#unusual muse association

[lyhil]

Unusual Muse Associations - Lyhil

Tagged by @cheddargoblin - thank you!!! I had to think so hard about some of these LOL

Seasoning: Rosemary, Aniseed Mrytle

Weather: the still quiet moment before an echoing crack of thunder

Colour: Purple & Red

Sky: Lilac Dawn

Magical power: Energy Medicine

Plant: Jarrah Trees, Cornflowers

Weapon: Axe & Knife

Subject: Phytology

Social media: Wikipedia forums

Make-up product: Concealer

Candy: Musk Stick

Fear: Returning home, invasive medical procedures / injections / blood transfusions / etc

Ice cube shape: Crescent

Method of long distance travel: boats & air craft and then later, griffon

Piece of stationery: letter opener

Three emojis: 😌💥🔥

Celestial body: Eris

Tagging @harukehn + anyone else who might be interested in this 🫶

[extreme-neutral]

Got re-poked by @ianthedebonair, a good use for a wip draft, so thank you!

Unusual Muse Associations

Cyrus Becker - Nox - Fallen Hero

Seasoning: salt

Weather: foggy

Colors: shades of teal

Sky: before a summer storm - overcast with darkest clouds moving fast with harsh winds

Magical Power: talking with animals

Plant: echeveria (also tempted to say sunflower)

Weapon: poisoned throwing blade

Subject: Computer science, Engineering

Social Media: Live journal (cause it dead)

Makeup Products: I still can't come up with a single association

Candy: yes. Sugar cock. Shut up, I mean like this one

Fear: betrayed trust

Ice cube shape: Mini dicks. Yes, really. 'Cause penis funny. A glass full of tiny penises is hilarious.

Method of Long Distance Travel: train. May be a pickup truck.

Art Style: romanticism

Mythological Creature: Uoroboros

Piece of stationary: unsafe scissors

Three Emojis: 🐕🥲😑

Celestial Body: a comet

[drelldreams]

Unusual Muses Associations

For my OC Vivien Shepard :)

Decided to participate, thx @spacebunshep :)

tagging @uponthenormandy @nerdnproud @mordinette @cr-noble-main @radicalboob @sugarandstories @illusivesoul @sillyliterature @hardcore-like-eezo and anyone who wishes to particupate 🥰

WEATHER: Mild noon summer rain

COLOUR: Golden green

SKY: Bright blue feather cloud sky

MAGICAL POWER: Weather manipulation

HOUSEPLANT: Iris Germania, laced cotton

WEAPON: Sniper

SUBJECT: Angular momentum theory

SOCIAL MEDIA: LinkedIn

MAKEUP PRODUCT: Warm bronzer

FEAR: Having to sacrifice squadmates just like she had to on Virmire.

ICE CUBE SHAPE: Diamond

METHOD OF LONG-DISTANCE TRAVEL: Normandy

ART STYLE: Impressionism

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Nymph

PIECE OF STATIONERY: Speech to text

THREE EMOJIS: 🍷🩰 🏛️

CELESTIAL BODY: Mars

[theoriginalladya]

Unusual Muse Associations

Tagged by @urdnotflexthejedibard. Thank you, friend!

Hmm. I've done Lachlan here. Let's do Caleb this time.

SEASONING: Thyme

WEATHER: Moderate Irish temperatures, slightly overcast with a hint of fog in the air.

COLOR: Green.

SKY: Starry night sky accompanied by the crash of waves below the cliffs near his mother's place in Ireland (where he proposed to Kaidan).

MAGICAL POWER: Some sort of healing power he can uses when his squaddies get hurt in combat

HOUSE PLANT: (I'm terrible with plants) Something with a lot of greenery but a splash of color as well.

WEAPON: Widow sniper rifle, Lancer assault rifle. Though he does use them sometimes, he never really thinks of his biotics as a weapon (he sets Kaidan and Jack as the standard for that and doesn't think he comes near close enough)

SUBJECT: Literature

SOCIAL MEDIA: He's far too private to be on social media

MAKE-UP PRODUCT: none

CANDY: Kaidan gets him hooked on maple sugar candy

FEAR: Having his past start to repeat itself after he finally admits how he feels about Kaidan (read: having those he is closest to torn from him)

ICE CUBE SHAPE: Clover, because what else would you pour good Irish whiskey over?

METHOD OF LONG-DISTANCE TRAVEL: depends on how long distance it is. Out in space, he prefers a frigate like the Normandy.

ART STYLE: his children's (Tadhg and Niamh) after the war.

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Sidhe

PIECE OF STATIONARY: linen paper

THREE EMOJIS: 🫎🍀🥃

CELESTIAL BODY: Orion, the Hunter

Tagging anyone who would like to participate!

[365runesoftheamalgamations]

Unusual Character Associations [ 01 ]

hello and how are you?

Once again going to put the single poor soul into the ringer for a third time and making things its problem bc we are happily answering its call for our participation!

Thanks to the wonderful @fearofahumanplanet for tagging us! You can find its response right here! [ it is of our blood god, the glorious Huītz, so you SHOULD go see it, we love them. ]

Rules? Find the Associations of a Character with each Topic!

Tagging with no pressure: @did-i-do-this-write | @memento-morri-writes | @blind-the-winds and open tag for anyone who wants to join in! c:

Grayland Shade Anderson | Grayland's Shadow

Seasoning : Garlic Powder

Weather : Rain while Sunny | Sunshowers

Color : Lilac | Pale Lavender

Sky : Clouds rolling in, blotting out the Skies, before the Storms

Magical Power : Possession | Monster Tamer

House plant : Mini Rose Bush [ Hybrid Colors ]

Weapon : A sharpened, decorative crystal pocket Knife

Subject : Human Biology | World Religions

Social Media : Instagram

Makeup Product : Concealer | Body Paint

Candy : Caramels

Fear : A Tool | A Sign

Ice cube shape : Miniature Sculptures

Method of long-distance travel : Valet

Art Style : Watercolors

Mythological Creature : a Shade | Immortal

Piece of Stationary : Handwritten Letters

Celestial Body : Jupiter

[firstkeptdaughter]

UNUSUAL MUSE ASSOCIATIONS

Weather: Snow [specific phenomenon: snow donuts]

Sky: Clear vivid, blue sky

Color: Scarlett Red

Magic Power: Necromancy

Houseplant: Delphinum

Weapon: SMG, biotic Slam

Subject: A study of selected 20th century violin pieces

Social Media: LinkedIn

Make Up: Black eyeshadow

Fear: Losing Ori, or messing up her life

Ice Cube: Hexagon or Diamond

Method of Long-distance travel: Normandy

Art style: Abstract

Mythological creature: Siren

Stationery Piece: Fountain Pen

Three Emojis: 🎻🍷📋

Celestial body: Uranus

Tagged by: No one. Stole it, because I couldn’t find a source of this.

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this + @virmireisms

[yuesya]

“They finally found her?”

This is not the first Pillar meeting that was held in recent times, but it is certainly an unusual one, because these meetings are generally never called on such short notice. Pillars have many responsibilities, and are often traveling all over Japan, after all. And yet, Kocho Shinobu can understand the haste in this case; the search for the strange demon slayer whom Rengoku had spoken of had finally borne fruit, and Oyakata-sama wished to meet her.

The strange demon slayer who’d killed Upper Moon Three in combat during nighttime.

All demon slayers know that there are two ways to kill a demon. Decapitation, or sunlight. Yet according to Rengoku’s report, the girl had not gone for either option. Beneath the cold moonlight, she’d sliced Upper Moon Three into pieces with a sword that was not forged of sun-blessed nichirin steel.

How had she done it?

“One of the Tsuchinoto-ranked demon slayers found our mysterious demon slayer,” Shinobu tells her fellow Pillar. “From what I’ve heard, apparently she wasn’t even aware that we were looking for her.”

It was strange that this girl had, according to the Tsuchinoto’s report, never heard of their organization before. Hadn’t even known what ‘demon’ referred to, until the Tsuchinoto had brought up her feat of killing Upper Moon Three. To which the girl had responded with a simple, ‘So that’s what they’re called.’

It’s not unheard of for humans to encounter and kill demons prior to learning about the existence of the Demon Slayers and receiving proper training and support. Shinazugawa Sanemi, the Wind Pillar, had deliberately gone around hunting demons on his own before eventually being recruited… and he had been in a terrible state at the time. If he’d continued as he was, he’d likely only have succeeded in driving himself into an early grave.

If this girl had managed to kill Upper Moon Three, then it meant that she’d been trained –if not specifically in slaying demons, then at least in the art of combat. And yet, Rengoku had said that she hadn’t used any Breathing Style.

Considering that no one had any idea of who she was, or where she’d come from… was it possible that she shared a similar background to Uzui Tengen? Shinobu knows that the man came from a shinobi village hidden away from the world, where children had been trained from birth in the ninja arts.

… But musing endlessly on the various possibilities will get her nowhere. It’s best to see the girl in person first, then make any judgments after.

…

Shinobu’s first impression of her is pretty.

The girl that walks through the set of sliding doors is petite, with delicate features that are almost doll-like. Long white hair, deep blue eyes.

But she’s not pretty in the way that one would say of the loveliness of flowers, or a sun-bright smile. Rather, the girl’s beauty is one that Shinobu associates with the fragrance of wisteria poison, or the sharpness of an open blade.

Dangerous.

Shinobu takes one look at the girl and immediately recognizes that her instincts ring out in warning. But what–?

“Thank you for accepting my request for a meeting,” Oyakata-sama says softly, a gentle smile on his lips. “I am Ubuyashiki Kagaya, ninety-seventh leader of the Demon Slayer Corps.”

“… Gojo Shiki,” the girl names herself, impassive and expressionless.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Oyakata-sama remains amiable. “I understand that you were the one to save Kyojuro. Thank you for–”

Oyakata-sama suddenly breaks off in the middle of his words, harsh coughs wracking his body. Shinobu abandons decorum, scrambling to reach his side; she’s a doctor–

“… It’s alright, Shinobu,” Oyakata-sama shakes his head at her. Blood trickles down from the edge of his mouth, and Shinobu can feel something in her chest twist horribly at the sight.

“No, Oyakata-sama,” Shinobu shakes her head. “Your sickness, it’s getting worse. You need rest, Oyakata-sama–”

“Not while there are still other matters to attend to,” Oyakata-sama rebukes gently, and Shinobu falls silent, biting her lip. “I am touched and grateful for your concern, but I am not yet invalid –and there remains much to be done.”

… Oyakata-sama is not one to shirk his duties, but he can’t go on like this. His body–!

“Is this why you sought me out? Because your curse is killing you?”

Shinobu stiffens, and whirls around.

“What do you mean?” she demands.

“Your oyakata-sama isn’t sick,” the white-haired girl shrugs carelessly, “He’s cursed.”

[cutieeva]

Enslave

Female reader

Warnings : Love bombing. Power abuse. Threats. Coercion. Molestation. Profanity languages. Slut shaming. Rape. Violence. Framing. Attempt home invasion. Molestation.

SYNOPSIS

❛ ผู้หญิง ❜ Muse and Seduction, it is a well known name of the most Luxurious Adult Entertainment Complexe in Thailand also the least respected profession (Y/N) works in, not aware it will soon turn into a memory of calm before the storm in form of a man.

Thailand, a country known for its vibrant culture, rich history, and breathtaking landscapes, also has a complex and multifaceted adult entertainment industry. While it's true that this industry is visible and widespread, it's essential to approach the topic with sensitivity and nuance. From bustling cities like Bangkok and Pattaya to tourist destinations like Phuket and Chiang Mai, adult entertainment venues and services are indeed present. These can range from go-go bars and massage parlors to street workers and karaoke bars offering private rooms to many more and despite the shame and stigma associated with these works, many women still engage in this profession due to limited job opportunities and economic necessity. The pay can be more convenient and immediate compared to other respectable jobs, which may require years of education and experience to achieve similar financial stability.

Alike to the above explanation (Y/N) also choose to work in such environment—All for money and did she succced in having what she wanted ? Yes because the place she works in is called Muse and Seduction, one of the top Adult Entertainment Complexes— it's a adult entertainment where almost all of the sexual activities could be done, separately and wonderfully. It has sections of Cabaret : where dancers perform for their male guests. Private room also known as Lounges : where sex could be given if requested and money are fullfilled. Strips clubs : where adult dances or lap dances available. Sex clubs : only available to VIP members for the privacy of their group sex, fetishes activities and message parlor : to offer erotic messages or intimate service and adult theater : to watch porn without shame and more sections based on how well the adult entertainment complexes is going and her complex has it all that even surprised the past self of (Y/N) who didn't had the slightest idea of such things exist—no she wasn't naïve rather in awe to have so varieties like a deck of cards laid out before her. Despite its grandeur, the complex remained hidden from the public eye, accessible only to those who knew where to look letting her past self marveled at how seamlessly it blended into the surrounding landscape, a testament to the discretion and secrecy that shrouded the adult entertainment industry.

Quickly that time she entered not for the sex work she thought could only pay her rents and shield her from her runaway abusive parents rather at the Cabaret where dancers danced contrast to not being the most skilled or pretty, she impressed the manager with her passion and raw talent. Offered a job on the spot, she found a refuge and purpose in the vibrant world of dance and before she knew it she sat on the position of manager of Cabaret section where she once only stared and worked hard.

"(Y/N) !" The (H/C) haired woman turn around at her name call meeting the eyes of the old general manager who's wiping his sweat yet a smile plastered on his lips.

"Yes, sir". Politely she asked having a hint of some excitement news to be heard noticing the uncontrollable smile and fire on his eyes.

The air was electric as he made the announcement, his face splitting into a wide, toothy grin. "Today, a very, very, very special guest is coming!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious yet puzzling.

She raised an eyebrow, her head tilting slightly to one side. VVVIP visitors weren't uncommon in their establishment, but the level of excitement radiating from him was unusual. Whoever this guest was, they must be incredibly influential and wealthy to warrant such anticipation.

Her (E/C) eyes watched him practically bounce with energy, a shiver ran down her spine. She couldn't shake the feeling that this visit might bring trouble, particularly for the women who work here. A nagging sense of unease settled in the pit of her stomach, her mind racing with the possibility that someone might be coerced into doing something against their will.

"Understood". She dry chuckle, darting eyes to her pratice hall and to the general manager.

"That's why you also need to perform today". Ah ! No wonder he came to her because despite being a manager she still performs for the double money she is paid.

"So the party is hosted in here ?" Insinuating her sections making the general manager nod.

"Yes, unfortunately they want entertainment to be amused not pleasure". The grin turn into a scoff merely thought of lost profits, his eyes clouding with disappointment.

"They ? Didn't you just said one guest ?" (Y/N) was confused.

"Oh—actually it's group of men from a wealthy company but in mist of that is the golden egg would be". Oh ! She sink the information so rather than entertainment, it's to secure a lucrative deal. The company was willing to do whatever it took to secure success. What a classic tactic.

"Okay, please state the time, date and all the needed details". He nod giving her the paper written all the instruction. "Well then I goona go". Waving gently she enter her dance hall.

Tomorrow at 8:30 pm with Chinese Silk dance theme.

"So, the man is Chinese ? Or have those liking ?" She thought so for better she would single out the Chinese girls just for their safety to not caught the eyes of animalistic men.

Night descended, darkness enveloped the world, like an inky shroud suffocating all in its grasp. Yet, the moon, now a silver crescent in the sky, cast an ethereal glow, as if to defy the all-consuming shadows. Stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse, their gentle sparkle a beacon of hope.

(Y/N) stood transfixed, her gaze riveted on the clock's ticking hands, mere moments away from striking 8:30 pm. She inhaled deeply, the air filling her lungs like a promise of new beginnings. "Today has to be perfect" she whispered to herself, a fervent wish born of hope and determination.

In her mind's eye, she envisioned a evening unfolding with grace and harmony, each moment a delicate brushstroke on the canvas of time. No embarrassing missteps, no unwilling participants, just a gentle, pleasant tone that would soothe the souls. The clock's ticking grew louder, a countdown to a symphony of perfection, as (Y/N) steeled herself for the moments to come, her heart beating in rhythm with the night's dark beauty.

"Beauties. Everything has to be perfect and do not worry I am here to protect you okay ?" Once more she reassure the women standing in a row each one a vision of elegance and mystery. Golden jewels encircled their arms, a radiant contrast to their varied skin tones, like sunlight dancing across a canvas of diverse beauty. The traditional Chinese dresses, with their revealing midriffs and flowing slit sleeves, seemed to shimmer in the soft light, as if the very fabric was alive. Their face however remained hidden behind delicate veils, a whispered promise of secrets and allure. The veils, like silken whispers, caressed their skin, casting an air of enchantment and subtle mystery seemed to embody the essence of ancient Chinese beauty, where subtlety and restraint whispered tales of untold stories.

"Yes mam". Each one in unison spoke with confidence knowing their mentor for several years.

"Hey (Y/N) I needed—" A man holding few papers walked in the practice hall when he frozen in his root staring at (Y/N) who turn around giving his amber eyes the look of her dress mirroring the several women however he appeared to be mesmerized by her.

"Oh manager Somchai, is there anything I can help you with ?" Jewels trembled with each her step, unleashing a cascade of sparkling light, like tiny stars waltzing across her (S/C) skin.

"Oh—Ah—I-I-I-I forget". Few laughes escape from the women behind (Y/N) watching the bar manager make a fool out of himself.

"Hush ! It's unladylike". In swept the crowd held their laugh at their own manager's scold yet few roll their eyes knowing it was harmless. "Excuse them". (Y/N) apologies to Somchai who shake his head still unable to part his lips and hide the tip of blush on his ears.

"So, how can I help ?" She repeated holding her own smile, catching his flustered face.

"I-I— it's the list of drinks that the guests should buy for our profits". Quickly he shoved the paper on her hand surprising her and himself at the rough action. "I-I am sorry". Closing his eyes, his tense hands clap together in forgiveness along the rigid fingers intertwined, forming a tight knot, like a prayer offered to the heavens. The sudden, earnest movement was almost comical, yet endearing, making her giggle at the sweet, silly gesture. The contrast between his serious expression and the childish motion only added to the charm, rendering her helpless against the tide of amusement that swept over her.

"W-what happen ?" The way his innocent doe eyes stare at her never would anyone unaware of his profession could assume he works in an adult industry.

"Nothing. You are so endearing". And as she expected his entire face burst into flame creating a teasing ohh from the women who ship them together hard earn a harsh "Shut up". From their senior.

"Thank you". Finally without stuttering he smiled and part his lips to speak when the clock's loud tick reverberated through the air, signaling the precise moment of 8:30 pm.

"Oh—I am sorry I must go". Swiftly she offered apologies, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't be". He disagree, silently encouraging her at their eye contact making her smile wider. Without anymore utters she led the procession of women, their golden jewels glinting in the soft light. At the threshold, (Y/N) paused, her slender fingers fluttering as she donned her own veil at the last moment, the delicate fabric whispering against her skin.

"Everyone ready to go ?"

"Yes". They mutter lightly. (Y/N) take a deep, calming breath as she pushed open the door, and a warm, golden light enveloped them, like a gentle caress. The room was aglow with sensual ambiance, the soft glow of table lamps and floor lights casting a hypnotic spell. The guests, already seated on plush, velvety sofas, turned to regard the newcomers, their faces bathed in the warm, golden radiance. Beers chilled on an opulent, dark-wood table, adorned with delicate, crystal glasses, reflecting the soft light like tiny, shimmering mirrors.

Soft, melodic music whispered through the air, weaving a subtle spell of relaxation and indulgence, as (Y/N) and her companions glided into the room, their veils shimmering like moonlit mist, their long, flowing sleeves rustling softly, like leaves in an autumn breeze. The atmosphere was alive with anticipation, the scent of perfume and the promise of mystery hanging heavy in the air, like the whispered promise of a secret shared among friends.

"Thank you for your services. We shall begin". her voice dripped in honeyed sweetness greeted the awaiting men as her eyes swept across the room, scanning for the golden man the general manager spoken of and then, in an instant, her gaze landed on him—an aged man, with a stomach as round as a full moon, adorned in the finest, most lavish attire, from the glittering gold chain around his neck to the diamond-encrusted watch on his wrist.

Her eyes narrowed. "He must be the one". Sighing deeply she bowed gracefully with a subtle, enigmatic smile, her body begin dancing like unfolding a lotus flower, petals of movement swirling around her. The men's screams of delight and admiration crescendoed, their eyes aglow with hunger and desire, yet she remained an untouchable, ethereal vision. Her dance was a masterful symphony of seduction and grace, each step, each gesture, a testament to her skill and artistry.

As she danced, she wove in and out of the tables, pouring wine with a flourish, her hands moving in tandem with the other women, who mirrored her movements with precision. The liquid gold flowed like a river, filling the glasses, as she continued to enthrall her audience, her body swaying, twirling, and bending in impossible ways.

Regardless of the provocative nature of her dance, she maintained an air of detachment, her skin never once touching the eager hands that reached out to her. Her eyes, like a hawk's, scanned the room, ever vigilant, ensuring none of the men dared touch her or her junior companions. The other women, too, seemed to be under her protection, their eyes locked on hers, moving in perfect synchrony, a testament to their trust and loyalty. The men, entranced by the spectacle, remained at a safe distance, their longing and desire hanging in the air like a palpable mist, yet they knew better than to cross the unspoken boundary. She was a queen, a goddess, and they mere mortals, privileged to witness her glory and forbidden to touch.

Soon the music reached its crescendo, (Y/N)'s dance came to a smooth, graceful close, like a summer breeze gently caressing the skin. The room, electrified by her performance, exhaled a collective sigh of relief and admiration. Though some of the men, entranced by her beauty, had attempted to brush their hands against hers, they had respectfully refrained from any further advances, acknowledging the unspoken boundary. The VVVIP guest, too, had maintained his dignity, his eyes never leaving (Y/N)'s face, yet his hands remained clasped together, a indication to his self-control. With a satisfied smile, he raised his glass in a silent toast, and drank, savoring the moment.

As the final notes of the music faded away, (Y/N) and her companions bowed, their movements fluid and synchronized and they departed like a gentle whisper, a soft breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers, leaving the men to ponder the memory of their enchanting performance.

Free-spirited and unencumbered, (Y/N) and her companions walk outside the hallway, sharing laughter and whispers echoing down the corridor.

"Today was fun".

"How amazing".

"Thankfully they knew the rules to not mess even the VVVIP was respectful unlike some of the others".

"This is my first time performing Chinese dance ?"

"Really ? Well I am Chinese but never did I also danced so sensually".

"But (Y/N) was best".

"Of course she would be when she is our senior".

Their joys whispered to one another filling (Y/N)'s ears in relief nothing unfortunate occur to one of the women and god forbid— to her. Wiping the line of sweat from her forehead she walked to their resting room passing through the living hall where main events of dances held.

"HELP ! HELP—". A cry of help echoed the room following with a loud thud alike to a slap making all the women wince.

"What was that ?"

"Isn't it sound like a woman ?"

"Also a slap ?"

"I am scared".

A knot of unease twisted in (Y/N)'s stomach, like a pit of pooling darkness, as her mind conjured the worst assumptions. A envision of woman, desperate and trapped, crying out for help in a place where hope seemed lost. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and without hesitation.

"Girls ! Go !". She commanded her workers to retreat to their quarters, their faces etched with concern.

With a deep breath, (Y/N) steeled herself, her determination burning brighter than her fear. She barged into the lavish hall, the doors swinging open with a soft crash, like a declaration of war. The room, once filled with laughter and music, now seemed tainted, its opulence mocking her. Her eyes scanned the space, searching for the source of her unease, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum.

Until her (H/C)'s eyes fell upon a scene that made her blood boil, a tableau of cruelty that seared itself into her mind. A man, his face twisted in a snarl, sat atop a woman, her body helpless and trembling, her clothes torn and disheveled. He laughed, a cold, mirthless sound, as he cursed with his words coated with venom while the woman's cries, like a wounded animal, filled the air with her sobs as the man rape her in front of others.

The room, once a haven of indulgence, transform into a den of depravity. Some men, seated on a large sofa, laughed and jeered, their faces flushed with excitement, while others watched with a mixture of fascination and disgust. A few, attempting to distance themselves from the scene, silently drank their plain disgust by the beers, their eyes averted, however their presence still complicit.

Red. (Y/N)'s vision was consumed by a sea of red, a crimson haze that fueled her fury. In an instant, she sprang into action, her movements swift and deadly, wordlessly she launched herself at the man, ripping him away from the woman with a strength born of rage. The sound of crashing furniture and shouting men filled the air as she hurled him aside, the group scattering in surprise.

Her eyes scanned the room frantically, searching for something to cover the woman's exposed form. But there was nothing —no cloth, no blanket, no shred of dignity left. So, with a swift motion, (Y/N) grasped the nearest ground mat, tearing it from the floor, and wrapped it around the woman's shivering body, shielding her from prying eyes.

That's when the same man lashed out, his hand closing around her forearm like a vice. (Y/N)'s jaw clenched in pain, her eyes flashing with anger, as she gazed straight into the man's raging eyes, their faces inches apart. "Why is he angry ? No—how dare he is angry ?" Complex emotions once more fueling her brain, hatred spite for the man so far her fingers itch to slit his throat and watch him bleed to death.

"No. No. No. No. (Y/N) you can't do it. Stay calm. Stay calm". Her inner rational self repeated after all the power held is by men not women.

"You fucking bitch ! What do you think you are ! Fucking cunt ? How dare you lay a hand on me ?" The man twisted (Y/N)'s arm only for her to stood firm, her eyes blazing with defiance. Pain was nothing new, and she refused to yield, her silence a challenge to his dominance.

Holding her trembling fist—not from fear rather from anger she calmly utter. "Dear customer, this section is cabaret not private room so please refrain from doing sexual activ—".

"Fuck you woman ! You all are slut what happens if I fuck one of you". Tension weighted heavy on his offensive words suffocating even her lungs by the audacity of this man. How dare ? How dare this man found the chest to spoke about them. This illiterate garbage.

"It seems you are illiterate because the meaning of cabaret is dancers in our complex. Pardon us for not explaining actually, we didn't knew an uneducated person would come to our threshold". Blazing her (E/C) eyes into the man, his grip tighten and she felt the heat of his body underneath the fat meat.

"What did you say you bitch—".

"Or are you perhaps deaf too ?" Her voice not a lace with sarcastism or mock. It's purely fill with rage. Rage of being helpless, useless and shame. Because no matter how this man violented the innocent woman and assulted (Y/N), the fact still stands—he is their customer.

Despicable. (Y/N)'s throat felt dry and cracked at the fact, as if the man's crushing grip had drained the last drop of moisture from her body. The pain was numbed by her revulsion and anger, emotions that seethed like a cauldron as she gazed up at his face, illuminated by the eerie purple and pink lights above. His features, once human, now seemed twisted and grotesque, a stark contrast to the inhumane actions that belied his civilized facade. Tears of rage swelled over her vision, casting a blurry veil over the scene, yet she continued to stare, transfixed by the horror of it all. A twisted sense of guilt slithered in, its dark tendrils wrapping around her heart, whispering cruel lies of blame and shame, as the colorful lights above seemed to mock her, casting an otherworldly glow on the nightmare unfolding below.

The door finally burst open again, this time however by the security guards. They finally trapped the man, even tearing his iron grip that left purple bruises—her eyes stare. This will heal, but what about the innocent woman ? The woman's who crimson blood flow out of her private part in front of so many eyes ? (Y/N) will have her untainted skin back without bruises but can the woman have her virginity back she oh so hard frought only to lose. Sorrows finally slide down mourning the unconsciously woman as she bend down, helping the cloth to prevent her nudity from exposing in process her eyes met a onyx eyes, a depthless pool of intensity that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken emotions burning with a fierce inner fire that she couldn't quite decipher regardless of the black spectacles that meant to conceal, only seemed to accentuate the piercing quality of his eyes. Quickly she avert the burning gaze. "He is no different than that man". Snarling her face, she walk not knowing his sight was set on her from the very moment she step inside.

She find herself sit outside the makeshift medical area, her eyes fixed on the curtain that shielded the woman's privacy. Beside her, the private female doctor, a specialist in treating victims of abuse, tended to the woman's wounds with gentle hands as the moonlight's pear through the window shimmering her unremoved outfit. Suddenly, the general manager burst into the room, his face etched with concern. However, he halted outside the curtain, respecting the woman's privacy. (Y/N) rose to meet him, her eyes questioning.

"What happen ?" she asked, her voice low.

The manager's eyes darted to the curtain, then back to (Y/N). "The security told me everything. Is she g-going to be okay ?"

"Yes but—". She paused, expression somber. "Her clit has tore, virginity is take away that's why it will cause her a lot of trauma". The manager nodded, his face set in a determined expression.

"So, she might not able to work right ?" Before (Y/N) could answer the female doctor pull the curtains closed.

"Yes, she isn't at the headspace to do. I am even afraid that it might also cause a trauma of men which is very much about this job". Discreetly (Y/N)'s fingers curl into fist holding the urge to suffer the perpetrater.

"Gosh ! Why did it had to happen in front of the VVVIP man". The man mutter a curse. "Our reputation and woman is lost face in front of him". A frown ink in between (Y/N)'s brows.

"What ? VVVIP ? But he was entertained and happy. We did our job perfectly". Pluzzed she elaborate. "Also sue the man not the innocent woman".

"I never want to sue the woman. It's not at all her fault rather I am angry at the man because that asshole is the one who last minute came here change the perfect schedule of attending your dance instead went to the living hall dance with completely different setting. A modern one".

"What ?" A grasp lip past her.

"Who was it ?"

"A man with black suit, black spectacles and his name is Wang Ji-Hyuk, he is a Korean man but his entire business is at China that's why we choose a chinese traditional theme also it was said by the asshole but he ruined it !" Fumes smoking out of his ears. "I am goona sue him". Bit his lips, he dial the number of the said VVVIP (Y/N) mistook.

"Wait ! So that man from before ?" (Y/N)'s mind reeled as a quick flashback assaulted her senses, transporting her back to the living hall mere seconds ago. She relived the moment when her gaze met the VVVIP's, the intensity of his stare still seared into her memory. But before she could even process her thoughts, the general manager's urgent grip on her arm yanked her back to reality.

"He's still outside, we should apologize," He whispered hastily, dragging her toward the door.

(Y/N)'s confusion deepened as she stumbled alongside him. Apologize? For what? She couldn't fathom what she had done wrong. The VVVIP's behavior had unsettled her of how a man so boredly sat and watched a woman get rape is truly inhumane, what apologize does she own to the VVVIP ? For protesting against the rape ? Protecting a innocent woman ? Or causing a scene unnecessary. Her thoughts swirled in a jumbled mix of emotions as she struggled to keep up with the general manager's rapid pace. Why were they apologizing? What part was her fault? None, she believes. Still the questions swirled in her mind like a vortex, leaving her bitter.

At the reception, they found the said man standing with his back to them, his imposing figure radiating an aura of authority. The soft hum of conversation and gentle clinking of foot filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside (Y/N).

Just as they approached, the head manager's voice cut through the calm, "Ah, sir, I see you're still here."

The VVVIP's back stiffened, and he slowly turned around, his movements deliberate and calculated and he faced them, his eyes locked onto (Y/N)'s once more, the intensity of his gaze making her heart skip a beat.

Time seemed to suspend as their eyes met, the air thickening with tension. The general manager's words of apology died on his lips, and the head manager's smile faltered, sensing the changed atmosphere. Pursing his lips, he nudge her hand allowing her to look away.

"W-we are sorry. Extremely sorry for the lack of professional and such unpleasant scenes to be caused". What ? What was her lips utter ? The way her mouth moved, forming words of apology, as if driven by a force beyond her control. Her voice was barely audible, a mere whisper, as she spoke the words she didn't mean to say. Her head bent down, weighed by the shame that wasn't hers to bear.

She felt like a puppet, her body no longer her own, but a mere marionette controlled by invisible strings. Her limbs moved, her lips spoke, but her mind was a distant observer, helpless to stop the charade.

The man's gaze still held her captive, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to strip her of her autonomy. She was a leaf blown by the wind, a feather tossed by the breeze, completely at the mercy of forces beyond her control.

"Yes, we are very sorry". The head manager bow respectfully making the VVVIP tilts his head.

His voice was laced with a jaded tone, as he asked "Are you ?" The words hung in the air, a lazy drawl that seemed to imply he already knew the answer.

"Yes we are—" His gaze shifted, those onyx eyes slicing through the manager like a knife.

"Not you". He said, not hiding the disdain as the manager's words were cut off, left dangling in the air like a severed thread.

His eyes narrowed, returned on (Y/N) solely. "Her" He said, the single word a cold, calculated stab.

A gulp pass through her throat fighting the conflict of emotions ranging all together among his gaze piercing through her like a challenge, a dare to deny the truth he already knew and the air vibrate with tension pressuring her to say something against her will even if it's the truth.

"Yes". No. "We are very sorry for the inconvenience". As soon as they passed her lips, a look of disappointment settled upon his face, like a shadow cast by a cloud. His onxy eyes, once piercing and intense, now seemed to regard her with a disinterest that was almost worse than his earlier disdain. He turned away, his movements economical and precise, as if he had already dismissed her from his thoughts.

The head manager's words, a futile attempt to salvage the situation, trailed after him like a forgotten echo. "Sir, please, let us—" However he didn't so care to offer the head manager a face going out leaving a exhausted (Y/N) from the long journey she endured today. Hopefully he never comes back is what she wishes.

A wish that is bluntly ignored by the gods or heavens above after the next day he shown his face once again like a calm before the storm.

"O my gosh ! He came again !" The manager appeared to be in elated mood. "Also he requested for you specially !"

"Alone for me ?" He nod excitedly as if he were to dance in front of the VVVIP. A tangled web of emotions evocated her like : revulsion, obligation, and fear wrestled for dominance as she was asked to dance alone for the same man whose behavior had disgusted her. Her mind recoiled at the thought, her heart heavy with the weight of conflicting emotions. The memory of his jaded gaze at the living hall scene made her skin crawl, her body trembling with the effort to suppress her true feelings. Uncertainty and powerlessness shrouded her, like a ship torn from its anchor, adrift in a stormy sea. "Understood". As common it was such unfortunate things for women to happen in this industry she learnt the past years to forget those memories as soon as possible.

"What is the theme ?" She asked.

"No theme". He answered. "Also he has bring a dress only for you to wear". He added causing a tension.

"What kind ?"

"You will see once you wear". Giggly he answered.

Soon the answer was present as her feet glided into the room, her (slender/plump/bony) figure draped in a flowing, silvery-white gown that cascaded down her body like a river of moonlight. The dress, crafted from the finest silk, hugged her curves with a soft, ethereal glow, its smooth texture catching the light with every subtle movement and the gown's neckline rose to her jaw, framing her heart-shaped face with delicate precision. Around her chest, layers of flowery, silvery-white fabric bloomed like a whispered secret, adding a touch of whimsy and romance to her overall allure.

While her shoulders were cushioned by puffed sleeves that fell to her forearms, leaving a tantalizing expanse of skin visible beneath. The sleeves themselves were a masterclass in subtle drama, with delicate folds and creases that added depth and visual interest to the overall design. As she moved, the gown's silken fabric rustled softly, releasing tiny whispers of sound that seemed to match the beating of her heart. The hem of the dress swept the floor with a gentle, lapping motion, like waves caressing the shore.

"How can I dance in this properly ?" (Y/N) asked noticing the man's eyes glossing over the material.

He ignore her question. "It must be expensive. Because you of course looked beautiful but now you look drop dead gorgeous". A strained smile came to her lips despite feeling the nagging rings on her stomach.

"Thank you". The old man waved his hand.

"Okay, now go ! Go fast". Pushing her back tenderly (Y/N) was faced to face into a private room with Ji-Hyun.

"Thank you for requesting me, Mr. Wang—".

"You look beautiful". His gazed at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I imagined." His eyes devoured her, drinking in every inch of her being, as if attempting to memorize her contours. His gaze lingered, branding her image onto his soul, claiming her as his own. Time seemed to bend, stretching out the seconds as he feasted his eyes upon her like the world around him melting away.

"Thank you". Nervously she thanked. "So, Mr. Wang, what dance would you—".

"Sit".

"Huh ?" She felt her ears misheard. "I said sit". Perhaps not because her sight followed his palm patting the cushion beside him causing her heart sink.

"I cannot".

"Why ?" Almost like an genuinely question he asked.

"Because I am here to dance not to talk if you want to talk, you can go to the host section where women will talk—".

"I know," he drawled, his tone laced with ennui along his face unreadable. Yet, his next words dripped with intention: "But I want you." The phrase hung like a challenge, freighted with unspoken consequences.

She began asking, "What do you—". But he truncated her inquiry.

"Well, I'm not here to talk, rather to propose something only to you". The hidden meaning behind his words sent her heart racing, as multiple worst-case scenarios flashed through her mind like a chilling slideshow. "That's why sit down". She obeyed regardless of her mind commanding the opposite.

"Good". A smile curve finally. "So, I want you to be my girlfriend".

Silence. For few seconds the words pass her mind registering not to process rather how to defy without offending because he isn't the first person to offer such kind of want from her, many did and will in the future for sure.

"You mean, sir. You want to have sexual relationship with me ?" He must be, because no man in their right mind would offer a cabaret dancer to be their girlfriend for romance unless it involves the sexual favors. Right ?

"I do". She bit her bottom lips. "However I want full ownership of yours. Like partners do. I want to be your boyfriend not just a sexual client to satisfy my needs". Ji-Hyuk with straight face explained, his piercing eyes bore into hers.

"Ownership ?" She is at loss. Truly, because men offered their advances for her services she crearly doesn't work for—never confess their love.

"Yes. I crave a bond that goes beyond mere physical satisfaction. I want to own your heart, just as you own mine." The intensity of his emotions left her breathless, his words echoing in her mind like a promise of forever she didn't ask nor want. Uncomfortable flooded her body, confuse to know the right way to react to a VVVIP guest who suddenly profess his love for her when she met twice or more like met eyes twice.

"What if I reject ?" Her own voice whispered in the almost silent room if overlooking the light pleasant music from behind. Her fingers dug in the cloth that isn't belong to her to earn comfort.

"Why would you ? I have everything a woman needs in a partner so you shouldn't have to reject me". His nonchalant attitude was eerie to her and it gave her the answer she needed. She can't reject him. She shouldn't. Because the way his gaze pinned her, heavy with expectation. The dress, a luxurious trap over her body along his weight with unspoken threats with the air thickened seem to have clear his intention. He isn't here to hear no. Let alone from a woman like her who's expected to be impressed, to be grateful, and to accept thoughtless like a doll to buy and show off.

Still she choose to say. "I am sorry but I can't, sir. I am very very sorry". More than the consequences she fears her freedom stolen, controlled and tramped by a wealthy man she is yet to even know.

"Okay," Ji-Hyuk said, his voice flat and emotionless, like a door slamming shut. He turned and walked away, leaving the dancer alone in the private room, surrounded by the suffocating silence. The soft click of the door echoed through the space, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside her. His abrupt departure left her thoughts reeling, anxiety swirling like a maelstrom, as she struggled to decipher the true meaning behind his enigmatic answer.

Was it a genuine understanding, or a cleverly disguised manipulation? The uncertainty hung in the air, a heavy fog that refused to lift. Soon the head manager burst into the room, his face flushed with urgency, and demanded

"What's going on? Why did he leave so abruptly ?" His voice was laced with a mix of frustration and concern. However, (Y/N) was too engrossed in her own thoughts to acknowledge his presence similar to Ji-Hyuk, who sat in the backseat of his luxurious car, puffing on a cigarette, his eyes gazing into the distance. His mind with how first and hard he fallen in love, and the rejection that came with it. The smoke from his cigarette swirled around him dwelling him to how he fell.

Trash. He thought, the moment these Thailand business men invited him to a Adult Entertainment Complex, he already judged them and cancelled the deal in his mind. Because two types of men are pathetic, one if they are consumed by greed lost rationality and another drown in lust lost control by their lower part that's why he doesn't make deals with entertainment industry, with what tragedy did he accepted their proposal. Huh ? Merely thinking of the chaos he is about to witness create a mirgrane however he still decided to go, why ? Because he wanted some relaxment too however his meaning of relaxment wasn't watching a barely adult woman getting rape by one of the trash from the Thailand worker.

"I regret coming here". He thought drinking the bitter beer. Gosh, he should have ordered wine, beer never suited his taste nor his class what father told him and he was right. Dull the mood has transformed and he outstretched his hand to his private secretary when the door bust open by a woman, a beautiful one and clearly from this industry judging from her Chinese theme clothes marched with pure rage towards the trash.

Intrigue fill his interest, he partly expected the woman to be naïve and display her emotions however he was beyond delightful to find her compose yet fierce personality. The way her eyes twitch yet not a wince slip her lips when he twist her arm, the way her delicate jaw clench in anger and those (E/C)'s burn like flames and the light hues from above shone at her so beautifully, gorgeously, he wished right there and that moment to claim her as his especially given his initial disappointment with her timid apology before departed the complex.

But now, Ji-Hyuk's lips curled into a sly smirk, the cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth, as he savored the unexpected turn of events. "She rejected me". She isn't as timid as he thought who needed a little push to be claimed instead turn out to be a little firecracker, who knew exactly when to withhold her flames, leaving him intrigued and wanting more. Her rejection was a tantalizing challenge, a hint of a deeper intelligence and inner strength that he found irresistible. A smart woman, one who could match wits and defy expectations, was a far more captivating prize than a naive, submissive one.

"(Y/N)!" The manager's sharp voice cut through her intense focus, snapping her back to reality. She blinked, her gaze shifting from the task at hand to the manager's expectant face.

"Yes, manager? Why did you come?" she asked, her tone measured, but her mind still reeling from the sudden interruption. Lately the manager has been coming to her a lot from the moment that VVVIP's existence came—her throat constricted, memories of the previous day's conversation with Ji-Hyuk flooding her senses.

"What conversation did you had with him ?" Her (E/C)'s eyes stare at his unusual stress expression.

(Y/N) paused, her eyes avert from his.

"So, I want you to be my girlfriend".

"However I want full ownership of yours. Like partners do. I want to be your boyfriend not just a sexual client to satisfy my needs".

"Nothing special". Lies smoothly roll her tongue.

"Is it really nothing special ? Really ?" The manager asked, his voice raising enough for to flinch.

"Why ? Yes, nothing special". In low voice she said, as her palm reached out to placate the middle-aged man. Her hand made contact with his shoulder, a gentle touch that spoke of reassurance. While a quick smile to others who stare at the raised voice.

"Then explain why did not only that Thailand business company cut our services but also all of our Thailand business companies !" (Y/N)'s eyes widened, a mixture of confusion and dawning recognition swirling within them. The manager's words hung in the air like a challenge, forcing her to confront the unspoken questions she had brushed off earlier. Why were there fewer people than usual today ? And now, all of their Thailand business companies? No. It can't be. Why did he leave with such a short "okay" if he was going to take this step ?

"Look ! (Y/N), you are my long term employee, I have watched you from the start of your life in this grey world of lust and men so I know you wouldn't do something to hurt our complex, will you ? No right ?" Immediately she shake her head. "That's why tell me if you said some offense words, we can apologize to him and correct the mistake". Past his calm voice suggesting, (Y/N) could clearly see his trembling hands.

"How did you know it's him. It could be anybody more powerful". She questioned, not want to confront the reality just yet. How could she ? After she rejected him ? If indeed he is behind the work, the cabaret manager can't limit her imagine of how power he has in his palm.

"Because, today every single Thailand client called at the same time, canceling their services. Of course I forcefully asked one of them where he told me the truth that a powerful person ordered them". He revealed. "And Mr. Wang is one of the top business man who has hands all over the Thailand industry even if the companies don't work together, it's easy to pull strings of connection". (Y/N)'s gut twisted into knots, her stomach churning with a sense of foreboding. The weight of the manager's words settled upon her, making her feel like she was drowning in a sea of responsibility. The pressure was suffocating, each breath a struggle as she tried to process the magnitude of the situation.

With a sense of resignation, she nodded her head, agreeing to take the fall for the mistake. "I'll go apologize," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt like a betrayal, a admission of guilt that she didn't fully understand.

"Then let's go ! We must hurry to seal the deal". Excitedly the manager without sparing a look at her, guide her to outside.

Why ? Why ? Why ? Why ? Why ? Why ? WHY ? like a annoying ring on her head spin around making her unconsciously deep her crescent scars on her skin. Like a holding her inner demons to explode. How ? Why ? How can fate always make her the victim of pathetic humans ? Huh ? Why she ? Wasn't her inhumane father trying sell his own daughter for few dollars enough that fate somehow brought a man to toy her entire meticulous bulit like crumble down. Yes, Roman wasn't built in one day but it sure burned in one day.

A cruel reminder that even the strongest foundations can be razed by the whims of fate.

Clenching her jaw, her heavy feet step towards the destiny she very much fears at the same time loathes. That's when a hand hold her wrist spinning her around and her eyes wide seeing the man.

"Hello, Mr. Wang. Thank you very very very much for letting us in. The fault entirely lies on us that's why Miss. (L/N) came to apologize with me". Forcing his hand together he plead in front of the Ji-Hyuk who across him sat lounged on the massive sofa, his casual attire—a light blue shirt with white line strips and grey trousers —a stark contrast to the gravity of the tense situation. One leg crossed over the other, his back leaned against the plush cushions, exuding an air of relaxed superiority while his gaze was fixed intently on the woman beside the manager. (Y/N) herself sat rigidly, her posture a picture of tense contrition. Her head bowed, chin tucked in, and jaw clenched in a tight line. Fingers curled into fists, her hands rested on her lap, betraying the turmoil brewing beneath her subdued exterior. A portrait of contained anguish.

Reading the obvious implication of his attention over her. The manager nudged her arm to which she part her lip. "Mr. Wang, please forgive me if any of my words that I didn't knew held much power offend you personally that's why I am sorry". She bow slightly. "Hopefully you can look past my mistakes and still continue to be in our services".

Click ! The soft scratch of the sliver lighter to a fleeting spark, and the gentle whoosh of flame embracing tobacco. Ji-Hyuk's eyes never left (Y/N) as he raised the cigarette to his lips, the tip dancing with each inhale. He smoked with deliberate slowness, exhaling wispy tendrils of smoke that curled around his words. His gaze, calm and collected, held (Y/N) captive as he spoke, his voice low and even. "So, will you finally accept the proposal you rejected?"

The woman swears she doesn't need a glance to feel her higher up head swirl to her side with perplexed written.

"If I do, will you continue to be in our services and spread good words among other business ?" His eyebrows rise in intrigue and the message clearly send to cut the trouble and make it back to normal.

"This". A gleam of satisfy flicker in his eyes. This passion, fire was he expecting from the woman he desires and he wasn't disappointed.

"Yes. Will you be my girlfriend". He asks, a question from his side however a taunt to her after all, 'no' was never an answer.

"Yes". Finally a smile touch upon his lips along his eyes crinkled at the corners.

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏' 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚

After the chaos subsided and (Y/N), her boss drove out of the mansion by his personal driver, the air was electric with the buzzing of phones. The screens lit up with notifications, a flurry of activity that signaled the return of Thailand's services—and more. New companies, behemoths in their industries, had flocked to Ji-Hyuk's empire, eager to tap into his influence. The sheer scale of it all was suffocating. (Y/N) felt a wave of disgust wash over her as she realized the true extent of Ji-Hyuk's power. He had effortlessly manipulated the situation, bending the world to his whim. The thought made her skin crawl, her anger simmering just below the surface.

She was nothing but a tiny, insignificant doll in his vast playground, subject to his every caprice. He could trample her, walk all over her, and she was powerless to stop him. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, her resentment growing with each passing moment. Snatching her wrist, she glance at the decorative lights of the cities with moon light donning from above and the next thing she knew she found herself standing in a cramped, dimly lit room, surrounded by the faint scent of perfume and smoke. She was dressed in a revealing theme outfit, her reflection staring back at her from a mirror-lined wall like usual ready to entertain the customer alongside her coworkers, equally dazzling in their attire, bustled around her, their chatter and laughter a cacophony in her ears.

Suddenly, the door slid open revealing Ji-Hyuk and the enigmatic owner of Muse and Seduction she never been lucky to catch glimpse of, stood before her. Mutters ring behind her, reeling her mind and she watched him come near her.

'𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

"From now onwards you aren't allowed to dance ever again". And her entire world crumble down once again.

"Am I getting fired ?" She swears, (Y/N) swears to not sweep desperation and hurried in her voice however her eyes also betrayed her vulnerably in front of the same man her fate is controlled by.

"No. You are just only allowed to work for me". Ji-Hyuk replied nonchalant as if he didn't taking away her dancing too, the only source of her income and comfort of identity.

𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚

"Can I reject ?" She tries but she was aware of the defeat the moment his eyes racked over her figure and the owner of her complex cleared his throat.

Her answer doesn't matter. Never did and will. How unfair as her (E/C)'s in agonizing slow motion as her juniors slipped away, one by one, into the private rooms without her felt fresh twist of the knife hollow her inside.

Never again.

Suddenly the sanctuary, being to transform into a shrinking cage as its walls closing in with oppressive force, squeezing the last vestiges of hope from her lungs. Suddenly every tick of the clock was a countdown to her demise, suddenly the silence seems to be a uncomfortable noise she can't ignore and eyes of his heavy like a death warrant above.

Softly, she breathed: "Are you satisfied?" Her whisper hung in the air, a fragile question mark, as her gaze remained fixed on the empty space where the women had vanished, their absence a haunting echo.

A smirk lift his lip and with a sign of hand Ji-Hyuk command the owner to leave the couple alone to which he obeyed.

"Yes". Anticipation bumble within him as he stare at her waiting for the gaze to be returned.

She looked at him.

Chill. Straight chills ran through his body the way her numbed eyes bore into his, as if she could see right though his soul. Oh ! The taste of breaking a strong woman is like conquering a fire with bare hands. His fingers tremble to touch her.

So he did. Snake his hands around her waist and tighten the hug almost burying her into him.

𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏' 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌.

"How about we spend the night together. Alone, only you and me ?" The question mark lingered, a sly taunt, as if daring her to respond but she knew better. Only humans are worthy of consent or choice, not a pig, even the one who is about to be butchered. No one asks a pig if it wants to be slaughtered so does she that's why she nod lifting a smile.

The mini city lights twinkled like diamonds from the car window is once again a wonderful sight yet her inside remained heavy with a numbness that suffocated any spark of awe or happiness. Only pumping heart mechanically, a mere reflex before the slaughter.

𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

His tan slender palm, hold hers on her lap that she dared to glance at him finding his eyes already on her. He was about to speak when the driver announced.

"Sir, we have arrived". The master nod, merely going outside on his own before signaling her and her (E/C) eyes saw the familiar mansion like the previous time of her asking to apologize with her manager—not alone making her wonder if she not come, would her fate had been different ? Perhaps—for worse. She likes to delusion.

His palm finds her and almost drag her inside ignoring few numbers of servents bowing to them walked straight to the white stairs. Only noise of her racing heart and heels clicking echoed the eerie mansion until they arrived at his bedroom—she guess.

He released her hand, only to shed his professional armor, his fingers deftly untying his tie and unfastening his cuffs, the soft clinking of metal and rustle of silk. The cabaret steeled herself, bracing for the inevitable prepared to be used as a merchandise and discard at his whim.

As expected he closed in, his chin whispering against hers, their faces inches apart, the air thickened with anticipation. But just as their lips were about to meet, he detected the slightest hint of defiance—her hyoid bone tensed, a tiny rebellion, and her fist, clenched in a secret gesture of resistance. His onyx eyes, burning with intensity, snapped to hers, searching for surrender, but instead found a spark of refusal that turn him on so hard.

As their lips entwined, he was transported to a realm of pure bliss, his senses ignited by the sweet nectar of her mouth. He felt like a man blessed by the gods, granted the ultimate treasure to savor and devour. Every fiber of his being thrilled with ecstasy, his heart soaring on wings of delight, as he indulged in the tender flesh of her lips. The world around him melted away, leaving only the intoxicating taste of her, a divine elixir that left him drunk with pleasure. He was a king, and she was his conquest, his prize, his heavenly gift.

Unawarely he concerned her to the wall, cornered (Y/N) further than she was trapped. A nausea threat to pile over as she was clawed, touched, sucked into the unwanted torture. Tears swell her eyes, she wanted to bite his tongue and shove him away but against her want she continue to let the starved man indulged because the pig is layed, its flesh inspected, and now the blade poised about to slash its throat, mirroring the brutal violation of her own dignity.

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

Greedy hands tore at her outfit, exposing her flesh alike the pig's carcass, his onyx eyes devouring the sight of her breasts. His palm fondled one, hunger burning in his gaze, as her fingers instinctively wrapped around his hand, her nails digging deep enough to draw blood, a primal reaction to his violation.

Her breath hitched.

His lustful eyes snap to her.

Oh no. No. No. No. What did she did. She wasn't suppose to protest. She shouldn't be. A mistake—apologize—right she should apologize but why no voice is uttering. Suddenly his gaze burn her bare flesh, shame her.

And to her surprise, he retreat his hand. A displease paint his expression. Not to her intrude as she is thinking rather Ji-Hyuk realize this fire isn't his yet. She still doesn't belong to him.

Body, yes. Mind, yes but heart ? No. A not astonishing information wash cold over him. No, this is not good. No, not at all. He wants her everything. From her body to her fire to her heart—too. He wants her every bit to feast or else she never belonged to him at all.

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

That's why he shifted away. Marching to the bathroom leaving (Y/N) with a command. "You are staying the night".

That night, they lay in bed, a chasm of silence and space between them. He had freshened up, and she had too, separately, as if seeking solace in solitude. They faced away from each other, feigning sleep, but (Y/N) was wide awake, her senses heightened. She felt his gaze upon her, multiple times, as he quietly turned to watch her pretended slumber. His eyes lingered, a silent scrutiny, as if seeking answers in her stillness. The darkness was palpable, punctuated only by the soft rustle of sheets, as they both waited for the dawn, their minds racing with unspoken thoughts. The distance between them seemed to grow with each passing moment, a heavy, unbridgeable gap, as they lay there, lost in their own private worlds.

As the sun's golden rays peeked through the window, casting a warm glow on her side of the bed, she quietly sat up on the soft mattress she rarely gets to touch let alone sleep, her gaze drifting to his peaceful form. His sleeping face, relaxed and serene, is a sight to behold, his features softened without the stiff spectacles that usually framed his eyes. Yet, as she beheld his tranquil countenance, a morbid thought crept into her mind. "Would he look as peaceful, as serene, if he were to die with his eyes closed ?" The question lingered.

"This is the first time you are so eagerly sparing me a look," His sudden, raspy voice sliced through the silence, making her jump as she realized he was awake, his eyes now opened to meet her surprised one. "What ? Why so shock ? Can't a man wake up early ?" He chuckle, sitting up and she shifted away as much as possible. Ji-Hyuk notice it.

"Well, good morning ?" He greeted expected to be returned.

"Good morning". (Y/N) replied.

Then he silently rose from the bed and vanished into the bathroom, leaving (Y/N) alone in the quiet morning light.

A soft knock on the door preceded the entrance of a maid, who curtsied and presented (Y/N) with a neatly folded outfit. "It's the master's order," she whispered, her eyes cast down. (Y/N) nodded, accepting the clothes, and followed the maid to a separate bathroom she used yesterday to freshen up and she changed into the new outfit, her movements were quiet and obedient. After finishing, she made her way to the master bedroom, where he awaited.

The moment she stepped into the room, his face transformed, a warm smile spreading across his features, like a sunrise breaking through the clouds. It was a sight she noticed how frequently he is showning alike she recalled the gentle curve of his lips in the morning, and the soft smile he had worn the day before raising a question is he letting his guard down ? Good then.

"It really did suit you. Looks pretty." His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his voice was low and smooth.

"Thank you". Ji-Hyuk stood up, walked near her.

"What would you like to have in breakfast ?" She narrowed her eyes on his caring question.

"Anything". Meekly she answered.

"Even grass ?" He smirked at her clenched jaw action.

"What ? What was funny ?" She wanted to yell yet knew to keep her mask on of compose and said. "I am sorry. No. Rather I do not have much preference as you like sir, order it". Polite and low her voice sounded however to Ji-Hyuk, it sounded distant and cold.

"Well, what country are you from ?" (Y/N) is confuse at his sudden question session.

"(C/N)".

"Hmm..then order something from your home country". The dancer paused a second to realize why he asked about that and it twist something alike a knife inside her guts of how caring his thoughts might be, it's ironic to his actions and power use he done.

"Understood".

"Ji-Hyuk". He called his name. "Call me by my name".

"Understood—". His onyx eyes burn into her eyes as if waiting for his name to roll out of his name. "Ji-Hyuk". And the sound certainly lighten the mood of the VVVIP due to his wider smile like a boy got his desired candy.

Soon they entered the grand dining hall with they sat at opposite ends of a sprawling, polished table. The long, empty plates stretched out before them like a canvas of fine china, adorned with intricate silverware and crystal glasses. At the head of the table, the private butler from the previous day she seen stood poised, his eyes fixed on her with a silent expectation, his presence exuding an air of refined elegance and discretion.

The butler approached, his eyes inquiring, and asked, "May I take your order?"

She parted her lips to say when under his watch she said her favorite meal from her home country while he opted for the Grilled Salmon. As they waited for their food. (Y/N) felt his gaze without looking the entire until their meals arrived, they ate in awkward silence.

"So, why did you start working in this kind of place". He sliced into the salmon, his knife gliding smoothly as he watched the juice trickle across the white plate.

She paused a quick second to meet his gaze thinking whether she should be honest or lie and as if reading her mind he answered. "I will know about your background anyway". She smiled quitely at his sentence because then why ask her ? It feels like being interrogated by the police.

"To escape my abusive parents". Her eyes then slide to her own meal.

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

"Oh, physically or mentally ?" She furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked up, meeting his gaze and he simply smiled, seeming to revel in her reaction because he had intentionally asked the question to draw her in, to make her willingly meet his eyes. After all, he had never gone to such lengths for a lady like her— dining together, wasting time, and inquiring about her past, which he could easily access. But he knew that to truly captivate her heart, he needed to understand it first. And so, he watched her, his eyes sparkling with amusement and curiosity.

"Both". He nodded, putting a piece of salmon inside his mouth not averting his own gaze.

"Then why didn't you go to sex work ? It pays more than cabaret do".

"It's uncomforta—it's uncomfortable to be in pain. As a woman, I always have to be in pain at my first period, my first sex and probably for my first birth that I decided not to have the latter two for the sole sake of pain". His notions paused as slow, knowing smile spread across his lips sinking the realization of her touched and in this moment he knew he had chosen perfectly. "Unlike men". She added noting all his reactions.

"Sounds almost to me you want to become a man".

"No". She chuckle bitterly. She wants to crush men. Cutting her meal she missed the way his eyes glowed in astonishment.

𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

"S-She smiled ?" It's the first time she smiled willingly and it's beauty so captivating that his breath caught in his throat.

"Ji-Hyuk, could I ask which country are you from ?" Her question snap from his daze.

"You already have known it".

"Not from you". Ah ! This wit is what drives him crazy. The challenge is to his liking. Too liking.

"Korea but stayed at China my most childhood due to my father being Chinese and his business in here".

"Then your friends must have celebrated birthdays together". (Y/N) smiled in envy.

"Yes. Very happily". Ji-Hyuk answered. "When is your birthday ?"

"(M/D), yours ?" It created a smile at his lips knowing her interest awaken on him.

"Mine at August 31". She nod noting.

"I would like to celebrate my birthday with you". An order it is she understood from his tone.

"And what about your parents ?" She asked something quickly.

"Well, they are dead. Both died in their arms". Smiling Ji-Hyuk said. "What a love. I want that too". Glancing at her he tilts his head making her look down in uncomfortable.

After that he continued to engage her in conversation, asking about her interests and hobbies. However, she responded with brief, monosyllabic answers while also trying to slip some questions about him.

Finally the breakfast ended with her glancing at the lavish clock attached on the white wall. "Ji-Hyuk, then I should go ?"

"Where to ?" He straightforwardly asked.

"Home". Ji-Hyuk clench his jaw. "Can't this be your home ?" He was tempted to say but he didn't, too soon.

"Okay," (Y/N) breathed, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she turned to leave. When Ji-Hyuk next words stopped her in her tracks. "But—" Her heart sank, her lungs tightening once more as she turned back to face him.

"Give me your phone," he said, his hand outstretched, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

Finding no excuse to refuse with a sense of detachment, her hand reached into her bag and handed over her phone. The VVVIP's fingers closed around it like a vice, his thumbs flying across the screen with a speed and accuracy that made her skin crawl and when he handed it back, (Y/N) felt a chill shiver her spine. Her GPS and location services were now enabled, her every move trackable.

Holding her phone tightly with a bright, empty smile, she waved goodbye, feeling like a puppet on strings as his personal driver escorted her to the car, and she was driven away from the mansion towards her own home.

The driver's silent gaze met hers in the rearview mirror as he pulled up to her apartment building, the unassuming structure a stark contrast to the opulent villa she'd just left. (Y/N) felt a mix of relief and anxiety as she gathered her belongings and stepped out onto the familiar sidewalk.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

With a nod, the driver waited until she disappeared into the building before pulling away, leaving (Y/N) to climb the stairs to her apartment with a sense of trepidation.

As soon as she locked the door behind her, she pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number. Somchai, the bar manager.

☾ ───────────

𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏' 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

Three hours of silence. Three hours of utter disregard the woman he waste so much time isn't caring to pick his call nor seeing his messages making Ji-Hyuk anger seethed, simmering just below the surface as he glared at his phone, willing her to respond. But she didn't. She was ignoring him, dismissing his attempts to contact like he was nothing. The thought sent a venomous rage coursing through his veins. Who did she think she was, anyway ? Didn't she know he wouldn't be ignored ? He should have kept her locked away, hidden from the world, where she couldn't humiliate him like this. Now, he have no choice but to confront her by going to her home, hopefully she isn't with a man being a whore. Just the mere thoughts made his skin crawl, his mind racing with visions of her with another man. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let that happen.

The business man almost burst out of the car if his driver late to scramble open the door one second and Ju-Hyuk is at this point consumed in rage and jealousy. He reached floor and stood at her door, his hand slamming into the bell three times, the sound echoing through the hallway.

"Bitch ! If there is a man. I will fucking kill him". He swore and the no answer only fueled his anger, he began pounding on the door, his fists shaking with fury. "Open up!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. "I know you're in there! You can't hide from me!"

And before he thought to break the weak wooden door, it swing open by (Y/N) herself who's surprise cross her expression finding his disheveled appearance, for the moment his heart skip a beat as his gaze lock into her beautiful (E/C) eyes and his anger falter until a glimpse of an unfamilar man behind her sat on the sofa, seems to be waiting for her.

𝒔𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 '𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔

"Bitch, fucking bitch". He mutter under his breath, staring at the man and snap ! As if the thread of holding his inner demon exploded and all his vision could see was red and his mind the urgue to kill the man alive.

He pushed (Y/N) aside, his hands shoving her away like a mere obstacle. She stumbled, her eyes wide in alarmed seeing him march into the room.

"What is he doing ?" (Y/N)'s confusion dissipated in an instant when the VVVIP's palm curled into a fist, poised to strike her co-worker. Her eyes widened in horror with her piercing screams earning Somchai's attention who now noticed his menacing stance is already too late. Ji-Hyuk fist flew, connecting with a sickening crunch that sent Somchai stumbling backward. The sound of the impact was like a crack of thunder, making (Y/N)'s heart skip a beat on contrast to his satisfaction.

"Stop it ! What are you doing ?" She scream and jumped before him to defense the only man who ever treated her like a human angering him more.

"Move". She shake her head.

"Please tell me why are you doing this ?"

"Because you are fucking having an affair". Flames coating his voice as he narrowed his eyes to her pluzzed gaze.

"What lead you to believe that ?"

"Well, this alone of him being in your room proves that and the reason of not answering my messages and phone calls". She openly for the first time scoff.

"First of all I had no idea of your messages and phone call because it was charging in another room and". She paused, looking at her side. "There are people with me". The table turns and Ji-Hyuk turn to the side with his eyes wide finding two women and another older man standing in horror holding few papers related to work. "They are all managers like me in Muse and Seduction".

His eyes dropped, falling to the floor as the weight of his mistake crushed him. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his breath knocked out of him. His hands, still clenched into fists, now felt limp and useless, painted with the innocent manager's blood. "Fuck !"

The room fell silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the managers, who were still trying to process the scene that had just unfolded and Ji-Hyuk's mind is a jumble of emotions, his thoughts racing with the realization of what he had done. All his hard work, all the progress he had made in building trust with (Y/N), had been undone in an instant, all his hard work in drain and now start from square one again. What a fucking idiot. Never did he knew one day his emotions overshoadow his logic that he so thinks is pathetic at the same time a newfound realization set in. He can't anymore bear the loss of this woman. How beautiful yet tragic.

"It was my fault. I-I will pay the bills of his medica—".

"Sir, could you please step a bit ?"

"S-Sir ? Step a bit ? What do you mean ?" For the first time in front of (Y/N), he stutter his words, bewildered by the fact she is choosing a random man over him ? Why is she telling him to leave ? "You want me gone ?" His voice accusing and onyx eyes betrayed feeling the regret of letting the man alive.

"No, sir I meant to—".

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒕

"What ?" Aggression evade his face and (Y/N) flinch in pain when Ji-Hyuk's grip on her forearm, his fingers digging deep into her skin "Fucking bitch, what ? Cat caught your tongue".

"Ji-Hyuk, I am simple asking you to move so I can grab my phone to call—". He scoff loud to cut her polite request.

"Now you are calling me by my name ? What a clever little mouse you are ?" He twist her arm a little, gleaming to find a hint of change expression.

"Aren't you a fucking whore ?" He twist some more and she clench her jaw brushing off the memories that comes with the pain, bitter memories of the past men repeating the action.

"Aww, is my whore daughter crying ?"

"What bitch ? Spread your leg, why can't you open your legs like a bitch in heat".

"What a little woman we have here ? Listen, woman are submissive, not wild cards".

"Fuck you woman ! You are all slut, what happens if I fuck one of you".

"So, (Y/N) fucking (L/N) talk, do you want to me to leave ?" Bottled anger and resentment simmered, a potent brew of fury and fear the more he speaks. The echoes of past men's condescending voices swirled around her, a cacophony of control and possession that threatened to consume her.

"Talk ! Can't you fucking talk ?" Each word, each phrase, was a drop of water, slowly drowning her, suffocating her.

"(Y/N), answer me !" Her lungs burning, her heart racing, as the weight of their collective entitlement crushed her. And then, something inside her snapped.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP". She exploded and he was silenced. "Yes I do indeed want you to be gone. So please for god's sake go away with your sad excuse of a man". She straight glare at him making him falter a little and without a word he left.

For few seconds she stood silently before Somchai's gently pat on her back bring her to reality.

"I am sorry for the scene". She asked forgiveness to her co-workers who shake their head, brushing off her apologize. "Also I am sorry, Somchai". She said to the man who watched and seen the entire thing and couldn't help feel pride swell his chest.

"Don't be". Shortly making eye-contact he smiled silently telling her it's not her place to apologize.

Gingerly, (Y/N) asked, "Should I call an ambulance or take you to the hospital ?"

His response was nonchalant "No need, it's not my first time." A hint of a reckless past lingered in his words, leaving (Y/N) wondering what kind of life he had led to become a bar manager in this Adult Entertainment Complex along the lines his teenage years, he claimed, were a blur of wild abandon and devoid of serious goals or direction.

The meeting had reached an impasse, with Somchai and the others swiftly exiting, leaving (Y/N) alone to ponder the consequences of her action, sitting on the sofa. She massaged her forehead, trying to ward off the looming headache and speak of the devil, her phone buzzed, a message from Ji-Hyuk, popping up on the screen.

"Make sure to come to my birthday tomorrow". (Y/N) was taken aback by Ji-Hyuk's calmness in the message as she brace herself for anger, resentment, or even threats only to get this ? Her initial unease grew more, scared of unpredictability. When another notification pop. "Or else you have to pay for today". A clear threat despite the indirect words still she felt a twisted sense of relief after all at least she knew he was indeed still mad and have a temper because another one of the lessons she had learned on this job is the unreadable ones were always the worst. It's never known when they would explode or what they were brewing inside the calm facade so, with Ji-Hyuk's overt threat, she could prepare herself, unlike the unpredictable ones who kept her on edge.

"What a headache". She hold her head on her hand and slumped on the sofa not having the strength to move.

Beautiful the color blue is and Y/N looked absolutely stunning in the silk light blue dress sent by Ji-Hyuk this morning. The delicate fabric hugged her body perfectly, and the soft hue complemented her skin tone exquisitely with her hair cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall, with loose strands dancing in the gentle breeze as she stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the taxi to arrive she booked few seconds ago.

"What is going to happen ?" Worried cast upon her face imagining his treatment for talking back at him yesterday. She hated it. Hated being scared of little things, little mistakes makes her reminiscent back to the days of her parents where her mother unnerving, unforgiving eyes follow her around along her father's hating her guts for being merely a female. Her (E/C) eyes stare at the gift she held, a expensive watch—not with much thought she brought but it hurt her to spend her hard worked penny on to someone she doesn't care plus with her finance—the gift is too much for her. Hopefully he doesn't break it into pieces.

She was lost in her thoughts when a sleek, lavish car pulled up beside her, its black windows gleaming in the sunlight caught her attention. "It's his". Shs understood and confirmed more when the window rolled down, revealing the familiar face of the driver, who greeted her with a courteous smile. "Come inside, ma'am."

Wordless she obeyed feeling to step into a world of wealth and power, the scent, the softness, the space all makes the car so much more lavish to sit on, a mix of surprise and curiousity brew inside her soaking on the money she never dreamed to be inside and the door closed behind her with a gentle thud, snapping her out of the admiration.

Soon they pulled up to the grand estate, the driver opened the door, and she stepped out, her smile faltering for a moment as she gazed up at the imposing structure. The familiar mansion loomed before her, its beauty almost painful in its intensity. The sunlight danced across its facade, casting a warm glow that made it shine like a golden palace of the gods.

As she entered, her eyes observed in awe at the opulent interior. Crystal chandeliers refracted rainbow hues, and intricate frescoes adorned the ceilings. The air was alive with the sweet scent of exotic flowers, and the soft hum of classical music whispered through the halls. The decoration certainly more heavenly than before.

And at the heart of this splendor stood her master, his eyes locked onto hers, and she felt the familiar tug of the invisible leash on her neak holding on his hand.

𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

His hand outstretch and she smile like a pretty doll letting him hold it like a prince he is and they walked together towards the private ballroom where faint party noise could be heard and her (E/C)'s glance at him. "Happy birthday...". She tailed off. "Ji-Hyuk". Finally she added making him smile and caress.

"Thank you". He said caressing her hand by his thump. "You look beautiful in the dress I choose".

"Here's your gift". (Y/N) extended her hand, offering the gift bag. "It's not much, but I hope you like it." Ji-Hyuk's eyebrows shot up in amusement as he accepted the bag, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and he opened the packet, revealing a sleek watch with a black leather strap— a luxurious and expensive timepiece indeed, yet to Ji-Hyuk, it was surprisingly plain and almost...tacky.

"This ?" His gaze narrowed, his expression hidden the disdain staring at the color black seemed dull and unrefined to his eyes, a far cry from the sophisticated and elegant accessories he was accustomed to making him wonder about (Y/N)'s taste. Had she really thought this was something he would appreciate? Shouldn't she have at least asked him before bringing something so...pedestrian into his home?

The air was thick with unspoken questions as Ji-Hyuk's eyes met (Y/N)'s, his expression a mask of polite gratitude. "Thank you," though his voice neutral, still his eyes betraying a hint of disapproval. And (Y/N) notice it.

"Your welcome". She look away clenching her fist.

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

"By the way you are staying the entire night with me". He commanded leaving no room for argument not like she has a tongue to argue. Once was a mistakes. Twice wouldn't be so she bit her tongue.

Then they stepped into the resplendent golden ballroom, the air was alive with the gentle clinking of champagne glasses and the soft hum of conversation. The room was abuzz with people from all walks of life, each with their own agenda, yet united in their anticipation. They mingled and chatted, forming tentative bonds, their eyes gleaming with a shared desire— to curry favor with the elusive Ji-Hyuk.

However beneath the polished smiles and courteous laughter, a different story unfolded. Each guest harbored a secret hope, a dream they dared not speak aloud. They were all waiting for the host, the enigmatic Ji-Hyuk, rumored to possess the power to make their deepest desires come true and once they spot him, a collective hush fell over the room. Ji-Hyuk's arrival was met with a subtle yet palpable shift in the atmosphere. The masks of civility slipped, revealing glimpses of avarice and longing. Eyes gleamed with an unspoken hunger, as if the very presence of Ji-Hyuk might unlock the doors to their wildest ambitions.

"Terrifying". She mutter under her breath, clearly feeling eyes burn her skin along his as the spotlight is on both of them together.

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

As Ji-Hyuk's lips grazed her cheek, a shiver ran down her spine. His gentle whisper, "Let's go, sweetheart". sent a mix of emotions swirling within her. Their steps harmonized, drawing them closer to the crowd, and with each stride, her anxiety intensified. The air thickened, making her feel like she was being slowly suffocated, as if the walls of her lungs were closing in.

The crowd loomed before her, a sea of faces blurring together like a den of hyenas waiting to pounce. Ji-Hyuk's reassuring squeeze on her hand only added to the pressure, a reminder that even the gentlest touch from the most powerful predator could be overwhelming. The thought sent a tremor through her veins, as she felt like a vulnerable prey being led into the heart of danger.

"Welcome, Mr. Wang".

"Oh my friend, long time no see. Happy birthday".

"Happy birthday. Just didn't saw you for few years and you look more younger than before".

"Happy birthday. Mr. Wang, here meet my wife".

"Mr. Wang nice to meet you".

"Mr. Wang, you seem such a busybody ?"

"Mr. Wang, thanks to you the new wine business is going smoothly".

All their voices come mush to her yet when she glance he looks as unaffected rather he looks composed, calm and smiling and answering to each one of them.

"Oh ! Mr. Wang, who is this beautiful lady in your arms ?" This earned her attention holding her breath to hear. A escort ? A girlfriend ? A nobody ? Hopefully he choose one of these.

But her heart sank.

"My soon to be wife". Her eyes wide and breath hitched. Chest racing and almost as if feeling her eyes he slide to meet hers.

What ? Wife ? Wasn't the deal to be his girlfriend ? Why ? What changed ?

As if reading her mind he part his lips speaking wicked words. "And I am proposing to her right now. In front of her".

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

Her body froze, shock and fear rendering her immobile. She couldn't look away, couldn't speak, could only watch in horror the scenario unfolded. A waiter approached, bearing a dark blue box, which Ji-Hyuk opened with flourish as if it's hold a treasure in it, revealing a stunning ruby ring. Without a word, he slid the ring onto her finger, his eyes glinting with triumph.

The room erupted into applause and cheers, the noise almost deafening her. Ji-Hyuk's smirk grew, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he mouthed the words, "You are mine now, forever." Pleasuring from her tears sliding from her eyes the guests that the guests are oblivious to her distress, mistook her tears for joy, or simply chose to ignore them.

Tormented.

Hatred.

Anger.

Is all she felt. Those negative feelings spread thoughtout her body like a poison bit by the snake in front of her a man, who is smiling so wide, so happy she wish to crush it and watch him suffer, cry, beg. Anything but happiness.

"Excuse me. I need to use the restroom". Without hearing his reply she march toward to the escape, gripping her grown and dug her fingers on the innocent fabric she wish to tore it right there and then. While the business man observed her every single little moments and drowning in her torment after all it's her punishment. Her punishment for humiliating and shaming him yesterday in front of those pest. As much as he urged to rip her head off he also realize she was a wild cat without a leash so as a good master he brought a leash on his name and put the ring of forever to always remind the woman she belongs to him in eyes of law and all and she should be submissive. Ah, the pleasure of breaking her fire.

𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

With arrogance drunk his mind, he mindlessly exchange strings of words to the pathetic men he deems until he frown glancing at his watch to still not find (Y/N) at his side. "Where is she ?" Certainly not ran away because it's stupid and such action from her is honestly disappointing so hopefully she won't sad him. Right ? Right. Because excusing himself he went to their shared bedroom and about to go outside not finding her when his ears perk at the shower water and immediately a smile curve.

His eyes burned with anticipation, his mind consumed by the promise of forbidden pleasure. He shed his tie, his movements deliberate as he walked to find the door unexpectedly open. Sweet, such a two-faced woman. It's really a sign of inviting him isn't it ? And indeed it was beholding a sight that made his heart race because there she stood beneath the shower's gentle caress, her clothes plastered to her body, accentuating every skin, every contour. The water had transformed her outfit into a translucent second skin, making her irresistible. Ji-Hyuk's onyx eyes devoured the sight, his gaze lingering on the way the fabric clung to her, highlighting the softness of her skin that he noticed the subtle stiffening of her shoulders, a whisper of awareness that she was no longer alone. A sly, sensual smile spread across his face as he stepped closer, his movements silent as a predator's. With a gentle, yet possessive touch, he wrapped his hands around her waist, his fingers brushing against her skin.

The water continued to cascade down, creating a sultry melody that accompanied his whispered words "Such a siren you are". His breath caressed her ear, his lips grazing her skin, as he pulled her closer, his body aligning with hers, the heat between them palpable.

Finally she turned, her movements unfolded like a tantalizing dance, each moment a promise of surrender. Her expression remained serene, yet her half-lidded eyes alike to velvet curtains covering her beautiful (E/C) eyes with water continued its gentle caress, dripping down her face, tracing paths of desire and her pink lips, inviting and plump, seemed to whisper a silent invitation, begging to be kissed, to be claimed.

Sending a painful thorb in his pants and without second thought forgetting the party, the people awaiting and everything he descended, anticipating a tender kiss when her grip on his shoulder electrified his body with a sudden, searing pain. She slammed him against the wall, his head cracking against the hard surface, sending a jolt of shock and taken a back through his veins escaping a low groan from his lips yet she showed no mercy, her fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back with a fierce cry. His vision blurred, the room spinning around him, as she smashed his head into the wall once more crashing his vision to be lost only seeing glimse of her hateful eyes.

☾ ───────────

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒘𝒆'𝐥𝐥 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘

As Ji-Hyuk's eyes fluttered open, a throbbing, sharp pain hit him like a sledgehammer, forcing his lids shut again. The harsh glare of the bathroom light bulb pierced through his brain, making him question his surroundings. Why was he in the bathroom ?

Gingerly, he sat up, and the pain struck again, making his head spin. Memories began to resurface, fragmented and hazy, like a dream. He recalled inviting (Y/N) to his birthday party, proposing to her in front of everyone...and then following her when she stormed off.

The memories came flooding back, and with them, the anger and humiliation widen his eyes. She had pushed him, violently, against the wall. The audacity! How troublesome women could be. She thought she could escape him? Ha! He would track her down, and when he did, he would be polite, coaxing her back with a gentle touch...or else she might flee again.

Ji-Hyuk stood up, shrugging off the stiffness in his shoulders and back. He dusted his already immaculate clothes, a habit born of precision and control. He walked outside to the bedroom, expecting to find her gone, "as I thought". A wry smile twisted his lips as he confirmed his suspicion.

Rolling his eyes, he headed downstairs to summon his butler, intending to order a thorough search of the mansion. After all, no one thought to look for a hiding person in their own home, do they? But before he could issue the command, the servant approached him with a knowing look.

"Master, I think I should inform you...she left last night," the female servant said, her voice neutral. "She took her luggage and instructed us not to disturb you."

Ji-Hyuk's laughter echoed through the hallway, a low, menacing sound. "Ah, how delightful. She thinks she can outsmart me ?" His eyes gleamed with amusement, impressed by her audacity.

𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐, 𝒘𝒆'𝐥𝐥 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘

Ji-Hyuk's expression turned glacial, his voice dripping with calm anger. "Find her right now. I want her in front of me within 24 hours." His demeanor had shifted from amused to menacing, leaving no room for failure.

𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘)

His butler, usually unflappable, appeared before him with a panicked expression. "S-sir, I-I have something to report..." he stuttered, parting his lips to deliver the unthinkable words: "She's gone forever, sir."

Ji-Hyuk's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with questions. What? How? What did he mean by gone forever" ? He demand an explanation when the door burst open, and a group of police officers entered, their presence a jarring surprise.

The sudden invasion of his private space, combined with the butler's ominous words, made Ji-Hyuk's head spin. He felt a growing annoyance, his control slipping. "What is the meaning of this ?" he demanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃 (𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘)

"Mr. Wang, you are under arrest for tax evasion, embezzling money from your shareholders and series of crime that are still under investigation". He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his mind reeling with the implications.

"What ?"

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 (𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐)

The butler's whisper jumbled words added to the chaos "All of the bank contracts, shareholder agreements and those important evidence are missing...and I've got a message from the bank that all of our money is gone, finished." Ji-Hyuk's gaze snapped to the butler, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and shock. "Someone took today early morning verifying it's you, sir".

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ?

The butler's voice cut through the chaos, "And I believe it's—" but Ji-Hyuk finished the sentence himself, his voice dripping with venom, "(Y/N)'s work, right ?" The setvant's nod was like a confirmation of the most unpredictable he never imagined.

"And the shareholders are very anger along other companies who's contracts are missing".

𝒐𝒉 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏', 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏', 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝐫𝐞 𝒔𝒐 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆

Ji-Hyuk's laughter echoed through the room, a cold, mirthless sound. "Ha! She was playing the bigger game, huh? I underestimated her...this time." He felt a wave of fury wash over him, realizing he was not only facing arrest but also financial ruin, all because of the woman.

Ji-Hyuk's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a manic intensity as he muttered, "Oh, such a fierce woman cost me my ruin." The police officer's words droned on, a familiar litany of rights and warnings, but Ji-Hyuk's mind was elsewhere. How classic, he deem men pathetic who lost control by their lower part and here he is the same.

"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you and you have the right to an attorney..." The irony wasn't lost on him —he couldn't afford food let alone a lawyer now. The thought sent a fresh wave of complex emotions coursing through his veins.

His mind was else where though while the police's the cold metal of the handcuffs and the police officer's firm grip on his arm. Still Ji-Hyuk's smile never wavered, even as he was led away in disgrace, wondering where (Y/N), who he was ruined by is.

The sky above seemed to stretch out in endless splendor. The white clouds, fluffy and soft like cotton candy, gathered around the plane, casting a serene shadow over the landscape below. The sprawling cities, once bustling and overwhelming, now appeared tiny and insignificant, a testament to the power of perspective.

She couldn't help but gasp in wonder, her eyes fixed on the breathtaking view. She had never been on a plane before, let alone in first class, and the experience was almost surreal. The gentle hum of the engines, the soft glow of the cabin lights, and the attentive service of the flight attendants all combined to create an atmosphere of luxury and tranquility.

Somchai's voice cut through the hum of the plane's engines, his words dripping with genuine interest. "So, how are you liking it?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers, as if she was the only view worth beholding.

(Y/N) met his gaze, a laughter-filled smile spreading across her face. "Amazing," she replied, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "I've often seen how it looks from phone and TV, but never in real life...due to financial problems." She shared her truth without hesitation, her words unfiltered and raw.

Somchai's expression remained soft, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, leaning on the seat besides her. "Well, now you won't have to," he said, his voice low and reassuring. The words hung in the air, a reminder of their shared secret— the plan to steal Ji-Hyuk's money, the plan that had brought them together.

Clenching her jaw, her heavy feet step towards the destiny she very much fears at the same time loathes. That's when a hand hold her wrist spinning her around and her eyes wide seeing the man.

"Somchai ?" The least person she expected to see stood in front of her.

"Boss, can I...for few seconds talk to her ?" He pleaded the general manager who looked skeptical however she didn't wanted because the only bit of dignity of her should be remain at her work place.

"No, Somchai. Please let me go". She tug her hand for him to lose yet not go.

"I am sorry, (Y/N) for holding you wrist against your will. But please, please talk to me". The way his eyes begging and brows frows together she nod getting the boss's permission too "Thank you. Thank you". Then only he let go before apologizing to hold her wrist.

After they went to another room.

She asked. "What is it ?"

"You are not really going to apologize right ? After all working in this industry I know this much first it's not your fault". Her eyes flick clenching her heart at the reality how by little humanity from a man seem like a blessing when it's nothing. "And second your life will forever be trapped once you she step foot into his mansion because he wants you".

"I know". Without emotions she lowered her gaze.

"And you are okay risking it all ?"

"Woman never have choice". Bitterly she said and he realize.

"Then how about create a choice ?" Her eyes confuse.

"What do you mean by that ?"

"The entire reason you are force to do this becsuse you lack financially and even if you did not lack it the man is powerful enough to strip you down until you are nothing so why not steal the reasons of your imprisonment ?"

"What ? How ?" She breathed looking at him as if he had horns in his head. However he smirked telling his plan of her pretending to be with him when in reality she is going to find Ji-Hyuk's all documents and papers of bank to steal his money and fly somewhere he can't find her in case he wants revenge or simply her.

"It's risky". (Y/N) shake her head. "And crazy". She added.

"Well it's better than doing nothing also I want to see you smile and free like you deserve". He smiles. "Like all women deserve.

As soon as she locked the door behind her, she pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number. Somchai, the bar manager.

"Come to my place immediately ! I have gps tracker on my phone and I am sure people will tail me if I go out so come to my place". After that he went to her apartment where she showed him all the detail bank records she took when he was asleep.

"But there is something else too". (Y/N)'s words earned his attention and his eyes wide seeing even the shareholders and business companies contracts and corruption. "And I think we should leak the corruption and take the shareholders and other companies's money to frame him of stealing money also leaking their private information". Making them plan not only running away but also ruining him for once and all before running away that's why at the proposing day she knocked him out to escape.

"Thank you, Somchai, without you I do not what I could have done".

"It's alright". He simply shrug.

"Well, I am going to my home country where my father earlier transferred from to thailand but—". She side eyed him. "Why are you coming with me ?" And he put a hand on his chest, acting as if he is in pain.

"Ouch ! You wound me. I thought you would be happy".

"I am but..." She tailed off laughing. "You seem to be a romeo helping his Juliet after all. O my gosh ! What am I saying, I do not like that story at all". A disgust expression cast her face.

"Ah ! Why not ? It's such a tragic love story". The bar manager argued.

"Right, love story more like a impulsive infatuation". She roll her eyes.

Somchai chuckled humbly "Also, indeed, I am not a Romeo." He confessed with a sheepish grin, acknowledging his unromantic past. After graduation, Somchai was a free spirit, splurging money with his friends, and living life on his own terms. His days blurred together in a haze of adventure and recklessness until one day he saw a girl, a beautiful girl he swear took his breath and her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and her profession, rather than shocking him, filled him with admiration for her fearlessness and dedication. Unlike his past self, who had been coasting through life on his father's wealth, (Y/N) worked tirelessly, unapologetic inspired him to stop relying on his family's influence, left bad influence and joined the very same complex to protect his secret crush blossomed into love from alongside even if she isn't his, Somchai is proud of her independence as long as he can stay beside her.

"Good because I can't see you becoming one".

"Really ?" Amused he laughed.

"Really". She sweetly said. "Somchai". At her smile his heart swelled with joy, knowing that he was the cause of her happiness making him bliss to simply be near her, to bask in the warmth of her presence, and to watch her shine.

"You really know how to make a person—".

"What ?" (Y/N) cut him off excited.

Laughing he finished "Enslave".

FIN

⌜ This story is inspired and I thought to turn the lines of song ❛ make you mine by public ❜ into my dark thriller. It was fun and hopefully you like it ⌟

[thirstandfurious]

Straightwashing The Picture of Dorian Gray?

Two days ago, the Internet discovered a prospective Netflix adaption, that of The Picture of Dorian Gray into a tv show The Grays. (Deadline)

As the title entails, Katie Rose Rogers (writer) has made the choice to give the protagonist of Wilde’s novel a brother. She allegedly decided not to add a new Gray but to turn a pre-existing character into a relative of the oh-so-famous Dorian Gray: Basil Hallward.

The painter of the cursed portrait that contains and manifests all of Dorian’s flaws and villainy, the adoring artist infatuated with his muse and his beauty, one of the characters often analysed in queer studies of the novel, will be turned into Dorian’s brother.

Narrative license is a common occurence in the art of adaptation, but the writer’s choice raises some issues on the Internet considering the original novel, its impact on its author’s life, as well as its importance in the field of research and its role in representing queerness in history.

The Picture of Dorian Gray is an 1891 work of literature written by Oscar Wilde. The novel, itself derived from an early novella-length work, tackles the moral descent of Dorian Gray as it never takes shape on his forever-young angelic face (and thus going against the belief of physiognomic degeneration of its time) but instead taints a portrait made of him by a friend—the aforementioned Basil.

Connoisseurs and those less interested in the works of Oscar Wilde tend to know at least two things about the author:

one, he wrote Dorian Gray;

two, he was a homosexual.

It is no secret that his novel is submerged by the homoerotic feelings the characters harbour towards one another. While the characters do not overtly engage in romance—a feat which would have led to a bigger scandal than it already was—they do present characteristics that are outwardly associated with queerness. Be it Lord Henry and Dorian Gray taking on a mentor/mentee approach close to Greek pederasty (educational), or Basil and Dorian adopting the artist and muse situation-ship often reserved to male artists and their female objects of inspiration and idolatry, the male/male relationships in the book deviate from normative Victorian masculine and homophile behaviours and extend into unspoken homosexual territories.

In the case of Basil, transforming him into Dorian’s brother means erasing the scandalous and ambiguous relationship between the characters that is often read as being one of the many reasons behind the decay of the portrait, by denoting the repression of nonconforming identities. Basil is written as admiring the beauty of Dorian: he considers him his own personal muse, the driving force behind his art, one that cannot be beaten and that pushes him to be a greater artist. He is as enamoured with Dorian as the Pre-Raphaelites were with women.

In the uncensored version of Dorian Gray, made publicly available in 2011, Basil says quite explicitly to Dorian Gray:

"It is quite true I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man should ever give to a friend. Somehow I have never loved a woman.” (The Guardian)

In the version commonly read by the general public, Basil also tells Lord Henry (about Dorian Gray):

“I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said.” (Chapter 1)

This simple sentence reveals an unusual relationship constituted of deviant expressions of sentiments between Victorian men.

In the Basil/Dorian relationship, the latter is feminised through his position as Basil’s muse, he becomes an object of desire and obsession, then an enactor of violence through his ever-lasting youth and beauty, making him a relative of the femme fatale type.

Erasing the grey area between the two characters diminishes the complexity of Wilde’s work as a public critique of Victorian gender roles and morality, especially in light of his own trial and prison sentence for which the homoerotic subtext has been used as proof. This raises the issue of straightwashing and how easy it is to erase queerness in the entertainment industry to accommodate to an heteronormative vision.

——————

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/apr/27/dorian-gray-oscar-wilde-uncensored

https://deadline.com/2024/08/dorian-gray-series-netflix-katie-rose-rogers-rina-mimoun-greg-berlanti-1236045373/

https://www.history.com/topics/gay-rights/oscar-wilde-trial

[transspeciesculture]

We keep mentioning how transspecies as a term has existed long before the radqueer & transID communities formed, and started claiming it as part of those communities despite it's actual usage within nonhuman/fictional/unusual human species identifying spaces and objections from said spaces.

As a sort of quick thing to back this up, here are some examples before the year of 2020 (estimated beginnings of the radqueer/transID community)!

All of this excludes troll posting/mockery, and is focused on NH/FICT community's discussions. Some additional content warnings are provided for some of the e-mails, however.

This is not extensive, feel free to show us any other finds (excluding alt.horror.werewolves e-mails, we've already scoured trough everything. There is actually more mentions via that, but all from the same person).

Mentions of term:

01 - "Gender-bender" e-mail, 1999. Included in this section due to the unclearness of if the original author of the e-mail identifies as otherkin or transspecies personally.

[Link] [Link 2] [Archive] [Archive 2]

02 - "On cosmic surgery and personal identity" e-mail, 2005

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

03 - "Da Jakkal's work revisited" e-mail, 1999. Warning: has some outdated terminology/beliefs.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

04 - "Re: Introduction" e-mail, 2002

[Link] [Archive]

05 - "Re: Shifters: in need of Help." e-mail, 1999. Warning: thread has mentions of an un-nameable native American creature.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

06 - "Re: Musing of the Week" e-mail, 1999

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

06 - "Re: define were" e-mail, 1997. Warning: thread has mentions of an un-nameable native American creature. (This is the second time we've have to issue this CW. Sucks.)

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

07 - "Re: Fun with Faith" e-mail, 1997. Same warning as above, unfourtunately.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

08 - "Re: Questions on Were's/Shifting/etc" e-mail 1997. Same warning, a lot of early instances of the word being used seem to all be from this one being, sorry.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

09 - "Re: Slithering into AHWW" e-mail, 1997

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

10 - "Re: Odd Dreams" e-mail, 1998

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

11 - "Shifters: WereBreeds" e-mail, 1999. Warning: has some outdated terminology.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

12 - "On the appropriation of trans narratives by therianthropes" article, 2013. Contrary to the title, it is supportive. It does mention the native creature again due to excerpting an AHWW member's ramblings, so thread with caution.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

13 - "An Introduction to Animality" article, 2009

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

Usage of term for clear self identification (flags and symbols are included):

01 - "Re: A question to everyone out there" e-mail, 1997. Warning once again for mentions of an un-nameable native American creature, and questionable identity that may or may not be considered cultural appropriation (we have no place to say as we are not native). Still, it is an clear account of identification with the label and experiences that'd come to be associated with it.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

02 - "Chewing and biting (and intro)" e-mail, 1999. The poster at the time of posting already specifies that they do not identify with the label anymore, but used to.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

03 - "Transspecies Pride stamp" flag/pride graphic, 2017.

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

04 - "Transspecies Flag" flag, 2018

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

05 - "Why I call myself Transspecies" personal article, 2018

[Link] [Archive] [Archive 2]

06 - "Gender: Furry II (Now With More Scales)

[Archive]

07 - "Real Dragons: Transspeciesism" article, 2001

[Archive]

[amyriadofleaves]

outside it starts to pour — neuvillette | chapter nine

synopsis: in the limelight of fontaine, the prying eyes of its people never truly tears their gaze off the iudex and you, the présidence du conseil d'état, which makes for baseless rumours to fester and echo throughout the theatrics of opera. you and neuvillette are challenged by the reputations the both of you are expected to uphold, and the weighty decision to navigate these intricacies rests upon the discerning judgement of fontaine's archon.

{ prev. } ; { nav } ; { next }

ao3 : wattpad  ˚　.˚　　

⌗ pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader ⌗ feat : neuvillette, reader, clorinde ⌗ warnings : n/a ⌗ word count: 4.5k

It would not be an overstatement to remark upon the folly of those who regard you with such narrow-minded scrutiny. Despite your accomplishments, diligence, and endurance through it all, the people have diminished you from a capable and esteemed Head of Civil Affairs to nothing more than the Chief Justice's attendant wife.

However, you find it not in your duty to rebuke those claims, or rather, think not to bother addressing them outright. The attitude you bring to your office and those beneath you isn’t anything out of the ordinary, per se, but one with a discerning eye can notice the unusual edge and snappiness to your character. 

And the one with the said discerning eye happens to be your husband. 

Multiple questions from him arose over the course of a week before his schedule took him up in its clutches again, and obviously you were one to deny such accusatory things. Oh, how glad you were when you found his office vacant most of the time. No one to pester you, and no one to pester the pesterer. 

But obviously such luxuries come with some demon to tip out the work-life balance. The invite to a ball as a plus one has you lurching for air, and another report on the impending prophecy gnaws at you like a teething hyena.

Today just so happens to be another banal day of doom and gloom. Ruthless court hearings meant Fontaine would see rainfall, and for this particular week it meant every consecutive day — which also meant a certain Champion Duelist is slipping through every nook and cranny for a playdate. 

“If it isn’t my favourite new bride,” she muses, leaning against the doorframe. You notice the difference in the way she quips the last few words, and you subconsciously associate the likeness of tone to that of the Duke; weird — you never considered their closeness up until this point.

You sip on your cup of chamomile tea. “So what you’re saying is that there was a point where I was not your favourite bride.”

“Maybe it’s because you weren’t married, idiot,” she starts, closing the door behind her and making herself home to your small, albeit homely office. “One day you’re all over never finding a husband, and the next day I see an invite on my doorstep that you’re getting married to the one man you hate!”

You wish to strain the lie for a little longer, test how much more you can baffle her straight through your teeth. “Well, Clorinde, fate has many a surprise for those who least expect it. Take the newlyweds that run the new bakery down the street — rumour has it that they hated each other before making out in the store room; oh, the poor manager… So, it really is a trap anyone can just about fall in.”

Her lips twitch as if a lightbulb had switched on near her temple, a subtle trip, but telling of the inevitable. You show indifference. “A trap, you say? So who exactly arranged it? Pray tell, was it Monsieur Neuvillette, Lady Furina, or god forbid, you yourself?”

“...What?’

She chuckles, taking a seat across from you.  “If there’s one person you’re not going to fool, it’s me. You forget I was on the other end of your endless ramblings about him — so why have you exactly gotten married to the very man you so detest?”

Ah, Clorinde, you reply with a soft smile, setting down your teacup. Always one for blunt truths and cutting humour.

Clorinde leans stiffly against the back of her chair, expression hardening. I’m serious.

I appreciate your concern, truly, you reply, a hint of amusement in your voice. But marriage hasn't dulled my wit or ambitions, if that's what worries you.

The Champion Duelist crosses her arms and you catch a familiar shade of crimson dotting her sleeve. “I never doubted your wit, only questioned the timing of it all. You're a force to be reckoned with, and now you have a husband? It all doesn’t line up.”

“Consider it the responsibility of my duty — Lady Furina thought me ‘worthy’,” —you say this while quoting it with your fingers— “of this, and so there she went, thrusting me into another job I did not want to do.”

Given the slight furrowing of her brows, you surmise she is more intrigued than she’d like to come off as. “Oh? And what do you mean, ‘worthy’?”

“Worthy of being a pawn in her stupid games,” you groan, finding interest in the shape of your nails, a roll of your eyes prompted by the repulsive thought of the woman that started it all. “I won’t have you guess any further. Your guess is correct, unfortunately.”

Now she’s truly given herself away; despite the stoicness of her poise, the way she grips the table to bring herself closer to hear you better speaks volumes. “Oh really? My guess was a shot in the dark. Never expected myself to be right.”

“If you did in fact miss your guess, you, my dear Clorinde, would be out of a job.” you three of your fingers inward  to mimic the shape of a firearm.

Arms crossed, she flashes a grin. “I’ll just bail my way out through my boss.”

“I don’t think he’s as merciful as you think.”

“To me, probably. But you’re another story.”

You scoff, your head canting to the side. “You think I’m the exception? Yeah, right.”

“Are you blind? Everyone in the workplace has been either praising or critiquing his bias,” She helps herself with the kettle of tea, slightly leaving her chair to reach for the handle. “But that’s the fun of it all. Keeps things interesting.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back in your chair. “Interesting is one way to put it. I prefer ‘degrading’.”

“Semantics,” she shrugs, a smirk playing on her lips. “Either way, what Lady Furina intended for your arrangement is playing out just as she planned.”

Time will tell, you muse, taking another sip of tea. But for now, let's talk about the blood on your sleeve, shall we?”

She reaches for her elbow, pulling the cloth toward her to take a closer look. “Oh — this? The usual, really. Criminals.”

“I see you’ve made short work of them.”

“As I usually do, miss ma'am.”

You try for another sip of your tea only to find that your lips come away empty; though with inexplicable reason you feel it as though you have, indeed, taken a generous gulp of it. With your eyes trained on Clorinde, you reach for another tea packet from the pouch.

“Speaking of which, that old man should be making his way over to the Palais in a moment. Saw him leave the Epiclese when I did.”

“Let’s not talk about him.”

Her eyes dart to every part of the room almost erratically, losing track of its target. “Great then, we shall move on to the next topic of conversation.”

In all your impatient habits you cannot wait for her to finish her sentence. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Archons, woman. You’re always so full of questions, you bursting buffoon,” Clorinde quips with a playful eye roll, noting the embarrassed look on your face. “But I was just going to mention what gift I got you.”

“Ooh, do tell.”

You did expect a gift sometime along this week: a lipstick, a gift she had frequented much in giving you, was nowhere to be found on the table, now replaced with a meticulously crafted blade with a sheen so polished it burned shadows into your irises. In one swift motion, a dagger slides onto the table, her hands prodding them forward. Her eyes study the subtle raise of your brow. “Not what you expected, I'm guessing?”

“Certainly so. But it is very in character for someone like you, Clorinde.” You trace the blunt end of the dagger with your finger, allowing your touch to graze the hilt. Foreign was the feeling of it in your hands,  the weight of it a limbo between light and heavy. It had been an undeniably long time since you were in possession of a tangible weapon, your reliability on both martial prowess and vision a dwindling skill since your role of being the Head of Civil affairs. “Thank you — but why?”

“I’m assuming you’re asking me what far fetched reasoning I have for it — but I’ll simply state this: you are now the focal point of public attention. And you know what that can stir?

“Envy?”

“Precisely. Or you could just take it as a token of our spar from a few weeks ago. Or to when we used to spar as children,” She delivers it with a sag into her seat, but beneath that facade, you know she really is just concerned.

You open your mouth to speak, but she interrupts you with an abrupt shift from her posture. “And before I forget — I got you more.” She holds a drawstring pouch teasingly in the air, and judging from the familiar clinking of glass, it’s exactly what you think it is.

You reach up for it, forcefully pulling it towards you. Peeking through the bag, you look up at Clorinde through your lashes. “How’d you know I ran out?”

“I'm your supply. Do you think I miscalculate, let alone forget? Come on, chenapan.”

You look away playfully, dodging the jab. “Shut up.”

Rain begins to patter erratically on the window, and both of you tear your focus to it. You swipe the curtain away to look out into the clouds, but you spot a familiar figure standing, hands poised on a railing. His hair is darkened, soaked by the water that drips down to his feet. 

A deep laugh stirs you from your staring. “I take it as my cue to leave. Have fun with your husband.”

You turn around as swiftly as one possibly can, and find her sitting up from her seat. “What? Already?”

“I have places to be. And you seem to have one in mind,” She gestures with her eyes to the man outside, and you roll your own.

“Are you serious right now?”

She flashes you a brief grin with a scrunch to her nose. “What do you think?” Before you can object, she rids herself from your clutches and slips through the door — and when you make your way to peek out from your office, you see nothing but the closing of the entrance.

Shame compels you to shut the door as you lean back, letting your head find solace against the smooth, polished wood. Your gaze, once fixed on the deathly white expanse of the ceiling, drifts instead to a forgotten frame resting on your shelf, its surface gathering a gentle layer of dust.

With no one to distract you from the paperwork on your desk, you find yourself moving of your own volition. If there’s no one to bother…then…

Tea it is.

Picking at the drawstring, you reach blindly for a packet of tea, letting whatever god decide which flavour would be bestowed upon you. You hope it’s chamomile.

It ends up being mint. You make a disinterested scrunch to your nose before lazily studying the print of the brand of tea out of sheer subconscious curiosity. Whatever you’ve just read draws you out of your stupor and suddenly you’re sitting up straight.

This brand is so undeniably familiar. 

And yet, before you can make the connection yourself, the way your heart picks up in pace tells just as much. The main cause of your mother’s murder. A harmless tea packet, seamlessly packaged with powdered death. It had long since been discontinued, but you make a whirl in your seat and hold up the tea packet beside the silhouette of the man standing far from your window and you begin to wonder. 

A pair of bloodied hands drag you by the throat to your home. Your mind forcibly tears itself open by the seams, flooded by the quiet, harmless serenity of dawn — shattered by gasps of your mother with her hands clutched, clawing at her neck. Your father’s calm, almost rehearsed demeanour as he offered her the cup, his eyes glinting with sinister intention; one of you which you were too blind to recognise.

As you clutch the packet, the print of tea blurs against the well that rim your eyes. Maybe it was what your father always had on his person: a gift, a kind gesture, a murder weapon. 

Given the period of Neuvillette’s station, it would be an educated guess to say that your father had met him several times. You can almost see it: your father charming the Chief Justice with that same smile, his lies wrapped in the veneer of regard. For the first time, you feel a flicker of doubt. Could he be unaware? Could he too have been a pawn in your father’s deadly game?

With the curtain of silence drawn between you and Neuvillette since the rise of never ending contretemps, you think maybe you should ease it a little, but not too much — you are inquiring only of his acquiring of such tea.

You stand from your seat, reaching for the parasol that leans against a wooden leg of your desk. It worries you not at how you drag it across the floor, the rubber end of it leaving nothing but a squeak of friction.

Ensuring the door to your office is firmly shut, you begin to pace through the opulent halls of the Palais with an almost childlike curiosity that stirs within you, urging you to uncover what solace he finds in standing amidst the rain. Each step is measured, the echoes of your footsteps mingling with the soft patter of raindrops, growing more muffled than the last imprint of your stride. Avoiding Sedene is a calculated move on your part, slipping past her by briskly walking on your toes when her eyes are plastered on something you aren’t able to discern past the counter.

You slip quietly past the back end of the Palais and push through the heavy barricade of the backdoor. A light coolness touches your head in irregular successions, prompting you to look up at the now brighter sky, a marked change from the sombre gloom it had worn when you last observed it from the inside. 

The slide upwards from the metal skeleton of your parasol scrapes against the gentle downpour, and you eye his figure from behind a white pillar. Nothing seems to stir him from his fixed gaze, one that overlooks the expanse of Fontaine, a land belonging, by technicality, to his people.

A wave of hesitation washes over you like a deluge, for perhaps such a matter is best discussed over tea (the irony of it does not escape you, but your preoccupation with trivial details overrides the thought).

Whatever. You loop the drawstring of the pouch of tea in your free hand, twirling it in your fingers as a makeshift fidget toy. The pad of your heels provides a necessary friction against the floor, a main giveaway of your whereabouts, and still he does not stir.

You walk until you are a few metres behind him, amusing yourself with the idea that he has come so far as to ignore your very existence—a foolish notion that has only furthered the distance between you both since the marriage.

He remains unmoved, ever so rigid and uniform in his stance.

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” you call, your voice carrying a command that transcends the simple utterance of his name — a subliminal message only he can decipher.

He turns slowly, his expression inscrutable as he realises it is you who has come to seek him out.  For a moment, he simply regards you, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Madame,” he finally responds, his tone courteous. “It is you.”

You take a step closer, the parasol offering minimal protection against the persistent drizzle. “Might I inquire about something? I expect you to not think too much of it.” You feel you know him enough to know of his tendency to over inspect on many a detail that come under his radar, so consider this a courtesy for one less burden. 

Neuvillette’s eyes flicker with a hint of something — surprise, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. “Go ahead,” he replies softly.

A scrunch of the small paper packets in the cloth brush against each other as you bring it up to eye level. You reach into it almost as naturally as if you were one of the magician prodigies that made themselves known amongst their covey at the grand festivals of Fontaine, producing seemingly impossible wonders from the very depths of their pockets.

“Does this brand of tea seem familiar to you?”

His head dips from the point of your parasol to the item of interest. Despite his speculated age, the rounding of his eyes seem to take off a few years, easing the wrinkle between his brows. “I am afraid it appears to be just about any tea brand. Is something the matter?”

You take a step closer, the rim of your umbrella shielding but a fraction of Neuvillette’s exposure to the rain. “Monsieur Neuvillette, this specific brand of tea hasn’t been manufactured to the public in five years.” 

Those words, once uttered, solidify your qualms, drawing you back to the very heart of your deepest fears. Yet, a part of you refuses to accept it. It could’ve been any other aristocrat! your mind suggests, desperately grasping for any semblance of hope. But you know such thoughts cannot obscure the harsh reality — and this you know well:

He is alive. And free. 

The man standing before you gazes at you with mounting concern, his eyes reflecting a growing unease. Shadows cast the contours of your face to form a mask of denial, yet you are acutely aware that he does not buy into your falsehood.

“Goodness, is the tea horrible?” he questions, the tremble of his voice a comical degree of concern you cannot help but laugh at. 

Scoffing, you turn your head to the left to avoid his probing eyes. “Why would I give myself the trouble of coming here if that was the problem?” you retort, trying to mask the heat trailing down your cheeks as tears threaten to escape. You blame it on the rain, but you know that isn’t why you are ablaze.

“Tell me what ails you, Madame. I shall fix it,” he implores, his voice filled with genuine worry and a desire to help.

“It is just as I said. The brand of tea. Do you have it delivered to your doorstep? Does it come in bulk?” you ask, questions tumbling out, each more desperate than the last.

He blinks, momentarily taken aback by your line of questioning. Even to your own ears, the inquiries sound strange and out of place — but, they are vital to uncovering the truth, to piecing together something you thought you left behind.

“Well — I had it gifted to me,” Neuvillette begins, his tone measured. “And in turn, I requested more with the intention of always having a suitable gift on hand.”

Your eyes flit to every outline of his features as you try to match the puzzle to the one you find is fraying in your very mind. His eyes betray nothing in your search for a tell, a slip. Everything brings you back to square one. Perhaps your father has already stopped in his schemes — or perhaps (you think with foolish aspiration) his age has taken him. But your father is too resilient and stubborn to die a cretin’s death. 

“Then that is that. I shall take my leave — sorry to bother you, Monsieur.” You wish to continue this investigation elsewhere, for you find that the sombre droplets of water that stain the parts of you that your parasol cannot protect is too gloomy and dismal.

As you bow and turn, you miss your husband’s act of hesitation: to let you go, or to be selfish. He is a man of duty and stature, and to stray from such virtues would be incredibly unbecoming. The topic of scandal rises for a brief moment (he seems to be as forgetting as you in remembering such a tie).

“Stay,” he murmurs, voice barely carried by the wisp of wind.

He himself seems surprised that he had gone so far as to reach for your wrist: an anchor, something to hold on to.

Brows knitting, your mind searching for anything to study — because who knows? A man’s intent can be just as malicious as any other of their kind. “What?”

“I am requesting that you stay,” he says, a little louder, before his voice drops again: “here, with me.”

You tip the handle of your parasol backward in an attempt for a better look — or, for lack of a better word: to appraise.

Your eyes scan him from head to toe. “And what for?”

His grip on your wrist loosens slightly, though he does not let go. “Company,” he confesses, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

The rain continues to fall around you, a gentle, persistent reminder of the world outside this moment. You study his face, noting the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability in his posture.

For a moment, you consider pulling away, retreating back into the safety of distance and formality. But something in his gaze holds you in place, a silent plea that begs for you to yield.

“Alright,” you say softly, lowering your parasol. “I’ll stay.”

His shoulders relax, and a faint smile graces his lips. “Thank you.”

You toe lightly until the tip of your heels meet the stoop of the balcony, which diverts the path of your stride so that you don’t nudge Neuvillette with your parasol (if it does, he makes no comment of it). The two of you stand in silence for what seems like aeons, the only assurance of him still being there being the slight rustle of his robes that have grown to latch onto his skin like lifelines. 

After a while, Neuvillette breaks the silence with a quiet, almost offhand comment. You know, he begins, his voice gentle, I’ve always wondered whether it is because I am rigid.”

“And what of your rigidity?” For this you find no reason to look at him — but you think he senses your sceptical brow nonetheless, the rain dulling almost when you find another, more interesting thing to latch onto: that being his response to your inquiry. 

“It is the very quality,” he replies, his tone reflective, “that compels you to resist, to fight tooth and nail against even the slightest inclination of giving me your attention.”

The shift of your head carries the weight of your astonishment. What a far cry! Oh, this man was certainly in your good graces for being so utterly unheeding. “You think that’s the problem? If you are having trouble, picture this — and I am talking from the perspective of those netizens that so revere you — you, the Chief Justice, stand between the very apple of the Oratrice. Do you not see? You are reduced to a mere byproduct, an instrument of Fontaine's justice. And justice always prevails; partiality, love, does not. Despite your greatest efforts, your own prejudices aren’t accounted for on the scales.”

You hadn’t expected to find yourself on such a tangent, but the words flow irresistibly, and you surrender to them. “Consider it, mon chéri.” The term of endearment carries no warmth; instead, it is a taunt, a beckoning.

“Is that what you think of me? Detached?”

The parasol now rests on your shoulder, supported by the balance of it as both your arms find a more comforting rest on the cemented railing. “Oh, I like that word: detached. You stand out here, overlooking the city just about how you might an audience at the Opera Epiclese and it makes me wonder if you are even able to dream.” 

“I do not come here to daydream.”

A bitter smile pulls at your lips, its sharpness cutting through the soft rain. “Do not play that game with me. Your pastime is quite what you are doing now, and it makes you look like a defeated dog. Has no one inquired of it? Ever? Have you never been questioned about the shadows in your eyes, the perpetual distance in your gaze?”

“The inquiries of others matter little to me. I am simply here to seek solace,” he responds, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of weariness that speaks of long, lonely nights and endless responsibilities.

The cuffs of your sleeves are now soaked from the rain, but you find it a small diversion to focus on while listening to his rebuttal. “Proves my point,” you murmur, brushing away droplets as you speak. “Your solitude is not solace.”

A low laugh sounds from Neuvillette. “You mistake my solitude for avoidance, for I have long carried the weight of my duties alone — and changing this is no easy feat.”

Without a second thought, you grasp the handle of your parasol and extend it to shield him from the rain, sacrificing your own comfort for his. In doing so, you are left drenched, the cool droplets seeping through your garments. It is the first time in many months that you have afforded yourself the opportunity to truly study the smooth contours of his profile. His opalescent eyes, so often inscrutable, now glimmer with a mingling of hope — sending a sudden chill of the rain upon your skin that nearly causes you to shudder, and yet you endure it, thinking perhaps it would not be so terrible to experience what he does.

You offer a small, tentative smile. “No, it isn’t. But it is not impossible, either. You must allow yourself to be human, Neuvillette, with all the imperfections and vulnerabilities that come with it. This arrangement shall fail without your empathy.”

He immediately extends the parasol back toward you, the fleeting warmth an indulgence for only a millisecond before the chill breeze takes you in its clutches again.  “Madame, your clothes —”

“You sought out my company, so this is what you receive. Take it as a token of my gratitude, and nothing more — for I’d like us to be on good terms, given our ranking and status as of late,” you push the item in his hand away, obliging him to latch onto it like a lifeline before it blows into the pattern of the wind.

“And do not forget, we have a ball to attend to,” you add, albeit very plainly.

It is a warp of the way light catches on the fine lines of his face — you tell yourself — when his lips quirk into a fatigued smile. “I do not forget important things.”

a/n: hey... hi... do you guys even remember me ive been in hiding for so long I am so sorry school is horrible finals are horrible ive completed my FINAL official exam today but that doesn't mean I won't have any tests for the rest of the term I have left when I tell u I RUSHED to complete this .

taglist : @sek0ya, @souxiesun, @11111112222222sblog

[bewitched-bullet]

Here you go @helloliriels ! This is only the part I finished tweaking

Actually, I always regret everything I do but I do it anyway 😅

(Working title: To Pull a Spider’s Silk)

Chapter 1

The labyrinthine streets of London were currently being slowly devoured by tendrils of thickened mist, offering an ethereal backdrop to the slow moving traffic and passive pedestrians. The eerie false twilight, gave a distinct pull -longing- for a fit of exploring.

‘Wanderlust’ He mused absently, letting the curtain fall back over the window.

Within a comfortably cluttered apartment of haphazard style and sense, a tall and lean figure moved across the room with unnatural grace, grabbed a grubby poker, and jabbed at the inoffensive logs in the fireplace. Small sparks from the fire spat out into the living room in protest. He carelessly flung the metal poker to the side with a clang and spun back around. His sharp, piercing gaze darted across the intricacies of case files spread like cryptic mosaics on his desk. Loose leaflets and some torn pages were taped, pinned, and a couple times -nailed- to the closest wall. Not his fault he ran out of tape. The air around him seemed to vibrate with intensity as he paced in front of his handiwork. A faint smile played unbidden upon his lips as he visually scoured the data.

The fire in the fireplace popped and snapped as it’s fuel shifted, casting wild shadows across the room. He remained unmoved and suddenly stilled, narrowing his ice-blue eyes. Quick as snake, he snatched a paper off the wall and with a final unimpressed once over, tossed it into the flames.

“Aaaargh, I need more information!”

He whipped out his phone from his back pocket, thumbs flying over the digital keyboard.

<< Get me more. SH

His foot tapped as he stared at the screen, waiting. Two minutes later, a ding.

>> Get stuffed.

‘Ugh!’

Annoying, but not unexpected. He tossed his phone to a chair, steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. Can’t go to the crime scenes without being invited (ridiculous), not allowed to step into the station without a case (see point 1) or near dead (unlikely, though appreciated), and not allowed to directly call unless near dead. He snatched the remote from the mantle and switched the small telly on.

The lastest press release of the murders suicides was being hosted by his associate (are they associates? He does associate with him in the verb kind of sense), Lastrade. Sherlock’s mouth twitched upwards as he watched the stress-grayed haired man give his little speech about the case. Sherlock pursed his lips thoughtfully. He may not be allowed to call but nobody couldn't tell him he can’t text whoever he wanted. He quickly retrieved his mobile, tapped a couple times on the glass screen, and confirmed ‘send all’ in a group message. Wouldn’t be able to trace it back to him anyway.

A soft knock at the door disrupted the room's stillness, the arrival of a visitor momentarily drawing his focus. He swiftly crossed the room and opened the door. His landlady, had brought the mail. He greeted her with raised eyebrows.

"Good evening, dear. It's quite chilly out there," she remarked, handing over the letters with a pat on his arm. "Do make sure you get yourself a nice cuppa; it’s going to be cold tonight."

Sherlock’s demeanor softened, and he offered a quick peck on top of her curls. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” he replied as he took the mail, his expression a mix of appreciation and distant contemplation. “Perhaps, you should make sure I do.”

Mrs. Hudson chuckled warmly. "Oh, Sherlock, you do need to take care of yourself,” she said in mock astonishment. “I’m not your housekeeper, you know.”

Sherlock rapidly sorted through the envelopes, tossing them carelessly to the floor. His flurry of movement was soon stilled. He tilted his head, catching something unusual in the pile in his hands. One letter stood out from the rest, its appearance distinct with swirling black ink, sealed with wax, and marked with a unique emblem. He dropped the rest to the floor as he weighed it in his palm, eyes narrowed.

Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock with mild worry. “Ah, perhaps I’ll check on you later anyway. I’ll bring a good meat pie.”

“Mmm…yes, very good,” Sherlock murmured as he turned away from her, sliding his thumb carefully under the seal. He barely registered Mrs. Hudson carefully closing the door behind her as he analyzed the stationary. He gingerly removed the creamy, heavy-weighted paper from the satin-like envelope and unfolded it, scanning it quickly. His frown deepened, and frustration simmered beneath his calm exterior as he re-read the message.

Tiptoeing the lines for the past two years to remain a free agent had been a delicate and frustrating balance. Most of the time, he could believe in the illusion it provided. However, every now and then, reminders of how fragile that "freedom" was came knocking. With a low snarl, he snapped his wrist, and the fancy stationery spun into the fireplace It quickly caught aflame green tinted tongues lapping at it greedily, curling the darkened edges. He remained like stone till every bit of it disintegrated into ash and embers.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

(Next will be John’s part)

I really hope you like this tidbit!

[somethingmissingthiswaycomes]

I just read a post I would have liked to reblog for some points, but not for others — so I think I'll just muse about it in my own post.

The post was about the dichotomy of TME and TMA — terms I at first accepted without thought and then began to criticize and eventually grew annoyed with, then saw them as a straight up red flag because of how big the center circle of the Venn diagram seems to be between people who use those terms regularly online and people who use them to disparage trans people who were assigned female at birth. The crossover with people who use insults like "theyfab" seemed to be pretty big too. And it's inaccurate of course; you can't say anyone is transmisogyny exempt based on an innate aspect of their identity. And people who use TME as an insult (seemingly anyone who used it at all) seem to all be hateful about transmascs having terms like transandrophobia to describe their experiences.

But the post that made me muse right now started out saying that yes, it's not precise, it's not fully accurate, but there's something experienced in perpetuity by transfemmes, assigned male at birth, that isn't experienced by anyone who can convincingly assert that they're not trans women — and TMA is trying to reach for that, and transmisogynists wouldn't grant us any language to describe our experiences.

I've been wrong a lot about fundamental things, and realizing where I've been wrong tends to start with a feeling that there's something I'm trying to reject, because it's uncomfortable to me or violates my previous worldview. Learning I was trans, learning about plurality, the process of noticing transandrophobia within the trans community... and long before that, when I lost the faith I'd been raised in and came to recognize it as highly damaging. It's deeply unpleasant for these shifts to happen.

I've been getting a feeling like that lately, but I wasn't sure where it was placed exactly. Each time I notice a problem with my worldview, I get more cautious about what possible new problems could crop up. It makes things, well, more uncomfortable.

Anyway, this one post I'm mulling over phrased things in a way that made me start looking more closely at what it is I've been avoiding. Because my mistrust of people who talk about TMAs and TMEs came alongside a rising pride and solidarity in transmasculinity, and a frustration with people who deny the trans community language by calling us "transandrophobia truthers" and other closed-minded, bigoted nonsense. (It's so fucking frustrating.) So... I haven't been looking for discussions about the terms TMA/TME outside of the hateful context it was showing up for me in.

And this post I'm mulling over mentioned requiring language to talk about experiences, and that clicked. It clicked with me that, while there are a whole lot of people playing boys v girls 2.0 in all this, there's an underlying need to be able to discuss the unique experiences that come with every aspect of who and what we are — and we're trying to categorize, categorize, categorize.

Part of what made me decide not to engage with the post that made me start talking about this is that the OP brought up the idea of transfeminine people who were assigned female at birth... and how that's, to them, a ridiculous idea. The thing is, it's not, and accepting that is part of not overcategorizing. It's an unusual thing, but it's real, and it can mean different things. You can't restrict the type of people who can exist.

But it's true that there are experiences specific to one's assigned gender (like AMAB) and to one's physiological reality associated with it that, in an intersection with a specific or adjacent actual gender (like trans woman, transfeminine, or transneutral with perceived femininity), are important to recognize as, for the most part, unique.

My ability to be specific here breaks down, though, because I know from reading the words of certain intersex people that a lot of the intersection of transfeminine and perisex AMAB isn't actually unique unless you ignore intersex people. I don't think I can say more than that. I don't think I can get nuanced enough.

But I can use an "opposite" example to try to draw a parallel. Because there is an AFAB trans experience that isn't shared by perisex trans people who were assigned male at birth: the risk of pregnancy, and specifically restrictions on bodies with uteruses. That's a difference that TERFs like to prey on to drive a wedge in the trans community. They like to convince us that they're the only ones who care about that part of our lived experiences. That is wrong. And we shouldn't let that difference divide us.

In the same vein, we shouldn't let that difference being something that could divide us turn the topic into one that trans people who have uteruses need to sacrifice in order to stand together with trans people who don't. I think that's contributed to transmasculine erasure. The assertion that it must be so would fall under the umbrella of transandrophobia, a much needed term for the sake of discussing that.

Now back to transmisogyny affected/exempt. An argument I've often shared and agreed with and been fervent about is that it's just recreating the AFAB/AMAB binary. And I have seen people argue that no it's not, it's different, but in recognizing how often it's used that way by bad actors, I decided to ignore that argument. I'd say it doesn't matter; it may as well be that.

I think I've been wrong. And I've known I was wrong, in the back of my mind, for a while. My initial acceptance of the TMA/TME dichotomy had me making that same argument, so it felt like something I had moved beyond. Now I'm letting myself look at it more closely, I'm coming to a less accepting-it-on-faith understanding of the argument.

I'm also forming a new way of explaining my own experiences as a genderfluid person. Hopefully doing so will help to articulate what I'm thinking;

I am, currently, TME. Not in the literal sense that I don't experience transmisogyny at all, but in the sense of, "I have a body that allows me to avoid and avert transmisogyny directed explicitly at my person." I'm affected by transmisogyny in a lot of ways I've been working through for some time now, and it's for that reason that I still await better terms for this concept—but using these terms as I believe good faith actors do, while I'm not exempt from transmisogyny in general, I am TME.

But I won't always be.

I am a genderfluid person who was assigned female at birth. I started testosterone a few years back, and then I stopped because I wasn't sure how far I wanted to take it. I've been coming to terms with the fact that I need to go further and I may have to be on HRT indefinably to be able to be my full, real self... but I'm still also a woman. And it will cause me dysphoria if I can't present as a woman at times when my body has been fully affected by testosterone.

I don't know if I'll be able to be stealth in any direction. I will be affected by transmisogyny in a way I'm not right now. The difference between how I'm affected by transmisogyny now and how I will be then can, at the moment, be communicated with "I'm TME now, but I'll be TMA when I transition."

And that terrifies me, honestly. I had recognized that terror as being me internalizing transmisogyny, but not as me being afraid of it. I know I'll be more comfortable with myself, but...

The forms of transmisogyny experienced specifically by people who are perpetually perceived as male (or "supposed to be male") while presenting as female are more scary than what I experience now.

And that is worth being able to talk about.

And that is worth having a term for.

And I suppose "TME" and "TMA" are the terms people are using right now, at least online. Imprecise language is something we have to work around sometimes.

I do hope that the discussion can evolve language that doesn't so easily allow bad actors to use otherwise potentially useful terms as a weapon of lateral bigotry.

And, in general, I hope the discussion can move in a direction that discourages that more by rejecting separation of trans people into boxes based on AGAB without erasing experiences that come with AGAB. Categories are good and useful to a point — but not as boxes so much as colors we're painted with. You can't split people into groups based on any one category they're colored with without forcing some people within those groups to de-prioritize something else they are.

...

This feels like it could be a draft for a real good blog post, but I know I won't post it if I wait and try to rewrite things later, so it'll have to be the finished thing.

It's been a while since I tried to add to the conversation like this. Gonna turn my anons off in case of problems. I am OUT of spoons and won't be able to respond to any opinion about this, but feel free to say things anyway if you're nice.

[byemambo]

We Are Main Characters as BTS Songs: A Deep Dive

Everyone on my dash is assigning BTS songs to the We Are characters and I have to put in my two cents actually 5 million dollars because I can't be normal or shorthanded about anything but this time it's about We Are and music:

Peem - Just One Day

I wanna be locked in you and swim in you I want to know you more, an explorer venturing through your deep forest of mystery I appreciate the masterpiece that is you because your existence alone is art

Just One Day always had the nostalgic, sitting in an empty classroom on a sunny day with the windows open and the curtains flowing from the wind, and I associate that feeling of warmth and solace with Peem. He's always been someone with a big heart and we can see that through his upbringing with a loving family and earning a solid group of friends and juniors that love and appreciate him just as much, if not more than how much he loves and appreciates them. Despite their rough beginning, slowly but surely, Phum and Peem become each other's safe space and lets each other enter into their individual worlds: the art studio, Phum's apartment with his stuffed plushies, the festival, the art gallery, the beach, the pool, Peem's hometown in Chiang Mai. Once both of them start exploring each other's existence and leaving room for vulnerability, Peem showers Phum with affirmations (along with teasing of course) and the physical touch he was depleted of, while also leaving room for his own boundaries and desires that build up their relationship rather than beating down.

From constantly reminding Phum that he validates his existence, to allowing Phum to express his own affection through physical touch and words of affirmation, Peem becomes someone that attracts the admiration of others. He becomes people's home away from home, or a home that one never had. Not only from Phum, but also from Kluen. His selflessness and attention to detail is vital for long lasting relationship with others, but one of his best qualities will always be his temperament. That he doesn't have to condemn himself to hell on earth, either for himself or for others. That he can be content over the smallest of things, disappointed when things don't go his way, angry when he confronts mistreatment from others, calmness and empathy when letting another person down but still having the capacity to continue on with how a dynamic currently stands and at the same time, having the ability to relinquish and let go of feelings and experiences that no longer serve him. Now that Phum has earned a prominent spot in his life, as a fellow artist, I can only imagine how exciting it is to claim and adore your muse.

Phum - Hold Me Tight

Hold me tight, hug me Can you trust me? Can you trust me? Can you trust me? Pull me in tight

Hold Me Tight is one of my favorite songs, especially when I'm feeling down and need music to reflect that. Phum has always been a shut off person that hid behind money and arrogance to brush off how much his trauma affects his every day living. Knowing that his family failed to meet his emotional needs as a child and neglected him once he was sent abroad, he lived a life full of inconsistency from the people who should be most important to him, Fang being the only solidarity in his life that he can really allow himself to exist in his own right. Once he meets Peem, he uses their unusual circumstances to bring entertainment into his life, even if it meant compromising someone else's comfort and security. However, a turning point takes place around the time he ditched Peem at the mall in episode 3, believing he would give up after some time and wondering why Peem continued to wait. Once Peem establishes a moment of clarity by telling Phum "You said to wait, so I did," and setting a boundary due to his mistreatment, Phum confronts his complicated relationship with the integrity of others. How there are people who are consistent in saying what they mean and meaning what they say: if he met someone that does just that, that doesn't make him different from those that consistently disappointed him.

We see Phum's first attempt at accountability by apologizing to Peem, which he was very reluctant on doing so due to his value system at the time. But knowing that he must earn the trust and presence of Peem just as everyone else that's important to Peem has earned, Phum starts realizing why so many people love and adore Peem. His straightforwardness, his passion, his wit, but most importantly, his compassion are all things that become a karmic mirror to others, forcing those around him to start questioning their own values and beliefs and if they deem so, change for the better. Once Phum does earn his way into Peem's daily life, Peem becomes a safe space for Phum, allowing him to express who he is and how he deals with his response to dysfunction: confrontation rather than avoidance. Even though he'd rather not say, Peem understood this immediately and offered his reassurance through physical touch: holding him tight.

Q - Still Life (with Anderson .Paak)

I'm still life, but I'm movin' Just live now, goin' forward, yeah A still life that does not stop, keep my flower blooming again Gimme no name 'cause I'm untitled (Oh, yeah) My life is on display, still life, still life

Still Life is such a groovy and upbeat song, which I feel best suits Q as a person. Someone full of passion and care for his work and the people most important to him, he becomes someone where "what you see is what you get." Just his mere existence seeks out praise, admiration, and respect, which of course the best example of this is Toey's relationship with him pre mentee and post mentee. Q has very few areas where his life isn't transparent or straightforward, but he had been protective of revealing much information about his first love or allowing someone to enter his arena.

I think of Q as someone that has capacity in candidly opening up to his friends or noverbally through his own artistic expression, but when it comes to love (which I've seen people claim his demisexuality which as a fellow member, I 100% agree), an entirely different battlefield presents itself. The challenges of opening your heart to others due to immense protection and guard, the lengths we go by jumping to conclusions or setting ourselves up for failure by choosing inaction to prevent further disappointment and guilt rather than action in fear of not being met with the same feelings or worse, hatred and disregard. Knowing how special his relationship was with Milk Frappe Boy as Pencil Senior, Q reveals a sensitive side that's avoidant of deceit, entertainment from his personal matters, and the potential of pursuing someone who cannot return the same feelings and being met with heartache. Regardless of the trials and errors when he established his coping mechanisms to move on from the past, once he is convinced and torn apart of his logical fallacies, Q becomes the same, if not more, vibrant and radiant person he had always been. You can see his love and adoration with Toey once they made up and he took that final leap of fate.

Toey - Euphoria

You are the sunlight that rose again in my life A reincarnation of my childhood dreams I don't know what these emotions are Am I still dreaming?

Toey is easily one of my favorite characters and how much glow and aura he has with the other characters, which is how I feel when listening to Euphoria. We see how Tan is the main bridge between all the different friend groups and dynamics, but Toey also plays this role in a different way by being the junior/younger brother figure that everyone wishes to take care of and adore. His energy is full of life and magnetic in pulling anyone in, as he creates soft spots for a lot of the people in his life. Peem and Q being his seniors/mentor that he can play with and tease, Phum and Fang being older brothers that he can cling onto as they protect him.

The backstory of Milk Frappe Boy and Pencil Senior is one of the sweetest depictions of young romance I've seen in awhile and really encapsulates the puppy love that Toey has for Q before they truly knew each other and the journey they embarked on. Knowing how Toey risked going to the same school as Q despite having plans to study abroad, we can see how Toey is willing to take risks and chase after his dreams, while still being someone who's afraid of the ever changing future if his past is revealed to the person he loves and honors the most. Feeling like his world filled with affection and "one sided love" shattered when his feelings were accidentally revealed to Q and presenting itself as if his actions were a joke and form of entertainment for the rest of the group due to their involvement, we see Toey fall apart as if he woke up from his dream. Luckily, which I can see how Q's temperament as a person allowed this transition to flow in a realistic way, Q yields to Toey shortly after their misunderstanding, bringing their relationship back full circle and entering a new era of authentic love and desire for the whole world to see, not just between them in their own intimate world.

Tan - Friends

A somewhat strange kid Me from the moon, you from the stars Our conversations were like homework BFFs on one day, enemies on another I just wanna understand

Friends is such a heartfelt song that reflects the upbringing and memories of the BTS members, but I feel that it suits Tan well. It highlights the duality of Tan's personality, where he has a very lovable and bright aura with various moments of silliness and fun, but once those moments pass or may be inappropriate in certain situations, Tan is actually a very serious person when it comes to caring for the people who mean most to him. Knowing the backstory of how his friends mentioned his days of being a playboy and getting into fights (which I can't get over that being how he and Fang first meet), we see him softening up after realizing the worth and value of those that care so deeply about him to the point where he must choose between having them remain an important part in his life or to continue heading down a rocky decent from his resorts to violence and impulsivity.

Although impressions with Fang were far from glamorous (which I talked about in one of my deep dives!), Tan's walls start crumbling once he realized that he must do better for his loved ones, not for his sake but for theirs. That his friends and loved ones deserve someone of honor and integrity. And he does just that: becoming the lovely and compassionate person he is today. His emotional intelligence is well balanced, making room for both reassurance and playfulness when dealing with the mental distress of others. Tan has an innate quality of protectiveness and care for the people around him, which we see most clearly with Fang throughout the series but also seeing him taking care of Peem's dad in episode 14 when bringing him a drink after he arrives home. He has one of the purest hearts and easily became one of my favorite characters in media, not just QL!

Khaofang - Love is Not Over

Love is so painful Goodbayes are even more painful I can’t go on if you’re not here Love me, love me Come back to my arms

Love is Not Over is one of my top BTS songs, which gives me similar feelings as Hold Me Tight but with more longing and adoration. Fang has also become one of my favorite characters due the handling of the juxtapositions he deals with on so many levels. His inability to yield between his younger brother feuding with their parents, his deep rooted insecurities of his sensitivity and "unattractive" moments of vulnerability, his abandonment issues and dealing with survivor's guilt. He is such a well written and admirable character and this reveals itself once Tan integrates himself back into his life, which took a pause from their times in high school where they were like water and fire.

Because of his family's dysfunction and angst, Fang also deals with the inconsistencies and develops his own coping mechanisms with the trauma, through a reserved facade which actually contains the deepest of wounds. Feeling as though it's his responsibility to sacrifice himself for the family to not enter war times, refraining from expressing himself from shyness and fear of abandonment. His definition of love is complicated and pessimistic, his anxiety driving a wedge between his desire for love while questioning if he's worthy of it. When he revealed to Tan that if he ever chose to leave, to tell him so he could prepare his heart for the heartache, Tan immediately inserts confidence in their relationship through his vocal expression of devote and earnest love for Fang, showing Fang that there's nothing to fear and that he will remain in his life for the long run. Once this moment occurs, we can see just how much more expressive and bold Fang becomes in displaying his love for Tan, realizing that their love isn't over, and won't be for a long time.

Chain - Embarrassed

Why am I getting weirder in front of you? I’m not a pre-schooler but why is everything so childish? Look at my eyes, my jokes aren’t serious Saying this is so hard, I like you

Embarrassed/Blanket Kick is one of the most wholesome songs and I think is describes Chain's dynamic with Pun within the friend group. Someone who is clearly displaying individual interest and adoration towards Pun, however, Pun's density and ignorance whittles each and every moment. Even if Pun doesn't show clear signs of understanding Chain's true feelings towards him, we can see how reliable and attached Pun is to Chain on a platonic level. How Chain is always willing to yield himself in taking care of Pun's needs, whether it's sitting through and accompanying his off key singing, being the first person to call when Pun finds the injured bird, going out of his way to coparent the bird back to good health while also caring for Pun (the bird being called Guin is just too cute).

Even though Chain's efforts in being alongside Pun and his shenanigans are physical, as of episode 14, we still haven't had a moment of clarity in addressing the elephant in the room and finally dedicating their feelings for one another, becoming the slowest of slow burns. I can only imagine all the moments they share where a moment of intimacy comes up and Chain has every opportunity to confess, however, I know they will arrive at their destination in due time and in their own silly little way. It's one thing to be physically present for the person that means most to you: it's another thing to lay out your feelings with the chance that they won't be reciprocated. The battle between "should I or should I not" is what Chain is currently dealing with, only making you want to root for their success even more.

Pun - Moon

You were the one that made your way to me I do believe your galaxy, I want to listen to your melody Your stars in the Milky Way, don't forget that I found you anyways

Pun's character has always been so endearing to me and on the surface, seems like he's just serves as comedic relief alongside other characters that serve the same function. However, we start to see the multitude of qualities Pun exhibits as a person and how he carries himself: that even though he's usually upbeat and playful with lots of unserious moments, he's a deeply empathetic person that wants to give back to the world around him. Although he needs lots of help with navigating the world sometimes, Chain has become such a person that it's second nature to rely on him for all sorts of things, truly becoming the Moon revolving around the Sun. However, the beauty of Pun's relationship with Chain is just how unconditional Chain's care and willingness to do just about anything for Pun is crystal clear.

I understand Chain's innate attraction to Pun and his character, just based on individual moments throughout the series that establish Pun has someone that doesn't have a mean bone in his body. How despite his silliness, he's actually a well rounded individual that has the ability to command a room and establish himself in a leader position through his empathy and desire to make the world more beautiful (which always cracks all of us up that he's a political science major). Even though we know Pun is capable of taking care of things himself if need be, he's someone who allows himself to let go of his seriousness and seek out help and assistance from those around him in any given moment that feels necessary. I think his relationship with Chain really encapsulates the trajectory of where Peem and Phum's relationship is slowly amounting to: that there doesn't have to be a moment where you have to handle life alone and that someone is willfully ready to be by your side. Pun is slowly starting to realize how much Chain has been by his side through all their adventures, which makes me root for their slow burn that will end in a wholesome establishment of what their relationship truly became over the course of the series: an established married couple.

This was so fun to sit and talk about despite not being a hardcore BTS fan like I used to back in the day, however, maybe I'll assign my more current favorite group songs to the We Are characters. I'm thinking ATEEZ, THE BOYZ, ONEWE, DAY6, Xdinary Hereos, definitely groups with well written lyrical content and a diverse range of genres.

[mask131]

The myth of Apollo (5)

And here is the last part of Françoise Graziani’s article « Apollo, the mythical sun » (begun here).

IV/ The mystical Sun

The interpretation of the Sun as a symbol of royalty was already present during the Renaissance but was truly amplified by the baroque era. This iconological interpretation was first punctually associated with the panegyric (Ronsard in his “Elegies” wrote “Henry, the Sun that inspired me”), then to the emblematic, as the royal crown was depicted as a crown of sun-rays. While Tyard saw a positive symbol within the idea of the Sun “Prince and rector of the sky”, the baroque poet Drelincourt, in 1677, compared it to a “superb King, who shines in his Court, Crowned with rays” – but only to better accuse the celestial body of being a simulacra of God, a “weak painting”. Within the same idea, Du Bartas substituted the false pagan god to the real God: “The world is a cloud through which shines, not the bow-shooting son of the beautiful Latone, this divine Phoebus, but…”. It is very revealing that Drelincourt presents a critical and desacralizing interpretation of the sun, where it loses its mythical name and function… while writing within the court of Louis XIV, right as the king ideologically concretizes the literary allegories by depicting himself within Versailles (the “house of the Sun”) as Apollo, as the sun on earth. Drelincourt concludes his sonnet “About the Sun”, by insisting that the Sun is just the “portrait of the Primal Cause”: “your brightness is but a Shadow, and you are not the Sun anymore”. The mythical Sun is a false sun, but it is replaced in the metaphorical heaven by the real mystical Sun, the Christ, that the Renaissance paintings sometimes depicted under the traits of Apollo. As a reflection of the true God, as the interpret and the vehicle of God’s light, the Christ was a solar character, whose death was thought as bringing a “night” to the Western world (it was how the poets metaphorize the eclipse that occurred during the Crucifixion). This identification, very common within the mystical baroque poetry, was sometimes pushed to the point of including (in a very unusual way) some episodes of Apollo’s legends within the Christian allegory (such as Hyacinthus or Clythia).

V/ The Sun of intelligence

The mystical sun is, in a paradox that determined all poetic interpretations, linked to the decline of the mythical sun. And yet, the mystical sun is born from a very old topos, the one of the Deus Pictor: if God is a painter, and the Universe his painting, than the Sun (and the poets claim it since the Hellenistic times) is his brush. In the baroque era, the solar myth, heavily used in a metaphorical (not quite allegorical) way, leads this motif towards the realm of abstractions. Every time it appears, it is linked to two elements: on one side, the Sun as a divine principle and an instrument of creation which becomes the double of the poet (a poet that now dares associate himself with not just Orpheus, but Apollo). On the other side, the diurnal travel of the solar eye becomes the metaphor of the process of writing. Numerous baroque texts play on the similarity between the words “rayons” (the rays) and “crayon” (the pencil), to show the Creator in his picturesque and scriptural functions. In a similar way, it is traditional to punctuate long poems by various sunsets and sunrises, described in such a way that they establish an analogy between the rhythm of the days, and the rhythm of the poem itself.

It is for example the case within G. B. Marino’s “Adone”, where, at the end of the poem, the Muse answers Apollo’s call, and comes to “end the thread of this long canvas”, and the end of the last day is described in textual terms: “The sky is of paper, the darkness of ink, the ray a feather / Which with the sun erases the ending day to write / to the West, in letters of gold, the end of the long travel.” Within “Adone”, Apollo is present under different shapes. He is found, in a metaphorical way, in the character of the hero, Adonis, which ultimately is just a gaze that crosses the various spectacles of the universe (celestial world, terrestrial world, cultural world) and is often compared, due to the “shine of his youth”, to Apollo. As the sun is the eye that brightens the world, that reveals the world and that allows it to be, the first creating gaze over the poem is done by the poet itself ; but there is another sight, the image of the human eye that reads and interprets the great Book of Nature. Adonis, within Marino’s poem, plays this role of reader, the double of the creature to which the secrets of the creation are hidden. He is, too, a “false sun”, and this is why Marino show him as a passive hero who, throughout the poem, does not understand what he sees: it is a reverse image of the philosophical sun of the Renaissance. He symbolizes the human soul, in the idea that the human soul only perceives the appearances, and mistakes itself for the sun because it was created in tis image. Marino’s Adonis is a “lonely eye” to which the gods (Venus and Hermes) reveal secrets, but the only world that receives the light of his gaze is the one of the book, of which the real writer is Apollo, “he who brightens the wise minds”. He who shines upon the minds embodies the last avatar of the god of Poetry: the divine Intellect, he who makes the minds shining and insightful, he who gifts human with both invention and divination. The solar sign valorizes the human Intellect, and more so over the individual intelligence. The god doesn’t “inspire” anymore, but he does more by “shining” upon the artistic works.

Apollo is more and more disguised as time passes by, to the point of losing his name – he is substituted so much he is even refused the qualificative of a god. He keeps however, as a mythical sign, a great coherence. The abstract uses of the Sun as metaphors for the divine eye contain very clear remains of its mythical nature. The connotations tied to the solar figure are simply the transpositions, on a metaphorical plane, of the elements tied to the god. The frequency of his use throughout the 16th and 17th centuries proves its almost ritualistic value, even though literature splits itself from the myth. As such, it seems that, as soon as the poetry does not bear the myth of the inspiration anymire, the figure of its titular god is slowly abandoned. Even though the invocation of the Muses persists, as a convention or as a periodical element, all the way to the 19th century. The names of “Apollo”, “Muses” and “Lyre” are enough to designate, by metonymy, and outside of all myths, the very concept of poetry.

VI/ Hyperion

With Romanticism, Apollo becomes the Archer again. The divine inspiration of the poet is not an illumination or a revelation anymore, but a shock, a stupefying possession. The poet, as Hölderlin writes, is “struck by Apollo” and, confronted by the presence of the god, he can’t be understood by other humans anymore. The poetic vocation is assimilated to a curse, and to a suffering. Within Hölderlin’s work, Apollo is fused with both Jupiter, he who strikes with the blinding lightning, he who “shakes and vivifies”, and with Dionysos, to condense itself ultimately in the figure of the Christ. He also especially identified with the one who was, according to Hesiod, his grand-father, the titan Hyperion. Just like Hyperion, of which he bears the name in the allegorical novel of Hölderlin “Hyperion”, the poet is a fallen and exiled titan, whose rebellion (pre-apollonian actions) are doomed to failure, but who keeps the vague memory of his solar origin and of his mission, while still being, like the sun, doomed to loneliness. A loneliness which, in this context, bears both a positive aspect, as the solitude which brings exaltation, and a negative aspect, the solitude which makes the poet a cursed man or a mad man. Apollo and Dionysos become one within the Romantic conception of madness as a sign of both divine election and mystical drunkenness. The fundamental ambiguity of Apollo is found back within the duality of the poetry, perceived as both a grace and an eviction. This duality was felt by the Romantics on an individual plane, and not on a conceptual plane like in the Renaissance.

An exceptional occurrence of the figure of Apollo within literature must be studied, quite close to Hölderlin’s own interpretation. Apollo appears as the subject and the hero of a 19th century literary work in only one piece, an unfinished poem by Keats which was also called Hyperion (1819). This brief epic of a Miltonian style depicts the fall of the Titans, banished by the New Gods, and the rise to divinity of the young Apollo, initiated by Mnemosyne. Within Keats’ writing, just like within Hölderlin’s work, Apollo is treated as the symbol of a “new beauty”, and as the tutelar god, not to say the embodiment, of the New Poetry. For both men, the accent is put on the “divine future” of Apollo: for Keats, Apollo only becomes a god when, thanks to Mnemosyne (who is in mythology the mother of the Muses), he understands his divinity, and this accession to Knowledge is a painful process. Apollo, before striking the poets, suffers himself from an “agony as burning as death is cold”. And he screams painfully when he was his epiphany. Within Hölderlin’s, the name Hyperion symbolized, by an antonomasia, the splitting of the hero, a hero turned to the Ancient Gods, that feels himself as their interpret, and yet is destined to inaugurate the renewal of the Teenager Sun through a New Poetic Religion. The poet which is speaking here is not yet born, and Hyperion represents the mythical prehistory of he who will only become a god, a pure lonely spirit, the “Hermit of Greece”, free of all heroic temptations, only after Romanticism. In a similar way, Keats brutally interrupts his poem right as Poetry is born.

[fereldanwench]

Valerie Powell Master Post

જ⁀➴₊⊹ This is a refresh of my previous master post for Valerie (available here).

✧ BASICS ✧ Full Name: Valerie Irene Powell Pronouns: She/her Date of Birth: 12 Oct 2041 Place of Birth: Charter Hill, Night City Height: 5'10" (178 cm) Weight: ~150 lbs Body Type: Athletic, curvy Eye Color: Dark blue-gray Hair Color: Blue (cerulean or sapphire) (brown-black naturally)

✧ PERSONALITY & SKILLS ✧ MBTI: ISFJ Lifepath: Corpo-rat Combat Style: Pistols, long-range rifles, tech attacks/hacking Languages: - English (native) - Japanese (full professional proficiency) - Spanish (elementary proficiency)

✧ RELATIONSHIPS ✧ Father: Sebastian Powell (deceased) Mother: Ava Powell (née Mercan; deceased) [tag] Siblings: None Other Relatives: - Edward Powell (uncle; estranged) - Nicolas Mercan (uncle; estranged) Closest Friends: - Jackie Welles - Viktor Vektor Notable Partners: - Kristen Hughes (ex; committed relationship) - Viktor Vektor (ex; fling) - Goro Takemura (married in 2081)

✧ NOTES ✧ - Although in-game she has the corpo lifepath, Valerie's career history is pretty varied before she joins counter-intel: Biotechnica data analyst, a slew of random service jobs, hostess (with a side hustle helping Jackie con some of her more notorious clients), and Arasaka security (which is how she met Jenkins). - Valerie doesn't dye her hair blue--She did when she first made the change, but she uses a cosmetic nanotech implant to alter the color of the strands at the root. - She had a very non-traditional education: Valerie was in the Night City public school system for elementary school, but she was pulled out when her maternal grandparents insisted on funding extensive private tutoring until she was 18. Learning Japanese was a part of that curriculum. - Her father was also very steadfast about the right to bear arms, and she was just 7 years old when she first learned how to handle firearms. - Valerie doesn't drink alcohol or do drugs. Addiction runs in both sides of her family, and she made the choice to go sober when she was about 27 years old. (Caffeine is the one exception--She needs several strong cups of coffee to get through the day.) - She doesn't have any tattoos, but she does have multiple piercings in both ears and a naval piercing. - A more comprehensive character sheet is available at Pillowfort!

Tags and relevant links updated under the cut:

Last updated: 24 May 24

✧ VALERIE'S TAGS ✧

💙 oc: valerie v powell

💖 fave: valerie v powell

🖼️ art: valerie v powell

🔖 fic: valerie v powell

✨ oc inspo: valerie v powell

💑 ship: goro x valerie

💖 fave: goro x valerie

🖼️ art: goro x valerie

🔖 fic: goro x valerie

🎬 outtakes: goro x valerie

🪄 muse fuel: goro x valerie

✧ ALTERNATE UNIVERSES & TIMELINES ✧

🐺 au: cyber witchers More or less a "retired" AU--This was born out of learning how to mod and putting Goro in the Witcher jacket

🌊 au: corpo naiad Also a retired AU--Just experimenting with some new locations and mods

🛡️ au: corporate loyalty An alternate timeline in which Valerie turns on Jenkins and sell him out to Abernathy, resulting in Valerie becoming head of counter-intel

🏜️ au: the open road An alternate timeline in which Valerie seeks refuge with the Aldecaldos rather than following Jenkins' orders to kill Abernathy

🧭 au: i only play for sport An alternate universe inspired by Tomb Raider in which Valerie is an intrepid treasure seeker and Goro is the bodyguard for a powerful kumichō

☢️ au: no gods no monsters A Fallout crossover--Details pending!

✧ CHARACTER SHEETS & MEMES ✧

Valerie Character Sheet

Valerie and Goro Ship Sheet

Valerie's Style Evolution (2060-2079)

Valerie's Corpo Lookbook

Valerie's Speech Mannerisms

Valerie's Character Influences

Valerie OC Profile

Valerie Aesthetics I

Valerie Aesthetics II

OC Tarot Card

OC Tag: Song Challenge

Unusual Muse Associations

Valerie's Affiliations

Valerie + Goro Relationship Card

Valerie's Name Meanings

Late Summer Aesthetics

Valerie's Rage Language

✧ META & PERSONAL REFLECTIONS ✧

Valerie and validating my sobriety

Valerie if she was a canon character

Valerie as an ISFJ and how she expresses love/sexuality

Valerie and being "Goro's thief"

Valerie and marriage

Valerie and not trusting Johnny

Gushing about Valerie!

Valerie on Evelyn and "straddling worlds"

On sex in the corpo world

Valerie and Jenkins' relationship

Valerie and being sensitive & honest in a cruel world

She's Valerie, not V (also BTS lore about her surname)

No love at first sight here

Musing on Valerie's background in Arasaka security

Summary of counter-intel events and Valerie's career history

Valerie's ability to read people

No one is ever free in Night City

Wanting to play more "pro-corpo" as a corpo

Valerie does think being with a corp is her best choice

Thoughts on my first experience with the Devil ending

Giving Goro and Valerie a happy ending

Early musing on the endgame options and being an engram

Valerie taking in the early morning views

✧ VIDEOS & CLIPS ✧

Valerie leaving a voicemail to Jackie post-heist

Valerie's In-Game Playlist on YouTube

"See a woman here with blue hair?"