#"Acid Juk

[nctinfo]

[TRANS] ViVi Magazine: NCT 127 Jungwoo, Mark & Haechan’s favorite fashion and ‘Who is the best out of the three’?

Q. Who cries the most? All: we will count to three and point to the one who we think it is. One, two, three! — everyone points to Jungwoo Mark: hahaha! This is... (laughs) Jungwoo: Certainly I often cry. But wouldn't you say I try hard to hold it in nowadays? Haechan: maybe, I don’t think so~ (laughs) Jungwoo: Yes, agree~

Q. Who is the most diligent and sincere? One, two, three! — Jungwoo and Haechan point to Mark, Mark points to Haechan Jungwoo: Mark is the right person for this question. Mark: I always considered growth a priority, is that being diligent and sincere? Haechan: Why did Mark hyung choose me? Mark: Haechan has a passion for what he likes and does not suddenly give up. He will keep challenging himself. Haechan: Eh, I'm not a child~ (laughs) 

Q. Who is the biggest narcissist? One, two, three! — Mark and Jungwoo point to Haechan Jungwoo: A narcissist is someone who loves and is full of himself right? Mark: (starts laughing) Haechan: I don't think I'm that narcissistic ~! (laughs) I just know what I'm good at and what I'm not good at. So I think I'm misunderstood because I'm actively speaking out about what I'm good at. The key point of this question is 'misunderstanding' 

Q. Who is the most popular? One, two, three! — Mark point to Jungwoo, Jungwoo point to Haechan and Haechan points to Mark Haechan: Let's point to one person Jungwoo & Mark: okayokay. Then it's Haechan. Haechan: Rather than being popular, it seems like these two are unpopular. It's a misunderstanding in the end. The key point of this question is also a 'misunderstanding' (laughs).

Q. Who is the biggest people insider? One, two, three! — Jungwoo and Mark point at Haechan Mark: Apart from me I think all members are insiders. Haechan: Rather than me being an insider it’s just that Mark hyung absolutely isn’t one. This time it’s not a misunderstanding (laughs) Jungwoo: Yeah. Agreed

Q. Person who talks the most? One, two, three! — Mark and Jungwoo point at Haechan Haechan: It’s not that I talk a lot, but because I’m often next to Mark hyung who’s quiet it makes me look like I’m a big talker. This time it’s a misunderstanding too (laughs)

Q. Who’s the most different on and offstage? One, two, three! — Mark and Haechan point at Jungwoo, Jungwoo points at Haechan Mark: The reason why I picked Jungwoo isn’t because the difference is so big, it’s more like on stage he doesn’t show the image he shows when he’s next to us. Jungwoo hyung really has a lot of even cooler and cute sides to him. That’s the reason. Haechan: For me, it’s Jungwoo hyung too. Jungwoo: Then for me, it’s Haechanie because… Usually, Haechan is really cute, isn’t he. He does aegyo he jokes a lot and overflows with charm, but when he goes on stage he suddenly becomes cool. He changes so abruptly. Haechan: Every song has a concept doesn’t it. On stage, I am showing the image that fits. So my real image is when I get off the stage

~Extra Edition~ Please let us know what’s your favorite fashion style!

Mark: Uhm.. To be honest, when I looked a little earlier there was this cute denim… I found it, this, this! Is it for women? Haechan: Did you really pick something you’d want to wear? Mark: Ah, I’m not meant to pick something for me, but what I’d like on a girl? (laughs) In that case, since I like caps, I think girls wearing caps are cool too…… (keeps looking for a styling that has a cap) But when I look at it, it’s also cute when girls wear hoodies. Oh, there’s a cap! I like this one!

Jungwoo: For me this is cute! When you take off the jacket in this styling it seems very simple and comfortable. Since I like rough styling…. This simple t-shirt and skirt don’t really feel completely decorated but with heels becoming the point it’s really nice. I like the short hair too!

Haechan: I saw something pretty before….. Here it is. For me, it’s that one. The fresh necklace and the bag are the main points and it’s cute.

~Extra Edition~ Welcome, Haechan! We’ve asked Haechan questions that we have asked the members back in February in Osaka! Haechan happily answered various questions♡

Q. If you were to describe yourself briefly? Haechan: Variety of charms. In Korea, it means that someone has many sides to them.

Q. If you went to a convenience store what would you buy? Haechan: You mean a Japanese convenience store right? Donkatsu flavored cup ramyeon, udon and ginger ale if it was there! And lactic acid bacteria drink Pirukuru. It doesn’t have any bad things in it. Manager hyung always bought it whenever we were in Japan so I tried it too. And it was so tasty, so since then I’ve been buying it often, and on top of that it’s so good for your health! I’m still not very confident with speaking Japanese and I can’t read the product description so I always go with manager hyung. So someday I’d like to go on my own!

Q. Tourist attraction or food you recommend for people going to Korea? Haechan: Place I’d like to personally recommend is Jeju’s coast road. I used to live on Jeju, and the sea and the view are so pretty, when you go on a road trip by car it feels so good too. There’s also a lot of yummy local restaurants. Something I’d like to recommend the most is black pig, it’s really delicious! There’s so many ways to eat it, Jeju’s black pig is really tasty and well known.

Q. Who’s in charge of confidence in NCT 127? Haechan: I’m NCT 127’s maknae, so I listen to the hyungs and lift the mood hahha

Q. Tell us a song you like and the reason for it. Haechan: I like SHINee sunbaenim. And I really like Taemin hyung’s songs so I always listen to them. His voice is really cool and he dances so well, I admire whatever he does. 

Q. Japanese phrase you’ve learned recently? Haechan: It’s “we’re filming today” (laughs)

Q. A popular phrase in Korean? Haechan: I couldn’t follow the trends lately….. Ah, then do you know ‘byeol’? Abbreviating everything is always popular in Korea, this word itself is short for ‘byeol-da-jul’ (abbreviating everything). Another one that’s often abbreviated is ‘eol-juk-a’. This one is ‘Ice Americano Even If You Freeze To Death’ (for people who drink iced beverages even in really cold weather). The point is to shorten everything to an extreme like the Ice Americano becomes just an ‘a’.

Q. If you could become another member for one day? Haechan: Taeil hyung. Usually, I don’t know what Taeil hyung thinks about and I can’t find out. Also he’s the oldest in our team so I’d like to get a feeling of what he thinks about.

Q. You’re on the move a lot, what do you do in that time? Haechan: If the commute is short then I’d listen to music or watch videos. If we’re on the move for a long time I sleep with music on the most. I listen to SHINee or the latest charts. Not only Korean charts but also Billboard, lot’s of Japanese songs and so on.

Translation: Alex, Esmee @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: ViVi [ Kor ] — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

#NCT #NCT 127 #jungwoo #mark #haechan #t:trans #vivi magazine #t:interview

[vampwrrrmistresslist]

Haunted 3

You were carrying the cuff-links everywhere, now.  It wasn’t a conscious choice, it just…happened that way.  They felt comforting in your pocket, in your hand.  Even if you didn’t remember grabbing them, they were always somewhere on you, somewhere within close reach.  

***

Flat on your backs in a field of flowers, you both gazed up at fat, fleecy clouds floating by in an azure sky.  

You always make it so pretty.

I like to make it pretty for you.  I like to see you smile.  

I have a question.

You can ask me anything.

How is it that you can do things…out there…while you’re in here with me.

A shadow passed over his face.

Oh!  You don’t have to tell me–

No, it’s fine.  He sighed deeply.  It’s like…it’s like, there are two of me.  The me-me, here, with you, the me who is me…and…the other.

Other?

He nodded.  He’s like me, but…angry.  Hungry.  Like all of my anger, and no self-control.  

What does he want?

I don’t know.

Will he hurt me?

No.

How do you know?

He feels…protective.  I think…to him…you’ve almost taken the place of halmoni.

What about Oliver?

The more he fears, the stronger the other grows.

That’s not what I meant.

…I know.

***

One day, Oliver complained about being kept up all night by something growling at the foot of his bed. Another, he vomited up a softball sized clump of silky black curls.  One night, after a hard day of yelling at you, he ran out of the shower, raving about blood.  

When you looked, it was only water.  

Despite all of this, despite the darkening circles under his eyes, the muscle slowly wasting from his frame as he became too nervous to eat, the constant complaints of odd sounds, he grew no kinder.  

You would think that he would tend and befriend, that he would try to find solidarity with you–to bond with you, as a fellow living being, against the dark–but no, he didn’t.  If anything, his words grew even more acidic, his tongue dripping poison at every opportunity.  

You spent more and more time sleeping.  You felt safer with the dead man.

***

Leaning over, you brushed the hair out of his eyes, something that had become a habit.  As you lowered your hand from his face, he leaned into you, turning to place the softest kiss upon your palm.  You looked out over the verdant vista, the flourishing glen laid before you, as you perched on a soft patch of grass on the top of the mountain overlooking the valley.  “You always create the loveliest places.

I just think about how I feel about you, and this is what happens.  

You’re too kind.

You deserve some kindness.  I wasn’t able to save halmoni.  Please let me do these small things for you.  This is all I can do.  Please let me.

***

Oliver sat across from you as you tried to eat your juk with him glaring balefully at you.  

“Is it not to your taste? You query softly.

“You’re certainly enjoying it.  Don’t you think that you should lay off the rice?”

You set down your spoon.  

Seemingly satisfied that he had put you off of your feed, Oliver picked up his spoon, and skimmed off the top layer of his porridge.  His forehead creased, and he looked closer.  “Did you put berries in this?”

“No?”

He dug in his spoon deeper, and a small crimson eddy swirled to the top of the bowl–a shocking slash in the creamy white–as a familiar metallic scent filled the air.  “What the hell?!” he cursed, jumping up so forcefully that his chair shot backward and fell over.

You leaned over, and peered into his bowl.  “Blood,” you pronounced quietly.  

“What the hell?  What the actual hell?!” he yelled.  

You sat at the table, eyes down, sitting stock still lest he turn his ire on you.  You could see him fairly trembling with fury, out of the corner of your eye.  

“This…is…NOT…happening!” he rasped.  “Do you understand me?!”  He was yelling at the air.  “This is not happening!!” In a flash, he had taken the bowl, and hurled it across the room, to smash against the wall.  

The silence that fell thereafter was broken only by the soft -plump- -plump- of the juk sliding down the wall to fall in clumps on the floor.  

Oliver stalked off.  “I don’t have the luxury of dealing with this.  Some of us have to work, national holiday, or no!”  After a few moments, you heard the front door slam.  

You cleaned the mess, and took a nap.

***

I need to go on a diet.

He looked at you sharply, his gaze worried as he traveled over your figure.

Why?

I’m just…too much.

Putting a hand on your back, he slowly ran it down your spine.  I…can count the knobs of your spine, he said slowly.  How could you ever think that you need to lose weight?  If anything, you need to gain it.

You shook your head.  I have all of this spare flesh.  It’s unattractive.

He eyed the gap between your thighs, the hollows under your cheekbones, the delicate, birdlike bones of your wrists.  Oliver, was all he said.  

You opened your mouth to make a denial, but nothing emerged.

He wants you smaller, so that you’re easier to control.  You know that, right?

You were silent for a long time, as your eyes traveled over the waving golden grass of the plain.  I know it, but I also believe him.  That’s crazy, right?  I’m crazy.

That’s abuse.  That’s what it does to you. It messes with your head.  Makes you start to see whatever they tell you, even when you know that it’s false.  There’s nothing wrong with you.  There’s only something wrong with him.  He’s broken, and he’s using you to try to put himself back together.

I just…I just wanted to be loved…  What did I do so wrong?

He sighed, looking at you, sadness dulling his gaze.  I know…

You looked at him.  You do.  You do know.  You understand.

He nodded.

Tentatively, you shuffled closer to him.  Is this okay?

I trust you.

Slowly, eyes steadily on his, you drew even closer.  Slowly, giving him ample time to stop you, you climbed into his lap, curling yourself up against his warm, broad chest.  I’m sorry…I just need–

His arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you closer, running his fingers through your hair, and nuzzling your head against his neck.  If only I could do more.  I wish I could do more…I wish–

***

The slamming of the front door awoke you with a jolt.  Your heart pounded so hard that you could feel each expansion and contraction, feel the blood rushing through your veins.  There was no longer any light coming through the windows.  You had slept away the entire day.  

You saw his shadow before you saw him. Slowly it grew, spreading like oil, an all-encompassing black, until you saw his feet at the door.  You sat up, but kept your head down.  “Oliver.”

“Have you really been sleeping all day?  Have you done nothing productive?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t put food on the table, does it?”

“I’ll make you dinner now.”

“‘I’ll make you di’–unbelievable!  I work all day, and come back to discover that you’ve just been lounging about.  You can’t even be bothered to cook, even though you’ve obviously been doing nothing!  You can’t possibly be that exhausted!  You don’t do anything but teach brats English a few hours a day!”

“I’m sorry.”

“’I’m sorry; I’m sorry!’  You certainly are!  Useless trash!  Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have me–because, guess what, honey–no one else could stand to put up with your sorry behaviour!”

You were silent.  Nothing that you could say would cool his temper when he was like this.  

“What, no witty comeback?  No clever excuse? Or are you too stupid to even defend yourself?  Do you even have any idea how easy you have it?  How many women out there would give their eyeteeth for a guy like me?  And yet, here I am, stuck with you, because I’m just too loyal.”  He snorted.  “Jokes on me, I guess.  Worthless–”  

He lifted his hand to push his hair back from his face but, misunderstanding, you flinched.  Unfortunately, that only seemed to spur him.

“Oh, so you’re flinching now?  Like I’m some sort of abuser?  Poor little girl, poor little victim!  Yeah, you love to play that role.  I’m just the big bad boyfriend who doesn’t treat you, right, huh?  Is that what you tell everybody?!”  

His voice was rising and, risking a glance up, you saw that his face was dark red, the veins sticking out of his neck, and forehead.  A tear slipped down your cheek.

“Oh, you wanna cry now?! I’ll give you something to cry about!”  He lunged for you, grabbing you by the hair, and dragging you out of bed.  

Crying out in pain, you brought your hands to his wrist, pulling, trying to relieve some of the pressure on your scalp.  

He growled, and wrenched your head back and forth, tossing you about like a rag doll.  

Your scalp was on fire, and you could feel dull pain blooming up and down your flailing legs as they hit the doorway, as he dragged you out of your room.  As soon as you cleared the room, you heard it.

Oliver stopped.  He must have heard it, too.  A deep, rolling, impossibly all-encompassing growl, as if an invisible beast half the size of the room were issuing a threat.  He dropped you, and slowly backed toward the front door.  The growling followed him, growing even lower, and more aggressively.  Turning tail, Oliver ran for the door, opening it, and slamming it behind him, just as the sound of something very large, and very solid hit it.  

You could hear scrabbling, as if claws sought to tear through the door, and you could see the door shaking from the onslaught.  Terrified, you put your hands over your ears.  “Stop it!” you rasped, your voice as hoarse as if you had been screaming.  

Silence.  

A chill shivered down your arm and shoulder, as something brushed against you as it passed.  Then…nothing.  

***

A dark figure was sitting at the foot of your bed, when you awoke, the room still dark.  Coming awake all at once, you shot up in bed, pulling away, when–

“It’s alright.  It’s me.”

Your heart dropped. Oliver.  

He slid closer, until he was right beside you.  “Baby…baby…I’m so sorry.” Bowing his head, he began to sob.  “I’m sorry!  I’m so, so sorry! Please…forgive me.  You have to forgive me!  I just…love you so much…” Coming even closer, he collapsed against you, crying so hard that he was hyperventilating.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hand up and down his back, rocking him, and crooning.  

“It’s just…I’m so stressed, you know?  The move, and this job, and everything is different…  It just makes me crazy!  And then, look what I do!?  I take it out on you! The one I love most in the world.  What’s wrong with me?!”  He began to hit himself, beating his own face with the heels of his hands.  “Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!”

“Shhh!  Stop-stop-stop!” you murmured.  “Don’t hurt yourself…”

“I just feel like, I love you so much, and you don’t even know!  Like you have no idea how much I need you!  You’re my rock, baby!  I can’t do anything without you!  You know that, right?  You know how much I love you, right?”

Quickly, you nodded.  “I know.  I know that you just want me to be better.”

Pulling away just far enough, he leaned his forehead against yours.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Oliver reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a yellow strip of paper with red symbols painted onto it.  “I got a talisman.  I’ll find a way to stop this, okay?  I’ll take care of you.  Haven’t I always taken care of you?”

You nodded quickly.  “Of course, Oliver.  You’re always taking care of me.  I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Satisfaction crossed his face.  “It’s us against the world, right?  Just you and me, baby.  I’ll protect you.  I’ll make this right, you’ll see.”

He wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck, placing kisses at the soft fluttering pulse at the base of your throat.  “I’ll get us out of this.  I’ll figure out how to make this stop. Don’t worry.  Nothing will ever take me away from you.”

You shivered.

***

He’ll do it again.

I know.

It never ends.

I know.

He won’t stop until you’re dead.

You stared, blank-eyed, into the distance…

…I know.

***

Despite his sweet words, Oliver didn’t change.  He never did.  He started out gently enough, and for a few weeks, you could almost be fooled into thinking that he had gone back to the Oliver that you had fallen in love with–the Oliver that had convinced you to throw away everything, and follow him.

And, as he was gentle, so the haunting seemed to cease.  You still dreamed of the tall boy with the sad brown eyes, but you two didn’t talk of the outside world.  Instead, he told you of his life, of his dreams, and hopes, and aspirations.  You learned that he had wanted to be a musician, that he could play several instruments, and that his baritone voice was husky, and sweet.  

In turn, you told him of your life, before Oliver.  You told him of your first love, of your favourite things, of your childhood.  

You were bonding with the dead boy, and maybe, in a way, Oliver sensed that.  Sensed you drawing further from him, out of his reach, out of his influence.  He kept such a tight leash on you that there was no question that you were cheating, but something was taking you away from him, and he didn’t like that.  

He soon slowly fell back into his old ways.  It started with backhanded compliments, and then moved onto passive aggressive comments.  Soon, you couldn’t do anything right by yourself–he had to okay all of your decisions.  

“It’s just because you’re such a silly little goose!  What would you do without me, hm?  You just have to sit still and wait for me.  I’ll take care of you.  I’ll take care of it all!”

Even these subtle barbs soon escalated, until he was just as mercurial as ever.  You never knew who you were going to get.  The sweet Oliver, who called you baby, and told you that you were his rock, or the real Oliver, who told you that you couldn’t do anything right, and stared through you as if you were worthless, if you were lucky.  If you weren’t…

As Oliver backslid into his old ways, so the haunting began again.  Only this time, it didn’t start off as gently.

Oliver woke up with bruises all over his body, in the shape of fingerprints. Another day, it was scratches that looked as if he had been clawed all over his back, chest, and arms.  He complained of being pinched, and kicked throughout the day.  Meanwhile, you experienced none of these things.

His resentment grew.

***

Can you make him stop?

Oliver?

The other.

Why?

I think that Oliver is trying to find a shaman to get rid of both of you.  He’s scared of the haunting, but he also senses you, senses my feelings–

Feelings?

You were silent.  Nothing.  Can you make him stop?

His eyes were sad.  I can’t.  I can feel what he feels, but that’s all.  I have no control over him.  Besides, even if I could, I wouldn’t.  He’s the only way that I can keep you safe.  

You shook your head.  I don’t care about that.  I care about you.  I don’t want you to…

He looked at you for a long time.  I don’t care about that.  I care about you.

***

You came home from work one day, to find an old man in brightly coloured hanbok, holding bells as well as some more…esoteric items, wandering around the house.  “Oliver!”

Oliver popped out from the kitchen. “Ah, you’re back!  Welcome home, baby!”  He came forward to slide his arm around your shoulders, and place a gentle kiss on your temple.  

The stranger glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.  He looked unconvinced.  

“I’ve invited Baksu Choi to investigate the house, see if there’s anything that he can do.”

“Oh, yes…” you murmured.  

“There is an extremely strong energy, here, “ Baksu Choi intoned.  “A very dark spirit.  It seems to be centered around…you.”  He turned to you, his eyes like gimlets.  “Have you had any unusual experiences, lately?”

“Well…I’ve witnessed…some of the things that go on around the house…”

“Such as?”

You listed all of the phenomena that you had seen Oliver undergo.

“But you, ahgasshi…you’ve personally experienced…nothing?”  His face was expressionless, but his eyes were knowing.  

Shaking your head, you kept your face carefully blank.  You had become particularly good at that.  “No, sir.”

He looked from Oliver to you.  “Interesting.  Well, I’ve ascertained enough information to begin my investigation.  I’ll have to commune with the spirits, but I’ll contact you, later.”

“That will be fine,” Oliver said, nodding decisively.  “Thank you for taking the time to come to our home.”  He squeezed your shoulder.

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”

Baksu Choi’s eyes moved from Oliver to you.  “Indeed,” he murmured.  “I’ll see myself out.”

Once he had left, you turned to Oliver.  “I wanted to get home before it got dark, so that you wouldn’t worry, but I still have to go pick up groceries for dinner.  Is that okay?”

He nodded carelessly.  

“What do you want?”

“Anything is fine.”

“I’m just going to walk to the corner grocer’s–I shouldn’t be too long.”

He waved a hand indifferently behind himself, as he walked into his study.

You were had been walking for a few blocks, when you heard, “Yah! Ahgasshi!”  Turning, you saw the shaman leaning against the wall of a building, smoking a cigarette, his hanbok tucked up into his jeans, the sandals that he had been wearing earlier, traded for sneakers.

“Baksu Choi.”

He waved you over, taking a deep drag of the cigarette as you approached.  

You looked him up and down, but kept your expression neutral.  “Yes, sir?”

“I know what you’re thinking.  Mystical shaman in jeans, smoking a cigarette, right?”

You said nothing.

“I think…you know that appearances are not always what they seem, eh? That sometimes, we put up a facade to convince people that things are different from how they really are?  To make them see…what they want to see?”

Silence.

“You don’t have to say anything.  I wear these trappings, and carry mystical tools because that’s what convinces people that I’m legitimate.  But what I need,” he gestured to his temple, then to his heart, “doesn’t come from any arcane spirits.  It’s all up here, and all in here.  Tell me, aegiyah…when did he start beating you?”

You gave him a polite smile.  “I don’t know what you mean, sir.  And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to pick up something for dinner.”  Turning, you started to walk away.

“He told you he loved you early, gave you constant affection and attention–showed up unannounced saying that it was a surprise, and that he just couldn’t keep away, that he wanted to spend every spare moment with you.  He was always quick with compliments, and began making small suggestions about what you should wear, or how you should do your hair, and at first you were flattered, because you thought that meant that he was paying attention, that he really cared.  He insisted that you were soulmates, that you two were a unit, solid and unbreakable, against the world.  He was prone to jealousy, but said that it was only because other men weren’t worthy of you, that he was trying to protect you.”  Baksu Choi had walked around you during this speech, coming to stand before you, so that he could watch your face as he spoke.  

“He convinced you to uproot your entire life, and come here, so that you could create a new life together.  When he beats you, or berates you, it’s for your own good, so that you can be better, so that you can be everything that he knows you can be.  Whenever you decide that you’ve had enough, that you can’t take anymore, he breaks down and tells you how much he needs you, how sorry he is, that he’ll never do it again.  He gives you just enough love to keep you with him, even though you know that this can only end one way.”  He walked closer, until you could smell the fresh smoke on his breath.  It wasn’t unpleasant.  

You looked at him wordlessly, blinking rapidly to keep your eyes from filling with tears, mouth trembling with the effort to hold it firm.  “He…he has never said that he won’t do it again,”  you looked off into the distance, setting your jaw, then looked down, “because he and I both know that he will.”

“Ehhh,” he breathed, nodding.  Taking a step back, he said, “Your house isn’t haunted, ahgasshi.”

“You are.”

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