Your stared at him with wide eyes. “On… what?”

Almost. You didn’t quite have an answer for the most important lesson in your life you had learned so far. But almost. Kim Taehyung cocooned his palm over your hand and trapped you with his determined brown eyes, straight from a drama scene. A heavenly prince in a fancy café. He looked back to you very seriously, taking all of your attention away from the whispering conversations on other tables, away from the clinking plates and glasses, away from all distractions.

“Don’t give up on the way you want to live.”

Those small moments.

From eating dinner alone to watching movies alone to buying that album and unboxing it yourself to looking outside, days and nights, wondering what could have been and killing that thought over and over again.

“The way… I want to live?” you echoed breathlessly.

The clear, musical chime of the bell by the entrance sang through the air, mingling with the conversation and consumption. A halo of sound that rang true over every table to reach every customer. It was as striking as it was lovely, flawlessly melding into the moment. A pure sound that could trigger a pleasant déjà vu, the recall of a good chat over good food.

Taehyung grinned with his beautiful, perfectly white teeth.

“I want you to have good memories. Whatever you decide, let us make good memories with those precious to us.”

You decided, then and there, that you needed to start doing things.

-

“Oh, good, you’re home. That would have been awfully embarrassing.”

“W-What…?”

You backed up in your slippers as a stunningly well-dressed man flourished into your home like an astronaut landing on the moon. That was, if the moon was your front door. The black mat was space-themed, printed with abstract stars and a grayish circle. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Your pajamas were also soft black cotton with a twinkly star print, although your slippers were simple, white furry poofs that felt like walking on clouds.

“Take this.”

“What is – oof!”

In contrast to your outfit, the man who had entered your home looked like he had stepped off the runway. He wore light blue trousers that you almost mistook for jeans, however they had a tone-on-tone print that clearly indicated the luxury designer. Underneath the navy-blue duster coat was a crisp white shirt pressed to the gods with distinctive sky-blue trim. A quick glimpse and anyone would know the inner lining of the duster was blue silk, the matching tone-on-tone print subtle and obvious at the same time. You nearly buckled under the weight of a wooden box, gasping as you saw the slices of high-grade beef in a gold bow. The man gestured with his hand in a swooping manner.

“I heard all about it from Taehyung,” he was saying, shrugging his broad shoulders heavily.

“Heard…?” You were still reeling from the unexpected guest and a box of meat. “What’s this, I can’t accept th–”

The man shot you a scathing look. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided, dismissive. “How unbelievably rude I would be dropping by your home if I didn’t have a gift? Psh, why, I wouldn’t be Kim Seokjin!”

And so he was.

Although, as far as you knew, you and famous-actor-turned-businessman Kim Seokjin were not close friends. Not close enough to be gifted with a house call and meat, anyway. He had been close to Jeon Jungkook back then. They often sought each other out when they both attended the same events. You were well aquatinted with Seokjin’s boisterous personality and his worldwide-known handsomeness. He was no different today, looking sculpted from jawline to broad shoulders to the regal way he stood. Glowing skin. Lightly permed, chestnut brown hair. Full lips, currently in a slight frown.

You bowed awkwardly. “S-Sorry, I just didn’t expect…”

“Ah, it’s alright.” He called you by name, although somewhat awkwardly, as if he was unsure if he should be more formal or not. “I won’t take too much of your time.”

You were still confused about Seokjin saying he had heard something from Taehyung. Actually, you didn’t even know how he got your address, although it wasn’t impossible. After all, Taehyung’s party invitations came in snail mail. It wasn’t that shocking. You probably might have been more annoyed if you were in the middle of something, but all you had been doing was getting ready to heat up some leftover takeout. You shuffled slightly, trying to block the view of the kitchen counter. Not necessarily embarrassed, per se, as your apartment was quite spacious and neat, but nothing here was comparable to Kim Seokjin’s lifestyle. It was kind of pointless to do so, though, since Seokjin was quite tall.

He seemed not to notice or care about the current state of your kitchen.

You stood there, dazed, clutching a box of high-grade beef.

He cleared his throat very firmly. “I came to invite you to the opening of my new establishment. Two weeks from now.” He rattled off the opening date. “But don’t come on opening day. It’ll be too crowded. Some day after. Let me know when and I’ll make special arrangements for you,” he added, stepping forward to tuck his business card into one of the folds of the gold bow. “Call the number on there. My assistant will connect me to you. I can link you with talented professionals if you are interested, which I’ll pay for, of course.”

“I– What – I’m sorry?” you sputtered. “Me?”

The handsome man exaggeratedly whipped his head from side to side. “Uh, do I see anyone else? Yes, of course, you,” he affirmed gruffly. “I came to invite you in person.”

“Well…” This must be how deer felt when confronted with headlights. “I’m not trying to be rude, but, uh… why?”

Seokjin looked offended. “Why? So you can meet people, silly.”

You struggled to connect the information given to you but he was not making it easy. ��Meet people?”

“Yes,” he tutted. “You want to meet people, don’t you?”

Did you? You gave him a confused look.

“As Taehyung said,” Seokjin continued as if you completely understood. “People like you need to be surrounded by good people. And I happen to know a lot of them. We need people like you in this industry.”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t have any intention of–”

“Precisely.” He barreled on as if your front entryway was his own stage. “That is precisely why.”

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

“H… Hah?”

Something in his expression softened. You almost forgot the weight of the wood box in your hands. You almost forgot the ridiculousness of you in your pajamas and Kim Seokjin in his luxury designer clothes. You almost forgot that you were in a completely different class, completely out of your element, completely ordinary.

He sighed and slipped his hands into his pants pockets, neatly tucking back his coat. “Look, I understand if you absolutely don’t want to have anything to do with me and the others. I don’t blame you. But,” he added, nodding lightly. “Your presence is missed. I do believe your interactions with those around you have done them a world of good. Maybe not everyone, yes, but you’re still spoken of, even now.”

“What…?” You blinked, doubtful. “Really?”

Seokjin chuckled, nodding. “You are good company.”

You thought all those times. All those events, dinners, parties. You mostly remembered Jungkook letting you be. Sure, you had light conversation with those around you. You couldn’t remember all their faces. They had been simple conversations, you thought, but they weren’t superficial once you really thought about it. You didn’t have basic industry chatter to talk about, so instead you had asked about aspirations. Asked why instead of what. Why acting? Why modeling? Why entertainment? Talks of the past, the present, the future. Pretty normal, you thought, but maybe…

Maybe it was more normal to ask what they were achieving.

Maybe it wasn’t so normal to ask who someone was.

“Anyway,” Seokjin coughed, breaking you out of your daze. “I wanted to give you ample time to think about it.”

“More than two weeks?” you mused.

He waved a hand. “Don’t know about you, but I need time to schedule and plan things. I need time to get myself ready to interact,” he muttered, half-joking and half-bitterly.

The meat was getting heavy. “Ah… What’s the dress code?”

“Aish, didn’t I tell you?” Seokjin tapped the side of his head. “Think about it. Then give me a call, and I’ll arrange for hair and makeup and fashion. No, don’t even bother asking about price. I’m inviting you to introduce you to people, so I am paying. End of discussion. And…”

A loaded pause.

Tick of the head and Seokjin very seriously asked you.

“If Jeon Jungkook is there, will you be fine?”

You answered honestly.

“I don’t think it will be an issue.”

He surveyed you for a long second and then nodded.

“Alright. Let me know when you’ve decided. Have a nice night. Don’t hesitate to contact me if I can help in some way. I’m not a stranger. By the way.” He added one last comment before leaving, spinning back around with a hand on your now open door and the other pointing to the side of the box. “The butcher shop I purchased this from is owned by a friend of mine. Make sure to send your family and friends his way once you taste how delicious and high-quality it is.”

-

You walked into the nightclub, oddly at peace among the blaring music and bustling bodies, stepping into a world of light and dark and pushing boundaries.

The past couple hours had been spent in a chair, fussed over by a detailed makeup artist and equally talented hairdresser. It had been more enjoyable than you originally thought. Perhaps it had been Seokjin’s excellent choices or their own expertise. They even both asked for your input and offered their advice. It felt like a joint effort. Even the fashion stylist who came later was as informative as they were considerate. You had found out that they had taken your name and your photos to have your fortune read and performed color analysis, respectively. That explained why Seokjin had asked you to take those plain photos. This had made color and style selection much simpler, as you naturally liked all the choices. You were no stranger to tight outfits, although this type of nightlife was not the kind of place you frequented. The stylist had brought a rack of choices, and just in case, a black slip dress looks good on everyone, and all of them were compelling in one way or another. All nightclub appropriate. You asked what to try first. The stylist had asked you how you were feeling.

Feeling?

The answer came out before you could stop it.

“Like revenge.”

You had laughed it off, and so had the staff, but you had seen the gleam in their eyes as if they, too, relished in being part of this so-called revenge.

Well, they were.

You weren’t perfectly sure if this was actual revenge yet, no. You were certainly dressed for it. Black lace corset. Tight lilac short skirt. Black patent leather jacket cropped so severely that it was nearly a bolero. Delicate black pumps with a thin ankle strap. The kind that was a bit fiddly to get on, but was worth it in the end. There was a power in this type of outfit, the kind that made you hold your head high and walk alone with confidence. Perhaps similar to a superhero costume. Just as impractical, too, heh. But that was okay. You weren’t here to prevent any crimes.

Just commit them.

Maybe.

In any case, you weren’t even sure what was going to happen tonight. Something had been planned for you, so you walked in and looked around, wondering if you should ask for help. The luxury was obvious from every corner of the building. From the furniture choices to the expansive bar to the crisp, pressed uniforms of the employees, every detail oozed sophistication. You admired the tastefulness of it, surprised that it didn’t feel gaudy or overdone. Must be the refined touch of Kim Seokjin. Even the clientele was jaw-dropping. You spared a moment to look from face to face, wondering if you should be less obvious about it, but then some paused and gazed back, unafraid, offering a simple smile.

They didn’t know you didn’t really belong, yet.

The sheep’s clothing worked, then.

You almost laughed at your own unspoken joke, and then, either compelled by fate, chance, or some mixture of both, your eyes rose and you saw him. It was definitely him. It was only the back of his head and black leather, but you knew it was him even before he turned around.

Jeon Jungkook.

You had seen him many times after the fact. However, this time was the first time that you came with weapons at your disposal, subtle as they were. For a moment, you wondered what to do. You stared as those brooding dark eyes widened in surprise. His hair was slicked back. Leather jacket, white tank, dark jeans, probably black boots. You couldn’t see it all from this angle. Still, you knew him too well. He wasn’t a suit-and-tie breed unless he was forced by the occasion. And, anyway.

You had mildly hoped that he would dress down these days, as it both suited him and reflected your preferred personal taste.

Egotistical, yes, and, now that you could see, true.

You broke the gaze first, seeing a waiter approach you. Bowed lightly, walking with him as he explained what was in store tonight, and yet your mind was still fixated on that shocked gaze from the far table up above. It did register that you were going up the stairs too, but somehow you knew that you weren’t going near that table.

You wondered if he regretted everything.

You wondered if he saw you differently now, dressed up and on a mission.

You wondered if Jeon Jungkook understood, truly, how deeply he had hurt you with his misdemeanors and you wondered if you, truly, understood how you didn’t help by always sweeping said misdemeanors under the metaphorical rug. You wondered if there was a chance for reconciliation or if this was all a big mistake. Maybe this was only another instance of two ships silently passing in the night. A pair of parallel lines that would never intersect. Or… would this become a pattern that could only be completed by intersection?

Whichever one it was, it was going to be evident tonight.

You raised your head, seeing a champagne bottle and another of expensive liquor.

“Are you ready?”

Your eyes shifted and you smiled up at the waitress.

“Yes, I am.”

She smiled and bowed her way out. Revenge. You savored the word. You had never thought of it that way, but then again that was because you always believed in the higher road. In enduring. That was how strength was formed. Vindication was unladylike and uncouth. Or so the story goes. You became aware that you were being watched.

I don’t belong here.

You twisted your body and stared directly into Jeon Jungkook’s eyes.

He pivoted away immediately. Unable to hold your gaze. Ashamed, probably. You pondered quietly. He brought you into this. All this around you – beauty, opulence, and the shadows between gold. Even without him, your connection to these people remained because his friends believed in you for some reason. You agreed, because maybe there was still something here for you.

But that was no reason to believe that you belonged here nor to act like it.

You realized, suddenly, that some part of you still thought you had to keep up the front.

“Excuse me.”

You looked up to a man who had the expression of a pleased kitty cat. His eyes disappeared from his smile. Radiant, cream skin. Long, bleached-blond hair that was half-tied back from his face but still skimmed along his shoulders. He wore a suit and tie, perfectly tailored, and was noticeably shorter than nearly everyone here. Then again, almost everyone here was a model, in high heels, or both.

“Did I interrupt?” he asked lightly, his intonation hinting at a Busan dialect.

“Oh, no,” you answered with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to space out like that. Please, sit down.”

The man laughed behind his hand before pulling out the chair and sitting down. He had elegant fingers that reminded you of a pianist. “It was cute,” he commented, somewhat shyly, before turning away and clearing his throat. He faced you once again, composed now, and bowed in greeting, stating his name.

You hurriedly did the same.

“I hope I’m not thinking too highly of myself by sitting here with you.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I want this to be an open invitation.” You poured him a glass of liquor to start off the night. He had a noticeable presence. Not a towering one, rather, as someone who knew himself well. Still, you could sense an introverted soul. “Don’t feel too pressured. I only want to ask a question.”

His eyebrows raised, curious. “A question?”

You smiled. “Yes. And I want you to promise to answer honestly.”

His lips upturned thoughtfully. There was something playful about his expressions. Very cute. Perhaps unintentional. “A promise right away to a stranger?”

You allowed yourself a little mischief. “Do I look like I could hurt anyone?”

The man across the table caught the bait and toyed with it. An expert. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean It wouldn’t be pleasant.” He smiled again, with that same kitty cat contentment, and nodded. “Okay, I’m ready to tell the truth. You only get one chance. Use it well.” His tone teased, but his voice was sincere.

The question.

You stared into a stranger’s eyes and asked.

“What is the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?”

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

--

masterpost

[transmascposi]

I feel really isolated because I hardly see any trans masculine positivity posts,,,, The only posts I see,, that are even shared by my own friends,,, are those that are complaining about trans mascs and how we're evil, ugly, and ruining the trans community,,,, I don't know what I did wrong besides simply exist as a trans masculine person,,, I still face misogyny and now I'm facing transphobia from my own friends,,, I even had to block somebody who said 'I have never found trans males to be sexually attractive' and instead of people telling them that's transphobic everyone was agreeing with them,,, I don't know where to turn anymore because everyone hates trans men so badly,,,, plus it's interesting that ppl will say how much they hate trans men but then fetishize our bodies,,,

I feel you. It's so lonely and difficult sometimes. It can feel like the whole world hates you. But I promise it's not like that. There's a lot of people who love us, really.

I'm sorry this is happening to you. You didn't do anything wrong. And even if you did, it wouldn't justify this treatment. You are valid and amazing and you bring so much beauty to the world and to the queer community. I had to cut off a few internet friends who hated on trans men and I don't regret it one bit. If they hate trans masculine people, I suggest cutting these people off. They are not good friends to you.

My advice is to try to spend less time online. The hate is much more concentrated here, and it's much more openly vicious. We certainly do have bad things happening to us in real life, but from my experience at least, the hate online is on another level. There are encounters that we can't really prevent in real life, but you can control the majority of your interactions online. I suggest avoiding the hate as much as you can, even if it means not spending time on your favorite platform. It can seem like I'm stating the obvious and I probably am, but at the same time, when I struggled a lot with online hate on trans mascs, I would keep spending time in trans masc spaces on tumblr that are full of this hate. I think we have the tendency to dwell in the hate, for whatever reason. To reblog it to argue with it, to keep repeating the same points to people who don't care about the truth, to try to counter the lie that trans mascs have it easy by witnessing the hate as a getcha. I'm not saying that you do this necessarily, but I definitely did it.

My second advice is to go out and meet people who understand and support you. A wonderful way to do that is activism. If you can, join your local trans activist group! You don't have to have inspiring speeches on big podiums and argue with people. You can help with small practical tasks — those people are very much needed and appreciated! Or you can find your local queer events and go there. It can be intimidating at first, especially if you go alone, but there's always someone a little bit lost at these events. People get it. Again, it definitely can be very difficult, but try to talk to some trans people there. Or anyone, really. You will find out that there's a lot of people who support and get us. And people who might not fully understand yet, but they want to try and they want to help. Even these imperfect encounters will warm your heart enough to forget a little about all the hate, even just for a moment. And being in activist circles and hearing people say your exact thoughts out loud — oh man it's SO satisfying. These people don't even have to be your friends. I'm trying to be an activist and there are people who I have fun with and who give me a sense of community — yet I don't meet them outside of activism stuff because I know we aren't a good match to be friends. And yet, their existence in my life brings me a lot of warmth. Building community is the key, really.

I wish you the best of luck and strength and I hope you will feel better soon.

[isabellehemlock]

Kat's Catholic Commentary - Part (I've lost track)

My focus for this episode will be on Lestat's speech in his parting letter to Louis.

The purpose behind the letter may vary depending on when it was written (before or after Lestat knew of Louis’ plan of betrayal).  However, my focus is on the language used - specifically “the veil” - and why my Catholic senses were tingling.

But first - the disclaimer:

This is purely a fan meta/theory.  Even when I talk about character motivations with some certainty, remember it's just my take, not a fact-based declaration.  This helps keep things brief rather than saying "in my opinion" before every other sentence.

All points and takes are valid - this is just one of them.  I'm exploring one potential aspect of Lestat and Louis' relationship, not the whole picture or even trying to suggest it as the main foundation.

Also, there are frank references to the Catholic Church, its history, practices, sacraments, and some Bible verses.  If at any point you need to take a step back for self-care, please do.  Your well-being comes first.

Before diving in, I’ll share why I see a potential for a secondary meaning behind it because I’d like to add some weight to my personal fan theory that Lestat is conscious of how faith is still an integral part of Louis’ identity and how he might use it (however the purpose of this, I’ll leave to the reader).

Several moments in the first season, and some from the books (spoilers ahead if you’d like to avoid events after IWTV), reference Lestat and Louis’ relationship and his faith (and especially with a context of Catholicism):

The entire monologue at the end of episode one as Lestat declares his feelings for Louis in front of the altar.

Lestat’s monologue of Saint Louis (both as an off hand reference in ep 1 and the expanded version of Ep 2 that ends with: “You’re challenge every sunset St. Louis, and I’d have it no other way.”)

After Louis asks about Antoinette in Ep 3, when Lestat is describing the need for various forms of pleasure for “anything that wards off the dungs of the everlasting road we walk” - pauses to point out Louis’ form of pleasure as “Pleasures of the Good Book by the fire for you.”

And then in Ep 6, when Lestat arrives to gift Louis something from his favorite bookshop: “‘The Book of Hours.’  Extremely rare, 15th century.” - the Book of Hours, is also known as the Liturgy of Hours, or Divine Office, used by both clergy, religious and laity alike for daily devotions on a rotating cycle for uniform prayer.

And from the books:

In IWTV, Louis’ reference to following Lestat as a kind of personal Jesus: 

I allowed myself to forget how totally I had fallen in love with Lestat’s iridescent eyes, that I’d sold my soul for a manycolored and luminescent thing, thinking that a highly reflective surface conveyed the power to walk on water. 

“What would Christ need have done to make me follow him like Matthew or Peter? Dress well, to begin with. And have a luxurious head of pampered yellow hair. 

Later, in Prince Lestat, when they are reunited, Louis says (from Lestat's POV): 

He leaned close to me, and he put his hand on my arm. “ ‘Wither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people’; and because I have no other god and never will, you shall be my god.”*

* This quote Louis is saying is from the Book of Ruth: She answered, "Do not be against me, as if I would abandon you and go away; for wherever you will go, I will go, and where you will stay, I also will stay with you. Your people are my people, and your God is my God.” - Ruth 1:16 CPDV

I’ve also shared metas and commentary on Tumblr and Twitter about Louis and Lestat's relationship to faith and the little nods I’ve picked up here and there (more on that below).  But this isn’t intended as a comprehensive summary, just a soft recap to add context for anyone wondering, “how did she read that in this scene?”

Now, onto the main point!  For anyone needing a refresher, here’s the letter in full:

In the event that you are reading this, something dreadful has occurred.  Which is not my own death, but rather, the fact that we both now exist in two different worlds.  Do not waste your life seeking revenge on the person or persons who did this.  Do not give them the satisfaction of the hunt.  Let treachery eat away at them from within.  And you, you go carry on with your living.  Know only this, mon cher: you are the only being I trust, and whom I love, above and beyond myself.  All my love belongs to you.  You are its keeper.  A veil will now forever separate our union.  But it is a thin veil, and I’m always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing.

Setting aside the beautiful writing, the language used, and the sentiments declared (it fed my Words of Affirmation love language meter well), my second thought upon hearing “A veil will now forever separate our union.  But it is a thin veil, and I’m always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing.” was what my Catholic senses were tingling.

In a previous meta I discussed how I viewed the scene of Louis’ turning as a nod to the Sacrament of the Eucharist (though I can also see the other fan theory of the Sacrament of Matrimony).  This furthers my idea of Louis viewing Lestat as a kind of personal Jesus.  Given the examples above, I believe there might have been some intention behind Lestat’s words to reach Louis on a vulnerable level through his faith.

But why would former Catholic altar boy Louis catch that meaning, and what would it mean to him?

In the Catholic Church, the Eucharist is veiled in order to symbolize the mystery and sacredness of the Sacrament.  The veil represents the separation between the divine and the mortal, indicating that the true essence of the Eucharist (Christ's Body and Blood) is hidden under the appearance of bread and wine (and it’s a practice that dates back to early Christianity, where the veil also served to protect the Eucharist from desecration and to enhance the reverence of the faithful during Mass).

As Catholics, we believe that Jesus, at the Last Supper, instituted the Eucharist, when He said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19).  He also said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you” (Luke 22:20).  They were declarations to emphasize the sacrificial nature of the Eucharist but also to serve as a message of hope - that there would be an intimate connection between Jesus and His followers, despite His physical absence after His death and resurrection - “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).  

Though death might separate the physical presence, the Eucharist provides a continuous, though veiled, connection with Christ.  This then allows the veil to symbolize hope and assurance that, while there may be a separation, it is thin, with the promise of a deeper, spiritual communion that transcends physical boundaries.

So, if Louis potentially viewed the Dark Gift as a kind of Eucharist that nourishes the soul, given to him through Lestat, then their spiritual interconnection and the nourishment it provided could continue.  His devotion to Lestat would not need to end.

I believe Lestat “I went to a monastery to become a priest” de Lioncourt, knew exactly what he was doing when he used those words to describe how interlinked they would remain.  

This furthered Louis’ (perhaps even subconscious) view of Lestat and Jesus - and himself as potentially Judas (meta here, and here), though I personally enjoy the view of Louis identifying with Mother Mary the most (visual reference and poem, art and another art piece here).

Whether intentional or not, or perhaps a completely different point that I read too much into (which can definitely be the case lol), it spoke to me on a deep level when I heard it.  I’d like to believe it did for Louis as well. 

[mistershr1mp]

Sorry one last thing. It is actually driving me insane how dense people are being about especially whether or not Shoko cares about Gojo.

First and foremost, being a jujutsu sorcerer IS a curse. It means that you are constantly conditioned to perpetuate violence and be desensitized to death and loss as a means to accept how truly suddenly you can lose anyone. It’s a motivation to be strong and not get left behind. This also means going down this path actively fractures relationships and pulls people apart from emotional bonds as to not get too attached (tho obviously, with every close romantic platonic and familial relationship we see it daily, because love perseveres as much as curses do).

Between Shoko’s already sheltered nature due to the utility of her abilities needing to be protected, naturally becoming conditioned to death and loss of her peers intimately as a doctor, and the disparity in strength between her, Gojo, and Geto, emotionally she feels ignored and casted to the side, but most importantly like she couldn’t ever reach them. This is the same vice versa with Gojo and Geto. Because of the immense amount of trauma as well as the nature of what it means to get stronger none of them could communicate nor reach the other.

Despite this literal and figurative gap, her actions and thoughts prove that she cares immensely about Gojo and Geto, and she goes out of her way to reach them in other ways. Something she does know is that Satoru is strong, and I don’t think until the fight actually happened she ever thought there was even a chance he could lose (we see her look genuinely distressed and get distracted as the fight goes on). This is a plan that was absolute last resort that no one wanted or thought would happen. She doesn’t have time to grieve, she doesn’t have time to object anymore. Satoru is gone and everyone is putting their life on the line to defeat the very prevalent threat in front of them. This is also an end Gojo accepted and I don’t think her objection would have changed his mind (however he obviously longs for that validation but can’t receive it bc he’s had to push everyone away since Geto’s defection).

It’s a horrible, despair inducing end for Gojo. It is heartbreaking to see his body reanimated for violence and bloodshed by a student who he tried to preserve the youth and innocence of. But to blame Shoko, who literally does not have another choice and is too occupied with saving other sorcerers and helping defeat Sukuna by healing people to pretend Geto was the only person who cared about Gojo is lunacy. She’s just as emotionally stunted and everyone processes emotions differently.

Gojo, Geto, and Shoko were the best of friends and loved each other immensely. They just didn’t know how to handle the world around them and were unable to communicate and reach each other fully. This is just my opinion tho so what do I know lmao

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Midsommar vs SPOP: Cults and Religious Trauma

i watched Midsommar recently and was struck by how subtle and nuanced the Hårga were, in comparison to the Intergalactic Horde. of course, i don’t expect SPOP to show the kind of brutal gore that Midsommar did, but what i’m talking about is the way these cults indoctrinated members.

Horde Prime just mind controlled everyone to follow his orders and praise him, and it just felt so immature, especially compared to the way SPOP handled some of the other deeper topics. you’re telling me they wrote an actually good manipulator in the form of Shadow Weaver, but couldn’t do the same for Horde Prime? cult leaders are supposed to be manipulative. they don’t just force you to join their cults because it’s so much easier to break out of it. no, what they do is they convince you that this is for your own good. they promise you support, community, happiness, peace. they especially target emotionally vulnerable individuals, because they are a lot likely to accept help from a large community who is seemingly just looking out for them and trying to help them out.

and this is what happens in Midsommar. Dani recently lost her entire family to a murder-suicide, and her boyfriend had fallen out of love with her at this point and he often manipulates and guilt-trips her whenever she points out his mistakes. she was overall extremely lonely and depressed, trying hard to repress her emotions for everyone else’s sake. this is the kind of person the Hårga were looking for. a lot of the audience didn’t even realize that Dani was being indoctrinated into a cult or that joining said cult was going to be very unhealthy for her. that’s how convincing the Hårga were.

Pelle especially seems like the warm, comforting figure that Dani needed, letting her open up about her feelings and listening to her, in contrast to Christian, Dani’s boyfriend, who was often preoccupied with other things, and didn’t even bother to remember Dani’s birthday. you almost root for Pelle and Dani to end up together, until you realize that he is also part of the cult and all of his empathy and compassion is just a clever way to manipulate Dani into trusting the Hårga.

the scariest thing about the Hårga is that they weren’t large, imposing figures with a god complex. they didn’t have a leader who ruled them with an iron fist. they were just a seemingly normal community with seemingly normal people who had fun rituals and celebrations, and seemingly supported and cared for one another. even after seeing two people die brutally, Dani was still manipulated into joining the Hårga because they took advantage of her trauma and her loneliness. she desperately needed actual support and a shoulder to lean on, something her boyfriend didn’t provide. so when the Hårga offered her that support, it was easy for her to believe that this community was exactly what she needed.

and i think SPOP could have pulled something like this off, especially with Catra. if they really wanted us to believe that Catra felt guilty about her actions, they could have gone a more interesting route. i mentioned this in a previous post but instead of Horde Prime chipping Catra, they could have shown him manipulate her and promise her that she can be absolved of all her sins if she joined him. instead of being all like “teehee i know you have a crush on adora, you gay kitty”, they could have shown him feed on her insecurities and loneliness, and promise her a happier future of she joined him, playing on her need for validation and affection.

and in a moment of desperation, Catra believes him. she has lost everyone at this point, so she accepts what little comfort is offered to her. and then it’s the writers’ choice whether to redeem Catra by having her come to the realization that worshipping a genocidal tyrant with a god complex is actually not going to help her become a better person, and that she was just repressing her guilt and convincing herself that this is the best option; or to have her stay and face a tragic ending of sorts. either way, i think it would have been better than what we got.

i know that Nate apparently struggled with religious trauma and guilt (according to a few posts i saw, at least) and i’m not trying to say that i know his experience better than he does. i just think the execution with Horde Prime was really off, and he was almost like a funny caricature of a cult leader, rather than a representation of an actual cult leader.

[marsixm]

i also sometimes need the space to be able to vent about the stuff thats happened in my personal life in the past couple years and am paranoid about people from the local community following me on here when i do not want them to

[katamarigender]

crushing a can against my forehead talking to this person grAH

[cosmics-beings]

i feel enough time has passed but i wanna discuss my negative thoughts on the tf es starscream episode but I'm too scared

[lloydfrontera]

mmgghh imagine julian having a zoe murphy from deh style breakdown as he tries to reconcile the brother he remembers, the one that abused him for years and years on end, that never brought him anything but pain, that would beat him up for the slightest provocation, with the one that meets him at the academy, the one that saved a city, the one that is working relentlessly to save their family from ruin, the one that defends him from bullies and tells him it was never his fault that others harassed him

just. julian getting to express the rage and confusion and conflicted emotions that would come with the person that abused him for years changing completely out of nowhere and turning into the older brother he'd always wanted.

so don't tell me i didn't have it right don't tell me it wasn't black and white after all you put me through don't say it wasn't true that you were not the monster that i knew

[mel-street]

just your friendly reminder that loki was actually an amazing disney + marvel show and the sylkie vs lokius ship war and ethical debate on the internet distracted from the gorgeous visuals + score + acting + actually engaging plotline 

[pepprs]

also the favoritism thing is still making me so fucking mad and insane btw. im not jealous / resentful of my brother bc he deserves her love and is also burdened in his own ways by it and bc i think my drama w my mom has shaped my life in profound ways and given me friends i cherish and i would never trade any of that for the world but jesus fucking christ. why do i have to beg you to interact with me like a mother. why do i have to talk to me at all beyond asking me to do you 847439473 favors a day. why do i have to beg you to take an interest in my life and apologize when you hurt me and be nurturing and perceptive for once in your fucking life. like it hurts to hear her asking him about his classes and whatever bc she didn’t think i was stressed out w school but i had to talk to a ****** hotline last decemver when i couldn’t take it anymore and my mental health was crashing and burning and it doesn’t even fucking matter to her at all and she’s going to get him the nice gifts and throw him the nice parties and whatever because she hates me and my sister for… and let me get this straight… being complicated and anxious and depressed and also girls. lol!

[pizzabookbuying]

there are so many ‘best’ AUs and the ones I label as they best definitely change according to my mood but right now the BEST kind is the kind where the AU reveals that in different circumstances the two characters end up in completely opposite roles in their dynamic because the SOULMATISM of it all—the realization that these people respond EXACTLY the same way to things—THATS EVERYTHING TO ME RIGHT NOW

[neverendingford]

.

[misfortunegirl]

anyone who is inlove with me 👉👈

[dragonairice]

Ignore the tags this is a vent post. I just need to get this out somewhere that's not private

[wilwheaton]

In a new interview with the New Yorker ahead of his 70th birthday on Monday, the comedian explained his theory about why there’s no “funny stuff” to watch on TV anymore. “Nothing really affects comedy,” he said, “People always need it. They need it so badly and they don’t get it.” Instead of getting sitcoms like M*A*S*H, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and All in the Family, audiences miss out, he said, as a “result of the extreme left and P.C. crap, and people worrying so much about offending other people.” [...] A look back at some of his earlier comments on a similar subject adds some context, if not clarity. In 2015, Seinfeld sat down for an episode of The Herd with Colin Cowherd podcast, where he explained his aversion to performing stand-up on college campuses. “I don’t play colleges, but I hear a lot of people tell me, ‘Don't go near colleges. They’re so PC,’” he said on the show. After giving an example of his teenage daughter using the word “sexist,” he concluded that young people “just want to use these words: ‘That’s racist’; 'That’s sexist’; ‘That’s prejudice.’ They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Jerry Seinfeld Draws Right-Wing Praise for Comments on ‘Extreme Left’

This is such a bummer. Tell me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer without telling me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer.

It’s interesting to me that he says these legendary sit-coms, none of which were cruel, punching down, or hurtful, but were actually satirizing power, celebrating women, changing societal norms through representation, and using comedy to do it all, wouldn’t exist if “the extreme left” had anything to do with it.

Umm. Who does he think created these shows? And is he really that ignorant? Has this guy never read a single interview with Norman Lear? Or literally anyone in the cast of Mary Tyler Moore? I mean. Come on, man!

Teenagers and college students don’t know what they’re talking about when they tell a privileged, entitled, multimillionaire Boomer that his “jokes” can be hurtful, and maybe he could use his tremendous talent to do comedy that is just as funny without being hurtful. Okay. Got it. Keep saying that, and see how far it gets you, buddy.

Hey, Jerry Seinfeld: when blue checks on Twitter are celebrating you being a dick, it’s not because you’re so funny and such a brilliant comic; it’s because they love how you’re validating what garbage they are. You can’t see that, or don’t care, and that’s such a huge bummer.