#even if the person executed actually is suffering profoundly
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Honestly what you said about corporal punishment made me wonder about amputation in, say, Saudi Arabia. Like, do they put comparable amounts of administrative thought into what ultimately resembles, in effect, Michael Madsen sawing a captive's ear off with a razor?
I don't know about Saudi Arabia, but I do seem to recall that if a victim or a victim's family chooses the lex talionis option in Iran, medical professionals get dragged into amputating the limb (or even in one case, extracting the eye). It's merciful in a way--obviously if you're going to cut off someone's limb, doing it in sterile conditions under anaesthetic is better than not--but it also feels like a parody of medicine, dragooning doctors into explicitly causing someone distress that is supposed to last for the rest of their lives.
The psychology of executioners and torturers is complex--people will, at the end of the day, find a rationale that lets them exist within the system they work in and also sleep at night, if they can--but needless to say, I think it is very rarely good for someone or their worldview to have to normalize inflicting a high degree of suffering for its own sake as acceptable in any context.
#the american medical association forbids its members from participating in executions at least#but american bloodlust means that even if doctors won't help#prison officials will engage in a similar parody of medicine#to try to come up with pseudomedical ways of executing people#that still allow them to reassure themselves they are doing so in a civilized way#even if the person executed actually is suffering profoundly#like i think at a certain point you have to admit#that capital punishment is just inherently cruel and fucked up#and has no place in modern society
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you know, i feel like general filipino audiences mischaracterize elibarra like. a lot. the thing is, i can see elibarra work in theory — these two seem like they're incredibly smitten with each other. but the thing about elias and ibarra is that, for me, they're admiration for each other comes of as shallow. surface-level.
(i'm gonna cite my interpretations of the book so bear with me here since last time i read it was december 2021. also this essay may be rambly and all over the place bc i wrote this at 3am lol)
elias was, i think, the first to be smitten. he valued ibarra because he believed he had the mindset and the power to execute change. that's why he helped him, and that's why he was incredibly shocked by ibarra's beliefs during the boat ride. and i need to emphasize this: that boat ride is so incredibly romanticized by media that it completely misinterprets the scene. if you actually read the damn thing, it showcases ibarra's true colors: he views filipino society as savages that need disciplining from the gwardiya sibil. to me, he's meant to juxtapose elias. while elias understands the struggle of the filipino (aided by the fact that he mentioned during the chase that he internalizes the misfortunes of the native land), ibarra is divorced from it. to my understanding, he is the antithesis of a model filipino: personal, vengeful, and close-minded.
and this is where general depictions of elibarra breaks for me. they are meant to be opposites. this is even supported with el fili's main point wherein padre florentino mentions that to be with your people is to "endure/suffer and work". elias has suffered, has understood the struggle of the filipino, but ibarra closes his mind to it. he wanted to do good only because he saw the filipino in his parents, but nothing else. even when he was imprisoned, he sought violent, personal revenge for HIMSELF.
and just. further insight; let's go to the infamous "then why do you advise me to go away?" line. elias and ibarra, for the first time in the book, receive a paradigm shift. a complete change in mindset and outlook. elias is sullen, pessimistic. does not believe in the chance of his survival because he was broken when he learned that ibarra's grandfather ruined his life. still, he chooses to suffer alongside the filipino. and fucking ibarra still does not internalize it. he goes on a ramble about seeking violent revenge, and even when elias says he'll hurt innocents, ibarra does not care. like, again, there's hardly anything profoundly romantic about this scene. they are self-destructing. elias lost hope in the filipino, ibarra chooses to fulfill personal desires.
BUT, and this is a BIG BUT, elibarra works in tragic ways, i think. because elias aids ibarra's survival in the end. he lets ibarra free not because he thinks he can help the nation, but because he believes he has the chance to be happy, unlike elias. and ibarra, even if he had differing opinions with elias at the first boat scene, was willing to learn elias' perspective. there is some worth in elibarra, but i think a few things need to be addessed.
one thing is; elibarra cannot work if their relationship was similar to how it was near the end of noli. there is a level of self-destruction there that i just absolutely do not think should be romanticized. the "why do you push me away" line is a whiny comment from ibarra showing how he still cannot understand ibarra's struggle. elias helping ibarra live was not because he loved ibarra to pieces, but because he prioritized the chance for personal happiness to exist. and this is is sorta difficult to explain, but to indulge oneself in individual happiness in this context is to sacrifice the chance to empathize with the nation. he fucking sacrifices his hope for the philippines in exchange for ibarra to continue thriving someplace else. so yeah, we need to stop believing that their relationship by the end was butterflies and rainbows because they were absolutely self-destructing.
second thing; even if ibarra is a privileged asshole who got most things wrong by the end, i also don't want to hold him to it, because his vengefulness ruined his life. his ignorance towards the filipino struggle still ruined his life. he is tragic as much as he is complacent. in better situations, let's say au's where they're happier and alive, i think a way to make ibarra's character free and more developed is if he actually found a way to open his mind to the filipino struggle. to get off his european high horse. not only would it be incredibly beneficial for him, but it would make his relationship with elias much more healthier. the thing is, elias how he is pre-chase scene was FINE. he has incredibly profound ideologies about the state of society which i think still we should uphold today. ibarra is the rich, spoiled, tragic brat who needs that sense of change.
the reason i emphasize their ideologies is because these two are founded upon them. these are their CHARACTERS. if ibarra still remains as close-minded as he is, it literally goes against not only elias' beliefs but his fucking existence. ibarra's beliefs are just a red flag period, incredibly classist and racist, and again, their relationship can only work if ibarra wakes the fuck up.
and yeah tldr; if you like elibarra and would like to portray them in other settings, it's important to not romanticize the boat scenes entirely because holy shit their relationship does not work. but it CAN work if ibarra can open his mind to better ideologies, which i think could happen in canon if he wasn't stuck in a miserable situation. but, if you wanna interpret elibarra by the book only, please be careful which parts you romanticize because a lot of it ignores the fact that ibarra exposes he has problematic ideologies + ignores the fact that elias and ibarra were at their lowest by the chase scene.
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Sneering at "sickly sentimentality": John Hooker Packard's advocacy for gas chambers
Going a complete different direction from my last post, I'm focusing on John Hooker Packard, my ancestor, herein called Dr. Packard, as today is the World Day Against the Death Penalty. As a warning, this article goes down a dark road, discussing death, suicide, and injury. Dr. Packard was more than a person who had a "large practice as a physician" and died from heart disease at the Hotel Chalfont, Atlantic City at age 75 in May 22, 1907, as noted in an obituary in the Philadelphia Inquirer at the time. He was well-known for his medical practice, as was his son Frederick. He was even described in the 1920 A Cyclopedia of American Medical Biography [1]:
"He was also one of the original members of the American Surgical Association…In 1886, in a paper read before the Medico-Legal Society of New York, he suggested the use of a lethal chamber for the infliction of the death penalty, death to be caused by the abstraction of oxygen from the atmosphere and the introduction of carbonic acid gas. Dr. Packard was a profoundly religious man, an Episcopalian…his belief was a vital part of his existence and colored all the important actions of his life. He had very considerable artistic ability and much of his work was illustrated with his own pencil…His culture, geniality and sense of humor endeared him to many, both contemporaries and also many of a younger generation, with all he maintained a pleasant social intercourse."
When reading that, I looked more into the anecdote about the use of a lethal chamber for the death penalty within this biography. While some repeated it without giving any more details, others excluded it entirely from their biographies. This is despite the fact that some even declare he was one of the "most prominent surgeons" of the latter 9th century and a "pioneer of modern American surgery". [2] In contrast to Volume 2 of University of Pennsylvania: Its History, Influence, Equipment and Characteristics; with Biographical Sketches and Portraits of Founders, Benefactors, Officers and Alumni stated he was president of Medico-Legal Society of New York.
At first, it did not seem that this page survived, as it is not within the National Library of Medicine, but after digging a little, I found the paper, which is entitled "The Mode for Inflicting the Death Penalty" and it was actually read before the society on April 1, 1878 not in 1886 as the biography had stated. At first he gives a background and talks about the "humanitarian side" of the equation, noted that many human societies have murderers of people killed. He pushes back against those who view law and order as "oppressive shackles" and claims that the death penalty is calm and dispassionate, not a "physical terror". He does say that executions are public, even if they are claimed to be private, and suggests that instead of other forms of execution (he cites lynching of a Black man as an example, something which he doesn't seem to approve of), people are, instead put in an airtight room and killed by carbonic oxide. He defends this method of killing as painless and not causing suffering. He then sneers at those opposed to such capital punishment, writing:
"Between the sickly sentimentality which wold spare merciless murderers and the brutal ferocity which would exult over their dying agonies, there seems to be a just and wise medium, where the law can take its stand…and yet inflicting no needless torture on the unhappy criminal"
If I understand this correctly, Dr. Packard is saying that death by carbonic oxide does not cause needless suffering and that the form of death he is proposing is more humane. These deaths would also be private.
Carbonic oxide is another name for carbon monoxide (CO). During the Texas power crisis last year, people were poisoned by turning on cars in garages, bringing grills into houses, etc. in an attempt to stay warm. Are those deaths humane? The Consumer Product Safety Commission describes CO as a "deadly, colorless, odorless, poisonous gas"which is undetectable to human sense, and notes that initial symptoms of low to moderate CO poisoning are similar to the flu but without the fever, such as headaches, fatigue, shortness of breath, nausea, and dizziness. What Dr. Packard is talking about falls more into the higher level of CO poisoning which has more severe symptoms, like mental confusion, vomiting, loss of muscular coordination, loss of consciousness, and untimely death. The page goes onto say that those with higher level exposures to CO can "rapidly become mentally confused...[and] lose muscle control without having first experienced milder symptoms". This is echoed by New Health Advisor which states that those who attempt to kill themselves by poisoning themselves with CO suffer a lot, causing their head to get clouded, vomiting and fainting, and are likely to fail.
CO can come from exhaust of internal combustion engines or combustion of various other fuels like wood, coal, charcoal, trash, and so on. It is even more problematic that Dr. Packard is supporting this considering that the Nazis used CO for genocide during the Holocaust, either with gas vans, in so-called euthanasia programs, or in infamous gas chambers. Specifically, it was used to murder over 700,000 people, as gas was fed into tubes at medical hospitals and concentration camps, using exhaust fumes from engines of tanks and other CO. [3] He wants there to be gas chambers to kill murderers. Others who support CO as a way to execute people include an aide of the notorious Jack Kevorkian who claimed it is "extremely painless" and replace lethal injections. It is much more painful than many think it is and is not environmentally friendly, even though it may be a quick death. [4]
Lethal gas chamber at San Quentin State Prison in 1938. Luckily, it is no longer operational.
At the time that Dr. Packard presented that article, there had been the extermination of stray dogs by a CO gas chamber a few years before (he references it in the article) in 1874. It would be followed, in 1884, by a carbon monoxide gas chamber in a slaughterhouse as described in Scientific American. There have been, more recently, CO gas chambers used to kill prisoners at San Quentin State Prison in California, [5] and only closed after public pressure. Currently, the last person to die in the U.S. with a gas chamber was Walter LaGrand, who the state of Arizona executed in 1999. Gas chambers have been rarely used since 1976 for executions.
If Dr. Packard wrote a similar article today, it would likely receive much more criticism. A September 2021 poll said that 54% of U.S. adults favor the death penalty, a five decade low. Additionally, of the over 8,700 executions between 1890 and 2010 carried out by gas chamber, 5.4% were botched, making the "gas chamber the second most unreliable execution method...used in that period". [6] It was, as I noted earlier, prominently used by General Rochambeau against Haitians during the Haitian Revolution, the Nazis, and the U.S., [7] It involves use of CO or hydrogen cyanide.
More recently, in the 18th and 19th century, scientists "suggested a therapeutic application of CO" and it is even seen as a "viable pharmaceutical candidate". Hopefully, Dr. Packard would not be seen as a person of "culture, geniality and sense of humor" for favoring gas chambers, said to be one of the cruelest methods of death, since a majority of Americans believe that life imprisonment with no possibility of parole is a "better punishment for murder than the death penalty is."
Notes
[1] Howard Atwood Kelly, A Cyclopedia of American Medical Biography: Comprising the Lives of Eminent Deceased Physicians and Surgeons from 1610 to 1910, Vol. 1 (W.B. Saunders Company, 1920), pp. 873-874. His son, Frederick is described on pages 872-873 in a biography by Francis R. Packard. The latter also wrote his biography. Francis is Dr. Packard's son.
[2] See page lviii of the Transactions of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia. In contrast, the Encyclopedia of Civil War Biography which has a biography on him, Charles Packard (Lancaster, Massachusetts, Massachusetts Abolition Society, Manager, 1842-44), Alpheus Spring Packard, Jasper Packard, and Theodore Packard (Shelburn, Massachusetts, Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society, Vice-President, 1836-40), does not mention this. The last sentence is quoting from the biography of him on the American Civil War Medicine & Surgical Antiques website.
[3] This is said to be stated on page 323 of A History of Modern Germany 1800 - 2000. More specifically it is described in horrifying detail on page 156 of Dictionary of Genocide [2 volumes] by Paul R. Bartrop and Samuel Totten.
[4] "Jack Kevorkian's Aide Pushed Carbon Monoxide for Executions," NBC News, Jun. 2, 2014. Also see "Why not use carbon monoxide for executions?" (Quora), "Why do states not use carbon monoxide for legal executions?" (Quora), "Is carbon monoxide poisoning the fastest and least painful way to die?" (Quora), "Why is carbon monoxide poisoning the easiest and least painful way to die?" (Quora), "What is it like to get carbon monoxide poisoning?" (Quora), "Why do people not know they are being poisoned by carbon monoxide? What would it feel like? Surely they notice they start to feel different?" (Quora), "Why Don't We Use Carbon Monoxide for Capital Punishment?" (Reddit), "Recommendation: A Death Penalty with a Carbon Monoxide Gas Chamber".
[5] The prison's official site says "The state’s only gas chamber and death row for all male condemned inmates are located at San Quentin."
[6] Austin Sarat, "Arizona’s Horrifying Plan to Bring Back the Gas Chamber." Slate, Jun. 4, 2021. Also see "Firing Squad to Gas Chamber: How Long Do Executions Take?" in NBC News, "Gas chamber 'ready' for Thanos execution but prison officials say little else" in Baltimore Sun, The Last Gasp: The rise and fall of the American gas chamber, and Gruesome Spectacles: Botched Executions and America's Death Penalty.
[7] It was also claimed to be used in Lithuania (before Soviet occupation in 1940), North Korea, and the Soviet Union. However, for North Korea, claims are reliant on defectors and claimed genuine documents, while for the Soviet Union it relies upon somewhat questionable Russian sources.
Note: This was originally posted on Oct. 10, 2022 on the main Packed with Packards WordPress blog (it can also be found on the Wayback Machine here). My research is still ongoing, so some conclusions in this piece may change in the future.
© 2022 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.
#john hooker packard#packards#gas chambers#genealogy#lineage#family history#death penalty#capital punishment#ancestry#atlantic city#19th century#carbon monoxide
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All I Want For Christmas is You
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader
Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...
Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut
Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers
Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi
Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •
Acknowledgements:
To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.
To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.
To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.
To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.
Please Picture This Taehyung:
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”
“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”
Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.
“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”
The man in question shifted uncomfortably.
“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”
“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”
Taehyung’s jaw dropped.
“You RECORDED IT?!”
Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”
“He did WHAT?!”
Your mother winced.
“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”
“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”
Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.
“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”
Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.
“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”
The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.
“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.
“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”
Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.
You would play along with their humiliating schemes.
For now.
“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?
For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.
“Kim Taehyung.”
You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.
“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”
The man in question could barely restrain his grin.
“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”
“I could pay you more.”
“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”
“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”
If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.
“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”
“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”
Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.
“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”
Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.
“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”
“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”
The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.
However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.
Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.
Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.
In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).
Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.
The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.
“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.
He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.
“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”
Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.
He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.
That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.
In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.
But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.
A woman.
Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.
Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.
Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.
Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.
His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.
“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”
And just like that the brat was back.
Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.
“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.
Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.
“Of course not,” he chuckled.
The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.
Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.
You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.
“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”
“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.
“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”
“Harkins?”
“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”
Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.
“Okay... What about Kang?”
“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”
“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”
“She was about to grab your ass.”
Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.
“She’s eighty-five!”
“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”
“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.
“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”
Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.
“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.
You shrugged.
“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”
“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”
The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.
Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.
“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”
“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”
“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”
Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.
“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”
“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”
A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.
“I can think of several women who might disagree.”
He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-
“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”
“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.
“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”
It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.
It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.
The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.
“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.
“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”
Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.
It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.
“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”
Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.
Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.
An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.
“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.
Jungkook picked up on the second ring.
“Sir?”
“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”
“You want me to what?!”
“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.
Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.
1 New Message from: Jungkook
Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?
Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.
You picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”
“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”
“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”
“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”
The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.
“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”
He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.
“Are you alone?”
You snorted.
“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”
Taehyung saw red.
“I’m coming over.”
There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.
“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”
“With who?!”
“With myself, you idiot!”
“Prove it!”
“Fine! I will!”
The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.
1 New Message from: Park Gremlin
He almost choked on his tongue.
You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.
At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…
A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.
You were exquisite.
A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.
Desire.
Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.
1 New Message from: Kim Grinch
I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.
Your head tilted in confusion.
There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-
Oh NO.
You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.
… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.
Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.
“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”
Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.
“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”
“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”
“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.
“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”
Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.
PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA
WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS
NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION
“The Park Angel?”
“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.
“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”
As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.
“This is a flaming disaster.”
“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”
“Which one was that?!”
“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”
Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.
“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”
“She has. Twice.”
“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”
“No.”
“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”
“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”
After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.
By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).
You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.
Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.
Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.
Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.
“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”
Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.
Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-
He peeked again.
I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.
“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.
The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.
You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.
The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.
For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...
Taehyung was laughing.
You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.
But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.
Something that felt an awful lot like longing.
“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.
Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...
Almost.
“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”
Disaster struck at dinner.
Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.
The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—
Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.
Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.
“I-I need—”
It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.
“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.
“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.
“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”
“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.
At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.
You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.
“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”
Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.
“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”
The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.
“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”
You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.
“Why won’t this—”
His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”
You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.
There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).
“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”
He blinked. Twice.
“I’m sorry—What did you just—”
“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”
He gulped.
His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.
This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—
Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.
(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.
You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.
Oh.
His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.
Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.
“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”
Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.
You were so warm.
So soft...
“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”
His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.
“Hold on to me.”
You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.
If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.
You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.
Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...
“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.
He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.
“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”
You drew in a final steadying breath.
“Do it.”
He nodded.
“One… Two… Three—”
Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.
Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.
The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.
And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.
It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—
“... Is… everything alright here?”
You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.
Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.
He gulped again.
“I can explain.”
It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.
Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.
Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.
Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.
Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.
His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.
Just like you.
He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.
Lies.
… and pitifully transparent ones at that.
Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.
The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.
1 New Message from: Park Gremlin
I made it home safely.
Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.
To: Park Gremlin
I require proof… like last time.
He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.
You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.
And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-
The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.
His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-
And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.
At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…
same mirror.
Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.
The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.
He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.
“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”
Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.
1 New Message from: Kim Grinch
Green is my favorite color.
“WHERE IS HE—”
Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.
Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.
“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”
Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.
“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”
Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.
“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”
Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.
KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL
FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION
NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE
PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE
He winced a bit at that last one.
“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.
“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”
“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.
Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.
“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”
Taehyung sighed heavily.
“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”
“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”
“WHAT?!”
“NO! Mother! Oh my—”
“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”
Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.
“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”
Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.
“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”
“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.
He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.
Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.
You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).
Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.
Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.
Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.
“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.
Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.
“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.
“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”
The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.
For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.
Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.
Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.
It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…
“I never thought I’d see you here.”
A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.
“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”
The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.
“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”
“I avoided them.”
I avoided you.
Milo nodded.
“I—I figured.”
He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.
“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”
“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”
“Excuse me.”
You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.
“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”
You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.
“No—please if you just give me a minute—”
“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
Milo’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”
Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.
“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”
Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.
“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.
After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.
“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”
Taehyung laughed.
“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”
You grinned.
“I’d forgotten about that.”
“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”
(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)
“I wish I could forget about Milo.”
“... Are you still in love with him?”
The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”
Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.
“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”
you.
You cleared your throat.
“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”
Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.
“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”
Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.
“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”
Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.
“I should kill him.”
You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.
“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”
“He has good instincts.”
“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”
“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”
It would be so easy to care for you.
“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”
You nodded.
“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”
The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.
“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”
“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”
“... Like you?”
The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.
Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-
“What’s going on, guys?”
You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.
Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.
“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”
Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.
“Where is he?”
“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”
The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.
The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.
Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.
His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...
“You look like a vampire.”
Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.
You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.
If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.
Still…
Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.
“I think I’m offended.”
“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”
Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.
“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”
You shrugged playfully.
“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”
A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...
This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.
Lord have mercy.
“Of course not,” he coughed.
“You’re what?!”
You rolled your eyes.
Tonight had been going rather well.
The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...
Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.
“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”
“Does your brother know about this?!”
“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.
“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”
“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”
You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.
“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”
“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”
Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.
“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”
Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”
“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”
His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”
“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”
Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.
“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”
Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.
After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.
Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.
Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)
Then it was your turn.
“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”
“Ten thousand.”
Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.
Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.
“Eleven thousand.”
“Twelve thousand.”
“Fifteen.”
“Sixteen thousand dollars.”
“Seventeen thousand.”
“Eighteen.”
Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.
“Twenty thousand.”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“Thirty thousand!”
At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.
Milo.
Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.
“Forty thousand.”
Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.
You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.
No.
Milo was still bidding.
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Not her.
“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.
She’s mine.
Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.
“One hundred thousand dollars!”
The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.
Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.
The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.
And hope.
Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.
His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.
You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—
Yet you never dared hope for it.
However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.
For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.
Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…
But he didn’t need to buy your heart.
It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.
He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.
The next move was yours and you intended to make it.
“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.
Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”
“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“Do you want to see?”
Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.
You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—
Then he nodded...
And you both were lost.
Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.
Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.
“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.
He bit back a moan.
“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
You nodded.
“Kiss it better.”
Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.
This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.
He knew he shouldn’t—
but he could never deny you.
“Of course.”
You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.
It was for you.
He wanted you.
Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.
Touch me… please.
Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.
Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.
“Taehyung—“ you moaned.
Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.
Sweet merciful heavens.
Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.
You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.
The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.
“T-Tae—”
Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—
He was marking you.
And you wanted it.
Oh how you wanted it.
Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.
“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.
You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.
“Speak up.”
“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”
“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”
Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—
“Madame. We’ve arrived.”
The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.
Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.
Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.
Did we just...
You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.
1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈
I need to know you made it safely to your room.
You grinned.
Greedy boy.
Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.
1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅
Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.
Taehyung growled in frustration.
She would be a tease.
To: Angel 🤬🥵😅
I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.
He shook his head.
I have officially gone insane.
The phone buzzed again.
1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅
Well… We can’t have that can we…
Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.
Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.
The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.
He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.
To: Angel 🤬🥵😅
That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel
The screen lit up again almost immediately.
1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅
Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...
Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.
“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”
Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.
“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”
“I need to talk to him now.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”
Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.
“I know he’s up there.”
Jungkook grinned.
“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”
“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.
Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.
“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”
“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”
The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.
A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.
“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”
“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”
Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.
“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”
He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.
“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”
“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”
Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.
“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”
“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”
Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”
“Oh… Well.”
Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.
“He has to come down eventually.”
“One would think.”
The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.
"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"
Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.
“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”
“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”
Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.
“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”
Jimin stopped struggling.
“Oh?”
Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.
“He’s gone, sir.”
“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”
“However…”
“... However?”
“I had to give him your spa passes.”
“YOU DID WHAT?!”
“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”
Taehyung rolled his eyes.
“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”
“It’s complimentary, sir.”
The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.
Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?
“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”
Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.
“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.
Jungkook bit his lip.
“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”
The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.
Both men winced.
“I think that was your grandmother’s.”
Taehyung sighed.
“I admit there have been… some developments.”
Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.
“... Such as?”
Taehyung gulped.
“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”
“There may have been? Are you not sure?”
Taehyung colored guiltily.
“Well—”
“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”
“Absolutely not.”
Jungkook grinned.
“That’s what I thought.”
Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.
“Things have… escalated a bit.”
“Escalated how?”
I licked her tit in the back of a limo.
“Physically.”
It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.
“That’s… shocking.”
“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.
A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.
“So what are you going to do, sir?”
Taehyung was silent for a long moment.
“I honestly have no idea.”
Watching you walk toward him was an experience.
Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.
Your dress tonight was deadly.
It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.
Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.
Oh help.
Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.
So he didn’t say anything at all.
Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—
And you tolerated that for about three minutes.
“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”
The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.
Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.
“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”
“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”
Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.
She is definitely trying to kill me.
“Should I be worried?”
Now it was your turn to grin.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.
But it was well worth the price of admission.
Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.
It was like stepping into a fairytale.
Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.
You were breathtaking.
“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”
The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.
“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”
Your eyes widened.
“N-nephew?”
Taehyung shrugged.
“I don’t really talk about it much.”
The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.
“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”
“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”
“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”
You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.
The Governor just shook his head and laughed.
“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”
Everywhere you looked there was beauty.
Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.
All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...
Until she showed up.
“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”
Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.
“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”
“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”
Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.
Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.
“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”
Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.
“Yes. Of course. This is—”
“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”
“His date,” you deadpanned.
“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”
“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”
Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.
“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”
Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.
Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.
“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”
Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.
“Some other time perhaps.”
Aubrey pouted prettily.
“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”
Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.
“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”
“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”
“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.
“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.
“Aubrey... Listen I—”
She cut him off with a finger to his lips.
“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”
He grinned.
“Never.”
The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.
“What a shame.”
Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.
“You know what I don’t understand?”
You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.
“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”
The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.
Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.
“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”
Oh he’s good.
You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.
“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”
Yoongi sighed and shook his head.
“Couldn’t be me.”
You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.
Alas.
You tilted your head speculatively.
Surely there was no need to brush away good company...
After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.
“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”
Yoongi held out his hand.
“I’d be delighted.”
Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.
Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you
—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.
It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.
Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.
Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.
“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”
Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.
“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”
“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”
You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine
“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.
Oh boy.
Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).
You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.
This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.
You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.
Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.
You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.
Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.
“Are you alright?”
His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.
You glared.
“Just fine, thank you.”
A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.
On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”
You nodded sharply.
Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.
Yet you made no move to stop him.
You should have.
You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—
But you didn’t.
So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.
You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.
“T-Taehyung—”
“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).
“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.
You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.
However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head
“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”
Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.
You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.
Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.
“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”
Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.
Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.
It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.
“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.
At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.
“Ms. Park, are you well?”
Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.
“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”
“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”
Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.
Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.
There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.
“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.
Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).
When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—
just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.
Emotions were a funny thing.
They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…
And occasionally eroded your common sense.
Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.
His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.
His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.
His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.
It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.
Frustration—
I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!
Rage—
Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.
Jealousy—
You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.
But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.
You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.
He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...
But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.
Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.
Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.
And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—
Emotion became action.
“Mind if I cut in?”
It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.
“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”
“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”
Your mouth dropped open.
“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”
Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”
Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.
“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”
The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.
“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”
“I did!”
“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”
“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”
“But—”
“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”
“You didn’t come after me!”
“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”
“Really? Well what else did she grab?”
Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.
People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.
Well that’s great.
Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.
“What are you doing?”
“Continuing this discussion in private.”
“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.
“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”
Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.
The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.
After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.
You almost giggled when you got a look inside.
On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.
However—
The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.
Reflection suite indeed.
The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.
“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”
“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”
“Then why did you take us here?”
“Because you were shouting—”
“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”
Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.
He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.
But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.
He had to kiss you then.
You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.
The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.
Finally.
Everything was him.
Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.
“Taehyung—”
His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—
Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.
“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”
Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.
Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.
But not today.
The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.
“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.
“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.
“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”
He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.
It was so so good.
“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”
If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.
But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.
“Yes!” you sobbed.
The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.
Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.
“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”
His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.
“You’ve been saying that for years.”
“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.
Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.
“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.
“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.
Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.
“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”
His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.
“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”
The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.
After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.
“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.
Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”
The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.
“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.
“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”
You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.
“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.
You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.
“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”
Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.
You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.
Almost.
"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”
Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.
"Please—" you whispered.
"Please who?"
Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.
"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.
He grinned.
“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”
Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.
Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.
Underneath a giant mirror.
The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-
And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.
It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.
Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.
Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.
“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”
The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.
The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—
You shattered.
And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.
Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.
The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.
Then he was kissing you again.
It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.
You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.
Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.
“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.
You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.
He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.
It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.
“Of course,” you muttered.
The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.
“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”
“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”
“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.
After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.
“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.
You gasped against him and he smiled.
“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”
You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.
“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”
His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.
“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”
Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.
The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.
Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.
After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.
“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”
His praise was addictive.
You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.
It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.
Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—
Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.
Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.
“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.
The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.
“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”
You did.
You wanted it so so bad.
“Please.”
Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.
“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”
“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”
He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.
Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.
There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.
Then your world caught fire.
Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.
Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—
Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.
The feel of him was indescribable.
You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.
He was bloomin’ magnificent.
Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.
“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”
“Yes—”
Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.
He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.
You were his.
And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.
Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.
He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—
This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.
And now… he couldn’t look away.
The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.
Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.
“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”
Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.
“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.
“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.
The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.
Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.
Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.
He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.
“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”
Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.
“Tae! Ah-ahh!”
The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—
“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”
Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.
And then you flew apart.
Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.
“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”
“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.
“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”
“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.
“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.
Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.
“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”
The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.
“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.
His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.
"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”
The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.
He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.
“KIM TAEHYUNG!”
The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.
His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—
The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.
“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”
Then he frowned.
“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”
Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.
“Kendra.”
Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—
And insanely gorgeous.
Taehyung groaned.
Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.
To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.
KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.
One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.
“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”
“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”
“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”
“I’ll kill you.”
“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.
“Why should I wait?!”
“Because—”
“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”
“The situation is just not that simple.”
“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”
“Admittedly not my finest hour.”
“So you tell me right now—”
“But you don’t understand it’s—”
“—Why the hell would I wait?!”
“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”
For a moment there was absolute silence.
Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.
“Really?”
Jimin’s mouth fell open.
Taehyung groaned again.
“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”
You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.
“Are you really in love with me?”
“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.
“That’s not the same thing!”
“It is for me!”
A radiant smile lit up your face.
“I’m in love with you too.”
Taehyung’s expression softened.
“Angel I—”
Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.
“Oh! No no no—Come on!”
He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.
“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.
“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.
This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.
If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.
I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.
#bts#kim taehyung#Kim Taehyung smut#kim taehyung oneshot#Kim Taehyung x reader#kim taehyung scenarios#bts smut#ficswithluv#bts v#kwritersworldnet#bangtanarmynet#bangtanhq#networkbangtan#armysource#heartsforbts#btswriterscollective#bangtanidx#magicshopnet#bts fan fiction#kim taehyung fanfiction#bts Christmas
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I want to hear your fan-theories about Grindelwald’s surrender: Not about the fact itself, but about the context.
I keep thinking of the possibilities...
-He realizes how far he's gone: I don't think this will be the case. Sure, he feels the weight of his actions when he has time to reflect in prison, but with the Global Wizarding War he had the bodies piling and the streets running with blood. If he was shaken by how far he'd gone as early as 1945, he'd probably have realised it before the duel and surrendered without him and Dumbledore having to fight in the first place. Instead, the small account we have of the duel mentions thay "those who witnessed it have written of the terror and the awe they felt as they watched these two extraordinary wizards to battle."
-He surrenders because he doesn't want to kill Albus: This is not beyond the realm of possibility. That said, Albus mentions that they were equally matched and that he might have even been a bit more skillful than Gellert. Then again, Gellert had emotional laverege. Albus mentions in DH that he was afraid of learning (through Gellert) the truth of Ariana's death, because he always dreaded that it might have been his own spell that killed her, and that Gellert knew what scared him. Speaking of that time, Albus explains that 'he never knew' which of them had cast the fatal curse. The fact that he didn't know then doesn't mean that he didn't learn by the end of the duel. I DO believe that the matter of Ariana’s death will be brought up then and that’s when we’ll get the full picture of what happened, but I just don’t see Gellert weaponizing whatever knowledge he has, simply because it’s one of the few things that have scarred Albus so profoundly that I think he couldn’t bear adding more salt to the wound. Overall, I just don’t believe that Gellert will win and then decide to throw the match. I just see him losing. After all, if he had won he could still have kept Albus alive, even if they still wouldn’t have been together.
-He surrenders because he loses and doesn’t want to die: This would make little sense as a motive. He would have no guarrantee that he would be pardoned even if Albus promised that he’d try. Making a run for it or fighting until the very end would be more practical choices than the alternative options (dying or spending the rest of his life in a cell.
-He surrenders because he wants to save Albus from suffering further trauma: This is the option that speaks more to me. Let’s imagine a scenario in which Gellert knew that he was losing and put ourselves in that position. He has committed warcrimes, and there is no ‘insuffucient evidence’ loophole. Chances are that the confederation would sentence him to death. Even if he thought that he might simply be imprisoned, I think that it wouldn’t have appealed to him. If he was fighting anyone other than Albus, I genuinely think that it would make sense for his character to fight until the end for the sake of his pride or to make a run for it, in which case he’d at lease have a small chance at survival and freedom. At worst, his opponent would kill him, which wouldn’t be worse than an actual execution. But this is not the worst, because he;s fighting Albus. Albus who does not want to kill, Albus who was defined by his opposition to violence. Albus who has already spent one third of his life tortured by the mere possibility of being responsible for the death of a loved one. Albus whose beliefs about murder where made clear to us later, when he planned for Snape to kill him so that a young boy’s soul wouldn’t ‘be ripped apart on [his] account’, I think that Gellert will surrender because, despite having better options, he doesn’t want to put Albus in the position of having to kill him. He’d rather surrender and have the justice system eat him up instead of making the one person he loves damage their soul irreperably.
If he simply didn’t want to kill Albus, his decision would relate to love, but it’d also entail the ‘selfish’ aspect of choosing based on his own inability to live with such guilt; it would be with regard to his own soul. I prefer the idea of him surrendering for the sake of Albus’ own soul instead because this would mark his first entirely selfless act of love. Opening up to this feeling of selfleshness would also pave the way to the overall remorse he experiences later making more sense.
#gellert grindelwald#Albus Dumbledore#fantastic beasts#Harry Potter#grindeldore#grindeldore meta#fb meta
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(Image ID: screenshot of two replies by @alicedraws-kostyalevin. saying: Funnily enough eponine works for thenardier but doesn't actually sacrifice herself for him (or at least, not anymore) but gavroche almost dies for him, and he doesn't even recognize who it was. Absolutely brutal. Les mis has a thing? for people recognizing others and there must be some symbolism here that I never thought about.)
(Context: this post about he parallels between Eponine and Javert)
I never thought about it until just now either and you’ve made me realize--- Javert’s weird power in Les Mis is just, his ability to recognize people?
Javert has a borderline magical ability to know who everyone Really Is, to know everyone’s True Names, regardless of their disguises.
There’s a common fandom joke that Javert is bad at recognizing people, but in canon it’s the exact opposite. Javert’s whole Thing is that he sees through disguises and recognizes the people that no one else is able to recognize, the people that everyone else forgets and overlooks.
And instead of using that power for good he uses it for evil. Javert could use his borderline magical skills to help all these forgotten people, but instead he uses it to condemn them and make them all suffer.
Javert even arrogantly shows off this semi-magical skill during the Gorbeau House ambush. All the members of the gang are masked; Javert orders them to keep their masks on, and then lists off their names one by one, to prove that he knows who they are even when they’re disguised.
“Why?” for the drama of it all
The six pinioned ruffians were standing, and still preserved their spectral mien; all three besmeared with black, all three masked.
“Keep on your masks,” said Javert.
And passing them in review with a glance of a Frederick II. at a Potsdam parade, he said to the three “chimney-builders”:—
“Good day, Bigrenaille! good day, Brujon! good day, Deuxmilliards!”
Then turning to the three masked men, he said to the man with the meat-axe:—
“Good day, Gueulemer!”
And to the man with the cudgel:—
“Good day, Babet!”
And to the ventriloquist:—
“Your health, Claquesous.”
God Javert is such a diva
And as mentioned on the other post: no one recognizes Eponine. Cosette sees adult Eponine and doesn’t recognize her/thinks she’s just a random boy, Marius doesn’t recognize Eponine even after she takes a bullet for him, Thenardier doesn’t recognize Eponine when he sees her in the Rue Plumet garden, etc.
But when Javert is about to be executed, he’s like “oh, it’s her. I know her.”
“Javert gazed askance at the body and, profoundly calm, said in a low tone:
“It strikes me that I know that girl.”
And when Valjean drags a muddied half-dead body away from the barricades-- Javert recognizes it as Marius:
He bent over, drew from his pocket a handkerchief which he moistened in the water and with which he then wiped Marius’ blood-stained brow.
“This man was at the barricade,” said he in a low voice and as though speaking to himself. “He is the one they called Marius.”
(ok I literally never noticed the parallel between the way he recognizes Eponine and Marius’s bodies.............quietly saying ‘oh I know this person’ to himself in a low voice, while Valjean looks on)
But the biggest example is obviously Valjean. Javert recognizes Valjean when no one else does, when everyone else thinks he’s crazy for recognizing him, when everyone else thinks a mayor couldn’t possibly be a felon, etc. He’s the only one who recognizes Valjean when he’s wealthy and a mayor, not just when he’s a prisoner dressed in rags.
At the Champmathieu trial no one believes Valjean’s testimony. They think he’s gone mad, even his own prison-mates don’t seem to know him, they think he can’t possibly be Valjean because he’s too rich and educated, etc. Valjean gets Upset and says:
“I wish Javert were here; he would recognize me.”
Nothing can reproduce the sombre and kindly melancholy of tone which accompanied these words.
And I don’t know how feel about this aspect of Javert????? But it’s....a Thing!!!
#les mis#javert#Javert has One hobby#one thing he does for fun#and it's 'pointing out what people he recognizes'#(redeemed Javert would love people-watching I've decided)#also everyonewasabird wrote a post about the use of 'ecce homo' in les mis#and Javert is kinda like. he is the Pontius Pilate of Les Mis right?#saying 'ecce homo' is his thing#his whole thing is constantly running around saying 'THIS IS THE MAN'#and gesturing at Valjean#who is the jesus christ of les mis#anyway idk if that's cohrerent but its another post#I was gonna write a whole response to birds post about htat#but i have the attention span of a goldfish#speaking of which i need to do homework ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh#bye
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WWI and PTSD in “Downton Abbey”
PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) is portrayed in some way for each character in DA who served during World War I. I’m going to break down each character’s mental status portrayal. (See tags for content warnings before proceeding; we’re talking about WWI here, so be forewarned: it is grim.)
Mr. Lang:
Here was the most obvious portrayal of PTSD, or shell-shock as it was known in this time period, as it was actually named as such. (Shell-shock, of course; it was not known as PTSD yet, nor would it be until after the Vietnam War.) Mr. Lang is not someone we see prior to the war/his military service, but can still certainly see the impact on his mental state. He had the following: flashbacks, night terrors, startle responses, moments where he seemed to hear artillery fire and other war noises, short attention span, feeling of being profoundly different from those around him, panic attacks....I felt so bad for him. If someone has incapacitating panic attacks and breaks with reality, they should be in a hospital. He was very sick. He is portrayed in a sensitive way, and gets some degree of compassion from the other characters (even Mr. Carson who isn’t...usually very sympathetic to anyone). It also showed his helplessness to handle his mental illness, which is the most accurate thing it could have done: no one can ‘fix’ themselves all by themselves, but the stigma around PTSD/mental illness at the time period meant that most of those people had to suffer in silence in a way that no one should have had to. The people around him respond in ways that often betray their discomfort, which likely stemmed from lack of understanding.
Matthew:
Matthew had one of the more subtle portrayals of PTSD among these characters; he didn’t convey a great deal of fear in battle or immediately after; however, those who know the signs and symptoms of PTSD know that the brief moments when he goes silent, and appears almost frozen with memory, that is a sign that he may be having slight episodes of dissociation. The cessation of sound and appearance of him being almost not in himself is a trademark sign of dissociation, or ‘floating above it’ as people often describe this sensation. There are times when it seems that he is the stereotypical war hero who is never thrown by the horrors, and who carries on as before, but anyone who can spot the subtler signs of PTSD can probably pick up on the fact that although he is alright, he is not okay.
Thomas:
Thomas, it conveyed had PTSD through both his actions, and through some stylistic techniques. Like Matthew, it conveys that he dissociated when the man he was trying to get to safety bleeds out in front of him and, more jarringly, his comrade gets abruptly shot through the head, within seconds of each other. Thomas was the character with whom we saw the most sudden, horrific kind of death that was characteristic of the western front. This makes sense, as he was a medic, and thus probably more than anyone else would probably feel responsible for the wellbeing of those around him. It’s easy to imagine that he felt a specific kind of guilt as a result; the guilt of perhaps feeling he’d failed those he was supposed to help. His trauma is also portrayed through his actions: namely, the blind fear of death (”when will my luck run out?”) and also likely exhaustion being why he intentionally got himself shot. (That scene...God. I felt a literal chill go down my neck as I imagined the blind terror that would be both behind and a result of such an awful choice.) He didn’t want to die, but he easily could have, but more than that: he needed to get out before his mind was totally gone. He must have seen many, many soldiers with PTSD and may have been self-aware enough to know that he wasn’t far behind them, and just needed to get out. (To put some things in perspective here: the average tour of duty modern day is ~12 months because you literally cannot ask more of a human being. Thomas had been in the Somme for somewhere between 24 and 30 months.)
Edward Courtenay:
It never expressly says he had PTSD, but rather that his blindness as a result of a gas attack at (I assume?) the Somme was the root cause of his depression and ultimately committing suicide.
Mrs. Patmore’s nephew:
Archie is never an on-screen character, but he is referenced throughout the season and then later on in the series with the war memorial. Mrs. Patmore was clearly (understandably) destroyed by the news that Archie was essentially executed by his fellow soldiers for ‘cowardice’ which we are meant to take means mental illness. (It was usually associated with a certain action, like running away or intentional injury, but really, nobody does those things when they aren’t, as Mrs. Patmore said, “out of their minds with fear”.) So Archie is treated as a sympathetic character by the narrative, and by Mrs. Patmore and the one person she felt was trustworthy in context, Mr. Lang. (Later on, however, Mr. Carson makes a snippy comment about how it would be insulting to the ones who “did their duty” to remember him along with them, though he fortunately gets upstaged by Robert when Robert gets a war memorial for him out of kindness to Mrs. Patmore.) Overall, he is remember by the characters in a way that was deservedly very sympathetic, though it shows how unfair the wider world was at the time.
In short: it shows why people born from 1885-1900 were referred to as the “Lost Generation”.
#cw: war#cw: mental illness#cw: suicide#cw: violence#cw: ptsd#maybe should do another one for non-war related ptsd#downton abbey#downton abbey (2010-2015)#thomas barrow#matthew crawley#mrs. patmore#edward courtenay#mr. lang#long post#wrote it in one go#will edit later
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A Quote to Live by
"Every path is the right path, everything could have been anything else, and it would have just as much meaning"
Mr. Nobody (2009)
One of a lot of movies that scarred me for life.
Nemo Nobody (Jared Leto) is 118 years old and reminiscing—on the time he had spent on this planet. His parents separated when he was 9-years-old and he went to live with his mother and her boyfriend, or did he? He might have stayed with his father and fallen in love with Elise. Although he remember falling madly in love with Anna (Diane Kruger), his step-sister and making love to her. His marriage with Elise was a nightmare with Elise suffering from clinical depression and Nemo might have died multiple times. Foreseeing this (Elise’s mental illness) Nemo might have settled with Joan, a girl he met at a party, and had two kids, whose names he can’t remember.
Perplexed, right? So is Nemo because he can’t decide upon the life he has led.
Oh and did I tell you that Nemo can see the future. Or can he?
You were unable to take a decision because you didn’t knew what would happen and now when you know what will happen you still unable to make a decision.
The problem with reviewing this epic fantasia by the Belgian director Jaco Van Dormael, is that you know you’ll fall short of words and ideas to write your understanding of the film, knowing still well that your understanding is probably a meager fraction of what the film is about. I’ve seen no other film, that drags for roughly 3 hours, challenges your mind thoroughly, makes you ponder about things you would've never thought of otherwise—and all these, throughout it’s playtime. Mr. Nobody is an ensemble of numerous mosaics from all the possible lives Nemo might have led, interwoven with just enough precision to not let you go: “Fuck this shit, I’m hitting the bed.” Not a single frame is a filler.
It is but the first of many decisions said above that cause Nemo’s history to fracture and diverge into multiple timelines; he gives a love letter, he doesn’t give a love letter, he becomes a photographer, and a TV personality, he marries Elise, Jean and Anne, he drowns in his car, is killed by a meteorite, and executed by mobsters. The result is a rather confusing collection of alternative realities that are even further complicated by being framed through the complex physics of time and space.
And yet, I believe that, at the center of it all, all this complexity serves one single purpose, one fundamental question; how do we make meaningful choices? To answer this question, we first have to answer several others.
We can immediately see how this one-directional movement places a burden on our decision-making; We cannot go back, that’s why it’s hard to choose. But what is the right choice? What makes one choice more meaningful over another? This question can only really be answered if there is such a thing as meaning, something to serve as an anchor against which to weigh our options and base our decisions. However, looking to the universe for such a guiding light is likely to leave you disappointed. Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect? The butterfly effect is a part of chaos theory, suggesting that a small change in one state can result in larger differences in a later state. And as we see in many of Nemo’s timelines, this causal reaction often undermines our own agency, although of course, we generally experience this phenomenon as random chance, bringing us either good fortune, or bad luck.
In the opening scene, we are also presented with an experiment in which a pigeon is given a treat every 20 seconds. The researchers discovered that if the pigeon happened to be flapping its wings when given the treat, it would continue to do so, convinced its actions are what caused it. This phenomenon, which is referred to as pigeon superstition, further emphasizes the dissonance between
how we perceive causality, and how the universe actually works. In other words, we may believe our choices and actions affect the world in a certain way, but in reality we know very little about what forces move our lives into certain directions. It is why, whenever something unexpected happens, be it good or bad, we are left wondering; what did I do to deserve this? Well, it's important for you to understand that in life, things don’t always turn out as we plan them. Life isn’t always what we think it will be.
So what does all this imply for our ability to make meaningful choices? How can we make informed decisions if we cannot even oversee all the variables? It is perhaps why we long for immortality,
for infinite time to figure out the right path and infinite chances to correct ourselves if we take a wrong turn. But I think this is where we have to consider Nemo gift, for Nemo is not like everyone else.
The point is that when faced with a difficult choice, knowing everything that will happen is just as paralyzing as not knowing what will happen. A philosopher Ruth Chang exposes a fundamental flaw in how we approach decision-making. Basically, she explains that we tend to make choices by weighing alternatives against each other, and judging whether one option is better than, equal to, or worse than another. And while this may be a reasonable approach for easier decisions, when it comes to the hard choices in our lives, where do we live? Who do we marry? what career do we pursue? This approach often falls short.
That's why the choice is hard. What distinguishes these kind of choices is that they do not become easier even if the outcomes are clearer. Nemo’s omniscience showed him every possible path,
but this couldn’t tell him if the love for his mother was more valuable than the love for his father, it couldn’t tell him if the heartbreak from Anna leaving was worse than that of Elise’s depression, in short; it couldn’t tell him which path was the right path, and here lies the crux of the problem; we are searching for meaning outside of ourselves, for external reasons to support these difficult decisions.
“Every path is the right path.
Everything could've been anything else.
And it would have just as much meaning”
And so instead of desperately searching the universe for guidance, for that one sign or reasonable argument telling us what we should do, it is we ourselves who have to make our choices meaningful. So the lesson of hard choices: reflect on what you can put your agency behind, on what you can be for, and through hard choices, become that person. This is no easy task, even if we believe we are on the right path, there will be mistakes, there will be sorrow.
We all experience moments of regret, moments where we feel life has passed us by, where we long for that reset button to give us another chance; another chance to say what we really meant, to show courage when we were afraid, to be the person we really wanted to be. But if we truly act from the heart, if we base our decisions on our innermost voices, we will also experience something else. We will find that if we want to, if we choose to, it is possible to love, to be loved, and to experience moments of genuine happiness, moments in which it becomes absolutely clear that, even if it is for a brief instance in an infinite universe, our lives can be profoundly meaningful. I'm not afraid of dying, I'm just scared that I haven't lived enough.
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Perhaps the single most lucid, succinct, and profoundly terrifying analysis of social media ever created for mass consumption, Jeff Orlowski’s “The Social Dilemma” does for Facebook what his previous documentaries “Chasing Ice” and “Chasing Coral” did for climate change (read: bring compelling new insight to a familiar topic while also scaring the absolute shit out of you). And while the film covers — and somehow manages to contain — a staggering breadth of topics and ramifications, one little sentence is all it takes to lay out the means and ends of the crisis at hand: Russia didn’t hack Facebook, Russia used Facebook.
That may not be a mind-blowing idea for anyone who’s been raised on the internet, but it would be wrong to think that Orlowski’s film is only speaking to the back of the class. While “The Social Dilemma” is relevant to every person on the planet, and should be legible enough to even the most technologically oblivious types (the Amish, the U.S. Senate, and so forth), its target demographic is very online types who think they understand the information age too well to be taken advantage of. That’s zoomers, millennials, and screen junkies of any stripe who wouldn’t have the faintest interest in a finger-wagging documentary about how they should spend more time outside.
Taking a top-down, inside out approach to the basic nature of the social media experiment, Orlowski’s film doesn’t waste any time in proving its bonafides (and using them to strike fear into your heart). It begins with an ominous nugget of wisdom from Sophocles, who would have crushed it on Twitter: “Nothing vast enters the life of mortals without a curse.” From there, Orlowski introduces viewers to some of the most worried-looking white people you’re likely to find these days: The designers, engineers, and executives who invented social media, and then quit when they began to understand the existential threat it posed to all civilization. The guy who invented the “like” button. An ex-department head at Instagram. Even one of the techies responsible for Gmail and Google Drive. As annoying as it can be when someone tells you to quit Facebook, it’s hard to ignore someone who’s actually quit Facebook.
Orlowski’s star interviewee, however, is a guy who’s often referred to as “Silicon Valley’s conscience.” His name is Tristan Harris, he’s the co-founder of the Center for Humane Technology, and his measured alarmism serves as a worried voice of reason throughout the film as “The Social Dilemma” strives to bridge the gap between abstract threats and direct consequences. The most overarching of those macro concerns is a free-to-use business model that coerces people into betraying their own value. As the saying goes (and is quoted here): “If you’re not paying for the product, you are the product.”
With the help of articulate testimony, illuminating visual aids, and a well-crafted thesis that elegantly articulates the relationship between persuasive technology and human behavior, Orlowski fortifies the familiar argument that addiction isn’t a side effect of social media, but rather the industry’s business model. Our data is used as a currency for these companies, but our time is a far more precious commodity — how much of our lives can they get us to forfeit over to them?
The more time we spend on social media, the more valuable our human futures become; the more valuable our human futures become, the more that advertisers are willing to pay for them. And how does a company like Facebook or YouTube (which is technically Google) convince us to spend more time on their platforms? They change our fundamental perception of reality, as The Algorithm is designed to populate things into our feeds and queues that will excite/agitate us towards engagement, pull us deeper into our respective rabbit holes, and silo us all into our separate realities. It’s surveillance capitalism run amok, as well as a peerlessly effective recipe for extremism.
Orlowski, recognizing that diagnosing the problem on such a profound scale is enough to make even the most rational of people sound like they’re suffering from paranoid schizophrenia, devises a bold and semi-successful way of making these enormous concepts feel more life-sized. Every so often, Orlowski cuts away to the scripted tale of an average, middle-class American family in order to more practically illustrate the effect that social media has on our lives. And by “our lives,” this critic means to stress that “The Social Dilemma” is more interested in Facebook’s impact on the average teenager than it is in — say — Facebook’s impact on the genocidal violence against Muslim Rohyingas in Myanmar. But Orlowski knows his audience.
“Booksmart” actor Skyler Gisondo plays a high school kid named Ben who’s addicted to his phone, “Moonrise Kingdom” breakout Kara Hayward is his concerned older sister, and — in a touch of absolute genius — “Mad Men” star Vincent Kartheiser plays several human manifestations of The Algorithm itself, selling Ben reasons to stay on his phone like some kind of dystopian Pete Campbell. These sequences first arrive with the queasy awkwardness of an after school special, and seem determined to make teenagers roll their eyeballs right out of their heads. But if these dramatizations can be more than a bit too on the nose, they’re redeemed by an emergent — and very amusing — self-awareness that reflects our own; a certain level of irony is required to get through to people who regularly tweet about how much they hate Twitter (aka “this website” aka “this hellsite”).
The least effective of these moments can make it feel as though “The Social Dilemma” underestimates the persuasiveness of its own arguments, but the most valuable passages help to illustrate one particularly alarming sound byte from elsewhere in the film: “We’re so worried about tech overpowering human strength that we don’t pay attention to tech overpowering human weakness.” It’s helpful to see how social media can inflame our inherent need for approval, and discourage people from taking risks that might alienate the online community. It’s convincing to see The Algorithm alert Ben to his ex-girlfriend’s new relationship so that he’ll spend more time sifting through her photos, and — in a frustratingly reductive way — watch The Algorithm populate Ben’s feed with videos that radicalize him into the fold of a political movement called “The Extreme Center,” a cute touch that nevertheless draws a false equivalency between left and right.
Is “The Social Dilemma” persuasive enough to convince a MAGA zealot to stop binge-watching Ben Shapiro nonsense and buy a subscription to a newspaper? It’s hard to say. But the film will definitely make you more cognizant of your own behavior — not just of how you use the internet, but how the internet uses you. And it will do so in a way that feels less like an intervention than it does a wake-up call; Orlowski and his subjects recognize how the internet has created a simultaneous utopia and dystopia, and they aren’t under any delusions that we’re able to wish it away. Their documentary isn’t instructive so much as directional, and thereby most fascinating for the implications it leaves you to consider on your own time.
How has social media shaped the way we think about (overlapping) things like politics, race, and entertainment? What impact does siloing people into their own realities have on our faith in empathy, objective truth, and some kind of shared understanding? And does the isolated and algorithmically-programmed nature of streaming video make it less of an alternative to the theatrical experience than its antithesis? As human futures become human presents, these questions will only grow more urgent. In the meantime: Quit Facebook, don’t click on Instagram ads, and — for the love of God — make sure that your Twitter feed is set to chronological order instead of “showing you the best tweets first,” because the only hope we have left lies in the difference between what you and The Algorithm consider to be good content.
Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com
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Hi, sorry, I just wanted to say I didn't understand your Parasite tags? Did you like the movie? I only saw it last month and I don't know if I liked it or not, what's your opinion? Thanks!
I liked the movie a lot and will probably rewatch it soon, but I don’t know if I understood what it had to say about capitalism and class.
Like - when I was a teen we watched A Short Film About Killing by Kieślowski. It shows a man planning a murder, and, later, the state planning his execution. It’s supposed to be against the death penalty because it compares how the two killings are essentially the same, but the murder itself is shown so crudely, it actually had the opposite effect on me and made me wonder for the first time in my life if it’s actually okay to execute some people, you know what I mean? The guy was just evil, no rational motive, no redeeming qualities - I walked away thinking, ‘Whatever, they were right to kill him’.
And here it’s sort of the same. I’m sure I’m missing a lot of symbolism and metaphors and stuff because I don’t know Korean culture and cinematography very well, but for me, the obvious message didn’t stick. Like, sure - it’s profoundly unjust the Kim family is living in some basement while the Parks have a mansion to themselves, but by choosing to frame the families in the way he did, I feel like Bong Joon-ho didn’t help us focus on that inequality. Because the thing is, the Kims are terrible people. Ki-woo takes advantage of a teenage girl, Ki-jung poses as a therapist so she can fake-treat a sick child for money? They manage to get two people fired for no good reason except ‘I want that for myself’. The young driver could suffer from life-long consequences if Mr Park tells anyone about what (allegedly) happened, and as for Moon-gwang - first of all, the peaches stunt could have killed her? And even if her husband hadn’t been living in the basement, what is a person her age going to do? Mrs Park won’t recommend someone she thinks has an infectious disease, and Moon-gwang’s worked her entire life in that house. She was happy there. As for the Park family - yes, the way they live is symptomatic of a sick society, but they’re not bad people. Mrs Park is a bit of an idiot and does her best to look after her kids. Mr Park may be a snob, but he was never openly rude to his employees and paid them well. In the end, the Kims’ scam resulted in the death of four people, and I think some forgot that the title of the movie was meant to refer to both families - the Parks are parasites because they need others to survive, but the Kims are also parasites, because they cuckoo their way into someone else’s home and wreck it.
I don’t know. I think it was a masterpiece and well worth a watch, but I’m not sure about its political message, if any.
#ask#parasite#spoilers#movie rec#a few other works left me with this feeling#one ken loach movie for instance#and that god-awful novel about immigration#i forgot the title & don't want to look it up#traumatized me#allegedly written to humanize immigrants#by a lefty writer#got me to hate them and despise them#i mean in the novel#and this seems to be the message here#be careful with the hired help#don't trust anyone from the lower classes#mh
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the top 5 dumbest lyrics in the Beetlejuice musical
because it’s finally October and also because @dykerory just took the GRE and presumably endured suffering beyond my wildest imagination, so this is sort of a gift to her
*disclaimer 1 pls don’t take this seriously. I love this stupid musical so much and I’m allowed to point out some of the lyrics are dumb as hell. I don’t care if you want to fight about this, I don’t.
**disclaimer 2 the fact that certain songs aren’t on here doesn’t mean they’re good and flawless it means I never listen to them! everything from “Barbara 2.0″ to “Home” is boring I’m sorry I’m sorry pls see disclaimer 1 and remember that I don’t care enough to fight about this.
***disclaimer 3 all the songs on here are on the list because I listen to them CONSTANTLY and have to think about the bad lines too much my relationship with this musical is... como se dice... complicada.
tldr tiktok theater kids don’t try to start any shit
having gotten that out of the way
5.) Here comes the bride / Here comes the bride / God be glorified / I can’t believe some cultures think this kind of thing’s alright (“Creepy Old Guy”)
listen I really genuinely find this song delightfully fun and has some genuinely clever lines, but god they really are down on their knees BEGGING you not to legitimately ship Lydia and Beej and it’s so funny. and by funny I mean this line is dumb. quick, let’s bring an entire song to a screeching stop, staring the audience dead in the eyes while we sing this line, to make sure nobody out there thinks we’re seriously advocating for teenage girls to marry ancient demons from hell.
4.) Cause Daddy’s in denial / Daddy doesn’t want to feel / He wants me to smile / And clap like a performing seal (“Dead Mom”)
full disclosure that I REALLY like “Dead Mom,” to the point that I think hearing a snippet of it might have been what got me to listen to the musical in the first place? it has a lot of lines that are on the cheesy side, like Lydia referring to herself as her dead mother’s “clone” and “strange creation,” but I’m honestly fully willing to let those slide because they do kind of sound the questionably good poetry a profoundly depressed teenager would come up with thinking it’s really, really deep.
I draw the line at this one, because it’s just. it’s a bad and lazy rhyme. it’s not so abrasive that it peels my skin off but lord, try a little harder. props to Sophia Anne Caruso for selling it as hard as she did.
3.) I want freedom / But to get my freedom, I need them / To get a living person to say my name (The Fright of Their Lives)
okay, listen. this is a fun song. the interaction between Beej, Adam, and Barbara is fun, the segment where the backup choir gets summoned is really cool, and the soliloquy joke it actually pretty solid. unfortunately we lead into the choir segment with this bit, which is literally just Beej recapping his motivation for the entire audience, even though he’s already done that early in the show and will shortly do it AGAIN in “Say My Name.”
I honestly sort of get why it might have felt necessary for the soundtrack-only fans, since the musical diverges from the movie, so that level of explanation might have felt necessary, but if anything that just makes this line a reminder of how needlessly convoluted the musical made itself. obviously there’s a fine line to walk when it comes to how much to use musical numbers to exposit, and the “I Want” song is a musical staple, but having your title character just flat out singing “I want x” is a little much for me.
2.) Don’t be so vanilla / Would a little anger kill ya? / C’mon, drop your panties / I’m trying to fill ya / With wisdom and skill / And the instinct to kill (“The Fright of Their Lives”)
again, I don’t have any beef against “The Fright of Their Lives.” and I UNDERSTAND that being a meaty pervert is, like, Beej’s entire personality, and that this wouldn’t even be wildly out of line with the 1988 version of the character.
I get that, and I have mad the executive decision not to care! it’s viscerally uncomfortable to listen to and I was a more well-adjusted person before I heard it. @ Eddie Perfect, pay my fucking therapist - and while I have you here, can we talk about why making Beetlejuice down to sexually harass Adam along with Barbara maybe wasn’t the cool fun move you thought it would be? I have to see bi/pan pride art of him now, Eddie.
1.) I’m trapped with no escape / Banished! Disavowed! / I vanished like a cloud of dirty hipster vape (“Invisible (Reprise)/On the Roof”)
if you listen really carefully one the OBC you can actually hear this line becoming less relevant by the second. for a musical based on a movie that’s over thirty years old, this show is weirdly hung up on making its humor #topical - this is also a callout for the joke about gay Republicans early in the show - which paradoxically means certain portions already feel more dated than the movie does.
the pop cultural love of dunking on hipsters was pretty well played out by the time this show was running previews in 2018, and boy, it’s not getting any more relevant as time rolls on. maybe if this line wasn’t positioned in such a way that Alex Brightman has to emphasize the word “vape” like his life depends on it I could let it slide, but as is I have to physically brace myself for the psychic damage this line deals me every single time.
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Hi! You recently shared a post of mine and I'd just like to clear up a few things. We British farmers are incredibly proud of our welfare standards and the quality of which we uphold our commitment to high welfare and happy lives of animals. Non-stun slaughter is actually illegal in the UK so these lambs won't be strung up and our sheep are used to protect Christmas trees not used for meat! Anymore questions please send my way, I wouldn't want false information going around!
Hi, and apologies in advance for the upcoming length of this answer, there's a fair bit to talk about.
So first I think it's important to keep in mind that while you and other farmers can feel as proud of your actions as you would like. The truth is that you are still exploiting, abusing, and murdering sentient beings for profit. In the words of former farmer Bob Comis, “Livestock farmers, no matter what kind — from the largest, most cynical, and inhumane factory farmers to the smallest, seemingly most ethical pasture-based farmers — traffic in death. It is death that is our aim, our purpose. Death is the end. Life is the means. Money the reward.”
And a few more quotes from former “high welfare standard” farmers on whether their animals live happy high welfare lives, putting aside for the moment that the overwhelming majority of animals exploited, abused and slaughtered in the UK are factory farmed:
“In my experience, there is no such thing as humane animal products, humane farming practices, humane transport, or humane slaughter.”
“Humane labels still designate animal lives as so inherently inferior and existentially worthless that breeding, exploiting, and killing them for completely unnecessary reasons can still be embraced, celebrated even, as “ethical” and “humane.”
“I would tell everyone, “They have a really great life, up until they no longer have one.” It makes me cringe now to type that. I wholeheartedly believed in the “humane slaughter” myth.”
“ And even worse, even though I soon learned that sheep all have individual personalities, are SMART, and definitely form bonds with one another, show joy, fear, friendship–every human emotion–I still did not make the connection.”
I would also like to note that this “high welfare/happy” animal farming idea is !00% a myth. In even the “highest welfare” British farms, animals are forcibly bred into existence to live their too-short lives trapped in genetically engineered bodies that are ravaged by their size and/or forced overproduction of babies and milk (or in the case of sheep, both babies and the wool they grow as a result of genetic engineering which results in many health issues for these animals) till they are either “spent” (in the case of sheep, they are “spent” from their reproductive systems being exploited or they are no longer profitable enough for their wool) or reach ”market weight” and are slaughtered for profit. This is fundamentally unjustifiable and unethical, and to use the term “high welfare” or “happy lives” to describe this is frankly outrageous and deeply disturbing.
And let's not forget that the “high welfare” “and happy lives” these animals are living include forced impregnation, stealing babies away from mothers, routine mutilations without anesthetic, the murder of newborns and young animals, unnatural and cruel living conditions, denial of important instinctive behaviors and preferences and brutal transport and slaughter conditions. And yes, this includes in sheep farming, as I explained in my original response. And also yes, all these cruel practices take place on every farm form the biggest factory farm to the smallest, highest regulated local British family farm.
And a great article by @acti-veg here.
And an excerpt from a fantastic talk below:
“We turn these living beings into data points, flowcharts, and percentages—calculate to a decimal point’s certainty the exact cost of every aspect of their lives and details for their deaths. We relegate the annual mass murder of over 3 billion day-old conscious, innocent babies to a footnote. A footnote in a study conducted for the welfare regulations we’re so graciously creating. We deem them legally sentient, deserving freedom from hunger, thirst, discomfort, pain, injury, disease, fear, distress and mental suffering, as the EU did—then use this very recognition of their capacity to feel the same emotions and sensations as we do to design—in language so disturbingly detached it’s nothing short of sociopathic—the exact manner in which we may legally violate, imprison, cut, burn, alter, and murder them.
This is how profoundly illogical our thinking is when it comes to animals. It goes against all basic human understanding. Knowing better but doing wrong anyway is worse than having no knowledge. Yet we have the audacity to hold this legislative recognition of non-human sentience on high as a giant step forward for the rights of animals. As if systematically exploiting individuals with fully admitted knowledge and comprehension of their capacity to suffer is something to commend.
Look what we offer ourselves as evidence of progress: one news report extolled the reduction in animals slipping and falling on their way to slaughter in one abattoir in one country. When we look at our actions from the other side, the perverse absurdity of our deluded self-congratulations is astounding. If you were in the place of these beings, how grateful would you feel if your captor laid down a bathmat on the ramp to your execution?
Is this really the best we have to offer? Being the most courteous murderers? The most considerate rapists? Pouring untold resources into these convoluted laws and regulations, all the while completely blind to the fact that there’s another option entirely”
The whole video:
youtube
You say that the sheep you farm are not murdered for their flesh. Are you trying to say that you don't send lambs or sheep of any age to slaughterhouses? You let them all live out their natural lifespans, caring for them till they die of old age>
And when it comes to slaughter, yes these animals are strung upsidedown to have their throats slit open. It's also not illegal to slaughter these animals without stunning in cases such as halal and kosher slaughter. But let's say that every single animal is slaughtered painlessly, this doesn't make this needless taking of life justifiable. @acti-veg has a great article here explaining why this is the case. It's important to recognize that the idea of some sort of ethical or even “humane” slaughter (which you seem to be implying is the case) is an oxymoronic marketing term designed to make people feel good about supporting something that is inherently immoral, taking the life of an innocent, sentient being for an unnecessary purpose.
But if we want to talk about the actual stunning of these animals for a moment, while stunning is supposed causes a temporary loss of consciousness. The MHS says that the interval between stunning and knifing can be as high as 70 seconds for sheep. Another study found that the average interval was 21 seconds. Sheep take an average of 14 seconds to lose brain responsiveness if both carotid arteries (the major arteries that supply blood to the head) are cut. UK law only requires one carotid artery to be cut and in this case, sheep take an average of 70 seconds to lose brain responsiveness. Yet an electric head-only stun only lasts between 20 and 40 seconds. This means that an estimated 4 million lambs/sheep will regain consciousness each year before they die and there is a lot of video footage showing lambs/sheep regaining consciousness as they bleed to death after being stung upside down to have their throats slit.
And when only one carotid artery is cut, sheep are often still alive after the required 20 seconds bleed out time, which means they are literally skinned alive, in British slaughterhouses. Researchers at Bristol University found that after an electric stun, sheep have periods of being fully aware of their surroundings i.e. they can still feel fear and they are conscious whilst hanging upside down on the killing rail, bleeding to death. They could not prove whether the electricity has an immediate effect and Dr Harold Hillman, Director of the Unity Laboratory of Applied Neurobiology has stated that when animals are stunned, they actually suffer extreme pain, they are simply unable to cry out or move because the massive electric current paralyzes them. So the stunning itself, which you are promoting as being an example of “high British welfare” is itself immensely cruel.
And I will link to some more info below for anyone reading this, my askbox is also always open if anyone has any questions.
~ Report on the British “high welfare” sheep farming industry
~ Fully referenced fact sheet here
~ Investigation into “high welfare” UK sheep farms and another here
~ Article form the guardian
~ Stress response in sheep during handling
~ Impact of lambing on sheep
~ Lamb slaughter ages
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That "might burn your family" tweet is indicative of what I know is going to happen in fandom: sure, people are indignant now about Dany but most people don't like to be rebels; they like to be co-signed by authority (the "I'm right b/c its canon" crowd"). And no matter how it was sugarcoated, GOT canon is that Dany is a mass-murderer. Those who are not stans will slowly but surely fall in line with this reading of her, not the least b/c they don't want to be wrong AGAIN when the books come out.
If you didn’t see it already, this is the HBO_UK tweet the anon refers:
You sound very hopeful Anon. I agree that, in general, most people don’t like to be wrong, and certainly they don’t want to be wrong again about the same issue.
But this fandom is something else…
Certain part of it just decided to live in denial and delusion (oh the irony): “I would never post a pic of dead dany”, “dany belongs to her fans that really love her and not to the misogynist show/books creators” (copyright what?), “I would never read the Books if that is the final”, etc, etc, etc.
We also have the actress that played dany saying/doing things like these:
I stand by Daenerys.
Clarke revealed that she met Beyonce at an Oscars after-party hosted by the musician and her husband, Jay Z. There, she was approached by the host herself, who gushed about Daenerys Targaryen. Beyonce, however, like the rest of the world, was at that point ignorant about Daenerys’ dark turn in Season 8. “All I wanted to scream was ‘Please, please still like me even though my character turns into a mass-killing dictator! Please still think that I’m representing women in a really fabulous way,’ ” Clarke said of the encounter. [x]
About the backlash on the final season: “It was profoundly flattering. Is what it was, because when someone cares that much, that they’re ready to make such a noise about how they believe the characters should have been… should have been finished, and how the story should have been gone. That’s just enormously flattering, that just shows how much everybody loved it.”
She is using Dany and Drogon images to promote her charity. Dany is not bringing fire and blood for once, she is a cute little nurse bringing help to those in need.
We also have certain group of “asoiaf experts“ so called BNF, that decided not to watch the Show years ago, because it’s “sacrilege“, only the books are canon (in this I agree), but they have created their own canon, the way they interprete and understand the Books, and their followers buy everything they say as “the canon”. They still believe in their 20 years old theories that include Dany is the hero, maybe she would have a brief “dark phase“ but then “enters Jon” and they gonna fall in love, make love, celebrate life, have a baby, defeat the big bad guys walk walkers and sacrifice themselves to save the humanity. Tyrion will be the third head of the dragon, etc.
As you can see Anon, that very human sentiment to hate being wrong, sometimes includes the belief that you can’t be wrong. So all these people (fans/stans/experts/etc) will stand by their beliefs and theories till the very end (when the books are at last published and they read them). And even after that they would say that GRRM is wrong, just like right now they are saying D&D are wrong.
Dark Dany is not new. It have been theorized for years, And according to Elio García, co-author of the World of Ice and Fire, GRRM himself complimented that Dark Dany essay: “(…) he referred very specifically to the Meereenese Blot website and the knot essays. He said he was told about them, read them, and was very pleased that someone was able to get his difficulties and his intentions perfectly.”
And for those that paid attention, it was clear that the Show was taking that route at least since season 2. Her conversation with the Spice King is very telling. There is also this conversation with Hizdahr Zo Loraq in season 5 that is very much the same conversation she had with Jon just before he killed her.
The Battle of the Bastard’s script says: “She doesn’t have to look. She only allows the faintest hint of a smile. A smile that says: my tyranny is not ended, motherfucker. It’s only just begun.”
People also have season 7 and even after watching those seven episodes, they believed that GOT was going to have a happy ending, a Disney one, with Targaryen restoration, jonerice wedding, king and queen coronation, boat baby and all.
But you are right, the sugarcoat was real. They change season 7 - episode 2 title from “The Mad King’s Daughter” to something more poetic/whitewashed: “Stormborn”:
What I was impressed by was the little hints that we saw of potentially her (Daenerys) becoming like her father in those conversations ( her talking with Varys). You know, threatening to burn somebody alive, in any universes, it’s not great.
Bryan Cogman: She has dragons, an effective form of execution.
But knowing what her father was doing to people that line sticks in your ear and also when inviting him ( Jon) down and she wants him to immediately bend the knee
Bryan Cogman: Yeah, I mean, she sees this as her birthright… it’s plain and simple, you know, they took this from her, it’s hers.
And so much of the episode ( really the whole season) not just for Daenerys but for a lot of our characters is dealing with the legacy of their families and the generations that preceded them and dealing not only with how they feel about it and what they might share with some of those ancestors but how other people perceive you.
That legacy it’s kind of why I wanted to originally call it the Mad King’s daughter (I like Stormborn, I think is a great title actually), I really wanted to call it the Mad King’s daughter and actually it would have made more sense.
In the original edit there were more characters referring to her like this in pretty much every scene and I think some of that was lost in the final edit but in the original script and in the original edit ( which was longer) pretty much every character that wasn’t in the Daenerys‘s circle was referring to her as “the Mad King’s daughter is here” .
Considering this idea that she’s got a reputation before she has ever set foot there, because she has a brother’s reputation too, that first scene is definitely about her reconciling with that, wrestling with how much of that legacy is good for her brand and what isn’t and certainly that is a big part of the no-fire bombing strategy.
It’s like: you could come in here and torch the whole place and everyone would be horrified and what have you achieved? If you want to rule, you need to take a different approach.
But under that, and I think you picked up on something in that first scene, is that she’s got a real kind of need and desire to go in guns blazing and from an emotional point of view the scene has to set up this.
Game of Thrones’ Writer Bryan Cogman: In Conversation (Part 2)
The Mad King’s Daughter, she’s got a real kind of need and desire to go in guns blazing.
Yeah, hero material you all.
And even during season 8, after episode 2, Bryan Cogman made this really telling comparison between Sansa and Dany:
Sansa knows that of all the Starks that were ripped from Winterfell, she suffered the most to get it back. She’s the driving force for getting it back. Now she’s being told, “It’s not yours, and it’s not the Starks’ anymore. It belongs to Hitler’s daughter, the worst person in the world’s daughter, the daughter of the person who murdered your grandfather and uncle in the worst way possible. And guess what? Your brother, who you convinced to step up when he wanted to fuck off because of his death experience, bent the knee to her and is telling you that she’s your queen.” What part of Sansa’s reaction to any of this is irrational?
At the same time, if you’re Dany, this is the family that stole your family’s legacy. You grew up as a child living in constant fear that you were going to be murdered the next day. Then you’re married off to a warlord, and you’ve scraped and suffered and endured, and here you are. You’re going to help these people who destroyed your life and your family’s lives. Where’s the gratitude?
Even if he described both sides’ positions and sentiments, if you say one side’s reaction is not irrational, and then call the other side “Hitler’s daughter”, you know exactly who is the good guy and who is the evil one.
D&D surely sugarcoated Dany, they were not calling her plainly “The Mad King’s Daughter”, but they were subtly telling us that she indeed was Aery’s pretty version:
Jon: She’ll be a good queen. For all of us. She’s not her father.
Sansa: No, she’s much prettier.
—GOT season 8 - episode 1
In that “I stand by Daenerys” article, the interviewer recalled Kit Harington’s words about Jon killing Dany, during season 8 filming:
“I think it’s going to divide,” Harington says of the finale’s fan reaction. “But if you track her story all the way back, she does some terrible things. She crucifies people. She burns people alive. This has been building. So, we have to say to the audience: ‘You’re in denial about this woman as well. You knew something was wrong. You’re culpable, you cheered her on.’”
Harington adds he worries the final two episodes will be accused of being sexist, an ongoing criticism of GoT that has recently resurfaced perhaps more pointedly than ever before. “One of my worries with this is we have Cersei and Dany, two leading women, who fall,” he says. “The justification is: Just because they’re women, why should they be the goodies? They’re the most interesting characters in the show. And that’s what Thrones has always done. You can’t just say the strong women are going to end up the good people. Dany is not a good person. It’s going to open up discussion but there’s nothing done in this show that isn’t truthful to the characters. And when have you ever seen a woman play a dictator?”
After reading what Kit said, Dany stans gone rabid. They said things like HBO forced him to say those words and others simply insulted and hated him. Because, you know, he is wrong. D&D are also wrong. They are just a pair of white misogynist dudes that can’t stand women in power… SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!
I mean, look at these headlines. Dany stans/targ lovers are now justifying genocide. They are making/selling/buying “Her Satanic Majestic” T-shirts.
So there you have it Anon. Some of them decided to believe Dany will still be the hero in the Books, because she ended slavery you know, that’s not what villains do, if you think different, you are a slavery apologist, also misogynist, and surely a Stark stan, those fucking classists xenophobes…
Some others just joined “Her Satanic Majesty” cult. Those ungrateful peasants deserved to be burned alive because they didn’t love Dany. it was their fault that Dany had to go in guns blazing on them. Burn them all! Dracarys! Fire and Blood!
It would be a long ride Anon.
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So Why Should A Hero Be Moral?
The idea of a guy with super powers doing incredible things wasn’t invented by either Japanese anime, western comics, or some obscure 1920′s writer somewhere. No, no, it goes as far back, at least in terms of written record, to Plato’s work known as “Republic”. We find it beginning with the description of an “ancestor of Gyges”. And if you know that name...you know about Gyges’s Ring.
See, this ring makes you invisible if you slip it on. Using the ring, this man got into the king’s palace, seduced the king’s wife, killed the king with her help, and became the new ruler. This story is told to pose a question to us. “Do people actually love justice and goodness for its own sake, or do they do it because they realize if they’re unjust, there’ll be consequences for their actions?
Glaucon, the narrator, takes an “Immoralist” viewpoint. If ANY such person had that kinda magic ring, they’d behave in the same way. NOBODY would “refrain his hands from the possession of others and not touch them”. Well, this is quite the question. Would you do that? Should you do that? But it goes further. Glaucon also claims that if there were any people with special powers so committed to doing good that they’d still seek to be just, the rest of us would despise them and regard them with contempt. Why? Because if anyone who had a license to do whatever the hell they thought refused to do wrong or lay their hands on others things, the reaction would be “What the hell are you, stupid? You moron! You can do f--king anything and you’re not doing it?”
So Glaucon challenges Socrates in “Republic”. If you want to make a really convincing argument for why people should seek to BE good and not just APPEAR good, well, then show that the life of a person who is truly just but thought by others not to be so is superior to the life of someone who is ACTUALLY unjust, but has a good reputation. We have to compare the lives of people who are genuinely good vs the people who pretend to be so, but are thought of, outwardly, as good.
This is quite the challenge. So then...why SHOULD someone with superpowers or powers of any kind be good at all? Why should people, in general, be good? Not just appear good...BE good? Well, Plato presented a person, in Republic, as being someone who was thought of as unjust and suffered accordingly despite being good...and that person maaaaay have come from personal experience. After all, his beloved teacher was Socrates, a wise, brilliant and formerly well-known and cherished philosopher...who people turned on thanks to trumped up legal charges by claiming he was “corrupting the youth” and other BS claims. So a real, genuine, actual good person DID get thought of as being a stupid ignorant fool and let’s all boo and hiss him and then execute him via the state.
But we’re not in Ancient Greece, so let’s try to call on someone a LITTLE more modern. Kierkegaard the German Philosopher! He said that humans are called upon in life to, well, live a live of universal love. We are called by God to love our neighbors as ourselves, and nobody really falls outside that category of “neighbor”. It’s kinda like the idea of “We’re all brothers in Christ”.
OBVIOUSLY this isn’t even close to being an easy task, Kierkegaard says we need to overcome natural selfishness, and the inertia that pushes us toward the satisfaction of our own desires when those desires conflict with the good of others. This is the “first danger”. The first obstacle to goodness, justice and love. If you CAN overcome this, you can then face the external issue...a “double danger”. What is that?
Kierkegaard says that the big struggle involves first the person’s inner being struggling with themselves, then with the world outside. Because we don’t live in a world where it’s easy to love one another and to be just, after all.
So a moral person has to engage in a certain amount of self-denial. Only THEN can you overcome the firm pull of selfish desire. But then we have to contend with the world because the world isn’t gonna be so nice to us. We may admire sainthood from a distance but facing real, actual virtue can be...disturbing to folks. Think of, say, figures like Gandhi or Dr. King or Harvey Milk or Nelson Mandela. Oh sure, people may ADORE them now but at the time they were alive, folks severely hated them in a lot of places. They were controversial figures who incurred a lot of criticism and in many cases for many beloved figures today...they got murdered for their efforts.
And the temptation of double danger and the like isn’t necessarily the temptation to be a supervillain. Take Spider-Man. Peter’s on his way to see MJ perform. He promised he’d see her. But...uh oh. Some guys are robbing an unfortunate in an alleyway. And...well, he’s Spider-Man! He’s got to help them! So he ends up missing her performance because he had to save people. This wasn’t a temptation to use his powers for financial gain or anything. It was a choice between using your powers for good or...well, just having a normal, private kinda life. He’s tempted to be ORDINARY, not evil. A lot of us kind of experience this. Most of us aren’t tempted to be villains. We wanna be free to pursue our own individual happiness is all.
However Peter also experiences the second danger because J Jonah Jameson, head of the biggest paper in the city, is ALWAYS shouting how Spidey is a menace. Menace! MENACE! Despite Spider-Man saving his life multiple times, AND his son, AND NYC, AND the World over and over...
But no. MENACE!
The good news is the average NYC person doesn’t seem to fear Spider-Man. Unless Joe f--kin’ Quesada is writing the story or the episode because yeah, THAT isn’t tired and played out. But such a thing is a good example of the double danger. Either they cynically refuse to believe in his goodness...or they call him a chump behind his back. Just as Glaucon said they would.
But what does Plato say in response? Well, Plato says that in the long run we’ll be happier both in life and in death, if we live in accordance with justice by turning our attention to the good. Morality reflects the true, deep character of the universe. Those who are committed to the good are committed to what is profoundly and eternally true. It’s no accident this viewpoint’s seen as religious, writers from St. Augustine to C.S Lewis have viewed his metaphysical version of the world as very much congruent to their own faith.
It’s also a matter of mutual responsibilities. Tobe a parent or a son or daughter or husband or wife or a citizen of a state means you have duties to the other. Certain obligations are just part of those kinds of relationships. It doesn’t just merely become grounds to love doing good but to enforce morality across wider stretches and turn it into duty.
For example, driving at a moderate speed is a good thing to do, but we also further enforce this as a legal obligation with speed limits. We don’t just have a moral duty to do the right thing, but a legal one at that. And that’s before we get into any kind of open religious reason for being good. Ultimately, Kierkegaard makes the argument, much like Plato, that humans have a simple reason to behave good. Because our own deepest and ultimate happiness is found by following the path of neighbor love.
But of course, now we get to an opposing viewpoint that has sprung up a lot. The concern of UTILITARIANISM. Let me paint a picture for you of a comic featuring Batman. The Joker is on trial for poisoning stamps. People lick them and they die. This time...the Joker’s found guilty and is going to death row. He is, in fact, going to DIE. And nobody could really argue that he doesn’t deserve it. Even though I’m almost completely against the death penalty...
It’s the goddamn JOKER. There are SOME exceptions to the rule. Some people who, absolutely, one hundred percent, would be too, TOO dangerous to let live and whom everyone else in the world would be better off if they were dead, who’ve proven, even if they were unarmed and had nothing but a glass of water...would smash that glass of water, cut the throats of everyone around them and then grab your gun and shoot you.
But...here’s the thing. THIS time...the Joker’s innocent. Batman knows he didn’t do it.
So...what should he do? A lot of us, and I’m tempted myself, would say, well, “Let the motherf--ker fry in the chair”.
Let’s think up another possibility. The Green Goblin has lasso’d an irritated dishwasher. He’s soaring on his Goblin Glider, the poor guy being dragged behind him, screaming all the way, he gets broken ribs and everything. Luckily, Spider-Man saves him. Now, what nobody knows is the guy was a disgrunted employee who had a gun in his pocket. He was gonna unload it into the first asshole in the diner he worked at because he was sick and tired of being underpaid by a cruel boss, picked on at work, and he just one day has decided he’s had enough. With what he WENT through now though, he gives up on his plan, destroys his gun, and signs up for an anger management course.
So was what the Green Goblin did the right thing? Well, a UTILITARIAN would argue yes, it was. But surely that’s not correct, dragging a rando around Fifth and Main with the intention of traumatizing the guy and maybe even killing him just to use him as bait for his nemesis is CLEARLY an evil act, even if it UNINTENTIONALLY produces a greater good.
So who do we turn to now? Let’s try Immanuel Kant. Kant maintained our fundamental duty is to act in a way that satisfies what’s called the “categorical imperative”. A formulation that states we should ALWAYS treat people as an ends in themselves, not MERELY as means. This comes down to treating people as always having intrinsic value, and never just using them for our own purposes as if they just had INSTRUMENTAL value. But remember, performing an action in accordance with the categorical imperative alone isn’t enough to make it good. You have to do it because it is your duty to do it! If an action treats an individual as an ends in and of themselves and the person performs the action regarding such individuals in way that indicates they’re following their duty of treating people appropriately, then their action is good. So treat others first as people, not as means to an end, and do it for the right reasons, not for selfish ones. It’s your duty to yourself, to others in Kant’s eyes.
So what are these “duties” though? Now we get into the weeds. There’s positive and negative duties. Positive is stuff like tending to the sick. Feeding and clothing the poor. Negative duties are obligations to REFRAIN from doing things that harm people, like assaulting an innocent person or maliciously lying to them. By doing our positive duties, we treat people as ends in and of themselves by showing them respect, and we’re fulfilling our negative duties by avoid treating them as merely a means.
Spider-Man dives into this sort of thinking a lot. It’s classic line “with great power comes great responsibility” is an admonishment for people to be careful with the powers they have. Those who have power have a duty and an obligation to help those in need. Boiled down simply, its answering the question of “But why be moral at all?” For one, if you fail to do your duty, there will be negative consequences that affect you, directly or indirectly. But then again, this can be questionable. Sometimes reason one isn’t convincing in a world where evil can easily bring profit and virtue none at all. So what’s the second reason?
Because it’s right.
People like Kant and FH. Bradley, another philosopher, have brought this up. Appealing to someone’s self-interest in the name of getting them to do a moral duty is basically missing the point. Them doing it for pragmatic or selfish reasons means they’re not behaving morally at all. You have to do the right thing BECAUSE it’s right. Not for some self-interested reward. But what if we’re given very strong reasons to do the wrong thing? Then doing the right thing would be irrational. So we have to make sure we’re not being irrational in doing the right thing.
So if reason one and reason two don’t work...is there a third reason? Well, yes. Let’s go back to Plato. Plato says “It’s the only way you’ll really have piece of mind”. According to Plato, a person’s soul consists of reason, of appetites, and the “spirited element”. Reason includes the conscience, and reason MUST govern the soul or the soul is discordant, lacking in harmony. But there’s plenty of people who don’t approach life from a dominantly moral perspective, so does this idea work? After all, even many morally upright people face temptation at some point, or give in occasionally.
Artistole had another answer. Virtue is its own reward. Being moral is a greater benefit to you than any benefit you might obtain at the expense of your good moral character. Unfortunately that doesn’t seem necessarily true,, the rewards of perfect virtue do not always compensate compared to the rewards for wrongdoing. So then what’s next?
Reason five! Doing good pays off in the long run. Now, if you’re a religious person, you may already know about this answer. It’s very similar to reason one. But we don’t have to accept it. It calls for some strong metaphysical positions about the nature of reality.
But then again, maybe it’s not a singular answer that IS the answer. Maybe the multitude of reasons given here are good enough. Maybe it’s a little of them all that explains WHY heroes should behave in a moral way. Why people should be moral and good. Ultimately, how you choose to answer the question”Why be moral”...that’s up to you, and hopefully, you can be proud of the answer you give.
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YEAR END FIC REVIEW 2019
This year I wrote:
The Dumpster Fire - a bunch of random ‘verses
to catch the golden snitch
we're young gods
all these delicate things
no peace, no quiet in your eyes
rip out those wings, darling
the little prince
interlude: world's okayest dad
—to the moon and back
as the moon bears witness (i swear to you)
ao3 tells me that’s 95k wc if we discount random teasers/snippets i only wrote on tumblr & twitter than we’re well over 100k.
Overall thoughts
I honestly thought I wrote less this year giving how many actual new stories I have up on ao3, but over 100k is still a pretty admirable job so far so I can’t be all that disappointed in myself. I don’t have an actual estimate wc on everything bc I post random snippets/teasers on twitter and than move the more edit and polish version on tumblr AND THAN i move it to my dumpstire fire collection if it fit. so like, i don’t know exactly how much wc i did but still moderately impressive given how profoundly lazy i can be lol /o\.
there were a lot of things i wanted to do but i didn’t get around to it bc i held myself back from committing to various big projects due to my promise/obligation to updating social media au :S. which i guess is good bc i didn’t add on to MORE WIPs but also depressing bc im stuck in a rut bc of it. i hope to explore more projects next year!
My best story of the year
“we’re young gods” prob my psuedo mad max post-apocalyptic wasteland abo au... GOD WHAT A MOUTHFUL. outside!pov has always been one of my fav narrative piece to write esp when im building a evolving world that come with it. i love a post-apocalyptic landscape, the fight and survive theme has always been a deep fascination for me plus w/ abo which makes it even more interesting. i talk a lot about the idea of kingmaker and the person behind the seat of power/throne a lot and i wanted that deeply in a lot of my ‘verses bc stories of movers and shakers of the world are always fun bc their actions have such HUGE RAMIFICATION and i always like politics and wars a little too much lol /o\.
My favorite story of the year
“to catch the golden snitch” bc i really like my veela!katsuki fic the most. prob bc it plays into adapting some familiar concept/theme/source (HPverse) and putting my fav spin on them with bkdk. i have always been fond of creaturefics in hp fandom so i knew i wanted to make another VEELAFIC bc why the fuck not. it also play into my fav trope of katsuki being something inhuman, dangerous, and beautiful and also SO COMPLETELY WHIPPED FOR THS HUMAN BOY ;D.
Most fun story to write
“to the moon and back” aka DRUNK!IZUKU FIC!!!! bc HELLO DRUNK IZUKU IS THE ABSOLUTELY BEST.
Story with the single sexiest moment
“all these delicate things’ or aka the panties fic bc unf i really like see man indulge in feminine things esp when they’re someone who had such a history of violence like izuku who had suffer so much hurt in his life; AND ON HIS BODY which are riddled with scars and i think should allow yourself to be kind/softer to yourself and things like panties are so DELICATE that idk i really dig that juxtaposition??? A LOT.
Most "holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story
“rip out those wings darling” aka mutual yandere fic i was originally given a prompt by someone but my giftee dropped out so I RAN WILD AND CAME UP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. idk i always like fucked up relationship esp when it’s mutually assured destruction kind of fucked up where they both equally crazy about each other and im all for that. fandom has a habit of making izuku being super creepy stalker but they make him violent rapist and that doesn’t sit well with me. you can make izuku creepy and stalkerish w/o playing into that kind of things :S. i hate how darkfics these days are like fall under that purview when you can have darkfic w/o necessitating sexual violence... like pls explore mindgames and emotional/mental manipulation more like man i think that’s much more interesting so i tried that with this fic. izuku doesn’t hurt others or hurt katsuki BUT HURT HIMSELF to manipulate katsuki to care for him and im like SO ABOUT THAT bc it play into his self sacrificing nature w/o me bending his characterization to make him into something recognizable and katsuki violent obsession and possession with izuku is ramped up but it isn’t sexualized but about ownership and wanting to izuku enough to to kill and idk i dig their mutual destructive habits about each other lol.
Story that shifted my own perception of the characters
i swear to god i don’t like the villain!deku trope. im more indiff to it than anything but the trope tend to twist him into something unrecognizable to me but when i was coming up about this ‘verse i wanted izuku to be a bit jaded and betrayed by the world/society but still SO EARNEST AND HOPEFUL about it even though his goals has twisted in a way that by saving it he has to break it first. somehow trying to true to himself as he slip further and further in darkness and i just find that kind of duality fascinating????? like how do i keep in character but make him fall and see his struggles b/t both sides and i find myself liking villain!deku just a tiny, A TINY more and open so much potential.
Hardest story to write
“as the moon bears witness” bc i did a rushed job on it and I HATE IT W/ THE FIRE OF TEN THOUSANDS SUNS. there’s so much i wanted to include but i fucked up and i hate how much I FUCKED UP ON IT. this is def the fic i regretted the most bc i knew what i wanted but i couldn’t exactly execute it correctly but instead of trying to think of a way to fix it i just let it go and i hate it and myself ever since than. UGH.
Biggest disappointment
"AS THE MOON BEARS WITNESS” for the exact same reason as above. i want to rewrite this so SO BAD and i will.
Biggest surprise
i didn’t have any surprise fics tbh. everything that i wrote is pretty much under my purview LOL but i found myself being more active on twitter the last half of the year and writing more threads (i.e. live writing) than moving it on tumblr. a lot of pieces i written on twitter was sudden for me and took me hostage but ya know what i go with the flow anyway bc what can i say im just a weak, weak girl w/ zero self control.
Most unintentionally telling story
maybe “no peac, no quiet in your eyes”? I think that idea slapped me across the face bc i spent a week getting really obsessed with asoiaf fics on ao3 and man I LOVE POLITICS AND WARS?? did i mention that??? i love dynastic rules, warring kingdoms, and a love earth shattering enough to move mountains and i wanted to see that so much so that ‘verse kind of happened.
Story I haven't written yet, but intend to
omfg SO MANY JUST SOOO SOOO MANY. i would really to get around to writing a full fledged fic of either surrogate au or sperm donor au bc i love that kind of unconventional family and romcom are like YA KNOW MY WEAKNESS.
Goals for this year:
like every year i keep saying i want to do tododekubaku fic and maybe 2020 WILL BE MY YEAR??
finish social media ch 2 before/around my bday of this month as a gift to myself a;sjdf;alsjdf lol
take on more projects that won’t land in the dumpstire fire collections
explore new fic avenues bc i always like trying new things and breaking in new genre/tropes bc why the fuck not
write all THE CLICHES and don’t let anyone tell me otherwise about my omega!deku loving ways
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Narrative betrayal, leaps of faith, and 15x03
Okay. I’ve slept so I’m going to put this out there. As painful as that Dean/Cas breakup was, it was necessary for them both. As a Cas fan I’m heartbroken for him. But I’m also proud of him. So this isn’t what I want to talk about. We’ve had months to prepare for this. This was something advertised in the PR as on ongoing plotline. It’s fine. Painful, but fine. So it isn’t my actual issue with the episode. What I’m stuck on personally is everything with Rowena.
What she “died” for? This is a temporary solution to their problem, not even a full solution. It’s basically “I’ll slow them down!” on a mortal level. But more than that, Rowena’s development is structured to be complete when she allows herself to be emotionally vulnerable and love again, to actively chase that. This is decidedly not what happened in 15x03. If a character is unable to develop into their “best self” as Amara put it when she did, then they are a tragic character. Heroic they can be, sometimes, yes, but also profoundly tragic. So if Rowena stays dead and has no action past this episode then I’d consider it not only a waste, but more importantly, a narrative betrayal. By design, that’s what tragedy is. So here’s where I bring in Billie. Billie’s death was structurally about the same in the sense that the writers decided she needed to die in order to become what was needed for her to complete her development, which was going from a person who wanted the Winchesters forever dead to a person who understood why they were forever important. That was Billie’s character goal and she only achieved it by being killed and “reborn”.
Notably, there was no foreshadowing for this, not for her to return not for her to complete her arc by dying to become something else, something greater. It’s a true narrative twist in the best definition of the term. So. Back then we simply talked about it as Billie having died and SPN having tastelessly killed yet another woman, and a POC at that. I want to say Rowena’s situation is basically the same here. It feels the same, rather. And I think I know how they must use her in the endgame, but it’s a piece of spec (that Rowena specifically will help Sam reorder Hell) off of a piece of spec (that the show is saying Hell as a construct needs to be changed) basically at this point. Unlike with Billie’s return, there’s at least a structural thread to follow here. And more importantly, precedent. So it’s like do I trust Dabb era to do here with Rowena like it did there with Billie? The answer is I don’t know. They honestly could have just depowered Rowena and kept her alive. But they didn’t. Killing her was a definite choice made by showrunning. And disposition effects execution. That’s something that keeps repeating in my head. Where Rowena’s head was at during all this seems pretty important to me. It’s like... I wanna believe, to speak well of SPN here, but like... I don’t KNOW. So I can’t. All we can do is wait, to take a leap of faith and hope for the best. Like Rowena, we jump.
It’s weird. S15 is so much of a retelling, a thematic revisiting across the board. Pun intended. Most closely it’s a retelling of S5 and S8, two points in which the show most definitely, by all accounts, should have ended. In Carver era and Kripke era women just DIED. In Dabb era, they are brought back, not forgotten, and often get upgrades. Free will is more powerful than fate. You can win the game by saving what you love. See how Rowena’s death doesn’t match these values? When none of Dabb era has been previously coded as tragic? Unlike Carver era? So it’s like... why stop here with Rowena?
I hope she’ll be back. But not as Queen of Hell. She should be back as Hell’s savior, wielding magic powerful enough to finally put an end to the unfairness of Hell’s torment and endless suffering. That’s an end that would be POWERFUL. It’s an ending, an upgrade I can only hope Dabb era continues in the tradition of upgrading powerful women into key positions within the SPN verse.
It’s a leap of faith.
#15x03#zerbe discusses things#im dying because ‘leaps of faith’ was my meta title for the shiro/keith stuff of voltron#and voltron ended up compleyely betraying its narrative in every way possible#writing this was like having meta PTSD omg#i’m having to tell myself i have more faith in SPN#simply because they don’t have the interference that VLD did#anyway ive slept on it and im not as numb and upset as i was#logically... i tell myself... she must come back for this plot and to finish out her development arc#here’s hoping#leaps of faith#screw the grand coven#spn spoilers#spn speculation#narrative structure
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Last Seen Blogs
silence-burns
Multifandom reader inserts.
lemme-touch-you
disheartened hobo
archxngxl
Blessed be the Daughters of Cain
lemme-touch-you
disheartened hobo
shibarulata
Shibarulata