#innate superiority

[teamfortresstwo]

In a life swap AU rather than just a role swap I think it would be sooo fucked up if Patroclus swapped with Theseus and Achilles with Asterius

[andersdotters]

If you’re into enneagram and you’d like a bit more of a behavioral study on 9s, a good character study would be comparing the differences between Kazuha (9w1 sp/so) and Alhaitham (9w8 sp/sx). Both characters prefer not to have their peace of mind interrupted, but they deal with this in different ways.

[godblooded]

trans writers are just better at body horror because the trans experience innately sometimes feels like it’s just body horror.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

ppl will be explaining how a difference is a difference & not a Deviation from a Superior state, & people who are the ones considered Default Normal (superior) will be like "okay....to be polite....i Might say i consider Some aspects of Some people's existence mere 'difference' & not being less than me...." as like hey i'm a Benevolent god. i still actually get to consider you worse & don't have to "humor" anything that challenges my superiority. if you only want everything to fit into the norm then it will all come back to upholding the norm. thinking of people's analysis of their own realities as equally legimate as being like Obscure, Irrelevant, Superficial & then using that reasoning to justify dismissing them. same as worrying that the [Different Lessers (Others(tm))] as Everywhere = a manifestation of the awareness that, yeah, respecting them as equals Does threaten your norm which is smothering everything everywhere. ppl who need to lock in the idea of Borders around personhood like um Yes they're all delineated separate Identities outside any hierarchy & so i think it's relevant to for some reason push back against "ohh so now Everyone's queer" like why not. why couldn't they be. what if they were. what if queerness was everywhere b/c it's ideological not a cordoned off Alternative Identity that is accommodated by focusing on Love(tm) as the new border around whose existence we might begrudgingly accept at arm's length (i.e. being otherwise "normal"! just imagine swapping out the binary gender (or, deep breath, presumed Private Parts) of one partner in an exclusive romantic lifelong nuclear family marriage, & that is Gay / Trans Rights. still gross but maybe we can do it, as long as they don't talk about it or shove it in our faces or even exist for more than one encounter w/us in our lives b/c what are the odds). evergreen laughing at someone suggesting ableist logic might be embedded in language of past & present b/c it's just So little to ask for that it's irrelevant but it's also So much to ask for that of course i'm not gonna do anything more than pass it along like "this is why i don't take ableism seriously" like yeah it's the disabled randos like it's the individual cringe teens(tm) ruining [the cishets would take Gender seriously otherwise!!!] & that's why you won't think about it or do anything about it & continue being comfortable with the norm & resent that actually their Difference is Less & disability is something worse that ppl "excuse" & all these ways that people are & all these things that they do are funny & weird & inexplicable & etc & one can't possibly be cruising along perpetuating a hierarchy with a sense that you're reasonable, well meaning, kind, etc etc & thus Justified, systemic oppression definitely wants to maximize how uncomfortable & arduous it feels to everyone rather than push to make it more streamlined & rewarding to embrace, or at least accept, whatever superiority over others you're afforded

[crippledanarchy]

So much of American exceptionalism has its origins in supercessionism.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

I've reblogged a couple memes with that "I believe in ____ supremacy" joke, but like, I don't trust like that in terms of people joking about being a ____ supremacist even if it's a dumb fandom thing. Like a few memes that can't be construed as being about race is one thing but putting (ship) supremacy in your bio or making your URL (character)supremacy has me like "damn you're real comfortable being thought of as a supremacist, aren't you?"

[beeapocalypse]

AH i havent talked abt the frontierists here have i. very secretive sect of alamanni humans looking into Dreamed Realities (pocket realities born by dreams- the purposeful creation of them by eldritch deities Is possible but is also considered way blasphemous. near every dreamed reality by alamanni folk is born of essentially the most advanced form of maladaptive daydreaming possible and is unintentional. way hard to discern between them and real vivid Normal dreams). humanitys predecessors (taught the secret of intentionally dreaming up new lands by a select few eldritch beasties seeking refuge from the rest) sought refuge in a dreamed reality to get away from both the incessant typically deadly curiosity of the vast majority of eldritch deities and their incredibly shit living situation (forced into subterranean living bc of the whole corpse of the existence dragon and all of its curious parasites hanging up in the sky staring down at them, resources running low over the years with them unable to leave for more bc of the venettes- already sentient animals transformed into more human shapes by the eldritch in an attempt to get closer to that hidden race) and their shed mortal bodies upon successful exodus became the first humans so theyve got this tiny innate knack for intentional exploration that other alamanni folk dont. through the gathering of just abt every bit of still surviving texts on dreamed realities (WAY sparse, both thru the passage of time + the fact that those first eldritch deities desperate enough to part with such secrets were long killed by their more pious fellows), the frontierists understand the mechanics of it all Just enough to be able to deliberately enter and explore this 'final frontier' which they seek to put to page and Conquer

[clowndensation]

reading a post ranking dnd classes from most to least sexy and seeing them put wizard at the top and artificer at the bottom. like okay. we were put onto this earth to hunt each other down until only one of us remains, though.

[ladyofloptyr]

my thoughts aren't organized enough to put this in the tag or call it an essay proper by any stretch, but i haven't felt so deeply saddened or moved by a character in a while!!!

maybe it's the fact that i'll always have a soft spot for mutually self-destructive relationships in fiction where it won't work out even if both characters want it to.

i was just struck by how isolated ugetsu was and while that's not a justification for how he lashes out, i was heartbroken that his raw talent could elicit such strong feelings of envy from those around him including people that genuinely admired and loved him.

aki was always comparing himself to ugetsu and used it as a justification to not bother trying to reach greater heights even though ugetsu didn't want him to quit. i have no intention of demonizing aki for this, but it devastated me how this view of ugetsu alienated him.

that ugetsu's very existence was a detterent to aki's own passion for music. nearly every other relationship in given is one where both sides are inspired by the other instead of demotivated.

ugetsu for his part ofc could be vicious with his criticisms and i didn't miss how he often used his words to further tear down aki in a twisted attempt at self-sabotage. however, i think the way he treats mafuyu demonstrates that he is more than capable of giving people their accolades.

i can't imagine how frustrating it must be to want to pursue a passion for music knowing that the person you love feels lacking and uses you as a scapegoat. no wonder ugetsu felt as though he had to choose between love or music.

[averagemrfox]

The house of grief fucking sucks lmao

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

drums

[fuck3dupkinks]

We are woman, and as women, we have holes. But more than that, we have a sort of mental and spiritual gap and incompleteness. We always feel some sort of emptiness deep inside. An emptiness that only goes away with the help of a man.

There’s a reason girls are always fantasizing about meeting our Prince Charming from a young age. There’s a reason we constantly talk with our friends about guys. There’s a reason we are stereotyped as being boy crazy. Because we need men, and we know it.

Men complete and fulfill us, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Dumb feminists may try to deny it, but deep down they know. We need men. They are superior to us. We can only be made whole through service to men. We are miserable without them. We have an innate drive to obey them.

Throughout history, throughout all societies, women have taken on a subservient role. We have taken on supporting roles wherein we aid the men, but don’t do the real work ourselves.

The desire to serve and obey men is natural in all of us. Denying this simple fact only leads to misery. Studies have shown women aren’t actually any happier in more gender equal countries. With the advancement of feminism, even more people, men and women, are depressed and miserable. We can help solve this issue. All we need to do is accept the truth, drop to our knees, and worship men. Our superiors. Our betters. Our gods.

[mimimimiaa]

tune in to you ──── 한태산

pairing: music composer! taesan x radio rj! reader genre: opposites attract (extroverted sunshine character reader and socially awkward taesan), pining, secret identity, slowburn, fluff, workplace romance (kind of?) synopsis: taesan went by his days quietly, producing and composing tracks for television shows and films in the comfort of his studio at his broadcasting company. but one day, when he tunes into the radio show you hosted a few floors above his own, the opportunity to call in as an anonymous listener presents itself to him, and his curiosity towards you, along with his want for something more in life, all bubble over into a decision which he’ll probably regret later. word count: 10.1 k warnings: mentions of food, kind of loser taesan, reader is mentioned to be shorter than taesan

With bated breath, the young girl hides behind the kitchen counter, hand pressed tightly against her lips, praying to whichever god who could help her in this dire moment of life and death. However, her prayers seem to be disrupted by the shuffling footsteps behind her, followed by what could only be described as maniacal laughter. Each second seemed to drag on as all she could do was curl up her small frame into the marble kitchen island, hoping that the man who’d been after her for hours would not notice her trembling body and futile attempts to silence her ragged breath.

‘Come out little lamb, let’s play!’

The voice, shrill and wicked, rings through the large kitchen. It’s like her heartbeat has turned into an unsteady tune of snares. As his footsteps grow louder and louder, it’s like an orchestra of sounds has made themselves home in her head, buzzing in her ears. First comes the percussion, slow and steady, setting the beat,  followed by, in all their grandeur, the strings, building up the tension as the laughter seems to move eerily closer to the shivering girl. Finally joined by the brass and woodwind, the music keeps blaring around the two figures, or maybe it was the rush of blood in her ears causing her to imagine things. The music crescendos. And then. Silence.

‘Peekaboo, little lamb!’

As the drum set builds up in intensity, his deranged laughter is the last thing she hears before the knife twisted into her abdomen slowly takes away the last of her shallow breaths. 

Heaving a sigh of satisfaction, Dongmin takes off his headphones to let them rest on his shoulders, leaning back into his swivel chair as he stretched out his arms after a long day’s work. The deadline for the third episode of the drama series was quickly approaching, so he saved his draft and sent it to his superior to examine before it slipped his mind again. 

Heaving a deep breath, he let his eyes scan the small studio that had become a second home to him in the past few years.

Being a music production engineer had never been Dongmin’s dream. He’d always loved music and sound in general, sure, but when he meant being part of the music industry, he meant singing, writing his own songs, and most of all performing, and being able to convey his emotions to thousands in the form of heartbreak songs and serenades.

 But when his Soundcloud musician dreams slowly came crashing down, he never expected to end up cooped up in a little studio, barely knowing when day turns to night, composing the backtracks to movies and television shows that graced the screens of thousands nationwide.

But that’s not to say that Dongmin hated his job though, despite his scepticism when his long-time mentor and advisor Jiho recommended the post as his junior at the broadcasting company. In the past few years, Taesan had developed an innate appreciation towards the sounds and music accompanying each scene of any show, movie or broadcast; setting the mood and portraying emotions far better than words could. 

Sometimes, it almost felt akin to magic; the way music was able to transform one scene from an adorable romantic scene between two inseparable lovers to one of chilling fright and unspeakable terrors, or even intangible and unbearable sorrows. In his own way, the job made him fulfil his dreams of touching the hearts of thousands, though not quite the way he expected. 

But in the sanctuary of his little studio, surrounded by instruments and production tools, he had to admit that sometimes when the brain fog got to him, and his fingers seemed trapped on a single key of his synth, unable to think of the next, the days seemed to stretch infinitely and felt unbearably mundane. But that never became a problem for too long as the few friends he had made in his time at KOZ Broadcasting Corporation always found a way to make his days better. Speaking of them, they should be crashing into the room right about…

‘HYUNG!! YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I COVERED ON THE FIELD TODAY!’

As the journalism intern came tumbling into the room panting, catching his breath, Dongmin swivelled around in his chair, eyebrow perked up in mild curiosity at the younger who had already made himself home on the small sofa in the room, rambling about some poultry farmer who ended up accidentally releasing a hundred chickens into a highway, and about how he had to actively dodge a few to score an interview with the already frazzled man. 

‘Oi Han Dongmin! I’m starving, can we please escape this cave of yours?’ 

Another booming voice that Dongmin had grown to recognise barged in, still in a smart suit after his evening news reading duties. Myung Jaehyun, an anchor, known and loved throughout the company for his never-depleting energy, sauntered in, kicking the journalist off the couch, causing a string of grumbles from the younger. As he watched the two go on with their usual antics, Dongmin shook his head with a sigh, although he couldn’t deny feeling grateful towards them for making his rather solitary way of life a bit more colourful. 

After some more small talk about each of their days, filled with exchanges of complaints and stories, the three finally left the studio, making their way up to the top floor of the company, as they did every day, to join the queue of workers to get dinner at the cafeteria. As it was just another boring Wednesday, with most being too tired or too busy to go out for their meals, the cafeteria was packed, which left the boys hunting for a table after escaping the sluggishly long dinner queue. 

As they finally found a table and cosied into their seats, another familiar face almost apologetically approached them with his own tray of food, asking if the extra seat at the table was vacant. Kim Donghyun, Dongmin had learnt with time; a camera operator at Jaehyun’s newsroom, and due to the crowded days at the cafeteria, a good acquaintance to the three seated at the table.

Basking in the bluster of the cafeteria and of the four similar-in-age friends munching away at their dinners, Dongmin allowed his mind to wander freely. His mind became preoccupied with the many deadlines that crept up on him; the ones for the new variety show didn’t seem to bother him much but the horror film set to release later that year seemed to be a bit more challenging. In the chaos of his thoughts he didn’t hear his name being called out the first time, and only with a snap of Jaehyun’s fingers did he float back into the present.

‘So Dongmin-ah, what’s going on with you? Your whole life still revolving around that studio, huh?’

The composer shrugged, not quite understanding why his friends seemed to have a problem with his rather quiet way of life. Sure, he never met anyone else other than his fellow production engineers and his few friends, and yeah, his studio was the only place he ever seemed to be at, but he never quite minded that. Not really. Or so he told himself.

‘Come on hyung, you got to get out and about more! Meet new people and stuff!’

The loud journalist exclaimed between rushed shovels of food down his throat. The quiet cameraman to his left nodded approvingly, ‘Maybe you should even meet someone new, spice things up a bit. How much longer will you cocoon your whole life into that studio?’ 

At Donghyun’s words, Dongmin looked up at him pointedly, only to be met by three pairs of curious yet teasing eyes. ‘Yeah Taesan, all these love songs and still no lover? That’s just sad.’ Jaehyun asks with a giggle, addressing him by his producer name. 

Dongmin lets out a heavy sigh knowing that the three weren’t going to let go of this too easily. As they went on throwing tips at him on how to find someone he’d like and escape this ‘miserable life’ of his, he held on to that question;

How much longer would he live alone, in solitude, like this?

He wasn’t going to lie and say that the thought hadn’t caressed his mind before; the idea of being in a relationship, of not having to spend his days and nights alone save for the few minutes his tied-up friends would spare for him.

The days when the silence of the studio felt oddly hollow, and the pulsing cursor against his unfinished lyrics seemed to taunt him, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the what-ifs. But his friends were right, with the way he lived, knowing nothing but the comfort of the four walls of his studio, nothing would ever change. And he was never the outgoing type anyways. 

He let this thought engulf him, tuning out the rest of the conversation and chatter around him, even as they all bid farewell to each other before heading back to the usual hustle of their lives, even as he trudged his way back up to the all-too-familiar room, and back to his seat in front of his screens. He dropped his head down to his hands, spinning about slowly in his chair. His friends had always made fun of his almost soulless way of life, yet Dongmin never seemed to pay any heed. So what was so different now? 

Maybe his head was just muddled. Yeah, that must be it. He just needed to clear it up.

Reaching his arm across his work desk, past the stack of messily arranged papers, Dongmin reached for the radio that his father had gifted him when he first got the job, though he never really got to use it with his packed schedule. As he mindlessly turned the knobs of the device, fluttering through the different frequencies, his eyebrows bunched in confusion as he was certain he was doing something wrong as the studio was filled with the constant screech of the static.

That was until he heard it.

As the static dampened, making way for a much clearer sound, his ears perked up. It was melodic, he thought, the way your voice cut through the air, enunciating each word with a contagious sort of energy yet calming enough to allow him to grasp onto the tether of your voice among the myriad of thoughts that raced in his head. Your voice seemed to silence the static in his brain.

You weren’t a stranger to him though; being in the same company as him, hosting the late-night radio show a few floors above his own. Dongmin had often seen you clock into work just as he’d step out of his studio, surrounded by your colleagues, a radiant sort of joy engulfing your being, and everything and everyone you fluttered by. 

It always felt ironic to him; how you were a late-night show host. For to Dongmin, you were like the Sun itself, basking everything in your light that felt akin to the rays of morning sunlight. It intrigued him more than anything else: how you always seemed to have a bubbliness to you that never ran out. How your lips always seemed to be curled up in a smile that could pull the world out of the darkest of times. How sometimes he was the one who felt exhausted just watching you bounce about the company walls, greeting every face you met on your way to the radio station with an almost infectious sort of felicity.

But that’s all he’d ever done. Watching you. For you confused him, maybe even scared him. For if you were the Sun, he was the Moon, with no light to give out of his own. He could count his friends with one hand, and there you were, chattering away with anyone and everyone you met, as if you’d known them your whole life. 

But it would be a lie to say that your starkly different ways of life hadn’t piqued Dongmin’s interest just a tiny bit, but he knew all he’d ever do was silently admire your zeal from the sidelines.

You were the Sun after all, and the universe revolved around you, and he was only the moon, to watch you in all your brilliance.

As you concluded the final song in your setlist, lulling Dongmin out of the slight daze he had fallen into, voice still laced with the same radiance he had grown to look forward to, you introduced the start of the next section of your programme, ‘Tune In To You’ a section where listeners could call in to talk about their worries or ask questions to the RJ. Reciting the number of your radio station, you urged your listeners to call in, with your ever-so-compelling voice.

Almost too compelling. 

Before he could think otherwise, his fingers reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone and dialling in the numbers you melodically repeated. As his fingers hovered over the blaring green call button, he hesitated. What was he doing right now? But almost as if he were in a trance, he shook off the voices in his head screaming at him to stop and went for it. He started the call. Well… it’s not like you’d actually pick up anywa-

‘Hello! This is Midnight Talkies! Thanks for calling in, could I please have your name, dear listener?’

Oh God.

As your voice echoed throughout the room, Dongmin froze. He didn’t think you’d pick up. And now he had no clue on what to do. As he began to aggressively curse himself in his head, your voice rang through the air again, laced with a twinge of concern this time.

‘Um Sir? Madam? Could you please introduce yourself for us?’

Taesan snapped back to the issue at hand, and before his head could process his actions, his lips began moving. ‘You can call me uh… Giant Mountain’ 

OH GOD.

Behind the mic at the radio station, you stifled a giggle as the name caught you off guard, looking up at the sound technicians on the other side of the recording booth who also seemed to have a difficult time remaining stoic at the weird name.

‘Right… Mr Mountain’ you say as Dongmin can feel himself cringe as he hears the name out of your lips this time, making him realise all the more how stupid using the nickname was. 

‘So what do you have for us? Any questions or confessions for us today?’ 

Taesan stills. He has no idea what to say. Everything he’s done in the past few minutes was completely on a whim and now he’s bearing the consequences of it all. Yet, even in this moment of chaos, your voice grounds him. And the first thing he can think of flits by his lips.

‘Uh… That song you just played? Wonderwall? I really like it.’ He says, almost dumbly.

As he braces himself for your obvious confusion and judgement for his out-of-the-blue statement, you do it again. 

You manage to surprise him yet again. 

‘Oh my god! You like Oasis? I love them too! I adore the chill vibe they have with their classics, I had even personally asked for this song to be in tonight’s setlist!’

Dongmin blinks in astonishment. He did not expect you to agree with him, let alone like the band he had spent years obsessing over. Having endured hours of bullying from both Woonhak and Jaehyun for his mild obsession with the English band, he couldn’t stop his heart from somersaulting at your agreement.

And before he could stop it, the music nerd in him took over, talking about the intricacies of the baseline and how the emotional tone of the lead singer’s voice made people feel calm yet still held that rich depth of rock music, you subtle hums of agreement only urging him to go on. 

As he rambled on, behind the mic, you couldn’t help but be intrigued at the passion of the man on the other end of the line. He certainly sounded like he knew what he was saying and the way his voice resonated with excitement over being able to talk about something he’s so passionate about was endearing. This Giant Mountain guy, whoever he was, was kind of… adorable. And you couldn’t help but let out a giggle at that thought.

Dongmin paused. As he heard your soft laughs from across the line, it was like his heart stilled. If he could bottle up that sound and get drunk off of it every day, he knew he’d be a goner in no time. 

And before he knew it, the two of you were animatedly discussing your favourite bands and as he hears you talk about your favourite Radiohead album, Dongmin thinks you couldn’t be more perfect than he already thought you were. But as the allocated time for your call comes to an end, with your exuberant voice, you wish him good night, moving on to the final ment before you sign off and pass it on to the next host.

As the call ends, and the silence fills his studio again, Dongmin can’t help but miss the sound of your voice bouncing around the walls. The silence feels heavier than usual as his actions finally sink in and it all hits him at once; embarrassment, shock and even… elation?

Though this might have been the dumbest thing he’s done in years, Dongmin knows one thing for sure, this won’t be the last time he calls in to you. If he’d get to hear your voice once more and talk to you the way he did tonight, just once more, maybe the embarrassment of being known as Giant Mountain didn’t matter all that much anymore.

Back at the radio station as you stepped out of the recording booth, you were met with the teasing smiles and laughs of your colleagues as the last call of the night had everyone intrigued. Despite your usually bubbly personality, it was rare for you to be so into a conversation the way you had been with… Mountain man. And your colleagues also seemed to catch on. Yet as you brushed away all their remarks with a sing-songy goodbye, you couldn’t stop the small smile playing on your face as you thought of the nervous yet interesting persona you had met today. Even if it was only just a voice.

Dongmin was sure the universe had a personal vendetta against him.

Only a day had gone by since that fateful night of questionable decisions that he could not take back. Not that he regretted it all that much, honestly. With the way he moved with a slight perk in his steps or how even the broken coffee machine in the break room couldn’t dampen his exuberance, it was safe to say that his little late-night talk with you had made the usually indifferent man giddy with joy.

Nothing could take him down from this high horse.

Or he thought.

‘So I’m sure you’ve heard of our company’s radio show Midnight Talkies? They’re renewing for a new season in a few months so we’ve been tasked with creating a new jingle for them: something catchy but still bringing in the chill late-night atmosphere. And since Sungho and Minji both have three other projects to work on, I’m sure you’ll be fine with this? It’s not anything too difficult anyway’

As he slowly trudged out of Jiho’s office. He wished for nothing more than the ground beneath him to open into a gaping hole and swallow him whole. He usually loved working for something commercial like jingles and such, but with last night’s events, which at the thought of still left the back of his neck flaming with slight embarrassment, your show was probably the last thing he wanted to work on.

And things didn’t get any better when your superior suggested having you, the host, come over to review some ideas on how to make a catchy tune that would convey your show’s essence. 

Too soon.

But you wouldn’t catch on, would you? After all, he was just another voice you met on your show. Even though it was everything to him, he knew that the short interaction between the two of you was entirely trivial to you. 

As you walked your way down to the sound department’s floor, a few flights of stairs down from your own, your eyes scanned the open area as large pieces of equipment were scattered around, making way for a hallway of rooms with their doors shut tight, barely any indication of life within them.

Those had to be the studios.

As you walked past each door, hoping to somehow miraculously end up in front of the right one, your steps came to a halt at the door in the far corner, adorned with a wooden sign.

TS.

This had to be the one right? 

Hesitantly, you brought your knuckles up to the door. One knock. And… nothing.

Once again your hand meet the door, three knocks, this time. Still, only silence greets you. 

Maybe he wasn’t in.

Just as you were about to turn on your heels and leave, you hear the lock click open, and soft amber light seeps through the crack, only obscured by the shadow of a rather tall man with messy tousled hair sitting haphazardly over his forehead. 

‘Come in.’

As you bashfully walk into the small studio, your eyes scan your surroundings with gnawing curiosity, trying not to meet the intense stare of the much taller man in front of you. Along with many sound equipment you wouldn’t even try to name, were instruments arranged neatly against the wall, a few guitars, a keyboard, and some percussion for his more intense work.  As your eyes trailed up to the walls littered with band posters and album covers, a true testament to the owner’s passion for music, your eyes couldn’t help but catch a rather familiar sight.

‘Ooh (What’s the story) Morning Glory? I love that album!’

At your mention of the Oasis album, Dongmin’s eyes which were deliberately watching your every move shot up to meet your own, widening slightly. As your eyes locked with his, almost as if you were trying to extract his deepest darkest secrets, he knew it was all over. You’d figured his rather dumb secret out and you probably thought he was the biggest weirdo known to mankind.

But instead, he was only met with a quiet laugh from you, almost contemplative. ‘You know I could have sworn Oasis wasn’t that popular here, but lately, I keep hearing about them. I’m not complaining though, they need more recognition’

With a smile on your face, you settle down on the sofa, coercing him to take a seat too. Dongmin lets his gaze follow you once again, as you bounce one knee up and down, waiting for him to break the silence that was slowly clouding over the cramped room. He heaved a sigh, mainly of relief as he settled back down into his chair. He needed to get a hold of himself if he wanted any chance of his secret still only being his to keep.

‘Okay, so what kind of vibe do we want to go for?’

You’d been in his studio for hours already. Or maybe only minutes had passed. Dongmin could not tell. 

As he played you one sample after another of jingles and random sets of beats for you to gauge what met your fancy, you’d constantly quip up with what you liked and what you didn’t about each one, which helped Dongmin narrow stuff out. He admired the way you clearly knew what you wanted, despite your lack of knowledge about the technicalities of it all. He liked that about you. 

Sometimes you’d laugh at a funny tune or even pop a joke or two which eased the initial tense silence between you two into something much more comfortable. Even Dongmin, who was infamous for his reservedness, couldn’t help but join in with small remarks and soft giggles here and there, as your energy and good spirits almost felt like it was infectious.

Yet, as you had been the object of his keen watchfulness for years, after having grown used to eyeing you from afar for all this while, having you seated less than an arm’s length away from him, actively conversing and interacting with him was rather unnerving. Every time you’d casually compliment him for a well-made tune or jingle he’d feel his heart clench just a bit, warmth blooming within its walls, spreading to every part of his being, even if he tried to curb it.

But despite the rush of his nerves and the tingliness about his fingertips as they moved around the mixboard, as your gaze seemed to burn into his back while his own was glued onto his work, he had grown fond of the serene air that hung between the two of you, almost as if this was how it was always supposed to be.

Until a small buzz chirped from your phone, breaking the tranquil, and with it indicating that it was time for you to leave. Dongmin was probably imagining it, but he could have sworn that you looked like you hated to leave the cosy studio just as much as he wanted you to stay. Trying not to let his despondency be too obvious, he wished you a quiet goodbye, wishing you luck with the night’s radio broadcast.

But your next words seemed to raise his spirits a bit, ‘It was so fun working with you today Taesan, you wouldn’t be free the same time tomorrow, would you? I’ll research some lyrics to add in with the catchphrase so that it sounds good too!’ 

Agreeing with a bit too much enthusiasm, Dongmin watched as a soft smile graced your face, as you waved him goodbye, closing the door to his studio gently. Before he could stop it, a similar smile mirrored on his face, as his eyes stayed fixed on the same spot that you, with all your radiance, had just left. That was until a familiar news anchor came crashing in through the same door, quick enough to notice the unfamiliar expression on his dear friend’s face.

‘Please, you should have seen that derpy grin on his face, I’m telling you, Hak, he so loves her!’

As the two friends, who he usually loved to death, giggled teasingly as Jaehyun continued to exaggerate what happened after you had left the studio, Dongmin sighed exasperatedly as they seemed to pay no heed to his convincing that it was nothing more than him finding you an interesting person to be around.

But despite all their teasing over his supposed fat crush on you, he almost found himself agreeing to their words as the thought of you and your time in his studio only made his heart flutter, your voice plaguing every corner of his brain like a record player that simply couldn’t be silenced. And he wanted to hear it one more time that night.

He knew it was a risky game, yet he didn’t seem to mind anymore as a faux sense of confidence surged through him. After hurriedly wishing his confused friends goodbye, he found himself rushing back into the studio, back into the certain comfort of the four walls he could call his own, once again accompanied by the radio, this time with the knobs tuned perfectly so that the moment Dongmin’s fingers flicked it on, the studio was once again filled with the warm crackle of your voice.

You were still putting on some familiar hits which soothed Dongmin’s slowly creeping nerves as he laid his head on his crossed arms, allowing himself to unwind after the eventful day. As the final song by The Carpenters came to a slow stop, you announced, once again in that same voice that hadn’t lost its vigour throughout the day, the start of the daily programme that Dongmin had been waiting for all day. 

Almost like clockwork, he found himself dialling in the numbers, and waiting as the phone rang, this time much more hopeful to hear your voice on the other side.

‘Hello! This is Midnight Talkies! You’re live listener! Would you mind introducing yourself for us?’

Despite his nerves, a small smile dangled on Dongmin’s face at the sound of your voice, a surge of boldness filling him along with it. 

‘Hello lovely, remember me from yesterday?’

As the smooth voice played through your earphones, your eyes widened in surprise, not having expected to hear the same voice that had been the object of your curiosity the past night, to call so soon.

‘Of course, Mr Giant Mountain, how ever could I have forgotten about you? So tell me, anything on your playlist that you’re dying to hear on here?’

‘Well, could you play And I Love Her by The Beatles? The song has been stuck in my mind all day, and I figured that I had to share it with my favourite RJ’

‘Oh I must say I’m flattered, Mr Mountain’, you say with a light laugh.

‘Is there any reason this song’s stuck in your head or do you just happen to be a hopeless romantic with good taste?’

‘Ha, I guess a mix of both? I think it has to do with its mood, you know? The soft guitar with the gentle vocals is just so melancholic, you know? It just makes sense, just like talking to you, Miss RJ’

Your eyes once again flashed upwards towards your coworkers standing outside the booth, stifling their giggles at the bold man on the other side of the phone. With a slight rouge painting your cheeks, you reply, ‘Mr Mountain, you certainly seem to be one for compliments, hm? So do tell, what do you find yourself doing when you’re not listening to me ramble or play music on the radio?

‘Hmm, mostly thinking about how to sound as cool as you do on air? Spoiler alert: It’s going abysmally.’

This time you were certain that the blush on your face had undoubtedly darkened as you respond with a slight laugh. ‘Well, I’d say it’s going pretty well Mr Mountain, you’ve got that whole “mysterious caller” thing going for you, it’s kinda cool’

‘Mysterious, huh? I’ll take it, especially if you think it’s cool, pretty. But don’t get too curious, Ms RJ, I met just lose all reins and ruin the facade’

‘Oh, now you’ve got me on my toes. Well, how about this, next time you call back, you tell me a little something about yourself, Deal?’

‘Hmm, deal, but only if you’d play something by The Smiths next time, we got to keep this retro romance theme going, no?’ Dongmin says, intrigued by your curiosity towards uncovering his little persona.

‘Ooh, we’re doing themes now, huh? Alright then, Mr Mountain, just for you, And I Love Her is up next, thanks for calling in – and don’t be a stranger, yeah?’

With a lingering smile, ‘Wouldn’t dream of it, talk soon and goodnight Miss RJ’

Dongmin had fallen into a comfortable rhythm the following few weeks. Despite both of your busy schedules, your face at his door was something that had become quite frequent in his days, the two of you making significant progress in moulding the short jingle to be exactly what you had envisioned for your show. Dongmin had started to look forward to your visits, as his initial awkwardness around you had melted away into something much softer, your presence, a gentle light in his dull life.

Sometimes the two of you would even bump into each other outside the dingy studio, sometimes in the cafe near the company, where Dongmin had graciously bought you a cup of coffee despite your reluctance, that you gratefully sipped on as the two of you busked in the comfortable silence that had been a staple during your times together.

Another was when Dongmin had been waiting quietly by the elevator, his figure lost among the many others waiting, some tapping their feet in impatience, others caught up in their conversations, as he simply observed his surroundings, an earphone bud dangling from one ear.

That was when a bright voice shot from across the concierge, one that he recognised far too well.

‘Taesan!!’ 

Your bubbly figure bounded up to him as you waved hello at the quiet man clad in all-black, whose eyebrows had perked up in surprise. Yet, as he finally got over your genial greeting, a smile graced his face as he politely greeted you back, the two of you falling into small talk, the people around you all melting away as a soft bubble seemed to envelop the two ever-so-different souls, as  you were sucked into a world of your own. 

In your absence, it was almost as if Dongmin had begun waiting for you to pop out behind some wall or door; hoping to run into you some way or the other. But he never had to wait too long as every night, his calls with you had become part of his routine, and you too couldn’t deny that it was something that you had looked forward to.

Every night, your mystery man would call in, making you perk up in unconcealable excitement as you fall into your usual conversation, sometimes about music or sometimes about your days, where he’d reveal certain bits and pieces about himself that never were too specific to give out his identity but made you feel like you had started to get to know him more. And along with the bubbling curiosity about your frequent caller, you also would be surprised by the man’s blatant flirting with you. 

It started small, but with time, it slowly built up into less-subtle compliments and double entendres that had you, the ever-professional RJ melting into a mess, a constant blush decorating you as you went on about your daily calls with this mystery man who you had grown unbearably inquisitive about. 

Your colleagues at the radio station had also caught onto your flustered behaviour with this one specific listener and you had become the victim of their relentless teasing. But despite furiously refusing all their joking remarks, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest every time your mystery man became the topic of your conversations.

However, it wasn’t just your coworkers who had become fans of your undeniable chemistry with the voice you looked forward to every night. Many listeners of your radio had also written into the station, flooding in messages about the two of you. 

With you growing bolder with your Mr Mountain, often you play into the flirtatious tension you have with the man, requesting one of your favourite love songs by the Cure, dedicating it to a special someone,

‘This one’s for the voice that keeps me company here even on the darkest of nights’ 

Needless to say, this puts your listeners in a frenzy, blowing up the station’s social media page with questions and comments about the two of your will-they-won’t-they type of chemistry.

And despite considering the whole interaction as an entertaining and elaborate joke, you couldn’t help but boil over in desperation to find out who this enigma was, subtly trying to pry for details every call, but despite his laidback persona, Giant Mountain was ever-so evasive, preferring to keep the mystery and curiosity alive. 

Some days, you’d clock into work to be pleasantly surprised by little gifts sent by the same mystery man. Once it was a vinyl record of your favourite album, and another day it was your favourite coffee order, that you simply couldn’t wrap your head around how he had figured out. But everything was always signed by a short but sweet note:

‘With Love, G.Mountain’

One thing was for sure, you were going to figure out who this man, who seemed to know a lot more about you than you did him, was. You tried to tell yourself that it was just your natural curiosity taking over, but you knew that the real reason was something else. Something else, given the circumstances, felt a lot harder to justify.

Dongmin was certain that you would never figure him out.

It had been just over two months since you had started working with him on the programme’s jingle, and today would mark the final session for touch-ups. The two of you had grown a lot closer during this short time, spilling little bits and pieces about yourselves during the conversations that flowed like water between you. Yet, despite all the redundancies between him and his vocal persona, you never seemed to catch on to him.

However, he could not help but be grateful for your obliviousness. His strongly built walls had started to crumble slowly in your presence, and Dongmin himself discovered a side to him that he did not know existed—a much brighter and talkative version, one only you seemed to bring out on air. 

He couldn’t understand where the sudden boldness he found himself exuding came from, but he didn’t hate it; it felt like having two personas he could alternate between when it came to you. But now that your time together working on the jingle would be coming to an end, he could not stop the sinking feeling from settling down into his heart at the thought of not being able to see you as often as he did now.

Dongmin’s friends had also noticed his peculiar affection towards you and the way that he seemed to melt in your presence or bashfully talk about his time working with you in the studio. They’d begun teasing and throwing jokes about his ‘loverboy era’, but mainly, urging him to make a move before the chance got away. 

But it all seemed too difficult for Dongmin. As ‘Giant Mountain’, he was simply a voice, a persona with no face or human responsibilities, and the flirtatious personality came with no repercussions. Yet as Taesan, a well-renowned producer and someone you would keep seeing around in your time at the company, making a move felt far more burdensome. 

As the afternoon sun just started to subside, a much calmer warmth being cast over the city, Dongmin heard the three familiar knocks that had his heart stutter for a beat, and his ears perked up like an excited puppy. As he craned his head back, your figure met him, your face lit up in a shy yet gleeful smile as you waved hello, making your way to your designated spot on the couch.

‘So I took the little notes you had into consideration, and I have what I think is the final version of the intro… You ready to hear it?’

Dongmin asked, a curious smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. Your eyes sparkled in excitement as you quickly nodded. Taesan scrolled to the play button on his screen and clicked it. Then, he leaned back in his chair, slightly swivelling around so that he was angled towards you. 

As the light melody started to pour through the speakers, filling every corner, the upbeat yet chill tune had you nodding along to every beat as you absentmindedly closed your eyes, vibing along to the music. 

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes were observing every movement of yours, analysing how you reacted to the piece he had spent hours trying to compose and perfect. And seeing you completely immersed in it, enjoying every second was the only reward Dongmin could have asked for.

As the jingle wrapped up with a whisper of the station name, your eyes fluttered towards Dongmin’s expectant ones, as he patiently waited for your final verdict.

‘Taesan… It’s perfect, it’s everything I wanted!’

You exclaimed, your eyes crinkling into a smile, as Dongmin’s face mirrored the same expression as yours, as relief and joy washed over him at your approval. 

‘Well, I’m going to send this over to my head, and well…this is it then, huh?’ He asks as a much more solemn mood settling into the studio.

As the realisation that you wouldn’t be seeing the quiet producer around as much, sunk in, something shifted in you. Despite his composed and oftentimes cold exterior, you had grown quite fond of Taesan, with the way he’d joke around or tease you for your obliviousness when it came to music, or the way he’d listen with utmost attentiveness when you’d wind up rambling about one thing or the other, and even chirp in with remarks or soft giggles.

It felt like you had access to a softer side of the talented producer that not many others had the opportunity to witness. And you liked that. And you couldn’t help but feel sorry that the short time you had with Taesan had already come to an end. 

As the two of you worked with packed schedules, you could only promise to treat the composer to a meal since you had to leave to prepare for your show with the programme’s producer. However, before you departed, you fished out a packet of Ferrero Rocher from your bag—your favourite, as you mentioned while handing it to the stunned man—as you hurried out of the studio that you were certain you would miss.

Wrapping up the script overview, you walked into your recording studio, putting on the snug pair of earphones as you waited for everything to be set and rolling. As the large ‘ON AIR’ sign blared a bright red, you fell into a comfortable pace that you did every night, expertly greeting your dedicated listeners with the lively voice that many around the country had grown to love and adore.

Soon, you’d reached the segment that you had admittedly been anticipating the most, as you often found yourself doing these late nights, and as the sound of someone joining the broadcast played, you sat up straighter, only for the silky smooth voice on the other end to be one you recognised immediately.

As you finished up the initial greetings that the both of you had gotten used to, Giant Mountain started the conversation with the usual sort of flirtations that had your eyes rolling in mock disbelief but always left a smile lingering.

‘Hey Miss RJ, I must say I’ve missed your voice’, he starts with a playful tone.

‘Mr Mountain, my favourite caller, I was wondering if you’d remember to call in today, but you never fail to do so, hm? So tell me, what’s on your mind today?’

‘Woah, forget about you? How ever could I do that? Your voice is practically the soundtrack to my nights, I’d say it’s hauntingly good, but I wouldn’t want to scare you away now, would I?’

‘Hauntingly good, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment… But do say, if I’m the soundtrack, does that make you the lead vocalist or the backing vocals to accompany my melody?’

‘Hmm, maybe I’m the fan who admires from afar, knowing every lyric by heart? Oh! Talking about the heart, I fear I have a question for you, Miss RJ’

‘Uh-oh, that sounds serious. What’s up, Giant Mountain?’

‘Not serious, just… thoughtful. Valentine’s Day is coming up real soon, and I was wondering what our lovely RJ has planned for the special day’

You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question. Valentine’s was a day you never had much to look forward to as you had spent much of your youth trying to get somewhere as an individual, and despite your incredibly outgoing nature, you never quite found someone to spend the cheesy, yet romantic day with.

‘Hmm… Nothing much, Mr Mountain, having my wonderful listeners by my side along with some sweet music is more than enough company for the day’

‘Well, that sounds nice… But what about something to spice it up, maybe you’d like a surprise?’

As you often found yourself doing during these calls with your Mr Mountain, you glanced at the staff working at the controls, exchanging a surprised expression for their amused ones.

‘A surprise? I don’t think I caught on to what you mean… How will you surprise me while on call, Mr Mountain? I mean we haven’t ever met and I can’t imagine a surprise in any other way?’

‘Getting curious now, aren’t we Miss RJ, well, don’t worry too much about it. And while we’re on the topic of surprises, you wouldn’t mind playing “No Surprises” by Radiohead in today’s setlist now, would you? And for a clue of sorts, let’s just say… I’m a lot closer than you think I might be, so maybe you really shouldn’t be too surprised.’

‘Well, it’s hard not to be curious with you, Mr Mountain, you’re the only one who keeps me on my toes, and I really don’t know what I’ll do with that last cryptic part, Mr Mountain, I fear it’ll keep me up for nights. But while I immerse in that thought, here’s ‘No Surprises’ by Radiohead, and I hope to hear from you soon, Mr Mountain.’

You weren’t entirely wrong about his words keeping you up for nights.

From his words, it felt like Giant Mountain was hinting at you knowing him, in real life. The more you thought about it, you couldn’t help but feel something familiar about the husky voice which accompanied you for so many nights.

In the way he talked, and the way he let out breathy laughs at a joke, or even the steadiness that wound about every word he uttered, there was something about the man that you recognised but could not pinpoint what.

As the days to Valentine’s Day ticked by quickly, you grew more inquisitive about Giant Mountain’s words and well, the man himself

But with the way the man evaded each one with his usual laid-back nonchalance, you found yourself being driven to the edge of your patience and curiosity.

Soon, the day you had surprisingly found yourself waiting for had finally arrived: The day to celebrate love.

Though you were put on edge the entire day, a part of you was slightly hopeful that the mystery man who you admittedly had grown a soft spot for would do something like he’d said he would, although you knew that it was greatly unlikely and just something he ended up saying in the spur of the moment. 

And you were proven right, as the day went about just as it always did; with you clocking into work and being greeted with the day’s work, today being a bit heavier than the rest due to the special occasion. As you let yourself be consumed by your work, Giant Mountain and his words were soon pushed to the back of your mind, their blaring presence in your head being replaced by more pressing matters.

Soon, night had fallen and it had already become time for your daily show to begin. Despite the usual cheerful and lighthearted greetings you exchanged with everyone at the station, you couldn’t help but feel a certain heaviness loom in your heart. Although you knew it was stupid, you had ended up being hopeful, looking forward to a stranger’s words despite never having met them, or knowing anything about them at all.

It made you think, did you end up attached to the man behind the ridiculous pseudonym?

With his often shy demeanour, that would be quickly contradicted by his smooth words that had your heart fluttering, leaving you flushed despite your poor attempt at trying to resist it, did you really end up wanting more from this unlikely relationship with… what you only knew as a voice?

You knew it was a dangerous path to thread, and honestly an unlikely one too. The chances you’ll ever get to know more about this Giant Mountain man were not too high, and the more you thought about it, you were probably just a medium to keep him entertained; his flirtatious attitude just a fleeting game, a way to pass the time in the vast, lonely expanse of the night.

As you finished your final preparations before going on air, you couldn’t stop the thought from blaring about your head: Did he ever, even once, care about you in the way you had inevitably found yourself caring about him?

You couldn’t allow yourself to dwell on this thought for too long as the ‘ON AIR’ lights flickered a blaring red, your voice now being broadcasted around the country. Refocusing your thoughts back into your work, you greeted your dedicated and loyal listeners once again with your signature lively voice.

The night went by smoothly, with the setlist leaning towards the romance genre, starring many iconic love songs that your listeners had called in before dedicating to their loved ones. Though you swooned at the romantic gestures, you couldn’t help but not feel yourself despite the obvious abundance of love wafting through the air.

As the songs came to an end, the segment you most looked forward to came by, as slowly your hopes crept up higher, curiosity once again filling you as you wondered, maybe your Mr Mountain would find a way to surprise you during your daily call?

And so with raised expectations, you repeated the number to the station for the last time, waiting to be connected to your listeners, most importantly your favourite listener. Tonight, you had the time to entertain a few more listeners, so you started your calls with a sweet boyfriend who wanted to dedicate a speech to the love of his life on live radio. 

Person by person, you found yourself spending the night talking to more people, listening to their unique takes on love and being loved, and while you found the common topic of the night to be endearing, you found yourself wishing that you were talking to a certain someone else instead.

But as your producer signalled the end of the final call-in of the night behind the controls of the recording booth, with no sign of Giant Mountain’s usual presence on your programme, a deep forlorness settled into the pit of your stomach.

Had it finally happened? Had he finally grown tired of spending the nights talking on your show? Did he finally grow tired of you?

As you pushed away the thoughts that now took full reign in your mind, you managed to wrap up the night’s broadcast with a cheerful tone that contrasted the inner turmoil you found yourself embroiled in.

Owing to the special occasion, the show had gone on for a bit longer than usual, and maybe it was the exhaustion of it all, or perhaps just the weight of disappointment that weighed down on you, but you couldn’t wait to get back to the solitude of your home and sleep away the weariness of the day.

As you wished your coworkers a drained goodnight, many had seemed to notice your apparent dejectedness, with Yunah even pulling you aside to ask if your usual bubbliness was replaced by this brooding energy due to the absence of Giant Mountain’s calls that usually had the whole studio giggling and teasing you.

But you quickly brushed her off saying that you barely even noticed the lack of his call, and that it didn’t matter that much to you anyways, to which you were greeted with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. Quickly after, you packed up your things, waving everyone with a final goodbye. Despite your adoration towards your colleagues, tonight, you couldn’t have been more relieved to be left alone to your thoughts, as you slouched despondently against the insides of the company elevator.

Trudging your way past the entrance of the broadcasting station, your body a heavy weight to lug about, you take in your surroundings. The air is crisp, and the streets are quiet. You gladly welcome the serene peace the night offered, contrasting the muddled chaos in your head.

As you adjusted the strap of your bag, your eyes land on a lone figure in the desolate night, leaning against his car as he fidgeted with the ends of his sweater absentmindedly.

‘Taesan? What are you doing here?’ 

You were a bit confused. After wrapping up your show, it had already stretched past midnight and you were certain that the composer standing in front of you was supposed to have clocked out hours ago.

That was when you noticed the small yet gorgeous bouquet of flowers clutched tightly in his hand. 

‘Oh! Were you waiting for someone?’ You asked, your curiosity piqued. It wasn’t surprising that the good-looking music composer also had a date for Valentine’s, although for some reason, the fact felt like another jab to the gut on this already upsetting day.

With a small nervous smile, Taesan finally looked up at you, eyes meeting yours. 

‘Well yeah… I was waiting for you.’

Wait, what?

‘I told I’d surprise you didn’t I? Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss RJ’

Suddenly, it felt like the world had stopped. As you slowly start processing Taesan's words, you think you’re having an epiphany; with all the jumbled puzzle pieces that had been floating about in your head, clicking together in place, surprise and shock taking over you.

Giant Mountain… Taesan… Oh, it all made perfect sense now. And the near identical music taste from the days you had spent admiring the composer’s record collection in his studio? Now that it was all presented in front of you, you couldn’t believe how you’d missed to piece it all together when it was so conspicuously in front of you.

Your Mr Mountain had been right next to you this whole time, disguised in the form of a shy yet skillful composer you had grown a soft spot for in your time working together.

‘Wait Taesan… You’re Giant Mountain?’ You asked incredulously at the tall man in front of you, whose grin had grown wider at the sight of your obvious surprise at the revelation.

‘Guilty as charged. Though in my defence, I didn’t know we’d have to work together when I made the first call… if I had known I probably wouldn’t have done it, the whole thing was so risky anyways’, he replied sheepishly, his words trailing off as his gaze focused down to the ground.

‘Well, Giant Mountain, I’m glad the work offer came after you called in, I wouldn’t want to have imagined my nights without your company anyways’, you replied with a small laugh, causing Taesan to snap his vision from where he was so focused at kicking around the dirt around his feet, up to your eyes, surprise evident behind the shiny orbs.

‘But Mr Composer, all those calls… the flirting, the song requests… that was you the whole time? I will admit, you’ve got a lot more hiding behind the quiet studio-man persona you’ve let on, you know?’

Shuffling his feet, Taesan replied quietly, his usual unreadable stoicism replaced by an adorable shyness, ‘Well, I’d seen you around the company a lot, and I thought you were interesting… I figured if I couldn’t get your attention in person, I’d try my luck on air. And honestly, hearing your mesmerising voice every night after, it was impossible not to call in’

You felt a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. ‘You’re full of surprises, you know that, Taesan? Honestly, I still can’t believe I didn’t recognise your voice despite hearing it every day’

‘Well, I was trying to be mysterious. But I think the jig is up now. So…’ Taesan holds up the flowers in his hands, ‘These are for you. Consider it my way of saying thanks for putting up with the days in the studio and my late-night calls. And… if you’d like, you can call me Dongmin, Taesan is really just a stage name of sorts’

Taking the flowers from him, your hands briefly brushing in the process, you couldn’t stop the flush from blooming in your cheeks. ‘They’re beautiful. Thank you… Dongmin. But you know, you didn’t have to go through all this just to talk to me. You could’ve just… asked me out.’

Dongmin thought he could die happily when he heard his name slip past your lips. The same name he had spent his whole life hating sounded like the prettiest sound in the world. But shaking off the surprise, a sly grin spread across his face.

‘Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I wanted to make sure you knew how much I enjoy listening to you. Not just your voice, but the way you connect with people. It’s pretty incredible.’

You let the smile you were fighting off the whole time fully bloom at his words, your whole being warm and flushed despite the slight chill of the February night. 

‘You know, you’re not too bad yourself. I don’t know many music composers, but I’d like to think that most wouldn’t go out of their way to dedicate ‘Fell in Love With a Girl’ to me during a nationwide broadcast’

Dongmin had shed himself of his initial nervousness by that point, his face adorned by a soft, genuine smile which you found utterly adorable. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear that. But does this mean you’ll let me take you out to coffee or dinner sometime? Even our cafeteria’s dinner is fine if you’re busy… anything is fine really… anything you want’

As he stuttered over his last words, you giggled at the taller man in front of you.

‘Of course, Dongmin, I’ll hold you to that. But only if you promise to keep calling in. I kind of like having my own personal mystery caller.’

‘Deal, but next time, you’ll know it’s me. No more hiding behind the radio persona.’

You let out a small chuckle at his words, ‘That’s great. Because Dongmin, I think I might just like the real-life version of Giant Mountain so much better.’

Taesan’s eyes radiated a soft warmth as you said the last few words, but suddenly, he straightened his posture, clearing his throat, as he moved to stand right in front of you.

‘Well, in that case, how about we start this Valentine’s Day over? Hi, I’m Dongmin. I work in music production, I’m terrible at talking to strangers, and I may or may not have been secretly crushing on you for months.’

Giggling at his antics, you took a step forward towards him, ‘Hey, Dongmin. I’m the host of a late night radio show here at KOZ. I talk way too much on the radio, I love cheesy love songs, and… I think I might have a crush on you too.’

His eyes scanning you with an adoring stare, Dongmin holds out his hand to you, a tender smile dancing about his boyish features, ‘Well, my dearest Miss RJ, it’s far too late for dinner, but could I perhaps interest you in some midnight ice cream?’

Reciprocating the warm smile, you take his hand. ‘Of course, Mr Mountain, ice cream sounds perfect.’

2 years ago 

You leaned against the railing of your floor, cup of coffee untouched in your hands, as your eyes stayed focused on one of the corridors a few floors beneath your own, that the radio station overlooked.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen the familiar hallways of the music and sound production department, yet something, or rather someone, had seemed to have caught your eye. 

But as you felt a presence loom behind you, your gaze quickly shifted to your coworker and close friend. Yunah shoved your shoulder teasingly, ‘Careful now, stare at him any harder and you might just burn a hole into his back’

You rolled your eyes dismissively at her words, though your eyes seemed to betray you, as they quickly flickered down to catch a glimpse of the quiet man who leaned peacefully against a pillar, headphones comfilly sitting on his head as he mindlessly bobbed his head to the music. 

Despite his inconspicuous dark clothes and reserved behaviour, all your attention seemed to be drawn to the newcomer at the music production department; the calmness that danced about his face, his emotions unreadable. 

But in the chaos of the bustling broadcasting company, the stillness of the stranger’s presence seemed to almost comfort you, and had spurred your interest. 

You turned to your friend who had been studying your every past movement. ‘What did you say his name was?’

A knowing smile taking over her features, Yunah replies, ‘Taesan, I heard. He’s a new composer working for the entertainment department, you know, for the movies and shows KOZ is producing. I heard from Jongseob that he used to be his senior at school.’

‘Taesan...’ you let the name linger on your tongue. It was a pretty name.

Yunah nudges you once more, eyebrows wiggling up and down teasingly, ‘What? You have a thing for Mr Composer over there?’

As you watched the quiet man walk away, back into the shadows of the hallway, you softly denied with a hum, ‘No, he just seems rather... interesting’

a/n: omg first post?? honestly i've read some life-changingly good bnd fics on here to the point where i was dragged out of my writing slump, so woo? anyways, i hope you like this one, this one is dedicated to all the taesan songs i have saved from soundcloud hehe ^^

[ghostlyferrettarot]

💄🎬Mercury in the Houses🎬💄

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

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💄Masterlist💄

✨️Mercury symbolizes a person's intellect, communication, the exchange of ideas, studies, learning✨️

💄In the 1st house: it gives the person a curious, competitive mind, and a mental and intellectual capacity with a superior gift when it comes to expressing oneself both in writing and speaking. This ability will be ideal for working in the academic and scientific world, or somewhere in which their voices can be heard.

💄In the 2nd house: mental and communication abilities will give the person a gift in financial aspects, business. With this intellectual capacity, they will know how to earn a living through their mental effort. They will be able to see where to achieve success and where not. They will be able to work in areas such as journalism, or writing.

💄In the 3rd house: very powerful since it is their own house of Mercury and they can better develop their qualities. In this house everything related to studies, learning, and intellectual faculties will be very good for them; they tend to have multiple interests and careers.

💄In the 4th house: it gives the person an intellectual environment in their family roots. Mercury in this placement favors professions that have to do with the house (architect for example).

💄In the 5th house: it has to do with creativity, here the intellectual part can favor these natives being writers, intellectuals. They will be attracted to reading, writing, everything that has to do with curiosity, with learning. They will have few children and if they have a relationship with them, they will have very good communication.

💄In the 6th house: a very good position for everything related to work, responsibility, involvement. It also has to do with technology, since it requires observation and is ideal for health problems. Predisposition to change jobs and to move around for work issues.

💄In the 7th house: it favors finding a partner who is either younger or with intellectual and/or restless attitudes. It may be that marriage is sometimes more out of interest than love. This position helps you to know how to move in the social area and to know how to emerge victorious in situations.

💄In the 8th house: it is a perfect position for psychologists and occultists. These natives will be attracted by the ancient, the occult, everything that has to do with research. Favorable position for business, finances.

💄In the 9th house: it favors intellectual growth to give a person oriented to be a scientist or a writer of some kind. Numerous trips abroad will surely, although long and short durations. Philology, literature and innate facility in languages ​​will attract you.

💄In the 10th house: it will make the native ideal for professions such as diplomat or politicians, there is an humanitarian nature to them. Everything that has to do with the business world will be attractive to this native. Their sharp mind will make them reap great professional successes. It may sometimes cause instability.

💄In the 11th house: Mercury will provide this native with intelligent and diplomatic friendships that will be related to communication. They know how to inspire loyalty in their friends. They will be in groups where there is an exchange of ideas. Friendships with family members.

💄In the 12th house: Mercury has a difficult role here. Since they will feel like the black sheep among their environment. They will be a person who will be highly evaluated, judged. They are intelligent but will not know how to express themselves well. Traumas in childhood, adolescence.

[chilkookiepal]

Man In Suits

(Salesman x female!reader)

Summary:: you come across a stranger twice before agreeing to a game , you win big but what of the losses you take at unclarified stakes

warnings ! age gap ,stalking ,manipulation,mentions of married saleman ,detailed smut scenes, violence , there's more to come so i will edit this part<3

MNDI!

Part 2

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He is a nameless man but he knows you, he did his homework and so he knows all there is to know of you

YN LN

Age 22

Born to immigrant parents with no form of recorded identification, well you technically do but for an adult you are a pathetic case , stuck in a foreign country without a penny to your name, not a polite plan but your useless parents love you , right YN?

no?

Well then , you're fucked

It honestly doesn't matter because you are easily just another piece of disposable trash, a useless gullible thing and a walking target for all that could eat alive a weak thing as yourself but you might have had the angel of luck on your shoulder to have stood in that same store as him on that damned day

it was just something about you , you had too much potential, in fact you were so pathetic he could see you in the game uniform the moment he laid eyes on you , way before even knowing your name but he is and always has been a meticulous character so he stood, patiently, kept his face from recoiling as you nearly got on your knees to beg for the vacant position in a disgusting store without a clue that he was cracking his neck to slap the lights out of the store owner right behind that counter

Is this all you can get for yourself

he judged harshly with a sense of superiority as he observed you already making you a mental profile

He wonders if you even took time to research this sorry excuse of a store in all your desperate glory ,did you know of the two male companions that assisted this sleaze behind the counter in keeping the store dead as it was ,did you know that they could be far worse than the slimy pig who is just dying to fuck you, he tugs at your arm to let out with an even slimier tone

"I will call you on Monday, I promise"

and he winks

that was it ,all it took for you to leave your number there on a piece of paper

he isn't even looking for the fractures in humanity at this point and just like all the people who end up in that dumpsters , you too look like a victim of your own choices ,like trying to mix yourself with low lives who don't even try to hide the fact that they are salivating at the mounds of flesh that spill from the top of your dress

that is where he draws the line between himself and humans , humans like you and them , he is not rooted in excess and somewhere at the core of his values he really believes that his innate human desires do not control him

you have some tricks up your sleeves he will give you that , you really had not notice him stood behind you this entire time and like the user you are you turned to face him , a scowl taking over your features as you bump into him , you take a good look at him ,

Crisp suit and not a hair out of place, he looks put together , far handsome than any man in this hell hole but the briefcase in his hand makes you want to scoff for this particular part of town and you conclude  that the man is probably another pretentious bastard who belongs right where he's shopping ,staring for a second before you are pulled back to reality by the sound of your potential boss' voice telling you to make room for the customer making you mutter a simple sorry as you brush past the man whose face is housing a faux smile

Cold eyes that give nothing at all staying glued to yours , your face and never below your chin , that was easily a new with a man , especially in this part of town but then again he could just be a Jehovah's witness , those can be fun to mind fuck

you sway your hips in a hypnotic manner feeling the store owners eyes on you all the way through that exit , you were pathetic yes , not dumb...you knew that you were never going to get hired and if he called you back he would just be looking to get his dick wet

the patient man ,stood in his suit staring dead into the eyes of the man behind the counter with that faux smile that never meets his eyes, he lays flat a greeting to the man across him commanding the man's attention and when his eyes fall on the man in front of him it takes him a moment to respond but suited man with his practiced smile lays an offer just as the slimy man parts an inch of his mouth to speak

"Would you be interested in playing a game with me ?"

"What..." he scoffs as he puffs out his chest and gives an insulting look that could easily match his follow up words

"sir , a game ?...-''he lays his hand on the surface counter and laughs slightly ridiculed ''do you think this place runs on ''games '', mmhm? whatever makes you think i have the time to play some stu-''

''Seo Davis,''the salesman smiles bringing the man to a halt for a second , he watches him intently and waits for him to get ready to speak again and just like those games he enjoys so well , as  the guy opens is mouth to speak the suited man speaks ''age :42 ,You're drowning in debt... 2.3 million total  with 70 percent of your store losses going to the loan sharks ,and that is not even a brink of your financial problems Mr Seo, Creditors are circling, waiting to pounce.., but ten again by the time they get here this place will be a shell of what it never was -'' he quirks an eyebrow ''you know why? You're already so desperate, paranoid and defensive...'' he laid down his briefcase , clicking it open to the man's eyes '' You'll do whatever it takes to survive''

he can already see it in the man's eyes , the greed unhinged ''So, Mr. Seo, tell me... Are you ready to play a new game? One where the stakes are high, but the rewards are higher?'' with a gulp from the man , he picks the red envelope and the quiet store had for the first time in a while the loudest blend between ddakji slaps and the suited man's firm hand making contact with the store owner's face .

That was a month ago

you never got that call back .

over the course of that and this month you could feel the joys you had for life slip out of you as you sat through another gathering with your moter and the company of friends she kept , you had become another conversation , pitied and reduced to what your peers earned that you didn't , to your beautiful body that didn't necessarily go with your face , to your pickiness that left you single and unmarried for the rest of your life

you hid well , behind scowls and smart emarks back to your critiques but that night you felt crazy , your nails digging into your arm to draw blood and silence the mind , he had to admit , it wasn't easy to track down a person whose last records dated back to when they were just eleven years old , that was when your passport expired and you were still here

stuck in a country that gives you nothing at all

he had no choice but to find you , follow you around , you weren't that hard to tail once he abandoned finding you by the system , he could have found someone to track you for him but he was also always a perfectionist , preffering a certain degree of dilligence , if ou were going to end up in that dumpster he needed to verify that you were truly worthy of the title of honorary trash and that is how his research began , only three days after that store encounter

he had to work a little overtime and even then following you around had come to be the easiest routine he ever had to follow even though it at the cost of his personal fun time usually scheduled at local homeless parks , he didn't mind given thhat so far you hadn't come around dissapointing him

you had been so good for him , so easy to watch in a manner that your routines albeit random became of solace to him to watch you about in your wasted days

he could only trust that you would continue to do right by him and agree him to at least one game because even if you personally don't subscribe to any debt you still suffer the consequences of your parents incompetence

he knows that you know of their pending debts because you still go around getting slapped on the wrist with every chance you manage to drag your pathetic self out of bed , you are a defeated little mess and none of the burdens you carry on your shoulders are really yours , the game didn't discriminate

he studied you to be left with just another predictable case on his hands , he was right about you , he was confident in your potential but he drags a nervous breath as he stalks towards your slumped form in that train station's silver bench, crying

you were crying, good . he wonders if you'd look him in the eyes at least once , he had yet to see your eyes bloodshot and all watery , God , he needs to get a grip

,you don't see him coming , you only look to your left to see a familiar unsettling faux smile of a stranger you couldn't care less of , his signature sly smile reflecting back to you your vulnerability and desperation that he is about to exploit ,despite your attempts to protect yourself with a tough exterior you are surprisingly oblivious to the dangers that linger around you ,him included

he knows he has gotten you when you let that ounce of recognition keep you rooted in your seat with the escape of a sigh that leaves your chapping lipd

"hello miss-''

"No-no-no , I don't want jesus christ , infact if you come across him tell him that I don't want eternal life , I would hate to do this again , let alone forever''

you take a deep breath , closing your eyes briefly after you little melt down

he couldn't care less, you already strike him as an abrupt little thing , your vulnerability does that for you , you are simply defensive , if he had been here for the reasons your impulses accuse of him maybe he would have had to persist harder but then again he has so much better for you , his faux smile deepening as he questions

''are you okay?''

you divert your eyes from him looking at your hands that tremble slightly , he doesn't really like to waste his time but he dangles a tissue in font of you , this one is from the kindness of his heart and he gives you the time to collect yourself before laying out the big apple in that low smooth tone that should aid you in trusting him

"would you like to take a break from your worries and play a little game with me ? ''

''game?''

the briefcase clicks open the same time as you whip your head towards him ,a briefcase you have held at such harsh judgements laid open before you , a neatly organised compartment consisting of two square , envelopes? blue and red , cash , loads of cash...you should be excited , intrigued at the sight of the cash but just below it stares back at you a revolver , loud and shiny

when your glossy eyes go to meet the suit man your nose unintentionally scrunches at that casual smile of his , unsettling as ever as he speaks ''you could win really big and do away with your family debt in just three games , Miss YN-shii'' the man operates at such a natural robotic pace which just poses another blazing red flag in your interaction ,you know better than to indulge this stranger , nothing of him calls you to trust him but it's at the back of your mind that he made use of your name when he lays open between you two that briefcase of his , you proceed to ask gulping hard at the stacks of cash

''what kind of game?''

he smiles smugly holding two colored envelopes between his nimble fingers

''amongst these two envelopes , one contain the precise amount of the money owed by your parents and the other contains a penalty ,which one do you choose Miss YN?''

I haven't agreed to playing yet-

the thought is far from finished when he notes to you that time is ticking and you fold so sweetly under pressure , the meek little thing you are , ocd and eager to please would be caught dead before ever missing a deadline let alone disappoint anyone at all and so the salesman pouts

you are impulsive under pressure , you note as your hand flies to the blue envelope , it's bright that's your humble reason as the man's eyebrow shoots up , unreadable prompting a sight out of you as you await promised penalty while he opens the envelope

''oh -"

"what's the penalty " you ask voice barely above a whisper

the man's smile grows wider as he reveals to you a small paper that has you rolling your eyes

"Seems like you have won temporary reprieve Miss Yn, penalty has been reprieved...for now, you are left with two chances "

the envelopes change and you pick again, blue again and you honestly don't know what you are still doing here but perhaps you are at your wits end with all the doors shut to your face, you throw caution to the wind as you recall being rejected at a local strip club , they were blunt telling you that you were not what the locals pay to see , you scoffed and you have zoned out

The mans face turns serious and, you look angry , almost missing out on the fact that you won

"Congratulations Miss Yn ," in your face is a card written exactly 800k won and a bank card attached at the back, there is a crease in your eyebrows , questions swim there, doubt and suspicion too

"how do I know that you are mot just bullshitting me  , what if none of this works?"

he slides a card towards you , triangle, circle, square and a phone number printed on the back

It's strange, too easy and you don't believe in angels or easy luck not for you, especially not for you of all people

"I give you 24 hours to bask in your victory Miss Yn, the details of your penalty remain on hold until then"

you are confused , cat really got your tongue and you stay puzzled even as the man bids you farewell

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ +-------+_ _ _ _+-------+_ _ _ _ _

you had clutched tight the envelope from the strange man for the rest of that night , barely slept a wink looking him up on the internet , it had started with the card of shaped symbols which lead you to preschool stuff , you so badly wanted to believe that maybe he was a preschool teacher but your wide awake senses rejected the idea so greatly your nose bled at 2am in the darkness

, you tried with the number as you further spiraled into desperation....NOTHING. When the morning came your feet carried you back to that train station , you occupied the very same seat as you had that day , you waited before you were seeking him , trails that lead you back to that store , or what you think to once have been a store , ashes and broken glass residing there, you seeked your surroundings for a strange yet familiar face until a part of you is convinced that he is just a fragment of your imagination , a byproduct of the immense stress and disappointment of you daily life

you wander and wander until you are stood in front of an atm , fucking around to find out , and find out you did.

your father's bank balance reflected back at you sums and amounts you would never even dream of ,800k as the man had said and you still couldn't believe it.

you could have just enjoyed it but you wanted the catch , a fault , anything to tell you that you were deluded,

you went home , you often thought about what you'd say you to your parents who sheltered you with all they could manage as you entered the threshold of your home , a tought that goes away as soon as you meet the joyed expression of your father who is somehow confident that he won a quarter of the lottery , he wasn't far off as it all felt surreal only , as he showed you a dramatic text from an unsaved contact

congratulations mr LN on your lottery win of 800k , your victory has been deposited into your account , enjoy~!!

you felt scared , you wondered if you had been baited to some illegal scheme that could lend not you but your father in prison

you prayed not as you went from confused to making excuses to deciding that you needed to contact the suit man , you dialed quickly the number on the card , it rang before a feminine voice greeted on the other side "hello, who's this?"

the crease of your eyebrows could only get deeper as you frowned

"Hello , may I please talk to the man...''you cringed at your tone and the ridiculousness of the situation , the realisation that you didn't even know his name ,''he wears suits and carries around a briefcase-" beep

the line disconnects before you are done and you try the call again, double checking each digit before pressing call , this time the woman get's to talk before you do

"I will pull your tongue out and wrap it around your neck until you die if you ever call my husband again.''

she didn't even wait for your response before cutting off the line

third time is a charm , you seem to be blocked as you are immediately rejected before calling it a day , not entirely though given that your desperation was venturing on the lines of paranoia ,it was a joyful day in your home , your father still convinced that he won the lottery which meant that you got no thanks at all for your efforts , not to be mistaken , you appreciated the heat of having to explain yourself or the mysterious money being removed off your shoulders but a teeny tiny list of reasons overwhelm you , for starters...was it a coincidence that the money had gotten to your father as a simple run into the luck of lottery, your efforts entirely discarded , you technically didn't have to do much for the money which is what posses the biggest threat to you right now , despite wanting to tell yourself that you won this money fair and square the rationed part of yourself cannot simply accept that life would just be so...giving? to you of all people...what was all tat about a pending penalty?

it's nearly 24hrs since  you last came across that man,' would he have shown up if you hadn't gone to the bank ?

a lot of things were unclear as you laid awake for the second night in a row ,you needed answers that the chat assistant in your pocket could not answer , and so you slipped on your  pair of slippers  , you just wanted to clear your head and that path lead you to the opposite end of the subway from where you sat yesterday , even at these late hours exhausted people occupy the place , probably people with jobs to return from, you wonder if some may even be going to thier jobs and somewhere between your thoughts you get lost, your fingers becoming the object of your focus on your lap amidst the quiet noise of a busy station

you are strangely calmed by the waves of trains and the chaos of your mind is muted until the waves are blending with something else , clapping?

You lift up your eyes and you don't have to search far because right across you through the windows of a train stands a confident suited man who throws a familiar red envelope to the ground, you quickly realise that he is flipping the blue envelope on the ground before proceeding to slap the man across him, hard and fast

It's natural that your eyebrows crease as the man is handed some cash before the suit man is leaving up the stairs

you are even more skeptical of him but you still run after him as soon as the train departs and you risk your life with the hopes of possibly getting some questions answered

It's not really a surprise by the time you reach the stairs there is absolutely no one but you keep going, in your head you think you will just run into him and the idea makes your palms sweaty. The man carries a gun, he slaps people and.. -he's turning a corner down the sketchy passage

every part of you, rational is screaming at you but your feet still work very fine so you jog after him, he must have impaired hearing because you heave painfully and your slippers basically slap the ground beneath your feet loud enough to reach him, as you reach the corner you scan briefly before he's right there, he suddenly appears in front of you under the flickering exhausted lights and the familiar scent of his expensive cologne overwhelms your senses

at the first eye contact you make with the man you bow your head , contemplating your decision to case after him , you hadn't even prepared a what you would say to him and now all your senses were screaming at you to turn back

you have to talk yourself into staying rooted as he takes slow steps towards you ,the distance between you two is becoming smaller by the minute and you are actually getting scared because because the summer rain hits you without warning and his faux smile is nowhere to be seen tonight in place of his faux smile is a darkness occupying his eyes

you don't know if it could save your life but you bow and issue out a greeting

he does take a halt ,right in front of you , you are preparing your next words when he reaches for your cheek ,eyes deep and set on yours as he slowly backs you against the wall , the pad of his thumb caresses the area and you are highly aware of him and everything around him

you wonder if you look as brave as you intend to present to te man in front of you getting on your tippy toes to glance behind him and letting the fact that it's only the two of you here sink just as you decide that you are allergic to silence , the one he is presenting to you anyway

"do you live around here , ajushi?'' you continue to avoid his eyes looking around the area just to distract yourself from the fear bubbling beneath the surface

"I don't''

he doesn't beat around the bush as he pops out the biggest question

"why are you following me? YN"

the hand on your cheek trails slowly down until i's at your neck where his rough thumb massages in meditated motions on the column of your throat ,

''I wasn't-'' the hold on your neck turns not so gentle yet not enough to disrupt your breathing pattern , it's a warning just as the words that follow up

''I have an idea , you answer my questions , for every answer that I don't like i add pressure to your precious little neck

-with that , be mindful of what you answer miss yn, '' he loosens his hold slightly finally flashing you a formal smile , nowhere near friendly even with his full set of teeth on display

''so Miss YN , have you been following me?"

his eyebrows shoot up in an expression that makes you think for a second that he is actually adorable , only the hand on your neck makes you start talking

"'I tried to call you ,on the number you gave me but a woman answered and told me that I would be dead if I ever called her husband again"

he hums just as his hand tightens , you can for a second taste the faux courage exit you system as you try to gulp down the sheer panic bubbling up

he shakes his hand side to side ''that just won't do YN-

why are you following me ?''

''I wanted to thank you , my father recieved the money but I couldn't find you anywhere so I went to the train station for some air and then i saw you- you can't stop there ,he is so close to cutting your air flow

''I wanted to talk to you and ask about the penalty and why my father is convinced that he won the lottery , you walked too fast and I couldn't call you so I ran , I didn't mean to follow you''

you did it again , your frustrated meltdown thing and now you were crying , he should feel sympathy

but fuck you look far better than he imagined you would with your eyes all watery ,he's pushing and at the sight of your hands shooting up to where he clutches your neck adding pressure by the passing second you become quite aware of the nearest news headline

"woman , 22 found in the nearest ditch-''

"would you like to come with me or return home to live in the devastating shadow of the peanuts that your brother earns , hmm YN?''

he let's go of you and you cough violently shooting a glare in his direction as he reaches a hand towards your face swiping a tear before sucking the section of the thumb

you shake your head no and you expect him to be...well.. himself about the matter but he simply turns away to leave you in the pouring rain teeth chattering , you are not even sure where you are so you do the next dumbest thing , block his path

"t-t-take me - with you''.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Winning coalitions aren't always governing coalitions

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/06/how-the-sausage-gets-made/#governing-is-harder

Winning an election is easier than it looks: all you have to do is convince a bunch of different groups that you will use power to achieve their desires. Bonus points if you can convince groups with mutually exclusive goals that you'll deliver for them – the coalition of "people who disagree about everything" is hard to assemble, but it sure is large!

Politically, a "conservative" is someone who believes that there is a small group of people who were born to rule, and a much larger group of people who were born to be ruled over. As Corey Robin writes in The Reactionary Mind, this is the one trait that unifies all the disparate strains of conservative thought: imperialists, monarchists, capitalists, white supremacists, misogynists, Christian nationalists, Hindu nationalists and supporters of Israeli genocide in Palestine:

https://coreyrobin.com/books/the-reactionary-mind/

These groups all agree that power should be hierarchical, that your position in a hierarchy is something you're born with, and that letting people who were "meant" to be at the bottom of the hierarchy rise to the top puts society so out of balance that it's actually a threat to human survival. That's why conservatives of all stripes get so furious about "DEI" – any kind of affirmative action program serves as a defective sorting hat, putting the incompetent and unsuitable into positions of power over other peoples' lives. It's why "DEI" is the go-to scapegoat for any kind of disaster, including giant ships crashing into bridges:

https://www.axios.com/local/salt-lake-city/2024/03/26/baltimore-bridge-dei-utah-lawmaker-phil-lyman-misinformation

But while conservatives all agree that some of us are born to be in charge and others are born to be bossed around by our innate superiors, they have irreconcilable differences about who is meant to be in charge. British imperialists who pine for the Raj have views that are fundamentally at odds with the views of Hindu nationalists. They're both "conservative" movements, but they're actually bitter enemies.

For a conservative movement to win power, it has to convince the people whom it would relegate to the bottom of the hierarchy to support that goal (AKA "getting turkeys to vote for Christmas"); and it must convince other conservatives that they will be able to establish a hierarchy that accommodates multiple, co-equal ruling elites.

The first tactic is well-established. LBJ summed it up neatly:

If you can convince the lowest white man he's better than the best colored man, he won't notice you're picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he'll empty his pockets for you.

The second one requires far more tactical thinking. Some elite groups are able to form coalitions by carving out exclusive zones: think of the friendly feeling among Modi, Orban, Erdogan, bin Salman, Trump, Milei, et al. These people all aspire to dictatorship, all espouse their superior blood – a source of personal and racial superiority – and hypothetically all believe that the world would be better if everyone (including their foreign counterparts) would take their orders.

One way to resolve this tension is to carve up the world geographically, which is why so many despots who seized power by promising to build ethno-states can co-exist with one another and even cheer one another on. Let Orban have Hungary, give Turkey to Erdogan, and let Bibi Netanyahu annex all of Gaza. Sure, in their hearts of hearts, each of these men secretly believe themselves to be racially and personally superior to the others, but so long as they all stay out of one another's turf, there's no reason to make a big deal out of that.

Another way to resolve this tension is to carve up the world temporally: think of the alliance between Christian nationalists and Israeli genocidiers. In the USA, "Christian Zionists" outnumber Jews who identify as Zionists:

https://www.trtworld.com/magazine/qanda-for-every-1-jewish-zionist-there-are-30-christian-zionists-and-netanyahu-exploits-this-15656249

But Christian Zionists aren't philosemites. They hate Jews and believe that we are all going to hell for murdering Christ. Their support for Israel isn't grounded in a belief in the necessity of a Jewish ethno-state – it arises out of the apocalyptic belief that Christ will return once Jews "return to the Holy Land" – albeit only briefly, before being cast into a lake of fire for all eternity.

Like British imperialists and the Hindu nationalists, Christian Zionists and Jewish Zionists are not on the same side. However, unlike British imperialists and Hindu nationalists, Christian Zionists and Jewish Zionists want the same thing…for a while. Both groups support the establishment of a Jewish entho-state in Israel, they just differ sharply as to what happens after that comes to pass. So long as they don't dwell on that moment in the future, they can stand shoulder to shoulder, fighting together for an Israeli state that operates with absolute US support and total international impunity.

Coalitions who defer the question of how they'll use power to after they've gained power are using time (rather than space) as a buffer that keeps their differences from smashing together until they shatter. But time and space aren't the only buffers for the differences between coalition partners – there's also class.

"Class" has been the most important, most useful buffer for conservativism since the Reagan revolution. Reagan came to power by forging an alliance with evangelicals, whose cult leaders had historically demanded that members focus their energies (and cash donations) on the church, while avoiding politics as "worldly."

Reagan promised the Christian right a bunch of culture war stuff – bans on abortion, punishment for uppity women and racial minorities, prayer in school, segregation academies, etc – that his financial backers frankly didn't give a shit about. By all means, let working class evangelicals homeschool their kids and teach them that the Earth is 5,000 years old, it doesn't matter to Wall Street, who will reap a giant tax-cut and also send their kids to private schools with rigorous curriculum. Bankers' wives and daughters will always be able to afford to fly out of state (or across the border) for abortion care, they will never die of AIDS in the charity wing of a community hospital, their daughters won't be trapped by bans on no-fault divorces.

For the past 40 years, American oligarchs and would-be oligarchs have entered into enthusiastic coalitions with virulently racist, sexist and homophobic groups, and maintained peace within their coalition by passing punitive, cruel laws that the rich can buy their way around. For many self-styled libertarians, the most important liberty is "not paying taxes" and this subordinates all other liberties, such that a "libertarian" will vote for a coalition whose platform promises to ban abortion, birth control, "interracial" marriage, and queer sex, so long as it also promises tax cuts. It's a weird kind of pro-freedom ideology that happily trades away (others') freedom for (your own) tax cuts:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#tolerable-racism

Remember, Trump's first CPAC speech was sponsored by Goproud, a group of "fiscally responsible" gay Republicans who believed in gay rights, sure, but not as much as they believed in getting so rich that even if poor gay people were ground into dust, they could float above it all:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/GOProud

Class is the third buffer between the oligarchs of the right and the mass movement that provides the bulk for winning elections. After all, laws are for the little people, so by all means, we can promise – and even deliver – laws that we would never submit to, because we don't have to submit to them. This is Wilhoit's Law in action:

Conservatism consists of exactly one proposition, to wit: There must be in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_M._Wilhoit#Wilhoit's_law

In a hierarchical society, class separates groups of people just as rigidly as time and space, and is every bit as useful a buffer as the other two forces.

Until it isn't.

Eventually – once you've banned abortion, once you've taken all the "controversial" books out of the library, once you've made affirmative action illegal – you reach the layer of non-negotiable culture war demands that the rich can't buy their way out of.

Like immigration.

Let's start with this: immigration doesn't have to result in wage suppression. Couple immigration with strong unions and a muscular labor rights regime and workers do just great. The more the merrier! America needs workers of every kind. What's more, the unions and labor laws in America owe their existence to immigrant workers, so there's nothing about immigration that is necessarily incompatible with winning rights for workers.

But the possibility of importing some overseas union organizers isn't what motivates the finance wing of the conservative coalition to demand "guest-worker" programs like the H1B visa:

https://twitter.com/RobertMSterling/status/1873175206073626660

H1B visas are "non-immigrant" visas, meaning that they are designed not to offer any path to permanent residence or citizenship. You can live in the US for a long time on an H1B, but you are bound over to your employer like a serf bound to a feudal estate: if you lose your job, you lose your right to abide in the country. That can mean losing your house, your car, your kids' school and friends. It can cost your spouse their job, because if you're kicked out of the country, they might well leave along with you, rather than remain alone here.

H1B tech workers are the workers that tech-barons have dreamt of for decades. An H1B worker can't job-hop, and so needn't be lured to work with gourmet cafeterias, luxury gymnasiums, or other perks of the whimsical tech "campus." H1B workers can't quit if they don't like their stock-options packages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech bosses hate tech workers, and they always have. It's not affection that causes Jeff Bezos to allow his coders to come to work with pink mohawks, facial piercings, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don't understand, while his delivery drivers piss in bottles and his warehouse workers are injured at three times the national average. Jeff Bezos neither cherishes his coders' kidneys, nor is he especially hostile to delivery drivers' need to pee – he just squeezes any and every worker in any and every way he can.

Same for Tim Cook: the accomplishment that prompted Apple's board to elevate Cook to Steve Jobs' CEO office was the successful transfer of iPhone manufacturing to China. Specifically, Cook figured out how to work with his primary supplier, Foxconn, to create a working environment that produced reliable, precision-manufactured mobile devices, and all it took was creating a working environment so brutal that the company had to install suicide nets to catch the factory workers who couldn't stand it any longer:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/jun/18/foxconn-life-death-forbidden-city-longhua-suicide-apple-iphone-brian-merchant-one-device-extract

Apple's tech workers aren't worked to suicidal desperation, sure – but not because Tim Cook likes coders and hates factory workers. It's because he's afraid coders will quit, and he's not worried about replacing factory workers after they jump to their death.

The point of the H1B program is to create a tech workforce that bosses no longer have to fear. Recall that when Elon Musk took over Twitter and circulated a mandatory "extremely hardcore" pledge that demanded that workers promise to subordinate their health and wellbeing to his profits, it prompted a mass departure, with the notable exception of workers whose immigration status (and/or insurance for serious health issues) depended on their ongoing employment at Twitter:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/16/23462026/elon-musk-twitter-email-hardcore-or-severance

When Musk's cronies gloated about shedding 20% of Twitter's workforce on "day zero," the workers they had in mind were the ones who didn't fear their bosses and wouldn't frog when the investor class shouted jump. "Sharpen your blades, boys" means we're slicing off workers who are laboring under the misapprehension that they are entitled to a say in their working conditions:

https://techcrunch.com/2022/09/29/elon-musk-texts-discovery-twitter/

After all, America does not have a tech worker shortage. The US tech sector fired 260,000 skilled workers in 2023, and more than 150,000 were shown the door in 2024. When Musk and his fellow tech bosses complain that they need more "talent," what they mean is they need workers who are so terrified of being deported that they'll accept low wages, sleep under their desks, refuse to talk to union organizers, and, above all, do as they're told:

https://youtube.com/shorts/N0FkyXFhmpo?si=GCh6bFqd31prazhz

Trump won office by promising mutually exclusive outcomes to different parts of his coalition. To the nativists and bigots (and workers who'd bamboozled into thinking that their low salaries were the fault of other workers, not their bosses), he promised a halt to immigration. To the plutocrats, he promised a large and pliable workforce – of low-waged agricultural workers and of precarious H1B tech workers who'd discipline America's "entitled" tech workers:

https://prospect.org/labor/2025-01-02-president-musk-american-workers-h1b-visas/

Now, he has to figure out how to keep everyone happy. Literally: the Speakership of Congress is only nine votes away from collapsing at any time (and until last week, it was just one vote away), and without Congress, Trump's ability to govern will be severely curtailed (see, for example, 2018-2020).

Immigration isn't an issue like abortion: oligarchs can support abortion bans and still procure abortions when they need them. It's much harder to support an immigration ban and still procure precarious, low-waged workers for your business. It will take many years for American-born workers to be so brutalized and broken that they capitulate to the working conditions that American guest workers and undocumented workers accept, and bosses are impatient.

It's hard to put on a convincing performance of banning immigration, as the UK's New Labour discovered. In the years leading up to the 2010 election, Labour – under Blair and then Brown – made a big show of "cracking down on immigration." At one point, Home Secretary Jacqui Smith announced that she was axing dozens of UK visa categories, while carefully not mentioning these were so niche that hardly anyone qualified for them. This created chaos for the people affected and their families – I lost my own "Highly Skilled Migrant" visa at this time and we had to move our wedding plans up by eight months so I could stay in the country with my British partner and our daughter – but it didn't do anything to quench the xenophobic rage that UKIP and the Tories had been stoking, and Labour lost its next election.

American conservatives are rightly proud of their ability to form coalitions. They trumpet their ethic of "no enemies to the right" and contrast this with the "cancel culture" of progressives:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-year-democrats-lost-the-internet/

It's true that purging your ranks of coalition partners who disagree with you at the margins is a severely self-limiting move. It's also true that the broader your coalition is, the easier it is to win power.

The right has built a coalition of people who want opposite things. Infamously, Project 2025 isn't just a collection of terrifying ideas for running (and ruining) America – it's a collection of mutually exclusive terrifying ideas for running and ruining America:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/14/fracture-lines/#disassembly-manual

Trump's top health picks – RFK jr, Weldon, Oz, Makary, Bhattacharya, Nesheiwat – want mutually exclusive, irreconcilable things that are as impossible to compromise on as "banning immigration" while simultaneously "expanding the H1B program":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/20/clinical-trial-by-ordeal/#spoiled-his-brand-new-rattle

Big, diverse coalitions of people who normally oppose each other are great for winning power, but they're very bad for wielding power. Trump's majorities in Congress and the Senate are razor-thin, and while the Democrats had to suffer under the Manchin-Synematic Universe, the GOP's Klown Kar of Krazies has dozens of swivel-eyed loons who will happily blow up "must-pass" bills just for shits and giggles.

What's more, the GOP has spent decades installing easily blown circuit breakers into the American legislative and administrative systems, from the filibuster to the debt ceiling. By design, these allow small groups of lawmakers to kill bills and hamstring presidential power. Trump's first attempt at removing one of these breakers – the senseless kabuki of the annual debt ceiling showdown – was a total failure:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-12-19-debt-limit-should-absolutely-be-eliminated/

Musk thinks he can ram through policies that sizable portions of the GOP coalition would rather die than support. So far, Trump has proven a pliable puppet for Musk's ambitions. But the Musk-Trump coalition is every bit as fragile as any other in the GOP, and Trump is notoriously sensitive to accusations of weakness. Musk can threaten to primary any GOP lawmaker who gets in his way, but as the Kochs discovered after they unleashed the Tea Party, grievance-fueled, paranoid, heavily armed cults are hard to keep on a leash.

The coming months are sure to be an all-out war of GOP infighting as the coalition must wield power without the useful buffers of space, time and class. They'll be an object lesson in the dangers of a coalition that's so broad that everyone is welcome, even people who'd happily line you and yours in front of a firing squad.

But just because the right's attitude to coalitions is to have a mind so open its brains fall out, that doesn't mean the left should pursue a program of overwhelming ideological purity. Trump is a stupid guy with incoherent ideas, but look at how far he got by erecting such a big tent that anyone fit underneath it (even actual Nazis).

The progressive coalition doesn't need to be that big. We can have enemies to the right. The hugs Kamala Harris bestowed on ghouls like Liz Cheney didn't win the election, and the medal Biden just gave her won't help either:

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/02/us/politics/presidential-citizens-medal-liz-cheney.html

Manchin and Synema can "fuck off until they come up to a gate with a sign saying 'You Can’t Fuck Off Past Here,' Climb over the gate, dream the impossible dream, and keep fucking off forever":

https://michaelmarshallsmith.substack.com/about

But the fact that some people don't belong in a progressive coalition, it doesn't follow that there's no room to make the coalition looser and broader. Sure, a big coalition makes it hard to wield power, but without that coalition, we'll never win power.