#frankly im just for ugly clothes in general because im tired of looking at the same types of faces/outfits/whatever

[sanstropfremir]

Hey love, hope you're having a nice day

My mom strongly believes Taemin has a thing for using some sort of element to cover his head in most of his MVs. Obviously we're both too dumb to catch the symbolism (if any) so I thought why not ask someone who knows?

So what do you think? Is there any deep reason behind the head bags or is it just an aesthetic thing?

anon!!!! mwah!!! i'm having a better day because you sent this in!!!!

your mom is right, taemin absolutely has a thing for covering his head, specifically his face! you can see masks and/or veils (under the cut):

in the hit the stage performance of sayonara hitori

in the offsick concert teaser

in the nippon budokan performance of i’m crying

in the move mv here (there are several shots from this scene), and here

in the want mv here

there’s a quick shot of him pulling off a veil in criminal

and of course, advice. and again.

also some other images:

1. from the ngda act 1 promo photos

2. from the 2kids promo photos

3. from the move album scans

4. the cover of ngda act 2 messiah version

5. an actual bag over his head in the criminal mv

6. from the most recent short vcr in the ngda beyond live

7. from the sayonara hitori album scans

this is not an exhaustive list because i know i’ve missed some; i'm 80% sure there was a mask with the red outfit in the ngda act 1 scans but this is enough examples i think to show that it’s definitely deliberate. and i'm not even bringing up all the times he physically covers his face with a body part or it’s obscured through an effect, because then we gotta talk about the famous choreography, the idea choreography, the just me and you vcr, and countless promo photos and album scans from essentially every era in his entire solo career.

the backbone of the kpop industry in its current state is the idols' faces. human nature has proven time and time again that the easiest way to catch an audience is through a pretty face (by whatever the standards are at the time), and in an industry built on militant commercialism, of course the emphasis is going to be on those faces. you can see it in every bit of content. turning physical albums into mass collectibles, with multiple versions, giant photobooks, photocards. an idol’s face IS their uniform. when an idol doesn’t want to be seen, what's the first thing they do? cover their face. (and people still take pictures of them anyways). i’ve seen countless times on vlives and ig lives where an idol is wearing a mask and there will be a stream of “show us your face <3”’s until they do. their face is their brand. every decision a stylist, a publicist, a company makes is to optimize exactly how beautiful they can make their idols look, because that’s by and large what the fans want. obviously it's a product of the larger trend in unattainable beauty standards fueled by social media, but i'm not going to talk much about that, because it's a lot. if you’ve followed me for long enough (probably just for more than a few days tbh, since i talk about it constantly), you’ll have noticed that i'm a huge proponent of ‘ugly’ hair trends, and i'm a huge proponent of ugly styling in general. when idols have to be fashion models as well as inhuman performing machines, you’re setting them up to everything that plagues that industry as well, which means massive complexes about their faces and bodies, in the most mild of terms.

‘ugliness’ has freedom in it. part of the reason why i’ve gone extra insane for advice as a whole is because it IS ugly. taemin’s extensions ARE awful. his hands are blackened and dirty the whole mv, and so are portions of his body. he’s visibly flaunting his real tattoos*, which are still deeply stigmatized in the east. we see him get in a car crash. in arguably the most flattering/conventionally attractive outfit, he’s got heavy mascara tear tracks. the song isn’t particularly melodic, the choreography is childish and jerky, the lyrics directly call out the people that treat him like an object. and of course, the mask. all of these are cracks in the facade, confronting us, on purpose, with the crumbling of his perpetually pretty, perfect persona. he's hurt, he's angry, he's got his hands deep in the grime of living in the public eye that the public refuses to see, and now he's going to smear it all over himself until you DO see it. at the end of the mv his triumph is not that he washes himself clean, but that he paints overtop. gesso on an old canvas; a fresh start, but fundamentally informed by the things underneath.

taemin uses masks as a way to deface himself. both in the literal sense of removing his face from the equation but also in the synonomic sense of the destruction, the obliteration, the vandalization of himself. of his brand. known as sm’s pretty boy since he was 14, who is he if he doesn’t have his face?

as a general device the masks are an entreaty to address him on his own artistic merit. but they do often have specific meanings within their contexts. in the i’m crying performance it is to remove himself as an entity all together; he is anonymous now, an unseen narrator to the performers on stage.** in move and want it’s for emphasis on his body; proof that he can still ensnare you with his limbs alone. pulling off the veil/reversing it back on in criminal as a revealing/concealing of the two sides of himself on display in the mv. the literal suffocation of one of those sides with a plastic bag. the voice in idea says ‘you are my messiah,’ but the cover of the album denies confirmation of that identity.

there’s more to be dug into here, especially with the ngda act 2 photos but i’d have to go back through my catholic iconography notes again and this would be a lot longer than it already is. i’m also looking at this from a western perspective, there are undoubtedly double meanings specific to a korean context that i haven’t clocked. but that’s the reason i love his work so much! it stands up to a lot of rigorous analysis and there’s always going to be something that i don’t catch right away, something more to learn.

---

* we learned like yesterday that his hip tattoo is a peony, which he named as symbolizing freedom. peonies tend to have primarily positive meanings across east asian cultures, but in victorian floriography, they mean shame and sometimes anger.

** this style of performance is very common in cirque du soleil shows, especially the older ones from the early 2000s. it's pretty common to have a ballad or operatic singer featured as a ‘narrator’ to a specific story section of routine. i’m sure this is probably frequent in other places as well, but i’m naming cirque specifically because that’s where i’ve seen it the most, and also because there is an actual circus performer on stage during this. plus there’s a guy in a pierrot costume, who is probably the most famous clown***. (although the costume is technically wrong because pierrot is supposed to be unmasked. (ironic plays loudly in the distance))

*** clown of the technical variety and not clown of the honk honk birthday variety.

#taemin #im not just saying i like ugly hair because i have a neon orange mullet with an undercut #but also i do have a neon orange mullet with an undercut so that should give you a pretty good indication of my opinions #frankly im just for ugly clothes in general because im tired of looking at the same types of faces/outfits/whatever #thats been propagated by instagram and tiktok #also by celebrity culture and beauty standards in general #that being said none of what taemin is doing is actually ugly ugly #he definitely has waaaaay too much pride to deface himself physically that far and i doubt sm would ever allow it #this is just looking at his public persona and how it interacts with his art #his solo career in particular i think you would be hard pressed to find anything of shinee's that covers their faces #the odd concept photos are the only ones i can think of that come close #i think youd be hard pressed to find any group that willingly has covered or distorted faces in their main promotional material #without the purpose of like 'oh who is this going to be~~~' surprise type reveals #ok tags and the post are very long now i will stop #anon please give your mom a kiss for me i think it sweet you talk about kpop with her!!! #taemin meta #kpop analysis #text #anonymous #fun additional fact about me which is very indicative of my current path in life #i used to make my parents tape cbc broadcasts of cirque shows #those tapes and art attack were the only tv i watched with any consistency until i was like #12 #i didnt watch a single disney movie until i was like 14 maybe? #did watching only art attack and cirque irreparably fuck me up as a child? yea probably #but at least i dont have a sentimental relationship to the disney corporation so i won in the long run #kpop questions #group analysis

[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

#genshin impact #genshin impact hc #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kitsune reader #yandere scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #reader x scaramouche #scaramouche angst #writing #angst