#but i'm so happy with how it went!!!! and all the super difficult passages i busted my ASS to learn i fucking nailed !!!!!!

[hidden-highlands]

my concert went really well!!!!!! my whole entire flat + my bestie + my boyfriend all came to watch me play and smothered me in a massive group hug after it finished i feel so loved :''')

#it means the whole entire world that so many people came to see me play!!! #I WAS SO NERVOUS i was still shaking like half an hour after our performance #but i'm so happy with how it went!!!! and all the super difficult passages i busted my ASS to learn i fucking nailed !!!!!! #i forgot just how much i missed performing!!!! i fucking love music i love band!!!!!!!!! #kiwi speaks #positive blogging

[the-fae-folk]

hi there! i don’t know a lot about faerie folklore, but i stumbled across your blog and i was hoping you could shed some light. i had a super vivid dream that i was walking thru a cave because a spirit told me that if i got thru to the end, i’d find the loml. i got there, but then i fell through a hole that took me to what i assume now i faerie land (?). it was very warm & happy & i felt weirdly electric and energetic. i met a man ( faerie ?) and we had a baby, but then he and the baby disappeared. it felt like i was looking for my baby for years but then i got yanked back into the cave and i wasn’t allowed to come. no time at all had passed in the “real” world.

any thoughts on what the baby means? i can’t find anything online about people who have had similar dreams, but i couldn’t stop thinking about my baby. he looked nothing like me and his eyes were so bright green like diamonds (mine are brown). i know it’s such a long Ask but it has been driving me INSANE what folklore could say about this. THANK YOU !!

There are several different aspects that go into this dream that we might need to pick apart before we can really try to answer your question. Firstly, the fact that your dream baby did not look anything like you is a common theme in stories that surround humans that have children with faeries, or humans whose children have been replaced by faeries.

And there are many stories where humans have fallen in love with and/or copulated with a faerie to produce a child. Generally they don't end terribly well with the child having all sorts of odd behaviors and abilities. Changeling stories are even worse and usually contain rather gruesome depictions of how the child, perceived as a fairy trick, was brutally murdered. Now the dream aspect is a little more difficult to pin down. There are several possibilities about what could be happening. One, it could just be a dream. Dreams themselves take a variety of forms and are theorized to be your mind's way of not only processing all of the things you've seen and done during the day, but trying to contextualize all of the knowledge into the stuff you already possessed, and a variety of other functions that only take place during the deepest part of your sleep. While true scientists don't have a clear consensus on what exactly the point of dreams are, they do suggest that dreaming appears to be a vital part of normal human functioning, and that the mind does seem to take a lot of things you're processing and spin them into a narrative because narratives are what it's good at. We do this while awake as well, but with more restrictions about the narrative we allow ourselves to spin. Most of the time. However while i'm personally more inclined to believe the above, there are other possibilities. One might be that you actually went through the events that took place in your dream. Either in the past and you are now remembering the events through sleep, or possibly you are metaphysically journeying to other realms while your body slumbers. This definitely has a precedent. Take the story of Peter Pan, for instance. The Neverlands (yes, plural, it wasn't a single island) were an archipelago of islands that existed in the minds of children. Everything was all compact and close together so that adventures had almost no time between one and another, and that a map of a child's mind would resemble a map of the Neverlands, without any boundaries at all. And each Neverland would be different from another. For instance, John Darling's Neverland had "a lagoon with flamingos flying over it," while his little brother Michael's had "a flamingo with lagoons flying over it." In the story of Peter and Wendy, we learn that it is difficult to mark the passage of time as there are a great many more suns and moons in the Neverlands than at home.

While Disney's depiction places Neverland out past the stars of the sky, Barrie's description of its location is somewhat different. He only says that it is "second to the right, and straight on till morning." The children are only said to reach it because it was "out looking for them." This blurring of the imagination, of the fantasy, with the reality is what's vitally important here. Barrie didn't come up with this association of Faeries and dreams in a vacuum, no there were numerous novels, stories, and even plays that made the connection between the Fairyland of folklore, which had always been described as having a dream-like quality, and the actual realm of dreams and imagination.

Consider Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream". The story's primary tension is caused by a fairy dispute (over a changeling of all things), and this disturbance of nature, for the fairies are depicted as being closely related to nature, blurs the boundaries between fantasy and reality. The whole play takes upon itself a dreamy quality because at a certain point it becomes difficult to separate the dreaming from the waking. This effect is compounded upon by the use of the magic flower by Robin Goodfellow to cause mischief and confusion among the human lovers and the fairy royals. The mechanicals, who are preparing to put on a play for the wedding of the Duke and the Queen, are performing a play within a play. And when Robin turns Nick Bottom's head into that of a donkey, the other players run screaming at the sight of him when he comes to speak his next lines.

When Oberon orders Robin to fix his misdeeds and restore the lovers to their proper love, he says that their memories of the events will be as if it were a dream. When Nick Bottom wakes and finds his head returned to normal and no enchanted fairy queen making love to him, he assumes that it must have been some kind of dream. The play they are putting on is the tragic tale of "Pyramus and Thisbe", yet the mechanicals are so truly terrible at acting their parts that the lords and ladies laugh as if it were a comedy. It is important to note that the characters are actors who are brilliantly playing characters who happen to be bad at acting, and that the audience for the play has another audience, you, watching them even as they watch the play. As the play comes to an end, Robin speaks directly to the main audience, saying that if any of the shadows (referencing the allegory of the cave) have somehow offended them, they can simply imagine that everything, the whole of the play, was just a dream and they've been slumbering in their seats since the curtains opened. But if they did enjoy the story he's brought to them, and are therefore his friends, he invites them to applaud. There is so much literature that ties faeries and fairyland to dreams. But what exactly those ties are is purposefully unclear and impossible to pin down. One final possibility is that the dream is prophetic in some way. But I've always found myself to be somewhat skeptical of Oneiromancy as a practice. Not because I believe that such a thing can't be real, I have no particular belief about it either way, but rather because I tend to take a rather skeptical view of most people today who claim to interpret them. But who can say? Perhaps I am wrong. I hope that, if nothing else, this has given you a possible direction to follow in understanding your particular situation. Good luck, you'll need it.

#dreams #fae #faerie #otherfolk #folklore #literature #peter and wendy #neverlands #fairy #a midsummer night's dream

[ziracona]

Hihi! I am a super big fan of your works, especially ILM! I just have a couple questions for you (so sorry if you've been asked these before; I tried to look but I couldn't see anything on these, but I'm kinda blind lmao): how long does it take you to write those super long chapters (e.g. vs in ILM)? How many words do you typically write per day? How do you deal with writer's block and have you ever dealt with perfectionism with your writing and, if so, how did you overcome that?

Generally, the shorter chapters took a week, the long ones later in fic often took two weeks, but some of the really really long ones (IE Vs and Rainbow Connection) took 3-4 weeks. Which is still a insane turnaround, given those were book length. 😅

The rest of these questions are harder to answer, because the answer isn’t consistent. For most of my life? I have been able naturally to churn out staggering amounts of content virtually overnight. I went through some intense trauma at the end of 2019 and beginning of 2020 though, on through the next year as well, and it kind of broke me, honestly. I dealt with writer’s block many times before then in my life, and my answer would have been “Make yourself start, and after the first twenty minutes, it’s easier. Even if you have to rewrite a lot, some of it will be good,” and “make sure the reason isn’t you genuinely need a break and if it is, take one,” and “Watch/read/play stories that inspire you—that brings passion often faster than anything.”

That’s what’s worked most of my life.

But there are tiers to difficult circumstances. And I still haven’t fully recovered. I write, but I’m a lot slower right now. Sometimes I can’t at all. And there’s very little I can do about it, which is new and frustrating. I had commissions in 2020 (requested, not paid) I just never did, because I just physically could not, which had never happened in my life before, so I didn’t realize that fast enough to handle it well, and I think maybe I’ll feel guilt over that forever. — still, some advice holds steady I suppose. For any kind of writing block, the most common success I’ve experienced, even in extreme duress, is genuine inspiration. Seek out something new and impressive—movies often work especially, but whatever thrills you. Rp like d&d can help too. It can give you motivation that helps override the rest.

If it’s something more serious, like I have now, you need to find the root cause instead, and heal it. That’s a long process sometimes, but there’s really no other way, and it’s worth it.

Anyway, the Ziracona who wrote ILM had a word count per day I’m not sure of, but something disgusting probably like 7,000-16,000. Now I don’t really have one, because it’s not that I write slow per day, it’s that there’s a lot fewer days I can write. So maybe it’s steady. I dunno. Haven’t thought about it in a while.

For perfectionism, I’m sure I have, but that’s easier to handle. The best things for that are start out by writing things you especially like anyway (you’ll be less critical of your favorite tropes), get at least one friend who hyped you and is a good source of positive enforcement who doesn’t mind doing beta for you and you’ll be alright, and take a break after writing and editing before editing more, because the more you read a passage, the worse it will seem to you as it loses freshness and you lose energy. You’ll become unduly critical, but fresh eyes will see it more as it is.

Thank you very much for the kind words, and I’m so happy you enjoy my works. I hope some of that helps. : )

#ask #anonymous #I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable 😅 — it’s not an unwelcome subject or something just I think sometimes it’s good to have open #information about that kind of thing bc people don’t talk about it much and I know I’m not the only one who has ever gone through it #it’s nice for people who do to occasionally see they’re not the only one

[loveinkfanfics]

Hey girl heeeeeey!

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Hey girl heeeeey!! Thank you so much for asking!! :)

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

SMUT! I have no idea why, but I find it so. freaking. difficult to write it. I've gotten a little bit better at it, but re-reading my own smut makes me criiiiinge especially when there's such well written smut out there! Mine always reads as subpar to me. >.< I find fluff easy to write! Just the cute little moments between Juice/Angela especially! They make me so happy to write! :)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

This was hard to pick a passage from! But I picked this one from Ch. 53 of "She Will Be Loved":

"Angela was humming to herself as she washed something in the kitchen sink. Her hair was wet as if she'd just gotten out of the shower, hanging down her back and starting to curl just a little at the ends as it dried. Juice had seen this sight before when he'd stayed the night at her place back in New York. He'd wake up, and she'd be making breakfast for him and Raj. He used to watch her cook, wishing he could wrap his arms around her and kiss her cheek. Except, for the first time, he could actually do it. This time she was wearing his sweatshirt and cooking just for him.

"Mornin', goof," she said without looking up as if she'd sensed his presence.

"Mornin', beautiful," he replied. He took a few steps closer, leaning against the counter beside her. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around, trying to figure out where their boundaries were."

I liked the simplicity of the first morning after Angela and Juice's relationship went from "just friends" to...more than that. They're figuring each other out. They've been friends for so long and there's this new dimension there that they don't quite know how to handle. I'd originally written for them to kiss while Angela was still dating Esai, but that felt all kinds of wrong for Angela to cheat on Esai (even though he did it to her). It felt like I was tainting Angela and Juice's relationship by adding the cheating aspect into it, and it didn't feel true to Angela's character since she's super loyal to those she loves. Also, I don't think Juice would cross that line either. He's not the pushy kind, he wants her to want him, and I don't think he'd want to play second to anyone. And I'm rambling...hope that makes sense!! :)

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Oof. That's rough. I'm going to go with action. A lot can be said in the description of facial expressions, body language, and the like. Little touches, big actions. I feel like a lot more can be conveyed in action than in words.

Thanks again for asking @darqchilddaydreamz!! I had a real shitty day at work today and doin' this little deep dive was an amazing distraction! <3

#love ink answers #love ink fanfics #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

All This Time

"Honestly, Yesung," I smile as we wrap up at the studio, "I'm gonna miss this. I can't believe this is our first time singing together!" 

"It does seem long overdue, huh?" Yesung grins, sitting back in his chair. "We can always do this again, Lei. I'm happy to see you back in the studio after all this time!"

"You know," I sigh, "I think I am too." 

I hadn't planned to return to S.M. as an artist, but I never quite ruled out the possibility. I guess I find comfort in open endings. When I first went on leave, I started working toward degrees in a variety of foreign languages— the ones I learned as an idol— intending to return to the agency as a translator. 

Then, Yesung sent me a demo of the perfect duet and asked me to sing it with him. Being the perfect husband, Taemin encouraged me to do it. "One song doesn't commit you to a career," he said, so now I am here: reimagining my dream of being an artist. 

The days of nonstop touring and practicing from sunrise to sunset have passed; my priorities are different now. Here in the shade with Yesung, where the light is gentle, I am comfortable. I am not ready to take the next big step. 

"You're glowing, Lei; you were meant to share your voice." Yesung beams at me. 

I want to tell him that I am only reflecting the light he and so many others have shone on me, but I don't get the chance. In his next breath, he asks, "How's our little miracle doing, by the way? Do you think he's expecting tomorrow's surprise party?" 

As fond wrinkles form around Yesung's eyes, my heart swells and overfills with adoration. I shake my head. "No. Obviously, Mom can keep a secret. With time, Taemin has gotten better at holding his tongue. With Lucas, Donghae, and Heechul running around the house, though, it's amazing that the cat is still in the bag. I try not to question miracles." 

"That seems wise," Yesung hums. "Best to enjoy secrecy while it lasts; they still have a full—" he glances down at his watch— "almost a full 24-hours to spoil the surprise!" 

We laugh. Then, a joyful sort of pout— yes, I realize that is some kind of an oxymoron— pulls at my lips. I run a hand through my hair after releasing it from its ponytail. "Can you believe that Tue is turning five?" 

"No!" Yesung's hair falls into his eyes when he shakes his head. "Just like I can't believe that you actually came around calling your son Tue after all those times you scolded Kim and Lucas for using that name!"

"Having two Lucases around gets confusing." I justify my change of heart, shrugging. "Plus, my boy is unique enough to justify that kind of name!" 

Yesung repeats, "Unique," agreeing with a subtle nod. "He reminds me a lot of you, especially now that he's reaching that age you were when we first met." 

It's strange— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay. 

"Really?" 

Tilting my head, I study my lock screen picture. Lucas took it just last night; he immortalized the moment that Tue sat between me and Taemin at the piano in the den, and I don't know if I have thanked him enough. I squint at the photo as if that will help me see similarities between myself and my son; it doesn't help. 

"I think Tue is a carbon copy of Taemin in appearance and personality," I admit through laughter. "These days, he loves to watch music videos. He can replicate any choreography— and I mean any choreography— after seeing it just once. I've never seen anything like it!" 

Should the agency find out, I sometimes think and spark worry in my gut, they will set their sights on him. 

There it is— the reason why I am so reluctant to return to the stage as an idol: fear of drawing attention to Tue. It was difficult enough when he was born and everybody felt entitled to see him when he was too little to decide whether he wanted to exist under strangers' stares. 

What worries me most, I think, is the fact that I don't know when he will be old enough to make that decision. Five is definitely too young— Taemin and I agree about that, so we take great precautions to protect his privacy. Nobody who knows Tue posts pictures of him on social media; whenever he leaves the house, he wears a mask like we do; as Mom considers early retirement (and therefore takes on fewer group clients), her job has become primarily threatening paparazzi who consider releasing rare photographs of him. 

I have never cared whether people think I'm overprotective. I know too well of the pressures that come with living in the public eye, and I will defend my son from them for as long as I can. Tue is a star, and I know it's just a matter of time until he tries to follow in the footsteps of everybody he loves. I only comfort myself with the thought that it's not happening yet; it's not happening today; it probably won't happen tomorrow. 

"I've seen something like that!" Yesung's boast drags me out of my train of thought. "I don't know if you can still do this— I don't understand child prodigies all that well— but when you were a kid, you could play any song on the piano right after hearing it for the first time. Donghae said teaching you to read sheet music was like pulling teeth because you played everything by ear." 

Knowing that reading sheet music is still not my strong suit, I redden at Yesung's recollection. "Tue can do that too!" I want to brag. "He's the most talented person I've ever known, and he is barely five years old. He's the most gifted person I know, and that's saying something, given how many gifted people I've loved." 

Yesung nudges my ribs. "Why else do you think Henry was so obsessed with you? You both spoke the same piano language!"

"You know," I say, "Henry asked about interviewing Tue for his program about child prodigies."

"Oh yeah?" Although he knows me well enough to predict the answer, Yesung asks, "What did you say?"

"I said that he's welcome to see Tue and play music with him any time," I answer Yesung just as carefully as I answered Henry. "You know that there's nobody I could trust more than you guys— Super Junior— to lead Tue into the entertainment industry, but—" 

I squirm, and my stomach knots. "You know how I am. You know that the thought of sharing Tue— no— not the thought of sharing his talent and his sparkling smile and his sweet voice and his kindness— that's not the problem. I know that the world needs more people like my son. I just—" 

After all this time, my voice still trembles when I think about how cruel strangers are to good people. "I just wonder how well the world treats people like him. I wonder how much the world deserves people like him." 

Yesung rises from his seat to embrace me. His chin rests on the top of my chair. "I don't think anybody understands that anxiety better than your Mom." 

And it happens again: my love for Mom grows. My beautiful Mom. My kind Mom. My Mom who stood in the wings, my Mom who stood comfortably in my shadow. I always thought she was naturally aware of when to hold on and when to let go, but maybe balance was challenging to her too. 

Hearing Yesung describe our shared fear makes me imagine that I have grown to resemble Mom. Tears fill my eyes. I am always sensitive; especially about Mom, and especially around Tue's birthday. 

Before the first tear can fall, he is running to me, crawling into my lap, and holding my face in his hands that are so small, so soft— uncalloused and young. "What's wrong, Mommy?" 

Because the tears evaporate so quickly, I almost believe that they never existed. For a moment, when I cup Tue's rosy cheeks and give him my truest smile, I believe that I have never cried in my entire life. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my beautiful boy! It's all better now that you're here!"

Tue giggles when I push his dark curly hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. He's especially cute these days because he likes his hair long; he likes for the ends to tickle his dimpled chin. 

"I missed you too! I asked Daddy to bring me to see you and Uncle Lucas and—" his eyes— the feature that most closely resembles Taemin's because they contain all of the universe's stars— widen in time with the growth of his smile. "Great Uncle Yesung!" 

Tue transforms into a reincarnation of my childhood self when he abandons all thought in admiration of Yesung. He leaps out of my lap and runs into Yesung's laughing embrace. 

It's beautiful— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

I consider that on my walk to the doorway, where Taemin stands, watching the scene with a smile. His fingers trace absentmindedly at the ribbon on his wrist that hasn't faded with the passage of time. The color hasn't faded since he restored it on that night by the lake. 

"I'm sorry if we interrupted your work," Taemin says softly when he catches me staring. "I told Tue not to just run into the studio, but you know how he gets when he's excited: just a teeny tiny bit disobedient. Or a teeny tiny bit forgetful." 

After teasing, "I wonder who he gets that from," and earning a chuckle in response, I assure Taemin, "You didn't interrupt anything. Yesung and I are done with the song. We just got to talking." 

Maybe Taemin noticed the tears before Tue carried them away, or maybe he hears that longtime blend of anxiety and craving for peace that almost always reveals itself in my voice through our conversations. His brow furrows as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Yeah," I answer immediately because I always want to talk about everything with Taemin. I told him once that I would grow to trust him with everything, and I have; for better or for worse, I hold nothing back. Watching Tue throw his head back laughing as Yesung tickles his ribs just below his armpits, right where he knows he's most ticklish, I condition, "Later though. Smiles and laughter for now, please." 

Taemin doesn't press the issue. In the beginning, he was always in such a rush, determined to force intimate conversation, no matter my discomfort. Now, he must realize that there is nothing I will keep from him forever. Now, he must understand that everything will come to light when we lie together under the moon. He no longer races to the rising of the moon or the rising of the sun; he lives in every moment. I admire him for that. 

Taemin smiles and winks at me before fixing his sight on Tue. "Hey little dude," Taemin says during the brief break in Tue's laughter, "Mommy is done for the day, and she wants to hang out with us! What do you wanna do?" 

Tue runs to us from Yesung's side. He reaches for Taemin, knowing well that his father will waste no time in lifting him onto his shoulders. 

"Alright." Taemin squats so Tue can climb on easily and so he doesn't hit his head on the doorframe. It's funny to watch Taemin, who was once spoiled rotten, who is still a bit rotten at the core, literally bending to the will of a small child. "What's the plan, kiddo?" 

Tue wastes no time pretending to think about his dream activity. Although he sees his namesake almost every day, he declares, "I wanna see Uncle Lucas!" 

Trusting that I still memorize my best friend's schedules, Taemin glances at me. Luckily enough, I still know where Lucas is at all times. Some people jokingly call it twin-telepathy, but it's only through my nagging reminders that Lucas ever gets where he needs to be. 

"He's downstairs teaching a dance class with Mark." I look down at my phone again; I couldn't hide my smile at the picture even if I tried. "It should be wrapping up soon, so—" 

Taemin cheers, "Off we go!" and runs toward the elevator. Tue squeals all the way down the hall, and I wish more than anything that I had been ready to record this moment. 

Before following my boys, I linger in the studio to tell Yesung, "Bye! Thank you for everything!" 

"See you tomorrow!" Yesung waves both hands. "You're welcome for everything! Never forget that I'm proud of you!" 

I smile because it is impossible to forget what Yesung has told me since we met.

. . . 

Although Taemin, Tue, and I stand quietly at the back of the room, Lucas notices us immediately. 

"Hey!" His booming clap disrupts the class, and all eyes fall on us. "There's my mini-me!"

It doesn't matter that Tue is identical to Taemin (apart from the wavy hair he inherited from me); Lucas has called him "mini-me" since the day he was born. That's just a consequence of naming my baby after my best friend. It's a consequence I can live with. 

It doesn't matter that Tue sees Lucas almost every day; they always greet each other with wide smiles and open arms as if they have been separated for lifetimes. That's just a result of the bond they share. 

Sometimes, I think that Tue was born not just to fill my every void and fade every scar. He was born to be the best friend Lucas always deserved. He was born to teach Taemin that he is much more than an idol. He makes us better just by existing. I have never loved anyone so much— with my entire heart, my entire soul, with every part of me that has ever existed and will ever exist. 

I run a hand through Tue's hair before Taemin passes him to Lucas. This transition of our most beloved person into the arms of another dear friend occurs without the arguments that gave me headaches at the start. We have accepted it by now: Lucas is Tue's favorite person on the planet. 

I don't care much to challenge that title since it means so much to Lucas and since I know from experience that the role of the mother is special on its own. I don't know much from experience about the role of the father except that its absence painful in more ways than words can describe; I don't know much except its absence leaves a void that most will try to fill with anything; I don't know much except Taemin is doing a good job, and I tell him so every day. 

Now, I tell him by reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers together. This— holding his hand— has always been my favorite act of affection. It's crazy to think that, once upon a time, I would have hesitated— I would have refused— I would have denied the desire to reach for him outside of our hotel room and our home. 

Sometimes, like now, Taemin looks stunned when I touch him. He flinches as if my touch is frozen or scalding or electric, but then he smiles and melts into me a little more. Every time I think we're done melting into each other, when I think that we already blended to create the perfect human being, we take another step together. 

"Hey!" Tue leans over Lucas's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "It's big-me!"

"Sh," I instruct quietly, bringing a finger to my puckered lips. "They're practicing, baby. We're guests, so we have to be quiet." 

Generally, Tue is a well-mannered boy. He just forgets proper etiquette when excited, and nobody excites him quite like Lucas. Turning slightly pink in the face, Tue nods and brings a finger to his puckered lips too. 

Moments of correction are always short-lived because Tue takes instruction well. I wink at him, and he winks back. The thing is— Tue has inherited Mom's lack of facial coordination, so he blinks both eyes. 

The sight makes Taemin laugh. When I was a kid, I would have wanted to cry if someone (especially someone as beautiful as Taemin) laughed at me. Tue's lips don't tremble in preparation for tears, though; his lips curl into a gap-toothed smile. Oh, there's another thing my baby gets from me: a gappy smile! It looks much cuter on him; I almost hope he never corrects it with braces.  

Because Taemin laughed, Tue laughs. He always copies his father. 

Raising my eyebrows, I give Lucas a look that clearly means, "Aren't you supposed to help Mark with this class?" 

Lucas understands. Maybe his understanding is the result of (fake) twin-telepathy or— more likely— it is the result of having known each other for eternities. Securing his hold around Tue, Lucas softly sings, "Priorities change, Lei." 

Because I completely restructured my life for Tue— and that's much more significant than ditching the last five minutes of a dance practice— I can't argue with Lucas. I can only nod. 

At the front of the room, Mark announces, "Alright guys, we're done for the day! Great work!" 

I hope that he hasn't ended practice early because we have caused an interruption, but it's hard to stay worried when Mark's trainees break into excited chatter. The atmosphere in this room is unlike anything I experienced as a trainee. People like Mark, people like Lucas— they have changed this place. They have brought light into the rooms, and I— I think I want to help them. 

Then, I look at Tue, and I know that I don't want him to spend his days sitting alone by the vending machine. I don't want him to spend his days sitting in the corner while I teach trainees. In no way do I resent my childhood; I just want to protect Tue from the loneliness that darkened too many days. 

Life is about finding balance, I think. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the human. Balance between Lei the fearful and Lei the brave. Balance between Lei the skeptic and Lei the romantic. Balance between Lei the individual and Lei the wife. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the mother. Balance between Lei of the past and Lei of now. Some of these, I have mastered. Some of these were easier to achieve than others. Some of these are a daily struggle. Some of these remain a mystery. 

I'm trying, though; that's enough for me now. I am proud of who I am now. I am proud of who I will be tomorrow. 

I wave to Mark, thinking that he has always had the best influence on others. Smiling, Mark waves back, calling "Happy Early Birthday, Lucas Tue!" (and receiving a chipper, "Thank you, Mr. Mark Lee!" in response) before I follow my family into the hall, led by Taemin's hand, with the sea of trainees. 

We sit at the table by the vending machine. It's much smaller now than it is in my memories. Maybe that's because I've grown so much; maybe that's because my family fills it with energy so bright that I don't notice the empty seats. 

Sitting in Lucas's lap, Tue asks, "Did you know tomorrow is my birthday?" 

Lucas gasps, "Tomorrow is your birthday?" 

Taemin laughs at how Tue's face contorts in utter bewilderment. His lips part, his brow furrows, and his skin is painted a flustered pink as he whines, "I don't know! Is it?" 

Because everyone has been so quiet in discussing birthday preparations around Tue, he must not realize the date. "Tomorrow is May 29," I tell him, "so you're gonna turn five years old!" I wiggle five fingers toward his face; he laughs when I tap his nose with one of my fingertips, throwing his head back against Lucas's chest. 

"What?!" Lucas cries; Tue laughs harder at the overreaction before Lucas even prods at his ticklish ribs. "Five?! That's crazy, man! That's older than me!" 

Tue sputters, "No— no it's not! You're way— way— way older than five!" 

"I am not!" Lucas argues, dropping his jaw to feign offense. "You know who is way older than five, though?"

As if sharing the same brain cell, Lucas and Tue settle their sights on Taemin, who, tightening his grip on my hand, drops his jaw, taking genuine offense. “I am not! I’m the biggest baby at this table!”

When Taemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts his pretty lips, nobody thinks to argue. Lucas and Tue snort, failing to contain their laughter at Taemin’s expense. I so badly want to laugh with them, but I want more to kiss Taemin, so I peck at his lips. 

At the kiss, Lucas and Tue do not squeal in disgust like most little boys would; they squeal in utter delight. 

. . . 

It’s hard to find an alone moment with Mom in our full house, but I find one after Taemin and I tuck Tue into bed. Mom is setting up Finding Nemo decorations around the pool. We chose that theme for Tue's party since it's his favorite movie. 

Even wearing her pajamas with her hair tied up in a messy bun, Mom looks beautiful among the moon and stars. "What's going on, Lei?" She drapes a cloth over a fold-out table. "You're wearing your pensive face." 

I try to laugh at myself by saying, "I'm always wearing my pensive face." 

Because I have yet to tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung, my worries are a tangled knot at the forefront of my mind. It's a messy business, untangling the knot, and it's always easier with Taemin's help. 

Tracing my finger along Nemo's little lucky fin on the table cloth, I prod at the knot on my own. "I'm just wondering how you knew when to hold me close and when to let me stand in the spotlight." 

Mom stills to meet my eyes. "I know I wasn't perfect," she prefaces. When I try to disagree, she interrupts. "I'm human, Lei. I did the best I could, but I know I could have been better. Anyone can see through hindsight, in any situation, that they could have been better. They should have been better." 

Mom has this way of speaking that nobody can replicate. She acknowledges faults and shortcomings through a lens that is never degrading, never belittling. She looks at the past in such a light that does not inspire regret but instead inspires a better tomorrow. 

I admire Mom for that. I want to be like her. After all this time, I have not grown out of aspiring to be like Mom. 

"When I think about how you used to sit alone at that table by the vending machine before Lucas walked into your world; when I think about how you used to cling to the wall in the corner of every room; when I think about how I used to hear you crying in your room at night when you thought I was asleep— when you thought your radio was loud enough to drown out your tears with SHINee's voices—"

Mom's voice wavers, and her gaze crashes onto the table. Now that I see her so affected by past pains even in the happiest stage of life to date, I understand: it was never easy for Mom. She just carried the burden where I couldn't see it. 

"I always wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wondered if the spotlight found you because you walked into it or because I nudged you toward it. When you became a trainee and Donghae told me that Sehun said people were being cruel to you—" Mom bristles— "you don't know how much I wanted to pull you out of the agency. You don't know how badly I wanted to take you and hide you someplace where nobody could hurt you. But—"

Mom laughs— genuinely laughs— when I wrap my arms around her, thinking, knowing that a place without pain does not exist (at least not on earth). It's enough that she wanted to take me there, I think. It's enough that she wanted that place to exist for me. 

She asks, "Do you know that part in Finding Nemo where Dory tells Marlin, 'Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him'?"

I nod. Even though Tue often falls asleep in my lap by that part of the movie, I know it well.

"Quickly— maybe instantly— I realized that you are too special not to share with the world." Mom cups my face with both hands. She kind of pinches my cheeks because they are still full; they still make me look very much like a child. "This world would be a sadder, duller place without your light shining in it. I decided that if anyone out there tries to dampen your light— well—" 

Mom smiles, so I smile too. 

"I would work a million times harder to keep it burning."

. . .

When I tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung in the studio and my conversation with Mom under the moon, he says, "That's all very beautiful, baby. It almost makes me want to cry. But I still think Tue is way too young to be an idol." 

I have almost drifted to sleep with my head on Taemin's chest because the steady beat of his heart has always been one of my greatest comforters. I lift my head to narrow my eyes at him. "How did you gather from any of that that I want our son to be an idol?" 

Taemin squints, trying to make out my features in the dark. "I don't know! It just seemed like you were coming to terms with letting him wander into the spotlight, and I thought maybe it was my turn to be the voice of reason!" 

Even without the slightest aid offered by the pale moonlight, I would see the smirk curling his lips. "The last time I was the voice of reason was during our first New Year when you dropped your dress—"

"Let it go, Taemin!" I chastise, wondering how and why I let his sentence get that far before rolling my eyes. "That happened how many years ago?" 

"I don't know. Time is all relative anyway." Taemin probably feels like some kind of genius or the mysterious picture of a soulmate he was at the beginning. "It happened how ever many years ago, and it's still one of my favorite memories! It never fails to make me smile." 

I shake my head and lay on my back beside him. "We're way off track. Anyway, I completely agree: Tue is too young to be an idol. The agency wouldn't even let him audition until he turns ten. Even then, I'm not going to suggest that he audition. I'm not going to actively nudge him anywhere near that path." 

Moments pass in silence. Taemin rolls onto this side to trace patterns on my stomach. In addition to calming me, this gentle affection helps him organize his thoughts.

"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, as usual. "Obviously, I want to support him in anything he wants to do. I won't really know how to help him if he wants to be a doctor or a lawyer, but— well— think of how much we can guide him if he wants to follow in our footsteps." 

Taemin makes a good point. Having two idol parents might make Tue a target for bullies— I know that having a manager for a mother made me one— but cruel people will justify their actions with any excuse. What makes Tue stand out could double as a strength; I know having my particular mother made me stronger. Similarly, Tue could turn to me and Taemin and Mom and Lucas and his entire network of well-wishing idols for advice, and we would all be equipped by our experiences to help him in some way. 

"I'm so glad I have you." I roll onto my side so that my face is level with Taemin's and I can clearly see the night sky reflected in his eyes. "You embody that perfect balance between listening and advising. You always have. I love you so much for that. I always have." 

He smiles, and my heart flutters. "I'm glad I have you too. Thank you for trusting me and listening to my advice. I love you so much for that. I always will." 

Taemin creates the perfect atmosphere for honesty. With a glance, he encourages me to carry my darkest thoughts into the light. It feels like he is carrying them with me; they are less heavy this way. That's why I admit, suddenly on the verge of tears, "I'm afraid that I haven't made my love for Tue clear enough."

I have rarely cried since taking a break from being Lei the idol. My outburst must send Taemin back in time to the very start when I first cried to him under the moon's watch— to the night when the moon became ours. Back then, he was so careful. He resisted the destined desire to touch me, to embrace me, because he didn't want to frighten me. Now, he moves instantly, instinctively, to hold me. 

His lips meet mine for a second. After just a second, he tries to part, but I need him. I need him, and that hasn't scared me in so many moons. I need him, and I bring him back down to me and hold him here until we have kissed most of my worries away. 

We always keep a few worries because Taemin says they keep us safe. He thinks my talent for spotting danger is, in moderation, one of our greatest strengths. I'm good at seeing a storm cloud from a million miles away; Taemin is good at making a hurricane feel like an overdue summer drizzle. That's why we are the greatest team to ever exist. 

"Tue knows you love him," Taemin assures me in a whisper against my lips. "Anyone who knows you— anyone who knows us knows that we weren't really breathing until Tue took his first breath."

That's not to say that life wasn't worth living before Tue existed. Just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Lucas, and it was happier once he laughed and painted the world anew; just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Taemin, and it was happier once he handed me the moon; my life was as happy as it could have been before Tue, and it was happier once he breathed. 

Tue's breath gave me every beautiful wonder I never knew existed— the heavenly traces on earth that nobody can see with the naked eye until they have seen and felt and loved their child. 

"Does the world know?" My mouth hurts from frowning. "These past five years— have we done the right thing by keeping Tue off of social media? The agency issued the briefest statement about him, like, a week after he was born, and I don't even know if they mentioned his name. Mom deletes all leaked traces of him from the internet. Any time interviewers are bold enough to ask you about him, the agency pressures the network to cut the clip." 

They do all of these things at our request. 

Taemin wipes the tears spilling from my eyes as I wonder, "When Tue gets older, what will he think about the fact that his parents said nothing about him where the world could hear?" 

"Hopefully he'll understand that his parents loved him enough to protect him until he was old enough to protect himself," Taemin answers in a tone that does not belittle my fears in his effort to quell them. "It's not like you've been active on social media at all these past five years, Lei. If Tue ever asks, and I doubt he will, we can explain that you spent all of your time with him while I—"

Taemin's voice falters. 

One of his biggest insecurities— maybe you could call it a regret— is that while I walked away from my career the moment I felt Tue's life, he hadn't deviated much from the course he had been on most of his life. I never pressured Taemin to make a career shift in any direction; at every opportunity, I expressed my belief that there is no right or wrong move when finding the balance between family life and work. Needs vary, and I believe that people can adapt to almost any situation. 

Taemin's pace has changed somewhat over time. Early morning practices with Jongin became scarce after Tue was born; now, they are almost obsolete. He says that he likes to be home for breakfast and early morning cartoons. 

He isn't as excited about promoting abroad when Tue and I can't tag along. As you can probably imagine, some trips cannot function as family vacations. He swears that video calls before bed are not enough to fill the void in his day when we aren't there. 

He doesn't look forward to awards ceremonies like he once did. We agreed that Tue shouldn't attend events where strangers' cameras abound. He says that even if we did attend, he would be expected to sit with his group, not with us. 

The studio isn't his second home anymore. Whenever he has to stay later than expected, he comes home with a million apologies, a bouquet of roses for me, and a new toy for Tue. At this point, Tue has an entire colony of plush Nemos on his bed; he sleeps cuddling every single one. It doesn't matter how often I tell him that he has nothing to apologize for; he apologizes and apologizes and I know he will apologize again. 

I know that he feels torn between his roles as Taemin the idol, Taemin the husband, and Taemin the father. I just don't know how to help him. He made so little time for Taemin the human being that, sometime during the first week of May, he had some kind of emotional breakdown at the studio that compelled SHINee to delay the release of their new album. 

Deciding that he didn't want anybody to blame Taemin for the postponement, Jinki offered to take the heat. He told Mom, "Issue a statement claiming that I'm suffering from a gluteal strain after an impromptu breakdancing battle!"

Jinki's Rationale for the Gluteal Strain Story:

"The key is to tell a lie so outrageous that nobody can doubt it! Nobody will question a story about a literal pain in the butt!"

Anyway, that's why Taemin and I have swapped roles lately. He is taking his first break from being an idol to spend time with Tue. While they watch movies and play the piano and work through those online pre-school activities, I am dipping my toes back into the world of recording. I don't know yet what I will do in terms of a career, but I know that Taemin will return to the stage revitalized. He is remarkably resilient, born to shine. 

Knowing I can't alter Taemin's self-perception, I card my fingers through his hair and praise him anyway. "Taemin, Tue learns so much about hard work, passion, and dedication from you. He truly admires you in the purest way. He doesn't see the distinction between his father and his idol because you fulfill those responsibilities so well—so much better than I ever could— so much better than I was willing to try." 

I kiss the crown of Taemin's head as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "We're so proud of you. Don't forget that." 

"Thank you," Taemin mumbles against my skin. "I haven't forgotten. I just— I'm so proud of you for being Tue's mom, but I'm sorry if I pressured you to walk away from your dreams to carry my weight here—"

"Taemin." I nudge him until he looks down at me with wide apologetic eyes. "You didn't pressure me into anything. You didn't pressure me into anything at all." 

He looks unconvinced, judging by his pout, so I explain, "I have so many dreams! To be a genuine artist, to be a loving daughter, to be a reliable friend, to be a comforting wife, to be an inspiring Mom." 

I wrap my arms around Taemin's waist and hug him closer. "I heard once that growing up is a process of letting your dreams die one by one, but I disagree. Every day that I'm with you, I discover a new dream I don't think I have to choose one over all the others. I just have to find balance. And we'll find it together; that's what we always do." 

Finally, Taemin smiles. I smile. We can breathe again. 

He lays against me, and our chests rise and fall together. We melt a little more, and I— I can't tell where he ends and I begin. I can't remember a time when we were separate beings. I don't ever want to remember. 

"Do you want me to go on Instagram live to say that my wife and son are everything to me? Or should I air footage of one of Tue's baby albums? Or should I post videos and pictures from life with you these past five years? Or should I read our story where anyone can hear?"

Between each question, Taemin has kissed me. His lips hover over mine as he begs, "Tell me what to do, Lei. Tell me how to make your dreams come true, and I'll do it. I'll do anything." 

He doesn't understand that I am already living my dream. I don't know how to make him understand. 

"Just kiss me again," I instruct softly. Sweetly, Taemin complies. "And let's think about something special we can do to love our son on his birthday."

When Taemin and I tiptoe into his room early the next morning, we expect to find Tue fast asleep, snoring into his pillow while clutching a Nemo plushie. Instead, we find him lying with his belly against the floor, kicking his bare feet int he air while doodling on a piece of paper. 

While Taemin sits before Tue, I sit beside him and ask, "Can I see your drawing, baby?" 

Tue has never denied me access to his art before. I love seeing the smile that curls his lips whenever I express interest in his creativity. "Yep!" His enthusiastic nod sends his unruly morning curls flopping. "But I'm not just drawing something, Mommy." 

Taemin's brow furrows as he tries to decipher Tue's handwriting. He is at a disadvantage because a.) from where he sits, Tue's letters are upside down, b.) the note is written entirely in English, which still isn't Taemin's strong suit, and c.) Tue has chosen to write with the palest yellow crayon in his arsenal. 

Sweetly, Taemin asks, "What is it?" Leaning forward, he sets his elbows on the hardwood floor and props his chin in his hands. 

Tue delights in the opportunity to explain anything from why he thinks the sky is blue to why he thinks roses are the prettiest flowers to why Finding Nemo is the best movie ever. His face lights up at Taemin's question.

"It's a letter to Mr. Mark Lee!" Tracing his little fingers along his letters, Tue reads, "Thanks for saying 'Happy Birthday' yesterday. I forgot my birthday. You didn't. You make me very happy!" 

Tue turns the paper so Taemin can read it. "And look! I drew me here and Mr. Mark Lee here, and we have big smiles and party hats!"

When Tue gives Taemin his gappy smile, I can't contain myself. While Taemin takes the paper from Tue's hand, my heart explodes as I pull Tue onto my lap. Holding him around the waist, I pepper his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin with kisses; he giggles all the while. 

"You're the sweetest boy in the whole world, Tue!" I boast, and he beams at the praise. "Who taught you how to write 'Thank You' notes?" 

"I dunno!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Probably you or Daddy. You and Daddy teach me everything!" 

I raise my eyebrows, giving Taemin this look that means, "I told you so. He knows that you're a great father. I told you so!"

Taemin probably doesn't notice. He smiles at Tue as he returns the paper to his baby soft hand. "You're going to give this to Mr. Mark Lee the next time you see him, right? I bet getting a letter like this would make him very happy." 

At that suggestion, Tue's face burns crimson. In many ways, he is one of the most confident, outgoing people I have ever known; in others, he is even more bashful than I have ever been. In five years of knowing him, I have yet to figure out how he manages that degree of duality. Considering that Tue is forever charming — whether bold or shy — I am inclined to believe duality is another quality he inherited from Taemin. 

As he leans into me and hides his face in my shirt, Tue entrusts his paper to my hand. "Can you give that to Mr. Mark Lee, Mommy? I want to make him very happy, but I can't give it to him! I just can't!

Maybe I should gently nudge Tue out of his comfort zone, especially since there is nothing to fear about approaching Mark. Maybe I should take this chance to teach him that self-expression is nothing to be embarrassed about. I can't do it, though. As precious as he looks with rose-colored cheeks, I can't darken my baby's blush. 

"I'll give it to him," I promise, urging him to lift his head to meet my bright smile. "He'll love it! Now go to Daddy, alright? He's gonna help you get dressed." 

Looking down at his pajamas donning Nemo's face, of course, Tue pouts. He crosses his arms. He really looks and sounds like Taemin when he whines, "I don't wanna get dressed!"

"Well, you have to," Taemin says as he scoops Tue into his arms. Carrying him to the closet, Taemin responds to Tue's whines, "If you don't get dressed, I can't take you to your surprise!"

As I walk to the door, I hear Tue squeal, "Surprise?" Taemin laughs at his reaction. Tue's squeal and Taemin's laugh are the reasons why I smile when I walk downstairs to tell everybody that the birthday boy is on his way. 

. . . 

I push the curtains aside and from my side of the kitchen window, I watch Donghae carrying Tue on his shoulders in the pool. Following Mom's instruction to "Behave! At least around the baby!" Heechul stands beside them, donning a smile for Lucas's camera. 

The sight is especially comforting considering how annoying Donghae and Heechul were at the beginning. Apparently, when nobody was listening, Heechul told Tue, "Call me Grandpa, and call him—" he pointed a finger at Donghae— "Grandpa 2." 

Tue was too young and too sweet to understand that Heechul was up to his old shenanigans of competing with Donghae, so he followed the instruction faithfully, much to Donghae's dismay. 

"Don't worry," Tue said to Donghae's frown, flashing him a big toothy smile. "I'm a 2 too!"

I wish I or Mom or Lucas— since he has appointed himself the family photographer— had recorded the smile Tue sculped onto Donghae's face. I would love to carry a picture of it with me so I could show it to you and everybody I meet, saying, "This is my son's mark on the world, and it's the most beautiful mark anybody has ever made. He is five years old, and he has never hurt a living creature. He is five years old, and he makes smiles wherever he goes." 

My mental images of Tue's gappy smile and those he leaves in his wake are among my most prized possessions. I am admiring them when Mark walks in through the back door, carrying an empty bowl. 

His eyes widen as if he has interrupted something. He beelines to the refrigerator, muttering, "Your mom said there's more watermelon in the fridge." 

Glancing down at the platter of snacks I have assembled, I frown at the utter lack of watermelon. "I should have known that we would need more watermelon with you and Tue eating at the same place at the same time." 

Mark laughs, dropping the empty bowl into the sink. "Well, what can I say?" He grabs the bowl of sliced watermelon Mom prepared last night and tosses a slice into his mouth. "Little man and I have good taste!"

"Speaking of little man—" I smile at Mark's nickname for Tue as I close the refrigerator door and point to a pinned paper— "he wrote this for you." 

After setting the bowl onto the counter, Mark takes the page into his hand. He doesn't have to squint to make out the letters. "He's writing 'Thank You' letters? To me? At five years old?"

I can't help but smile at Mark's awestruck expression. "You made his day, and I guess he wanted you to know."

Mark's slack-jawed expression transforms into a radiant smile. "Can I keep this?" 

"It's for you," I repeat, nodding, "so I think you're supposed to keep it. See the little faces at the bottom?" Mark nods, so I explain, "The artist says the big one is you and the little one is his latest self-portrait." 

Mark smiles at the paper once more before folding it into his pocket. As we grab our snacks, we walk together to the back door. We stop once Mark asks, "Before we go back outside, can I ask you something?" 

"Yeah." There's something petrifying about Mark's quiet voice, so I hope my smile will encourage him to speak up. "What's up?" 

"You know how I'm working with the trainees?" When I nod, Mark continues, "As far as I'm concerned they're all set talent-wise. I only really work with them on dancing and rapping— Taeil is the vocal instructor." 

Based on what I saw in the final five minutes of dance practice yesterday, I agree. It seems that the trainees get better with each generation. "They seem like they will make excellent artists one day." 

"They will!" Mark beams, seeming as proud of his trainee's progress as he is of his own achievements. "I've been thinking about how else I can help them grow, and I think maybe we should spend time talking about, like, emotional wellbeing."

"That sounds like a good idea." I, for one, could have benefited from learning about that as a trainee. 

"I'm glad you think so," Mark says slowly, "because I kind of want you to help me with those conversations." 

My jaw drops. "Me?" By no means have I ever considered myself an expert on emotional wellbeing. "Why?"

Mark's head goes aslant; he looks at me as if challenging me to look at myself. "When I think of strength, I think about how you carried yourself in training when those girls were mean to you. I think about how you stayed best friends even when people watched you and whispered. I think about how you didn't fall apart when the media used to speculate about the idol who never debuted. I think about how you held your head high when people criticized you for dating, then marrying, then having a baby with Taemin. But mostly— " Mark smiles — "I think about how you changed your whole life for Lucas Tue. I can't think of anyone better to teach the trainees that as much as we love music, as much as we love being idols, there is a lot more to life than the spotlight." 

I blink, wondering how, when, and why Mark became so well-spoken. My gaze falls onto the snack platter in my hands. "I— I don't know how to teach anybody that." 

Mark sighs, dejected, and I compulsively admit, "But I want to learn. I would love to learn, Mark."

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs in through the open back door, asking, "Mommy, where—" 

His voice falls flat as his eyes widen at the sight of Mark. "Mr. Mark Lee," Tue stutters, "I— I—" 

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs back outside. 

Mark looks at me, raising his eyebrows. "What did I do?"

Making my way out the door and into the summer sun, I explain, "He's being bashful because of that letter. He gets into shy moods from time to time." 

"Oh, okay." As we set our snacks onto the table, Mark asks, "Wait, did I hear you right? Did you mean that you would help me with the trainees?" 

From their sunchairs nearest to the snack table, Lucas and Taemin look up. Tue has concealed his flustered face against Taemin's chest, and he doesn't perk up at the sound of Mark's voice; he retreats further into Taemin's embrace. 

Taemin meets my eyes. Although he is reluctant to pressure me with vocal encouragement, he offers a gentle smile that seems to whisper, "Go for it. You can do anything." 

Lucas, true to who he has always been and always will be, is much louder about his support. He lowers his sunglasses. "Wait, you're gonna help me and Mark with the trainees? As in, we're having a mini ot8 SuperM reunion?" 

Mark glances at me with apologetic eyes as he pops another slice of watermelon into his mouth. Once upon a time, I think I would have glared at anyone for putting me on the spot like that. Depending on who it was, I might have even scolded them. I can't bring myself to scold Mark, though; I can't bring myself to glare at him, and I don't want to try. 

"I'll help," I decide easily, "in any way I can." 

I guess I don't want to disappoint Mark's perception of me; I want to live up to it. I guess I want to believe Yesung— that I am meant to share my voice. I guess I want to believe Mom—  that I can make the world a happier, brighter place with my light shining in it. I guess I want to be to the trainees who Mark is to them, who Mom has always been to me: someone who works a million times harder than the light dampeners to keep their light burning. 

Tue lifts his head from Taemin's chest to cheer, "You can do it, Mommy! You're the best helper!"

As I sit by his side, Taemin raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that means, "I told you so. He knows you perfectly. I told you so." 

"Thank you, baby," I wink at Tue. I whisper in his ear, "Mr. Mark Lee loves your letter, by the way." 

Tue smiles and lays his head back on Taemin's chest. When he closes his eyes, he looks exhausted. I think he falls asleep in an instant.

Lucas follows Mark to the pool, I think, for fear of waking Tue with his booming voice. Thus, Taemin and I are alone with our son again, even at the bustling party hosted in his honor.

Taemin asks, "Are you happy today?" in a voice so quiet that I think he's whispering sweet nothing to our sleeping boy until his eyes rise to meet mine. "I remember you said, once upon a time, 'Life doesn't always go as planned, and I think that's okay as long as you like where you end up.' And I'm wondering again if you like where you ended up— if you like where you're going next." 

My heart always flips when Taemin quotes our story. "I recall saying, 'Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.'" I reach for Taemin's hand— the one closest to me, the one that isn't secured around Tue. "I still feel that way, Anywhere with you is where I want to go next." 

Taemin flashes a sparkling smile before puckering his lips, wordlessly daring me to kiss him. Because I am no coward, I accept the dare before he can even blink. And just when I think that this moment is too beautiful to pass, I hear it. 

The snapping of Lucas's camera capturing us in a photograph.

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[ifonlysj]

heyyyy i'm a relatively new elf and i loooove sungmin but i have a question. you said sungmin "made a mistake in the way he treated fans who were supporting and even helping out his wedding". what is that about? i only know that he got hate for marrying which is bullshit but what happened with supportive fans? thank you, love your blog

hey anon! as promised: here is my opinion about how sungmin handled the situation~ and please take it with a grain of salt and form your own judgement.

just wanted to remind everyone reading this that i still think sungmin should come back to super junior too! if there is something you wish to correct/disagree with under the cut, let me know nicely. we don’t have to fight, okay? let’s do this like civilised people :)

it’s known that leeteuk and heechul have acknowledged that fans would rather hear about dating/marriage news from the members themselves rather than through articles and rumours. this of course makes sense, idols who have “asked for their fans’ blessing” have seen a much better response from their fans than those who got “exposed” by dispatch/sasaengs/whatever. sure, this isn’t a blanket generalisation, but you kinda get it right? i wouldn’t want malicious rumours about someone i like getting involved with someone else, not because i am “possessive”, but because i think the relationship between an idol and their fans can be trusted so that you know, we can celebrate together and stuff.

there are also other rumours about the ‘controversy’ surrounding his marriage, but they were mostly cleared through an article on naver. you can find it here. it should be pretty accurate, because sungmin posted a link to it on his instagram as an instagram post. 

here’s something that i don’t know if it’s been cleared ; sungmin allegedly changed his signature by replacing the star he normally uses with ‘Mi’, which is a nickname for saeun (his wife). this part is really a little bit weird. i don’t think he should have done that, considering how the fan who requested for the autograph has a name that doesn’t resemble ‘Mi’ in any way or form. you can find the original post on pann here. look at it this way, you travelled all the way out and did x number of things and basically worked hard so you could meet someone you liked, and the person gave you gift, that was actually a secret message for someone else. that’s just... not right. again, anything regarding sungmin and the controversy has been grossly warped by people to the point where it is difficult to check if anything is right/wrong. correct me if you want. 

something else; sungmin’s apology letter was released ahead of his army discharge. he handwrote it and apologised for hurting fans by getting married before his enlistment. i think he missed the point. fans aren’t stupid. korean fans aren’t stupid. i believe the ones who are possessive and think they own him is a minority. but i think it’s understandable that these fans felt angered by how he handled it. he didn’t apologise for the signature and he didn’t apologise for ’sharing’ his fan gifts with his wife.

this is a difficult post to make and this part is the worst bit of it, because i’m going to share about why i felt uneasy about his marriage. i’m not saying i’m against it. i’m just. i don’t really know, i had really bad feeling about this when the news first came out. disclaimer: i do not pretend to speak for fans or for anyone at this point, this is just my personal opinion and maybe you disagree with it and that’s okay. this is how i felt about it in 2014-5 and it was a long time ago. with age comes wisdom LOL and honestly i don’t feel anything when i think about it now. 

i felt uneasy when the news broke out because of the timing of it. the timing was, quite frankly, quite terrible. there are some issues that made it worse that sungmin himself couldn’t control, but i don’t think it would have hurt to think it through a little more before releasing the news. 

sungmin confirmed he was getting married in between super shows. i don’t know what kind of impression that gives you, but i’ll be frank: it gives me the impression that he’s acting more individualistic and not putting his group activities as a priority in his life.

for international fans, this could seem like a shock to you. of course he should put his personal life first, he’s in love! he’s finally found someone he likes enough to get married, and we should support him because we want him to find happiness. that’s an opinion, and you’re entitled to it. but what we’re looking at is the confucian principles of community and society that are upheld by most of the korean community. this is a culture that mandates military enlistment laws for all males (with very few exceptions). so really, through their perspective, the outrage could be perhaps more understood. it is also important to know that when the news first broke, the general opinion ranged from congratulatory messages (that hoped for a better public opinion of idols getting married/falling in love), to speculations if it was a shotgun marriage and if saeun was pregnant. consider that sungmin had not enlisted in the military at this point. for korean men, entering the military is a rite of passage into “manhood”. it was already bad enough for idols themselves to still enlist, and fans were already dreading his enlistment. to suddenly spring the news of marriage on them? it made the timing of the whole thing even worse. what’s worse is that the fandom was trying to support them, but sungmin antis and even some of sungmin’s sasaeng’s gave false reports about the whole situation (see: rumous about the wedding, etc.). 

something to understand in korean netizen culture is that they literally live in a culture where paparazzi are so normalised and entertainment journalism literally puts out close to fifty new reports, news, and scandals out every day. on top of that, korea is notorious for their efficient, workaholic cultures that spares no time for research. imagine being bombarded with news about sungmin’s ‘misdeeds’ every week and every month. obviously your impression of him worsens. then he goes to enlist in the army, effectively disappearing, not making a statement until he nearly discharges, then going back to promote himself as per usual. you only have ten minutes a day, maximum, to see the news. you don’t have time to check for yourself on the internet what is happening. if you’re a fan, you go on twitter to check with the big fansites what is happening, and then you see that they are all quarrelling between themselves about writing petition letters. every single thing sungmin does gets uploaded as ‘breaking news’, paparazzi zoom in onto the other sujus’ “apologies” and “opinions” regarding their fellow member, and public opinion builds the impression that sungmin just doesn’t give a shit about his group. and remember! he’s literally getting married and having a honeymoon in between concerts, when the rest of the members are practising/rehearsing/working hard on TV to get more acknowledgement. gosh, sungmin really is throwing his group under the bus all for love... 

that’s a thought process i went through. i can hardly emphasise more about how this shit isn’t about me getting pressed and possessive about how he’s my oppa and he shouldn’t get married because i’m going to marry him one day. it’s not! it’s about me loving suju to the point where sungmin seems like he’s just going off on his own without caring about the group image. quite frankly if any of the sujus reveal tomorrow that they are dating someone, my response would be something like: “oh thank God!”, and if next year they say something like “y’all, we’re gonna get married”, then i would be like: “FINALLY!” because the sujus deserve nothing but happiness and i just want them to be happy after all the shit they’ve been through. [of course sungmin deserves happiness too. everyone does.]

i started rambling but... i just want to say that i really wish sungmin eased us more into it. the whole thing was aggravated because of how saeun handled it on TV also. sungmin enlisting right after was a good move, considering the damage already done. it would have given the whole thing to die down a bit, for fans to think things a little bit more through while sungmin basically removed himself from society for a bit. but while he was gone, saeun said some shit about how sungmin is really touchy and good with skinship, how sungmin drank 9 bottles of soju just to get the courage to ask her father for his blessing, and so on. that’s not right sis. why would you keep making headlines about your man when you should just lie low and wait for the hatred to pass... she then went on to like really controversial pictures, like the one where someone is slapping someone else. the slapper is labelled “international ELFs” while the one being slapped is labelled”K-ELFs”... that shit just ain’t cool bruv... obviously this started another internal fanwar, and i’m pretty sure a lot of ELFs have bad impressions of her. idk i feel like the sudden attention went to her head or something... why would you talk about alcohol... gosh...

anyway i don’t hate her or anything and i’m happy that she brings our boi happiness but i just don’t have a good impression of her... maybe she’s a really nice person IRL but you know, she’s a celebrity and we’ll never meet so i won’t pass judgement on her.

that’s... kinda it i guess? congrats if you made it all the way to the end. i just wanna rehash the point about sungmin returning to super junior. i think he should. he’s been away for long enough and i think that’s enough ‘punishment’, but i do think it would make it easier for the public to try and accept him again if the both of them just admit to what they did wrong in the past and apologise and then just move on. that shit is old as heck, i think. there’s what i think happened. lmk if i made a mistake or missed something, i wrote like 60% of this post thinking back to that time period and considering how, uh, i don’t live in korea, there might have been something i missed. the other 40% is stuff i searched online to double check, but you know. take everything that isn’t an article with a bucket of salt. lord knows how messed up everything is after those sungmin antis started spreading rumours and stuff. 

if you need a clarification about something said above, you can send me a (nice) ask and i’ll answer!

one last thing, i’m not saying what the sungmin antis did to sungmin (with regards to trying to kick him out of suju, threatening his wife, etc.) is justified by whatever i said above. i’m just saying it makes it a little bit more understandable. but it doesn’t make them entitled to such actions and i 100% believe that their actions are unjustified.

#Anonymous #answered #sungmin #long post #* #*txt #god i hope tumblr doesn'tmurder me after this #it has been nice knowi #uh #i hope this works out fine #but like my opinion so #uhhhhhh #it was a question and i promised to answer and this is how it turned out #will i still have friends after this LOL #damn #it's been a good ride my friends #gah #i'm nervous #don't murder me @ ELFs #we can talk

[timjohn5]

Freezing Moon - cap 3  Finally Finland FLASHBACK DEAD ON The day after my dream with Øystein I got up early from bed, I had my breakfast and I put on a simple clothes to stay in the same house. I figured I'd fix my bookcase. I walk into the living room and downstairs in front of the bookcase and there I stare at it for minutes before finally sitting on the floor and picking up a book that Øystein had given me days before that happened. The clock above my head was ticking, ticking and it kind of irritated me more than I'd ignore. I take some money bills from my pocket, from my sweatpants, and put them into the book and then return it to its place on the shelf. I'm taken from my daydreams when I see an envelope being placed under the door. I hurry up and pick up the envelope I had known so well these past few months. I open the envelope that in its verse contained my name, my address and a postage stamp from Norway. When I open the letter and smooth the white sheet I see written: "In 1990 a captain is brutally abandoned on an island. He stayed there for awful 3 years. He would rip his deer's neck and drink his blood thirsty until there was nothing more vital in the animal. The captain after these years was saved by chance by fishermen who went to the island behind treasures. Some are lucky. When brought back to his hometown, he was arrested and without conditions of freedom. " That was all there was in the note. I automatically close the letter and place it with envelope inside my bedside table along with the more than 200 letters with these messages. FLASHBACK DEAD OFF Euronymous packed his suitcase while I was lying on his sofa studying for an important test. He throws himself at my side putting the suitcase on the floor and hugs me as he can because of my position. He was properly changed and ready to leave the house, but before he wanted to say goodbye to me. "I'll miss you by the time I'm out." - He says holding me tight. "It's just one night and you'll be back soon." I answer without looking at him. "What will you do until I get back?" "I do not know, maybe I'll be right here." Maybe I'll go for a walk in the woods, see the moon. I like the moon you know it. Or I can do a review of my stories. - I can quit if you want. I can say that I am terribly ill and could not travel. Øystein says giving a kiss to my back. - For Euronymous drama is just one night. Just go before I kick you out! - I'll call you tonight. - OK Alright. - I answer and he makes a warm affection in my ear before getting up and picking up his suitcase. "Have a lot of fun over there." - It's a meeting about things found at sea ... I'm anxious. ... The morning after your trip I go to the library early to find out what is so interesting about the excavations in Finland. I was distracted reading a book about the country that did not notice the arrival of a boy right in front of me who sat down putting his backpack on his side and staring at me. - Finland? - the kid asks smiling at me as I notice the book I was holding. "Yes Finland," I say, smiling, and he seems to know the country. - That's awesome. "Then he gets up and leaves without another word. I thought it strange, but I do not say anything. A day later in Øystein's apartment, he had returned and I was now in his shower while he packed his bags for the trip to Finland. I lathered as he paced back and forth taking things to pack. "I brought things for the trip to Finland. Repellent against the insects that have too much there ... cold clothes because it's very cold there like here. Some food because I do not know what's in the restaurants there. "Euronymous walks into the bathroom and sneezes at the stinking repellent on me and walks back into the living room. - And your meeting like it was love. I say taking the foam out of my eyes. "It was wonderful and everyone was thrilled with me there. He said happy. - Look, look at these things and see if you like something you have here. We can venture out there and do wonders in those two weeks. Do you have hiking boots on the mountain? Øystein looked like a grown child running around with things in his hands. I finish my bath and dry myself by wrapping the towel around my waist and moving to the living room. He was wearing a long black fur coat in his hands. Hiking boots on the mountain? I say and he smoothes his coat. "This is important for us to walk through. It is full of mountains and does not walk to dead tennis. Wear this, my love! I put on the jacket and it was really very warm and soft. He finishes helping me with his coat and looks at me satisfied. As I turn to look in the mirror Øystein grabs me from behind smiling at my ear causing me to shiver with pleasure. - That's for when you're wet. - He says by running his tongue over the earlobe. "He would thank me, I swear." Did you bring dollars and Norwegian money with you? "Yes, everything is stored in my bag." I say kissing his mouth. My tongue asking for passage he granted very willingly. "Did you work hard while I was gone?" - Euronymous asks as he returns to his duties and I use to dry my wet hair. - Yes a little, not much ... I met someone very enthusiastic about Finland, but he disappeared. - Ah !? It is and who would it be? Øystein asks, and then I sense a moment of risk. His, jealous knocked on the door and he could barely disguise. - Someone in the second year. I say, leaning on the kitchen table after I finish drying my hair with the towel. Lauri approached me in the library. That does not bother you, does it? - No way. - He speaks the most I see that bothered him. - It matters ... - Toothpaste, brushes, socks ... -Ah! Opportunity appeared then ... I think we should be honest and sincere with each other. "I'm closer to him than he's bent, still packing the suitcase." I try to kiss his neck and then I'm hit with a punch that hits my mouth. Tombo to the side the sooner I recover, placing the hand on the face with the impact. Øystein might be soft, but he was too strong for his size. I go to him and we fall to the ground rolling on all sides. Soon he can hold me by holding my neck. Euronymous rolls around reversing our positions and realizes the mistake he made. He comes off me, rolling to the side and lying on the cold floor of the house. We spent a few minutes recovering our breath ... "Should I have left you uncertain?" Øystein is breathing deeply, and even as he lies down, he looks at me from the corner of his eye. "I do not think I should have told you my feelings." Sorry he sits down beside me putting his hands on his face and I realize that I had provoked him and resulted in that punch. I try to fondle her on the back, but he pulls my hands away and then gets up from the floor. A day later and I do my last tests in the college, leaving that day of the aggression aside. I struggled to continue to love Øystein Aarseth, but the things between us were cooling down gradually ... What I most wanted to do was to go to Finland with Øystein. I could not, hurt him. ... Finally the big day arrived and after a few hours by plane, we arrived in Finland. We got off the plane and soon a car was waiting for us with a super redhead woman driving and talking some instructions to us. - 2000 km of pure ice on all sides ... Water in the rooms of the ship. The only entrance and exit is by air or sea. This road starts from this side and ends where I'm going to leave them to catch the ship. - The woman said without stopping looking at us in the rearview mirror of the car. "Look how magnificent, a road that leads nowhere, great, Øystein! Euronymous does not answer me I turn to the other side watching the mountains in front of us in the distance covered with ice and the moon wanting to appear in the middle of the mountains. When we get to the hotel the car is parked and we get off getting our bags and entering the luxurious five star hotel. - Good morning gentlemen. - Says the guy who carries the bags displaying that smile that to me was more false than it appeared. - Welcome to Sweet Dreems! - Hello, gentlemen, I hope you enjoy your stay in our hotel. Can I see your reservation? The receptionist says. "Ah yes, I have reservations in the name of Øystein Aarseth. - Euronymous says handing in his hotel card and his credit card. I watched as the attendant looked at the computer monitor. The hotel was beautiful and seemed to be the most luxurious in the area. The walls were white, hospital-colored, with turquoise details and a few other decorations like vases and paintings on the central wall of the hall. I leave my reveries after Øystein registers and his reservation is accepted. We went to the room and soon the baggage handler came behind us. We entered the most beautiful and expensive room I have ever had the pleasure to put my eyes on. As at the entrance the walls were white with turquoise accents and an E-N-O-R-M-E double bed in the center of the room, next to a minifrigobar. I make a point of opening and there I find two bottles of rosé wine Wongraven Senza compromesso. After opening a bottle of those I picked up a cup that was above my head in a type of cup holder. I fill two cups delivering one, to Øystein after he finishes taking off his black fur coat as well. I hold the cup to him who grabs it and gives it a generous sip. I get excited and take a long drink too, savoring that delicious wine. - Here's a nice view. - I say excited for Øystein. - Yes, you do. There was a change in plans. Øystein says, picking up his small personal hygiene bag and taking it to the bathroom. I sit on the bed and pull out my suitcase, too. - How do you change the plans? Why this now. "I'm just packing my things in the hotel wardrobes. - A speaker decided not to appear and this will make things a bit difficult. - He gave up what? - Of the whole trip, he just had not seen. Øystein says, returning to his room. - And the next cruise is tomorrow so I'll have to repay it. "How many days had she been gone?" I ask him already irritated. I think about five days. Øystein speaks softly. He did not want me to get angry, but it was too late. - Fuck who gave five fucking days? Why did not you tell me this before? I ask, picking up the bottle and drinking almost the whole of it in one swallow. "I'm sorry I only knew it now. I got a message and I can not say no. You are an important customer. They were desperate, I could not say do not forgive me. "I can not believe this, Øystein. You bring me here and I come from all the goodwill of the world and it was to spend these weeks together and now you do FUCK. "I'm already out of bed, getting out of bed." "You can not leave me here alone in this end of the world that I do not even know. I already know! I'm going with you on this cruise. - Can not. It has no place because it is already complete. You can have fun if you stay here. Go take a walk, look at the shops in this town and I'll be back soon. Euronymous approaches me and gives me a kiss on the mouth. I try to push him away sooner to the sweet taste of the wine that is on his lips. After the moment of anger passed, I stared at Øystein and without blinking, he ran his hand over my ass and said I was drooling. He told me to turn around, and I saw him lying on the bed, naked and with his cock as hard as an iron rod. I was excited and shaken. - Come here! - He said. - Not! I said yes. Ah! Yeah, are you going to make it sweet now? I know you do. Let's enjoy it while I'm here and after I come back yes we'll enjoy the city together my love. Come on, give a suck here! - He said smiling with ease and debauchery. Trembling, red with rage, and dying with excitement, I still tried to resist saying that it was wrong for him to lie to me. Øystein stood up, took my hand, without my denying it, and set it firmly on his huge limb. I tried to pull it off, however, and he held it tightly over his hard throbbing cock. Then he let go, and I kept holding on and massaging slowly. He told me to kneel down and put his cock in my mouth. I sucked with a huge hunger, swallowing everything, despite the size and thickness I always took care of the message and he enjoyed happy. He told me to lie face down on the two pillows that were luxuriously placed on the bed so that my butt would be in position for him to penetrate me. Then he opened the drawer of the bedside table, took out a lube, had me put it on his cock, passed my entrance, and walked in very slowly. We took a lot of time in that mete, it gets hot, even because I cried, moaned and screamed horny. Minutes after he started penetrating, I already had spasms through my body. For a full time sex of variations of positions and places without leaving the suite. It was a wonderful and unforgettable evening. Even in bed, in the whirlpool, in the carpet of the small room and in the shower. In the end, it was past 11 pm. I confess that the excitement I felt was unimaginable. I entered so hard in an orgasm that I enjoyed without touching my limb. Øystein gave me a pleasure that no other woman could give me. And while I enjoyed, moaned, and shouted calling for him with every thrust, he thrust harder and moaned with pleasure as well. After minutes he enjoys in my interior and enjoy dirtying the bed of red sheet. We ended up sleeping in a hug. The next morning I found myself standing in front of the wharf where the ship of the Øystein cruise ship would leave. I was leaning against a railing when he appeared smiling and leaning there beside me. "How do you feel today, my love?" He asks, smiling at me. "Well, I'm fine, even though I'm still mad at you, but I'm fine. I say kissing his nose. "Here, take this while I'm gone. It had served you more now than it did me. - Euronymous extends his black leather jacket. This jacket was the one he never took from his body. It looked like he had been born stuck in it. Finally he would give that jacket to me. I take it from his hands and he gives me one more passionate kiss before turning his back and heading towards the ship and hop on board.

#Euronymous Dead DeadMous ♥