#it's an irony that some people are rich and lack good relationships

[flight-freedom]

I seldom drink but tonight I have a pint of beer and it's weird how being buzzed/drunk makes you want weird things like the frozen breaded fish sticks that're in the freezer that I don't like the taste of and which are probably composed of bycatch. Or like the semi-stale tortilla chips I just ate. Ew. Why did I do that?

[toffee-and-tandoori]

hello hannah i am here in your inbox once again and i am of course bringing you a the last dinner party song theory

you know i’m a sod for happy stories and i can’t stand sad things at all. everything fic read has to have a happy ending otherwise i will not read it. it gets to a point where when a fic is getting too sad, i actually scroll all the way to the end to see how it ends. it’s so awful but i need super sad angst followed by the happiest of endings.

however, that being said, nothing matters by the last dinner party, imo, is a really good angsty marcnaia song depending on how you interpret it. the whole theme of careless sex and other people still somehow being involved in the relationship is perfect, as well as the parts that talk about the two people being alike (and i especially love the metaphor about motorbikes ajshsh). imo the more you listen to this song and understand it, the more sad it gets and the more relatable it is to the two of them.

butttt (since i’m still a sod), the song does get happier and becomes more about love and passion and being carefree and maybe that means something here🫢

anyway i’m very much looking forward to seeing your reaction and to reading your mini essay/fanfic, i always enjoy those and i hope applications to psych residencies are going/went well <3

ahhh lee first of all thank you for the well wishes! so far i've had quite a few interviews at some great programs and overall i think things are going well <3

also i must say i am the EXACT same way about needing a happy ending with any fic i read (but for some reason i gravitate towards the more tragic ships like brocedes, pierresteban, rosquez, etc...like why do i do this to myself lmao). if there's not enough detail in the tags i WILL skip to the last few lines. and yes to the angiest angst to ever angst followed by happy endings, the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff - fix-it fics are just SO HEALING for me (the irony of me yearning for fix-it/angst with a happy ending fics and wanting to be a psychiatrist is not lost on me...).

and lee i will never judge you for any ship you have but i must confess...marcnaia is just NOT for me (except maybe in very specific, purely non-sexual and platonic [at best] ways). with VERY few exceptions, i am a ''one ship per person' kinda girl and rosquez has captured my heart (and with pecco i've recently become enlightened to pecco/luca which feels so obvious in hindsight). also i interpret pecco as having way too much repressed energy to be as carefree as the song suggests (i also might lack respect for pecco as a rider lmao whoops) and imo marc would refuse to settle for anything less than the best (which is unfortunately valentino).

HOWEVER even if it is not MY personal view, with a more neutral lens i can see what you mean about the song describing to how they attempt to fill the valentino- and luca-shaped voids (oooh how rich that they're pining for brothers haha) with each other. especially since for marc, pecco is valentino's successor while for pecco, marc is luca's predecessor. so they're like proxy versions of the person they really want...juicy. for me i can't go any further than platonic for marcnaia but lee please feel more than free to do you <3

also i can't help but latch onto the "i hope they never understand us" line with marcnaia because all the theorizing about how their teammates era will end up is hilarious to me and i hope there is never a clear understanding for how they are as teammates. i mean, i've seen everything from the bestest of besties (lmao) to somehow being more volatile than rosquez (also lmao). imo it'll be the most milquetoast pair of all time...but i hope marc kills pecco with kindness without sparing a second thought and as a result pecco's haunted and miserable (affectionate?...maybe?).

lee i genuinely hope this at least somewhat fulfills your desires even if went about it in what is probably a MUCH different way than you were envisioning (i.e. i somehow still made it about rosquez haha). please do not let my personal views of marcnaia stop you from sharing your thoughts with me because i love to read what you have to say <3

[btw "nothing matters" was the first last dinner party song i ever heard and i immediately fell in love! it actually played randomly on the radio while i was driving home and i was like "oh what is this???" and had to repeat the lyrics to myself so i could look them up when i got home. truly a banger!]

[also lee i responded to the questions you posed in our previous discussion about the pierresteban/rosquez fic-esque thing if you want to take a look]

[notsp1derman]

a rambling review of sense and sensibility, by jane austen

[this contains spoilers for the end of the book. Proceed with caution]

"I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way."

As my second time reading Jane Austen, this experience was at the same time vastly different and, as expected, similar to Pride and Prejudice. For me it's impossible to analyze one without comparison to the other, them being books by the same author in the same setting, but I believe that doesn't demerit any of them. The plots have a lot of similarities too, and Austen estabilishes well her archetypes, but it was still different enough for it to not bother me.

While Pride and Prejudice's strenght lies in the sweet fantasy of falling in love with rich men that aren't complete assholes, and in opposing personalities that are very interesting to observe, Sense and Sensibility delivers much more of a moral and political discussion, far more directly too. The romance between the two main couples is almost secondary in face of the relationship between the sisters Elinor and Marianne, and their shared hardships in a social circle full of vain, egotistical and materialistic people. It almost feels as if the sisters, Elinor in specific, are there to be a model of how a woman should behave according to Austen, and are constantly put in situations that compare them against characters almost cartoonishly flawed with the worst of high society at the time. Even the impulsive and at times childish Marianne is vindicated when compared to her peers.

It's not like we don't get the classic tense moments of doubt for the feelings of the romantic interests here, and some yearning sighs and swooning there, but the focus is much more on the characters' hubris because of their flaws. This is expressed over and over through Willoughby's own demise and regret of breaking Marianne's heart; through the funniest irony possible for mrs. Ferrars after disowning his son Edward; so on and so forth. Even the better characters of the story — like sir John Middleton and mrs. Jennings — have their part in the drama, when their well intentioned nature melts into excessive meddling and a lack of tact bordeline offensive.

The answer Jane Austen gives to all these characters is an impressive growth for most of them, with reactions appropriate to the gravity of the turmoil the Dashwood sisters go through between London and Barton. Sir Middleton and mrs. Jennings repay their faults with true kindness towards the sisters, mrs. Ferrars tastes her own medicine and is forced to go back on her harsh words and accept some things she didn't want to, and Marianne most of all had the kind of maturing that only happens after a heartbreak, emerging as a better and less impulsive person that values her friends and family as much as finding the perfect husband.

The only one without this much development is Elinor, which is a shame considering she isn't a perfect character (though it sure feels like Austen is trying to tell us this sometimes). Still, I think it's ok for a piece of media to have characters that don't grow as much; we all have different paces, and Elinor was already very mature for her age.

These descriptions of stereotypes of high society, gossip and discussions of money and properties take up a good chunk of the book, which makes it kind of slow to catch up. Still, conversely to Pride and Prejudice, we get a strong message of the true nature of the rich. The lavish parties and gatherings turned stiff because of the atendees, and the supposed elegant ladies were either bitter and greedy or just plain annoying. But it was fun to have main characters that didn't keep up with all that bs for a change. The two sisters are definitely the soul of the book.

One of my only disappointments with Sense and Sensibility was, ironically, the romance. Edward Ferrars feels like a dull copy of Darcy, and was so removed from the general events of the book that I honestly didn't believe he would be the romantic pairing to Elinor until the last few pages. Even worse, the age gap between Marianne and colonel Brandon and her (implied) unrequited feelings for him until the very end irked me. I really loved Brandon as a character, but him and Marianne just didn't have a SINGLE drop of chemistry.

Still, even though there's little to complain, this book wasn't AMAZING to me either. The cast annoyed me more than entertained me, and I finished the book completely neutral about it. Though, I have to admit it: the plot twist of Lucy eloping with Edward's brother was very unexpected. The chaos of the latter 3rd of the book was my favorite part. Overall a fun book with a nice little message and nice main characters.

★★★☆☆

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 10 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was only made aware that Wen Ruohan had fixed things when he realized that two weeks had gone by without anyone saying anything about him personally and had, out of a sense of morbid curiosity, asked one of his teachers about it.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” his teacher asked, nose deep in one of the musical scores they’d put together for the array project, hunting for the flaws. “The sworn brother business was just part of one of his schemes to gain additional power amongst the Great Sects.”

Having been involved in it, Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure about that. “What do you mean, honored teacher?”

“He’s been finding ways to form new ties with all the Great Sects, not just ours,” his teacher explained. “It’s all come out; some very clever people figured it out. There’s a new trade agreement with the Jiang sect that both sides were keeping hushed up, something going on with the head of the Nie sect that the Nie sect disciples are being especially close-mouthed about, and, of course, his new connection with the Jin sect…it’s really not that surprising that he decided to find a way into our Lan sect by trickery.”

His teacher said it casually, as if of course Lan Qiren's sworn brotherhood had been formed by a slightly underhanded maneuver rather than torture or rape or anything like that, and while of course that was in fact true, Lan Qiren was stunned by the fact that what passed for common knowledge in the cultivation world had been flipped on its head in such a short time.

Truly, Wen Ruohan’s cunning was boundless. It was a little frightening.

“Say,” his teacher added. “As his sworn brother, you’ll be attending the wedding, won’t you? You should bring back some stories!”

Lan Qiren stared blankly. “…what wedding?”

It turned out that Wen Ruohan’s new connection with the Jin sect was through a marriage. The bride wasn't surnamed Jin, that would be too much for most people to tolerate without some sort of excuse; she was instead from a powerful subsidiary sect that swore allegiance to the Wen sect, in keeping with Wen Ruohan’s preference for his own people above anyone else, but her mother was a branch cousin of the Jin sect and everyone said that it was obviously meant as a way to bind the sects together. They said Wen Ruohan had spoken openly of his desire for sons – as usual, no one mentioned the names of those of his descendants already in his sect’s memorial hall – and that there were high hopes associated with the union on both sides. The Jin sect was said to be already parading around the marriage as their newest political victory, trying to use the connection to their best advantage.

“How long has this been planned, do you think?” Lan Qiren asked Lan Yueheng, mostly out of lack of other people to ask; unsurprisingly, Lan Yueheng shrugged.

“It’s an engagement,” he said disinterestedly. “My cousin says the negotiations for an engagement can be as long or as short as everyone wants it. But surely no one would make a lifetime decision like that lightly? Not to mention an alliance between sects, however implicit. It must have been planned a long time ago.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. There was always the ambiguous situation between Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie to consider, and given the way Lao Nie had spoken during his visit, it sounded as if he had encouraged Wen Ruohan to come up with some clever way out of the situation, rather than suggesting that one already existed.

Moreover, he wasn’t sure that Wen Ruohan considered a marriage to be a lifetime decision. Hadn’t he been married before, had sons before? It was only that they had all died…

“Lan-er-gongzi!” A runner came up to him, saluting. “The Sect Leader asks that you report to the hanshi at once.”

“That’s probably your invitation,” Lan Yueheng said, sounding mildly disapproving – undoubtedly he thought weddings were a waste of time compared with doing experiments. Taking inspiration from his work with Lan Qiren in merging math and music, he’d recently expanded his interests from mathematics to alchemy, and Lan Qiren grimly foresaw many exploding furnaces in the Lan sect’s immediate future. At least they had some out-of-the-way places for him to work, or else there'd also be a lot of punishments for violating the rules about too much noise in Lan Yueheng's personal future. “It’ll probably make you miss the first week of this season’s classes, too…well, try not to be too bored.”

Sadly, Lan Qiren did not think being bored would be an option.

Sure enough, when he arrived at the hanshi where his father and brother were waiting alongside several sect elders, the subject of discussion was the invitation he had received to attend the wedding.

“As Sect Leader Wen’s sworn brother, naturally you must attend,” his brother told him. “We will also be sending a delegation from the Lan sect to attend on our behalf officially, but your position is different. You must be careful not to offend anyone.”

Lan Qiren saluted. “I will do my best.”

“Sect Leader Wen will not be kind if you lose face for him, especially at his wedding, even if it is inadvertent - or even if what you do is perfectly correct by our standards,” one of the other elders, one of the older teachers, the well-respected if sleepy one, said. He sounded concerned on Lan Qiren's behalf, which Lan Qiren appreciated. “You must especially take care not to offend his new bride. Even where the marriage is made for the purpose of power and there is no expectation of love, a man does not like to have disturbances in his back courtyard.”

“Especially if the stories are true and Sect Leader Wen hopes for sons,” the teacher in swordsmanship responded, his voice a little acidic. He was still unhappy with Lan Qiren over what had happened during their visit to the Nightless City; Lan Qiren did his best to avoid him whenever possible. “I doubt Sect Leader Wen will persist in trying to raise one of our children once he has one of his own.”

That explained the sour expressions on the faces of his brother and some of the elders, Lan Qiren thought. They had hoped to use him to manipulate Wen Ruohan, though the exact method of how they would have done so escaped him no matter how he analyzed the words he had overheard that night in the hanshi, and Wen Ruohan had neatly evaded their snare with a countermove of his own – as with weiqi, so with politics, he assumed. A disappointment, as always.

“A brotherhood is for life,” Lan Qiren’s father said, voice distant as always, neutral as always. “There are ten months at minimum before any son is born, and all the years after; even if Sect Leader Wen forgets about his obligations, that does not mean that we must. There will be other opportunities.”

“Provided Qiren does not provide grounds for Sect Leader Wen to abjure the relationship,” his brother interjected.

“I will try my best not to do so,” Lan Qiren said again, stiff as always, though he suspected his brother was simply stating a fact rather than casting doubt on him. “When should I prepare myself to depart?”

“The delegation leaves tomorrow morning,” his brother said. “You will need to give a personal gift to your sworn brother in addition to the sect’s gift. I have selected several options; come with me to pick the one you prefer.”

Lan Qiren saluted the elders and wordlessly followed his brother to the treasury. He liked none of the gifts his brother had selected, thinking that they all seemed a bit too gaudy even for a recipient whose tastes tended toward the luxurious – a bit more Lanling Jin than Qishan Wen, and not at all something he would select for himself – but eventually he chose a heavy golden crown that seemed to be not too far from the ones that he’d seen Wen Ruohan wear in the past.

“Not the dagger?” his brother asked, his voice thick with irony that Lan Qiren did not understand, nodding towards another of the options, a golden-hilt blade so purely polished that one could see their reflection in it.

“Sect Leader Wen has a rich collection which we cannot hope to match,” Lan Qiren said, thinking of those peerless treasure swords rusting away as wall decorations in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom. “Moreover, it’s a wedding, which represents two parts joining together into a single whole, while a gift of a knife implies severing. It is therefore inappropriate for such an occasion.”

“Brothers who have shared blood cannot be separated. It is a suitable gift from a sworn brother.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the options, feeling a little helpless. “If you would like me to change my selection…”

“The guan is fine,” his brother said, and shook his head, seeming almost a little pitying. “You are very good to be concerned with your sworn brother’s feelings, no matter how your relationship came about. Too much goodness can be seen as weakness, you know.”

I thought I wasn’t supposed to be making trouble? Lan Qiren thought to himself. Still, since his brother did not seem inclined to elaborate, he handed the gift to one of the servants to be put into an appropriate box.

In actuality, he had already selected a personal gift of his own, shortly after he had first heard about the impending wedding – it had seemed reasonable that he would need to send a gift, even if he didn't expect to actually be invited, and it had not occurred to him that he would be allowed to utilize the sect treasury for such a thing. He’d gone to Caiyi Town and purchased a small set of drinking bowls, applying the glaze himself as the artisan spun the pots; they had gone into the kiln immediately thereafter, and he was expecting the delivery today – in fact, it was probably already waiting in his room.

He would pack the set up with his personal items and give it to Wen Ruohan anyway, he decided. After all, he’d opted to do the design in Wen sect red rather than Lan sect blue, rendering it useless for his own purposes, and it would be worse to simply throw it away or to let it sit and gather dust. Being frugal is a virtue, after all.

Of course, if he were truly being frugal, he would have told his brother that he did not need an additional gift and left the guan alone, but he didn’t want to reject his brother’s kindness, either, rare as it was. Better to just eat the loss of the funds and have Wen Ruohan think him a spendthrift…

“Sect Leader Wen will undoubtedly have you stay in the Sun Palace during your visit,” his brother said abruptly, and Lan Qiren looked at him: his brother wasn’t looking at him, but into the distance, and his fingers twitched at his side in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. “As his sworn brother, it would be inappropriate for him to put you in the guest quarters, or to fail to allow you free mobility through the Nightless City.”

“That seems likely,” Lan Qiren agreed hesitantly, not sure why his brother was mentioning it.

“He is fortunate that you are not naturally observant,” his brother said. “Otherwise one might fear that you would use the opportunity to learn more about how the Wen sect works – its treasures, its secrets. Its plans for the future.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Lan Qiren said quickly. “Have courtesy and integrity, after all. Even if I were to discover something incidentally, naturally I would be honor-bound not to share it without informing Sect Leader Wen that I had done so.”

His brother sighed, his fingers abruptly unclenching. “Of course you would. How could anyone doubt it…I don’t suppose you’ve ever given any thought to Do not forget the grace of your forefathers?”

“Of course I have. That’s one of the fundamental rules,” Lan Qiren said, now absolutely bewildered. “That we should live up to the expectations of our ancestors, both in our good conduct and discipline, and in supporting our sect so that our descendants may honor them equally.”

His brother shook his head. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you. You were tricked into an oath like a virgin maiden into a sweet-talker’s bed, weren't you?” he said. Lan Qiren really didn’t understand how his brother’s mind worked that he kept changing subjects like this. “I just wonder that you aren’t more resentful of the one that did it, the way anyone else would be. The way you act, you’d think Sect Leader Wen had done you a favor; you’re so considerate of him.”

Lan Qiren thought his brother might be being sarcastic, but he wasn’t very good at determining such things. “Even if the manner in which we became sworn brothers was unorthodox, the oaths have still been sworn,” he said, a little haltingly. “I cannot control his actions, only my own. Just because he might not be a good brother doesn’t mean I can’t be – isn’t that right?”

His brother glared at him. “If you have something to say, Qiren, you can say it directly.”

Lan Qiren was at an utter loss. “I – was?”

“Your teachers say that you’re brilliant,” his brother said, voice suddenly very cold. “I often wonder whether they’re not growing too old for their work.”

“I don’t –”

“Never mind. You’re dismissed.”

Lan Qiren saluted and returned to his quarters, puzzling over the conversation as he packed away his things for the trip. Was his brother trying to warn him against anyone encouraging him to act as a spy? Or was he trying to convince him to act as a spy himself? But if it was the latter, why wouldn’t he just say so? If it were truly necessary for some reason, for the good of the sect…

Was he supposed to volunteer?

But that would be truly breaking the oath of brotherhood – of which he still didn’t know the contents…

Lan Qiren supposed that, at least, was one thing he would be able to fix: very soon, he would be seeing his sworn brother again for the first time since they’d sworn their oaths.

Maybe he’d find a way to ask.

[transhawks]

I got into dabi*hawks because of the potential of rivals/enemies-to-lovers and I thought they could have really interesting interactions and fics involving them could delve into some really interesting areas about morality and the grey areas (and the fact that they’re basically foils, a son of a villain who became a hero blinded to certain shortcomings and the son of a hero who became a villain because that was all he saw, yet they share similarities in their fucked up childhoods and the fact they’re basically going further down ‘bad’ paths in the current chapters, the fact they’re on different sides but in another life in another context in different events they may have been able to relate to each other..)..all to say I basically just started liking it because the idea of them interacting and their dynamic was interesting especially if they’re forced to consider the other’s views and work together (hawks in general I’m a big fan of vigilante or villain fics where he becomes more against how fucked hero society is and decides to take an alternate path to fix it) and I think hawks deciding to take more of the villains’ side is a more interesting plot line than if he ultimately dies trying to make up for his mistakes a hero, but..I feel like with how popular dabi*hawks got people think people only ship it because it’s hot or whatever and the view of it has significantly tipped down to where people get made fun of. (even though I feel hero/villain pairings are popular for a lot of these reasons in basically any media.) I have no idea where I was going with this when I started typing but I wanted to express my appreciation for finding a blog that can both like the content while neither pretending canon events didn’t happen/justifying bad things either one did nor acting like dabi*hawks fans are rabid yaoi fans who “ignore canon for their hot ship” or support abuse (I’ve never understood that one, they’re on opposite sides in canon and of course are going to fight, it’s not an interpersonal relationship in canon, so that’s basically saying all enemies to lovers is abuse regardless of context for no real reason, which is like of insulting as an abuse survivor)

One, the immense popularity, and subsequent lack of quality of shipping (as with everything, not everything made is good, and a lot of it isn't meant to be 'good' as you or I define it) does in fact give people the wrong perception or a very skewed one.

Additionally, some Dabihawks fans are in a bit of a tight spot where very hero-approving Hawks fans, the type who think he did nothing wrong, think the pairing is just a bunch of denial of little substance, meanwhile the other of the spectrum, a lot of hard-core villain stans hate it due to Hawks not living up to a lot of the 'promise' much of us saw early on.

And you talk about that promise; hit it dead on. Hawks's narrative is fascinating due to a lot of the could haves. It's why he is so richly paralleling most of the League. It's why his character is so goddamn complex.

Dabihawks started as a joke you know, I remember it. I was still new in the fandom and skipping ahead because I hate the overhaul arc when Hawks debuted. And at that point I hadn't really focused too much on the villains besides liking Dabi for being very obviously connected to Shouto, but Mirshroom kind of drew a "what if hawks and dabi went to hero school together and knew each other" thing even before we knew Hawks was a spy, and we all started calling it hotwings and thinking of the irony since Hawks was a walking icarus parallel to us...

And then.. The narrative happened.

Suddenly we were embroiled in a spy plot, and an intriguing story of a boy forced to become a hero who looked up to Endeavor, and Endeavor's likely son, born to be a hero but couldn't be one, so he became a villain. And Hawks had to work with him, pretend to be a villain.

It was beautiful.

It is beautiful.

It's gotten so much better: Hawks, the son of a villain, saved by Enji. Dabi, who has ruined Hawks's life, and yet, managed to free his shackles by destroying the cage, and yet Hawks will go back and defend the man he feels created him.

Even people who hate the pairing, and there are many good reasons I can list of stuff I don't care for in portrayals, might find it hard to deny; the setup reads like a Greek tragedy.

It reads like an epic romance novel.

And no one says those end happily, in fact, the appeal is, that they usually don't but so much of what affects us in the end is the knowledge it could have.

The clashing of two different ideologies, two perceptions of wrong and right, of justice.. One boy who was 'saved', one who wasn't.

There's so much richness that can be mined in the dynamic.

And, I guess, many are let down by canon not delivering. First off, clearly whatever this stuff between Hawks and Dabi is, it's still happening. There's unanswered questions and Horikoshi did not choose to end 299 and 300 in the exact same panel for both of them for nothing.

Whatever Hawks's fate is, it's tied to Dabi. It's tied to the Todoroki storyline. We don't know what will happen. There's been so many fics early on of us predicting one will try to kill the other - usually Dabi, and it's happened, but it might happen in reverse. That Hawks might try and kill Dabi.

The more optimistic among us, like me, can hope that Hawks somehow redeems himself by returning to his real origins - not of loving Endeavor, but being the boy who saved people he didn't know. By actually beinf a hero and saving someone who by all accounts shouldn't be saved, even if it means his life.

Even this far, through this much, can't you see how there's still so much ifs and can happens?

That's the beauty of it.

This is not a post, I think, saying other pairings are worse, or lack these qualities. Because that isn't true. But it is a post explaining why, even in the swamp of awful out of character portrayals, or people undervaluing the importance of the League, or ignorant inconvenient truths about Hawks's motivations and character, there is still so much promise and beauty in dabihawks. It's why I still ship it, and why I likely will until the end.

It's not happy. It's not neat. Like most enemies to lovers ships, there is messiness. But canon has provided a framework full of potential and exploration. And that's why it's still here as a ship.

Because we see the beauty in it.

[okay-victoria]

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

[katsidhe]

hi, could you do 10.4 for ep reviews

10.04 Final Thoughts

It’s been a hot minute, but I’m still doing these! I remember being frustrated by this episode when I first watched it. But hey, it’s actually pretty good, and I enjoy it a lot more after s13-15 than I ever could in the s10 era.

There is a fix, and there is no fix.

Such a large part of season 10 is about a meta signal that the fun of s9/the first few episodes of s10 is coming to a close--the fun as in, setting Sam and Dean specifically and indisputably at odds, in a way where Dean is specifically in the wrong. So much of my antipathy towards s10 is tied up in that miserable little beach scene timeskip, in what it fundamentally deflects. Gone forever is the movement that s9 implied. Gone forever is the chance at a reckoning. And it needn’t have been that way, not necessarily. I have such complicated emotions about s10. 

But, y’know, despite the show signaling that it wants to tell us that the strife of s9 is over, that the brothers aren’t mad at each other anymore, that their relationship is being reset back to basics, there’s a lot that simply can’t be reset. And it’s in those spaces that I like season 10, where the narrative focus isn’t on what is or isn’t the Mark’s influence, or how Dean’s dealing with being even more rage-y than usual: where the unresolved past is all that we get and all that we need. 

Dean needling Sam about wearing a sling... like haha fucking nerd, wearing a goofy sling because you got injured trying to undemonify me. Classic comedy. 

Also classic comedy: it is HILARIOUS that both the show and Dean are trying to make the Lester situation into some moral watershed for Sam. Especially when Dean’s the guy who killed him, lmao. 

And Sam’s not tormented or apologetic about it, he’s literally just--confused! Like me, he really doesn’t see any moral line he crossed there that he and Dean haven’t crossed on the daily for years.  

It’s overtly, hilariously, a “And now we’re both in the wrong” moment--Dean trying to draw a false equivalence between their respective degeneracies in the early part of s10. It’s the same equivalence that the show tried to pull, tonally. Supernatural has a real addiction to this kind of attempted equalization—it needs the brothers on the same level even when they aren’t; it presupposes that an interesting conflict requires that both parties be more or less equally in the “wrong”. 

That moment when Sam says—I watched you die. I carried your corpse. I put your dead body on your bed. Well, it hits different now, doesn’t it. 

This is my favorite type of SPN MOTW episode, where we dispense entirely with any plausible deniability or narrative posturing, and go ahead and make parallels into anvils. Like, of course we’re doing a case about a sister whose craving for blood and power has rendered her uncontrollably violent. Naturally.  

The core thread here is what is and isn’t Kate’s sister, and therefore what is and isn’t Dean. It’s both an excuse and a reckoning. Tasha did not take on her curse by choice, but she chose to use it to leverage her power over other people—in doing so, she becomes someone Kate says, dramatically, isn’t her sister. 

Sam uses it to set Dean apart from his actions and from the Mark, to exonerate him, and to justify violence/action against demon!Dean. He doesn’t need to forgive Dean, he doesn’t need Dean’s apologies or thank-yous, because he simply says it wasn’t Dean. 

To complicate our parallels, though, it’s Kate who made a medical decision for Tasha without her knowledge or consent, and then Kate who kills Tasha--a Righteous Kill (tm) through and through, done for the ~real~ Tasha’s own good. 

Obviously it’s also to prevent Tasha from continuing to be a super-powered serial killer for no good reason, too. But the narrative thrust here has a delightfully uncomfortable kill-her-to-save-her element... such that even though I got the feeling while watching that we were meant to be fearing Sam killing a Mark-addled Dean, it just fundamentally couldn’t land that way. That move is just way too Dean-coded. 

10.04 actually does a great job of encapsulating s10 at its best: the strange combination of ignoring and glorifying and dismantling the show’s underpinnings, all with a baffling degree of a lack of self-awareness. The rich irony of Dean wanting so badly to do the right thing, juxtaposed with him ready to kill at the drop of a hat, would be more interesting if it weren’t already what the show is about, sans murder tattoo. 

[astrowithkaro]

Hi could you do december 13th, please?

Language Of Birthdays: December 13 - Sagittarius

[You can find the rest of the series here; or check out my masterlist]

The Day Of Exacting Craft

Those born on December 13 not only have a feeling for the big line but also the details. Painstaking in their work, they craft what they have slowly, carefully, precisely—with- out losing sight of their long-range goals. Thus they are able to combine the qualities of expansion and limitation in their personalities, enhancing greatly their chances of success. However, they do run the danger of getting stuck in an overly minute examination of the matter at hand, becoming overcautious or fearful, perhaps getting bogged down or even giving up altogether due to discouragement. Thus their expansive ambitions can be a kind of burden if it appears hopeless that they will reach distant and lofty goals in a reasonable amount of time.

Fortunately, December 13 people are usually in it for the long haul. Though they may experience discouragement, even depression for relatively short periods, they recognize that nothing which is really of value can be accomplished overnight. In fact they are usually highly suspicious of supposed shortcuts, acceleration plans, get-rich schemes and the like. Yet although despising superficiality, they can have trouble breaking through to the more profound in themselves. At times caught in a web of personal professional entanglements, they may lack the breathing space needed to dig deeper and find meaning in their lives.

December 13 people are psychologists of a kind, fascinated by the underlying motivations of their family members, friends and colleagues. They often display a fine sense of irony regard- ing the human condition (their own faults and foibles included) and can see through personal- it)' facades and defence mechanisms of all kinds. They may see themselves as detectives in the great mystery story of life itself. Others may not always appreciate their perceptiveness, and indeed December 13 people must learn to be respectful of privacy by at times drawing in their antennae.

For those born on this day, talents of craft are less often expressed in the actual making of physical objects, but rather in the conception, planning and graceful execution of projects. December 13 people can be very successful as long as they do not treat means to ends as ends in themselves, polishing the knob of the door so long that they forget to open it!Those born on December 13 can unfortunately display erratic tendencies and personal peculiarities which not only get in the way of their work but also create difficulties in their inter- personal and family relationships. They are better off when they allow themselves to compromise occasionally for the sake of harmony and thus make things easier for those with whom they are working or living. Above all. they have to avoid getting on people's nerves through being too fussy or demanding.

Strengths:

Attentive

Perceptive

Thoughtful

Weaknesses:

Disturbing

Irritating

Fussy

Advice

December 13 people can be overly concerned with their health. They may have some strange ideas not only about what is wrong with them but also about how to treat it. Thus they sometimes create more troubles than they actually cure. The latest in conventional medicine, dubious new-age cures and seemingly benign homeopathic remedies may all need to be viewed with a wary eye. Perhaps the best safeguard for those born on this day is a good physician or medical advisor. As far as diet and physical exercise are concerned. December 13 people should beware of obsessive attention to detail and endlessly readjusting their approach sticking to tried and true recipes and diets will best keep them in balance; moderate physical exercise is encouraged.

Don't get caught in a trap of your own making

Remember to keep moving on

There is a point at which polishing becomes a wearing away

Allow for the foibles and idiosyncrasies of others, too

You aren't the only one who requires latitude

[vanaera]

The Heart Holiday | Act 2 (1/2) | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing their PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives manager!myg x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat)

Wordcount: 24k

Warnings: Just lots of cursing because of two characters who won’t stop fighting (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | I cut Act 2 into two parts because it has become enormously long. Expect the next part of Act 2 next week!

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               The irony did not escape Y/N that she’s wringing her hands non-stop since yesterday all because of a simple meeting. It’s not because Nancy Kim arranged it. She’s probably holding a champagne glass while yelling at room service in some posh hotel in Paris. No, Y/N is anxious not because of Nancy. Instead, it’s because of a meeting in a coffee shop with her supposed ticket-out from work: The Despicable Mean Yoongi.

               Y/N has handled every meeting she’s been invited to down to a T. Being Nancy’s PA for over two years and a half has done her good in learning how to manage the communication in a business setting among professionals who may more often than not, become unprofessional. Being Nancy’s PA means she has to be the boss’ human-filter for incoming human-bullshits. An investor wanted to pull out? Y/N can appease them with a quick but convincing rundown of Travel Loca’s steadying growth. The laptop suddenly hangs while Nancy is currently reporting to their business partners? Y/N knows some troubleshooting techniques to quickly get the gadget running again. The rich and flavorful coffee granules Nancy saves for important guests have run out right during a meeting with the said guests? Y/N has a speed of a 60-year old Asian grandma who can speed-walk through a 5 km marathon to make up for her legs’ lack of vertical length.  Y/N likes to believe she’s got the patience of a meditating monk, the wisdom of a quick-thinking electrician, and the perseverance and resilience of a cockroach. If universities had a bachelor in meetings program, Y/N would probably graduate summa cum laude, easily outshining her cum laude standing in BA Mass Communication.

               However, all of that goes down to drain the moment Y/N attended the same meeting as Min Yoongi for the very first time.

               It was a Thursday in March of 2019. Y/N’s not sure of the exact date. All she remembers is that it had to be a Thursday. That meeting was the wick that started the chain of her unfortunate Thursdays.

               Sure, Min Yoongi got on Y/N’s “off” side the moment she first met him in the new table set up beside hers. But even if Y/N thinks he’s one hell of an arrogant bastard, a 24/7 picky prick, and a condescending narcissist, Y/N still left a breathable room in her mind for Yoongi to disprove her assumptions.

               And Yoongi burned up that room into ash that Thursday meeting.

               “Since we’re done with the weekly reports of the Creatives and the Marketing, let’s go to the Writing Department,” Nancy leans back in her black swivel chair. She flips through the pages of the department’s report, sparing a glance once in a while to the department’s representative of the day, Lee Soojung.

               The rustle of the papers almost becomes the white noise in the tensely silent conference room. Nancy always had a stiff authoritarian aura that induces anyone to be constantly on their toes around her. Her intimidating effect on her employees doesn’t seem to wear off even if the latter had been in Travel Loca since day one. Soojung herself has been in the company one month after Travel Loca’s establishment. Yet, here she is, nervously biting on her lip as her feet shake under the table.

               Y/N’s glad Nancy’s chair isn’t set far back enough for her to see Soojung’s jittering legs, or else Nancy will go at the “confidence you should have in work in order to stay” sermon again. Y/N first heard that “speech” (it counts so because Nancy almost spoke for twenty-minutes straight) in her first two months in the company, during a meeting where Nancy spoke about Steven’s potential to have a higher position if he could be more confident. And just like Nancy’s words, Steven did indeed climb the hierarchy after being more confident in presenting his works. He’s now the head of the Creative’s Team and even someone Y/N can say Nancy has accountable respect for. Y/N learned a lot from that speech. But having Nancy repeat it again whenever she sees someone who’s insecure in talking about their work? It slowly loses its charm.

               Y/N loses her tight grip on her notebook. It’s understandable why everyone has their hackles raised high now. Nancy is currently judging one of their department’s progress and if something is not up to par, another excruciating hour of Nancy’s “speeches” is awaiting punishment. Except, Y/N knows Nancy. With her absorbed attention to the report, indicated by the longer time her eyes spend on the department’s drafts instead of Soojung, Y/N knows Nancy is satisfied with their work.

               Y/N leans back in her chair and releases a sigh. It’s been a while since she’s been in a meeting without Nancy scaring off an employee out of their wits. This momentary peace, however, is shattered when she feels a sharp poke on her shoulder.

               “Hey, what’s happening?”

               Y/N rolls her eyes. With an additional P.A., comes an additional table next to her station, an additional work tablet to coordinate with hers, and an additional seat in the conference room next to her. All of these would be okay to Y/N if the additional P.A. is not as much of a douche as Yoongi.

               Nevertheless, Y/N shifts in her seat to lean closer to Yoongi and whisper to his ear, “Nancy’s deliberating the Writing Department’s work.”

               Yoongi raises a brow, “Then why is Soojung shaking over there like a shivering dog kicked to the curb?”

              Y/N tries hard not to let her temper get the better of her. Yoongi’s only been in Travel Loca for one fucking week. How could he dare to describe his senior in such an insulting way? Y/N closes her eyes and says, “Because, Soojung is the representative of the department right now. And from what I’ve heard, most of the drafts were also written by her because most of her subordinates’ articles were too…raw for next month’s issue.

               Yoongi squints, “Soojung? As in Lee Soojung wrote most of them?”

               Y/N couldn’t understand why Yoongi is so perplexed as if he can’t believe what he just heard. Y/N cannot help but glare at him, “Yoongi, Soojung has been one of Travel Loca’s long-time writers. Of course, she’s already mastered the nitty-gritty of what Nancy wants for an issue. And look, Nancy is satisfied with her work. Otherwise, she would have already thrown their drafts across the table.”

               “Are you kidding me?” Yoongi whispers louder, “Have you read Soojung’s works? They all sound cardboard cut-outs of every travel magazine out there. Could be mistaken even as a feature in a newspaper instead of a magazine. Heck, they can’t even make me want to travel anywhere. They all sound like a scammer real estate agent except she’s telling me to unnecessarily spend a lot on plane tickets and hotel reservations and pretend to have a nice vacation when I know I most probably would not.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops, “Are you for real? You can’t just downgrade Soojung’s works! She wouldn’t stay this long here if Nancy didn’t find her works satisfactory. And look, even right now, Nancy is pretty much okay with it!”

               Yoongi tilts his head, “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy. Everything is about Nancy now, huh?”

               “Of course! Nancy is the boss! She gets to decide what’s okay or not for publishing!” Y/N rolls her eyes and finally lets out a scoff, “Why do you have to judge something that’s out of your expertise anyway? You don’t write. And I bet even if you try your best to, you can’t produce something better than even half of Soojung’s articles.”

               Yoongi lets out a humorless chuckle, “I don’t write because I don’t want to write. What about you? You act all-mighty judgmental of what articles are satisfactory or not. You even rant to Mina about writing a story you’ve been thinking about countless of times—especially the story about that Write and Backpack Trip Club you speak about again and again. And yet, you don’t even write anything all.”

               What the ever-living fucking audacity of this astounding jerk of an asshole—!

               “Okay, I like these drafts. Not the best we’ve had but pretty above passable for next month’s issue,” Nancy places the folder back on the table, “But, we’re quite short on stories. The Daily Pen reviewed our issues as promising but lacking a few stories to make our monthly themes more, quote-unquote ‘solid.’ And so, I’m thinking of expanding our usual count of nine to twelve stories for the next three months. Try to check if The Daily Pen’s suggestion may help increase our reader count as well as positive feedback from our reviewers. So,” Nancy places her clasped hands on the table, “does any of you have a story to share? Or any ideas? We can still rush the Writing Department for two or three more articles.”

               The room goes immediately silent. No one shakes their legs. No one taps their nails on the onyx conference table. No one skims through their reports. Everyone suddenly makes the floor-to-ceiling windows the most interesting object to stare at.

               Until the silence gets broken by Nancy herself.

               “Oh, Yoongi, what’s your story?”

               Y/N whips her head to her side. Yoongi is looking at her funny. She mouths ‘what the fuck are you trying to do?’ but Yoongi just smirks. He meets Nancy’s gaze, “I don’t have a story but I know someone who has: Y/N.”

               Everyone’s attention on the windows was now shifted to Y/N. Soojung shifts in her seat, feet no longer jittering, eyes curiously pinned on Y/N. The rest of her co-workers’ eyes are just pleading for her to give what Nancy likes to finally end this meeting. Y/N has never felt this much attention focused on her until her cum laude awarding in her graduation. Sure, having some attention felt nice. There are times when people really enjoy the spotlight, some even needing it—the pleasure of feeling being wanted and treated precious. But Y/N doesn’t want attention laced with risk—the risk of embarrassment, of disappointment, especially from someone Y/N has looked up to as her “writing idol” for years. But then, this could be an opportunity for her skills to get recognized by Nancy so she can finally leave her P.A. station and transfer her boxes to the Writing Department.  Y/N wrings her hands together before quickly placing them behind her back.

               “U-um, I have a s-story about the nine places broke college students usually go to for a backpacking trip.”

              “And what are these places?”

               “Um,” Y/N gulps, “mountains and hiking trails—N-no, I mean, places like unseen from the popular media, but places that may be popular to the locals. Like man-made hiking parks installed near the cliffy side of a mountain. ‘Cliffy’ because it looks like a cliff, but it’s not actually a cliff. It’s just a mountainside that’s steep enough to look like a cliff. A-and cool hangout places with aesthetically-pleasing but cheap restaurants. The-the-there are also beaches that usually have few visitors that don’t charge hefty on their entrance fee. T-they’re very affordable and I think we can do like a top-nine-ranking thing to make a recommendation list of these, as I know a few college orgs that have already created great itineraries—”

               “My bad, Nancy, I’m gonna take back what I said.”

               What just—Y/N turns to her right, to look at the man that’s suddenly cut her off, but Yoongi’s eyes are trained to Nancy as he says, “I don’t think Y/N has a story yet. I’m sorry, I’ve been mistaken.”

               “Apology accepted,” Nancy dismissively waves a hand. She turns her swivel chair back towards the conference table, “I’m glad you immediately stopped your co-P.A. before we get to hear her…story.”

               Y/N doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. She just slumped back on her seat, ears fading out the rest of her surroundings into white noise. When everyone has finally stood from their seats, their respective departments’ reports clutched in their hands, Y/N’s still unmoving on her seat. She could only give a tight smile as each representatives-of-the-day passed and gave her apologetic smiles. Even when Soojung neared her seat to give some reassurance, Y/N remained stone-still and just waved her off with a quick “It’s okay.” The hazy white noise only dissipates when Nancy stands up and taps Y/N’s shoulder, saying, “We’ve still got work to do.”

               Y/N nods and gathers her minutes and notebook before quickly following her boss. When she turns around to reach the lights switch, there’s no one left in the conference room. Yoongi has long left the room.

               Why did Yoongi recommend Y/N in the first place when he’s just gonna take back his recommendation? Is he just fucking around with her? To prove that she cannot write her own article? What did Y/N ever do to him, but internally judge him in her mind, to be publicly humiliated like this? Especially in front of Nancy! Y/N gets the answers to these questions in the two months that followed with the goddamned prick of a man lazing around her station: Yoongi hates her for no reason and he’s doing everything he can to sabotage her career. He proves this conclusion again and again as he messes up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy, refuses to coordinate like an immature prepubescent boy, and criticizes her for every story proposal, story idea, word choice, heck even pronunciation, in every pitch meeting Y/N attends.

               None of Y/N’s assumptions can ever be truer than her description of Min Yoongi: one hell of an arrogant bastard, a 24/7 picky prick, and a condescending narcissist who thinks he’s the only person viable for greatness just because he magically manages to not pay the consequences of his misdeeds.

               And today, Y/N jots down “unprofessionally late” to her list of descriptions for the man as she glances at her watch and deduces 15 minutes have passed since their agreed meeting time. Will Yoongi stand her up even after agreeing to her offer? Y/N doesn’t know and she’s starting to not care anymore. From the start, she knew going with this idea will only end up worse than bad. It’s always gonna end up worse than bad when it comes to Yoongi. Y/N’s no longer gonna be surprised. She has numerous dating apps installed on her phone for back-up plans anyway—

               “Hey, sorry I’m late,” Y/N looks up from her notebook and sees Yoongi pulling a chair in front of her.

               She stops wringing her hands.

DAY 1 – January 26; Sunday

               Y/N sips on her milkshake as she encircles the date on the calendar of her notebook, “So today’s January 26. This will mark the first day of our two weeks so we can make it to February 9, Sunday, the last day of PRS applications in the DRM.”

               Yoongi nods as he sips on his iced Americano.

               “And then—”

               “Wait, what does PRS mean again?”

               Y/N’s hand stills, “You seriously don’t know what PRS means?”

               “Obviously not, since I’m asking about it,” Yoongi deadpans, “I wouldn’t ask something I already know, you know? It’s not like me to be illogical—”

               “Okay, fine,” Y/N closes her eyes and purses her lips, “I will explain it as long as you shut up for just a minute and let me talk.”

              Yoongi tilts his head and Y/N takes it as his cue of agreement. She sighs as she flips a page on her notebook and writes “The Heart Holiday” on the header. “Okay, so you already know that The Heart Holiday guarantees anyone who’s in a relationship a work-free, full-paid vacation leave during the week of Valentines. This year, it’s gonna be from February 9 to 14. Now, to get the viability for that vacation leave, the DRM—Department of Relationship Management—"

              “You don’t have to tell me what DRM means. I already know that.”

              Y/N eyes Yoongi and blinks at him. Slowly. “Didn’t I tell you to let me talk for a minute? You’re asking me what’s with PRS and I’m giving you an answer right now.”

              “Sorry,” Yoongi mutters, far from being apologetic with his growing smirk on his face.

               Y/N closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, “Anyway, the DRM issues PRS or ‘Proof of Relationship Status.’ The PRS indicates your civil status.  Single, married, divorced, separated and widowed—the basics. What’s only new is the addition of “in a relationship” status, made effective by the DRM in 2015, the same year the department was established.  It was initially for the DRM to track the people’s progress in their love lives to better monitor any improvement in the country’s birth rates. Now it’s used for applications for the Heart Holiday.”

               “Seems like the government is desperate for everyone to make babies,” Yoongi snorts over his straw.

               “With a global declining birth rate and continuous decline of immigrants, of course, the government is gonna be desperate. Economic analysts say it’s because countries are afraid of risking their also-declining birth rates. But I think It’s got to do more with the growing discrimination of immigrants. Numerous blockheads of government officials are still holding onto the archaic nonsensical ‘conspiracy theory’ as the reason behind their irrational hatred of immigrants. Anyway,” Y/N draws a bullet below ‘PRS,’ “Everyone’s default PRS will be ‘single’ until they reach 18 and apply for a PRS-change to ‘in a relationship.’  As long as you’re 18 and above, you are viable for ‘in a relationship’ PRS-change.”

               Yoongi slices through his sandwich, “Why 18? Do only 18-and-above-year-olds have the right to be in a relationship?”

               Y/N sputters, “You seriously don’t know? Do you ever read any updates on our new laws?”

               “I told you,” Yoongi mumbles over his sandwich, “I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you. And, first off, you’re the one who tied me up in this deal. It’s only logical to ask about what I’m getting myself into before I fully commit to anything.”

               “‘Fu-fully commit’?” Y/N gawks, “So you’re not yet serious about this? You told me two days ago you’re in on my plan!”

               “Yeah, I am in your plan. I am in at the beginning of your plan. Not at the middle or end of it.”

               Y/N slams her hands on the table, “Then why the hell did you even agree to my offer if you’re not even serious in taking it seriously?!”

               “I agreed so I get to decide if I can make my exit before things get un-exit-able or if I can push through with your plan. Which is what I’m doing now. Weighing the pros and cons,” Yoongi leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “Y/N, you need me in this plan. Not the other way around. So I get to have the upper hand here. And by the looks of it, this offer is starting to look exit-able.”

               Y/N tongues her cheek. She could feel red hot flames of rage tongue the confines of her throat. Min Yoongi cannot play her like this when she practically sacrificed her self-esteem and self-preservation when she proposed him this offer. He can’t just pull the “who needs who” card when he’s also going to benefit from this deal. Nevertheless, Y/N puts a lid on that rage before it can climb up and lap at her brain. She can’t let her temper get the better of her when she still needs Yoongi to fully commit to her plan. Think of this as delayed gratification, Y/N. It’s either suck up Yoongi’s bullshit and enjoy the holidays, or rejoice in calling him off but suffer Nancy’s workload during the holidays.

               Y/N sighs and continues on the diagram she was forming on her notebook while taking a bite from her pasta platter, “Going back, what was your question again?”

               “Why do only 18-year-olds and above get to have the ‘in a relationship’ PRS? What about 16-year-old high school couples? Are they not allowed to be in a relationship?”

               Y/N tries not to cringe at the nonsense of his question, “Minors are allowed to date—as long as it’s not a pedophilic relationship, of course. Just puppy love and all that. But they don’t get to have the PRS because they won’t even need it. PRS is only used for social security, healthcare benefits, and loan applications. Obviously, they’re not yet old enough to legally work to qualify for these applications. And also, education establishments are already ensured to have one week off during the Heart Holiday—including the school’s staff, whether or not they have ‘in a relationship’ ticked for that holiday.”

              “Hmm, then what happens in a PRS-change if you got married?”

              “The couple doesn’t have to go to DRM anymore for a PRS change. The DRM automatically changes it because the marriage certificate will go through them the same time it goes through the court. Whether a couple applied for ‘in a relationship’ before marrying each other, or if they didn’t, it doesn’t matter. DRM will automatically change their status from ‘in a relationship’ to ‘married’ or ‘single’ to ‘married.’ So when you have the PRS ‘married’ ticked, you’re automatically viable to avail the Heart Holiday, too, because you, by logic, are in a relationship if you’re already married.”

              Yoongi nods, “then what happens if you’re widowed, divorced, or separated?”

              “PRS-changes to ‘widowed’ and ‘divorced’ works the same way as ‘married.’ The DRM automatically changes them to these statuses when a death certificate is filed or divorce papers go through court. However, that means these status grant the people who have them no chance to avail the Heart Holiday anymore like single people. The DRM only recognizes people’s current—not recent— involvement in a relationship as the determining factor for the Heart Holiday’s benefits for ‘in a relationship’ PRS holders. With separated status, you need to go to DRM to apply the change of PRS from ‘married’ to ‘separated.’ Though this can be quite messy as DRM requires a lot of couples’ therapy for the couple before they can change the PRS. That’s why a lot of people suggest to just fake the annual interview of the DRM with your soon-to-be ex-partner for four years until you’re viable for the free divorce processing that comes only every four years in courts—or until you saved enough for an actual divorce.”

              “Why the hell does DRM fixate on separating couples and not on divorcing ones?” Yoongi frowns, “Are they blind? Both couples are breaking up their relationships. It’s the exact contrary to their goal of proliferating relationships.”

              “I know, right? It’s ridiculous,” Y/N shakes her head. “I’ve read a lot of critical essays against that separated and divorced PRS laws. And most of them say that DRM has no jurisdiction over divorce since money will be involved. That DRM wouldn’t attempt to hinder the cash flow to private law offices because of, you know, the government’s utter submission to large businesses and all that shit. Anyway, separated or widowed, you can apply for a PRS change to ‘in a relationship’ after six months. DRM states you need to heal first.”

              Y/N flips her notebook back onto the “Heart Holiday” page, “Now that I’ve educated you with the basics of PRS, let’s finally get down to what we will be doing.” Yoongi leans closer, setting his elbows on the wooden table. Y/N continues, “So, to change our ‘Single’ PRSs to ‘in a relationship,’ we need to have ten dates validated by DRM-approved establishments.”

              “Validated by what?”

              “DRM-approved establishments,” Y/N repeats, eyes turning into slits. “You don’t know date-site places have to go through the DRM? I get that you don’t know what PRS means. Just like how people use SIMs but don’t know they stand for ‘Subscriber Identity Module.’ I can also forgive you for the age technicalities of PRS since they were only updated last year. But for you not to know date sites—like this café—has to get approved by DRM first before it can stand as a business establishment? You’ve probably been single for a really looong time not to know this. Business requirements got changed the same time the DRM was established, Yoongi. Five years ago.”

              “I don’t know anything about this, okay? That’s why I’m asking you,” Yoongi also repeats. He sounds like a teacher reprimanding a student for asking a stupid question.

              Y/N smirks, “Oh, so it’s true then.”

              “What’s true?”

              The sight of utter confusion in Yoongi’s face makes Y/N smile to herself. She leans back in her chair, “Well…no one wants to date you.”

              “Excuse me,” Yoongi half-scoffs, half-sputters, “I’m single because I can’t find anyone worth losing some brain cells for.”

              “Ooh, says the man who I have seen eyeing Jeon Seoyeon beside my station for one whole year now but is too chicken to ask her out,” Y/N raises a brow. She tries not to make it look like she’s too enthralled to bring up this info. She wants to make Yoongi nervous she’s known about this Seoyeon thing for a while. However, she cannot help but let the smirk that’s been egging on her, grow on her face. Y/N doesn’t actually know anything about Seoyeon. She often forgets there’s also an employee stationed near her desk. It’s hard to recall a conversation she had with the business adviser that’s not work-related when there’s close to none. Y/N doesn’t even know if Soyeon has any associates she converses with other than her. Well to be fair, Nancy and work are enough to occupy Y/N’s focus for the day. She only knew something new about Soyeon when she hit up Mina last night for some counter-attack information on Yoongi. “A defense support should he piss me off,” as Y/N said.

              “Really?” Y/N’s eyes widen, “Yoongi actually has the heart to like someone in our office?”

              Mina nods, “I’m telling you right now. He’s into Seoyeon. From my cubicle, I’m sure I can see him definitely staring at Seoyeon. Break, lunch break, in-between working hours—it doesn’t matter. He just stands. And stares.”

              “How come you told me this only now?”

              “Because you don’t ask about Yoongi. You complain about him.” Y/N slaps her shoulder and Mina chuckles, “Fine, okay, I’ve only confirmed this last week when Jisoo sat with me and pointed out the same observation. You know I don’t just ask people about anybody should any drama arise about ‘Mina checking into everyone and scouring for some tea.’ I don’t want to be known ‘Mina the gossiper’ in the office. I’ve borne that title for 12 years in high school. I’m tired of that shit,” Mina waves off, “But you know?  After what Jisoo said, I know I had to ask. It’s not like only me and Jisoo have eyes. And that day proved it to me when everyone ‘round my cubicle said Yoongi’s indeed standing too long by your desk to look at someone beside your station—Seoyeon.” Mina grins, “you’ve finally got something on Yoongi, Y/N!”

              Hammurabi said “eye for an eye,” and so if someone pisses her off, Y/N should also piss them off. Yoongi’s been pissing her off for a while so it’s finally high-time Y/N also bare her canines.   Consulting Mina is definitely Y/N’s best decision so far ever since she thought about this shit-hole of a plan.

              “W-what?” Yoongi sputters, “I-I’m not into Seoyeon! I just find her…odd-looking for a civil lawyer. It’s weird to see Nancy have a business adviser. The Nancy Kim of all people? And Seoyeon, too! Especially with her rebellious vibe goin’ ‘round her multiple piercings and borderline appropriate-for-work punk outfits. She’s got her desk also awkwardly set up a foot from yours, making her look like a slave P.A. like you.”

              Y/N tries not to blow up at the red herring she just heard. She’s been arguing too long with Yoongi to know it’s his pathetic technique to change topics. Y/N’s not gonna skip on the chance card she used. “As if you don’t like her!”    

              Y/N scoffs, “I caught your eyes staring right beside my cubicle more than numerous times to put two and two together,” Y/N leans forward. She pins Yoongi with a stare, “Just admit you like her.”

              “I’m telling you I do not, okay?” Yoongi huffs, cheeks now growing pink under the lighting.

              “God, you obviously like her,” Y/N wheezes, “I finally confirmed something precious I can blackmail you with. Imagine everyone knowing ‘the great Min Yoongi’ is an immature prepubescent boy when it comes to girls he likes. Damn, do I have the fucking upper hand now, Min.”

              “You’ll only get to have that upper hand once you got your Valentine’s week canceled first,” Yoongi smirks, “Do I need to remind you I’m not yet fully in on your plan, sweetheart?”

              Y/N’s smile falls, “God, will you stop calling me that?”

              “No can do,” Yoongi patronizingly pouts at the syllable, “Not until you put down that douchey dictator-wannabe look on your face and just get down to the point before I could think of walking out right now.”

              “Okay, fine, Min,” Y/N sneers. She grabs her pen and writes on her notebook, this time, with much force that she’s sure Yoongi can hear from his place the squeaks of the ball-point pen on the paper, “SO AS I WAS SAYING, for your PRS to be changed to ‘in a relationship,’ DRM requires ten dates from their approved establishments. These establishments could be anything—a restaurant, an arcade, a cinema, a basketball game, a bar, an amusement park, etcetera. It’s indicated anyway in the establishment. You can see the pink and purple heart logo of the DRM in stickers on glass doors. Or in menus, like this,” Y/N pushes the café’s miniature menu-stand made of hardboard to Yoongi to show him the small print of the logo on its margin. “When a couple goes to that establishment for a date, they can ask for the shop to write them a document officializing their date. It’s called the date document. ‘This document confirms Park Junyoung and Lee Hwayoung have dated in our love-conducive establishment’ yaddah yaddah shit. Each approved establishment has a DRM seal. They press it on the document to validate their date. For example, look behind you.”

               Yoongi turns and looks at the young couple by the right end of the bar. The barista hands the two a pale pink envelope. The imprint of the heart-shaped logo of the DRM clearly engraved on the surface. The couple gives an appreciative smile to the barista before starting to head their way out.

               Yoongi turns back to Y/N, “So the envelopes must also be sealed?”

               “Yes, to ensure the couple won’t fake their dates.”

               “Then how do you know the first lines of these date documents?” Yoongi cocks a brow.

               “Because unlike you, I stay tuned to the local news and make sure I’m updated to law revisions. I can’t count on how many fingers the media has exposed DRM’s protocol-holes. Unlike someone out there who doesn’t know anything…,” Y/N looks at Yoongi. The man crosses his arms and gives her a bored look. Y/N looks back at her food and takes a bite from her platter, “Moving forward, aside from sealed 10 documents, a couple must also submit 10 printed accounts of the people around them that have witnessed their relationship. Unfortunately for us, we’re not self-employed. So we have to do the long way.”

              “Why? What’s the advantage of unemployed people?”

              “Self-employed people,” Y/N corrects. “They only need 10 accounts from any of their friends or family that have witnessed their relationship. Meanwhile, the DRM has overridden private company protocols and declared it is legally okay to date a co-worker. To ensure no one will abuse the benefits given by DRM to those in a relationship, private sectors agreed upon a standard for PRS-changes from single. Us employed are required to submit nine accounts from our co-workers, friends, or family, and one account from our supervisor, manager, or boss These accounts will be turned to the company’s HR Department to be analyzed. Then, they will be sealed in a magenta envelope with the DRM seal.” Y/N taps her pen on her notebook, “This special one account though depends on the company tradition. In Travel Loca, it is always Nancy who gets to write that one account. Even if Steven is the head of Creatives, or Mona is the supervisor of the marketing—it doesn’t matter. Nancy is the one who gets to write that account.”

              “But since Nancy is gone, that privilege is given to the next in the hierarchy—Ms. Teddy Park, the general supervisor,” Y/N looks at Yoongi, “This is where most of our fake dating comes into play.  Ms. Teddy is one hell of a hopeless romanticist.  Mina told me she has been continuously bugging Jisoo to sneak an HR confidential file and spill her some juicy office romance. And since it’s Valentines’, we’re gonna give Teddy what she wants.   Although it doesn’t take much to convince Teddy, we still can’t be too sure. Though I can bet most of our acting efforts will go for our co-workers. We only need eight more. I’ve already got Mina to cover one for us.”

              Yoongi hums and Y/N continues, “Lastly, after getting all of that, we go to the DRM for the final interview. They will ask us questions to counter-check the documents. We just need to act lovey-dovey and answer their questions as if we’ve known each other so, so well. When we pull it off, our PRSs are changed. Then, we can enjoy our work-free, full-paid Valentine’s week into the sunset.”

               Yoongi hums, “How are you so sure with this plan? How do you know we won’t mess up things? This is still a crime. We’re faking a fucking benefit.”

              “Oh, don’t be such a prude. Everyone does it.”

              “Are you sure ‘everyone’?”

              “Fine,” Y/N grits out, “everyone who is smart enough to study an easy-to-get benefit to know its loopholes.”

              “And you’re sure you know all the loopholes in this Heart Holiday program?”

              “Of course! Mina and I studied this for a whole year.” Y/N fixes her seat and clasps her hands together, “From the easiest places to get officialized dates to the last job’s boss rule on written accounts to the interrogation hacks at the DRM—we’ve got them all ironed out. Moreover, the DRM is lenient in approving PRS changes on the very last date of the February applications. We’re going to easily pass through! You don’t have to worry ‘bout getting caught! Look at us, Mina and I have been slipping by seamlessly for four years. Plus, we have Nancy off our backs this time so the accounts approval, the hardest of ‘em all, would be miraculously much easier to pull.”

              Yoongi nods. And then, silence ensues. Yoongi just blankly looks at Y/N. She purses her mouth and waits with bated breath. Hopefully, she did succeed convincing him to fully commit to her plan, right? He wouldn’t be in deep thought like this if he hasn’t taken into serious consideration the seamlessness of her plan, right? He’s just probably taking his time how to agree to her without sounding so appreciative of her because he’s Min Yoongi and Y/N knows he’d rather cut his arm than give her the credit she deserves—

              “So…you’ve been faking this benefit for four years?” Yoongi snickers, “My, I should have recorded this conversation. I just had a clear, clean-cut confession from a scammer.”

              “S-scam? Scammer?!” Y/N abruptly stands and Yoongi tries to pull her to sit back but Y/N only slaps his hand away, “You just fucking gone silent for a while to-to-to say that?! Are you an overgrown, ridiculous James Dean wanna-be rebel without a cause other than stupidity—who only picks on some words to make sense of everything?! You’re just like a boomer she-gossiper who only hears their friend’s child’s name and ‘engineer,’ in one sentence and she already expects that child to have a house and car when they’re only one year into the job while that hag’s been gossiping for over 36 years now and yet she still doesn’t have her own talk show!”

              Yoongi holds his hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, chill, tiger. You don’t have to get so worked up—”

              “Who will not get worked up after getting accused of scamming?! When I didn’t even commit it! Yet!”

              “And right now you’re saying you’re willing to scam just to get that Valentine’s week off. How can I not accuse you when you just told me all that. In broad daylight. With many people passing by our table every second of the minute?”

              “I didn’t say I’m willing to scam,” Y/N says, irritably, “I’m just laying out the possibility that I might do it.”

              “Still doesn’t change the fact you’re a scammer.”

              “Yet,” Y/N corrects. “I can’t be someone I’ve never become yet.”

              “But you’re gonna go for it eventually, so you’re going to become a scammer, nonetheless,” Yoongi presses. “Why not grab the title already? It’ll cut you some slack from all the labeling-progress.”

              “You know what, you make so many hasty generalizations about everything as if you’ve got everything figured on your palm just by looking at something for one second,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes at the man.

              “Just like you,” Yoongi tosses back, “You already generalized me as a coward man who can’t express himself like a prepubescent boy just because you saw me staring at something for like what, five minutes? You’re a real hypocrite, Y/N.”

              “I’m not a hypocrite because what I said is true! You like Seoyeon and you’re too much of a pussy to ask her out. If you’re not, then why are you here sitting down with me, of all people, to plan about faking having a significant other just in time for Valentine’s week?”

              Yoongi shuts his mouth and Y/N smiles, pleased with herself. Asking Mina for the Jeon Seoyeon card is definitely an ace move.

              “See? I’m right,” Y/N theatrically presses a hand on her temple, “Can we just cut to the bullshit and go on with the plan without having another unnecessary stupid argument breaking the flow? I can’t be always right all the time we argue or else my ego is gonna grow really big like that James Dean wanna-be manager of the Creatives Team.”

              Yoongi raises a middle finger. Y/N only laughs.

              “So, first things first,” Y/N flips her notebook onto the next page and writes on the paper, “So we can successfully fake our relationship, let’s get to know each other—”

              “But I already know you.”

              “No, you don’t,” Y/N snaps.

              “Yes, I do—wait,” Yoongi stops, “are you writing everything down on paper?”

              “Yes,” Y/N glares at him, “I’ve written ‘asshole,’ and ‘whiny prepubescent boy’ on your top descriptors.”

              “Then that confirms I do already know you.”

              “What do you mean?” Y/N asks, a mean scowl forming on her face.

              “It means that I know you,” Yoongi leans back on his seat and places his hands behind his neck. “You’re that kind of person who seriously writes every bit of her life as if not having something written down will cost her her life. Especially when it comes to plans. A plan is called a ‘plan’ for a reason, you know? Same as how humans can’t see their futures for a reason. But you still go and write every single thing you’re doing or about to do down to the littlest detail and when none of them works out in the sequence that you like, you start acting like it’s somebody else’s fault the world’s gonna end. See?” Yoongi suddenly leans forward and ghosts his hand over Y/N’s cheek. Y/N holds her breath, freezing up.

              Yoongi murmurs, “You’ve already got wrinkles on your face. And you’re just 25. I feel so sorry that your whole world revolves around being a P.A., that you start to P.A.-schedule your own life.”

              Y/N glowers and slaps Yoongi’s hand away. The man only laughs.

              “I write everything down because unlike you, I know how to commit to something and not fuck everything up—especially when it involves other’s lives. Of course, you wouldn’t understand this because you haven’t tried to actually put in the effort to make someone’s life easier—”

              “Hey, I’m putting in effort,” Yoongi interjects. “I’m committing to your plan right now.”

              “W-what?”

“I’m telling you, I’m fully in on your plan,” Yoongi closes his eyes and sighs, “Full blow. Beginning to end. Start to finish.”

              “You-you do? Are you really really sure—”

              “Look, if you’re suspicious, it’s fine. I could just totally leave now as I have more people to see this afternoon. It’s a weekend you know—”

              “Okay, fine! I’m happy you said that. Ecstatic. Peachy fucking keen. Totally. Thank you to the great, admirable Min Yoongi who just fucking saved the entire world,” Y/N rolls her eyes as she crosses her arm.

              “I like hearing that. Can you say that again?”

              “Only if you stop being a drama queen, cutting me off to say the most nonsensical stuff for one second and just listen to me so we can finally get the ball rolling.”

              “’Kay,” Yoongi makes an ‘okay’ sign with his hand and zips his lips. He grabs his iced Americano and takes a sip.

              Y/N internally releases a sigh of relief. She reaches for her notebook again. “As I was saying. We have to get to know each other so we know where to build on our fake relationship that would be believable to everyone. And the first way to get to know someone is through asking questions. So for my first question,” Y/N looks at Yoongi, “Other than your utter assholery to me, do you have a dark side?”

              “D-d-dark side?!” Yoongi sputters on his drink. Y/N distastefully eyes the trails of his drink that had made it down his chin but she makes no move to give him the stack of tissues that’s an inch from her elbow. Yoongi squints his eyes at her as he stands and grabs the tissues himself and places it on his side of the table. If he’s the slightest bit offended with Y/N wrinkling her nose at him, he makes it sure she knows it by rolling his eyes as he sits back down. Yoongi wipes the residues on his chin, “Out of all the questions to ask, why that?”

              “Because you get to know someone the best by knowing the versions of their selves that doesn’t make it out in the light of the day.”

              “That’s the reason why they’re called ‘dark sides’, you know. They’re not meant to be brought up in the public We’re in the public, Y/N—”

              “What’s your dark side, Min Yoongi?”

              “Fine,” Yoongi relents, “I have a dark humor. A humor so dark that whenever serious shits happen to me, I always laugh them off. So when I die right in the next second, say in a car accident, I got to laugh one last time right before my life ends. It’s my way saying ‘fuck you’ to life.”

              “Wow. I didn’t expect to hear something so dark like that,” Y/N mutters, “I was expecting you enjoying cracking everybody else’s mugs just like how you did to mine—Mina’s gift to me. In High School—last week.”

              “God, you do not really get over stuff do you?”

              “No, especially if it’s something so precious to me and someone just unceremoniously took it all away from me.”

              “Your mug’s still functional.”

              “It already has a crack on its lip!” Y/N shouts angrily. People turn to look at their table and their stinging stares wills Y/N to mumble “sorry.” She whips her head to Yoongi, “I’m still not over my mug, just so you know.”

              “I don’t know why it’s suddenly about your mug. You asked for my dark side. I gave you one.” Yoongi shrugs. He places down his drink and leans forward in his seat, “Now, Y/N, what’s your dark side?”

              “M-me?”

              “Yes, who else am I talking to?” Yoongi sarcastically snaps.

              “Well, I, uh...uh, dip my steak in mayo,” Y/N holds her chin up.

              “You dip your steak into what?” Yoongi chortles, “That’s your dark side?”

              “Yes, not everything has to do with morbid things and death, you know? Things don’t have to be dark to be deep,” Y/N informs.

              “Yeah, and unconventionally dipping your steak into mayo is deep.”

              “People find it abominable that I dip almost everything into any kind of mayo. That’s why it’s a dark side. And it makes me deep because dipping my food into mayo makes me happy and I’m not agoing to change that to fit into anyone’s expectations. All I’m saying is that I’m a happy person because I know what I want—”

              “Hi ma’am, sir,” a waiter hesitantly holds up a hand and gives a tight smile, as if to apologize for cutting in the conversation, “I see you’ve already cleared your plates. Would you want some dessert?”

              Y/N turns to her side and sees perspiration dotting the hairline of the waiter. He must have been standing way too long by their table that he had to cut the conversation so he can finally go back to the service crew area. Y/N gives an apologetic smile as she nods and helps the waiter clear their table.

              “Would you want some dessert, ma’am?” the waiter asks.

               “Yes! I would have some uh…” Y/N holds her chin as her eyes scan over to the miniature menu-stand. She remembers she’s craving something sweet today, probably to flush out all the bitterness on her tongue that Yoongi had easily unwelcomingly induced. However, she doesn’t know what it is. “Uhm, how about the peach mango parfait? No, that sounds too sweet. The choco chip oatmeal cookie, then? Sorry, not that, I just realized I don’t want to eat something too grainy today. The blueberry cheesecake? Wait, I changed my mind. It’s too expensive. I think I’ll have the apple pie instead—oh wait, no, I know—”

               “Can you just give us two slices of blueberry cheesecake? Thank you.” Yoongi hands a card toward the waiter. The waiter bows and goes to the counter. Within just a minute he returns and places two slices of blueberry cheesecake on their table. He hands back Yoongi’s card and leaves.

               Yoongi drives a fork down the soft pastry as he looks at Y/N, “Wow, you do know what you want.”

               Y/N scowls as she cuts her cake, “Today’s an outlier. I’m just pressured to suddenly make a decision, you know.”

               “Fine, fine, whatever you say,” Yoongi waves off.

               Y/N sets down her fork, “At least I’m a happy person. Unlike you.”

               “I’m a happy person, too,” Yoongi glares at her, “You, what, just generalized because I like dark humor and joking about death, I’m already an unhappy person? Who’s the one making hasty generalizations now?”

               “Who else but an unhappy person would want joke about death?”

               “Look, just because I talked about death doesn’t mean I’m a sad person.  I’m just saying, that in case life goes the wrong way, I’m going to at least enjoy it. Meanwhile, you’ll be left feeling unhappy because you’re too busy being,”  Yoongi quotes in the air, “‘happy’ with your plans to figure out the uncertainties of life.”

               “What’s with the quotation marks?” Y/N glowers, “You do not know me that much to know what I’m feeling. You don’t also get to say what I am feeling. Only I can do. And right now, I’m telling you  I am happy. You know what, maybe you should quit your job in the Creatives and transfer to a Judge’s office. You’ll know what it’s like to finally have a job that matches your expertise—judging people. It’s not like you’re even great in your current job.”

               “You say that with so much contempt. I thought you said you’re happy. From what I know, happy people don’t do that,” Yoongi smiles.

               Y/N glares at Yoongi. She closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath. “Can we move on to the next question?”

               “Okay, fine, my turn. What’s your take on enemies becoming lovers at the end of every rom-com film?”

               “W-what?” Y/N’s eyes shot up, “Are you for real now?”

               “What?”

               “How dare you hit on me?” Y/N scoffs, “You think this is a fucking rom-com film and we’re the enemies who’ll become lovers?! Great. Your head cannot even be much fucking bigger than it already is now.”

               “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Yoongi wheezes, “What the hell are you saying? I’m just asking you what’s your take on enemies becoming lovers because I heard you last time talking with Mina that you love romcoms. You-you just assumed that I am, what, hitting on you? Just because we hate each other and I brought up the enemies-to-lovers trope? Those two things are not even related! Goddamn, maybe it’s you who should check your ego.”

               Y/N grits out, “How can I not assume? You just suddenly brought up a fucking romantic topic and right now, we’re in a romantic context. We’re ‘dating.’ In this café. Or how it’s supposed to be like. How then can I not relate those two together? And to answer the question, I think that enemies to lovers trope is complete bull-crap.”

               “How did you say so?”

               “You can’t just suddenly grow romantic interest in someone who hates your guts! Sure people say ‘love’ has four letters but so do ‘hate,’ that’s why the popular crap tag ‘you tend to love the person you hate’ is born. But ‘L’ is not ‘H’ and ‘O’ is not ‘A’ and the same goes for ‘V’ and ‘T.’ They’re both words that stand at the opposite spectrum.”

               “But they both end in ‘E.’”

               “So?” Y/N tilts her head, “they still don’t mean the same. ‘Live’ and ‘die’ both end in ‘E’ but they mean the opposite of each other. Just like ‘love’ and ‘hate.’

               “I’m just saying that ‘love’ and ‘hate’ must have, at least, some form of connection through the letter ‘E.’ Not a connection based on their literal orthographic appearance. Just like ‘live’ and ‘die’ share some similarities. They both had to do with life and people experiencing taking a breath—their first one and their last one.”

               “So, what then is this connection ‘love’ and ‘hate’ have with each other?”

               “They both had something to do with a person constantly drawn to a characteristic of another person. I find it both endearing and aggravating.”

               “Are you hearing yourself right now?” Y/N snorts, “‘Drawn to a characteristic’? Constantly? How can you be constantly drawn to something that you hate? That doesn’t make sense. When you hate something, you want to cut off any association you have with that thing or else you’ll be upset 24/7. That’s what healthy people do.”

               “But the fact that you recognize that something you want to cut away means there is some unique element that sticks out enough—if not everyday—whenever you see it. It sticks out because what you usually hate reflects something you also hate in yourself. Let’s say you love the loyalty of your friends to you. You’re drawn to that loyalty because it reflects your own value for loyalty, which, then, makes you love these people. And to be clear, when I say ‘love’ it doesn’t only mean romantically. It can also be the one found in friendships and family or even in things you do.”

               “You don’t have to clarify what ‘love’ is to me. I know what it is,” Y/N spits. “What do you take me for? Someone who skipped the Personal Development class of 10th grade? I fucking aced that class. First off, how can you be drawn to a characteristic you hate when all you ever want is for it to disappear? You can’t be drawn to something you wish to be gone! And, hate cannot exist in any form of love. Sure, you can get upset, frustrated, or angry at your mother, friend, or significant other. But you can’t hate them if you really love them.  When you hate something, you stay away from it. You avoid it. You hurt it. You want to see it suffer. And you don’t do any of these things to something you love. ‘Love’ not ‘loved.’ Because if you’re already in the past tense of that L-verb, then you can hate them all you want.”

               “You’re not getting my point,” Yoongi groans, “I’m saying there’s a connection.”

               “Well, I don’t get it.” Y/N crosses her arms.

               “Fine, let me make you an example. What do you hate?”

               “You.”

               “Wow, what a great start we have,” Yoongi chuckles. “Okay, so you hate me. What’s my characteristic that you hate most?”

               “Your humongous ego you can’t even fit in your head. You thinking you can get away with anything. You simplifying everything as if they’re so easy when it’s not. You thinking you’re always right. You being so highly regarded in the office when clearly, you don’t deserve it because your climb in the hierarchy was just out of pure luck. In short, you’re overrated. You—”

               “Okay, we have enough material to work on, thank you very much. So, from what I could see, you hate me because I have a better life than you.”

               “What the—you really do have a big fucking ego! So big that it also blinds your eyes from seeing the reality. You’re delusional, Yoongi!”

               “Okay, that’s a fallacy. A two actually. Ad hominem and hasty generalizations. Which had me thinking you’ve always been pulling these two in every bit of your argument, whenever you can—”

               “Just like you!”

               “Well, I’m not like you! I’m not someone whose life revolves around her boss so much that I’d let her treat me like a dog and have me running from the world’s end to end just to satisfy her fucking brat of a daughter. And yet at the end of the day, that dog still can’t understand maybe it’s her master and her not standing up for herself that’s the fucking problem. She barks up on the wrong tree and blames everyone else for her misery instead of fucking working on herself!”

               “So, I’m supposed to be that dog?”

               “Yes!”

               “So, I’m a dog now. I’m a fucking dog. I’m that fucking dog you just—you know what, you’ve already ridiculed me and my work again and again in the office. You didn’t have to do it here, where every single stranger just heard what I apparently am in my work,” Y/N stands up and gathers her notebooks and sling bag. “If you’re just going to ridicule everything about me and what I say during the duration of these ‘dates,’ then I will just have to find someone else who’s going to take me seriously. Goodbye, Yoongi,” Y/N gives one last flippant look at the man and then she walks off.

DAY 2 – January 27; Monday

              Mina drops her hands to her side. For the first time, she cannot bring herself to stand up and switch on her metal portable radio. It’s break right now. Kim Seokjin’s voice should already be filling the room of the Accounting Department. But all Mina hears is a pin-drop of silence followed by a heavy sigh.

              That is until a loud scream breaks from her throat.

              “Yoongi called you a what?!”

              Y/N stands up and immediately presses a hand over her friend’s mouth, “Shh! You don’t have to be so loud. I don’t want everyone to hear us—”

              Mina slaps away her friend’s hand, “How can you tell me to be silent?! Right now, when Yoongi just called you a dog!”

              “Geez, you don’t have to repeat it—”

              “And the worst thing is, you just walked out on him!”

              “What?”

              Mina huffs, “Y/N, you cannot just let a man call you a dog and get away with it. You should have screamed back that he’s a shrew’s dick! Not only is he a literal dick, he also has the smallest dick!”

              “Wait, why is this now about Yoongi’s dick?”

              “Y/N,” Mina claps her hands on her friend’s shoulders, “this is about Yoongi’s dick. He thinks he’s so big but he’s just a pesky, miniature pest. His dick represents his ego. So if you said he has a dick of a shrew, you’re metaphorically blowing off his ego. And to the public, his dick.”

              Y/N wriggles herself from Mina’s hold and puffs, “Mina, will you stop going on and on about Yoongi’s dick? I don’t wanna hear about it and for God’s sake, you’ve already got Mark’s—”

              “How can I not?! He just called you a dog! Not even a bitch!” Y/N winces but Mina continues, “Like, okay, literally he’s pertaining to a bitch because you’re a girl and he called you a dog. And that would have been more okay because calling a girl a ‘bitch’ can be a petty insult everyone knows means about how annoying a girl can be. But, a dog?! Y/N, he’s reducing you to an animal! A dog, Y/N, a dog! An animal!”

              “Will you stop saying Y/N and dog in one sentence?!” Y/N snaps, “I’m the one who should be furious! I’m the one who got called a dog!”

              Mina shuts up. She immediately pulls her hands back to her sides, “Sorry. It’s hard not to violently react when my bestfriend is getting humiliated like that. Publicly even.”

              Y/N sighs, “Yeah, I know. It’s just…repeating it again and again makes me want to tear up.”

              Mina holds Y/N’s hand, “I’m sorry.”

              “I’m sorry, too,” Y/N says, “I didn’t mean to blow up. It’s just—Min Yoongi has insulted me in more ways than one but not like this. God, I’ve never been this humiliated before in my life.”

              Mina sighs and closes her eyes, “I knew this would happen. I told you to not push through with this plan but you didn’t listen. God, I wish I didn’t bring up that Yoongi is single. Of course, I should have known the moment I said that option, your mind wouldn’t stop mulling over it. If I hadn’t brought that up, then maybe you wouldn’t have even gone into that goddamn cafe.”

              “Hey, Mina,” Y/N tilts her friend’s chin to face her, “this is not your fault. This is Yoongi’s fault. And yeah, I should have listened to you. But we’re here now. We can’t undo what’s already happened. At least, this is a learning experience for me not to go with my gut when I already knew from the get-go it will turn out badly.”

              Mina nods, “You’re right...But what about the Heart Holiday? Who will you go with now?”

              Y/N releases a frustrated sigh, “I honestly don’t know. I’ll probably have to resort to desperate measures again. If things come to worst, I will stand in front of shops and hold out flyers just like the convenience sampling I did in college.  I’ll settle for the first decent person I can find. Just anyone at this point, I’m fine. As long as it’s not Min Yoongi.”

              “Yeah, as long as it’s not Min Yoongi.”

                Except that is easier said than done.

              “Uhh, what are you doing?”

               Y/N looks up from her crouched position under the table of her desk, frozen in surprise. Except for her index which manages to sneak three more swipe right’s.

               Yoongi stands on his tip-toes, peering over the cubicle to get a better glimpse of the crouched woman. When he sees a profile picture of a foreign man on the phone, his eyes shoot up and meet Y/N’s.

               “Is that Tinder?”

               After insulting and humiliating her publicly, this is the first thing Yoongi says? He doesn’t have the nerve to even apologize? Y/N rolls her eyes as she slowly crawls back onto her seat, “Well, thank you for confirming your eyes work, dumbass.”

               “Nevermind,” Yoongi waves off,  “Come into the Creatives’ Office. Right now,” He turns his back to her and heads the opposite hallway. He glances back at her one more time. “Right now,” he repeats with a glare, before disappearing through the glass door.

               Y/N grumbles, picking up her notebook and pen. She just had her beloved station all to herself for five minutes only and now she’s going back to her own circle of hell, her temporary cubicle in the Creatives’ office. Unlike her previous encounters with Yoongi, Y/N didn’t expect that a temporary cubicle will not spike up her blood pressure to skyscraper-heights. Instead, that cubicle roasts her ass slowly as if she’s some rotisserie chicken.

              Y/N’s cubicle is set against the periwinkle-painted wall, directly in front of Yoongi’s desk. All would be normal like it usually is if the Creatives’ cubicles are actually cubicles. Their cubicles have their front boards built so low that they could be mistaken for standard office tables. Mina said they were like that since the Creatives’ monitors are so large that they would be impractical for standard-sized cubicles. And a gossip among the Accounting three years ago said Nancy has to cut some funds for the Creatives’ interior designing since their high-quality model of computers and cutting-edge apps are enough to compensate for it. Still, it’s not enough for Y/N to forgive this horrible choice of furniture when she has to sit in it and endure every millisecond of her work time seeing Yoongi’s stupid face.

              Y/N feels a prick on her ass when she sees Yoongi’s half-lidded eyes as he clicks through his templates, looking like work never stresses him out. There’s gas-stove-like heat on her eyelids as she sees Yoongi teach his subordinates their drafted designs with a proud smirk on his face as if he’s the only one capable of coming up with those designs that are already magazine-standardized. Y/N feels her eyes have been doused with searing oil whenever Yoongi meets her eyes and gets the audacity to give her a challenging stare. And when Yoongi fucking decides to wink at her, Y/N could feel her eyes completely and so painfully burst on-fire. All these four occurrences happen on a day-to-day basis, especially on days when Y/N came from her station, frazzled and haggard because of Nancy’s orders. Because of this threat-posing danger to her sanity, Y/N’s only reprieve is her old station. But it’s still not enough. Not when she only gets five minutes to sit on it before she gets thrust back into her circle of hell. Like, right now.

              Yoongi is staring at her. His lips are tightly sealed, his hand firm as it cups his jaw. His brows are scrunched and Y/N could have mistaken he’s angry had she not known Yoongi long enough to know it’s just his face being a daily bitch like he is. Y/N tilts her head but she gets nothing. Yoongi’s eyes remain unmoving on her figure. She blows out a sigh. What is up with him now? Why can’t he wipe that stupid look on his face? Y/N sets her elbow on her desk and cups her jaw too, mirroring the man. She glares at him. Still nothing. She raises a middle finger. Yoongi breaks from his stance and chuckles, shaking his head.

              What the fuck—

              Yoongi stands up from his cubicle. “Myungsoo, Dana, Yoona, and” he looks straight at her, “Y/N. Come to the meeting room ASAP. I have something to discuss.”

              Y/N makes a face as she drags her limbs away from her desk.

              “So, I gathered everyone here because of a new concept Steven and I thought over,” Yoongi opens a red portfolio. He slides it to the center of the table for everyone to see.

              It was a set of templates, all in the scheme of reds and pinks. Just like how Nancy pointed out in the Creative’s To-do improvements in the meeting two weeks ago. There are two to three columns designed in one page. The indentions and the justified alignment follow the traditional layout. What steers away from the formula is the awkward staggering cuts on the ending sentences, seemingly like downward staircases facing opposite each other. It creates circular bubble-like spaces lying in between the columns. And in these spaces stand human icons, one person per bubble, busily typing on their laptops or looking at their cellphones.

              “Steven and I decided it will be a good time to use this layout since this month is the time for DRM’s star program, The Heart Holiday, which addresses the country’s concerns about the decreasing birth-rate. Looks like there are no more babies because people don’t want to get into relationships these days,” Yoongi says, pointing to the solo human icons on the template. Y/N glances to her right and sees Myungsoo and Dana stifling a chuckle. Yoongi’s joke is not even funny, why are they laughing?

              “Anyway, Steven and I guessed it’s only appropriate to use the concept: no one wants to be intimate anymore, so everyone distances themselves from each other.” Yoongi flips the next page of the portfolio.

              The next article layouts have only two columns. It still has the staggered-staircases-forming-bubbles in the format. However, the reduction of the columns has brought these bubbles nearer to each other. Unlike the one-person-per-bubble format, there are now two to three people in the bubbles interacting with each other.

              “But even if it seems no one wants to be with anyone anymore,” Yoongi continues, “There is still hope for people to connect with each other. That’s why Steven and I thought it will be a good opportunity to combine this message in our magazine with the Heart Holiday-inspired theme. The memes about DRM’s PRS are also trending right now in every social media so this could make our magazine more relatable for people. Ms. Nancy has sent us the approved feature articles for inspiration. We can tell this February issue is themed around having fun whether you’re going to DRM-approved date sites with your significant other, or you’re going solo around these sites, treating yourself and all that. Hence, we thought this kind of layout will be the best one to visually execute this message,” Yoongi finishes. He looks at the people in the meeting room, “What do you think?”

              Myungsoo nods, “Yeah, I think that’s a great concept. Very timely.”

              “And the design, too,” Yoona adds, “This may catch our readers’ attention from the get-go because these bubbles are not the usual stuff we see in issues—print or online.”

              “Thanks for your inputs—Y/N, are you writing this down?”

              Y/N could suddenly feel everyone’s eyes on her. Yoongi really does love putting her on unneeded spotlights, no? She raises her head from her notebook and grumbles, “Of course.”

              “Good, then,” Yoongi turns back to his staff, “We haven’t sent these templates to Ms. Nancy yet. I’m just informing you beforehand should you have better suggestions. You know how Ms. Nancy hates installment submissions of our designs. As of now, we only have conceptualized templates for the feature articles. We still need to cover the templates for the profiles and the top ten pages. And most importantly, the cover page. I want you three to do some research and provide me interesting concepts for our subject and shoots. We have to submit a cohesive collection before Ms. Nancy’s return. So, would it be okay for you if you can send it to me by the end of the week?”

              All three give Yoongi an affirmative nod.

              “Okay, then,” Yoongi leans in his seat, “I would like you to formally meet Ms. Y/N L/N.”

              “But we already got introduced to her. A week ago, in fact,” Myungsoo warily glances at his right. Y/N tries not to shrink from the intimidating gaze he’s giving her. Wasn’t Myungsoo just afraid of her five days ago?

              “Yeah, I know,” Yoongi says, “but I think everyone has not fully understood her purpose here as I still see anxiousness in everyone’s faces whenever she goes around the office. Steven did not do much of a good job explaining it either since he’s been busy with the skeletal framework of our designs. And now, Nancy had just recently busied him with the interface of our site.  That’s why I’m here as second in command.” Yoongi stands up and nears Y/N. Y/N attempts to step back, away from his approaching figure. Yoongi prevents her from doing so by encircling an arm around her and firmly pats a hand on her right shoulder.

              The three Creatives staff sport bunched up brows.

              Unheeding from the confusion on their faces, Yoongi says, “Ms. Y/N L/N here, is Ms. Nancy’s eyes in the Creatives. Since Ms. Nancy is overseas and our last report in our meeting was not satisfactory for her, she sent in her P.A. to check on our progress and directly report to her. To counter-check our own reports to her and whatnot. Y/N’s not here to rat out anyone who’s sneaking a break or two when it’s not even break time,” Dana stiffens at that. Yoongi chuckles, “Don’t worry Dana, everyone already knows and Y/N hasn’t written a thing about you, right Y/N?” He looks at the woman under his arm and smiles.

              Y/N’s got her forehead scrunched together but she nods nevertheless, “Y-yes, I don’t report stuff ‘bout like that. Just the progress and drafts for the templates and designs and o-other suggestions. Yeah.” She unconsciously releases a shaky breath as she glances up at Yoongi who’s still smiling weirdly at her. Why does she feel like she’s being held hostage by the insufferable man?

               “Right,” Yoongi says, looking back at the three. “So, I would really appreciate it if you guys could walk-through Ms. Y/N around your research and concept-making, especially about the matters that concern the cover page.” Myungsoo opens his mouth to retort but Yoongi beats him, “Uh-uh, no objections. This is an order from your superior. A superior who cares about you all to protect you from getting blasted off this company by our dear Ms. Nancy,” Yoongi smiles.

               This must have quelled the three’s resistance, seeing their downcast faces. Yoongi grins, “I’m glad to know that you all agree with me, then. As it also would have been weird if otherwise. Especially when our sweet, adorable, cute Y/Nie has come here to help us.” Yoongi cups Y/N’s face and smiles, “Right, Y/Nie?”

               The confusion is back on the staff’s faces. This time, tenfold.

               “O….kay, I think I already get the memo,” Dana reaches for the door handle.

               “Y-yeah, me too,” Myungsoo seconds.

               “Thank you for the…briefing, Mr. Min. Have a good day,” Yoona bids as she pulls open the door and leaves. Soon enough, it’s just Y/N and Yoongi left inside the Creatives’ meeting room.

               Y/N tears herself immediately from Yoongi’s hold. She looks at him, furious, “What the fuck was that, Min?!”

               Yoongi places his hands in his pockets, “Me pretending I’m interested in you. My share of the deal. You know? Your plan.”

               “You think the deal is still up?! It’s long broken after your shit in the café yesterday!”

               “I’m not the only one who’s at fault,” Yoongi counters, “You called me overrated and an egotistic bastard.”

               “Well, you called me a dog!” Y/N throws her hands in the air. “A dog, Yoongi, a dog! What’s more humiliating than that?!”

               “I admit that’s a wrong move on my part. It’s uncalled for and I’m sorry,” Yoongi sighs. Y/N immediately feels her limbs loosen up. Did…Did Min Yoongi just apologize to her? The prideful, uncaring, asshole Min Yoongi just said ‘sorry’?—

              “But that still doesn’t justify why you’re on Tinder earlier,” Yoongi crosses his arms, “You’re still in the office and break well past over. It’s not even night time!”

              “What the—Why, am I allowed to use Tinder only at night?” Y/N gives him an incredulous look.

               “That’s not what I meant,” Yoongi says dryly, “I’m talking about you having to go to Tinder, seducing a partner with your sexual fantasies and what-not. In case you’re too shallow to know, you usually do those kinds of things at night.”

              Y/N glares at him, “So, you’re saying I have to go to Tinder to unleash my inner hoe and seduce potential partners? And it must be at night? Excuse you Min, I am highly capable of seducing anyone even off-screen!”

               “Uhh, no?” Yoongi says, tilting his head.

               Y/N’s forehead furrows, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

               “No. As in it’s impossible for you to seduce anyone, Y/N.”

               Y/N sticks her nose up, “How did you say so?”

               “Because you’re a stuck-up girl with a stick in her ass,” Yoongi informs, “No one finds that sexy.”

               “And what do people find sexy?” Y/N scoffs, “Conceited, demeaning bastards like you?”

               Yoongi drags a hand over his face, “This is going nowhere again. I don’t have time for this.”

               “And whose fault is it?” Y/N points at him, “You. You started it!”

               “No, you did,” Yoongi pins her with a glare “Who the hell swipes right on every random stranger on Tinder without care?! Much more in a professional setting?”

               “From what I know, you didn’t care about any professionalism at work, Min,” Y/N spits, taking a step towards the man, “You slept during working hours, Yoongi. Don’t you forget how you served me cold to Nancy when you missed Rosa’s call about her son’s first son’s birthday party!” Y/N seethes, “And why do you even care about whoever I swipe on Tinder?! It’s none of your business!”

               “Of course it is my business! I’m the one who you’re supposed to be dating. Not some other Tinder dude!”

               Silence. Not one muscle moves. Not even a breath comes out from between their lips. The air in the room goes colder. There seem to be imaginary frozen needles that have surrounded Y/N’s body after Yoongi’s outburst as she could feel the frigid cold starting to nip on her neck. Yoongi doesn’t seem any better as he stands still in front of her, eyes wide, mouth agape after his outburst. The excruciating tension stretches on as another second passes in this pin-drop silence.

               “W-what?” Y/N chokes out, the sound scratching from her throat, “Y-you think you’re supposed to be dating me? After everything that happened in the cafe, you think my offer is still up? You think, what, after you just called me a dog, I’d let you back in on my plan? And have you benefit from it?” Y/N scoffs.

               “Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I already apologized!”

               Y/N snorts, “You think it’s that easy to let go for you to demand forgiveness for what you did? I didn’t know you’re also that entitled, Min! And for the record, I don’t need to date you. I can easily find anyone to be my boyfriend for the Valentines!”

                “Then tell me why you’re still swiping right on Tinder until now,” Yoongi counters. “Didn’t you think I would catch you in the meeting still furiously swiping right behind your notebook?” Y/N’s jaw goes slack as she looks away from him. Yoongi smirks. “From all those accounts you swiped right, there probably would have been one that matched with you, right? If you can so ‘easily find anyone to be your boyfriend’?” He takes one step forward to the woman. Y/N gulps, taking one step backward. “Tell me there’s someone else other than me who’s willing to do all these acting shits just to get you that paid vacation leave,” Yoongi takes another step forward, cornering Y/N in the blinds-covered glass wall, “If you can name someone else, I’d gladly let you swipe everyone and anyone to your heart’s content.”

               “Fine,” Y/N admits, “No one has matched with me. Yet,” she adds, daggers in her eyes. She wouldn’t succumb to him just because he’s in a more domineering position than her, hovering above her. “Of course, you’re the only one who’s willing to act out this dating shit with me because you’re gonna benefit from it, too. You out of all people going to deny that one week of paid vacation leave? That would be a miracle.”

               “Touche,” Yoongi chuckles.

               “That’s why, it’s also time for you to step back or else I’m filing a sexual harassment case against you.”

               “Okay, okay, geesh,” Yoongi holds up his hands as he backs away, chuckling. Y/N gives him an unamused look as she dusts off her blazer. God, how many days did the Creatives left their windows to gather dust? And Yoongi had to corner her there of all places—

               Y/N crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, “So, after all your…theatrics, what are you really implying, Min?”

               “I’m implying, let’s give it a go again,” Yoongi replies. Y/N cringes at him. Yoongi immediately defends himself, “Yeah, I know, it sounds like hell. You’re not the only one who’s going to suffer.”

              “As if. You suffering just like I do? I’m the one who’s gonna suffer more! Just by looking at you, I could feel my eyes burning as if I poured a gallon of muriatic acid on them.”

              Yoongi sighs, “I’m being serious here.”

              “So do I,” Y/N tilts her chin up.

              Yoongi gives her a stop-bullshitting-me look.

              Y/N sighs, “Fine, I will.”

              “So, as I was saying,” Yoongi continues, “Our act only has to go for two weeks. 13 days, exactly, since we’ve already wasted yesterday. All we have to do is compromise and not try to fray each other’s nerves too much. Just for two weeks. Then at least we can make this farce as less stressful as it can be for the sake of our mental health.”

               “Okay. How would we start then?”

               “Let’s go have a date later. After work.”

              “So this is your idea of a date?”

              “Stop complaining. I’m already the one paying.”

              Y/N grumbles an unintelligible disagreement over a stick-full of crispy fried chicken intestines. Yoongi glares at her as he takes another stick from the hot pot. He stuffs his cheek with more chicken intestines. He chomps on his food, obviously savoring the taste of the greasy street food. It would have been pleasing to the eyes if the sounds he is making are not akin to a horse wallowing chunks of grass.  It also doesn’t help that his sounds are only heightened by the loud, mindless chatter of passerby’s. Families arguing what food stall to go to next. Friends betting which game they can win. Children and babies crying for the jackpot humongous teddy bears of the obviously rigged stalls. And couples giving each other mushy looks while guzzling on street foods sold by stalls like the one they’re in. It’s a cacophony of all banal sounds from day-to-day life, amplified to the notch.

              Y/N glances up. The sky is dark but not much can be seen from the thick, dirty smog of the city. What only breaks the neverending stretch of pollution are the overhead lights. They are small oriental lamps tied up on wire cables, hanging across the streetlamp posts. Their pink, orange, and yellow hues substitute for the washed down constellations above the night sky. At least this is pretty.

              “Why? What’s your idea of a date?”

              Y/N snaps back to the man beside her. She’s brought back to the almost-deafening chitter-chatter background. “W-well, it’s definitely not like this!” She waves her stick around her, “It’s not this noisy, thi-this messy. We’re not even supposed to be eating this!”

              Yoongi raises a brow, “But it looks like you like eating chicken intestines. You had six sticks.”

              Y/N’s eyes widen. She buries her face in her scarf, “I have no choice. I’m hungry.”

              “Well, are you still hungry now?”

              “No,” Y/N munches on the last piece of her chicken intestines. She dunks the empty stick in her cup sitting on the bar of the stall.

              “That’s more than good then—Hey, are you done?” Yoongi turns to her. Y/N nods. She gives Yoongi some bills but he slaps her hand away and pays the stall vendor for their meals. “See? I fed you,” Yoongi snorts, “Why are you even complaining?”

              “A date is not just about feeding someone! O-or paying for someone before asking them if it’s okay to have their meals paid for them.”

              “But I told you I’m going to pay! You know, because of yesterday? Because apparently, my apology earlier is not enough for your demanding ass.”

              Y/N angrily stuffs her purse back into her satchel, “It’s still doesn’t justify why this ‘date’ is like this! This is not supposed to be this way!”

              “Aside from your elitist, romantic-sap delusions,” Yoongi looks at her, “what is a date supposed to be?”

              “I’m not an elitist or a romantic-sap!” Y/N exclaims, “And they’re not delusions! Anyone with at least one functioning brain cell could tell a date is supposed to have some ounce of privacy. Some inch of calm in the mood. At least through the music or the aesthetic of the place—not like a marketplace of a street event like this! And the food! They’re supposed to be at least served in plates! Did you not get an example when I asked you to meet me yesterday in a café?”

              “But the thing is, I’m not just anyone, sweetheart.”

              “Will you just stop—” Y/N falters when she feels a tug on her coat.

              “Hey, they have those fried flour-coated quail eggs! You want some?”

              Y/N doesn’t utter a word. Her perked eyes are enough for her to quickly follow the man to the brown food stall.

              Yoongi smirks, “What were you saying again? Did the eggs taste less delicious now they’re in cups?”

              Y/N dips one more egg in the sweet orange sauce before giving him a pointed look, “Shut up. This is an exception. I’m weak for this food since high school.”

              “Aren’t you weak for the intestines, too?” Yoongi snickers, “You ate eight sticks.”

               Y/N jabs at his side. Yoongi’s laugh breaks as he soothes over the spot. Y/N  triumphantly smiles, “I told you to shut up.”

               Yoongi frowns at her as he takes another egg from his cup.

               Y/N sighs as she places down her cup on the bar. She turns to Yoongi,               “Spill it.”

              “What?”

              “Why are you being so nice tonight? What are you plotting?”

               “This-This?” Yoongi sputters, “I am already being nice by being like this?”

               “Well, you’re the worst on a daily basis. Tonight, you’re ten percent less of worse.”

               Yoongi tilts his head, “How did you say so?”

               “Well,” Y/N shoves her hands in her pockets, “when I say some shit about you, you fight back. Like earlier. I blow up on you. You blow up on me. Now, you’re going for passive-aggressive. I can’t tell if you’re about to sneak up on me like the bitch you are or are you just weirdly sucking up to me.” Yoongi snorts. The sound makes Y/N’s ears heat up in a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “Why are you laughing, Min? It’s not a joke.”

               “It is a joke,” Yoongi breathes out in-between laughs, “You think I’m sucking up to you? Not in a million years, bitch! And what am I to sneak up on you for? As of now, you’re in the Creatives and I am somehow your superior. I don’t have to sneak up on you for anything.”

               Y/N huffs, “Then, what are you doing right now?”

               “It’s called compromise,” Yoongi informs, a proud smile growing on his face, “Human decency in another context. Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? If we can try, we can make this deal as less stressful as it can be.”

               “Yeah, I know,” Y/N deadpans.

               “And right now, this loud background is my insurance for tonight should we end up screaming at each other. No one is gonna hear everything and doubt us being a couple. So we can finally get that damned DRM date document.”

               “Why ‘finally’?” Y/N breaks from her reverie, brows raised in confusion, “Didn’t we have a date yesterday?”

               “Yeah we did have one,” Yoongi leans his elbow on the bar and turns to her, “But with you walking out and making such a grand exit, there’s no one in hell the manager is gonna hand me a document that’s supposed to verify two people had a great time in a date site.”

               Y/N hides her face beneath her scarf. She mumbles, “It shouldn’t have happened if you didn’t call me a dog.”

               “Yeah, I know,” Yoongi pops an egg into his mouth, finishing his cup, “but you called me names, too.” Y/N opens her mouth to retort but stops when Yoongi presses an index over her lips, “But they are just your go-to petty insults. And the end, calling you a dog is still an uncalled for low-blow. So now, I’m making us even by paying for your meals.”

               “Okay,” Y/N places her finished cup on the bar, “How would we get a document for today, then? Temporary stalls like this are not DRM-approved.”

               Yoongi smiles, “We just have to find some date-site-looking shop, then.”

               Y/N nods and she falls into silence next to Yoongi. Crowds continue to buzz past them, some people even bumping into their shoulders without an apology. And yet, not a word is still exchanged. The muted space between them is awkward and almost tensioned. From the back of her mind, Y/N could tell Yoongi wants to tell her something. His constant quick glances give him away. However, her expectations are always destroyed when he brings his eyes back on the street, staring straight ahead, away from hers. Y/N decides having an annoying chatterbox Yoongi is better than this silent Yoongi. This silent one seems like he’s secretly plotting her murder. Y/N shakes her head. Compromise, Y/N, compromise.

               “Hey, would you want to go in there?”

               Y/N whips her head, “W-what?”

               Yoongi points to his left, “Do you want to go to that shop? They’re selling some cute stuff.”

               Y/N follows Yoongi’s index. The shop standing on their left looks like Hello Kitty has puked all over it with pink sparkly unidentified stuff for years. Its name, “Adorable Paradise” is in glowing neon pink. It’s flashed by a huge LED  board fastened to the roof of the shop. The shop’s pink walls contrast the monotone grey and dirty white of the shops crammed beside it. Even from the outside, Y/N could already tell the majority, if not all, of their products are also barfed over by Hello Kitty. Pink teddy bears, pink phone cases, pink pillows, pink mini dresses—the list goes on. It’s a novelties store. But right now in Y/N’s eyes, it’s one big puddle of Hello Kitty’s barf. A paradise for all cheesy, cheap, cute finds that won’t even last long for a month.”

               “T-there?” Y/N turns to  Yoongi, a scoff forming on her lips. “You’re asking me if I want to go there? Well, I do not! I’m already 25, Yoongi. I’m no longer 15!”

               Yoongi gives her an incredulous look, “Why? Are fifteen-year-olds only allowed to that place?” He raises his hand and points to a couple going out of the shop, “See? Does that adult couple look like fifteen-year-olds to you?”

               “But, look at its name! ‘Adorable Paradise.’ Who the hell will not think this shop is for cringey teenagers?!”

               “Well, the DRM thinks not because it’s officially listed in one of their approved date sites.”

               Y/N’s eyes grow into large snow globes. She turns up her nose at him as she crosses her arms, “As if I could believe you. Just yesterday, you don’t know anything about DRM or the PRS.”

               “But now I know,” Yoongi argues, “I researched it.”

               “You? Research?” Y/N snorts, “That combination sounds awfully unbelievable.”

               “Hey, I do research,” Yoongi narrows his eyes at her, “I have to do it especially on things I know my sanity will be at stake. Like, right now,” Yoongi suddenly pulls Y/N’s wrist and runs toward the glass door of the shop, almost dragging Y/N’s body behind.

               “I.Told.You. Let. Go. Of. Me!” Y/N slaps Yoongi’s hand per syllable. Yoongi finally lets go when they enter the shop. Y/N caresses the non-existent marks on her wrist. She glowers at him, “You don’t have to drag me like that if you’re that dying to go in here, you know? You could have just told me you’re a hopeless romantic overgrown teenage boy.”

               Yoongi seems to have gone deaf over her words. He aimlessly wanders through the aisles of the shop, whistling a soft tune to himself. Y/N is ready to stomp her way all over to him and drag him out like how he did with her if Yoongi didn’t holler from the CD stand, “Hey! This song reminds me of you!”

               Y/N walks toward him. She peers at the CD case he’s holding. “UGLY – 2NE1.”

               Y/N glares at him. Yoongi laughs. She pushes him away as she goes to the other end of the stand, scanning through the CD cases. “Hah! This one’s for you!”

               Yoongi looks at the case, “Here’s a Quarter (Call Someone Who Cares) – Travis Tritt.” Yoongi smirks at her, “So, it’s gonna be like this, huh?” He rushes to the opposite end of the CD stand. “This one’s for you!” Yoongi flashes her the CD case, “I hate everything about you – Three Days Grace”

               Y/N angrily bites on her lip. She dives into her side of the stand, “Then you’re this—“Die in a Fire – The Living Tombstone”

               “You’re Pitiful – Weird Al”

               “Suck a Cheetah’s Dick – Wesley Willis”

               “You Need to Calm Down – Taylor Swift”

               “That’s What You Get – Paramore”

               “You’re not Old School. You’re Just Old – Swallowing Shit”

               “LOSER – Big Bang”

              “Grow Up – Paramore”

              “Fuck You – Lilly Allen”

              “F.U.R.B. (Fuck You Right Back) – Frankee”

               With no more songs to insult each other, Yoongi and Y/N continues on to the greeting cards.

               Yoongi turns to Y/N and points at his left, “You’re like this Mother’s day card. Its fake PNG background resonates you being such a scam.”

               Y/N points at her right, “Well, you’re like this Birthday card that somehow looks like a prayer card. You think so highly of yourself when you’re just some low-quality being.”

               “Hah!” Yoongi snorts, “Then you’re like this plain ass Thank You Card. Its abuse of Comic Sans is like your abuse of overused insults. Upgrade your insulting game, mate.”

               “Overused, huh? Then you’re this ‘Cousin, you deserve the best,’ card. Awfully useless to anyone.”

               “Hey! Cousins deserve a Hallmark card!”

               “Who the hell writes to their cousin?! It’s no longer the 1800’s!”

               “Well, obviously not you. You don’t have a heart to even appreciate your cousin.”

               “I do appreciate my cousin!” Y/N looks away, frowning, “But not through cards.”

               “Then how do you appreciate them?”

               “A birthday message on Facebook?”

               “That’s not enough! What, you just speak to them once a year?”

               “Yeah! Because not everyone has good relationship ties with their family, dumb-o.”

               Yoongi stops, “What? You’re not okay with your family?”

               “Are you deaf? Did you not hear what I said?” Y/N looks at him with a cold stare, “And why are you suddenly concerned?”

               “Well, it’s family? And families are supposed to be the people who should know you best, and thus understand you the best..?,” Yoongi finishes, eyes unsure. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself with his answer rather than Y/N.

               “Well, not my family,” Y/N turns away and heads for the other aisle, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Next topic.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi nods, following behind.

               The Adorable Paradise is a self-contradiction. There is nothing heavenly in the shop but its all-shades-of-pink LSD-inducing color scheme. The shop is a hodgepodge of all things imaginable. One stand has CDs and records, from mainstream pop to underground heavy metal, un-arranged in the racks. The other stand has greeting cards for all sorts of events. It is Y/N’s first time to find a card congratulating a person for surviving a day without killing their boss. Shelves line up the spaces above the stands, housing indoor plants of different species and vinyl records from the 70s to contemporaries. The bookstands lined in the center of the shop contain items from school supplies to cosmetic products. Accessories from head to toe are displayed in mannequins placed in all of the corners of the shop. The only thing passable for “adorable” is the shop’s collection of plushies, all resembling none of well-known cartoons or franchises. Although calling it so would be a stretch because there are outlandish ones like the magenta sunflower with a pentagram on its disk florets Y/N saw in the leftmost shelf.  It was as if the shop owner didn’t know what business it wants to have so they just threw everything sellable they know inside. It is almost impossible to know how the shop managed to house all these various products in such a small space. Especially, when there are corners that have products like—

               “Yoongi, look, they have the leaf village’s forehead protector!”

               “The leaf village what?”

               Y/N turns around, tying the headband around her head, “The Naruto headband!”

               Yoongi shrugs.

               Y/N’s eyes blow wide, “What do you mean ‘so what’? This is Naruto.”

               “Well, I haven’t watched it, so I don’t know what to feel.”

               “You haven’t watched Naruto?!”

               “Too many episodes.”

               “This is Naruto!”

               “Yes! I know it’s Naruto!” Yoongi exasperates, “You don’t have to repeat it again!”

               “Fine,” Y/N crosses her arms. “Then what did you watch growing up?” Yoongi looks up, deep in thought. Y/N smirks, “If you have nothing, then I can really say you’re asshole-ry can now be explained by the fact that you apparently have no childhood.”

               “Hey! I had my childhood! I remember it now. It’s Slam Dunk!”

               “The basketball anime?”

               “Yep.”

               “Does it involve ten episodes worth of flashback before they finally make a move?”

               “No. That’s just the trend now after Kuroko no Basket.”

               “Wait,” Y/N points at him, “Do you watch every single sports anime?”

               “No…Just when it’s about basketball.”

               “Oh my god,” Y/N dramatically covers her mouth in faux shock, “you’re such a stereotypical representative of the male species.”

               Yoongi gives her a half-unamused, half-confused look, “What do you mean with that?”

               “Nothing. Just you guys typically liking basketball 24/7 and making life everything about it.”

               “I do not make life everything about basketball,” Yoongi deadpans, “Have you ever heard me do that?”

               “…No. Okay, sorry, I got sidetracked again because of my annoyance with you,” Y/N faces the bookstand where she got her headband, “Anyway, since you mentioned you like Slam Dunk, I may have seen a Shohoku 10 jersey here—”

               “OH MY GOD, WHERE???” Yoongi runs next to her.

               Y/N turns around, quirking her brows, “I thought you don’t make your life about basketball? Why are you reacting like that?”

               “Hey, if you watched Slam Dunk, you’d know,” Yoongi informs. He takes a conscious step back and awkwardly adjusts the folded cuffs of his navy button-down.

               “Well, I haven’t watched it, so I don’t know.”

               “You haven’t watched Slam Dunk? How do you even know about the Shohoku 10 jersey?!”

               “I know that 10 jersey is important because Mina’s boyfriend gushes about it, too,” Y/N bites her lip then admits, “And also because the one wearing the next number, 11, is a very attractive man.”

               “You mean Kaede Rukawa?” Yoongi blows a frustrated sigh, “Oh my god, you have an awful taste. That character’s annoying as fuck.”

               “Hey—”

               Yoongi holds up a finger, “You don’t get to justify yourself. You said you haven’t watched Slam Dunk. Which by the way, how did you even know Rukawa is good-looking?”

               Y/N slaps Yoongi’s hand away, “Hah! You admit he’s also good-looking!”

               Yoongi narrows his eyes at her, “That’s not the point. Answer the question.”

               “Fine. I saw a drawing of him in a product ad for a Shohoku jersey Mina has added to her cart.”

               Yoongi’s jaw drops, “Then, you just decided then and there you like him?”

               “I didn’t say I like him! I said he’s attractive!”

               “But he’s such a jerk to Sakuragi! How is that attractive?!”

               “You know, this is going nowhere again,” Y/N mutters and heads for the cashier.

               Yoongi follows close behind, “Just so you know, you’ll immediately get disillusioned when you watch the anime.”

               “If you’d succeed in convincing me to do so,” Y/N taunts.

               “I’ll watch Naruto in exchange,” Yoongi places the jersey on the counter, next to the Naruto headband.

               Y/N looks at him, brows shot up her forehead, “Are you sure? That’s like 500 plus episodes of investment.”

               Yoongi smirks, “I’m sure. Then in exchange, you have to watch Slam Dunk.” He places out his hand, “Deal?”

               Y/N goes silent. After another second of thought, she clasps her hand around Yoongi’s and shakes it, “Deal.”

               “That would be $50,” the cashier awkwardly smiles.

               Y/N quickly opens her wallet, fishing for some bills—

               “Thank you for giving the exact amount, sir.”

               Y/N looks at Yoongi, “You already paid? But I’ve got my forehead protector in it. I need to pay.”

               “I told you,” Yoongi smiles, “I’m paying for today.”

               Y/N goes silent. This smile on the man’s face is weird. It’s not the taunting one he flashes at her whenever she’s in meetings, as if to remind her he’s waiting for her next mistake. Nor is it the insulting tilt of his lips he sends her whenever he catches sight of her frazzled form by Nancy’s door after accomplishing all her boss’ pile of tasks. This smile has an oddly, unnervingly nonexistent subtext. It has none of his usual malice, nor his hint of capriciousness. Just a plain smile Yoongi most definitely never sends her way and—

               “You two are so sweet!”

               Y/N breaks from her trance and looks at the cashier, “W-what?”

               The cashier takes a step from her desk, self-conscious now of her abrupt statement. She looks like she’s just turned about nineteen. Probably her first job that’s why she’s a nervous wreck in front of a customer. “I-I said you two a-are so sweet,” she stutters, “I-I’ve never seen a couple before with such che-chemistry with each other.”

               What? Chemistry? Y/N scoffs. Her and Yoongi? It’s more likely disastrous energy.  “We-re not—”

               “Oh yeah, people usually comment that about us,” Yoongi pulls Y/N to his side, an arm looped around her frame. He sends her a sickening, too-cheesy lovey-dovey eyes, “Right, my cutie peachy pie, Y/N?”

               Y/N gives him an incredulous look. Yoongi doesn’t pay her mind. He turns back to the cashier, “We probably oozed too much of the honeymoon phase, no? My girlfriend and I just started dating, you see. So I guess, all the sweet stuff are natural to come at the start.”

               “I don’t think the sweetness will only come at the start for you two, sir,” the cashier grins, “For one, you two look like you’ve been with each other for so long.”

               “Yeah,” Yoongi answers, chuckling, “So long that the establishment of DRM has caught up with us and almost pushed us to be together.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops. Yoongi did not just say that—

               “That’s why, we’re still kinda unofficial now. We haven’t changed our PRSs yet.”

               “Oh,” the cashier nods slowly.

               “So,” Yoongi leans closer to the counter, “Would you help me and my cutie peachy pie be as official as we can be by writing us a date document to officialize our date?”

               “O-of course, sir! No problem!” The cashier beams, “May I get your names please?”

              “L/N Y/N and Min Yoongi.”

              “Okay, I’ll be back soon” the cashier bows before she disappears into their staff’s backroom.

               Y/N immediately pulls Yoongi’s cuff sleeve, pulling him to lean toward her, “What the fuck, Min? Cutie peachy pie?!”

               “What the fuck, to you, too, peachy pie,” Yoongi returns in harsh whispers, a frown marring his face, “What were you thinking denying to the cashier we’re not a couple? You almost gave us away!”

               “It’s you who almost gave us away! You outright hinted we’re doing all these stuff just to get the holiday benefit! Were you not listening to me yesterday? You don’t have to go through all drama theatrics just to get the date document! You can just ask for it plain and simple! They’ll automatically get it—”

               “Sorry, I took so long,” The cashier enters the counter. Y/N and Yoongi immediately let go of each other. The cashier smiles at the couple, “Here’s your date document, Mr. Min and Ms. L/N. I wish you two the best of luck!”

               “Y-yeah, thank you,” Y/N awkwardly smiles as she receives the sealed pale pink envelope.

               When they make it outside the shop, Y/N finally bursts. “What the hell did you just do in there?”

               “Uhh, pretending to be your lover? Like you should, too? Because you’re the one who offered me this deal to acquire the Heart Holiday paid week? I don’t know, you decide,” Yoongi gives her a once over.

               Y/N closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay, I’m sorry I almost put us up to fail by denying we’re a couple. But, you can’t blame me. I’m still adjusting to having you as my fake boyfriend when you’re my worst enemy for years. It’s an illogical upgrade and I still need time to prepare myself.”

               “Well, you shouldn’t have agreed to have our date today when you’re not yet done being such a difficult person,” Yoongi spits. Y/N’s almost taken aback by the complete 180 change from the smiling Yoongi who’s telling her he’s willing to suffer 500 plus episodes in exchange for her watching Slam Dunk for him. But then, that must have just been him acting like the professional scam that he is. Reality must sink in. Right in front of her is the true Min Yoongi. The insufferable man who doesn’t think twice about criticizing her, even in a large public place.

               Aggravation starts to light up in Y/N’s throat. She turns to Yoongi, voice dripping with venom and disdain, “Well, forgive me for not being able to stomach dating you. Especially someone like you who’s awfully disgusting as your choices of pet names.”

               Yoongi looks at her in silence. He looks down at the paper bags in his hands. He unceremoniously hands her the smaller one. “If you cannot stomach me dating you, you shouldn’t have asked for my help in the first place.” Yoongi gives her one last unreadable look. He shakes his head and walks away, disappearing into the moving crowd.

              Y/N looks away, feet stuck on the pavement. The awful taste of shame is blocking her esophagus.

 DAY 3 – January 28; Tuesday      

               Yoongi is avoiding her, Y/N’s sure of it. When she sat in her desk in the Creatives, the man didn’t let his eyes sweep over her. He didn’t even address her blatant staring just like he usually does. When Y/N makes her round in their office, Yoongi coincidentally decides it’s the right time to take a bathroom break, obviously avoiding having Y/N pass him by in his cubicle. This is weird. Yoongi is not one to avoid Y/N. It is Y/N who avoids him. Yoongi is the pesky, picky jerk of a fly who won’t stop bugging her. It’s not supposed to be her who’s standing awkwardly whenever he’s near, trying to get the man’s attention.

              The morning was stressfully spent with her trying to play cat and mouse with Yoongi. Fortunately for Y/N, no one in the Creatives has noticed this aberrant change in her attitude. She’s sure she’s gonna succumb to the depths of the earth from embarrassment. Y/N’s relieved everyone already knows she hates Yoongi and vice versa to even attempt to speak to her about it. That is until the clock hits eleven and a no-filter co-worker with the name of Dana Lee comes to her.

               “Hey, what’s up with you and Yoongi?”

               Y/N looks up from her desk. Dana is leaning above her, concern and curiosity etched into her face. From the little time Y/N has spent in the Creatives, it was easy to tell Dana is one of the most extroverted people she has ever met in her life. Unafraid to sound too prying or gossipy, Dana just speaks what’s on her mind. Be it about Myungsoo being too patronizing on her or Steven being so closed-off as a leader, Dana freely talks about anything. What’s only weird though is she also manages to not step on any line. This is something Y/N is simultaneously frustrated by and envious of. No one gets to say anything that they want and play so safe all at the same time. Though right now, Y/N is mulling over if she got Dana wrong as what she’s asking from her is a little bit too unnerving for someone she has never exchanged a word with before.

               “What?”

               The petite blonde woman comfortably plops onto a chair next to her desk. Y/N didn’t notice she even dragged a chair with her. Dana leans an elbow on her desk, “Just yesterday, he was awfully close to you. Now, it looks like he can’t even bear to look at you.”

               “What are you talking about?” Y/N awkwardly chuckles, “We’re not close. We both can’t bear to look at each other.”

               “Then what did happen yesterday?” Dana’s eyes were piercing right into hers.

              “Umm, maybe he’s got…a fever? Fever always does things to people, you know?” Y/N nervously chuckles

               Dana hums, leaning back on her chair, “I don’t think calling someone adorable and sweet has something to do with fever. ”

               “It’s Min Yoongi, Dana,” Y/N flips through the pages of her notebook, “If he doesn’t have a fever, then he’s just plain weird. He always says ridiculous things.”

               “Not always. I don’t even remember hearing him giving compliments ever since he got in here.”

               Y/N whips her head towards her.

               Dana chuckles, “You two do have something weird going on, huh?” Y/N opens her mouth to retort but Dana cuts her chance by handing her a long manila folder. “Anyway, I’m here to give you these. Here are the templates I’ve researched that could work for this month’s profile pages.”

               “Why…are you giving me these?”

               “I just want to,” Dana shrugs, “Since you ‘re part of the Creatives now, I figured why not let you help me pick out what templates to use as inspiration for our own magazine. Since you work closely with Nancy, you should probably know some things she wants to see in our issues.”

              “But—”

              “And inside it is also a mini-guide about the jargons we use to help you better understand Steven’s reports before you report them yourself to Nancy.”

              “You…you did this for me?”

              “Honestly? No. This folder is a peace offering to you so you won’t report me taking too many breaks to Nancy,” Dana informs, smiling. She picks up the booklet, “And this mini-guide? Yoongi made it. He asked me to give it to you yesterday but I forgot.”

              “Oh.”

              “Yeah, that’s why I find it weird he’s treating you like air now when yesterday he’s adamant about telling us to treat you with utmost respect as a co-worker.” Dana claps a hand over her mouth, “Oh my god, does it sound rude? I’m sorry, I kinda gave us away that we’re really wary of you. Okay, I really gave us a way no, but at least you know now…right?”

              “It’s okay, Dana,” Y/N smiles, waving a dismissive hand.

              “Are you really though?”

              “Yes, I’m okay,” Y/N smiles wider, “Thank you for the folder again.”

              “…Okies. See ya later.”

               “I am NOT okay.”

               Mina turns her swivel chair to face her bestfriend. The soft melodies of her radio fill the Accounting Department. Everyone else has left their seats for lunch. Mina sets her jaw on her palm, “Why, did Yoongi do something again? I already told you not to involve him anymore in your plan but you’re still stubborn. Don’t tell me I didn’t see you yesterday getting off work with him and you coming home late yesterday. I may have just set out a midnight snack for you and resigned early to bed, but I have eyes, Y/N. I just didn’t say anything yesterday because it’s late and it’s too early in the morning earlier to bring up, but I know.”

               Y/N pushes her fork around the leftovers of her packed lunch in her container, “Yoongi was really pushy yesterday about making it up to me about the dog-thing in the café so I had no choice. He even told me to quit this Tinder gaming because I’m gonna run out of time if I were to wait for someone else to act with me. And although he paid for everything even if I insisted to share the bill, Yoongi still had us eat street foods and enter some weird-ass ka-doodle shop. Who the hell takes someone into those things for a date?! And okay, he was a bit decent yesterday to not blow up things out of proportion just like he always does. But! He still sent me this cringe-worthy smile that I have to see as something positive because it doesn’t look like his ‘I-will-end-you’ smiles he usually flashes at me and this certainly bothers me. And now,” Y/N blows out an irritated sigh, “I found out he even made me this guide about the Creatives’ jargon and terminologies I’ve been desperate for a week.”

               “So, what really happened? You won’t be this conflicted if it’s just about a non-malicious smile and a guide.”

               “First and foremost, I am NOT conflicted,” Y/N puts down her fork, “In my defense, Yoongi’s still a dumb bitch because he almost uttered in front of the cashier that we are only going in their shop for the date document like ‘hello, this girl and I are just tryna fake it ‘til we make it the heart holiday benefit.’ He even shamelessly got the stroke of ego to even call me ‘cutie peachy pie’ in front of the cashier and I am so not having any of that—”

               “The point, Y/N?”

               “Fine,” Y/N slumps down in her chair, “The night ended with me telling Yoongi I can’t stomach dating him because he’s disgusting as his choice of pet names.”

               Mina winces, “Oof, that kinda hurts.”

               “How does it hurt?” Y/N throws up her hands, “Does he expect me to just accept the disgusting idea of me dating him when I’ve practically dreamt of strangling him in his sleep for so many nights? Not earlier that day he was just dissing me with song titles!”

               “Y/N,” Mina rubs her temples, “Even if he dissed you with those song titles, they are still shallow. But calling someone disgusting to date? That hurts bad. It’s bad as his dog-thing. It hurts to be seen as someone so disgusting to be treated as a romantic partner, even if it’s all for show, you know? It’s like telling a person no one would ever want to be with them.”

               Y/N looks away.

              Mina sighs, “How is he doing now?”

               “Well,” Y/N picks on the seams of her cardigan, “I don’t really know. All I know he’s not his usual self because he won’t look at me. Our desks literally face each other and it seems like letting  himself even accidentally glance to me will give him some sort of virus.”

               “Then you did hurt him.”

               “Minaaa,” Y/N whines.

              “As much as I despise him for what he’s done to you in the past, this time you’re in the wrong, Y/N, and I’m not gonna tolerate it. He tried to make it up with you.”

              “Mina, you’re supposed to take my side and make me feel better!”

              “Well, you won’t feel any better until you apologize. You’re feeling like this because your guilt is eating on your nerves. You’re not helping yourself if you’re just gonna deny everything, Y/N.”

              Y/N wishes she hasn’t talked this out with Mina. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be awkwardly lingering around the Creatives’ room, waiting for Yoongi to finish his briefing with their artists. It’s already seven in the evening. By this time, Y/N could be probably running a hot bath in her home while scrolling around her Facebook to nonchalantly react to her friend’s achievements. It’s always how her night goes. Not like this—creeping like a stalker again for a man she hates. The glass door busts open. Y/N scrambles for a corner to hide. But it’s too late.

              “Oh, Y/N, what are you still doing here?” some guy asks. Y/N thinks his name is Jeff. ‘Jeff’ pushes up the slipping portfolios back in his elbow.

              “I think she forgot something,” Yoona suggests.

              “Uhh, n-no—”

              “Who is she?” a nineteen-year-old-looking boy asks. His buttondown fits his narrow shoulders awkwardly. He’s probably a new hire.

              “She’s Y/N L/N, Seojoon. Nancy’s P.A.,” Seojoon’s eyes grow three times larger than their usual size. Yoona continues, “Would you mind going back to check if Ms. L/N left something in the meeting room? We were there yesterday.”

              “You don’t have to—”

              “Of course no, Ms. Park!” Seojoon bows, grinning at Y/N.

              Yoona clasps a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “You do not need to feel shy, Y/N. We are co-workers here.”

              “I am not—"

              “Ms. Park,” Seojoon hollers, “I don’t see anything here!”

              “Oh,” Yoona looks at Y/N, “then you’re probably waiting for Mr. Min.”

              “Mr. Min?” ‘Jeff’ sputters, almost letting go of his portfolios.

              “Yeah, Jeff, Mr. Min,” Yoona pats the man’s back, “Now go ahead and place the portfolios in my car. I’ll be the one to handle the box.”

              “N-no, Yoongi and I are not—”

              “Yes, Ms. Park.” Jeff bows. “Mr. Min..” He slowly nods at Y/N, “In the denial phase are we, huh?”

              Before Y/N could open her mouth and deny such repulsive remark, Yoona pops her head back into the office, “Seojoon! Come outside, Y/N didn’t leave anything.”

              Seojoon quickly steps out. Yoona gives Y/N a curt smile, “I don’t really fancy romantic relationships at work, but anyway, good luck with Mr. Min.”

              “We,” Y/N nervously chuckles, “We’re not—”

              “You don’t have to deny anymore Ms. L/N, we totally understand! I’m rooting for you and Mr. Min!” Seojoon grins. The two quickly leave and it’s just Y/N again in the quiet hallway.

              What just…happened? How do these people act like they long knew about her when she hasn’t even talked with them before?

              The door swings open again and Y/N jumps.

              “What are you doing here?”

              Y/N turns around. Yoongi is standing at the doorway, brows furrowed, hands on his black satchel. He looks like he doesn’t want to see her right now.

              Y/N’s eye twitches, “Obviously, I’m here to work. You know, past the eight to five work hours, to work on unfinished works I don’t really have.”

              Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Are you seriously being sarcastic right now?”

              “How could I not be when you’re acting like the biggest bitch alive?”

              Yoongi rubs a tired hand over his eyes, “Did you just wait here to start a fight? Because if you are, I’m already tired and I want to go home.” Yoongi steps aside and walks past her.

              What is wrong with him? Did he just walk out on her? When he’s the one who got all dramatic yesterday, acting like the victim when he also picked on her? Y/N holds up her chin. Fine, if he wants to act this way then so be it.

              But what about Nancy? The Heart Holliday?

              Y/N stops. She releases a long sigh. Why does she always end up fighting with him?

              Y/N runs out of the office, pushing the glass doors of Travel Loca wide open. At the end of the main hallway, she sees Yoongi entering the lift. Y/N leaves all thoughts and just sprints. She manages to stick a hand in the infinitesimal space before the metal doors completely close on her. The elevator dings and the doors start to open wide. Yoongi looks at her, eyes wide.

              “Look,” Y/N breathes out, entering the lift, “I know I’ve been an ass yesterday, but you can’t just pin everything on me like you always do. If you hadn’t dissed me with those CD titles, called me cutie peachy pie, and dumbly almost gave us out, I wouldn’t have—”

              “What are you really here for, Y/N?”

              The metal doors close again. Y/N closes her eyes, “Fuck, I’m sorry okay?! I didn’t mean to say those mean words to you. I was just frustrated and mad when you called me a difficult person and I guess I just blew up, okay?” Y/N looks at him, “I’m sorry.”

              “If you’re sorry, why are you still denying that we’re dating in front of my subordinates just now?”

              “You heard that?”

              “Of course,” Yoongi adjusts his bag on his shoulder, “Jeff has the loudest mouth in here and Seojoon is coming in close for that spot. It’s not hard for the two of them to announce what’s happening here to the next city.”

              Y/N self-consciously rubs her arm, “I’m not used to people crowding me like that and asking about that stuff, okay? I’m still adjusting to this…situation we have. I’m sorry, okay? I promise I won’t give us away again. I’m serious this time.”

              “Okay,” Yoongi quips.

              Y/N looks up at him, “Wait, you’re just going to let it go like that?���

              “Of course no,” Yoongi answers, smiling.

              The growing smile on Y/N’s face falls flat, “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

              “I want you to make it up to me.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops, “What?!”

               “When I did you wrong, I made it up to you. Now, it’s your turn,” Yoongi grins. Y/N crosses her arms. Yoongi’s smile grows, “Take it or I leave this deal.”

               Y/N bites her cheeks. She closes her eyes and sighs, “Fine.”

               “Good. Glad to know we’re on the same page,” Yoongi says, pressing the ‘P1’ button on the elevator just before the lift passes it.

               Y/N gawks at him, “When did you have a car?”

               “It’s not mine. Steven let me borrow his for today.” The doors open. Yoongi walks toward the gun-metal gray Ford on the far right and presses the remote open. He opens the driver’s side and looks at Y/N. “Why are you still standing there? Do you want me to open the door for you, sweetheart?”

               “Fuck you.”

               “I will open it if you want me to,” Yoongi chuckles, starting for the passenger side.

               “Shut up!” Y/N dashes to the passenger’s side, blocking Yoongi from pulling the door for her. Yoongi cackles.

               The ride was silent for a few minutes. Save for Yoongi who kept on bugging Y/N with the same question the moment they pulled out of Rockfort Building.

              “So,” Yoongi asks, “where are we really going?”

                Y/N has been muttering directions for a few minutes now, unrelenting to tell Yoongi the exact address. She figured to keep it a secret lest Yoongi make a scene once he knew where they’re going. But with Yoongi pestering her now like a five-year-old toddler, Y/N thinks she might have made the wrong decision. Y/N closes her eyes, “Shut up and just follow my directions.”

               “I won’t if you won’t tell me where you plan to take us. For all I know, you’ve contacted some hoodlums to ambush me in a dark alley.”

                Y/N turns to her side, letting her back face him.

                 Yoongi pokes her shoulder, “Y/NNNN—”     

               “Fine! Turn left at the 2nd stoplight and then a right at the 3rd stoplight. There’s a Burger King joint there. Satisfied?” Y/N glares at him.

               “You’re taking me to fast-food?” Yoongi dramatically places a hand over his chest, “I thought you said dates are supposed to be intimate and of high-quality.”

               “Well, when it comes to you, it’s a different case. Now, shut up.”

               The street was dark. Save for the brightly lit Burger King establishment. The white and yellow lighting inside the restaurant seems to bleed outside. They color the washed-out paint of the closed shops beside it. Some manage to spread onto the wet and cold pavement. The raven night sky further emphasizes the restaurant’s colors with no other lit building to compete with. There were street lamps, but their lights were not bright enough to register distinctly into one’s eyes. They all just looked like burnt-out stars.

               They seem to remind Y/N of the man next to her when they pulled up to the order reception area of the drive-thru.

               “Here’s your order, sir,” The crew staff hands Yoongi a huge paper bag, “Would you like to add anything more?”

               “Oh, yeah, um, do you have a document for like dates and—”

              “Oh no, don’t mind him,” Y/N clamps a hand over Yoongi’s mouth, “We don’t have anything else to add for now. But if we do, we’re gonna go inside to get them later. Thank you,” she smiles at the confused staff.

              When the windows roll up, Yoongi tears Y/N’s hand off his face. “What the fuck was that for?”

              Y/N scowls, “You’re being stupid for almost giving us away! Again!”

              “But I already followed what you said! You told me to just ask for the document plain and simple!”

              Y/N places a hand over her forehead, “That only works when you’ve already spent some time in a date-site enough to be considered as a date. How can Burger King know we’re having a date when we just pulled up and ordered at the drive-thru? If that is so, then they would have been distributing date documents so easily to every single car that passes by.”

              “How will we let them know, then?” Yoongi asks.

              “We park in their parking lot and stay there to eat. Where they can see us spending time with each other. Then we go inside and ask for the document.”

              “Then why did you even insist we go to a drive-thru if we’re gonna go out and enter the restaurant later anyway?” Yoongi throws up his hands, “We could have just dined-in and eat out like usual.”

              “Because I don’t want anyone to see us or else we’ll lose another opportunity to get a goddamn date document.”

              “How can you say we’ll lose another opportunity?”

              “Because I know we’re going to argue,” Y/N looks at Yoongi. His eyes are piercing hers and his brows are scrunched up. Y/N points at to him, “Look, your face is telling me you’re already about to start some shit up.” She reaches across the console and pokes his forehead with her index and middle finger to spread apart the man’s brows, “There, you look less like a dumb asshole now.”

              Yoongi slaps her hand away. Y/N snorts. Yoongi shoves the paper bag into her hand, “Just shut up and eat.”

              Ten minutes later and fingers coated with salt from the fries, Yoongi breaks the silence, “What were you looking at just before we got in the drive-thru? You seem very lost in it.”

              Y/N spares him a glance before going for another fry, “Obviously not you.”

              “I’m being serious.”

              “Okay, fine. The sky,” Y/N slumps deeper into her seat.

              “Wow,” Yoongi chuckles, “I never thought you were one of those aesthetic-obsessed girls of Pinterest.”

              “Where are you going with this? If you’re gonna insult me again, just so you know, I paid for tonight’s meal. Therefore, I’ve already made it up with you. And so, I am in no obligation to–”

              “I’m trying to initiate small talk,” Yoongi turns to her, smirking, “Now look who’s the one starting some shit up?”

              Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

              Yoongi snickers, “Can’t you just answer my question? I’m just trying to have a conversation without us screaming each other’s heads off. It’s getting pretty tiring.”

              Y/N looks down on the empty food wrapper on her lap. She closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay,  but don’t laugh at me. I’m really…into light set against skies. Street lamps, overhead lights in cables, lit up buildings—anything that is illuminated, as long as there are skies in the background. I like skies in general because looking at it feels like viewing a painting in a real classy museum for free. I like free stuff. But, I like skies more if the light that comes with it makes their whole picture entirely different from what it’s really supposed to be.”

              “Like what?”

              “Say for example,” Y/N leans nearer to Yoongi to point at the restaurant, “Burger King is the only brightly lit establishment here. And its bright use of primary colors on the building creates a greater contrast against the blackness of the sky. If you think about it more, Burger King kinda looks like an evil radioactive plant set in a post-apocalyptic world,” Y/N gives Yoongi a pointed look as she raises her hands, “Life’s been boring lately. I’m just trying to see things differently to entertain myself.”

              Yoongi looks at her, mouth agape.

              Y/N points at him, “I told you, don’t laugh. You asked for it. That’s my answer.”

              “I’m not trying to laugh,” Yoongi chuckles, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m into light fixtures.”

              “Light fixtures?”

              “Yeah.  Lamps, light bulbs, lighted chandeliers—anything that’s supposed to light up for interior designing. It’s not as special as your affinity for your light-in-the-skies. I just like light fixtures because, well, they’re pretty and practical. And I like interior designing. I could spend a lot of hours just walking around the home department in malls,” Yoongi turns toward her, “What else do you like?”

              Y/N’s eyes turn into slits, “Are we playing twenty questions right now?”

              “No. But if you want, we can.”

              “Fine. Okay…I like Naruto.”

              Yoongi gives Y/N a blank stare, “You already told me that yesterday.”

              “Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but I think you don’t get me yesterday. What I mean by ‘like’ is that I’m totally obsessed with that anime. And manga. All throughout elementary and high school, there’s not a day where I blabbered about Naruto. I can’t believe an anime can be so, so good. The plot is so well-done and the characters’ motivations and desires are fleshed out so good that they almost resemble real people. The story world is so concrete that I truly wished it existed so I can just go there whenever I want,” Y/N sighs, “Not to say Uchiha Sasuke is goddamn handsome.”

              “Now, I see.”

              “What?”

              Yoongi chortles, “You have a type.”

              Y/N frowns, “What do you mean with that?”

              Yoongi grins, “You like black-haired guys with poker faces and horrible personalities.”

              Y/N releases an offended scoff, “Ho-horrible? Sasuke is not horrible! He just had circumstances he cannot escape!”

              “Well, Kaede Rukawa is horrible.”

              “Are you seriously still fixated on my attraction to that guy?”

              “How can I not?” Yoongi exasperates, “He’s such a pretentious bitch to his teammates and he calls Sakuragi a ‘moron.’ Multiple times!”

              “Well, that’s the purpose of a character that acts antagonistically, you know?” Y/N informs, “They’re supposed to challenge the protagonist to further elevate conflict. And from what I know, he and Sakuragi eventually resorted to a friendly rivalry.”

              “Yeah, they did, but still, it doesn’t excuse his terrible attitude—Wait, how did you know about that? You said yesterday you’ve never watched Slam Dunk before.”

              Y/N flushes, “Well, I-I have hands, you know? And a brain. A little research about their high-five is not that much of a hassle.”

              “Wait, you researched that part with their high-five? Through what, fandom.com?” Y/N guiltily side-glances the side mirror. Yoongi tongues his cheek, “Wow. Just wow. Congratulations, you spoiled your own experience.”

              Y/N turns to him with a scowl on her face, “At least I tried to know a thing about Slam Dunk! What about you? Did you already start watching Naruto just like what you oh-so confidently declared yesterday?”

              Yoongi looks down, “…No.”

              “Hah!” Y/N points a finger at him, a triumphant smile on her face, “See? You’re just a big-talker Min Yoongi! You say a lot of shit but you can’t even do one of them!”

              “Hey! I said I will watch Naruto just yesterday! Did you expect me to start watching it as soon as possible? In case you don’t know, I’ve got lots of work to do thanks to Nancy. You talk as if you’re so great when you haven’t even watched Slam Dunk yourself!”

              “I’ll watch it, okay?! Happy, now?”

              “Very,” Yoongi gibes at her, “You better watch it because I’ve got to suffer through 500 plus episodes.”

              “Fine.”

              “Fine.”

              Silence settles over the car again. A minute or two passes with just the sound of food wrappers’ wrinkling and folding serving as the white noise along with the whir of the air con. Yoongi  leans forward and presses the on button of the car stereo. Post Malone and Swae Lee’s Sunflower fills the car.

               The song is in the second verse when Y/N decides to break the silence between them, “Do you…like this song?”

               “Yeah,” Yoongi smiles, “The heavy beats ironically compliment the soft melody so well. I find it…very unusual and oddly comforting.” Yoongi looks at her, “Do you, too?”

               “Yeah,” Y/N picks up the last fry in their paper container, “I’m not really into pop songs, especially popular ones. They tend to be all about shallow declarations of love or overused odes to sex and horniness because everyone knows sex sells. But this one is gonna be an exception. It just feels so…real.”

               “How so?”

               “Well, it’s all thanks to the sunflower metaphor. Sunflowers are very pretty and they last very long. But they’re also stressful to grow because they drain the other plants from receiving nutrients. That’s why they’re flowers that symbolize true love. The love that is sweet, but also draining. And the fact that you said the heavy beats compliment the soft melody is an audial language to further layer on the metaphor of the song.”

               Yoongi looks at her with a curious glint in his eyes, “How did you know these stuff?”

               “We-well, I learned some things about the flower language in a book about star-crossed soulmates I read a year ago. Do-don’t laugh. It’s a good book, okay.”

               “I’m not even laughing,” Yoongi chuckles.

               Y/N  gives him a pointed stare, “Well, you’re doing it now.”

               “Okay, okay,” Yoongi wheezes, “I’m not laughing.”

               “Sure.”

               “I’m serious,” Yoongi insists, now calm. “I just chuckled because I didn’t imagine you’re into that stuff.”

               “What stuff?”

               Yoongi smiles, “Cute stuff.”

               “Cu-cute?” Y/N gawks, “They’re not cute! That’s so downgrading—you know, just because this stuff talks about love, it doesn’t mean they value any less than other abstractions and values out there.”

               “That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about it being adorable.”

               “Adorable?”

               “You,” Yoongi purses his lips, “It’s adorable that you actually like this stuff. Stuff far from what you do at work. I thought your head is just filled with unpublished stories and worship chants for Nancy.”

               Y/N narrows her eyes at him. Yoongi guffaws. Sunflower ends and some pop song which Y/N doesn’t know starts to play. Y/N crosses her arms, “Let’s do the 20 Questions instead. Having a serious conversation with you is draining.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi chuckles, “How will we do it then?”

              “10 questions each.  Answerable by ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or whatever,” Y/N turns to Yoongi, “I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?”

               “Blue.”

               Y/N clicks her tongue, “Very typical.”

               “What about you?” Yoongi asks.

               “Yellow. What’s your favorite food?”

              “Lamb skewers. Especially the ones sold in the small diner near to my high school. What’s your favorite food?”

               Y/N whips her gaze away from him, “…Fried chicken intestines.”

               “Whoa,” Yoongi turns to her, eyes wide in amusement, “So I got you your favorite food right off the bat yesterday? I didn’t know it will be this easy. This is amazing.”

               Y/N pointedly looks at him, “Shut up. How many crushes did you ever have?”

               “W-what?”

               “Just answer it,” Y/N grits her teeth.

               “Fine,” Yoongi relents, “One.”

               “O-one?” Y/N sputters, “Oh my God. You’re a lovesick puppy.”

              Yoongi furrows his forehead, “What are you talking about?”

              Y/N covers her mouth in disbelief, “I can’t believe Jeon Seoyeon is your first crush at what age, 29? Oh my God, Yoongi.”

               “What?” Yoongi chokes out, “I-I’m not into her!”

               “Say that when you’re not blushing like hell then I’ll believe you,” Y/N smirks, “Next question.”

               “No, I do not have a crush on her!” Yoongi insists, “Where did you even get such ridiculous speculation?!”

               Y/N grins, “I’ll count that as a question. I got it from Mina”

               “What?!”

               “My turn to ask now, Min,” Y/N asserts, “What’s your first job?”

               “Video editor in an advertising firm. Small company,” Yoongi looks at her, “How many crushes did you have and what’s your first job?”

               “I’ll count that as two questions,” Y/N smiles. “Crushes? Three. One of them upgraded from that. First job? Well, I was a secretary in a news company. J&M.”

               “J&M?” Yoongi gapes, “That’s like, the top one news company in the country. I didn’t know you worked for them.”

              “Well, it’s horrible,” Y/N grimaces, “I hated every single minute I spent in there. Didn’t even know why I stayed there for two years. The days just,” Y/N sighs, waving a hand, “seems to pass like a blur.”

               “Two years? And the next two you spent in Travel Loca?” Yoongi hums, “What did you do when you were 21?”

               Y/N turns to him, fully facing him now, “I’m just going to tell you this for the sake of ending this ‘date’ as soon as possible. You don’t get to speak about this in the office, okay?.” Yoongi nods. Y/N closes her eyes, “Okay, I spent two years after graduation home studying and doing part-time. Even if I had Latin honors, the companies I wanted to apply in won’t accept me because apparently, I’m too young. I graduated from college when I was 19. Skipped two years in high school. My grades were enough to get me accelerated,” Y/N looks down at her hands, “It’s one of my achievements I’m really proud of. But…it ended up producing more cons than pros in the long run.”

               “Don’t say that,” Y/N looks up at Yoongi. Yoongi smiles, “That’s still an achievement worthy of being proud of, you know? Everyone wants to get out of high school as soon as they can. But not everyone gets to really do it.”

               Y/N gapes at him. Why is Min Yoongi suddenly giving her encouragement like this? Her, out of all people? From what she remembers, Yoongi is her biggest critic in the office. Whenever an opportunity opens for her making a mistake, Yoongi catches it and will definitely not pass up a chance to throw her criticisms or petty insults.  And now, he’s spouting comforting words?! Min Yoongi is anything but comforting!— Y/N looks away. It’s getting late. It’s just the long night taking a toll on them. She fixes their leftovers in their paper bag, “What are your most embarrassing moments? Do you have a pet? Favorite movie? Favorite song?”

               “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Yoongi holds a hand up, “Four questions in one go?”

               “Yes, four,” Y/N glances at him, then proceeds back to tidying up, “It’s getting late. We have to end the game soon.”

               “But you already know I have a pet, that’s cheating—”

               “It’s not cheating. We still get to ask 20 questions,” Y/N deadpans. “ You only have four questions left. I have two. Now, answer my questions, Min, because I want to go home.”

               Yoongi sighs, “Fine. I have a pet. A dog named Holly. Everyone knows—including you because there’s nothing else I post in my social media but him. Favorite movie is Minority Report. I like the twist in the end and it’s notion against predetermined futures even if the whole system in the story world is about determining crimes supposed to happen in the future. Favorite song has to be, uhh….anything made by Lorde. Love the calm in her rough and edged beats and the unadulterated honesty in her tracks. I have a lot of favorite songs but the first one that came to my mind when I want to play something again and again was her songs so that’s that. And, most embarrassing moment?” Yoongi eyes Y/N but she only continues to keep her gaze on her lap. He sighs, “Well, it has to be when I have to repeat years while studying. Two years in fact.”

              At this, Y/N glances at him. Yoongi pulls a straight smile, “I have to repeat one year in elementary because we moved houses in the middle of the school year because of a job offer. That’s alright though. Dad got a better job out of it and we lived more comfortably. But what hurt was when I have to repeat my fourth year. My thesis paper was okay. But…I flunked the defense big time. I can’t talk for shit back then. I mean, until now, I’m still having a hard time because I don’t really like hanging out with a lot of people. But past me was a real mess. Had a breakdown just right when it’s my turn with the panel. And you know how big of a deal thesis writing is to graduate Junior High. Because of that, my appeals were of course rejected by the board. So, I have to repeat that year again until I pass the thesis writing. It’s embarrassing that I get to see my batchmates graduate to senior high while I’m still stuck in junior high. In the very last year, of all years. It’s even more embarrassing to my family.”

               Y/N bites her lip. She leans nearer to Yoongi, “But, they still treated you..okay, right?”

               “I’ll count that as a question,” Yoongi sing-songs, winking at Y/N.

               Y/N frowns, “I’m being serious.”

               “Okay, okay,” Yoongi chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “But it still means you only got one question left.”

               “It’s okay. I wanted to end my turn as soon as possible. Answer my question, Yoongi.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi smiles, “Well, my parents never told it in my face, but I know they still see it as a disappointing waste of one year. It’s a different case with my relatives though but it doesn’t matter much. What only matters is my family. We’re fine now. My parents look like they don’t mind anymore of what happened during high school.”

               “That’s good then,” a small smile forms on Y/N’s face.

               “Yeah,” Yoongi says, smiling wider.

              The two fall into silence as the music in the car changes. Abba’s Take a Chance on Me starts to play. When it reaches the chorus, Yoongi decides to break the awkwardness that has suddenly settled in the air, “What’s your last question, Y/N?”

              “O-oh,” Y/N  fiddles with her cardigan, “uh, well…Oh! I already told you my definition of a date, but you never told me yours. How would you like a date to be?”

              “It’s a secret,” Yoongi grins.

              “What?!” Y/N exclaims, “A secret?! Why would that be a secret?! Do you know we’re supposed to have more dates to seal the holiday vacation for sure? It would help a lot if we know how we each want our dates to go so we can deal with each other a lot less stressful than it already is!”

              “My answer is still ‘secret,’” Yoongi smiles smugly, crossing his arms. “Also, you already spent all your questions. It’s my turn from now on.”

              “Fine,” Y/N bites back, frown deepening when she hears Yoongi chuckle.

              “How many times have you dyed your hair?”

              “One,” Y/N gives him a challenging stare.

              “How many times have you traveled locally?”

               “Three.”

               “What’s your lucky number?”

               “Fourteen.”

               “What’s your number?”

               “01048648564—wait, no!”

               “Okay, thank you!” Yoongi pulls up his phone.

               “Wait, Yoongi!” Y/N tries to snatch his phone from his grip. Yoongi turns away, successfully clicking ‘add contact’ with a wide grin on his face.

               Yoongi tucks the phone back into his pants’ pocket. He peers over the car’s dashboard and gasps dramatically, “Oh, well look at that, it’s already getting late. My, my, 10:32 P.M.” He looks at Y/N, grinning widely, “We better get the date document so we can get going now, huh?”

               Y/N scowls at him. Yoongi snickers as he gets out of the car. It only takes five minutes before he goes back onto the parking lot, waving a pale pink envelope in the air.

               Yoongi pulls away from the parking lot, “So shall I now drive you home?”

               Y/N frowns as she looks away from him, focusing on the dark streets outside.

               “What’s your address, hmm?” Yoongi prods, a beaming smile still on his face.

              A beat passes. Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. “Drop me at the Village Estates. 27th Street, East Drive.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi chirps and keys in the address in the car’s navigator.

               The ride is silent with only the car music serving as the white noise. Y/N has lost track of the tracks that played in the speakers. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from the window for the entirety of the ride until Yoongi pulls in front of her apartment complex.

               “We’re here.”

               Y/N pushes the door open and wordlessly gets out of the car. She doesn’t wait on the pavement to see Yoongi off nor does she turns around to look at the man one last time. She just walks off. But before she gets inside the main entrance, she hears Yoongi holler behind her, “Tonight was fun, yeah, Y/N?”

               Y/N, still with her back turned to him, raises a hand to dismissively wave goodbye.

               “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” Yoongi laughs. Soon after, the street was silent again.

              Y/N arrives in a quiet flat. There are no re-runs of a show playing on the TV. There is also no clamor of the utensils in their kitchen. Only the light on their narrow entrance hall was left lit open. There’s also a bowl of porridge covered on the table. When Y/N rounds on Mina’s room, she finds her bestfriend peacefully snoring deep in her duvet. Y/N smiles. After cleaning up and running a quick bath, Y/N reaches an arm to turn off her bedside lamp only to realize this silence of the night is not for long. Because the moment Y/N lays her head on her pillow, her phone rings with a loud ‘ding!’

               Unknown Number: Just wanna let you know I got home safe. I had fun tonight. You’re already forgiven for yesterday, sweetheart 😉.

               Y/N groans and throws her phone onto the other side of the bed.

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Taglist | @fangirls94​ @ditttiii​ @chogiyeol-utopia​​

Disclaimer: The dark side banter in Day 1 was based on Rob Reiner’s (1989) When Harry Met Sally’s car scene! I just loved the characters’ chemistry so much! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners.  The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Sorry this chapter came a little later than my original schedule. A lot has changed in the plot points of THH while I was outlining it. Hence, the supposed two-shot is now a series with five chapters! I didn’t expect my first series will be like this. It’s totally unexpected from my initial plans! Anyway, the Act 2 is supposed to comprise the whole 2nd act of the story. But as I was writing it, I noticed I’m already bordering the 35k wordcount (and I’m not yet near the end of the 2nd act asdfghjkl). So I decided to cut it into 2 parts so I may not overwhelm you with a gigantic word-vomit of a text post. I guess the cut was also a good device because the 2nd part of Act 2 is on a different tone from the 1st part.  Thank you for reading this 24k monstrosity and feel free to say what you think about this chapter! If you want to get added in the taglist, just hit me up in the PMs or Asks! I’ll be waiting there ~( > v < )~

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed.

[ceruleanwhore]

MLB rant

     At this point, I am genuinely pissed at Miraculous. Among other things, Thomas has wrecked the quality of the show over shipping bullshit with episodes like weredad and, in the process, fucked everything over so that now, no matter what happens or who ends up with who, it’s going to be shit. In a lot of ways, he’s done to Miraculous what Bryke did to Avatar in the comics- ruined established characters and the overall story by trying and failing to take care of the relationships/shipping. At this point, Marinette’s character is so awful in relation to this that I truly can’t fathom how Adrien and Luka can still tolerate her, never mind actually like her. Where she should have been steadily improving this whole time, she is instead getting much worse. This, of course, is because the show is constructed such that there is only the few main plot aspects everything revolves around (Hawkmoth and the love square) but, even though Astruc is clearly trying to drag the show out, he isn’t adding any other layers to the show to make up for how flat it is, so in the process of keeping those main plot points static, he has ended up fucking over his own show and dragging Marinette’s character down. At the start of the series, Marinette was clumsy and socially awkward but in a somewhat endearing way. Now, a school year or so later, she hasn’t improved at all and, in spite of now being Ladybug which would be the perfect catalyst for her character development, she’s genuinely getting worse to the point where, as we see in Desperada, she now acts like she has brain damage or something. 

 The degradation of Marinette’s character is a direct result of Atruc trying to shut down side ships, including some within the love square, in spite of how completely unnecessary it was. He shouldn’t have been doing stuff like that at all, honestly, but things like that should have only been done if and when he was going into the endgame and setting up to finally put them into canon relationships. There are a few ways he could have done this more successfully:     

1. In season 2, after Ladybug flat out rejects him, have that be enough to initiate the process of Adrien moving on and have him be completely over her by the end of the season but leave him single. Meanwhile, from the beginning of the show, it should be shown how the way Adrien constantly says that Marinette is “just a friend” wears on her over time, plus Luka showing up adds another element that would shake things up and leave her feelings for Adrien unsteady. Eventually, maybe later season 2, Adrien would make another comment like that again and that would be the last straw at which point she’d be done. Shortly after that, she’d get together with Luka.

     2.Kinda like what I just described but after Adrien gets over Ladybug and Marinette gets over him, they could get together as Marichat in some rich dramatic irony. 

     So then there is the matter of character development. I’ve already lamented Marinette, but I’d argue that basically none of the characters have any significant character development. Chloe had the opportunity that got royally fucked over, which was probably also for the sake of maintaining stasis, but other than a couple people here and there, there isn’t much to be found. I think this is because there isn’t actually much content, when it comes to this show. About half of each episode is taken up by the akuma and what’s left tends to be more concerned with cute things like Marinette facetiming Alya about Adrien or bringing some macrons somewhere or whatever and, like I said earlier, there are no subplots that would provide more depth to the show and help promote character growth. I think it would work better if a) there were subplots and b) there wasn’t an akuma every episode, maybe just every couple. It gets really boring and repetitive to have half of every episode be basically the same and take up so much space so that there isn’t room to put in real shit and character growth around it. 

     Regarding Chloe, if they were going to give her a fucking miraculous, they should’ve been planning on using that to kickstart her redemption arc. It makes absolutely no sense to trust her with it and then have her proceed to not change at all. All it does is create a shitty situation where this bitch is now a superhero but she’s still a mega bitch so then when she no longer gets to be a superhero, that adds to her being a miserable bitch. Honestly, it doesn’t even remotely make sense why Marinette gave it to her in the first place and when I look back on it I think it’s literally nothing more than pure pandering in response to what people were posting on Tumblr. It would’ve made a lot more sense for her to have had some level of preliminary character development first before Marinette presented her with the miraculous. Also, maybe it could be after she’d made a bitchy comment about Chloe that then got a response that showed Marinette how she was wrong and made her feel bad and this is her way of making it up to her but, more importantly, showing how she’s getting over her prejudice and now choosing to put faith in Chloe and support the progress she and those around her have witnessed. Then, the miraculous and the responsibilities that go with it (plus Marinette’s inevitable end of episode apology) would catalyze Chloe’s continued growth and development but like the amount of growth she’d have already would be enough for her to act more maturely and keep her identity a secret, which would be A Thingᵗᵐ. 

     However, along that same vein, I think it’s absurdly stupid how they really went with the “everyone gets a miraculous (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ *:･ﾟ ” thing. It makes sense to bring in one more but not this bullshit where everybody gets one but only sometimes. Bring on one more, permanently, maybe even add another later on (MUCH later on) if necessary but don’t just have this bullshit where Marinette just picks the flavor of the day. Also, her now being the guardian is the genuine worst decision, period. If it’s really that important to boot Wu and bring in a new guardian, have it be someone else like Alya, idk or, even better, a new character entirely. Wu said he had to be trained so I’d like to propose to have it so that he’s been training one for a while but we just don’t see them because since their training is incomplete, Wu can’t trust them with Ladybug and Chat Noir’s secret identities yet. But jesus fuck, Marinette should not be that person. She’s already quite Mary Sue already, she really doesn’t need that and the episode where she’s able to weild all the miraculouses to just throw in more shit about how she’s so good and so powerful and all that stuff. 

     So, then, there are inconsistencies in the writing, mainly in regards to their secret identities and shipping. In one of the episodes in season three, Master Wu told them they would have to give up their miraculouses if they ever learned each other’s identities, which is incredibly fucking stupid since he then just hands her all the miraculouses and makes her the new guardian. So she’s just supposed to hold that boundary because he told her to when she’s now the one who’d be enforcing it and taking the miraculouses if that ever came to be? So if (when) they learn their identities, she’s supposed to, as the guardian, take Adrien’s and give up her own miraculous but then keep on being the guardian? I think the line from Master Wu was supposed to add drama and suspence but that only works if you don’t go and negate it three seconds later. The other inconsistency that, to me, was glaringly obvious and just as annoying was when Marinette, Adrien, and Kagami went to Andre’s. Back when this guy was first introduced, the way it all worked was that when someone came up, he’d make them an individualized ice cream cone based on the person they love. In season three, all of a sudden, for no reason whatsoever, the fact that it’s three people coming up to get ice cream changes the entire system to some other bullshit all so we can get some over done, in-your-face adrienette vs adrigami tension in which Marinette is a Good Girlᵗᵐ. 

     Then, lastly, I find it extremely odd how there are practically no background characters and that the few there are tend to be recurring. If there are going to be 77+ episodes of “oh no that dude got akumatized”, it would be prudent to have more throwaway background characters to use for the akumas and then only use the main/recurring ones for that intermittently and only when it adds something to the episode and/or the plot as a whole. The classroom kids shouldn’t be the default, they should be used sparingly and with care. Not to mention how it also would be good to have more background characters just so stuff like scenes where they’re in the hallways in between classes don’t look so awkward because there’s just this one class of kids in this entire school (plus Marco) and literally nobody else. It’s a thing in every film or show that has ever been made but in this one, for no reason, there just are no extras and it feels so awkward at times. 

     The way that every single episode is set up the same and how there is that lack of background characters to akumatize so there ends up being a bunch of reakumatizations, plus the way that nothing much actually happens, in terms of plot progression, after season one all make it so that the show as a whole after the end of season one feels really stagnant. It’s like Astruc is trying to hold out and wait to drop actual resolution to any of the main plot points until later on but he hasn’t sufficiently constructed other layers to the story, like subplots, to have it still be engaging. In my opinion, MLB could’ve actually been completely tied up with the whole Hawkmoth business back in the season one finale, based on the content of the show, because there’s just not that much there. It makes me mad because the show has a great concept and I love the characters, but it’s just been shit and it’s not getting better.

[questionablygourmet]

Rewatch meta: mirrors, connections, and intrusion in Aperitif & Amuse-Bouche

This is the first of what is intended to be a series of analytical posts based on what sticks out to me as I do a close rewatch of the show, roughly 1-3 episodes at a time.  This first one will mainly focus on the introduction of major motifs and thematic elements in the show; future posts may follow in that vein or just whatever else about the episodes gets me thinking.

-------

One of the aspects of the show that makes it such a vibrant experience, and lends vibrancy in turn to analysis and transformative works in fandom is its rich use of motif in how it communicates what is important and what is going on with the characters and in the narrative.  The first two episodes are set up: they present to us the main characters along with the essentials of who they are, and they’re the opening sally of (some of) major themes and motifs.

Mirrors 

Okay, the first thing I’m going to talk about here is not actually the aspect that got it included in this section, but I must: right before our very first look at Hannibal Lecter, we pan up his table and see fruit on a platter, mirrored in the polished surface of the wood. The fruit was the first thing that caught my eye, because of course it did, pomegranates being a pervasive motif in the fandom, and it’s an interesting layout: there are strong mythological associations for pomegranate (Hades & Persephone, etc) and figs (Dionysus, etc).  Strawberries, somewhat less so; they are often associated with love, fertility, and/or new life, but in a less obvious-in-modern-pop-culture fashion.

So.  An aesthetically beautiful array of fruit as a perfect symbolic introduction to the character of Hannibal!  ... and then its mirror image in the shine of the table.  Mirrors/the concept of mirroring will become a huge Thing specifically between Hannibal and Will over the course of the series.  We also get “the mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, rather than the worst of someone else,” which honestly is a line that fascinates me in context of how, in seasons 2-3, the idea of Will and Hannibal blurring together, being mirror images to each other/two sides to a coin gets played with and explored.

The irony here is that Hannibal really does want Will to be his authentic self - yet by the end of the series, whatever it may or may not have been Before (”Before you, and after you”), Will’s authentic self is in many ways a sort of mirror to Hannibal.  An answer to the question of Hannibal, as much as Hannibal is an answer to the question of Will.

Connection

So the really obvious place this comes out in a big way is with the killer du jour for episode 2 - Stammets’s whole schtick is that he’s obsessed with creating gardens of physical connections between people in the form of his creepy (and GROSS, honestly this is the grossest episode in the show for me) mushroom graves.  

But really, this is also ultimately one of the deepest-running themes of the show.  It’s central to our Murder Husbands, both of them profoundly isolated from the rest of humanity until they find each other.  It’s front-and-center with Franklyn and Tobias, both wanting to reach out to Hannibal (and Franklyn also to Tobias), and him having none of it.  And it’s necessarily fundamental to all the other interpersonal relationships, in the explicit variation of how mutual a given connection between characters is (and often, the contrast in how each of them perceives that connection - “Could I ever have understood you?” “No.”).  

And it’s more subtly emphasized in these two episodes as we’re being introduced to and developing an understanding of how Will works as an investigator.  

“You make jumps you can’t explain.”  “The *evidence* explains.”  

“Associations come quickly.” 

I roll my eyes every single time Hannibal says “pure empathy” in the show because while, yes, Will has plenty of empathy, as he protests to Jack in the very first scene, the point is he has an active imagination, and applies it to the evidence.  Will is so good at what he does because he makes connections between general knowledge he has and details of the crime scenes that seem strange or even nonsensical to others.  Antler velvet in the wounds?  Well, what do I know about antler velvet?  And then that knowledge he has about it promoting healing probably later supports his assertion that the killer experiences some form of love for his victims.

(It didn’t seem to fit in well in the earlier section, but the mirror motif also comes into play with the Shrike case in that the first Copycat murder is a distorted reflection of what the Shrike does, for the purposes of making the essential elements of the Shrike murders stand out more starkly to Will.)

In the Stammets case, his mental reconstruction at the crime scene itself is literally just a review of what they’ve already been able to conclude from the physical evidence, plus the inference that it’s not important to the killer that his victims be aware that they were dying, which is a fairly obvious one to make given the lack of restraints.  Then, when they’re discussing it in the lab and cause of death has been determined, he’s able to do more with the information - he’s able to determine the how of the victims’ docile interment and from then it’s a quick series of fairly obvious jumps to who the killer must be.

Finally, the debut of the Ravenstag is the result of the sudden, vivid connection Will’s mind has made from the imagery of the Copycat scene - crows and a stag’s head, a murder and a message.  The Ravenstag will go on to embody the spectre of death, an omen, but also in some ways a guardian.

Intrusion

Hoo boy is this show ever about that, and these episodes certainly do get off to a running start on this theme.

First of all, just about everyone and everything intruding on Will.  There’s Jack in his classroom, there’s Hannibal in Jack’s office and then Will’s motel room, there’s Beverly in Elise Nichols’s room and then again (slightly less unwelcome) at the range, there’s Freddie Being Freddie, and then there’s his hallucinations. 

We explicitly discuss the intrusive nature in which Will experiences his work: 

“Fear is the price of imagination.”

“No forts in the bone arena of your skull for the things you love.”

And then we start to see the basis for Will’s trust in Hannibal start to form has Hannibal backs off in episode 2.  He lets Will roam about the mezzanine of his office (literally circling Hannibal, and part of me wanted to talk about lions because of that and the line with Franklyn, but that felt like stretching a bit too much) while he stays below, gives answers to the questions Will lobs back at him, becomes someone who will push just enough to show concern and interest, but will gracefully retreat into safer waters at the right moment rather than press for ever more.

It’s beautiful and infuriating to me that this is both the truth and the smokescreen for actions that make it also a farce - Will and Hannibal’s relationship is characterized both by a strong, genuine interpersonal courtesy and a staggering degree of intrusion (mostly by Hannibal, though Will has his moments), and these things can and do frequently exist fully side by side.  

The other notable single target of intrusion in these episodes is, of course, Hannibal.

Something I didn’t really consciously grok on my first couple of watchings of Jack and Hannibal’s first scene together is that while Jack is trying to flatter Hannibal rather than intimidate/command (as he was doing with Will), Jack is still being very nearly as pushy and invasive as he was in his first scene with Will: shows up unannounced, assumes Hannibal will make time for him without stating his purpose in being there (I love how visibly taken-aback he is when Hannibal tells him to wait in the damn waiting room), then wanders around Hannibal’s office and messes with his drawings while casually talking about Hannibal’s personal history before he ever gets around to The Point.  Yes, Hannibal’s eventually pleased as punch with the results of that visit, but Jack’s behavior is what it is. 

Then there’s Freddie (oh, Freddie), who will continue to be a wildly intrusive presence in his life over the next few years in various ways.  And then there’s Will, himself, pushing back when Hannibal asks questions in their office sessions - and who will ultimately be The One True Intrusion, the destabilizing element that will cause Hannibal to tear his life as he knows it to the ground.  

There are other ways this theme can be discussed in the context of these two episodes, but I’ve hit the main points I meant to and this has gotten lengthy enough already!

(Below the cut, for your potential amusement, a smattering of my notes from rewatching that didn’t necessarily make it into this.)

JACK DON'T TOUCH PEOPLE'S GLASSES

I will never get over the irony of "You have to convince yourself that the lion is not in the room.  When it is I assure you, you will know."

pURe EMpatHY

ahh yes, the Teleporting Cannibal Episode

"I'd rather not take it from you" - have to wonder how much Freddie remembered that statement later, as she was starting to wonder if Hannibal might be killing with Will

And here's our first mention of God enjoying killing.

[oceanmonsters]

the problem with Tall Girl

this turned into more than an essay than I was expecting so get comfy:

Look, I get it, I know I’m a short bitch so I don’t know what it’s like to be tall etc. etc. and I’m sure there are a lot of tall girls who do / have felt insecure about their height, and maybe there are even girls who’ve faced problems similar to those in the movie. But this movie... I had so many problems with it, from the plot to the cast to the writing.

First off, the premise: a movie about a tall girl who gets picked on and harassed for her height trying to find love. On the surface, doesn’t seem too bad. And I’m not gonna deny that the main characters life isn’t harder because she’s tall than it would’ve been if she was short. But here’s the thing: tall women aren’t insulted considered less attractive for being outside what’s considered normal (if it was about that, tall guys would face the same thing) - it’s specifically about not being considered feminine enough, or rather conforming to the standard that women are supposed to be smaller and more petite than men. Jodi, however is played by a blond, cis, white girl who conforms to typical female beauty standards in pretty much every way other than being taller than average. And I’m not saying that her height or any problems she may faces because of it are invalidated by those things, but in the movie it’s like all of the rest of those things are invalidated on account of her height. WOC (especially black women) are far far far more likely to face adversity for not looking “feminine” enough and for years have been insulted and degraded for looking “masculine” - being too hairy or too tall or too large or our features not fitting eurocentric female beauty standards. The same point stands for trans women and even more so for trans woc. So while I’m not saying the kind of situation in the movie could never ever happen in real life, the fact that they’re making a movie about overcoming adversity faced due to not conforming to female beauty standards and making a thin, cis, white girl out to be the one facing the most adversity with the woc in the story either bullying the protag for not conforming to those standards or being the best friend who defends and supports the protagonist is pretty tone deaf. This isn’t just a normal movie situation where I think that it would’ve been nice for it to be more diverse or have a main character of colour - the premise would make much so much more sense with, for example, a tall black girl or trans girl at the lead because they’re so much more likely to face the problems faced by the main character in this movie.

Those were all thoughts I had even before the movie even came out, just from watching the trailer and reading the description. I tried to go into the movie with an open mind, thinking it would maybe exceed my expectations and I was being too harsh based on two minute trailer. However, almost straight off the bat the movie really tested my good intentions. Less than 5 minutes into the movie, Jodi is narrating how hard her childhood. And I could sympathise with her - children can be cruel and it can be tough to stick out like that in such an obvious way. I don’t doubt her childhood was harder on account of her height. But any goodwill is immediately destroyed by Jodi asking the audience “You think your life is hard?” and challenging them to “beat” her struggle. Because yes, while I’ll admit being tall has probably made her life harder up until this point, she’s still a straight, cis, rich white girl! Her height doesn’t make it harder for her to get a job or make her more likely to lose her job or to be the victim of a hate crime or be murdered by the police. And yet she still thinks her life is harder than anyone else in the school - where her main problem is apparently being asked “How’s the weather up there?” constantly. Jodi’s friend Fareeda even completely goes off at some random guy for saying it to her. Is it annoying to be asked that, constantly? Yes, probably. But the movie treats it as if it’s literally a slur. The movie constantly goes on about the “adversity” Jodi faces, but other than being picked on by one other girl (who is an asshole to Jodi and only Jodi for seemingly no reason whatsoever other than that she’s a Mean Girl) the “How’s the weather up there?” comments are literally the only “adversity” she ever faces over the course of the movie. Apart from said mean girl, there’s no one else making mean comments or laughing at her behind her back - she’s largely ignored by her peers. By teen movie standards, she’s not even receiving the typical treatment faced by the unpopular and bullied protagonists - no one’s spreading rumours about her or trying to ruin her life or throwing slushies at her or really harassing her in any way. But the movie still tries to push the narrative of Jodi facing so much adversity. There’s a part in the movie where Jodi’s mom tells her she has to stand strong in the face of adversity, and starts talking about all the problems she faced in high school for being so beautiful and popular - for example that she once had 10 guys ask her to a dance. Jodi looks completely incredulous that her mom considers this adversity and emphatically responds “No, it doesn’t.” when she’s asked if it is. The screenwriter somehow fails to see the irony in the fact that Josie herself is shown interest in by three different guys over the course of the movie (yet still continues to lament throughout the movie that “tall girls don’t get happy endings” and that all people see is her height and not her or something along those lines). This scene is so lacking in self awareness about the movie it’s in that it’s almost a metaphor for me watching the movie - me as Jodi, watching the movie and thinking “She really thinks THIS is adversity?” Another thing the movie seems to fail to consider is that Jodi’s problems are very much limited to high school. Yes, some people are assholes to her and she feels insecure but that’s definitely not a unique experience in high school. And once she actually moves into adulthood and the real world, she’s not really gonna face the same issues. As I said earlier, her height is not going to make it harder for her to get a job or make her more likely to lose her job or to be the victim of a hate crime or be murdered by the police, whereas these are issues that POC and LGBT people may have to deal with for the rest of their lives. The only way that being tall is going to significantly affect the rest of her life is in dating & finding a romantic partner, but even within the movie her height clearly doesn’t hold her back that much because 3 GUYS pursue her over the course of the movie.

While I do think the premise was bland anyway, the movie could’ve been somewhat enjoyable if they stopped trying to convince us and shoving down our throats that Jodi’s life is harder than everyone else’s and actually made the issue to be Jodi’s own insecurities and shown her overcoming those, instead - and maybe they would’ve had more time to actually focus on developing the relationship between the eventual endgame couple.

I was really hoping at some point there would be a scene where Jodi is being self-pitying and Fareeda (or hell, even Kimmy) were to sit her down and say “Look, I know you have problems, I know some people have been assholes to you because you were an easy target to make fun of for being different but you’re still a rich abled conventionally attractive cis white girl. I’m not saying your life hasn’t been more difficult because of your height, but it doesn’t make your life more difficult than everyone else’s,” and then maybe made a point about the adversity they face as WOC. I was so expecting Fareeda to do something like this in the bathroom scene but all she does is try to be Jodi’s emotional support which Jodi is ungrateful for. Which brings us up to the last point of how badly the characters of colour are treated in this movie. Fareeda is literally a walking “angry black girl”+”sassy supportive black friend” stereotype. Her only purposes in the plot are to go off at people when Jodi’s being “harassed”, support and uplift Jodi constantly even though she’s completely ungrateful, and be her friends’ dumping ground for their emotional problems. We literally know nothing about her other than this. She only exists to support the white characters. Kimmy, once again, is a one dimensional stereotype. She’s basically a caricature of a movie Mean Girl, with absolutely no reason given to why she’s such an asshole to Jodi. She’s not shown being a dick to anyone else, she’s not shown to be the queen bee of the school trying to consolidate her power, she’s just a pretty girl who apparently only has two interests - hating Kimmy for literally no reason, and being crowned homecoming queen. Her only purpose in the plot is as a device to prevent Stig from being with Kimmy. In fact, that’s the only purpose of the remaining two characters of colour as well - as romantic obstructions to create drama in the central white love triangle. There’s literally a scene where each white character (Stig, Jodi, Jack) is kissing their respective love interest (who each happen to be POC) but are distracted by / looking at each other instead of their love interests. They have no character or development or anything beyond being eventually rejected love interests to the white people. The only thing we know about Liz is that she’s gluten free, but the only reason for that is for her to have something in common with Jack. The school they go to looks very diverse - a lot of the extras & background characters are POC which imo just makes the movie worse because they’re making Jodi out to be the poor girl who’s life is harder than everybody else’s while all the people making fun of her & making her life difficult are POC. Literally all the people in the movie who ask her how the weather is up there are black. Most of the girls laughing at her while Kimmy makes fun of her are WOC. It was like they wanted the movie to look diverse for woke points but didn’t actually bother to have any of the characters of colour be developed or have any complexity or actually be relevant to the plot other than to obstruct the white romances and help the white people realise what they really want. They literally only existed as plot devices, not as people. And yes, Stig’s only purpose was to have Jodi realise her worth and that Jack was the right person for her but his character has some kind of emotional depth and character arc. He’s given a motivation and reason behind his actions - he likes being the popular kid and he lets it get to his head. Nothing of the kind is afforded to Kimmy or Schnipper.

I think the worst thing about this movie is how inoffensive it seems on the surface. It’s racially diverse, it’s about a girl overcoming her insecurities and learning to lover herself, what could be the problem? Which is why I don’t necessarily blame people for missing how shitty it actually is beneath the surface. But what I definitely don’t appreciate is (white) people insisting that the people who are rightfully pointing out this movie’s flaws are just being mean or bitter or being “discriminative” for “hating on the movie just because the main character is white” when that’s just so far from the actual point. I think the moral of the story is that it’s not enough to just think critically about the media you’re consuming, sometimes people need to actually listen to marginalised people when we’re telling them that something is not okay and not just insists that we’re being mean for no reason and then maybe we can avoid more movies like this in the future.

[queernuck]

What To Do In November: On The Critique of Pornography

Recognition of the origin of a critique, what the genealogical structure of surrounding ideological and epistemic claims imply about it, and how exactly to draw that out and oppose it to the intended reading of a critique is a process which cannot be neglected when discussing contentious issues. it is so often neglected when it should be heavily involved in enacting important acts of critical inquiry, as the content of critique and the arrangement thereof can function as part of a series of binary-machines, a series of machines through which the critique flows such that the enacting or appropriation of potentially fascist or despotic structures of critique will lead to an eventual stoppage of any liberatory potential, a kind of replication of a certain desire. When this is a discussion of doubled-desire, desiring-desire in relation to desiring-repression as a fascist ideological position, the means by which sexual desire is itself restructured into apparently-neutered flows of resignification which in turn become sexual through invocation of a phallic lack, the care with which one’s critique is offered and redoubled, what exactly one discusses regarding it is a highly important matter of contention.

The paradigm of deviancy, degeneracy, the means by which it is named and aestheticized, how that aesthetic function is used to signify a specific sort of unwellness, a certain and rather particular framework for looking at structures of power and flows of desire, makes it such that the implications of one’s desire, decision to apply a certain framework, raises questions about exactly what surrounding suppositions are also implied specifically because of what languages “degeneracy” finds itself most comfortable within. Certainly there is the relatively symbolic, perhaps even masturbatory pride-in-degeneracy most associated with anarchists, and its reactionary mirroring in the National-Anarchist or “Apolitical Anarchist” irony wherein either a black metal Paganism or Satanism is used to describe a hedonistic-but-not-degenerate series of becomings, or the mirroring in various sanctimonious politics of the body and sanctification thereof, anarchist or not, which ascribe these tendencies to authority and sees a control of self-in-self, becoming-unlike-others as the most anarchist of acts. Regardless, there are singularities around behavior and its realization, the intensity of identity and exertion, but “degeneracy” is a term most associated with fascist vocabularies, and for good reason. 

Degeneracy as a paradigm is particularly associated with repression-desiring, with a certain sort of limitation of desire only possible through the desiring, inviting of such a turn, the necessity of mapping that turn onto one’s potential for the body. Thus, one enters into a fetishistic relationship with degeneracy, as seen with the fascist concepts of degenerate art, or degenerate sexuality, or degenerate lack-of-morality. Indeed, the relationship between sexuality and art is one which is found in the sort of ironic return that conspiracy theories regarding the porn industry and antisemitic tropes about porn (and Hollywood) frequently return to: scholarly work has been produced on the way that various figures in the creation of the porn industry as-such were Jewish, and to deny this would be to deny the wrong aspect of the conspiratorial thinking. In large part as an extension and repetition of the influences that lead to Jewish presence in filmmaking in the US at the beginnings of the Hollywood era, the respectability of the industry was low, as were the overheads, leading to decent profit margins and when technical knowledges, techniques and Virtual spaces of creation were carried over in filmmaking, that pornographic films were made with little distance from other movies of the time is hardly surprising. 

However, and this is an incredibly important distinction, the way that even this acknowledgement is resignified as a kind of kernel of truth, as a means of “redpilling” those who will eventually turn toward conspiracy, and an acceptance of the outright conspiracy predicated on this initial rejection. The turn occurs later on, once a kind of barrier has been passed, as with the sort of conspiratorial thinking that leads one to read within Behold A Pale Horse for a sort of foolish socialism which claims that the Protocols of the Elders of Zion are in fact a genuine document, simply a misattributed one: this lures in those who have an obvious and meaningful interest in anticapitalist critique due to the means by which the conspiratorial structure is mapped onto ongoing imperialist violence, but from there, one eventually turns and reveals that in fact, the conspiratorial turn that was originally rejected is the more genuine one, that it is in fact the genuinely held belief at the core of the claim. Similarly, discussions of “pedophile rings” that turn to “satanic cults” are ones where the same process endures: once a certain level of commitment is sustained, once one has shown sufficient buy-in to the structure which has been named as such, it is then revealed that this is simply a stand-in for pedophilic blood libel, as seen with much of the discussion surrounding the death of Jeffrey Epstein. Without the contextualization of not only the notion that his death is suspicious (and that he very well may not have committed suicide) the notion that, regardless of his suicide there were likely very rich people with some stake in his death is one which on its face is unobjectionable simply because of how rich he was, how his wealth was used to create a terrifying sort of power, and the desire (flowing through fascist machines of resignification) to believe that it is not simply accumulation that allowed him to exert this kind of power, that there must have been some sort of organ through which it was conducted.

This refusal, the refusal to believe that in fact capitalist violence can account for a great deal of the violence raised with any of these critiques, leads to the means by which fascist appropriations of the discourses surrounding sexual expression, “degeneracy”, pornography, trans and LGBT identities, and kink are restructured into a demarcation of a profoundly violently restricted body. To recognize that “kink” is a relative structure, relative subject, one needs only to look at how trans women most generally have sex: that is, pornographically, outside themselves, for the benefit of men, as an extension of pornographic bodies of work and pornographic restructuring of the body such that becoming-woman and becoming-trans is a new sort of transition from one violently marked body into another, both sharing the structural position of “failed masculinity” and the same kinds of spaces as gay and bisexual men in relation to certain kinds of kink, and to submissive or fetishizingly dominant women in others. There are certain acts of humiliation and appropriation of the body for oneself going on in most acts of interaction with trans women that one sees. This is specifically because of how trans women are so rarely depicted outside of the pornographic, and how as a result trans women are drawn in a sense toward embodying the pornographic in order to make themselves intelligible by at least some fashion. If by nothing else, then, the pornographic stands as an example of what one can become. 

This is true as well for many gay men, for lesbians, is true along lines of race and most of all is the sort of critical violence, ideological fetishization that is misunderstood by critical reactions to kink and pornography. Instead, many follow specific genealogies of radical feminist thought which follow from a notion that heterosexual sex is still the only moral sort, but that this too must be excluded, and as a result either only approximations of sex made sexless (the sexless and neutered top and bottom, the sort of ideation of a never-present ever-rigid “butch and femme” scene that some radfems seem to think they fit into) or a genine sexlessness is offered as identity. So often, there is no room for sex to be made meaningful, beautiful, for sex that is not “kink” to be discussed specifically because all gay sex is already a priori a sort of kink, a subgenre on a porn website intended to steer white men away from investment in fascist structures of reproductive labor.

The structuring of a kind of false division between being against fascist ideation of "degeneracy" around masturbation and porn, and supporting businesses like PornHub or xHamster is one that has cropped up in response to the successful liberal signification of “wokeness” by such companies, alongside the revelation of exactly how these sites operate, means that the rift created by reactionary positions is ever deeper, ever more obvious, ever more important. When speaking of these companies, some will mention various marketing gimmicks, such as planting trees or plowing roads, intended to specifically juxtapose the ill repute of the porn industry with the apparent good of the deed. There is an irony there, and it is what is relied upon for the PR stunt to function as such. However, at the same time it has recently been confirmed that both of the aforementioned companies have been involved in specifically coercing nonconsensual performances from women lured in with “modeling” gigs and pushed toward taking part in sex acts, which are then spread with the intent of associating them with them in a fashion that is difficult to break. These women are trafficked, abused, and xHamster, PornHub, along with other popular porn websites profit off of trafficking, and affirming this, affirming that they are not part of a harmless industry but rather that there is a definite, sexualized, violent element is obviously important. 

In an attempt to distract from this, xHamster may discuss the right-wing Manosphere roots of “No Nut November”, both playing on its business model and lessening the seriousness of its own support of sexual violence. In turn, the right pushes back not on its own terms, but rather by couching its response in ambiguity, disguising that this is indeed a right-wing offering. But making it such that the right wing ideology at hand has a monopoly on the ideological framing makes it so that when one begins to critique it, there are continuous implications of antisemitic conspiracies, homophobia, race replacement theories, and other acts supporting an ideology which is not developed from a genuine act of caring about the women harmed by porn and trafficking for it beyond some sort of nebulous invocation of them for white dudes and their virility. The prevalence of “cuck” as an insult is itself tied to this: it is highly racialized, as is most cuckold pornography, and in turn is linked to “breeding” as a fetish, which itself is a kind of libidinal acting-out of the replacement anxiety that fascist desire operates on. It has created a language of its own to speak to itself, to create a representation of the very fantasies it fears. In turn, it then accuses its enemies of creating this in order to act in favor of indoctrination, to act as if the way in which these desires have been cultivated has nothing to do with reactionaries’ own languages of desire.

Reactionaries have been allowed to dominate critique of porn for so long that it seems natural to allow them to continue to dominate it, rather than to question that dominance, to realize that xHamster is happy to support genuinely harmful practices and pretend to make them "woke" with the help of "leftists" who either buy into them outright or let reactionary ideology go unchecked so that the material conditions at hand are not critiqued, just renamed in a fascist vocabulary. Similarly, when offering a critique of the porn industry, sex work, or the means by which criminalization and violence are inextricably tied to these, the way in which the very concept of the carceral is invoked within (and then sexualized by) this discussion contributes to the referencing of certain anxieties as desires: trans women are degenerates, pornsick, cumbrained, are only possible as kinks, in inherently sexual existences. By extension of eliminating these other supposed-pornographic experiences, trans women too much be exterminated, along with gay men, along with lesbians, along with gender nonconformity that does not itself restructure a certain acceptable heterosexuality. 

Effectively, the means by which antisemitic theories on the origins of sexuality and pornography become repeated in mainstream discussions contributes to an eventual willingness to accept fascist demarcations of how “degenerates” are to be marked, to be treated, and most of all to refuse to meaningfully examine why kink may be harmful, but additionally to accept that difference insofar as it is strange rather than based in drawing out and emphasizing a desire for repression, is perhaps not as horrifying as it is made out to be. Being clear, being open, and most of all affirming that the antisemitic, homophobic, racist ideological forebearers of a given insight are condemned, and that one does not link the machines of critique to these bodies, to fascist embodiments of opposition to degeneracy, means a genuine turn toward caring about women, about those harmed by pornography, about how this fits into capitalist accumulation and in turn how sexual lives are one part of the many sorts of lives and acts of living commodified and made into discrete, purchased and resold and resignified sorts of concept-objects, products of experience to be played with.

[rhysnrivers]

Odyssey to becoming a Published Author

(Note: with Odyssey being in the title, this is quite a long post.  The link to the facebook page that leads to where my novel can be bought from can be found at the bottom of the post, as can some of the initial artwork done)

So, despite never been a ‘blogger’ per se before, I’ve decided to write this article about my journey from having dreamed about writing and having my own works published, through to actually writing my ideas up and publishing them myself, as I’m sure that there are many an indie author and authoress out there who can relate and have been through the very same journey I have.

First thing’s first.  Rhys N Rivers is not my real name.  It’s a pen name.  There’s something in being anonymous when it comes to writing, almost like a sense of freedom.  This day and age of social media means that almost everything we do is recorded somewhere on the internet, and an opinion or action from ten years ago can be drudged back up to be ridiculed by the Facebook jury and/or the Karens of the internet, in line with the fashionable opinions of the day.  A pen name grants anonymity and to some degree, security.  The only people who know my identity are my immediate family and a few close, trusted friends.

When people embark on a new venture; be it a new hobby, learning a new language, travelling the world, changing jobs etc, the journey actually begins long before said venture starts.  Quite often, the journey always begins in the classroom, at home, in bed, in daydreams.  It begins as a state of ambition.  A plan that one day, will be put into action.

My authoring journey was no different.  Mine actually began around the age of eleven.  I was of the Harry Potter generation where I was the same age as the main characters in the early years when a new film came out each year.  J.K. Rowling got me into reading beyond in school, and I - being one of the cool kids, clearly - read a lot throughout my early and mid teenage years.  It was admittedly predominantly fantasy based, (Tolkien, Pratchett, Philip Pullman, Garth Nix) or Bernard Cornwall’s historical works before I branched out into people like Wilbur Smith and others.  When I was around 14 or 15, Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code took the world by storm and I also ended up reading all of his works. School provided a sophisticated reading list, which included Dickens and Golding, and so growing I had read through a rich and broad variety of fiction.

Where actually writing was concerned, I think it was about the age of eleven or twelve that I realised that I wanted to write properly.  I think it was actually after reading William Nicholson’s Wind Singer when I decided, and I set to task in writing coming up with a fantasy novel.  I didn’t start writing the plot straight away; I actually started coming up with characters and places, even drawing out a world map.  That was really fun to do.  It had a sense of total control to it.  What I decided was what things were.  Where a kid may not feel in control of things in other parts of life (insecurities of school, friends, growing up, relationships etc), this was something totally different.  The ability to create your own fictional world, in whatever genre you go for, is a form of escape and release in which you can develop your talents and ideas.  

There were lots of elements to what I was planning out - which included ideas from Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Legend of Zelda, The Wind on Fire among others.  To be honest, I’m actually glad that ‘project’ didn’t get very far.  Poor Christopher Paolini, the author of the Inheritance Cycle quadrilogy of books, was slated by certain groups and reviewers for his alleged lack of originality and using of ideas from other stories.  In Paolini’s defence, he was only fifteen when his first book was published, which is something that most fifteen year olds don’t achieve!  But I think that had I completed mine, it might have faced the same criticisms - not necessarily from reviewers or publishers, but perhaps friends and family reading through it first.

School, in particular, provided me with a lot of enthusiasm and inspiration to write (clearly, I was one of the cool kids).  My GCSE English teacher was a great bloke (probably still is) and gave great, honest and constructive feedback to the entire class’ work.  Our first piece of English Literature coursework was a piece on creative writing and I elected to do a piece on the topic of an opening chapter/opening chapters to a novel.  Having just read Dan Brown I did my piece in his sort of style: bloke copping it at the start, trying to prevent some conspiracy from going ahead, then the reluctant hero of the story gets dragged in to solving it.  My piece didn’t revolve around religious groups or secret societies, but around a historical artefact.

Out of 54 marks, this scored 52.  I was more than happy with that.  I had no idea where the story was going to go but I was determined that I would one day finish the story.  To this day, I still have no idea where the story is going, but I am certain that it will be the last novel of a set of three, dragging the main character, a desperately-can’t-wait-to-retire detective, through painstaking research, learning about history that he wouldn’t usually be arsed about and running away from people, of whom he’s becoming more and more of an embuggerance (word-invention credited to Terry Pratchett) to.

For some reason, I really can’t remember why, but about a year later the option was given to my English class to rewrite that piece of coursework (we were about four out of five coursework pieces done by that time).  I was of course happy with my score but I saw this as an opportunity to try something new and see what ideas could again come spewing from my mind.

This time, again sticking with the opening chapter(s) option, I wrote about a start of a medieval conspiracy, beginning around the Battle of Crécy and going…err…I still have no idea where!  But this piece resonated better than the previous piece, earning full marks from my English teacher, along with the comments “…should come with an 18 rated certificate.”  Again, I vowed that I would complete this story one day and see it published.  This one I think I will try to make into a three-book story.

The summer after completing my GCSE exams I did the normal stuff: went on holiday with family, chilled out with friends, even attended the World Scout Jamboree that year.  But I also by then had a set of ideas in my head that I wanted to turn into novels, and wrote that list onto a computer, and saved it to my USB memory stick.  I have no idea where I last saw that USB stick…

After I left school I joined the British Armed Forces.  I’m not going to write too much about what I did, where I went etc (not because I was part of some uber-top-secret unit, but more-so that it just doesn’t contribute to this post) but my priorities changed.  I read a lot less and writing properly in the near term future just was not a possibility, or something that I wanted to concentrate on at that time.

In early 2017 I was considering a career change, and during that time I joined fanstory.com, under my real name.  The purpose of doing this was to put myself into an environment with other amateur writers, gain inspiration from other budding authors (and hopefully give some inspiration back), and be in a place where my works could be read among ‘peers’, giving me a good steer on things.

It was on this website where my first novel, Payment, was conceived.  There was a competition going for short stories up to 7000 words long in the horror genre (“Put your readers on edge or terrorize them”) and so I thought this was a good place to test out to see what people think and to  develop my writing style.

It took me a couple of weeks to put Payment together and submit it.  I had never considered writing horror before but this, again, was an ample opportunity to try something new and see what I could come up with.  I decided to go with a 19th Century narrative; much like Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker.  I prefer to think or the horror genre as the old neo-gothic styles of writing - the old ghost stories.  Horror, in recent years, both in writing and film-making, has taken more of a gore and shock factor turn.  Personally, I think that will turn horror more into the thriller genre.  To me, horror should be about ghosts, vampires, witches - the occult and the supernatural.  And that’s that I have tried to achieve with Payment. 

What surprised me the most during the writing of this were my decisions to use the first-person narrative - something I used to despise growing up, and the use of a one-word title.  For some reason it used to bug me no end that it was becoming more and more common that artistic projects, be they novels, films, dance, visual art etc, would use one-worded titles.  I used to think that was a cop-out.  But here I am with Payment - a novel told in first-person narrative…

I have always thought that my writing style was/is closest to Terry Pratchett’s.  I’ve never tried to emulate him but his style of using irony, dry humour and satire, whilst also plummeting to some very deep philosophical ideas.  But I couldn’t do that whilst writing Payment.  The thing is with writing horror, is that you have to be able to maintain that macabre atmosphere all the through.  That actually isn’t easy.  I found there always has to be a sense of the character’s isolation, a sense of doom and gloom, and a sense of something about to happen.  

I didn’t win the completion that I entered.  I don’t think it even made the top three.  The votes are cast by the other entries’ writers and maybe a few other people.  I can’t remember if you could vote for your own project but I think you could.  The entries placed above mine, although I thought their storylines familiar with ideas already done, were admittedly much easier to read than my entry.  A 19th century style of writing will always lose to simplicity when people have a number of works to read.

But that didn’t deter me.  I’d created a fictional work and was determined to show it to the world.  I didn’t go ahead with the career change at that point but decided to fully review Payment, at get it out there as a completed project.

Fanstory is a good platform, it really is.  I’m not sure why, but after only a couple of months and having written a few competition entries, I came to stop writing on it.  My old job was getting in the way and to be honest, I was getting impatient with writing on it.  I had the mentality that I wanted to be published right now sort of thing.

A couple of years later, I did go ahead in a change of direction career-wise.  This provided the opportunity to fully revise Payment and make it into a ‘novelette’, more than 7000/7500 words but fewer than 17,500.  I would then prepare it for editing, get the artwork sorted and then publish it online for maybe a couple of quid.

I was actually in Tanzania at the time when I thought that Payment had been expanded enough to put out as a novelette.  Once I’d finished writing, I showed it to a couple of the volunteers I was working with and they both enjoyed it.  Although I was pleased about that, I still wasn’t satisfied with it.  I had touched on quite a few themes in the work but I don’t feel like I had explored them all as much as I could have.  Although complete, it felt very much incomplete.  At the same time I wanted to expand the work into a full novel and also I didn’t - mainly because of the challenge of maintaining that horror atmosphere.

I decided that, in order to put more meat onto the bones and develop this short story/novelette into a full length novel, I needed a goal to work towards; something that has an end achievement that will make me work to expand on what I had already done.  And so I set about looking for horror writing groups and/or competitions on the internet. 

In not much time at all I came across the Horror Writers Association (HWA).  They are a group that cater for all things horror and occult in fiction.  There, you can advertise your works, read or recommend other people’s works and learn about events - namely the StokerCon.

But what attracted me to them the most was their sponsorship of the Bram Stoker Awards (“for Superior Achievement”).  These are awards that are given out to authors and authoresses who have had their works judged in certain categories.  The one that has caught my eye is the ‘First Novel’ category.  A quick reading of the rules informed me of the minimal word limit:  40,00 words.  Perfect.  There’s something to work towards, with a chance at winning what is described as ‘the Oscars of horror writing’.  When I returned from Africa I set about the task of bolstering a 17,000-ish novelette into a 40,000 word minimum horror novel!

I have read Edgar Allan Poe in the past, and even bits of Mary Shelley.  For more inspiration in keeping that spooky, Neo-Gothic atmosphere, I read some parts of Bram Stoker and H.P. Lovecraft.  Despite all of that, I initially found it difficult to write again on the same piece of work that I started almost three years previously.  It was only after reading Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black, where I became inspired by her power of description to turn chapters, paragraphs and sentences that belong in quick short stories to ones suitable for a long read.

In January, this  year, I had finally finished.  I expanded heavily on the ideas that I was before concerned that I was rushing through and before I knew it, my word count was well over the 40,000 words I wanted to achieve!  I read it all again myself, edited out any spelling or grammar mistakes that I had seen, and sent it out to beta testers (readers) for opinions and editing.

Following the last edit - of which there wasn’t relatively much to do - my debut novel stands at a word count of 53,850 words!  That isn’t considered very long by today’s standards.  To give a point of reference, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone is estimated to be around 77,000 words long (depending on who is doing the word count).  But my novel is longer than The Woman in Black as well as other novels such as The Great Gatsby and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and considering it came from a short story of 7,000 words I am still happy with it.

Concurrently with writing the novel came the task of finding an artist/illustrator for the cover.  That was a more difficult task than I expected.

Not only did I want to find someone who could create a suitable cover, I also wanted that someone to be able to do ‘scene art’; by which I mean a picture at the start of certain chapters.  The reason for this is that I see a completed novel itself as a form of art, and scene pictures add to that completed projected.  In fact, I actually wanted a sort of teamwork between the writing/art found in the Edge Chronicles books by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell.  

I combed Facebook for a very long time, joining all sorts of groups and pages for amateur artists to show off their works, hoping to find someone who I thought was suitable for my work.  To my dismay, there was very little, I thought, that I could go off.

Around October time I put an advert on a freelancing work website, just for an idea of who else is out there and possibly able to take this up.  I did receive a fair few responses but, again, there wasn’t really anyone whose work suited what I was after.  A couple of them, one of them being an art company based in Central Asia, actually got quite nasty about it.  They were expectant 

It was when I was on a course in Spain that it was suggested to me to look on Reddit, as Reddit “literally has everything on it.”  I had never actually been a proper Reddit user before; I’d clicked the odd link from Facebook but had never really interacted with it before. 

The guy who suggested Reddit to me was right - Reddit has literally everything on it.  There’s so much information to be found on so many topics it seemed unlikely that I wouldn’t find what I was looking for on it, and so I combed through a few sub-reddits dedicated to (freelance) artists and checked some of them out.

So I once again posted out an advert looking for artists and this time the response were much more positive, and enthusiastic!  It really was quite uplifting to see and hear from so many people who were interested in taking up the project and I received so many messages.  Everyone who commented on the post and/or messaged me with links to their portfolios, I checked out their work.  I honestly don’t think there was a single person whose works of art that I wasn’t impressed by.  There is so much that can be found at deviantart.com and artstation.com and so much talent to be viewed and be in awe at!  Everyone who directly messaged me got a return thanking them.

One of the people I got talking to was a young lad from Sweden called Daniel Percy, whose artwork I also checked out.  My preferences came down to him and another guy from Germany, and after speaking with Daniel he agreed to take on the work.

Daniel does a lot of freelance art work, predominately doing concept art work for electronics companies (I want to say video games but don’t take that as gospel), but he still found the time to do this properly, compiling several drafts of the cover and inside sketches.  We collaborated quite often on what to change, ideas to put in etc.

The finished artwork is incredible!  I’m showing some of the initial first-sketch ideas here along with the final book cover, along with a couple of since-altered scene pictures, just for an idea of his talent.  You’ll have to buy the book to see all of the finished sketches ;)

And the final thing to think/worry/mull over until stupid o’ clock in the morning, was the publishing aspect.  Luckily, ever since I’ve thought about writing (as an adult), it has become increasingly easier to get your works out there.  The rise of the internet and social media age has made self publishing so much more accessible, and that is the route I have gone down.

At first, I wanted to go down the traditional printing route.  I - again showing cool I was as a kid - always liked the idea of a fresh and printed book in my hands.  But, there are two reasons why I haven’t done this:

The first one is environmental.  Even before the climate change debate became a fashionable thing to signal your virtues about, I was uncomfortable about the idea of trees being cut down for my creation, unless I could be 100% certain that exact same area would be immediately replanted.  It’s true, there are forested areas specifically for this kind of thing but the amount of bureaucracy involved, along with the middle-men, wouldn’t make it an immediate thing.

The second reason is that the majority of writers who send their works in get rejected by so many publishers.  Yes, people refer to J.K. Rowling’s story of being rejected twelve times (and again later by one of the same publishers when she first wrote as Robert Galbraith) before Harry Potter became a hit, but as the option of the internet is there, it makes sense to negate that possible rejection.  In the event that my works do get noticed and attract the attention of publishers, then great!  But if they don’t, at least by online publishing, I’ve still achieved putting my novel out to the world.

Finally, today, Friday the 13th (intentionally - it is a horror novel after all ;p ) of March 2020, I officially became a published author.  It is a fantastic, monumental feeling.  My story, my novel, my creation, is out there for people to buy, read and hopefully, enjoy.

If there’s any advice that I can give for anyone aspiring to be an (indie) author, it is this: just write your ideas down.  Sounds simple, if not downright obvious, but it really is incredible that so many people don’t achieve their dreams or aspirations simply because they don’t do them.  The world of authoring and indie writing is so much more accessible now than it was even fifteen years ago, that is takes a great lot of effort not to find at least one platform to get your works out onto.

It is also incredibly easy to find every excuse in the book to not write at all.  School, work, family etc, being the big ones, and they are legitimate reasons.  But they are only obstacles themselves to an extent, before you yourself make them obstacles.  Start small.  Set yourself half an hour on an evening.  No more, no less.  Half an hour to start getting your ideas onto paper and then after a week, you’ve spent three and a half hours writing.  You’d be surprised at how much you’ve achieved after three and a half hours of concentrated effort.

If you need motivation, there are plenty of people out there, particularly on the internet, who give great examples of motivation that apply to all disciplines.  Joe Rogan, for just one example, has plenty of people on his podcasts who talk and give advice on self-betterment, and it can apply to anybody.  If you want to write, you will find the time and means to do it.  It doesn’t matter how long it takes; everybody finds their ways at different times. 

As to my next works, what am I going to be writing next?  Well, shortly after writing Payment as a short story I thought of another idea to write about, and use that particular project to actually develop my writing style.  This next one, of which the first ‘act’ as such does already have a skeleton outline to it, is a light hearted yet philosophical at times medieval adventure, combining humour and seriousness together.  I’m not going to divulge ay more information the storyline because, although it’s a simple idea, I believe it’s one that no-one’s done before and some smart-arse with more time on their hands than I can easily bash something together using my idea!

The school coursework pieces?  They are still on my ideas list and will no doubt be developed into their own proper projects and they hopefully will also be published just as Payment is!  The fantasy that I started aged eleven?  Absolutely no idea.  Whilst I would certainly like to do fantasy, going for originality is going to be difficult, as the standard format (young hero finds out he’s the ‘chosen one’ and goes on a long quest) has been done to death, as have a lot of fantasy ideas already.  George R R Martin had the idea of using the idea of old English houses warring against other in the past, and that was used to great effect even before he threw in the ice zombies!  So that one is going to be a case of properly allocating some time to sit down, think and decide how I’m going to go about, but make no mistake, I will go about it!

Thank you all for taking the time to read through this!  I hope its provided at least some entertainment or light (ha!) reading, and I hope you’ll feel interested to buy my debut novel!

My Facebook page can be found at:  

https://m.facebook.com/Rhys-N-Rivers-Writing-101015961412385/?ref=bookmarks

All the places where Payment can be bought from can be found there.  I thought it better to post one central link than the individual ones.

[maltedmilkchocolate]

I finally watched Mortal Engines, and I wanted sooo badly to like the film. I loved the books so much and I was so excited to see this come to life. And... the visual effects and animation?? GORGEOUS. How they rushed through the plot points, re-ordered plot points, cut out plot points, re-wrote the end entirely so they would have a ‘closed story’ to avoid a sequal... I’m really heartbroken.

I’m questioning so many of the choices made by the director. There were so many avenues to link those important pieces of plot, AND keep the emotional beats that were... ironically, for a story about traction cities, *gutted* from the story. They glazed over Shrike and Hesters relationship. They really exoticised/tokenised/fantasized the east, where the books presented them very differently. So much of the emotional gravity was lost in so many scenes because they were so rushed, or they jumped far too quickly, and in some cases they switched the plot points in a different order which had me vastly confused. They never built up the shifting power heirachy of London as well as they could have, and they never showed the war between the engineers and historians. There was never an actual moment where they showed the *good* people in London, the people in the lower levels, the average people, the people who were as much a victim to the system as the others they took from different cities. They made London one moniker of the ‘rich empire’ without establishing the working class in poverty, and THEN re-wrote the entire end, to have those ‘average innocent people’ be saved by the ‘average innocent people’ of the wall. Which......... had no narrative connection? They never built up why this was earnt, or deserved. We had NO emotional connection to any of these people. We didn’t know why they were important Tom, just that ‘that’s my home!’ and ‘there are good people on there!’. Were there???? We were NEVER shown them beyond two historians, and we were never given context as to why THEY were important to Tom, which we were in the books. Shrike was repeatedly shown as murder machine that just conveniently kept showing up??? It very rarily ever tried to justify HOW he showed up. The relationship between him and Hester was literally presented as A FOOT NOTE in the story. “He’s trying to kill me. Also he raised me.” Cool??? I guess???? At no point did you eve show Hester’s CONFLICT over her relationship with him. You just showed her running and scared. And then TACKED ON the last detail, and expected an emotional response? There was no emotional connection until the VERY LAST second where Shrike seemingly died through a random wound. Not even the sword that Tom weilded like in the books, but by a pre-existing injury from an earlier encounter??? Even the reveal of Kit was ... sped over. Glossed over. It lacked any depth to it. The brief exposition in Hester’s backstory wasn’t enough to build up the connection. Shrike could have been removed from the film entirely and it would have made NO difference to the story, which makes for incredibly bad story telling, when he is so INGRAINED in the book and so ESSENTIAL to the story as a whole. Shrike lays the ground work for SO MUCH of the Mortal Engine’s Quartet, and even before it with the prequels. To have his presence so thoroughly reduced in the film to just being... that murderous robot that keeps appearing??? With exposition only when convenient??? It was so unjust. Not to mention Anna Fang. MY GIRL THE INJUSTICE THEY DID TO HER. Her death, whilst ... a shade away from canon, felt so hollow and neglected. It wasn’t given the respect it deserved, even if she did get some nice Drama to compensate. Most frustrating was how she was presented as this leader figure... but it never felt like she was a leader. It just felt like she said orders, and people did those orders. When her team died in the air battle, it didn’t feel like we were losing anyone important to us because there hadn’t been an emotional connection formed with the audience through Anna Fang. AND THEY REMOVED THE ENITRE SHAKESPEAREAN ENDING TRAGEDY. THE WHOLE ENTIRE POETIC IRONY. IN VALENTINE KILLING HIS ‘BELOVED’ DAUGHTER IN THE BLOOD THIRST TO KILL HIS ‘BASTARD’ DAUGHTER. YOU MISSED THE WHOLE SHAKESPEAREAN POINT. THE DRAMATIC IRONIC. THE POETIC JUSTICE. This film was a traction city without a heart. Gutted and empty of the beautiful mechanical engineering that should have held it together and moved it forward. I hope someone picks it up as a TV show in the future and gives it the justice it deserves. We’ll always have the books though.

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars Galaxy’s Edge: A Crash of Fate- Review

Can’t afford to make a trip to Batuu this year or in the near future? Disney and Lucasfilm are here to fix that for you with their young adventure romance adult novel, Star Wars Galaxy’s Edge: A Crash of Fate by Zoraida Córdova.

(Review Contains Minor Spoilers)

Izael Garcia, or Izzy, and Julen Rakab, or Jules, were inseparable as children. The two spent their days climbing the massive spires of Batuu and avoiding the attention of their parents or predators. However, a sudden change in Izzy’s life saw here carried far away by her smuggler parents. Years later, herself a member of the galactic criminal community, Izzy finds herself returning to the planet of her youth on a mysterious mission and reconnecting with a long lost friend.

The decision to make Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge not just a theme park but a depiction of a specific place and time in the history of the saga was an inspired one. Like the best of Star Wars, Batuu as a planet feels lived in and brimming with history, personality, and conflict. Also, in typical Star Wars fashion, there are numerous ways to experience Batuu through well realized media synergy. Batuu breathes and expands across novels, comics, and dynamic attractions. I happen to be one of the many Star Wars fans that likely won’t be stepping into the world of Galaxy’s Edge for quite some time so getting to taste, smell, and see Batuu through story is a strong enough alternative.

This proves to be some of A Crash of Fate’s strengths but also the source of some of its greatest struggles. Zoraida Córdova’s prose sings at describing the diverse and colorful world of Batuu. Izzy and Jules each bring their own views and understandings of the various locations and denizens of Black Spire Outpost and its surroundings and both succeed in bringing this world to life in unique ways to their character. Córdova nails these sensory details and helps to find the small personal quirks to Batuu that make it feel real.

There is, however, a cynical artificiality to it all. A Crash of Fate stumbles its way through various attractions and locales for the Disney Park and it’s hard not to feel the corporate machine spinning away behind the narrative. This isn’t to say that we couldn’t have had a rollicking, encompassing adventure through the streets of the Outpost, but the episodic nature of Córdova’s narrative can’t help but feel like it often pauses to showcase a different shop, ride, or restaurant.

There are also aspects of Batuu that feel limited in their application. While the decision to keep the conflict of the Resistance and First Order as a backdrop and not a focus of the novel is a strong one, A Crash of Fate could have benefited from a longer cast shadow for the war. It is unclear what exactly the First Order’s role is on Batuu. Stormtroopers appear from time to time and boss around the ensemble, but the extent of their authority or their effect on the citizens of Black Spire Outpost is too nebulous to nail down. A miniature fascist rally among disaffected Batuu citizens is haunting and prevalent, but proves to be little more than set dressing.

A Crash of Fate splits its perspective in a dual point of view through Iggy and Jules. As a story of childhood reunion turned into whirlwind love affair, this approach proves affective. Jules and Izzy’s different upbringings and state in life allows for some amusing moments of misunderstanding and irony and Córdova seems to be having the most fun in allowing these two young people the moment to stumble through their awkward and accidental courtship. In a relatable turn, Córdova centers A Crash of Fate around a classic “returning to your roots” story of two friends from childhood rediscovering one another and the world around them with older and more experienced eyes. It’s a smart and sympathetic theme especially for the novel’s target audience.

The difficulty comes in that only half of A Crash of Fate’s central duo seems to be carrying the story. Following her departure from Batuu, Izzy spent years on the fringes of the galaxy learning to prioritize survival and opportunity. A Crash of Fate opens with the end of her previous romantic relationship and the loss of her former crew which leaves Izzy with a jaded and reactionary worldview. The pain of this inciting treachery carries Izzy through A Crash of Fate and quickly becomes the impetus for much of the novel’s conflict. Seeing how Izzy’s more “grown up” worldview interacts with Black Spire Outpost is the most dramatically rich material as it both puts up walls but also opens doors she may have not realized had been unlocked to her.

By contrast, Jules’s uncomplicated, “aw shucks” demeanor fails to intrigue. While Izzy was off scraping by to live, Jules was forming friendships and connections on Batuu with the hopes of eventually flying away himself. While his familiarity with Black Spire and less jaded worldview offer a smart foil for Izzy in her journey, Jules fails to feel like a driving force in the narrative. His story is carried along by Izzy and her vague mission, but it’s never directly complicated by his own wants or actions. It places A Crash of Fate in a tough spot. While the dual perspectives is one of the best aspects of Córdova’s prose, Jules’s relative flatness as a character perhaps advocates that he would have been best experienced solely through Izzy’s eyes.

This is not to say that romance between Izzy and Jules lacks spark or affection. There is a certain sweet satisfaction in seeing these two separated souls find one another once again and while their coupling is clearly inevitable, it doesn’t stop the fun of the journey itself. This is good as the larger conflict doesn’t rear its head until well into the novel’s third act when Izzy’s past truly comes back to muck things up.

As a whole, A Crash of Fate proves passingly entertaining, but disappointingly shallow at the same time. Córdova offers a strong sense of place and crafts a fun young romance particularly from the point of view from its flawed heroine, but this trip to Galaxy’s Edge is a forgettable one. Whether it was a larger corporate mandate preventing the novel from exploring some of the planets nooks and crannies while demanding focus on certain locales or a bland male protagonist, A Crash of Fate feels held down by forces outside its control and sputters to right itself.

Score: C