#it’s me i’m the rococo girl

[maluceh]

Rococo girl

[museenkuss]

Recently, having had to interact with (certain not all of course etc etc) BA students has made me want to reconsider my plans of becoming a prof. Not sure I’d be able to handle the pretentious edginess gracefully.

[omgthatdress]

A doll version of Felicity’s best friend, Elizabeth, was released in 2005, along with her own book, Very Funny, Elizabeth! Immediately, there was controversy because in the classic books, Elizabeth had dark hair and eyes, and now, suddenly, the doll and book Elizabeth is blonde. The official reason was that they wanted to create more of a difference between Elizabeth and Felicity, but there was speculation that is was either done to match the actress in the movie, or that it was an act of Barbie-fication.

I’ve read some reviews of the dress lamenting the fact that it’s a very bright Barbie pink, but, the thing is.... pink was a very popular color in the 1770s:

So I’m not gonna knock it for being the wrong color. What DOES bug me, however is the shot silk. It’s made by having warp fibers of one color and weft fibers of another, and it creates that shimmery, color-changing effect. In all my years of looking at historical fashion online, I haven’t found any extant examples of a rococo-era dress made of shot silk. HOWEVER, after much scouring of Pinterest, I DID manage to find a few examples of portraits where the subject appears to be wearing shot silk:

So I’m not sure about the accuracy. It wasn’t super common but it wasn’t unheard of.

In the original Felicity books, it is sort of hinted at that Elizabeth’s family is wealthier than Felicity’s, but in the movie and Very Funny, Elizabeth! it’s made pretty explicit. The story revolved around Annabelle (UGH, Annabelle was the worst!) getting engaged to an English nobleman. Elizabeth wears her pink dress to the engagement party. So again, it makes sense for Elizabeth to be wearing a fine dress with her fancy accessories:

Giving a ten-year-old girl a pearl necklace and diamond earrings, the Coles had to have been loaded. Before the invention of cultured pearls, the only way to get pearls was for them to be formed naturally, and natural pearls are RARE!

The fan is a type of fan called a brisé fan, usually made out of ivory, horn, or shell, and they were more typical of the 19th century:

(ca. 1810-1820)

While they were more common later on, most 1770s fans were made of paper, which would probably make for a pretty flimsy toy, so I can see why they would have gone for the brisé style.

[prettywarriors]

Mini Mahou March Year 4 Week 1

Hey everyone and welcome to the third week of Mini Mahou March! You can find the main post for the event here X.

The Prompt for the week of March 2nd-8th is…

Hime Lolita Phantom Thief/Kaitou!

The sub-genre of magical girls that needs more love, the phantom thief has a long history of non-magical girl entries such as Lupin and Magic Kaitou. MGs include Shadow Lady, Saint Tail, Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne, and the recent Phantomirage.

Magical girl Kaitou often steal with good purpose- returning stolen goods like Saint Tail, or exorcising demons like Jeanne. With a much smaller pool of inspiration to draw from, there is very little consistency in designs for these characters, although they always have a way to make a quick escape. They often leave behind a calling card, sometimes as a form of cheeky flirting with their officer rival.

Hime Lolita, or Princess Lolita. If you know magical girls you probably know Lolita fashion- Rococo inspired, distinct silhouette, frilly and feminine. Hime lolita is extra frilly and a bit more mature with a lighter color pallet.

I’m only looking for a visual character design, something as simple as a single fullish-body picture, but you are more than welcome to go as wild as you want with trinkets, backstory, information, alt outfits, all that good stuff. Also I say girl but girl boy nb other as long as it’s a magical humanoid gender be damned, thumbs up. (Also nothing 18+ please. Your characters can be, just not your art for this)

Make your post and tag me before end of day March 8th (11.59EST) and I will be re-blogging participants here next Sunday/early Monday, with everything tagged Mini Mahou March.

Saint Tail uses stage magic to distract while stealing stolen goods and returning them to their proper owner while leaving calling cards for her crush who is the detective trying to catch her. Shadow Lady uses a magic eye shadow pallet to transform into different forms depending on the color, and steals, well, for fun until the plot happens, while the local cop is in love with her thief form. Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne transforms with assistance from her mascot to remove demons from pieces of art which makes the art disappears, and her rival is transformed boy who wants to stop her (and her best friend is the obligatory cop) D.N.Angel is the long accept magical boy, and he transforms into his older alter ego to steal magical artifacts made by the ancestor of the obligatory cop who has his own magical alter ego and there’s a love square. 

So uh. Complicated romances & police enemies with possible overlap in those categories, transformations range from ‘new dress’ to ‘new body’, stealing is good sometimes. It’s not my fault there aren’t more Kaitou MGs we deserve this sub-genre c’mon Toei. Pierrot? Anyway there’s always non magical girl kaitou like Skye from Harvest Moon or whatever is happening in Persona 5. Masks are generally not a magical girl thing beyond proto-senshi and a couple of weirder male-target series, but it is a thief thing so your call.

Robin Hood Lolita? Scarlet Pimpernel but Frilly? How many weird thief tools is she hiding under her big skirt? Are the ribbons removable to use as getaway ropes? How fancy is that kaitou mask? Maybe some wings- with bows?

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Yet another repost. This was for @chaotic-nick's Zeke Week from last year! [ SYNOPSIS ] An art museum date takes a slutty turn. And it's fucking sundress season™️. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.8k [ CONTENT ] Public sex, exhibitionism, finger sucking, nipple play, biting, rough sex, hair pulling, impact play (spanking), creampie, pet names (pretty girl). Not beta read.

“Check it out,” you said smugly. “Another nondescript Roman goddess.”

You stood, arms crossed, in front of an 18th century statue from somewhere in France. It was made of weathered, white marble. Undeniably beautiful, but it was the sixth statue you crossed paths with that looked like that. Each with the same expression, only differentiated by accessories like deer and apples.

“You’re not impressed?” Zeke asked.

You could barely mask your whiny tone. “Of course I’m impressed. I’m just bored.”

“It was your idea to come here,” he teased, playfully hip checking you.

“I know. I know,” you sighed. “Are you riveted by all of this?”

“Not really, no.”

You looked him up and down, gazing at his broad shoulders. He was wearing a pale blue chambray button-down with the sleeves rolled up. It was haphazardly tucked into a pair of black, straight leg jeans. The denim hugged his long, toned legs. Zeke was significantly more intriguing than any statue.

“You know what would be riveting?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Fucking me stupid. Right here, right now.”

Zeke’s grey eyes widened and he nervously cleared his throat. Almost as if he was trying to cover up what you had suggested even though it was obviously too late. You had already put the notion out in the atmosphere.

“There’s people,” he choked out.

“I know. Isn’t that exciting?”

“That is not the first word I would use—”

“Hush,” you said, holding your finger to his lips. “Have you ever fucked in public?”

“No. I was a virgin when I met you. You know the full extent of my sexual history.”

“Then let me be your first public fuck. I'm a perfect candidate. C’mon. You know I’d never lead you astray.”

His cheeks were pink, clearly titillated by your suggestion. You reached up and stroked his freshly shaven cheek.

“You’re thinkin’ about it.”

“What’s your point?” he asked, scratching the back of his ear.

“Live a little,” you said, mirroring his previous hip check.

Zeke looked around, eyes full of trepidation. You could tell he was weighing his options. You found yourself unconsciously crossing your fingers. Your craving for his cock felt innate and primal.

“Alright,” he said, draping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “But not here. Let’s go a little deeper in and find somewhere with less foot traffic.”

You grinned like an eager idiot, more than happy to compromise. The two of you strolled down the hall passing by exhibits on grandiose Rococo paintings and grotesque medieval depictions of Christ languishing on the cross. You walked to the furthest exhibit on Italian Mannerist art. The walls were painted a deep navy and the lighting was low and warm. Zeke paused to look at a painting of a swan-like, sinewy woman flanked by the most bizarre looking angels you had ever seen. You latched onto his wrist and pulled him into a corner.

“Is this better? Do you feel safer?”

“I didn’t feel unsafe before,” he scoffed. “I just didn’t want to get caught with my dick out. That’d be humiliating.”

“Or hot.”

“Maybe to you. It’s not your dick.”

“Yes, it is,” you said, palming his semi-hard cock.

Zeke swallowed hard. “I know,” he admitted.

“You know what?” you asked, playing coy.

His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close to his body. He radiated warmth.

“That my dick belongs to you… and only you,” he murmured as he slipped his hand under your dress. He cupped your ass with his rough palm.

You started to unbutton his jeans while gazing into his grey eyes, his pupils dark and dilated. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. As confident as you were, there was still a nervousness that left your stomach fluttering. You didn’t hate it though. It reminded you that this was exciting, that this was new and risky. You quickly glanced over your shoulder making sure no one has slipped in to look at paintings of overgrown Christ Children. To your utter pleasure, Zeke and you were the only souls around.

“Such a smart boy.”

You reached up and cradled Zeke’s face in your hands. He gave you a small smile before tenderly kissing you. His lips were soft as they brushed up against yours. His movements were small and controlled, and you struggled to stay on his level. You didn’t want tenderness, not now. Now was the time to embrace ferality. To fuck like debauched beasts.

You pressed your crotch up against him and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Hey!”

You shut him up by kissing him with the intensity you craved. Your tongue hungrily sought out his. You couldn’t help but moan a little as your cunt rubbed up against his jeans. Your underwear did little to subdue the friction.

Zeke’s hand crept up your back before stopping at the base of your skull. His fingers threaded through your hair. He held his hand there for a moment, luring you into a relaxed state. It wasn’t particularly hard to do. You were so focused on your wet cunt grinding up against his thigh. He waited a few seconds and then gave your hair a tug. You squealed with delight.

“So you want it rough, huh?”

“Yes,” you moaned, voice teeming with desperation.

He unfastened the first few buttons of your dress, exposing your chest. He nipped at your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses down your sternum. He pulled your dress down and nibbled the soft flesh of your breast. You groaned as he caught your nipple in between his teeth.

Zeke swirled his tongue around your nipple. One of his hands was still twisted up in your hair, pulling your head back. His other was pressed against the small of your back. You stared upward, eyes glazing over as he sucked on your breast. You mindlessly rutted against his thigh. Your underwear were soaked.

“Want me to fuck your pussy, pretty girl?” he asked, his breath hot against your breast.

“Mhm,” you replied feebly.

He released your hair from his death grip.

“Turn around.”

You turned around and faced the exhibit. Zeke positioned himself behind you and lifted up your dress. He peeled off your underwear, tossing them out of sight. He pressed his thick cock up against your bare cunt. You let out a little whimper as he dragged the tip along your folds, teasing you.

He reached around and gently grabbed you by the throat.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yes!” you cried out in exasperation.

You waited for Zeke to slip his cock inside you, but for whatever reason he was hesitating.

“What’s wrong?”

Nothing, but silence.

“Are you nervous?”

“... No,” he said gruffly.

“You can do it, champ,” you snickered.

He let out an amused exhale and planted a kiss on the back of your head. He stroked your neck with his calloused thumb. You hummed blissfully.

Zeke guided his cock into your cunt. Your knees grew weak as it filled you up, stretching out your sensitive flesh. He groaned as his tender cocktip grazed your cervix. You tightened around his length, relishing in yet another one of his pained groans.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he bottomed out.

Your head grew fuzzy with pleasure. Everything was obscured by a sensuous haze. If it weren’t for Zeke’s hand around your neck, you might’ve fallen to the floor. Your body but a mere limp noodle. He must have known your grip on reality was tenuous at best because he slipped his arm around you and up your dress. He placed his palm on your lower stomach, letting his rough fingers play with your clit.

You twisted your hips slightly as he held you in place. You felt like you would burst if he continued to trap you on his cock.

“Zeke,” you whined.

“What?” he asked, playing dumb.

You huffed and muttered a few indecipherable swear words. Taking pity on you, Zeke began to thrust. The first torpedoed his cock into your cervix, a startling yet welcome sensation.

“F—fuck,” you whimpered.

He massaged your clit with the pad of his thumb.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he said through a clenched jaw.

“Yeah,” you mumbled mindlessly.

Your reply bore no weight, no meaning. Your only concerns were coming and making sure a family of tourists didn’t stumble upon the two of you.

He stopped rubbing your clit and lifted your dress up further, exposing your bare ass. He gave it a hard spank, sending a jolt throughout your body. Your skin felt electric. You were burning up. 

Zeke’s thrusts grew sloppy and wild, showing little mercy on your cunt. His breathing grew faster by the second. You arched your back as he pounded his cock into you.

“Gonna… come,” he groaned.

You started to play with your aching clit as Zeke fucked a stream of cum into your cunt. In his usual form, he babbled your name as he came, moaning and rambling about how tight your pussy felt and how good you were at taking his cock.

His praise brought you closer to the edge, gradually breaking you down. He was able to find a rhythm once more now that the urgency of his orgasm was behind him. His thrusts were deep and methodical.

“That feel good?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you recited like a prayer.

He brushed your hand aside and massaged your clit for you. The exhibit was overcome by the sounds of your cum-filled cunt getting fucked.  You tried to swallow your moans, but it was losing battle. Every so often one would escape, shrill and pained. Zeke struggled to stifle his laughter anytime one was let loose.

“Not too loud,” he whispered in your ear.

“I can’t he—help it.”

He gracelessly forced three of his fingers in your mouth to shut you up. If you weren’t so close to coming you would have bit down on them.

Your body shuddered and your vision blurred, the whole room seemingly melted away into nothingness. You came so hard you felt as if your body was deteriorating in Zeke’s arms.

“You were right,” he purred, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

“About?” you asked breathily.

“About you being the perfect person to do this with,” he gushed.

He helped you fix your dress, fastening the buttons and smoothing out its hem. Neither of you could find your underwear and they were ultimately left behind. On your way out of the exhibit a gaggle of pastel-haired, old women stopped the two of you, asking you inane questions about the museum under the assumption that you two worked there. Your heightened anxiety made an awkward encounter, an excruciating one. Zeke and you politely blew them off; you had little to no desire to talk to anyone as warm cum dripped down the inside of your thigh.

[ranchycowgirllover]

Alright so I made a Stella Re-Design, this post ‘ill be kinda long cuz I wanna explain things and such

My main problems with this design are 1- Details that are unneeded that lead to inconvenience in the animation department (like seriously watch scenes with her and focus on her lashes) 2- This outfit isn’t very regal, I’m guessing the bottom of the dress is supposed to resemble feathers idk it just doesn’t look good.

Alright so we have that out of the way, I have made a few different possible re designs. You’ll see the one I prefer at the end.

This one I tried to keep more in line with the original pink princess theme. Simplified the dress and hair (I imagine that her hair can fluff up when she’s angry) and I replaced the dark purple with a maroon. I also made her hair white. This way the only purple is her make up which should cause you to look at her face more.

This one is a more evil Queen inspired Stella, used the purple as a main dress color, I gave her green/blue eyes and grey hair which she had in the pilot. The eyes are help tell her apart from her husband, and the hair change is to make her look older and more regal. I changed the style of dress now she looks less little girl costume princess. (No hate to princess peach)

This is a younger Stella design that I did. My canon is that she was dressed this way as to appeal more to Stolas.

Now this is the final design that I chose. The purple is for royalty, I did away with the dark purple as to make her look less threatening. And the dress is rococo era inspired just because I those dresses no real reason

I also did a design for her brother.

His changes were simplify his outfit, and the other stuff like his hair were changed to match his redesigned sister

Alright so that’s all the art. The rest of the this is just going to be me ranting and raving about her character.

Okay so I think we should acknowledge how fucked Stella’s situation is. She’s in an arranged marriage and her only purpose in hells society was to give birth to an heir.

Stolas and her brother are shown to have magic powers, and Stolas we know he has princely duty’s so we can assume the same for her brother. Stella doesn’t have any of these she was meant to be a baby a maker. Even her name Stella compliments Stolas’s role as star prince or whatever.

Now in the first episode of season 2 we have Stella making fun of her husband how he’s bad in bed and how she’s glad she doesn’t have to fuck him because she’s given birth. I think this is Viv’s attempt at making this situation seem less fucked up.

I don’t even know it just makes me really uncomfortable that this very feminine woman in a shitty situation is being vilified. Like if I was in Stella’s situation I’d probably have anger issues too. I’m just so tired of being told that feminine outrage and displays of anger make us monstrous bitches.

Now obviously Stolas being forced into a loveless marriage also sucks and is an awful situation for him too. But he’s not that much better than Stella. Both are shown to be physically abusive to the castle staff, and Stella for all her faults isn’t black mailing someone into sex.

Now having two shitty people wouldn’t bother me if the narrative didn’t bend over backwards to make Stolas seem like such good guy, just an uwu gay bean. His wife is SO mean she won’t let the gay people be happy 🥺. Also painting abusers as cartoonishly evil monsters does a disservice to people who have been abused is all I’m saying.

Anyways I’ll hopefully have a Stolas Redesign up next

Bye now

[strawberryteabunny]

for the lolita fashion ask: 1, 11, 19 💗

Thank you for the asks!! ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ꒱ྀིა

1: how and when did you first get introduced to the fashion?

I don’t know how I first learned lolita existed- probably through anime tbh- but I remember getting into it through 2 things; I was browsing Pinterest for historical costuming ideas and I kept seeing these Rococo and Victorian dresses, except they were super short for ballgowns which really confused me (I didn’t figure out that they were lolita but I thought they were so pretty) and second- I saw a girl wearing lolita on my college campus! I wore casual jfashion at the time (Liz Lisa, etc) but even though I knew what lolita was it felt super out of reach and like something only girls in Japan could wear. But there she was, in real life! It was a magical moment. I wish I could remember what exactly she was wearing or that I’d gotten a chance to meet her again but she completely changed my life! I put two and two together and realized I could wear these Victorian-esque dresses myself 🥰

11: what's one item you have that you would never sell?

This is tough, I have a lot of things I really love… I think probably my IW Renoir OP though. It’s definitely the dress I wear the most (it layers really well with like half my closet too..) and unlike a lot of other pieces I love I wouldn’t be able to sell it for a lot of money either.

Like, I would never want to sell my usakumya or my Milky Chan JSK but if I was in a bind financially they could be worth a couple hundred dollars each so if I had to it would make the most sense yknow?

I’d never want to sell my parasol either as it was a gift from my mom <3 and I have a couple vintage Gunne Sax pieces I’d never sell because with how popular the brand has gotten I’d never be able to replace them 😅 and I wear my Gunne blouses constantly too…

19: do you remember the first dress you ever saw? do you still like it?

Angelic Pretty’s Pompadour OP! I remember coming across it and not even realizing it was lolita, just thinking ‘huh someone made a version of Mme de Pompadour’s gown but they cut it so short, I wonder why’ haha. I’d love to own this dress! I’m a huge fan of the original painting and I think the color combo and design is so pretty. It would be a really nice convention/fancy tea party piece.

[lilac-gold]

mari: What’s up guys? I’m back. sunny: What the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die. mari: Death is a social construct.

aubrey: So what’s for dinner? sunny, staring at the food he just burnt: Regret.

kim: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! vance: Really? Name one law kim: Don't kill people? vance: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

sunny: Bye basil! Bye kel! Bye mari! Bye hero! Bye aubrey! Bye basil! aubrey: You said ‘bye basil’ twice. sunny: I like basil.

sunny: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. aubrey: ... Your what? sunny: My friends. kel: Is he saying “friends”? aubrey: I think he'd being sarcastic. basil: No, no, no, this is delirium, he'd cracked from being awake all night. Hey, sunny! All of your friends are in this room. sunny: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

aubrey: Nothing in life is free. mikhael: Love is free! angel: Adventure is free. charlene: Knowledge is free. kim: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

mari: Are we really going to let aubrey keep basil? hero: We kept aubrey.

aubrey: Anyone d- sunny: Depressed? hero: Drained? kel: Dumb? basil: Disliked? aubrey: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

mikhael: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?! vance: Several traffic violations. aubrey: Three counts of resisting arrest. angel: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. kim: Also, that’s not our car.

spaceboy: What does 'take out' mean? unbread twins: Food. rococo: Dating slime girls: Murder sweetheart: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

mikhael: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited angel: If? kim: Great, the only party I’ve ever been invited to and he might not even die.

spaceboy: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night. steve: You were flirting with rococo. spaceboy: So what? He's my boyfriend. steve: You asked him if he was single. spaceboy: steve: And then you cried when he said he wasn't.

[ccthewriter]

CC's New Watch Ranking 2022: #2 - The Young Girls of Rochefort

1967, dir. Jacques Demy

Every year on Letterboxd, I make a list of the 100 best films I’ve seen for the first time. It’s a fun way to compare movies separated in time, genre, and country of origin, and helps me keep track of what I’m watching! This is a series of posts about my Top 10.

This is the pinnacle of cinematic joy. No other film contains such happiness, such leaping mirth, such radiant sunshine. This is a glass of lemonade at the height of spring; this is a giggling kiss given behind a carnival. Every few days I turn to my wife and scream-sing “Nous sommes deux soeurs jumelles! Nées sous le signe des Gémeaux!” and it never fails to make us laugh. You’ll find this year’s ranking contains a lot of serious films, many of which touch on the darker elements of our lives. Les Demoiselles de Rochefort stands in stark contrast as a true comedy in the classical sense, concerned only with love and laughter. It is the best musical ever committed to film. 

Young Girls follows a pair of twins looking for love. Their mother runs a cafe in the town square, where a caravan of performers have just arrived to set up a carnival. They dance around this space as they seek romance, their soulmates passing through and barely missing them each time. It’s a wonderful comedy of errors, interspersed with the greatest musical numbers you’ve ever seen. 

I want to express my affection for this movie with a high-pitched squeal, because every element is perfect. But I’ll try to isolate what’s working here. The story is simple and classical. The visual language is divine. It begins with a very long shot of the caravan traveling over a bridge to arrive in town. The lingering intro makes viewers feel transported into Rochefort, which becomes less of a real city and more of a fairytale kingdom. The set design and costuming is brilliant, and is displayed with a relatively still camera that will rotate to view its subject, but rarely go dutch or do anything else fancy. The stillness makes the contents of the frame shine. 

There’s some Wes Anderson levels of symmetry and color at play here, too. The sisters are coded in yellow and pink, and the entire world is tinted to match them. They pass through the Frenchest, most beautiful locations imaginable. An antique store with rococo furnishing and white marble. Little shops made of wood and glass. Cobblestone alleys lined with bright plaster. Truly, every detail, from top to bottom, is made with cinematic beauty and grace. And the music! It soars, it's jazzy, it's a little funky, it's just the best you could imagine.

I’m finding myself at a loss for words! I don’t know what else to say other than this is good - really, really, really good. No movie embodies the freeing feeling of love better. There’s a production history I don’t know about and couldn’t begin to describe. Catherine Deneuve is incredible, but we’ll spend more time talking about her very soon. If you find yourself sad and looking for something to cheer you up, this film is it. Treat yourself to the freedom of the soul this film can instill. You deserve it. When we think of building a better world, we should focus on making it feel like this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you made it this far why don’t you give me a follow on Letterboxd, where I post reviews and keep obsessive track of all the movies I watch. Feel free to drop a line if you checked this movie out and want to share your thoughts!

[majestydeerakuma]

I now wanna attempt to write backstories for other characters aside from Spaceboy

Pretty much Sweetheart, Unbread Twins, Mr. Jawsum and The Slime Girls

Spaceboy has the most context to offer since he existed before OMORI for Jami Lynne’s Space Boyfriend (if you have no idea what I’m talking about, search up “space boyfriend bug spray never give up” and an image of a red haired boy in green with a visor on and a young white haired boy in pink should come up, that’s it (Spaceboy is the red haired one while the white haired one is Little Jack).

Now, as for the others, Unbread Twins will probably be the shortest in terms of backstory despite me headcanoning them to be the oldest characters by age alongside Humphrey

Slime Girls, I’m gonna have to get a bit creative for them since there isn’t much in Faraway Town given about them aside from a single CD

Mr. Jawsum, again, I’m gonna have to get a bit creative since he was inspired by the shark in the blackjack game on Sunny’s Computer

Sweetheart will probably be the easiest aside from Spaceboy since she is given a bit more.

• First off, it’s mentioned by Kel she has movies. She might even have her own TV series for all we could know.

•I speculate that she was probably released in the 50s since (1): Kel says Sweetheart and Spaceboy are vintage (despite me speculating Spaceboy most likely releasing in 1979 which is because of a song name in OMORI whilst climbing the ladder to Otherworld). (2): The song that plays when Spaceboy proposes to Sweetheart has 50s in the title of the song.

•Sweetheart has definitely been around long enough to have plushies and whatnot

•When creating her backstory, my main AU (Chaosspace) and a Sweetheart centered AU will portray it differently (since Sweetheart does have some backstory details thanks to Rococo and it gives some insight on Sweetheart)

•Sweetheart, by the Keeper in her castle mentions that she was dirt poor when she came to him and she always wanted more

As for the other characters, I’ll have to get really creative

Perhaps I’ll make posts for each of the mentioned characters (including Spaceboy) with their backstories (though I may keep some things for myself and things may change over time but that’s alright. That also probably means I’ll add some more stuff to Rococo too since him and Sweetheart’s backstories are somewhat connected).

[aliceb6]

Wizard TV Show I Don’t Know The Name Of

Hello, can anyone help me find this show?

This took place in colonial times I believe, a lot of the characters had powdered wigs. It was all live action, and British I believe. At the very least it was supposed to be set in Britain. It might’ve been on BBC or PBS, or Masterpiece.

There were these two wizards: one was old and worked for the British government I think, the other was young and had a wife and wanted magic to be widespread.

The young one wrote a book on magic and in one scene the old one made all of the books disappear with a spell. I’m going to call them Old Wiz and Wiz Jr. respectively, I’ll be giving everyone nicknames so it doesn’t get confusing.

Scenes and plot points I remember, in poor chronological order:

Old Wiz made a fake galleon out of water to trick the French.

Evil Fairy Man who dressed in Rococo fashion (I think) had the hots for this girl-whom I’ll call Eliza. Asshole Fairy Man (AFM) took her away by night to dance with him in a ballroom, and by day returned her. Eliza was unwilling to participate and unable to speak about her experiences. She was called mad and was confined to her bed via leather straps.

There was this African English butler (I’ll call him Butler) to the aging King, Butler was considering killing the King to become the King himself.

AFM tries to make Butler kill the king. He goes on about how Butler has no name and Butler’s like “yes I do it’s Butler!” And AFM shows him a memory of his birth, where he is getting separated from his mother as a newborn, Fairy is like “here’s the part where she says your name,” and the mother is crying and thus doesn’t say his name. Butler is like “damn.”

There was this old guy with a long beard that was kind of a dick. On his body was tattooed a bunch of prophecies.

AFM convinces Butler to hang prophecy guy. AFM says roughly “look there, it says your gonna be king.” I don’t think it did say that.

Old Wiz is called in by Eliza’s parents to “cure her madness”, she is not happy about this and yells roughly “I don’t have any freedom when I’m asleep, can I not have it when I’m awake?”

Wiz Jr’s wife (I’ll just call her Beth) gets stolen by AFM. Unlike Eliza she does not get returned during the day. Beth is also hypnotized, which does not happen to Eliza for some reason?

Since Eliza cannot share her experiences she makes a tapestry. Wiz Jr comes over, wondering where Beth is and then he sees the tapestry and realizes everything. AFM’s existence, Eliza and Beth dancing with him, not being able to talk about it. It was one of the most satisfying scenes of the show.

In the ballroom AFM asks which of the gals wants to dance with him (thereby being trapped forever probably), hypnotized Beth is about to say yes when Eliza steps in and takes her place. What a Chad. Wiz Jr finds the ballroom and manages to dance with Beth who does not recognize him. This makes AFM very mad.

Before Old Wiz and Wiz Jr. confront AFM they fight a bit. Wiz Jr. asks Old Wiz to whip out his most powerful spell, Old Wiz conjures a tiny rain cloud which rains on his head while Wiz Jr. laughs.

[allwritey-roo]

A Match made in...well...(part 1)

A/N: A Lurch x OC fic. Love that guy. I’m thinking slowburn as these two get to know eachother. The second part will be uploaded soon as I write it. 

Jane lounged on a spread of multicolored blankets and pillows, bottle of wine to her left on the floor and graduation cap still on her head. Her friend and roommate, Abbey, stood across the room from her, her tall frame facing her subject, Jane. The painting was coming together nicely, with the evening sun peeking through the sheer purple glittered curtains and contrasted with warm yellow lights that crisscrossed the room’s ceiling. Her current muse contrasted the warm ambience with her frown, downturned eyes, biting her lip in worry.

Like a baroque painting...too bad we can’t do rococo. Abbey thought.

The two had just graduated, Abbey with summa cum laude and Jane with cum laude, the week prior and were grappling with what to do post-graduation. Abbey had something already in the works. She was presenting a collection of her multi-media art featuring the impact of climate change on poor and rural communities. She was currently working on another collection of artworks on the increasing impossibility of younger generations to secure the same prosperous future of previous generations. Jane had almost completed a book on folklore in the American south, mainly the development of ghost stories.

Abbey’s muse was scouring newspapers in a last-ditch effort to find affordable housing in a new area to study while she continued her post-graduate studies in folklore. Jane really needed a second pair of eyes to go over her work. She needed an editor. More than that, she was worried about getting published.

Beyond that, nothing was certain.

Not for either of them.

Jane tossed the newspaper to the side and reached for the wine bottle. “I thought finishing my bachelor’s degree requirements was supposed to make me feel some sense of…accomplishment.” Her roommate, standing at an easel, pushed back her dark curly hair with a headband and frowned at Jane, “Don’t move around so much! I’m trying to capture this existential crisis.”

“I’m serious, Abbey!”

“So am I, Jane!” Abbey’s expression turned to a serious look, “Getting that bachelor’s was just the first step, babe. Next step is getting out there.”

Jane laid her head face down on the pillow, “Easy for you to say, you already have two exhibits lined up.”

Abbey placed her hands on her hips, “I do not know how to put this to you any plainer than I have in the past. You have to put yourself out there! You probably don’t feel any sense of achievement because you’ve holed yourself up in here---”

“I have spent plenty of time in the library!” Jane interrupted.

Abbey rolled her eyes, “The point,” Abbey continued, “I am trying to make is you don’t feel accomplished because you’ve kept everything to yourself! Your work, your feelings, your experiences. You have great potential; you have written so many papers already, and your book is already almost finished. You just need actually put what you’ve finished out in the field.”

Jane sighed, “You’ve seen my work.”

Abbey groaned, “Girl, I’m not a publisher! The most I can do is encourage you and you need to do the rest yourself.”

Jane took a hearty swig of her wine and set the glass and paper down, her eyes turned down and about to burst with tears.

Abbey set her palette down and sat next to her friend on the bed, “Jane, I love you, and that is why I am speaking so frankly. Believe me when I tell you to put yourself out there. You’re going to get rejected lots of times, and I will be here to catch you. So will your brother. You have people in your corner, but you need to be there for you too.”

Jane leaned into her friend, “I know you will…”

Abbey wrapped her arms around Jane, “Besides…I know it’s difficult, but try and think back to all the hard work you put into getting your degree! You put in all that time and work into your degree! Don’t think you didn’t get the most out of it! You absolutely should feel accomplished for all your hard work. Know that you can do it again.”

Jane craned her neck to look at Abbey, “Okay. One favor though. Just to break that barrier.” Abbey nodded, “Name it.”

Jane pulled her laptop from the side table, opened it, and pushed it into Abbey’s hands, “Can you hit, “Apply” for me?”

Abbey looked over the screen and noticed the application was for a job with “Frump Publishers.”

Abbey immediately hit the button.

“You are all set!”

Jane exhaled nervously, eyeing her phone already anticipating a call. Sensing this, Abbey pulled her friend up and off the bed, and led her to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s do something productive and cook. You’re getting moody.”

Jane scoffed and pulled out bell peppers, jalapeños, and onions to chop while Abbey worked on the chicken. Chicken, peppers, and rice was their go-to dish for many occasions. Abbey used what she called a “secret ingredient” that Jane had never managed to pin down.

Searing the chicken, Abbey spoke to Jane from over her shoulder, “Now tell me about this fellowship I signed you up for.”

“Well, the listing said they wanted a ghost writer…”

“Oh you can do that! Why do you sound so unsure?” Jane sauteed the peppers and onions, “The listing was a little…strange.”

Abbey took the vegetable mix from Jane and stirred it with the rice, “Strange how? You know you don’t have to take it.”

“No, not like that. The listing was legit…but…I read the reviews for this employer and they seem eccentric. Completely accepting and encouraging for their employees and partners, and they pay more than well enough for the job…but there were reviews that complained about the work environment including explosions, spells, and a possible haunting?”

Abbey seemed incredulous, “A haunting?”

She opened the laptop again to review said comments, “Huh…I don’t know, these aren’t written very well. Weird mix compared to the other reviews by recent college graduates…up to you, on whether or not to try it out. But I say go for it.”

Jane smiled up at her, “Really?” Abbey smiled back, as she plated the food “Yeah, who else can say they’re writing for a ghost?”

The next morning, Jane woke to her phone blaring. Jolting awake, Jane lurched up and answered her phone. “Hello?”

“Ah, yes, good morning. Is this Miss Jane Rossetti?” The voice on the other end was soft-spoken.

Sensing this was a business call, Jane sat a little straighter and spoke more professionally, “Yes, good morning, this is her.”

The man on the other end continued, “Oh good, this is Alden Wright, calling on behalf of Frump Publishers—”

Jane jumped out of the bed and nearly dropped the phone before catching it.

“—are you still interested in the ghostwriting position with this publisher?” Jane paused before answering, losing her nerve, “Uh…well, yes, I am.”

A choked sound came through on the other end, “You are? And you read the reviews? Are you family?” Jane frowned at this and dropped her professional tone, becoming suspicious, “What do you mean? I read the reviews but figured they were bunk…”

What did he mean by “family”? What is up with Frump Publishers? Is it a front?

“Yes well, the family that owns the publishing company is very…hands on with the publishing and writing process. They do it all actually, and it is stationed in their home.” Alden Wright suddenly became very serious, “Miss Rossetti, with the utmost respect for you as a professional, let me stress upon you they are not normal. I have visited the house on many occasion and have been made to swordfight, tangled with a carnivorous plant, and been subjected to spells of various sorts by their matriarch. Now, I ask again, are you sure?”

Jane once again hesitated. This is…nuts…but…I am curious…

“Mr. Wright. I assure you I am still interested in the job. I cannot afford to be picky.”

Jane swore she heard the man mutter something about “Not knowing what she signed up for” before Alden returned full attention to the phone, “Very well, Miss Rossetti. Frump Publishers will send fare for you to cover travel expenses for an interview. Upon successful interview you will also receive money to cover all moving expenses. If needed, there is a…spare room.” “Spare room…like in their home?”

I was not expecting to stay in the family��s home but…to be honest I had been skimming multiple job listings before fully applying to them. Had to get into the groove of applying to multiple positions. “Yes, as I said, it is a family business and the family likes to keep a hand in family matters at all times. Especially as the writer for one of their family members.” “Wait,” Jane interrupted, everything else had sounded strange but this sounded normal, “What exactly is the ‘ghostwriter’ position here?”

“Oh, they thought they made it obvious. You will be writing a collection of biographies of past family members. Ghost here being…near literal.” Jane almost caught another offhand comment along the lines of, “I hope.”

Jane thought of backing out…but the words of Abbey to jump at opportunity and put herself out there came back to her. Besides…if ghosts “being near literal” was true…Jane believed the paranormal, but this seemed far-fetched. Ghosts or no, the family might have resources or networking opportunities to finish her own writing. “And this work will be published when completed?”

“Without a doubt.” For some reason, Alden Wright sounded exasperated.

Jane hummed and nodded. “I’ll do it.” If it was too difficult, too much to handle, she could always leave. But she was determined to at least try.

Wright continued, “Excellent. As I said, fare will be sent to cover all expenses. It is likely they will send their butler to wait for you at the airport and drive you.”

“Oh…what does he look like?”

“Believe me you’ll know.”

“Oh well, alright. Thank you, Mr. Wright for contacting me so quickly. Was there anything else they wanted to know before I travel there?”

“Oh no, Miss Rossetti, that will be all. They were enthusiastic to discover your application and writing experience.”

Jane beamed, “Thank you again, Mr. Wright. Have a good day.”

Mr. Wright returned the sentiment and Jane immediately called her brother to share the good news.

[federicodeleonardis]

Bill Viola at Milan’s Palazzo Reale

It is challenging to exercise one's polemical verve with a "great artist" (according to the definition of the exhibition's authors), because great is an adjective that is always debatable: great is Pontormo, great perhaps are, in BV's favorite subjects, de Hooch, ter Borch, certainly Vermeer and Rembrandt, and, in the exercise of their exclusive tool, Beuys, Warhol, Bela Tarr and certainly Carmelo Bene. But I didn’t mentioned the Dutch and Pontormo randomly, because the deference paid to them by BV is explicit (see the captions) as well as indubitable at a glance. And this makes the exhibition at Palazzo Reale perfect and its author, if not great, at least, very good. In fact, one of the indispensable tasks of an artist, of any self-respecting artist, is precisely to help look at art with new eyes, to revive it, to protect it from the multitude of idiots bombarding it from all sides. But there’s more: a skillful and undoubtedly very bold use of the favored medium: large-format video. Meanwhile, there is a characteristic that has been evident since his first works appeared on the scene (I’m thinking of the famous dive shot in slow motion and up close, exhibited at the Venice Biennale many years ago): I am talking about the slowness, the potential of slow motion, pushed to the extreme by new digital technologies.

I didn’t mention the Hungarian film-maker and the famous fathers of video, Warhol and Beuys, randomly: they not only preceded him in the use of slowness and the fixed frame (if you think about Chelsea Girls, 24Hours, the stillness of the German artist seated impassible in the foreground for 15 minutes) but also revealed the dysfunctions of Cinema through their works It is certainly a merit the fact that BV takes advantage of today’s last technical possibilities and means to improve his creations. Every artist should.

Then what leaves me unsatisfied?

Modern-day art shows a dangerous weakness precisely in its uncritical kneeling to last new technologies. BV rightly decides to pursue those obsessions that make up human spirituality, those that make us different from animals, such as the concept of life, birth, decay, death, the unexpected event, the act of praying, but at the same time and to his discredit he minimizes the contact with matter (in physical terms) (in this case, water and fire) to a merely digital expression. Is this the result of the limitation imposed by the digital means? Imperfection, vulgarity, the human evilness (so clear in an artist as Bela Tar); the love for detail, the beauty of dirtiness, so evident in Pelešjan’s work and, with a more than justified excess, in Carmelo Bene; the barochism, so important in the European culture from Borromini onward (toward which artists like Carmelo Bene and Beuys show great attention); all these things are completely absent in his work. Everything is perfect, the “painting” accurately portraits the memory of Visual Arts. Nevertheless, however unfair I may sound towards a very meaningful and communicative work such as BV’s, I would summarize with a Rococo line: "Perdrix, perdrix, toujours perdrix! Un peu de merde [s’il vous plait]” (my contribution to Louis XIV’s quote).

Bill Viola, Catherine’s Room, 2001 Color video polyptych on five LCD flat panel displays mounted on wall, 38x246x5,7 cm 18:39 minutes Performer: Weba Garretson Photo: Kira Perov © Bill Viola Studio

Bill Viola a Palazzo Reale di Milano 

E’ impegnativo esercitare la propria verve polemica con un “ grande artista” (secondo la definizione degli autori della mostra), perché grande è un aggettivo sempre discutibile: grande è Pontormo, grandi forse lo sono, nei soggetti prediletti da BV, de Hooch, ter Borch, certamente Vermeer e Rembrandt e, nell’esercizio del suo strumento esclusivo, lo sono Beuys, Warhol, Bela Tarr e certamente Carmelo Bene. Ma non ho citato gli olandesi e Pontormo a caso, perché l’ossequio tributato a costoro da BV è esplicito (v didascalie ) oltre che indubbio a colpo d’occhio. E questo rende la mostra a Palazzo Reale perfetta e il suo autore, se non grande, almeno bravo, molto bravo. Infatti uno dei compiti imprescindibili di un artista, di qualsiasi artista che si rispetti, è proprio quello di aiutare a guardare l’arte con occhi nuovi, a farla rivivere, a proteggerla dalla marea di cretini che la assediano da tutte le parti. Ma c’è di più: un uso sapiente e senza dubbio molto audace del mezzo prediletto: il video a grande formato. Intanto c’è da sottolineare una caratteristica evidente fin dalle sue prime opere comparse sulla scena (sto pensando al famoso tuffo ripreso al rallentatore e da vicino, esposto alla Biennale di Venezia molti anni fa): parlo della lentezza, delle potenzialità del rallenty, spinto all’estremo dalle nuove tecnologie digitali. Ma non ho citato a caso nemmeno l’ungherese e i famosi padri del video, Warhol e Beuys, non tanto perché lo hanno preceduto nell’uso della lentezza e del quadro fisso (si pensi per es. a Chelsea Girls,  a 24Hours, all’immobilità del tedesco dietro la camera che lo riprende seduto in primo piano), perché le deficenze del cinema, anche quello d’autore, diventano scoperte proprio in virtù del lavoro di costoro. Che BV ne tenga conto usando le potenzialità del mezzo odierno è titolo di merito: un artista ha il dovere preciso di sfruttare al meglio i propri mezzi. E lui lo fa.Cosa mi lascia insoddisfatto allora?L’arte dei nostri giorni mostra una debolezza pericolosa proprio nella genuflessione acritica alla tecnologia d’avanguardia. BV decide giustamente di percorrere le ossessioni che producono la spiritualità umana, quelle che lo differenziano dalla bestia, la vita, la nascita, la decadenza, la morte, l’evento imprevisto, la preghiera, ma assoggetta il contatto con la materia, in questo caso l’acqua e il fuoco, al solo mezzo digitale. E’ il limite della scelta del mezzo? La sbavatura, la volgarità, la cattiveria umana (così pregnanti in un artista come Bela Tar), l’amore del particolare, la bellezza della sporcizia, evidenti nell’opera di Pelešjan e, con un eccesso più che giustificato, in Carmelo Bene, il barocchismo, così importante nella cultura europea da Borromini in poi (verso il quale artisti come appunto Carmelo Bene e Beuys mostrano grande sensibilità) sono in lui completamente assenti. Tutto è perfettissimo, il quadro sposa la memoria dell’arte, però se non passassi per eccessivamente ingiusto nei confronti di un lavoro che fa riflettere, sintetizzerei con una battuta, datata appunto rococò: “Perdrix, perdrix, toujours perdrix! Un peu de merde” (SVP, aggiungo io a Louis XIV).   

[saccharinescalpel]

Before I forget: I had the most bonkers dream last night except it was like a full blown movie that had awesome effects and costume designs.

So it started off in some fancy rich people holiday island that probably wasn’t actually real (but you get the idea) and I was on vacation with my family and I didn’t bring enough clothes so I went to a mall and had just got paid so I splurged and bought some pants from a fancy designer brand called “LesbeMes”. Anyway when I was trying to pay for these $150 pants they were really rude to me and asked me what I did and why I was there and a bunch of odd questions but we’re all really mean about it. There was this girl at the other register in tears, Anne, and I didn’t know her. Anyways I got out of there and went to a cafe where I was supposed to meet my parents but they weren’t there yet and I was waiting outside on the patio when none other than ZAK BAGANS from Ghost Adventures came up to me and we started hitting it off (I don’t know why it was him or why my brain decided him of all people especially when I’m in a happily committed relationship and don’t watch that show anymore but w/e). So yeah we were flirting, exchanged numbers, etc. The next day we meet again at the same cafe and it so happens that girl Anne is there and he starts going wild. And I’m like wtf and he doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on but then he turns into a werewolf and grabs her and runs away. So I’m stunned and obviously run after them because my new bf(??) just did that. Anyways I find them and they’re being approached by the means ladies from the store earlier and they explain that the fashion brand is a front for a lesbian vampire cult trying to resurrect the new king and queen of the vampires. It turns out Anne is the reincarnation of the queen and they know that Zak is half werewolf half vampire so he’s already the king of vampires because he’s all powerful (I have no idea give me a break). So obviously they take them away. I decide I have to save my new bf. I find out that LesbeMes is having a fashion show and I sneak in but they hate me because they know I’m trying to ruin their plans and have decided I’m not fit to become a vampire so i have to be all secret and stuff. Anywho I make some allies we discover that I’m the same size and look similar to the owner of the brand/leader of the cult so they disguise me as her and just in time for me to find out when and where the “coronation” of the king and queen will be. But! It’s really soon! So I get taken off in this parade of the cult because the cult leader (and they think I’m her) started it in hopes to gain favour from the king and queen and gain eternal life by becoming a vampire with them. I get taken to this place that’s like giant ball room with giant ornate set of tables and chairs (think Versailles) and everyone is all dressed up in rococo style clothes of black and gold and dark red (very vampiric). I’m seated at the table and of course my bf ZAK BAGANS recognizes me again but doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want me to get caught. But now I’m worried because they said I wasn’t fit to become a vampire and I might just die idk. So anyways it starts and everyone starts breathing in the vapors coming out of the table and I’m scared but I do it anyways and everyone is screaming and in pain but they keep inhaling (it was kind of like almost every vampire transformation sequence where you die and then get reborn beautiful and stuff). So almost everyone transformed into beautiful creatures of the night except some of them were like the Nosferatu from VtM so they were basically the same as those in that game. I ended up turning and it was obvious that it was me and not their leader so they were shocked but Anne and obviously Zak pardoned me and it was all okay. But then, which was weird for one of my dreams, Zak told Anne that even though she is the Queen he cannot be with her because he’s in love with me and she agreed because she didn’t really know him and was fine ruling by herself as an independent queen anyways so we ran off down a hallway to live happily ever after. And then I woke up.

Oh and Zak had a full back tattoo of the main cast of SpongeBob as gangsters in neon yellow.

If someone would like to psychoanalyze me that would be great. Thanks.

[fallen-from-venus]

Miss Marie the Partying Queen

I started to write a few other posts, but I never finished them. Maybe one day I’ll drag them out of the draft pit. As for today I am going to bypass them and post about what’s exciting me at the moment. My 21st is coming up and I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out what to do for it. Unfortunately, I am the oldest of my friends, so going to bars isn’t really an option. It’ll be colder so camping might not be that fun. Although I will say I have always wanted to stay at a cabin with friends and have a fun woodsy weekend. A trip of any genre would be really fun. But that’s not what this post is about. It’s about my rekindled love for Marie Antoinette. I just started reading this book which is this futuristic/modern interpretation of Marie Antoinette’s life. Super interesting, super fun, and just reminded me that miss Marie was the ultimate it girl. All the parties she had and the glamourous lifestyle she led, whether or not the history books or assumed aesthetic are accurate, I love it. The idea of such decadence and sort of ornate luxury is so exciting to me. Not to mention rococo fashion is like peak princess dress up period. And if we’re talking about Marie Antoinette, we can’t not talk about the Sofia Coppola movie of the same name. That just hits home the semi modern interpretation of the luxury and indulgence that I associate with miss Marie. Sidebar, can we just talk about behind the scenes of period pieces. I’m sure everyone has seen the pics with Kirsten Dunst and Jason Schwartzman listening to something on a mac, fully in costume and on set. If you haven’t here’s a pic for reference.

I don’t know but that contrast of modern-day stuff just casually being in a immersive period setting is so fun to me. It’s unexpected and yet just the most natural thing in the world. It has a sort of irrevence to the past that I like. Same goes with Hamilton in a way, looking through the past in a modern lense. God, I hate that I keep saying modern, but I’m really struggling for another word. Like how they use modern slang or just current ways of speaking. I feel like everyone has this sacred idea of how things were in the past and that everything was so formal and deliberate, but no they were people and had the same conversation we do today. Like yeah maybe they didn’t have a fucking mac back then but I’m sure all of Marie’s girlies were talking about their favorite songs performed at like the opera. Anyways I say all of this to say, I like the contrast modern items in period pieces bring because it humanizes the idea of historical figures and makes them seem fucking fun- which they probably really were since they were way lax on drugs and stuff, so they probably would out party people today. Okay side bar over. Back to Marie Antoinette. So, I have been rekindling my love for that movie and just the sheer aesthetic of it. And of course, the next thing that pops up on my feed is a video of a girl getting ready for a MA themed party, MA meaning Marie Antionette because you’re probably as tired of reading it as I am of writing it. Which naturally led me down a rabbit hole of researching other people’s renditions of a MA party. Some I liked better than others, but all of the videos had me feeling very inspired. Some key points I’ve gathered are that if you can’t go all out, less is more. Meaning that if you can’t have everyone go all out full rococo dresses, it’s better to just do inspired outfits. Which is no shade at all to inspired outfits because after seeing all of the variants I think I like them better. Another thing I concluded was that if there is one thing you are going to do right, it’s gotta be the food. The dainty little pastries and cakes really send home the idea of MA for me. Plus is that not just so fun having all of these desserts to sample. To tie this back to the beginning of the post, yes, I am now considering having a MA party for my birthday. We can still go hard for my 21st because you don’t get ID’d in a backyard and miss Marie is a great partying role model. I think I’m going to post some pics and ideas on here just as a moodboard to organize my thoughts. If you can take inspiration for it even better. and if not, it’s just pretty to look at, spice up your feed. But that’ll be another post. I’ll just end this with some more pics to illustrate my modern/period juxtapose rant I went on earlier. 

Ciao

[saintobio]

sincerely not. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of infertility, violence, blood, infidelity, illness

notes. 10.8k wc and very minimal angst. thank u for beta-ing and for always helping me out @suhkusa && @inarizahki :’) i appreciate u both so much <3 please enjoy this chapter everyone.

series masterlist -> episode eleven

The Zen’in estate was better than you expected.

Despite knowing that their clan has a reputation of being one of the most affluent families in Japan, you were still surprised to see the palatial residence that housed their entire family. The exteriors of their grandiose mansion resembled the Versailles—an 18th century French palace with its antique simplicity and exquisite neoclassical architecture. The interiors boasted of ornamental Rococo decorations with a combination of ivory white tones, intricate ceilings, and gilt-bronze moldings. Everywhere you looked was a sight of grandeur as you passed by their grand staircase to their spacious hallways.

The architecture of their chateau reminded you of the same luxury mall in Shibuya that their family owned, as well as their 5-star hotels and art galleries that catered to the elite. Their taste for European-style designs were in great contrast to the dark and modernist preference of the Gojou family. You liked both, but the Zen’ins just had a notable, more inviting atmosphere around them.

It wasn’t just the house, but the people themselves that exuded such warmth to make you feel at home. When you entered their estate, the servants immediately took you straight to the twins’ boudoir, where you explained that you were there because you needed to get their measurements to assist in creating a tailored outfit for them.

Mai, being an open supporter of your taste in fashion, was extremely eager to know that you were creating designs specifically made for her. “I can’t believe it,” she enthused while you measured the width of her shoulders, “Ah! I’m so excited to see how you’re gonna make them!”

You matched her smile with gratitude, guiding her to turn around so you could take the measurements of her bust. “I’m all for designing and conceptualizing, but this wouldn’t be possible if not for my seamstress.”

“Well, you can hire a team at this point. These are really good,” praised Maki who was sitting on the couch, browsing through your iPad to see your new collection. “Your style reminds me of Jacquemus and Chanel combined.”

You briefly looked at the elder twin and beamed approvingly. “Yeah, I do take inspiration from them.”

Mai chimed in with overflowing vivace, “That reminds me. Did you see the recent Jacquemus show, nee-san? I fell in love with the dress Gigi wore.”

“I did. Simon’s craft is amazing, I could never reach that level of talent and skill,” you replied in the middle of jotting down all the numbers you could get from Mai. You had to admit that being able to talk about these topics with younger girls who shared the same interest brought you some sense of felicity. It wasn’t really something that you had with Gen since she was all about the business, and Satoru didn’t exactly talk about these kinds of things with you. Everyone around you was more interested in the realms of money, stock, and the ever-growing market. Only now with the Zen’ins were you able to experience a fun and exciting exchange about something that you were passionate about.

“Mai, look at this.” Not long after, Maki adjusted her large-framed glasses and walked over to her younger twin showing one of your designs. It was a cutout evening ensemble, with a window to the ribs and a double slit that ended just a few inches shy from the pelvis. You remembered designing the dress after seeing the recent Proenza Schouler collection which inspired you to create the added asymmetric paneling and modest peek-a-boo placements.

Mai’s eyes immediately widened as soon as they landed on the iPad’s screen. “Gosh, that’s stunning! Is that the dress you’re gonna make for us, nee-chan?”

You chuckled and scrunched your nose apologetically. “That’s too mature and revealing,” you explained, sitting at the armrest with a tape measure on hand. “I actually designed that for myself. I’m not sure where I’m gonna wear it, though.”

Along with the gleam of intrigue that lingered in her eyes, she also teasingly raised her eyebrows up and down. “I bet your husband’s gonna go crazy if he sees you in this. It would totally look sexy on you.”

“Agreed,” Maki claimed with a grin resting on her lips, “one of the very few things that would make Satoru Gojou fall on his knees.”

Receiving compliments from the twins was not what you came here for, but it was difficult to just dismiss their friendly nature. How could you not adore them? You loved their positive presence, their enthusiasm, and quite simply, their appreciative words. Not to mention, they were nothing but respectful and genial towards you. Although you had to suffer from the arctic atmosphere with your husband back at the penthouse, talking to these two was the best temporary escape you could ever have. “I doubt it’ll make him fall for me.”

“Isn’t he already head over heels in love with you, Y/N-san?” Maki reckoned, crossing her legs as she sat more comfortably on the couch.

Mai, on the other hand, was heading towards the mirror to adjust the ribbon around her waist. “True, he even got her those Diana shoes. If my husband did that for me, I’d be the happiest wife in the world.”

Unfortunately, being the ‘happiest wife’ was far-fetched in your romance book and would never even reach the pages. You wondered how these two would react had they discovered that those shoes were not for you, but for another woman. A mistress by law. What would Maki and Mai’s opinion be on the topic of extramarital affairs?

You had to remind yourself that they were too young and that these problems were better discussed with adults. The twins should be spared of the details concerning your pathetic marital life, not only because it was distasteful to talk about such topics with teenagers, but also it was not a very good image for you and your thin string of pride. You wished not to ruin their image of a perfect spouse just because yours didn’t turn out the way you imagined. What you could share to them, rather, was your personal take about the relationship shared between married couples.

“Girls, love can’t be measured by material things,” you tried to make a point while they listened intently, “the shoes are gorgeous but it’s nice to value the thought more than the physical gifts. I promise nothing’s more gratifying than receiving genuine love, trust, and care from your partner.”

Because you had none of those.

The twins didn’t say anything much but from the looks on their faces, they seemed to agree. They were still at an age where dating was only meant to be at surface level and not something as committed as marriage. It was a practice of trial and error一they could still change partners by simply breaking up and forming new relationships. That was not exactly the case for you anymore. When they grow up and life hits them with reality, they would certainly look back and understand what you mean.

“You’re such a devoted and loving wife.” Maki gazed at you with admiration. “I hope he’s treating you well.”

You suppressed a sigh and smiled instead. “I’m curious though,” you began, “what do you guys think of arranged marriages? It’s pretty common for affluent families.”

None of them were aware that you and Gojou only got married to keep the family ties, so it wouldn’t harm to hear their opinion by playing it off theoretically. Funny enough, it didn’t even take another second before Mai gave an answer, “Onee-chan said she wouldn’t do it, but I don’t mind. Whether it’s arranged or not, it doesn’t matter because we’ll end up loving each other, anyway. Imagine living with the same person every day—you would fall in love for sure!”

Maki already had a counterargument prepared. “But that love feels forced. That kind of marriage is not exactly something that the husband and wife willingly got themselves into, this is why arranged marriages are always bound to fail.”

Ouch. You knew that the girl was spitting facts, but you also couldn’t deny the gnawing pain that creeped inside your heart because since the beginning, your marriage was indeed a failure. It was your selfish desire to turn a wedding done out of convenience into a fairytale.

With Gojou, nothing was a fantasy unless you were Sera. Their relationship was the true-to-life damsel in distress and you were the privileged villain who didn’t deserve a taste of a happy ending. Simply put, you were a side character and Sera was the protagonist.

“Sorry, we’re a ‘lil bit late.”

As you turned around to the voice that cut you out of your trance, you saw Toji’s towering figure leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek and you could smell his masculine cedarwood fragrance from the beige sweater that he was wearing. It was hard to believe that the man could look good in both casual and formal wear, something that not a lot of guys his age could pull off.

“Hey,” you said, offering him a smile. “Where’s Megumi?”

Just as you asked, his teenage son came into view by making his entrance inside the room looking shy and a little bit aloof as he glanced at his cousins, who both cooed at him for waking up late. You chuckled at how they teased the youngest in the household while he tried to hide his embarrassment by acting calm and composed. Although his movements seemed stiff and restricted, he acknowledged you straight away and gave you a respectful bow before greeting you. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gojou.”

How polite and extremely handsome, too. With the same physique and a nearly identical chiseled face, the son surely took after his father. His hair might be all over the place, but his eyes, his gaze, and his facial structures made him a carbon copy of Toji.

“Nice to meet you, Megumi.” You gently grabbed his hand and caught him by surprise, but you showed your tape measure to clarify why you did so. “I just need your measurements, okay?”

After nodding, the boy shot an amused look towards his father, who sat on the table just a few inches beside you. “Be careful around my dad. Women think he’s attractive but he spouts the dumbest things,” Megumi warned, which caused Toji to widen his eyes and the twins to burst into laughter.

Because Toji had him young, his bond with Megumi was similar to that of an older brother who casually and comfortably joked around with each other. You have yet to hear about the story of his mom and how his father had him when he was only twenty-years of age, but out of respect, you preferred not stick your nose into family matters that they may not willingly talk about outside of their clan. On the bright side, you decided to play along while you measured the length of the boy’s torso. “Interesting,” you quipped, “your dad can be pretty playful, huh?”

“When have I ever played you?” Toji defended, playing with a tennis ball in his hand,a mischievous smirk plastered on his lips. You could only give him a good-humored eye-roll as you encircled the tape around his son’s waist.

As it turned out, when you looked at his face, Megumi was cringing at his father. “You’re embarrassing, dad.”

“So embarrassing,” Maki supported her cousin’s comment with a visibly smug expression, “were you trying to flirt with nee-san?”

Toji didn’t deny nor did he agree—only kept a small smile that restrained his desire to show more. “Stay professional, kids. Where are your manners?”

“You’re the one who started it!” Mai retorted, chuckling.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words could not leave your mouth when another presence joined the rest of you in the room. The black tips of his blond hair, the sharp piercing eyes, the permanent smirk一it was Naoya Zen’in in the flesh.

“Is it time for my grand entrance?” he asked, taking graceful steps inside the boudoir with narrowed eyes glinting with intrigue. The more he stared at you, the more you were self-conscious because you have heard a lot about how frivolous this man could be. He was not only a notorious casanova, but he was also a very hubristic individual who possessed qualities that you didn’t particularly like. “Look who Toji-kun brought in. You’re into married women now?”

Maki groaned. “Ugh, the annoying prick is here.” She propped her elbow above the armrest and glared at the guy. “Get out.”

“Yeah! Way to ruin our day,” Mai hissed, and you didn’t know whether you should laugh or feel bad for Naoya, who was stunned at the sudden wave of antagonism from his own relatives. Toji and Megumi were already sniggering at him, but neither father and son defended him.

“I... Shut up!” Naoya whined at the twins, burying his hands inside his pockets. He was wearing a plain black tee tucked under his grey pants, a look that heavily reminded you of your husband. How was Satoru right now? You had left him cold-heartedly back in your shared home, though you were certain that your absence wasn’t all that new to him. Still, you guessed that it was normal for you to think of your own husband despite your decision to completely detach yourself from him. “So, Y/N-chan. How’s Satoru-kun doing?”

Toji made an effort to sit closer to you so he could place a protective hand on your shoulder. You weren’t sure what his intention was on doing that, but you continued taking the length of Megumi’s arm while you entertained the only blond Zen’in in the family. “He’s doing fine,” you mumbled an answer, writing down on a paper. “I’ll send him your regards.”

Naoya hummed, staring between you and Toji with mirth in his eyes. “I heard marriages are supposed to be rocky in the first year,” he suggested with an impish smile. “No matter how tough it gets, I hope he’s not gonna do something stupid, you know… like having an affair with a prettier girl. It’s a pity ‘cause no one else has a better status to compete with you.”

In silence, you let him blabber about Satoru while you thanked Megumi for allowing you measure him. You could tell that Naoya knew something about your husband’s infidelity, but you would never confirm it for Satoru’s sake because it would paint a bad picture of you as his wife. It was your choice to remain taciturn about the ugly truth behind your marriage in order to save face. Unfortunately, Naoya was too adamant on keeping a conversation with you by sitting on the table. How awkward was this situation? You gave him a smile nevertheless. “Don’t worry. Satoru’s a good man.”

“A good man but not a good husband,” Naoya assessed your words, quickly chuckling and waving his hand defensively as you looked up at him. “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that he’s一”

“Okay, enough of that nonsense.” Toji took the initiative to hold you on both shoulders, urging you to pick up your things so that he could get you out of this situation. You didn’t really find it insulting. Naoya simply loved getting under people’s skin, which was why his words were entertaining albeit derisory to some extent. But even in your calm and understanding nature, Toji didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. “Join us for lunch before you leave.”

“No, that’s okay. Thank you, though,” you shyly told him, but received a series of incessant requests for you to stay by everyone else.

Mai even got up and quickly looped an arm around yours. “Come dine with us, please? We’re having grilled lobsters today!”

A moue suddenly appeared on Megumi’s face. “Who the hell requested lobsters?!”

“I did, got a problem?” Maki challenged, only to receive Megumi’s cute, sulking face in response. Because he was the baby among his cousins, it was normal for him not to complain further and you actually found his reaction adorable.

“Aww,” you didn’t mean to coo out loud, but couldn’t help it as you smiled at the boy. You wondered if Toji acted the same way when he was a teenager like his son.  “Are you not into seafood, Megumi?”

A huff flew out of his pouty lips. “It’s alright.”

“Aaah—! Toji-kun, you’re harsh! I was just trying to talk to her!”

Behind the rest of you was Toji and Naoya, with the former putting the latter on a tight headlock. “You’re a menace,” was Toji’s remark for the blond before he rubbed his knuckles against his head. None of them found the scene shocking, so you assumed that it was a normal occurrence for Naoya to be scolded by Toji this way. It was actually such an amusing sight to see that even if some of them disliked each other, they all still bonded like a real family. They joked around, they laughed together, they argued, but they shared a picture perfect familial relationship which was something that made you feel at home.

One thing for sure, this definitely wouldn’t be your last visit.

Satoru hadn’t been able to stop looking at his phone for the past few minutes, habitually checking to see if he had received any new messages from you because he had no idea where you went. The lack of updates from his own wife prompted him to stalk your Instagram account, where he scrolled through your feed and clicked on the latest photo of you in Bora Bora. The trip brought you nothing but painful memories so he was surprised that you still haven’t deleted it from your account. As your rightful husband, he browsed through the comments left on your bikini photo out of curiosity and saw a particular one that instantly made him grit his teeth.

“Off to paradise, huh?” he murmured the words with a scoff. Why the fuck was Toji Zen’in hitting on a married woman? What a piece of scum. Gojou felt irritated more than ever but he immediately buried his scowl when Gen came back to the living room.

Your sister, inside and outside of the office, always carried such an intimidating aura around her. Satoru had grown accustomed to it since he was a kid because he remembered being yelled at by Gen whenever he got you two in trouble. When you scraped your knee that one summer when Gojou asked you to climb the tree with him, memories of Gen angrily screaming at his face were still vivid in his head like it was yesterday. He admired her for being such a protective sister, but at the same time, he was digging his own grave for impulsively deciding to visit your mansion thinking that you would be here.

“She’s not here,” as confirmed by his sister-in-law, she sat on the couch adjacent to him. “Dad called me saying he’s gone horseback riding alone, too. Maybe she’s with her friends?”

Satoru hasn’t even met any of your friends to have an idea. He was already feeling unsettled as is, but more so did he feel small under Gen’s scrutinizing stare even if she played it off with a smile. “I just tried my luck. I miss her.”

The woman leaned back and took a sip from her tea. “You know,” she placed the teacup on the ceramic plate, “I thought it was weird that Y/N would stay for a whole week with us even if she claims that she just wanted to spend time. You two fought, didn’t you?”

Could he even deny it? Gen’s gaze was already suggesting him with a warning that said ‘don’t lie’ or else it would make things worse. It was futile to try and hide. So with that, he admitted to the truth. “We had, uh, a small argument.”

“Whatever it is, it must be bad if she’s avoiding you. She’s usually very patient with people,” your sister noted and Satoru had to hold his breath for a good minute.

There was no point in sugar coating things, but with Gen around, he needed all the sugar that he could get in order not to see her wrath. “I’m fixing it. How do I win her back? You know her best.”

Frankly, he was hurt when he saw how you simply walked past the bouquet of roses that he got you and he was certain as hell that you would let them wither away, too. You had paid no attention to it nor did you even spend a single minute to appreciate it. But how stupid was he to think that a flower could fix everything? It might work on Sera, but it didn’t seem to work for you.

When you told him that he had to make it up to you for the rest of his life, God knows how surprised he was to see this other side of you. Detached, indifferent, stern—he realized just how terrible he was that he had turned his loving and gentle wife into that. Who was she? It broke his heart. Wrecked him, shattered him. He was in desperate need of some good advice, or else he could actually lose you.

Thankfully, Gen was willing to help by enlightening his mind. “Be consistently sweet to her. Show her how much you appreciate her. Care for her. You should know your wife better than anyone else, Satoru. You’ve been together since you were kids.”

Yeah, but that was before his life took a turn. “I’ll keep trying. Did she… Did she say anything about me when she was here?”

Gojou expected that you would confide in your sister by spilling the truth about all the shit that he has done to you, so he was immensely surprised to hear another answer from her. “She just keeps saying how you probably couldn’t sleep well at night while she’s gone.”

Fuck. Satoru’s heart dropped. Despite the amount of pain that he had mercilessly inflicted on you, you still thought about how things felt like in his shoes. He knew for a goddamn fact that he should learn from you about understanding other people’s perspectives but he just didn’t have your selfless personality. It was difficult enough to absorb others’ pain when you were struggling yourself, so how come you were so good at handling it? My wife. Only my wife can do that. He couldn’t ever lose you.

Gen watched how her brother-in-law let out a deep exhale, propping his elbows on his knees as he pondered intensely. Seeing him in such a state allowed her to open up about you. “Satoru, you’re aware that Y/N is very close to our mom, right?” She immediately received a nod from him. “Well, when she died, her death devastated Y/N the most. It was traumatic for her because she had to watch her die while she was holding her hand, and that kinda stuck with her. It put her in a depressive state for a long period. It was a domino effect after that—she lost track and couldn’t know how to proceed with life because she placed so much emotional dependency on our mom, even to the point where she shut herself off from the world. She usually does that when she feels helpless, so the last thing you should do is make her feel lonely.”

It was the first time he had heard about your own trauma, and he deemed himself a horrible husband for never asking how hard things had been for you. Throughout your marriage, you were always patient at comforting him whenever his most painful memories visited him in the dead of night. You were always there to prevent his father from inflicting physical and psychological damage on him. You were there, waking him up with an angelic smile on your face, treating him with kindness every single day despite the hell that he had put you through. People say we do things that we regret later on and the topmost on his list was making you suffer more than you deserved.

He misjudged you just because you grew apart and changed, mistreated you just because he was blinded by unreasonable rage. The marriage may be for business purposes, but at one point in his life, you were his best friend. You were his first crush, his first kiss, his first image of happiness. Why did he let himself lose his sight of you along the way?

“I fucked up really bad,” he sighed, burying his face in his hands forlornly. There was an unfamiliar pang in his chest that reminded him of the same pain whenever he thought of his mom.

Gen could see his restlessness and wanted to lighten up the situation. “You two are married. It’s normal to have arguments here and there.” And while she did say that with a comforting tone, she also gave him a playful warning. “Just make sure you don’t put her back in a depressive state because if you do…” she paused, smiling, “...I’ll ruin you.”

Once a month, it was obligatory for you and your husband to visit their mansion and have dinner with his family. You were aware that they wanted it solely to check on whether the relationship between you and Satoru was still intact or if they had anything to worry about. It had been six months, nearly seven, since you’ve married him and it was normal for them to be concerned if things weren’t going right. But aside from that, they must have been curious as to why you two were still childless up until now when they were told that you have been continuously trying for a baby. Well, they were not informed that the whole baby topic was what essentially caused the heartbreak in your severed marriage. They were not informed that he had a mistress that he loved enough to cast his wife aside. They were not informed that your heart was at its most fragile state and that the accumulation of stress from being with him could lead you to your deathbed. There was no one to blame but the universe for allowing your fate to turn out this way.

Did you really see yourself being a part of their family after everything that you have gone through? If the agony had been unbearable six months into your marriage, how much more for another year or two?

His family must have noticed how reserved and silent you were throughout dinner, never once looking at your husband’s face as your father-in-law incessantly talked about business and politics. At some point, you noticed how his stepmom was glancing at you and Satoru as if to think ‘they’re definitely fighting’ and that was when you snapped out of being outwardly lukewarm. Once again, you had to put on a front of being the stress-free wife that they expected you to be.

“My dear,” Nana softly spoke, wiping her lips with a napkin right across from you. “Do you not like the food?”

You quickly fixed your emotions. “Of course, I do. I love it, Nana.” Italian dishes, specifically requested because they knew you liked them. “Sorry, I just wasn’t feeling well before I came here, so…”

“Must be morning sickness?” Satoru’s stepmom suggested with a knowing smile. Pregnancy talk, again.

You expected Satoru to react against his step-mom with his usual antagonism but it seemed that being hostile to her or Yuuta wasn’t his priority tonight. In fact, when you looked at his face for the first time since dinner began, he had a strange, puppyish look on display as though he was guilty of something really grave. Technically, he has some liability for the things he did but you wouldn’t expose that.

So for the sake of pretending, an awkward chuckle escaped from your lips. “I don’t think I’m pregnant yet.”

Satoru’s father lowered his fork and took a sip from his wine. “I had a conception dream, you know,” he revealed with enthusiasm. “That could be a sign that a grandchild is coming along soon.”

Instead of playing along, your husband’s face turned pallid. The sudden lack of color made you confused because he looked like he was panicking internally. For what reason? That the conception dream could mean that you were pregnant? You hadn’t stopped taking your birth control even if you were no longer intimate in bed so he had nothing to worry about.

“Stop pressuring us to have a child,” Satoru mumbled a reply, eyes glued on his plate and you were tempted to squeeze his hand but stopped yourself this time. Boundaries. You knew your boundaries.

There was a look of restraint in your dad-in-law’s eyes as he gazed at his son at the far end of the table. “There’s no reason for you not to have a child unless you’re infertile,” his strict voice silenced the whole table一with Nana pressing her lips together, with Yuuta worriedly glancing at his older brother, and with your stepmother-in-law suppressing a smirk behind her glass of wine. Seeing the intense atmosphere in the Gojou household allowed you to compare them with the lively ambience with the Zen’in family. The stark difference was notable, and you felt bad that you enjoyed the latter’s company more than the ones you called your family.

As much as you wanted to stay detached, you wanted to prevent your father-in-law from finding another reason to chastise your husband. “Don’t worry, dad. We’ll keep trying,” you reassured, intertwining your hand with Satoru’s. “He’s just been really busy with work.”

“Satoru, take a week off,” his father immediately ordered, nodding his head over at his son in a strict manner. You could feel Satoru’s grip tightening his hold around your hand despite the tension between you two. “Spend more time with your wife.”

God, spending more time with him was the last thing you needed right now. With your silent defiance, you met your husband’s cerulean eyes for a brief moment before you looked away. He must have assumed that you had finally warmed up to him, when that was far from the case. Ever since you learned how to put a wall between you and him, your chest pains hadn’t returned and you certainly wouldn’t let any form of stress put you at risk again.

Fortunately, the mansion was spared from any family conflicts after dinner even though Satoru had to sit down and talk about business ventures with his father who also kept bragging about how Yuuta was going to make him proud. Even from a distance, you could hear his dad’s endless chattering that were all targeted to put pressure on Satoru as the next in line as the CEO of the Gojou Group, threatening him that his chances of becoming one would be slimming down if he didn’t show enough competence. You thought it was cruel for a parent to subject his own child with that much negativity instead of paying attention to the positive contributions that he had made for the company. You and Satoru may not be on good terms right now, but you had always believed from an early age that he was meant to lead a business empire. He was raised with the prestige of being the sole heir of a conglomerate whose goal was to take over not only Japan but the whole world. Satoru had big ambitions as a young boy and you were the little girl that encouraged him through it.

It was sad to see how much has changed in the absence of both your mothers and how everything fell apart to the point of no redemption. Because things were no longer the same, you just had to accept that your marriage would find its tragic end one day.

For now, your spouse seemed to be showing more interest in you than he usually did. You noticed how his eyes would often trail on you wherever you went as if he didn’t want to lose sight of you. If you were the same person in the first few months of your marriage, this would have made you ecstatic. Any attention from Satoru that was not hostile would have given you joy. But unbeknownst to him, it didn’t feel that way anymore. All that was left was a sting in your heart that you wished to stay away from.

“Nana, are you tired?” You turned your attention back to his grandmother who clutched your arm for support. “Will you miss me if I don’t visit for another month?”

Her eyes didn’t radiate the same spark as you and her caregiver ushered her up the stairs. “Of course. I wish you and Satoru visited more and more these days,” she sighed, patting your forearm affectionately. “Ah, but how can I demand time from a newlywed couple? You should be spending every minute together.”

You let out a silent chuckle by the time you reached her room. “Wouldn’t that be suffocating?”

“It isn’t if you’re in love with each other.” The frail old woman was tucked in her bed with the assistance of her caregiver while you sat at the corner holding her wrinkly hand. You didn’t know what life Nana had for the past eighty-seven years, but you were curious if things had always been a fairytale with her late husband. It seemed that she loved him so much that she still kept a framed painting of Satoru’s grandfather in her room, lovingly gazing at the man with yearning. “My husband. He’d been a dedicated husband to me until his last breath.”

The thought swarmed you with envy, but in a positive way. “It must be nice to have that kind of love,” you dreamily said the words before realizing it.

It was too late to take it back because Nana looked at you with a puzzled face. “Is my Satoru not faithful to you?” she worriedly inquired.

You had the option to confirm the truth, yet you still covered up for him. “He is,” you swallowed a lie, “and there’s nothing to worry about, Nana. I was just saying how it would be nice if Satoru and I could stay dedicated to each other even as we grow older.” Lies. You hated lying, but you had to play pretend because you couldn’t let her know that her grandson loved another woman. It looked like Nana had no idea who Sera was or if she was even introduced to her but the fact that she hadn’t mentioned her even indirectly could only mean that Sera had never been acknowledged as her grandson’s lover. Not one of your husband’s family would have welcomed her either way.

Should you be happy? No, you weren’t raised to smile at other people’s misfortune. Sera would have been the perfect daughter-in-law had they all given her a chance outside of her social status.

Avoiding Satoru was inevitable because you had to sit inside his McLaren when he drove back home, passing the busy streets of Tokyo that was as bustling even at ten in the evening. You tried to look at the window just so you didn’t have to look at him, but conversations were just as inescapable as being inside his million-dollar car. You already knew that he would try and attempt to start a conversation when he started clearing his throat, going as far as reaching for your hand to hold it as he drove.

Was he going to ask where you have been all day? Was he going to question why you were obsessed with ignoring him?

None of those questions came out of his mouth. What he asked was something that took you by surprise. “Do you wanna have a bowling date with me tomorrow?” he offered, nervousness evident in his tone. “I have meetings in the morning but I can get Miwa to reserve this place for us after.”

A date? When you said that he could make it up to you for the rest of his life, was he actually doing it now? You weren’t sure of how to feel. “Why bowling?” you asked, turning your face away while he brushed his thumb along the back of your hand.

You could feel him smiling as he spoke. “I just feel like you’d have fun with it. Remember when our parents used to take us with them to bowling alleys when we were young? There was a bowling section for kids and we always teamed up. You didn’t even wanna switch partners because you wanted to be with me.”

“Right.” That memory was hardly vivid in your brain’s archive but you knew that he would be disappointed if you voiced it out. It was strange enough that he remembered your childhood all too well when he was the one who initially acted like you were a stranger on your wedding night. Gojou was hard to fathom and you weren’t sure if you would be able to fully connect the puzzle pieces for him.

Disappointed with your indifference, he still didn’t let go of your hand as he held the gearshift. “So, are you free tomorrow?”

How do you even politely tell someone that you don’t want to be around them? How do you protect your heart without hurting him? It was tough to decide on an answer, so you went along. “Yeah, sure.” You saw the smile that quickly tugged at his lips. Was that real or was that a charade? “I’ll just meet you there, I guess.”

He might as well release a sigh of relief because it was obvious that he had been keeping his breath until you gave him an answer. He’s trying, you would give him that, but at the same time, you were finding it hard to trust his intentions especially now that you had to take good care of your heart because only Gojou could elicit intense emotions out of you.

At half past ten in the evening, you were stuck in heavy traffic because there was a festival in the metropolitan city and some roads were closed. No wonder the people have swarmed in every direction like bees who had just come out of their hive. All you wanted was to go home and get some good rest after a long day, though it looked like it would take at least another hour for you to reach the penthouse. It didn’t help that the car was completely silent and you could hear your husband drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he peeked at the traffic lights.

Suddenly, he proposed an idea. “Let’s play a game.” Tugging your hand, you looked at him with a question mark painted on your face. “Every time you see a blue car, I’ll tell you something I like about you.”

Huh? You cocked your head to the side to see if he was serious, but after he placed a kiss atop your hand, you realized that he truly wanted to play the game. Things he liked about me? That alone was surprising and part of you was undeniably curious to hear what he had to say. You figured that it wouldn’t hurt to know一that it wouldn’t cause much harm to listen to the husband that once hated you, say the things he liked about you.

With that in mind, you started the game despite your pretentious insouciance. “Blue Nissan to your right.”

He hummed, keeping his eyes on the road as you instinctively glanced at his lips. “I like how you’re rich but you’re not high maintenance,” he answered, smiling at the thought. “I mean, it looks like you are but you’re not. I live with you so I know.”

How ironic was that? He was the one going around claiming that you were an entitled, spoiled brat who couldn’t live without getting what you wanted. You didn’t even want to ask when he started to change that perception he had towards you. “Peugeot, navy blue. To my right.”

“I like the shape of your nails,” and by answering so, he caressed your index finger and checked your French Tips. “It’s one of the first things I look at in a woman. Yours is by far the nicest.”

You took a deep breath. “By far,” you quoted his answer. So that means that he would still pay attention to other women’s nails. As you turned around to find any other blue cars, you only spotted one after a few minutes. “Ford, sky blue.”

Satoru had been driving for a few minutes and you hadn’t realized that you were near the building because you were surprisingly invested with his little game. “I like waking up next to you,” he mumbled, rendering you speechless with his honesty. “I like our morning routines—how you prepare breakfast, write those post-its, pick my suit. Sometimes we shower together.” Your husband erupted into a soft chuckle at the last sentence. “Or sometimes we stay in bed doing other things. You always wake up before me, but I feel more satisfied when I wake up before you because I can look at your sleeping face.”

This couldn’t be real. He was making it sound like he was enjoying the little things in your marriage, when he had made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you because you were nothing but a fill-in for Sera. He married you because he had to, not because he wanted to. ‘I never wanted this marriage’ were his exact words back in Bora Bora when he left you alone to sob your heart out. He despised being wedded to you.

So to hear him say all the domestic things that he apparently enjoyed with you opened a new gash in your heart and brought faint tears to your eyes. You couldn’t let him see how it was breaking you inside. You promised yourself that you weren’t going to be swayed by something like this, not now and now ever. Even if he did notice your silence, you averted your head and pretended to look for any other blue cars. “Tesla, in front of us.”

He was already driving up the building’s parking space to the special garage that housed all of your five cars combined. As he maneuvered his McLaren along the upward spiral, he thought of an answer. “I like how you call me baby,” he claimed and he felt a little embarrassed with his chosen response. “Daddy, too but I’ll save that for something else.”

“I thought you hated it.” That being said, he probably had more on the list of things that he hated about you. That was the real Gojou, not this vocally affectionate one.

“I don’t.”

“Okay…”

Silence stayed with you while your husband parked his car in reverse. In less than a minute, he released your hand to grip the steering wheel, pressing his forehead against it in deep thought. What was going on in his head? You didn’t have all night to stay in this parking space so you started unbuckling your seatbelt, but felt his hand halting your next move. “There aren’t any blue cars but,” he paused, leaning in closer, “I like your lips.”

As the distance decreased, your heart rate increased. It was as if you were paralyzed on your seat with your husband in close proximity, face inches away while you couldn’t prevent yourself from staring at the most beautiful pair of blues you’ve seen. His eyes, eyes that spoke a million words before he shut them as he encased your lips with his in a perfect lock.

The kiss was not rough or passionate, it was soft and gentle with his lips moving from sucking your lower lip to your upper. Your skin was burning from the feeling and you had no other option but to submit with equal affection. You could feel his head moving to the side to deepen the kiss and you were greeted with a pounding heart that rang an alarm in your eardrums.

Literally, because you realized what you had done and pushed Satoru away after your smartwatch signaled your unusually rapid heartbeat. Only recently did you purchase the watch in order to monitor your heart rate and forgot that it could also detect an unstable beat in all circumstances. Whether you were making out with a man in the car or you were having a heart attack, the watch’s purpose was to inform you to relax and take a deep breath because your heart was running laps.

“What’s that?” Disappointment laced your husband’s voice as you scrambled to turn it off. “New watch?”

You didn’t explain its function nor did you spend another second staring back into his eyes. This wouldn’t have happened had you not allowed him to kiss you. The wounds from the recent trip were still fresh and you had to remind yourself that getting swayed by Satoru was a dangerous game.

“Please refrain from kissing me without my permission.”

He watched you fully unbuckle your seatbelt with a perplexed look. “But we’re married.”

“Yes,” you said, opening the door so you could step out of his car. “By paper.”

Flashback — Gojou Mansion

Satoru had not had any sleep since his mother left two weeks ago without his knowledge. If he didn’t come home from school earlier than usual, he never would have had the chance to chase after his mother who refused to even look back at him as the cab left the mansion. It was the first time he ever realized the true meaning of heartbreak. His mother, his number one supporter—she chose to leave him behind as if she had never nurtured him from day one.

Why did she leave? Why didn’t she fight for her husband?

He was disgusted when he saw his father’s mistress sitting on the same couch where his mother used to sit. Just because she had left, it didn’t mean this tramp could act like she owned everything else in the mansion. At the end of the day, she was a gold-digging whore. A homewrecker. What kind of demon possessed his father to have an affair with a woman that didn’t even match his mother’s class?

“Get the fuck off my mom’s seat,” he spat, unwilling to pay the woman any respect. “You don’t belong here.”

She was gritting her teeth when she crossed her legs, raising her chin up high to show her newfound authority. “Your mom’s gone,” she said those words to Satoru like she was forcing the thought in his head. “Your father never loved her. He never even wanted their marriage. He just couldn’t divorce her right away because he pitied her.”

Gojou clenched his fist. “And you think he loves you?” This woman was vile and clearly had poor education. “You’re just a mistress. You’re a leech!”

He expected that she would fight back, but he was flabbergasted when she suddenly buried her face into her hands, and started faking her sobs. What the hell was she doing?!

“Y-You’re so mean!” her cries were clearly fake, but Satoru saw his dad coming down the stairs in deep concern. “I-I just wanted to treat you like my own son, Satoru.”

As confused as he was, he saw his father rubbing his mistress on the shoulder for some comfort before he turned to his son with an unyielding glare. Satoru was frightened from his domineering presence, but he was all the more horrified when his dad suddenly slapped him across the cheek. Not once, but many times.

“How dare you speak to her that way?!” he growled, sending his son to the floor because of the impact that he had received. This was the very first time his father laid a hand on him. This was the first time he received violence from his own parent who defended his mistress over his flesh and blood. “Learn to treat her with respect!”

Blood seeped out of Satoru’s nose as he wiped it with his hand. “Respect?” he asked, humorless laughter filling the room. “You want me to respect a homewrecker?”

“You ungrateful bastard—!” A kick to the rib. And another kick to his right hip. Satoru could not believe that he was receiving all this physical abuse just because his mom left. How could she leave him behind with this demon of a father? He was flooded with tears from the pain in his heart and the pain from the bruises he received. He could not breathe and his visions had become blurred, but he could hear Nana yelling for his dad to stop before she scooped her only grandson in her arms, crying as she saw him all bloody and traumatized.

How could you leave me with him, mom?

“Miwa, can you take care of the documents that we’ll be distributing to the shareholders next week?” Gojou gave orders to his secretary while she assisted him in removing the suit so he could go for a more casual look. “Hand them over to Mei when you’ve collected all of them. I gotta go. My wife’s waiting for me.”

Secretary Miwa presented him with a confident smile as she hung his coat on the rack. “I got it, sir. Don’t worry. Please enjoy your date.”

“I will.” Hopefully, he didn’t sound too excited even though he was visibly rushing out of his office just to get to his car. It had been awhile since he looked forward to actual dates, and he couldn’t deny how eager he was to finally have the chance to enjoy a fun activity with you. Following Gen’s advice, Satoru figured that spending more time together could allow him to make up for all the unforgivable things he has done to you for the past few months. He knew that the damages couldn’t be fixed overnight so he had to work hard to win you back before it was too late.

Frankly, he didn’t even think that you would agree to the date because you have been consistent at giving him the cold shoulder ever since you two came back from that damned Bora Bora trip. He couldn’t blame you for reacting that way, but things were getting better than how you completely ignored him from that night when you first came back home. If he ever had to see you breaking down like that again, he would most likely never forgive himself anymore. He was actually amazed that you still had the capacity to tolerate your husband’s presence despite the numerous times he had hurt you. Others would have walked away, screamed at his face, slapped him with all their might.

You didn’t, because aside from being level-headed, you probably didn’t think he was worth all the effort. If he put it that way, wouldn’t it be much more painful? Wouldn’t it mean that he wasn’t worthy enough to win an argument with? Sometimes, Satoru could not understand his own logic when it came to you.

It was already a quarter past three when he arrived at the bowling alley, about fifteen minutes late after he took a longer route because most roads were still closed. He wasn’t surprised when he immediately spotted your white Corvette parked outside of the establishment and he got even more animated knowing that you were already waiting for him.

He had a satisfied grin by the time he entered the premises, but lost it all once he stopped in his tracks to see a different woman. Confusion bathed his crystal blue eyes.

“Sera?” She turned around at the mention of her name. Dressed in a pink cardigan and a white fitted pants was his girlfriend. “What are you—?”

She, too, had the same astonished look. “Getou texted me saying you guys wanted to meet me here.”

Getou? What the hell was going on? Where was his wife?

“Oh, hey guys! Just in time!” The owner of that voice was Shoko Ieiri who approached both Gojou and Sera with Getou following her behind. “Y/N’s practicing in the bowling lane. Let’s go.”

Satoru’s breathing had ceased. “Getou, why are you guys here?” he asked, infuriated. “This was supposed to be just—” he had to pause and sigh in frustration because Sera was fast to cling to his arm, “—this isn’t happening.”

Suguru patted his back from the other side. “Y/N invited all of us. Are you disappointed?”

Damn right, he fucking was.

But he felt even more furious when he saw his wife laughing with a man as you two stood at the end of the bowling lane. The man, whose muscular build and scarred lips immediately made Satoru’s blood boil. Was this a fucking joke?

Toji Zen’in gave him a nod of acknowledgement but Gojou only paid attention to you. You barely even looked at your own husband as you glanced at Sera with those rigid eyes. In spite of your cold exterior, you still forced yourself to greet him and his lover.

“Glad you came,” you said, looking away nonchalantly.

“Y/N, what’s the meaning of this?” Satoru confronted you then and there, but you never bothered to give him a proper response. “I thought it was just us two.”

You let out a weary sigh. “You never said that I wasn’t allowed to invite anyone,” you muttered. “I was already with Toji so I thought it’d be nice if he tagged along.”

Gojou was about to respond until Sera cut him off to utter an insult. “You’re wicked,” she said to his wife, scoffing in disgust.

You displayed half a smile. “Says the one clinging to my husband.”

This person. This person wasn’t his wife. Toji probably had something to do with this and Satoru wasn’t very pleased to see the sudden turn of events. Were you doing this for revenge? But inviting Sera would not even do you any good. Moreover, his business rival was looking at you as if he was proud to see that you were sticking up for yourself in front of his mistress. The atmosphere was so suffocating that Satoru had to adjust his collar.

In the first place, why in the goddamn fuck was his wife hanging out with Toji Zen’in? What kind of betrayal was this?

“Y/N,” Satoru warned, feeling an ache creeping into his heart each second.

Ieiri had to cut the tension in between by separating you two. “Okay, why don’t we just have fun while we’re all here?”

You didn’t think that Satoru would be hurt when you ended up inviting everyone to your supposed date.

The devastation on your husband’s face made you feel terrible inside and you wanted to apologize for disappointing him, but you had to stick to your role and eliminate all of the guilt that was trying to consume you. You had good intentions when you invited these people and it was only because you weren’t ready to fall for Satoru’s trap again. Being alone with him would only complicate your goal to detach yourself, so even if it hurt to see his reaction, you had to prioritize your own heart.

Fortunately, Toji, Getou, and Ieiri immediately understood your actions which was why they were making things comfortable for you throughout this odd situation. Sera, on one hand, didn’t seem to care that much because she was even hugging your husband from the back, smiling at him in an attempt to cheer him up.

The bowling teams were divided into two; you, Toji, and Ieiri versus Gojou, Sera and Getou. The teams alone seemed to have ruined your husband’s mood because you knew that he wanted to be on the same team with you just like you always did back when you were kids.

Well, you were adults now, so he ought to act like one.

“Strike!” Ieiri squealed, meeting Toji halfway for a high five as she hit all ten pins. You couldn’t help but adore how easily they got along despite having little to no interaction prior to this. “Y/N, your turn!”

You could feel Gojou and Sera’s gazes trailing on you as you got up from the couch and headed towards the rack to pick up a bowling ball. “I suck at this,” you admitted to both Toji and Ieiri.

“No one said you didn’t,” Toji joked to which you responded with a playful pout. “Just kidding. You’re doing great.”

Breathe in, breathe out. You forgot how to actually play bowling, but you tried your best to deliver a smooth roll until you ended up hitting seven pins.

“Not bad,” said Shoko, offering you a thumbs up. “We’re still the best team.”

“Pardon?” To your right was a grinning Getou who was preparing his form as if he was a professional bowler who could hit consecutive strikes with his eyes closed. “We are the best team.”

You left Shoko and Suguru alone with their banter as you returned to your seat on the couch to rest for some time because you weren’t particularly skillful in bowling either way. You weren’t meaning to look at them, but you saw Sera who now moved onto Satoru’s lap with her arms around his shoulders and her head resting atop his. They were talking intimately like any normal couple would although it looked like their conversation wasn’t a happy one. You didn’t miss the arm that was locked around her waist and the hand that rested on her belly as they conversed.

The sight made your heart race and you already anticipated the alarm that would go off from your watch until Toji came to join you on the couch, ultimately distracting you from the pain that was nearly going to rip your heart into shreds.

“If someone steals your favorite food, would you get mad at them?” Toji proposed, sitting beside you with his parted legs. You could very much see the outline of his chest from the shirt that he was wearing and you had to look away before he would get the wrong idea.

“I won’t get mad,” you replied, wondering why he asked the question. “Why are you asking?”

The man kept his gaze in front of him and you realized that he was intrigued at how bold Satoru and Sera were for displaying their affair in front of everyone. It wasn’t like there were many people, anyway. Just a few staff who didn’t care much about the elite society. Still, it was clearly Toji’s first time to learn about your husband’s infidelity because you never mentioned it to him before. “That makes sense,” he affirmed, looking away from the adulterous couple so he could stare at you, “You don’t get mad when other people steal from you. You’re just selfless that way.”

Not really, but… “I guess so,” you told him, crossing your legs. “She’s attractive, huh?”

Toji grabbed the can of beer that was on top of the table and sipped from it. “Being a mistress isn’t attractive to me.”

“Touché.”

“Wanna make him jealous?”

His proposal caught you off guard, but you smiled at him nonetheless. “He doesn’t get jealous.”

“You don’t know that. He seems possessive.” Toji scooted closer and you met his verdant eyes with a glint of interest. “We should test that theory, don’t you think?”

You doubted it. Whatever theory Toji had in mind, it wasn’t going to work because Satoru would always forget the whole world around him whenever Sera was a hair’s breadth away. They were inseparable and they proved it all during  the Bora Bora trip. Because the flood of memories started coming back in your head, it was your spite that took over when you agreed to Toji’s deal.

And at once, he was pulling you out of the couch to replace Ieiri from the bowling lane. You already expected that this little theory would fail, though you had to admit that you weren’t prepared when Toji stood behind you, holding your waist as if he was teaching you the best posture to hit a strike. You played along when he winked at you, soon noticing how he glanced in Satoru’s direction with a smirk.

“You know he’s looking, right?” The upward curve of his lips was meant in jest but what made your heart pump twice as fast was when he brushed his thumb on your back, moving an inch closer to whisper in your ear. “You’re good at this game.”

Before you could utter a response, you were startled to see your husband’s veiny hand gripping Toji’s wrist with seething rage. “Don’t fucking touch my wife.”

Hypocrite. What a hypocrite. Even Toji wanted to tell him that, but decided to just smile it off. “I was just guiding her,” he jeered, but didn’t manage to lessen Gojou’s pique.

“Hell! Why are you even here?” Gojou narrowed his stare at the older guy. “Trying to steal somebody else’s wife?”

“Satoru, let him go,” you instructed sternly.

“You think this is funny?” your husband questioned you, derisively. Although he did release Toji’s wrist, his stare on you didn’t leave. He was hurt, you could tell that he was hurting inside. “I get that you’re mad at me, but you didn’t have to take it this far. Why can’t we just spend the whole day together by ourselves like a normal married couple? Why can’t you let me fix my mistakes while I live in regret? I’m trying my best, Y/N.”

Your sympathetic heart felt for him because he was your husband and you were his wife. Despite the loveless marriage, your sacred bond was what made you have this emotional connection with him that no one else in the room would have understood. They could all stay silent listening to you and Satoru fight all day long, but they wouldn’t ever feel the intensity of your emotions because none of them saw pain in your perspective. The pain that you had to suffer as his wife.

How funny was it that you had to endure his actions—his neglect, his insults, and his blatant display of affection towards another woman since at the start of your wedding, but he couldn’t even handle having the same treatment for five minutes?

You’ve woken up to your senses. You could never allow him to destroy you the second time.

“Don’t get carried away,” you said, choosing the words he previously told you and returning it back to him. “You said you never wanted this marriage.”

He clenched his jaws and lost it. “But I want you!”

The intense atmosphere had quickly dissolved when you heard someone sniffing from behind, only to see Sera with tears falling from her lachrymose eyes as she glanced back and forth between you and her lover.

“Sera.”

She didn’t stay for another minute and ran out of the place, wiping her tears as she sobbed from Satoru’s outward display of emotions towards you. You remembered the same scene happening that morning when she had learned about you and your husband sleeping together. Back then, you had felt bad for her for having to witness how his lover was willingly sleeping with someone else despite the conditions of your marriage.

But now, you couldn’t feel any ounce of pity towards the woman who consistently disrespected you to your face.

While Satoru was stuck on his feet deciding whether to chase after Sera or to stay with you, you gave him an answer.

“You should follow her. I think she needs you,” you urged, turning away to focus back into the game. “I don’t wanna be called an attention seeker again.”

You hated that you ruined it for everyone seeing as how Shoko and Suguru were both standing on the side in silence anticipating what their best friend would do.

Don’t they know him well? Because you did. And you knew that his choice wouldn’t be you.

After a heavy sigh, you heard Satoru speak to you one last time. “I’ll talk to you at home.” He disappeared from your sight in a desperate attempt to run after his mistress, who was and always would be his first choice.

Unfortunately, you didn’t prepare your heart for the oncoming surge of pain, because your chest pains came back to subject you into agony and had Ieiri scurrying onto her feet to reach for your GTN spray. After two sprays under your tongue, you were asked to sit back on the couch at the onset of an angina attack. This was exactly why Satoru Gojou was dangerous for you.

And yet, all you could ever think of was one question.

When would you ever come first in your husband’s heart?

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