#its worth stating this was originally cherry's idea

[silverskye13]

Me and @aistandardcherry have been talking about a Bad?Ending?AU where, because Tango never gets help, Tanguish loses his Hermit, and because of the guilt of losing Tango, Welsknight dies and leaves Helsknight as last man standing.

Tanguish, scared and alone and newly ruthless, manages to claw his way to the top of a Thief Guild. Helsknight, undefeated Champion with nothing left to take his anger issues out on, starts to go after this new Thief Lord stirring up trouble.

Shenanigans? Ensue?

[that-aspiring-academic]

English - Final Essay (rough copy)

Hi!! So, I have an Essay due tomorrow for my English course and I need help. I was away sick for the entire week we were doing writing & peer review, and so I’ve been unable to get much done outside my (rather rushed) rough draft. I need to have this in, ideally, by tonight, and by tomorrow evening at the absolute latest. My grade in English is currently my worst and I cannot fail this course if I want to stay in my current program.

The essay is under the cut, it is supposed to be argumentative, there is no word limit but it’s supposed to be a 5 paragraph essay. Would anyone be able to give me some pointers to improve it? I’ve never written an argumentative essay before and the last time I properly wrote an essay was a year ago.

The Failings of the Hero’s Journey:

Why Joseph Cambells work is not as critical as it is made to seem

Joseph Cambell’s ‘The Hero’s Journey’, as well as the associated archetypes, are imperfect and outdated. Though we are taught the Hero’s Journey from elementary school through to highschool (and beyond if your English Lit. professor is particularly spiteful), we are not told to question its many failings, such as its limited applicability, inefficiency in classifying characters, and all-together blandness it brings to a story, and are often made to believe it is the end-all-be-all in determining the worth of a story within public academia.

The Hero’s journey, while applicable to some stories, is not applicable to all. It was based on historical epics and sagas, often which had little to no concept of the ‘anti-hero’ or characters that were morally grey, two concepts that are now beloved by readers across the globe. While it is a functioning tool to compare the Epic of Gilgamesh and Beowulf, both having similar story arcs and being in a similar epic style, it is a lot harder to use it to compare a novel like A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers to Angie Thomas’s Concrete Rose, or to Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow series. These discrepancies don’t simply lie in the realms of modern literature, the concept of The Monomyth, as outlined in Joseph Cambell’s ‘The Hero with a Thousand Faces’ cherry-picks ideas from individual legends while ignoring outliers; it is a lot harder to set the creation story of the Raven and the Clam from Haida mythos to the tune of the hero’s journey then a multi-year, inscribed epic, but it is a legend nonetheless. Should it not, then, fall into the Monomyth? According to Joseph Campbell, the format should still apply, yet one would have to twist the tale into something near unrecognizable for it to fit into such a rigid mold.

Cambell’s formula is not just narrow in scope, but inefficient. It wastes time and energy squashing characters and plots into neat boxes with little room for change, when better and more in-depth analyses could be made in similar time frames if one were to forgo using The Hero’s Journey entirely. While one could spend hours debating the role of any specific character and which of the categories illustrated in Cambell’s work they best fall into, one could just as easily list and map their behaviours, internal dialogue, and motivations and come out with a much more detailed picture of both the character and how they affect the story. In terms of plot, The Hero’s Journey work states clearly that each and every story holds the same path, be it for a specific character or the overarching plot, but this is simply untrue. Many works often cited as the purest examples of the Monomyth (Tolkein’s works, and the first 2 Star Wars trilogies to name a few of the more famous examples) still do not fall completely into the pattern of The Hero’s Journey. One could argue that, while the original format of the Monomyth does not apply to every character and plot, it is still a good foundation for many classics and can be rearranged to fit many other tales more comfortably. The former point is one I will not argue, and is a fair reason to still teach it in schools, the second, however, holds issue: you cannot rearrange the steps of The Hero’s Journey, that is its very point. It says that every story follows, give or take, these exact same steps in the exact same order, hence the ‘mono’ in monomyth. It makes sense to cut up and rearrange the steps, it helps it fit more stories and, for middle grades, it is a good way to show the complexities of ‘traditional’ stories, however, in changing it it is no longer Joseph Campbell’s interpretation of myth that one is using, rather a new system based upon it. In this way Cambell’s archetypes and Monomyth cannot be considered a truly good tool, as one has to break and rearrange it to give it any semblance of application to the vast majority of modern, and even classic, literature.

The Monomyth, and ensuing archetypes, were taught to me throughout elementary, middle, and now high school. I don’t believe I can think of a single English course that did not, in some way, reference Cambell. Not only is this repetitive, but it also risks boredom in classes that otherwise are rather engaging. That is not to say that it should not be taught in schools, but constantly hearing it may lead to both a subconscious bias towards stories that follow this format (something harmful in later studies of folklore, poetry, and many nonlinear works), as well as creating a distaste for one's own creativity, cultivated by the repeated use of The Hero’s Journey as grading and assignment criteria. I, for one, have certainly fallen into the trap of the latter. This is incredibly relevant, given the recent decline in literacy amongst school-age children and adolescents. While one should not blame modern English curriculums alone for these plummeting statistics, having little change in lessons from elementary school through high school, and having to do similar, if not the same, assignments every year is sure to drive those who are already underperforming and/or unmotivated for English, or any humanities course for that matter, to try less and be less engaged with the course and it’s material.

None of this is to say that Joseph Cambell’s work is not a tool to be taught in schools, nor that it cannot be used in literary analysis, simply that you cannot expect the work of a professor of Medieval Literature that was published in 1949 to be able to apply to the vast range of stories that are available to us and have been created throughout the history sapiens.

[modmamono]

Give it 2 more years and more Puyo PuyoTubers will show up.

Specifically, ones that don't focus on gameplay.

I'm not expecting like 50, 40, 30 or even 10 PuyoTubers to pop-up in 2 years. But kids who had PPT1 in 2017 are growing up. Merely two new Puyo PuyoTubers (or Tubers that name Puyo Puyo drop it a lot) you can name popping up already is a significant increase.

I am a significant increase to Puyo Puyo Content in a little over a year on YouTube myself and I'm just one guy. (Though please don't overdo it like me. That's not healthy.)

Just waiting on even more people to fill the niche I fill or completely different niches. It'll happen. Even if it's not exactly the 2 years I said.

This is not me being optimistic, nor am I being pessimistic. I'm just being matter-of-fact from my POV.

Part of my motivation why I still make Puyo Puyo content is to set a good example for those that will come after me.

Any idea how much a YouTuber's opinions and style kids absorb? A lot. It's why the Sonic the Hedgehog fanbase is partially as volatile as it is. You can't like anything without someone being at your throat because it's cool to hate the Sonic game/thing you like now.

Sonic discourse in the "Meta-era" and "Dark age" was horrible. Just like what you like!

And Puyo Puyo's western fanbase is still in its relative infancy. So even if I'm wrongly assuming, it's best to not imprint any bias I have onto others so it can mutate into something hidious via telephone game anyways.

It's why I don't really state my opinions on characters that much, why I treat every game very egalitarian. Because I feel like I'm stuck with the duty to set a good example. Whenever I can I try to promote a healthier way of thinking, even if I'd rather you form your own opinions. Just don't shove them down my throat and I won't in yours'.

Granted if I was more opinionated my content wouldn't be that much different. I'm just that kinda guy.

But there's a reason my Puyo Nutshell videos don't really show my opinions at all (though not flawlessly). That was a very conscious choice. Having a good laugh is more important to me than talking something down.

My suspicions about why I'm still being a self-appointed role model have proven true over and over anecdotally. I see a lot of aggression, defensiveness, and/or infighting regarding Puyo Puyo.

Sometimes I make a funny video and people take it as criticism when it wasn't. Even when I made this video Puyo Puyo!! Quest hasn't been that lazy in many, many years, I cherry-picked those:

Sometimes I make I make a benign comment on how the Mario RPG remake's cover art is a nice call-back to the Japanese Original cover art and Square RPGs of the 90s. Que a few discord pings adamant letting me know how much better and impressive the American cover art is when it wasn't a Versus video all nor did I insinuate it was better. It was about the remake's box's own merits (you're not getting my opinion on which is now which I like more):

And things unrelated to me, there's just fighting which Puyo Puyo game's the best. As if that's something worth fighting over.

All of this and more is just not something I want in the PuyoTubers' and the wider fanbases' future.

Have different opinions just be civil about it.

So regardless of how accurate I am with my two-year or how many PuyoTubers pop-up assessments, it will happen. And I'd like to it be decently influenced. Don't be immediately at people's throats, try to see their side of the argument. Things like that.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning!  I hope you slept well and feel rested?  Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. 

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

Maine is the closest US state to Africa.

Eating spicy food may increase your lifespan.

Three million years ago, otters were the size of lions.

For every human on the earth, there are 16,000 mosquitos.

Scientists are unsure if animals know that sex leads to babies.

Your worst battle is between what you know and what you feel.

Vaccines are more effective in people who have more friends and are happily married.

According to mathematicians, all numbers can be categorised as either ‘happy’ or ‘sad’.

A family in Michigan has passed a fruit cake down the generations.  It was originally baked in 1878.

There is a town in Texas called Ding Dong.  In 1990, the population was only twenty-two people.

Men don't generally finish maturing until around the age of 43.  With women, it's around the age of 32.

If the Northern Giant Mouse Lemur were scaled up to human size, its testicles would be as big as grapefruit.

Japan has over 200 flavours of Kit Kat.  They're exclusively created for different regions, cities and seasons.

While Thomas Jefferson was president, he refused expensive gifts of wine and jewellery but accepted rare sheep.

Sprite can break down acetaldehyde, a metabolite of ethanol, making it an effective hangover-curing drink.

Repeating a common word over and over until it loses all meaning and sounds weird is called semantic satiation.

Sigmund Freud believed that fire was tamed by the first man who managed to resist the innate urge to piss on it.

When asked what his IQ was, Stephen Hawking replied, “I have no idea. People who boast about their IQ are losers.”

When ignored by someone whose attention means the most to you, the reaction in the brain is similar to physical pain.

Consider how hard it is to change yourself and you'll understand what little chance you have in trying to change others.

If you chew gum when you study a subject and then chew the same flavour when you the take the test it can help you remember.

A sunburn is the result of your skin cells committing mass suicide to protect you from their damaged DNA, which can cause cancer.

When feeling down, do some cleaning.  Straightening out the physical aspects of your life can also bring clarity to the mental one.

A Canadian university has built a Puppy Room on its campus, where students can go and play with puppies to relieve stress and tension.

Isaac Newton's Principia Mathematica contained a simple calculation error that went unnoticed for 300 years.  A college student found it.

Cherries contain 2 compounds inhibiting tumour growth and can even cause cancer cells to self-destruct without damaging healthy cells.

In 1985, the first plane hijacking in Norway's history took place.  No one was hurt and the hijacker gave up his weapon in exchange for beer.

When you fall in love with someone's personality, everything about that person tends to become beautiful.  (How do think I snared a wife?)

In 2010, Indian officials removed the coconuts from the garden of the Gandhi Museum in Mumbai lest one should fall on the visiting President Obama’s head.

Despite our relatively small size, the UK’s music exports were worth £2.5 billion in 2021.  In recorded music, the UK is the second largest exporter of music after only the US.

In Japan, there is a restaurant called The Restaurant Of Mistaken Orders, which only employs waiters with dementia, so you never know what food you’re going to get.

In 539 BC, Persian king Cyrus The Great issued the first ever decree on human rights.  He freed the slaves, declared that all people had the right to choose their own religion and established racial equality.

Human sperm defies Newton’s third law of motion.  Its movement does not provoke ‘an equal and opposite reaction’ to its surroundings due to a property referred to by the researchers as “odd elasticity”.

Shirley Jackson, the American author of Gothic horror and mystery novels, usually kept at least six cats.  They were usually all black or all grey so that her husband, who had poor eyesight, couldn’t tell exactly how many there were.

In 1971, Soviet engineers working in the Turkmenistan desert set a hole on fire which was full of natural gases.  The engineers expected the flames to burn out within a few days.  However, 52 years on, ‘The Door to Hell’ is still burning today.

If you mix lunar or Martian dust with a protein from human blood, you will get a material that could be used to build houses on the moon or Mars and is stronger than concrete.  If you add a compound from urine, you can make it even stronger.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day.  Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday!  I love you all.

[error501blog]

I wouldn't say that either. I'd say Okino is based on Japanese samurai, but the rest of the show isn't to me. The show only feels like Chinatown to me. As in the aesthetic feels different from Asia. Most Chinatowns have a variety of Asian cultures. (At least in my experience) To expand on the idea, it's the aesthetic of what people from the United States think of Asia. This is probably what the writers and people who are making the show think of Asia. (At least in 2011) I'd like to note that when I say "Asia", 99% of the time it's still East Asia. I also respect the authors of the show a whole lot.

In terms of worldbuilding, it feels very Western to me. (I'm sure some parts are. I am Filipina, not East Asian) The Oni are more like devils than a Japanese Oni.

Most of the main cast have European names. Wu is a Chinese last name, as well as Chen. I did some googling about Kai and Nya's names meanings.

Kai is a name from languages everywhere, including Chinese, Japanese, and Burmese. Nya is an African name (Swahili to be specific). Sora is a Japanese name meaning meaning Sky.

Lou is a Chinese surname, but also a "gender-neutral name of French and Old German origin" (Abner). At best I could see Lou being used like 娄娄 or 小娄, as a nickname. (When did we even find out Cole's dad's name?) I'm curious about the Mandarin subtitles. Which episode did we learn Lou's name and what did they call him in the Mandarin dub?

I could belabor the point further, but there is something clever I found. Misako is a Japanese name. The various characters used to spell her name provide different meanings. 巳砂子 could be translated to "'sign of the snake, sand, child'" Maybe it's an allusion to the Great Devourer and her husband. Many other translations could represent Misako. However, to me, this all feels like a happy accident. Especially cause Misako was introduced in season 2.

Here's the thing. Not all the weapons are Japanese in Ninjago. They're also the most famous weapons. Katana, nunchucks, and shurikens are so iconic. Practically the average person on the street knows what they are. Lloyd carries a dao blade, a Chinese sword. There are many other weapons. (Some are European, but others are just the bow and arrow. The bow and arrow are prehistoric, likely originating from South Africa. Spear is just in every culture ever. No one can deny the more Eurocentric D&D setting of MotM)

The weapons in Ninjago are chosen to adhere to the aesthetic of the season. I do agree with the fact that there's a notable amount of Japanese weapons. (I want to say significant, but that feels wrong. Most of the time it's spear in Ninjago) Remember, the world is what white creators thought Asia was like. They knew about Japanese weapons because China lost its sword culture. (Or the promotion of swords and viewing it as a status symbol long ago. I think it was there in the past, but it hasn't been retained in the modern day. Please correct me if I'm wrong) That's why the weapons mostly originate from Asia in the first two seasons. It adheres to the aesthetic of "Asia".

Since the weapons associated with certain characters are chosen so early in the process. Kai is now defaulted to having a katana. Rebooted gives us futuristic weapons like the techno blades and a lot of guns. The list goes on, but I don't want to list out every weapon in Ninjago.

To answer the original question of the original post, the show's world is a Westerner's idea of Asia in 2011. Just the cool parts, none of the uncomfortable or weird. Ninjago can't alienate its non-Asian audience because no one will watch the show. I don't think the world was on purpose, but the aspects of Asian culture were cherry-picked because that's what the white creators liked. It feels weird to have some parts of a culture feel "cool", but others aren't worth researching or considering. I'm not East Asian, but when I present myself I need to stay appealing. I can't eat dinuguan in public. I'll be patronized, teased, beaten up, or all of the above. I'm not the Asian American kid, I'm the Asian kid with weird food. My escapades at school and the worldbuilding of Ninjago have in common this lack of curiosity and/or willingness to accept something.

Names

https://ninjago.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_characters

https://kai.ai/blog/whats-in-a-name-the-many-remarkable-meanings-of-kai/

https://www.thebump.com/b/nya-baby-name

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

Weapons

https://ninjago.fandom.com/wiki/Weapons

http://tinyurl.com/2chwrczt

I'm not sure if Ninjago is Japanese or Chinese based because in season 1 or so, Nya's dress was a Chinese dress, but in the Prime Empire season, Okino said "yes" in Japanese multiple times, and there are many other clues too 🤔

[snackhobi]

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested.  It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose  at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.) 

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.) 

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist. 

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle. 

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.) 

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back. 

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power. 

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it. 

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

 “Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall. 

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered. 

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond. 

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it. 

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron. 

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi. 

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner.  There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.  

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway. 

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out. 

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot. 

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire. 

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway. 

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary. 

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you. 

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else. 

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it. 

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright. 

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you. 

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.) 

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung. 

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth. 

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to. 

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up. 

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say. 

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really. 

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists. 

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.” 

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor. 

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed. 

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad. 

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee. 

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is. 

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

 “Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say. 

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all. 

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice. 

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity. 

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think. 

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand. 

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?” 

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say. 

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove

[whimsicallyreading]

Eight Second Ride

Okay, so I did a thing. This is for @charincharge​ who made me think this was a good idea and @wordsxstars​ who convinced me to post it anyways when I reconsidered. XD I hope y’all enjoy. 

CW- An inaccurate portrayal of modern cowboys. They ain’t shit y'all. XD 

The smell of hay and top soil fills the arena and Aelin can feel the anticipation of the crowd rushing through her.

So far, Bulls Night Out had been more epic than she was expecting. When Aedion had showed up at her apartment and presented her with the tickets, she wasn’t impressed. A night in a building filled with dirt, watching men attempt questionable things with animals wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.

Yet, with every near-fatal miss and the difference between victory and failure lying in the milliseconds between competitors- Aelin found she was quickly becoming invested in the bizarre sport.

Lorcan Salvaterre was the name highlighted at the top of the leader board with an impressive nine-point-one second ride. A lot of the men, she noticed, didn’t even make the minimum eight seconds before flying off their bull.

Aelin had watched in morbid fascination as a rider named Vaughn was tossed and narrowly escaped death. A hoof missing his head by a hair. His buddies had helped pull him back over the fence just as a gate at the far end of the arena opened. She watched as two men on horses roped the angry steer and guided it back towards the stalls.

When Vaughn saw the timer which now reads N/A he took off his hat and threw it on the ground, yanking on the ends of his dark hair. A couple of hands reached around to pat his shoulder consolingly.

Aelin’s attention was pulled away as Aedion squeezed his massive thighs through the tiny, crowded stadium seating. A cherry frosty in one hand and the funnel cake she requested in the other.

He set the dessert of fried batter and powdered sugar in her lap, and her heart nearly stopped in her chest. Whether it was from the sight of something so greasy, or the pure joy of the carnival snack she didn’t know.

“It’s about time,” she goads Aedion through a mouthful of dough. The sugar already coating her fingers and a layer of it dirtying her jeans. It was a mess, but so good.

Aedion’s eyes narrow at her as he sips his frosty, “It’s a mad house down there. All of the lines are like a mile long and I’m pretty sure a clown tried to grab my ass.” He snags a bite of her funnel cake and shoves it in his mouth. “I hope your snack was worth it.”

“Keeping me happy is worth it,” she smacks his wrist when his fingers try to swipe another bite.

The crowd roars and Aelin looks back down to see a rider running back towards the fence, a glinting smile on his face. On the big screen, they replay his ride and clock him at nine-seconds even, placing him in second place.

Aedion whistles appreciatively at the footage and Aelin claps when a Fenrys Moonbeam is placed just below Lorcan on the leader board.

“Damn, he’s attractive.” Aedion comments, and Aelin nods enthusiastically.

“I’m not going to lie. I was skeptical about this-“ they watch as another rider is helped onto a bull and they await the go, “but this is way more fun then I thought it was going to be.”

“It helps that all of these people are fine,” he laughs. Aedion pulls out his phone, and videos the next ride. It only lasts five seconds, but makes an excellent boomerang that he swiftly posts to his story. Followed by a selfie of them and their snacks.

Lysandra would be so mad she bailed.

“Shit,” Aedion swears as he drops his frosty and the red ice bursts across the front on his shirt. “Shit. I forgot napkins.”

“I’ll go get some,” Aelin assures, but as she battles her way through the crowd and bumps various limbs against other peoples body parts, she regrets her chivalry.

It takes five minutes alone just to get to the bottom of the stairs. Pulling herself free from the throngs of people, Aelin leans against the bars looking down, directly into the arena. She needed a moment of fresh air, not surrounded by dozens of sweaty people. Aedion could wait an extra damn minute.

But, as she peels her eyes open, they nearly bug out of her head. Directly below her she can see right into the shoot, and the bull rider who was being set up for his next ride.

His eyes are the same pine green as the forests of her homeland, and she can see the white hair coiled into a bun right before his buddy slaps a hat on his head.

He was beautiful. A work of masculine art. Muscles for days and Aelin swore she could gut glass against his cheekbones. Aedion’s napkins are long forgotten as she stares at the man situating himself onto the fidgeting bull.

Rowan Whitethorn- the name is plastered on the big screen alongside his previous states and homeland. He’s from Wendlyn, her mother’s country of origin.

When Aelin looks back down, she startled. His face is locked on hers, green eyes piercing her skin with its inquisitiveness. He’s close enough she can see his pail eyelashes droop, apparently satisfied by what he sees. Aelin forces her expression to stay neutral as his yes flitter back up her face to meet her own gaze.

Their eyes lock, neither of them blink. Aelin can feel the temperature of the building rise by several degrees and she bites her lip.

A man slaps Rowan’s shoulder, telling him the count down has started. He barely pays the person any mind though as the seconds before his ride dwindle down. Just before the horn blows, he winks at her.

Aelin’s whole face burns as the gate is released and Rowan is out of the shoot like a rocket. Her heart is thumping in her chest like a base drum and she’s about ready to lay on the floor and die.

That man. She caught that beautiful man’s attention and got into a veritable starting contest with him like a five year-old. Her horror is only exacerbated when she realizes her hands are still coated in powdered sugar and it was probably on her face as well.

So much for her image as smoldering, goddess.

A roar from the crowd rises like never before. The men above the shoots near her have their hats off and are cheering at the top of their lungs. People are stomping, clapping. Something big just happened.

A replay of Rowan’d ride is playing across several different screens. Below his name, is his time.

Twelve seconds.

Suddenly, a pair of calloused hands are gripping the rails near her face, and a heavily muscled body is pulling itself up and over the edge.

Aelin staggers back as Rowan drops onto the floor in front of her. His eyes are lit with adrenalin and sweat beads his brow, but despite the whirlwind he’d just gone through he looked strangely serene.

He marches in front of her grabs a paper from inside his pocket. It’s a crumpled paper with a bold number on one side and on the back is his name and information.

Information like his phone number.

Her mouth goes dry as he presses it into her hand. Rowan gives her a smile that sends a tingle down her spine and makes her toes curl in her shoes.

“You are good luck, doll. You should give me a call sometime.”

Aelin’s bravado catches up with her and she places a hand on her hip, meeting his gaze full on. “If I’m such good luck then you would take me out for a drink. Tonight.”

Pulling the hat from his head, Rowan combs a hand through the loose strands of silver hair cascading around his face. “I think I can manage that.”

“I’ll be in row ten, seat seven. When you are done.” She pushes the piece of paper back at hum and nods to where Aedion is sitting. He’s be pissed when he realized she would be ditching him.

“I’ll see you in about an hour,” his eyes rake over her one more time before walking away to join his jovial friends.

They clap his shoulders, he’s so tall some of them have to jump to rustle the top of his head. All of them enthused over his almost assured win, before they sweep him away and he disappears into the crowd, he looks back at her one more time.

An hour, she mouthes to him.

A half-grin graces his face and he tilts his chin as Aelin makes her way back to Aedion.

Yeah, the rodeo was definitely more exciting then she was expecting.

[ganymedesclock]

outta curiosity, why do you think the bugs are human-y sized? i've seen that portrayal fairly often in fandom, but it never occurred to me during my own playthrough b/c of things like the weapons all being things like "Nails" and "Needles" (plus Cloth's huge fang club) which feel... like they're supposed to /seem/ small, if that makes sense.

Kind of a complicated web of reasons, some in-universe, some out.

The first thing I’m going to say is that I agree with you in that there is something that “feels small” about Hollow Knight’s world. When a friend of mine, @betterbemeta played the game, they spoke a bit about a “microscopic aesthetic” that they chalked to things like the amount of detail in the backgrounds. At the size we’re used to seeing the world, dirt is just dirt. From an insect’s eye view, however, individual grains are visible to a much greater degree.

This very granular nature fills the world. Nothing has the anonymity of just being dirt- it’s all shells or fossils or bits of stone and sand and glass. Our relationship with the world is intimate. We are shown spaces and the vastness of them looms, daunts. So I don’t for a second resent the impression that the scale of the world “feels small”.

What does bug me, if you’ll pardon the pun, is trying to add humans into this world as some kind of vast upper limit. Because while they wield pins and needles, nails and shears... these are not scavenged objects. This is not Pikmin. The nail is called such, but it is never a nail as we would recognize, designed to be hammered into an object. The bugs of Hallownest mine materials, and forge them into shapes that are engineered and worked artistically. The Nailsmith has spent much of his life obsessively honing his craft.

It feels arrogant, when there is no human presence in the game, to automatically slot us in an imagined supergiant slot that would trivialize the game and everything narratively important about it. It feels even more arrogant to suggest an independent culture that never shows any evidence of being dependent on humans is whimsically plucking our door nails for funny little bug sword duels, rather than that they have a culture of forging and carving their own weapons, tailored to their needs, without “divine inspiration” from anything bigger than it except its gods, which are themselves entities not in the likeness or shape of humans.

For me, I feel like it operates much better to presume Hollow Knight’s world is comparable to Nausicaa’s- it is a land of giants, rather than a land of the diminutive. A world that, if we or creatures like us were walking them, we would walk alongside Ghost, these same roads and highways, and would have this same experience of being dwarfed by the vastness of the space. I feel like if you really want to imagine humans in this world, either explicitly or for a sense of scale- we’d be on the level of the setting’s bugfolk.

Another thing worth noting is that this world is also very alien. Far moreso than, say, Pikmin, a game that does feature tiny aliens on a post-apocalyptic earth, where we can recognize much of the world and its shape even if the creatures now inhabiting it are strange. In Hollow Knight, the world is strange in its beauty and savagery. It’s really not like ours. The larger things get, the weirder they get. There’s almost no indication of mammalian life, or even, besides the bug-people having some recognizable species among them like moths, butterflies, cicadas, bees- creatures that we recognize. God Tamer is either an ant or a cockroach most likely, but her steed was originally conceptualized as a lobster- and it is an eight-eyed, quadrupedal creature with a filter-feeder mouth, large horns, an expanding translucent dewlap and neither claws nor long tail to speak of, so Team Cherry has actively avoided putting “normal creatures” in there.

This setting has a particular logic about creatures. Everything is translated through that lens, so things we would recognize come out distinctly different, and the general thrust is ‘more like a bug’. So to me, that precludes the intrigue of humans, because we have what humans would look like, with concession made to these strange rules.

They’re the characters we already see and interact with.

I dislike the idea of towering humans, because to me, the sapient bugs of Hallownest so clearly are the humans. I feel like this is a world on a divergent planet. There’s no apes for humans to come from, or monkeys to grow into apes, or even mammals for monkeys to come from- everything is bugs, so the sapient creatures come from bugs. Quirrel, in the prequel comic, even briefly holds a much smaller crawling insect and muses how it and he have similar shells, and, yet, are fundamentally dissimilar creatures. Another narrative could very easily transcribe a similar moment between a human researcher and an orangutan he spots in the bushes.

So this compels me to, in crossover contexts, put the bugs as close to humans. I feel like this is a beautifully constructed and deeply alien world, and there’s so little to gain and so much to carelessly bulldoze by adding in a sense of scale that allows us to just ignore so much of the strangeness and force our own ordinary world over it. I don’t have this problem putting in other giant or strange forces in the setting- I’d be super up to colossal forests of giant trees as a level or scene in a fanwork, for example.

But I guess that’s what turns me off of a lot of things like the bug tank AUs- the humans’ presence and society feels like a way to not just put what’s familiar to us in there, but in such a way that invalidates the refreshing novelty of the world around it. There’s no stated upper limit to Radiance’s powers- there’s nothing she can’t infect merely because it’s too large. So putting her in a glass tank wouldn’t negate her. If it was that easy to stop her, PK wouldn’t be driven to desperation and have committed a staggering amount of esoteric sin on his own children trying to find a way. It immediately undermines character plots and motivations.

Suggesting that the bugs are living borrower-style among humans and making use of their technology, likewise, cheapens the plot of the Nailsmith and his obsession, one that is shared by many, or, in the Silksong demo, Forge-Daughter’s “ancient line and honored role”.

Now, I have seen borrower-style stories and loved them! I was massively obsessed with the movie 9 when it came out, which featured tiny cloth dolls (the largest of them could be held easily in one hand by a human) surviving in an apocalyptic wasteland, and they utilized pieces of human technology cobbled together into ingenious new forms. But the thing about Hollow Knight, is it is not that world. Some weapons are large, almost oversized for their wielders- but they were still built with those wielders in mind, by other bugs, using designs developed by bugs. 

Cloth’s club doesn’t really refute this by being a tooth broken from a larger creature, either- the temple of the black egg is made either from, or in the likeness of, the hollowed shell of a truly gargantuan creature.

This world has some very big things. I feel like thinking of humans as ‘the giants’ in this setting vastly underestimates the world. That somewhere in Cloth’s journey- and somewhere accessible to the kingdoms’ guards that became Husk Guards- there were vast cadavers with teeth that could be harvested is explained handily on its own by the idea that this is a world partially populated by giants- giants that play by the same lovely arthropod sensibilities of the more regular-sized denizens.

Another exciting thing worth noting is that there are ribs and spines all over this world! If these guys were truly on the scale of ordinary bugs, they wouldn’t need them- their exoskeletons would do all the supporting for them. But these guys are big enough to need at least vestigial endoskeletons. The implications of the remains that we see don’t exactly show us arm or leg bones, but rather intact limb exoskeletons. So these guys would have more complicated organs and more bones, that a bigger creature would need, but something the size of a realistic our-world ant would not.

[svtxsoju]

00. prologue | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is!  ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Pairings TBA!  ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, mentions of sex, language, bad jokes ღ Word Count: 2.6k words ღ Binu’s Note: hi to anyone who is reading this!!! i’m super excited (and kinda nervous :0) to post this bc i’ve been working on this project for a while now. aaaa i hope there are at least some people who can enjoy it! this is a relatively short-ish chapter but it’s p dense with exposition lol but anyway if ur reading this, thank you i love you!!! 

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ Navigation ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Introducing The Front ’s New Romance Advice Columnist: Miss Soju! 

We all have an ideal: an ideal type, an ideal first date, an ideal relationship. The problem is love isn’t ideal at all. And sooner or later, we find ourselves sitting on that plastic chair in that tent on the side of the road with an ache in our chest. You’re hurt, confused, and kind of going crazy-- all the tell-tale symptoms of heartbreak are there. And the only cure? Soju, of course! 

Finding a decent partner and maintaining a healthy, sustainable relationship is difficult enough as it is. Then layer it with the culture shock of university, where you’re experiencing actual adulthood for the first time without mommy and daddy to hold your hand. It’s enough to make anyone lose their minds! Sure, you could always turn to your friends for support and advice, but in all honesty, they’re even more of a mess than you are. 

That’s why Mansae University’s affiliate newspaper, The Front, will be reviving our romance advice column this fall! Each week, Miss Soju will be answering all your burning questions, and that means all of them. Her expertise touches on topics as simple as explaining to that one guy that your love is fated because you passed each other at Yuhaeng Quad, like three times, and extends to more extreme situations that require an anonymous veil, like how to confess to your new boyfriend with the furry fetish that you’ve been severely allergic to animals since you were three and you have no idea how any animals act, let alone… Yikes. 

It’s true, college is full of new and bizarre experiences, some we must go through and some we’d much rather avoid. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life here. But it’s okay to admit that you need a little guidance through the mystical and confusing world of college dating. Miss Soju has got your back, and she’s not afraid to hit you with that real shit. As she always says, good advice is like taking a shot: sweet on the lips but burns your throat as you swallow it down. 

Monday, June 3rd, 2019 3:07PM

“Jihoon, I don’t know if I can do this.” 

Name: So Joohyun. Major: Journalism major with a minor in communications. Estimated graduation year: 2021. Desired position: World News Journalism Intern. That was what she had put on her application for The Front’s junior internship program. She had made sure to attach her published articles and to emphasize her interest in-- no, her passion for-- reporting compelling stories on an international scale. Not once in her application did she indicate that she was an expert in love or sex, let alone qualified to give others advice on the subjects! In fact, she was probably the least qualified person on campus for this position, which was probably the most perplexing aspect of the whole situation. 

But despite all of that, there she was, sitting in Yuhaeng Quad with her best friend, reading the promo piece she had written for Miss Soju. Jihoon had been ecstatic when he had thought of the nickname back in high school. She had snuck bottles of the alcohol over to his house one night after finals week, and he had drunkenly claimed that the name was doubly clever since So-ju were also the first two syllables in her name. When the newspaper had told her she needed an anonymous pen name, it was the only thing she could think of, mostly because creating a secret identity had made her in desperate need of a drink. She changed her mind. Having a secret identity was equally as perplexing as pretending to know how to spice up people’s sex lives. It was like she was some kind of Love Spiderman. She was not ready for that kind of great power or the great responsibility that came with it!

“‘I don’t know if I can do this’?” Jihoon repeated her words slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words in that order. Can I take your picture? I need to commemorate this moment.” 

“Can’t you see that I am having a crisis?” she whined. “The integrity of my career is on the line because I’ve never bothered to go on a date!” 

“When are you not having a crisis?” Jihoon laughed. He sat up from lying down on their picnic tarp to give her full view of his smug grin. Originally, he had dragged Joohyun outside in hopes that the perfect summer weather would help relieve some of her stress from the past week. He even found her favorite spot under the shade of an ancient tree that overlooked the stretch of green field. But Jihoon could not call himself a proper best friend if he passed on an opportunity to rub all of this in her face. “This is what you get for chickening out on all our group blind dates! I could have scored that hot bassist girl with the thigh tattoo, but nooo, you always had to put your career first.” 

“Sue me for having priorities!” she huffed. Leave it to Jihoon to chalk this all up to karma. Now that he mentioned it though, she couldn’t help but feel like a higher power was taking a piss on her life. Or maybe it was just the shit-eating smile on Jihoon’s face that had her on edge. Joohyun tried to avert her focus to a couple of boys tossing a frisbee around instead, but somehow that irked her too. The idyllic weather, the carefree students, everything that was pleasant seemed to mock her sour mood. She pouted at the ground in defeat, and continued, “You are the first person to know that if I was told that dating and fucking around were going to be crucial to my journey to becoming South Korea’s top journalist by the time I turn 25, I would have become a hoe long ago.” 

“Woah, are you gonna start your thot phase for this? Are we gonna have a hot girl summer?” The boy began to bounce excitedly. Joohyun felt it was high time to give him the finger, but she also felt a small smile tugging at her frown. “Easier said than done, though. Remember Jessi from high school?”

“Yeah I remember,” she said with a sigh. High school romance had lured so many of her friends into its clutches, with its enticing promises of sweet chocolates and stuffed animals, and she had helplessly watched from the top of the class as they forsook their grades for boys who didn’t even know what deodorant was. She only shuddered to think of the state of their grades after a nasty break up. It was then that Joohyun had decided that her future was not worth risking over a boy’s attention. “Which is exactly why I never got involved in all that mess in the first place.”

“This must be the gods telling you that it’s time to.”

“What kind of fucked up god sets up a virgin as a love advice columnist?” she asked the sky loudly. If she had known there was anyone listening, she would have insisted that her question was rhetorical and was not in need of any type of response! However, the gods cared not for grammar technicalities on the mortal plane. They just couldn’t resist the chance to respond to someone so openly questioning their decisions with some good ol’ spite. Honestly, with the way things were going for her lately, Joohyun probably should have expected the frisbee flying merrily towards her face, even if she hadn’t just challenge the universe. 

“Oh fuck!” Joohyun jerked out of the way and felt the frisbee thunk against her shoulder instead. “Ow.” At this point, she didn’t even have the capacity to be annoyed; she just braced herself for whatever misfortune life threw at her next. 

“Sorry about that!” A boy called out, jogging up to them. As he came into clearer view, she noted that he looked far from misfortunate, and also had to remind herself that staring was rude even if someone was unnaturally handsome. His features were soft yet striking, like he had been carefully sculpted from cotton candy. Or maybe a fluffy rain cloud? Joohyun shook her head a little as if that would get her to stop staring so shamelessly. She speculated whether it was the sun that made it look like his blond hair was a glowing halo. Okay seriously, stop staring! He gave Joohyun a sweet smile when he reached them. “My friend got a bit distracted. Now that I’m here, I can’t say that I blame him. Hope we didn’t do too much damage!” 

“Uh,” was her captivating reply.  

Jihoon, never one to miss such a ripe opportunity, piped up beside her. “She’ll be fine. This is Joohyun, by the way.” 

His smile widened at Woozi’s introduction, and Joohyun could swear there was an actual twinkle in his eyes. “Nice to meet you both. I’m--”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” They all looked towards the call. The ethereal boy let out a startlingly loud cackle at the sight of his friend, who gave the two strangers a sheepish wave before continuing to gesture for Jeonghan to return. Joohyun must have been put in a staring mood, because she didn’t miss how his friend’s big ears were a shade of pink and how they bloomed into a cherry red when they briefly made eye contact. She caught herself wondering if all the boys at Mansae University were always this cute. 

“I guess I better go,” the boy named Jeonghan shrugged. Joohyun felt his fingers brush against hers when he took the frisbee from her hand, his eyes glinting mischievously. Now she was sure she was seeing things. “See you two around!” 

They both watched him retreat in an awestruck silence. That was certainly… unanticipated. Even long after Jeonghan and his friend were out of sight, the brief encounter left a blanket of fogginess lingering over them. Had she not felt his fingers on hers, Joohyun would have easily believed that it had all been in her head. At the same time, she was pretty sure that she wasn’t bold enough to conjure up someone that looked like that on her own. As she continued to fathom how a human being could glow, Joohyun felt the fog dissipate into the warm summer air. She felt like she was waking up from a disorienting dream, and she blinked to hasten the process. To her growing bewilderment, she found that her heartbeat was steady as she came back to her senses, her mind seemingly devoid of the panic and doubt that had plagued her all week. It was a gasp of fresh air. 

Jihoon, on the other hand, had long broken free from the strong impression that the blond boy made. He noted the dazed look on his best friend’s face and rolled his eyes. Who knew that a pretty boy was all it took to make her shut up a bit? He nudged Joohyun impatiently, so that she could pay attention to him while he roasted her for totally flubbing her chances.  “You thinking of risking it all for that guy?” 

In an instant, Joohyun slammed herself back into reality just to shove Jihoon away from her. “That is so not happening,” she said a little too indignantly. Before Jihoon could reassure her that the guy seemed interested enough even though she had only said a single syllable to him, Joohyun suddenly turned to him very seriously. “Do you really think I  can do it, Jihoon?” 

“What, bang that guy? I can try calling him back here if you want,” he snickered. 

“You know what I mean!”  

“Okay sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Jihoon replied, his grin now melting into a familiar smile, the one that could put her at ease on her lowest days. “I just don’t know why you have to ask. You and I both know that you kick ass at writing. You’ve written about stuff like natural disasters and the student protests, no problem at all. It’s not like you have a PhD in environmental science or politics. How is this any different? ”

Joohyun scrunched her face as if Jihoon had just suggested that chocolate milk came from brown cows. “Dude, they’re completely different. Those articles were reporting on facts. I did research, I conducted interviews!” 

“That’s what I’m saying, Joo!” Jihoon exclaimed suddenly. As smart as she was, he couldn’t help getting a little giddy whenever he thought of a good idea before her. “Why not treat Miss Soju like any other of your other projects? I mean, love is probably one of the most well-documented experiences throughout history, and people are still going through all the same shit. There’s probably thousands of resources for a man simping on a hot chick alone. You can even take your pick, like movies, songs, books, weird couples on Youtube?You don’t need to have experience, because you can just do the research! ” 

“Research?” Joohyun repeated. If there was one thing that she was good at, it was doing the work. From the moment she had decided to become a journalist, everything she had done was a strategic move to get her closer to her end goal. She had spent sleepless nights perfecting the details of her writing, countless hours reading through endless archives of old articles. Hell, she even restricted herself from dating for years just so she could focus on keep her grades up. It was almost too easy of a solution. Maybe she was meant to do this after all.

 Another couple of months of research would simply be another hurdle on her way to the finish line and she was getting closer and closer. Finally, she felt a smile spread across her cheeks, a real, genuine smile. “I… I can do that.” 

“Now that,” Jihoon said as he took her hand in his, pulling her up to her feet, “sounds like So Joohyun. Or should I say Miss Soju?” 

She laughed as she dusted the grass off of her butt. “You know, it’s probably not a good idea to include the first part of my name in my anonymous persona. It makes it so obvious that it’s me.”

“Yeah, I mean it would be obvious if people actually knew who you were in the first place,” Jihoon scoffed, narrowly dodging a kick from her. “That’s a good thing for you! Anyway, let’s get out of here, I have a couple of tweaks to make to my song before releasing it tonight. Could you listen to it by the way? I need to know if it’s too cheesy.” 

“Oh, the song you’re writing about your mystery muse?” Joohyun hummed playfully while packing up their blanket. She followed after her best friend as he began the short climb uphill. “I don’t know if I want to, you’ve been pretty out of pocket today.”

“Hey!” he said defensively. “First: I don’t need a muse for my songs, I just have a very vivid imagination and my talent does the rest. Second: I literally just stopped you from giving up on your lifelong dream of becoming a journalist, so I think you owe me one. You’re just jealous I can write love songs without having an existential crisis.” 

“See, that is what I mean by out of pocket,” she paused for a beat. “I may be willing to listen to your song. For a small price, of course.”

“Okay, deal,” he agreed without hesitation, missing the way Joohyun deviously smirked beside him. They reached the concrete pavement at top of the hill and headed in the direction of his nearby apartment. “What is it this time, Ms. So?” 

“Well Mr. Lee, thanks to your lovely suggestion earlier, I have been inspired to begin work immediately. So we shall be watching Twilight on movie night,” she said all too gleefully, mostly for satisfaction that Jihoon’s twisted face of disgust gave her. 

“Do we have to?” he groaned.

 “It’s for my research!”

[nightskywonderer]

Status Quo Woes: Pre52 vs New52, New vs Old, Gains and Loses

I’ve always been interested in Superman and Wonder Woman but never really got into their comic stories. The first story I ever read was Kingdom Come which made me a fan of the Superman and Wonder Woman pairing.

When DC rebooted with new52, seeing the characters younger and basically, starting at a clean slate (or so we thought), it was a great jumping on point to invest in these version and gave the opportunity to grow with them as fans of Pre52 (Post-Crisis) and Pre-Crisis had the opportunity to do in their time.

However new52 became a controversial nightmare. Older fans and creators feeling like new, younger kids are stepping on their lawns. Lots of confusion and miscommunication storytelling wise of what starts as an actual clean slate(Superman and Wonder Woman specifically) and what can stay (Batman and Green Lantern keeping some Pre52 history).

But here’s the thing, new52 was still a much needed financial success and did bring in new fans to become invested in DC. By admittance of Dan Didio, the mistake of new52 was that it seemed rushed and unorganized but what was needed was more time and slowing down to develop the new52 concepts.

Superman and Wonder Woman becoming a couple was indeed a huge phenomenon! Some love it, some just like it, some hate it. But it still obtained interest, curiosity and fan discussions, civilized or civil (ship) war. Talk is talk.

Many detractors want to force the idea that not only new52 as whole but Superman/Wonder Woman was a failure. That’s not true. New52 was a financial success and brought new fans balancing out the loss of some older fans. It has been stated multiple times by the initial writer of their joint book, Charles Soule, sales were just fine. Tony Daniel even confirmed debut issue broke 100k and were lots of reorders. If there is a need for even more evidence, there the constant licensed merchandise. Superman/Wonder Woman has been a concept of potential interest for decades.

When the second creative team came starting with rewriting Superman and Wonder Woman’s first meeting just to create unnecessary conflict, that was a red flag, nothing good would come of that. Yet the book maintained. Fans still supported in hopes things would turn around. Then DCYou/Convergence came about, THAT is when sales started to tumble into the dumpster.

And here comes Rebirth. Rebirth was said to be not only a nostalgia trip but an “apology” to older “true” fans and deeming new52 as a whole as a big mistake. It was suppose to rejuvenate comics. It was a lot of cherry picking and revisionist history and contrived storytelling. The initial creative teams of Rebirth even seemed to enjoy being petty, throwing jabs at new52. Even using specifically Wonder Woman as a mouthpiece to force acceptance of the Rebirth status quo. This also happened within Animation, producers recently admitting using Wonder Woman to justify the abrupt change of status quo and to like a certain character that’s being force in to be “lead” now while Wonder Woman is forced on the sidelines. The producer also stated Superman and Wonder Woman together is for younger fans. Well no shit, wouldn’t you want the new, younger fans??

With all the spiteful praise of rebirth, the actual effect of it wasn’t as good as it seemed and full of smoke, empty promises.

Below, sales of Superman/Wonder Woman compared to Rebirth Trinity, the book that was supposed to be its better replacement. Worth pointing out that Trinity's sales benefited from the earlier boost provided by the line wide relaunch of Rebirth while Superman/Wonder Woman came out 2+ years after the new52 reboot and sold on its own merit. Superman L&C Convergence spin off was promoted as an highly anticipated book, the return of the “true”, “real” Superman and the slight of taking the marquee of “Original Power Couple”

Bonus tea: Superman/Wonder Woman also had less sales drop compared to both New52 and Rebirth Batman/Superman runs.

“What happens is, we get to 'Rebirth,' we reinstitute some of the things we felt were missing, but what also happens is, you put in things that made you want to revamp the line in the first place, and things get stagnant again. Everybody says ‘don’t change them anymore’ but the whole purpose of storytelling is change and evolution." - Dan Didio

Going back to the “old” status quo of Pre52 is WHY there was a reboot in the first place. Superman and Wonder Woman are still struggling in regards to sales and bringing new fans although, their stagnant “comfort zone” status quo was suppose to be satisfying to older fans. Rebirth has also caused even more of a convoluted continuity mess and character dynamics are empty.

Now DC is stuck with not only pissed of older fans that didn’t get exactly what they thought they wanted with Rebirth, but also alienated new fans.

[sepublic]

Ideas for potential future Hazbin Hotel episodes...

So in the event that Hazbin Hotel gets greenlit by some outside studio, or continues to function and thrive with fan support, I think there are a couple of important ideas/concepts that are worth exploring and forming episodes and subplots around;

-An episode about a second visitor (Alastor doesn’t count as he’s a benefactor and Niffty and Husk are employees, not guests) would be VERY important and I feel a good starting point for the next episode. We already have Angel Dust, but he admits that he only signed up for a free room (not that this won’t change...). For the show’s themes of redemption, we need to actually see someone else, probably someone who saw Charlie’s ad on TV, actually sign up to stay at the hotel. By having this happen, it’ll show that, yes, there ARE people who are legitimately interested in the Hazbin Hotel and its offer of redemption, and this can pave the way for more guests. Having the Hazbin Hotel gain traction (along with reactions from other demons to Alastor’s sponsorship) would move the plot along.

Based on the official art by Vivzie, I think characters such as Mimzy, Crymini, or Baxter would work. Rosie is a demon lord, so I don’t see her signing up anytime soon, Arackniss is unrepentant, and I think Molly might be saved for later. We’ve already had cameos of Mimzy and Crymini (the latter even watching Charlie’s advertisement), and considering how prevalent the aforementioned three are in art, they’d probably be good starting points for the hotel. Likewise, Cherri could possibly join later, but I’m not entirely sure.

-It’s mentioned in a Q&A that Demons can actually ‘level up’, increasing their rank and power in the process. Considering Alastor seems to be vying for the spot of a demon lord (or at the very least started off concerningly powerful for someone who hadn’t yet leveled up), this would be a good subplot to explore not only Alastor and his motives and abilities, but also introduce Rosie and potentially Lillith, Valentino, and Vox. Ideally, we’d be introduced to leveling up as a concept, and see how it works and what it does.

Likewise, we could also explore the demon hierarchy in general, and how it works. How does Lucifer, Lillith, Satan, and Beelzebub’s authority extend? How do other demons feel about them? Have there been attempts to overthrow them, and how loyal are the Demon lords, assuming they have any allegiance whatsoever? We see a Bat Demon Lord and Dinosaur Demon Lord with Lillith when she looks at Charlie’s fireworks, so it seems THOSE two at least have it good with the ruling family.

-Having an episode dedicated to a new arrival at Hell would also be interesting, as we’d see what it’s like to suddenly die, only to be reincarnated as a demon (potentially as an animal you hate, no less) immediately afterwards. Having a subplot of the Hazbin crew welcoming in a new demon would be a neat way of exploring how Hell works, how one gets introduced and acclimated to the area, and the lifestyle. It could also be used to explore the origins of other characters, or at least the circumstances in which they died and/or arrived. Additionally, it’d be in Charlie’s best interest to immediately invite new arrivals to Hell, as presumably they’d be in a vulnerable, disoriented state and want to leave Hell ASAP. It might be taking advantage of someone else’s predicament, but it’s probably in anyone’s best interests to leave Hell, and we can also explore Charlie’s character flaws later.

-Speaking of arrivals and new guests, having the story focus on how the redemption and rehabilitation process actually works would be pretty important. 

-Character backstories and origins are pretty key, and exploring Angel Dust’s family and mobster origins would be vital regarding his redemption. Likewise, a proper introduction to Valentino (and the Hazbin crew possibly dealing with him, a bit VIOLENTLY might I add...) is begging to be animated. We could answer various questions, such as what exactly ARE the Egg Bois, Vaggie’s hostility to other demons, the origin of Alastor’s power, why Niffty seems rather obsessed with men, and so forth.

-Twice, Alastor has offered Charlie’s hand, and both times she’s declined a handshake/deal. This seems like foreshadowing towards an inevitable ‘deal’ she’ll make with him, so an episode about this (probably later in the series) would be an interesting concept.

-Similarly, Alastor always smiles because he sees anything else as a sign of weakness; So obviously, preferably as late into the series as possible, we need to have the show’s most major ‘All hell is loose’ moment in which Alastor frowns.

-More Sir Pentious antics... that’s really all I have to say. Presumably these would be Wile E. Coyote subplots as he attempts to destroy the Hazbin Hotel and repeatedly fails, with some plots failing without the main cast even being aware Pentious was trying.

-Charlie backstory, alongside her family dynamics with Lucifer and Lillith, as well as her thought process in creating the Happy Hotel. A meeting with Vaggie and explanation of the two’s relationship origins would also be neat, and the introduction and clarification of Satan and Beelzebub as separate entities from her father is also neat.

-I think an episode actually showing if it IS possible to be redeemed and go to heaven would be very important regarding, again, the show’s themes and Charlie’s motives and goals. Perhaps it’d happen later in the series, or earlier, depending on the answer to the age-old question; If you CAN go to heaven, we’ll definitely need an episode exploring a demon that rehabilitates, and the process of ascension. If you CAN’T go to heaven after redemption, then this would probably be revealed as some devastating reveal later down the line that forces Charlie to question herself.

-Likewise, an episode(s) focusing on Charlie’s flaws and misunderstanding of redemption would be great for her character. Charlie is definitely well-meaning and optimistic, but at the same time you get the idea that she’s a bit naive and doesn’t quite fully understand how people end up in Hell, and how tricky of a process it is to actually rehabilitate oneself. Charlie learning that she can’t push people into becoming better just by being all happy and sunshine-y would be relevant as a character arc, and it’d motivate her into approaching redemption more subtly. People can and ARE messed up in Hell and are dealing with intense issues, and Charlie needs to learn to recognize this and give people the space they need to improve.

-We see the results of the Exterminator Angels’ annual massacres, but we have yet to see one in action. Thus, an episode that showcases what an extermination actually looks like would be both fascinating and also utter nightmare fuel as the characters try to survive and protect the guests at the Hazbin Hotel, who may not be any more exempt from extermination than anyone else. Likewise, seeing how the Demon Lords and others prepare for an extermination would be neat world-building.

-Mobster, crime-ring shenanigans with Angel Dust, Cherri, Arackniss, etc., would also be fun to see. It could be used to explore what the demon underground looks like, what ‘laws’ there are in Hell, if any, and how society functions. It could also explore the idea of Exterminator weapons being a major thing in the black market due to their ability to actually, permanently kill a demon.

-What happens if a demon dies from an Exterminator weapon? Vivzie may or may not answer this, but going into speculation, I think a slain demon might actually reincarnate into a new life outside of Hell, thus given another ‘chance’ but as a different person entirely.

-Somebody dies permanently; Again, we know demons can be taken out completely by the Exterminator weapons. I think this could make for some interesting drama, or it could just be reserved for some one-off, one-shot character in order to explain how Exterminator Weapons work.

-An episode about Charlie just completely, UTTERLY losing it and revealing her true demon form in all of its hellish entirety would also be amazing.

-More Niffty and Husk interactions! 

-Another musical number isn’t NEEDED, but it would admittedly be pretty great. Potentially, there could even be an entire musical episode dedicated to all of the characters singing, which explores their motives, backstories, etc.

-Additionally, having filler subplots of the cast trying to deal with and rehabilitate the episodic, demon-of-the-week and dealing with said demon’s flaws and making them a better person could be entertaining.

-How much of Hell IS there? Overpopulation is an issue, so presumably there are boundaries... And if so, what ARE those boundaries? Does Hell just end at a cliff hovering over an empty void, or is it contained at the bottom of a giant pit?

[hippriestess]

Part 2: Cherry-picking

Cherry Red had been releasing The Fall's new music since 2011's “Ersatz GB” and we already knew that Smith had signed a further deal with them to look after what portion of the group's catalogue he owned. They had already made a start with the handsome seven disc “Singles 1978 - 2016” box set they had released late in 2017 (alongside a cut-down three disc “A Sides” collection). The set had originally been scheduled for release in 2016 but the production deadline for the all-important Christmas market was missed and the set was held back until after “New Facts Emerge” - from which no singles were taken - had been released. Following Smith's passing, the seven-disc edition sold out and was unavailable for a short time before Cherry Red did the decent thing and made a few more.

A reissue of  1997's “Levitate” had been in the works for a while; Smith had signed off the tracklisting and there had been a trailer of sorts with a Record Store Day-only 7” of “Masquerade” in 2017. Given that the album had been in contractual limbo for quite some time with original vinyl copies fetching 3 figures on the open market, Cherry Red's first posthumous release felt like a public service,  doing the right thing both by Smith and by the fans. Released towards the end of May 2018, the new 2CD/3LP edition was justly well received and some kindly reviews appeared with mostly positive re-evaluations of one of their most awkward albums. Hindsight benefits the record; if it sounds like they were falling to bits, it's because they were and now that we know not just what happened next but how the whole story of The Fall continued for another 20 years, it has context. For the record (Portugal), yr present author is no more fond of the album than she was 7 or 8 years ago but “Ol' Gang” has clicked into focus and the second disc puts those great b-sides from the “Masquerade” CD singles back onto the shelves so it would have to be considered necessary.

Less impressive was “58 Golden Greats”, released at the end of 2018. A 3CD set in a clamshell box, this was, in essence, an extended version of the classic “50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong” collection from 2004, extending the tracklist to cover the remainder(er) of the group's career. It actually expands on the original in other ways, adding several songs from the era covered in the original version; the puzzling omission of “Big New Prinz” is corrected for one thing and other singles are added such as  “Oh! Brother” and ��Dead Beat Descendent”. Perhaps Beggars Banquet were more co-operative this time. Whilst one could always quibble with any attempt at a Fall “best of”, yr present author was not taken with this one and my purse remained closed. 58 was an unwieldy number (why not a round 60?), the cover artwork – a spoof of a different Elvis Presley sleeve – was far from appealing and the entry-point value of “50,000...” was lost, a 3 disc set at £17 being too big a serving at too high a price for the merely curious. However, it looks as if I'm just flat-out in the wrong. As we'll continually see, Cherry Red aren't just experienced, they are also smart and do not lack savvy. I'm sat here keyboard-griping while “58 Golden Greats” is sold out. Enough said.

In 2019, Cherry Red announced the beginning of the Fall Sound Archive, the title of which gave the air of a mission to preserve The Fall's work for future generations. Inevitably, they were starting with 40th Anniversary editions of “Live At The Witch Trials” and “Dragnet”. There was early disappointment. The 3CD edition of “Live At The Witch Trials” contained the exact same music as the 2CD edition from 2004 but spread over three discs. Any thoughts that the decision at least preserved the sanctity of the original 11 song album were hampered by the 3CD edition of “Dragnet” containing, as disc 1, the exact same running order – with single and outtakes – as the 2004 CD edition. The other two discs were 2 of the little-loved “Live From The Vaults” series (of which, more later, sort of..). The archive was perhaps, not so deep.

However, the plus points were the vinyl editions, which had been hatched with obvious care. Using the rare US edition of “LATWT” with an alternate sleeve and revised running order was a clever touch and one that acknowledged that the Fall's audience would need something more than just a nice colour of vinyl before they indulged the album yet again. Similarly, “Dragnet” came with a reproduction 7” of “Rowche Rumble”, a record which originally came with the thinnest paper sleeve in the history of music. That's not to say that we didn't get coloured vinyl, oh we did - “LATWT” came of red vinyl to match the US sleeve and “Dragnet” on black and white “splatter” vinyl. These both sold well, sold quickly and sold out, now being tricky to score except on the Discogs etc market. But perhaps more to the point, they suggested that Cherry Red's experience and nouse would, at minimum, keep things interesting.

Later in 2019, the Kamera catalogue came under Cherry Red's microscope and it was another mixed set of releases. For CD buyers, a 6 disc set called “(1982)” was developed. This contained “Hex Enduction Hour”, “Room To Live” “Fall In A Hole” various single and live tracks and the “Live To Air In Melbourne” album which had previously snuck out in the late 90's when MES was broke. There was no new music to be had here at all – everything had previously been released. As such £40 was too rich a price tag for many and the edition is still easily available. The new vinyl edition of “Hex” was well particularly well presented. For the first time, the 60 minute LP was cut onto 4 sides of vinyl – a long overdue move, this did the album real justice on the format and would have to be considered an essential for those who insist on twelve-inch slabs of wax for their music. A pleasing, sturdy fold-out sleeve showed that corners were not being cut, the vinyl again matched the colour scheme of the artwork and it also came with an excellent reproduction of the sterling “Look, Know/I'm Into C.B.” 45. What spoiled it a little bit was the inclusion of a third LP with Peel Session #5 on one side and some of the live tracks from the 2005 Sanctuary 2CD on the other. All this really did was drive up the price – a double LP with the 7” would have been perfect and would have been less heavy on the purse *NB – this didn't stop me buying it – that's my copy in the picture...). “Room To Live” was given a vinyl reissue too, this time as a double LP with sides 3 and 4 being the live tracks from the 2005 Sanctuary edition. Again, this didn't quite feel like the right choice – an alternative idea would have been a single LP with a 7”. Given that the classic “Lie Dream Of A Casino Soul/Fantastic Life” single had been added to the popular, widely owned German pressing, why not add a repro of that instead? It would have cost less and added more value to the package.

Despite these whinges “(1982)” would have to be considered an elegant, practical solution to a latter-day problem and demonstrates why Cherry Red remain a market leader in catalogue reissues. Can you really sell compact discs of these albums yet again? How else do you present the music in this format? The answer to parcel the whole lot together and present it as a “year-in-the-life” was a smart one that was only hampered by an optimistic £40 price tag (which translated to as much as £58 in stores) and the artwork being based on “Hex” which could have given a more casual customer the notion that the set was Hex and 5 discs of “other” material. The bottom line here is that there is nothing else in the cupboard; as with the IAKO ballet and the Hey! Luciani play, fantasies about things like the unedited “Winter” and the full 20+ minute “And This Day” ever appearing are exactly that – fantasies. Were they ever preserved, they're gone and anything that did turn up, almost 40 years hence would likely be in such a state of degeneration as to be unlistenable. From now on, all that can be done is to keep this material out there and try to present it with a fresh angle. That's precisely what Cherry Red have done here.

Come 2020, come the challenge of reselling what is not just one of the most widely-distributed but also one of the worst Fall albums: “Reformation Post TLC”. Cherry Red stuck to type with a double LP pressed into blue and red coloured vinyl, again matching the colour to the sleeve. Undoubtedly a handsome package, this version was snapped up with some enthusiasm although it does seem that sales were likely harmed by coinciding with the early, uncertain, often panic-stricken days of the Covid-19 pandemic reaching the UK. The 4CD edition was daunting: the whole album and 2 CDs worth of outtakes and rough mixes, followed by the “Last Night At The Palais” CD. The “Last Night At The Palais” DVD was not included. Time has passed, time has healed and it is clear that RPTLC is a terrific EP stretched out beyond the energy of the participants. There is even a strong 40 minute single LP to be had within its contents but, hey it was what it was. With almost all of the unreleased mixes having no vocals, interest wears off before we got to the excellent live disc but, on the other paw, Cherry Red have done exactly what we want; it is highly unlikely that there is anything left from the album sessions; this is the whole lot, every scrap. Up to us now what we do with them.

****************************

Now, if you're thinking I've skipped something, you're right but the story of The Fall's posthumous discography is difficult to tell in a linear fashion. So I invite you, friends, to join me in a diversion. Cast your minds back to Record Store Day 2019.  

Cherry Red played a good hand by releasing a new vinyl edition of the superb “Imperial Wax Solvent” album. As with “Levitate”, vinyl copies were going for silly money, Universal having allegedly pressed a mere 500 for the world. It was a shame that Cherry Red therefore added only another 500 copies, this time pressed into yellow vinyl. These were almost entirely snapped up on the day and copies of this edition are routinely offered at £50-60.  “IWS” had, of course, been out of print since 2008, having been deleted less than 6 months after its release. As such the RSD edition of  “IWS” could be said to have undersold the record somewhat. Unless, of course, a properly “available” edition, maybe with that unreleased original mix of the album was to follow at some point...more on that later.

Sadly, we must also wade through the other Fall releases that were curled out for RSD 2019. That will take us into Part 3...

[emilyblame]

Let’s start with fandom

ok. this is gonna take forever.

Cherry Red.

i think this song is pretty straightforward. and since the main theme across the album is grief (surprise, surprise, it ain’t fandom), i think it pretty much represents the beginning of grief: the defeat after being beaten one too many times. first by his break-up with Ciara, and then their old label (Equal Vision) keeping all the rights to their music and original art. also, i think the name comes from Awsten’s synesthesia, and then he stuck with calling Ciara “Cherry Red” because it either sounded cool, or it was something that he actually called her, we’ll never know.

Watch What Happens Next.

this one is extremely straightforward too, there’s really not much room for interpretation. just read the lyrics. this song is a fucking kick in the nuts not just to the fandom in general, but to the music industry too. it’s a big FUCK YOU to everybody who wants something from them without giving anything in return. and also to everybody who thinks they’re entitled to tell them how to create their art.

Dream Boy.

i mean, we’ve been here, we’ve talked about this. Awsten’s talked about this. this song is about being put on a pedestal so fucking high, he’s gonna crack his skull when y’all inevitably feel like he’s not worth it anymore. it’s about confining Awsten in this little fucked up box where you like to believe he’s perfect and flawless, but the second he does something ‘wrong’ (aka: something you believe it’s out of character for him, or something that doesn’t fit with the image you have created of him) you wanna toss him out and ‘cancel’ him. i’ve said this so many times before but: kids, don’t let Awsten let you down. he’s just a guy.

Easy To Hate.

this is obviously a break-up song. but it’s not your regular mopey-break-up song. it’s about the exact moment when he realized, “you know what? i loved you, but what we had was toxic as fuck and i’m glad it’s over.” like that moment when something stops hurting, and you don’t have the strength to be mad about it. don’t worry, he’ll be mad about it later in the album… because grief is a loop, apparently.

High Definition.

long story short, the first half of this song is about Awsten realizing how non-functional his relationship with Ciara was, you know? in hindsight. about staying away, knowing that’s what’s best for him, but still missing her. and the second half is about how much it sucks to be a touring musician, in every aspect of his life. sad patch in the grief path. low, low point.

Telephone.

this one is about having a crush on someone but doing nothing about it because you’re not in the right mental state to be in any sort of relationship. it is like a little cloudless patch in an otherwise stormy sky. a ray of sunshine. a spike of joy when you thought all was lost. continuing on in the path of grief. it’s the Waterpark’s version of Paramore’s Crushcrushcrush, someone had to say it.

Group Chat.

Aawsten worded it better (obviously), but the idea of Awsten’s voice being all fucked up is that you’ll never know how the other person is feeling just by reading them on social media. and also, about the fact that grief and pain is not something that happens once and when you’re 'fine’ or you’ve 'moved on’, you’re happy again and back to normal. it’s meant to represent how the pain, and depression, and anxiety, and every shitty thing that happens to you stays with you forever. and just because you can’t see it, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there (yeah, i just totally stole Chester’s words for this– god, i loved that man. and i miss him everyday.)

Turbulent.

i feel like this song is Easy To Hate’s angrier sister. like, it’s still about his break-up and it’s still about him realizing how much better off he is now, but… angrier. he’s not just, “what we had was toxic as fuck and i’m glad it’s over,” it’s more like, “what we had was toxic as fuck, and i’m tight as fuck, and you should be so lucky, lose my number.” angry patch of grief.

Never Bloom Again.

and we’re back to sad. but it’s not please-take-me-back-i’m-nothing-without-you sad. it’s an i-know-i’m-better-off-but-i-can’t-help-but-still-miss-you sad. and also a kind of i’m-broken-beyond-repair sad (which makes me incredibly sad.) but i mean, the lyrics pretty much speak for themselves. one thing that i really love about this song is something that Travis also pointed out, and it’s that the line “all the girls in Los Angeles look like you from a distance,” has that dual interpretation of meaning that he either sees her everywhere or that she’s not special at all, that she’s just like every other girl in L.A.

I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don’t Wanna Die Anymore

again, pretty straightforward lyrics. again with the anger. this is more like, sad angry. frustrated angry. i’m-sick-of-this angry. again touching the main theme of Dream Boy and maybe mixing a little bit of High Definition, i feel like this song is about everything he hates about the way his life was the moment he wrote it. like, all the cons of every aspect of his life. the cons of being popular on twitter, the cons about getting bigger as a band, the cons about living with the fact that he put his heart in someone’s trust and she shattered it like it meant nothing. i love the ending, when he starts repeating, “But I guess its fine, it’s cool,” and it gets progressively more frustrated and agressive, like he’s trying to convince himself that what he’s saying is true. like, if he keeps repeating himself that he’s fine and that things are cool, he might end up actually believing it.

War Crimes.

so, much like Watch What Happens Next, this song is really straightforward. actually, i like to think of it as WWHN’s b-side. like, they’re different sides of the same coin. because where WWHN criticizes the fandom and the music industry, War Crimes is a critic on how fucked up his own peers are too. like, the other bands, instead of becoming allies in the 'fight’ against the industry, they stab each other in the back to get to the finish line first. it’s about knowing who your real friends are; and how far he’s willing to go to ‘make it’.

[Reboot].

this one is a little on the sad angry side. but lyrics are also pretty straightforward; they’re about his break-up with Ciara, there’s not really much to read into.

Worst.

this one is angry angry, kinda like Turbulent. like, [Reboot] sorta states the way he feels about the relationship now (aka: when he wrote the song), and Worst is like, “And this is exactly how you broke me.”

Zone Out.

the reason i think this bit is here is to say, “am i still the boy you dreamed of?” like, after hearing all of this, after hearing how broken i am, do you still think i’m perfect? do you still think you want me?

I Felt Younger When We Met.

lyrics speak for themselves here. and we’re back to defeat… because grief is a loop. and so is the album. literally. i fucking love that so much. stupid sexy Awsten with his talented brain, i wanna kick him and hug him…

[parrotvoid]

Is there an evidence-based argument to support the continuation of the “War on Drugs” in America?

I saw this question asked on Facebook and it got me thinking about what is “evidence-based” when referring to an evidence based argument or policy and does an evidence-based argument even drive us to the best policies? 

Let’s start with a definition of what evidence-based policy really is.

I think Wikipedia’s definition does a good job: 

“Evidence-based policy (EBP) is a term that came to be widely used in the last couple of decades of the twentieth century. It has been applied in multiple fields of public policy to refer to the idea that policy decisions should be based on, or informed by, rigorously established objective evidence.”

The problem with any argument or policy that is “evidenced-based” is:

A) All reasonable arguments and policy should be evidence based, in that they are grounded in reality and supported by facts.  Otherwise, your argument is just based on ideology and personal beliefs / feeling.  Such an argument isn’t an argument at all... it’s just an opinion.  

B) Facts and statistics can be easily misinterpreted, poorly analyzed, cherrypicked, manipulated, or even counterfeited to serve a narrative.  Both sides of a dispute often have fairly reasonable looking “facts” backing up their arguments so how do you decide which set of facts is closer to the Truth?  Sometimes this problem is simply that one side is better informed and the other side is misinformed, but more often each side is obtaining real facts about the same problem but they are measuring different sides of the problem.  This goes back to the Buddhist parable of two blind men feeling an elephant.  One touches its leg and states it’s a tree.  The other touches its trunk and claims it’s a snake.  Without ever checking what the other man was experiencing, the two men get into such a heated debate that they end up striking each other.  The conclusions both men made seemed reasonable, given their limited information, but both ended up being fools. 

Illustrator unknown - From The Heath readers by grades, D.C. Heath and Company (Boston)

C) Evidence in the form of facts and statistics are only informational.  Facts can guide how we pursue a path but don’t produce the values for why we pursue that path.  Each path that the facts put in front of us will have a different mixture of costs and benefits.  Values are what end up guiding us to choose which benefits are worth their associated.   

For example: When we are making a decision about what type of transportation we want to use for a cross-country trip, we could be given all of the data about the types of transportation (planes, trains, cars, bus, boat, etc.) and each’s price, speed, safety record, carbon footprint, convenience / comfort, risk of catching a disease, etc.  But, the specific form of transportation you end up choosing will be dependent on which set of facts you find to be the most valuable.  A person travelling for business may not want to be away from their family longer than necessary and choose the fastest mode of travel.  Another person may be an environmental activists and choose the mode with the lowest carbon footprint.  “Evidence” can only take us so far and thinking that there must be something wrong with a person who disagrees with you because your side is aligned with the “facts” is a very closedminded and often foolish perspective.       

So to answer the original question: 

The War on Drugs is currently unfavorable on the Left (because of the push for pot legalization) and on the Right (because of the growing strength of Libertarianism), so the current political climate is pretty unfavorable to the War on Drugs.  However, if the War of Drugs became politically favorable, pundits would start cherry-picking numbers and constructing arguments.  I can imagine some of these arguments would be something similar to, “the War on Drugs has been successful at preventing X crimes by putting N violent criminals behind bars” or “the War on Drugs prevented X car accidents and Y overdoses by removing Z drugs off of the street”.  Such facts would be challenged by other fact-based narratives about examples of other countries with looser drug laws not having the health and mortality burdens predicted by the other side.  Then the anti-drug side would return with how those other countries are not representative and so on and on.  

The point is that the “facts” stop at the numbers we have observed.  Everything else is prediction, speculation, theorizing, and, of course, value judgements.  When a line has to be drawn in the sand, some people are more willing to accept to risks associated with drug legalization while other people are more comfortable paying the costs of the status quo.  I think it’s intellectually dishonest to claim that one side of the argument is “evidence-based” and the other side is not.  

[ramblingguy54]

A Single Pale Rose: Pearl’s Most Powerful Scene In All of Steven Universe

Pearl’s literal revelation to Steven about what actually happened in that fateful Gem war many years ago is easily one of her strongest moments, regarding this character’s heavy backstory. Steven Universe, throughout its five seasons, has been building up for awhile that Pearl knows more than she is able to let on about Rose and Pink Diamond’s implied “shattering”. Each time Pearl has tried to speak that painful truth to Steven, her hands forcefully covered her mouth. It’s pretty clear that she wanted to tell not just Steven, but the other Crystal Gems for a long time about what occurred in that tragedy of their war for protecting Earth from the Diamonds, but Pearl didn’t know how to go about bypassing her direct order given on that day by Pink Diamond, herself, to keep everything about this big plan of their’s a secret forever from everyone, including those who were closest to them in trusting.

Pearl, you have to tell me what’s wrong.

This hand gesture not only works as excellent foreshadowing of Pearl’s secret with Pink Diamond, but it’s brilliant symbolism of her PTSD from the Gem war. Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst tried to save the corrupted Gems who had their original forms destroyed by the Diamonds powerful attack on all of Earth, but weren’t able to reverse what they thought was permanent damage at the time, so they were in a sense “dead”. It’s already bad enough Pearl can’t discuss about happened, but now she has all those Gems’ blood on her conscious, due to going through with Pink Diamond’s fake shattering idea. Pearl wanted to help protect the Earth, but in ironic tragedy ended up with screwing over many Gems from being able to live a normal life, stuck in a painful state of existing all because she wanted to make her Diamond happy and be loved by her strongly, too. Like, if that isn’t the most crushing way to bring down Pearl’s self-esteem, by being hit with this curve ball then I don’t know what the actual Hell is. Then you got the cherry on top where Pearl gets a serious reality check that Pink Diamond, or rather Rose now, forming a powerful romantic connection with Greg makes her realize that her love is extremely one sided to Rose. Pearl had a condescending attitude toward Greg trying to be in love with her Diamond, considering he didn’t have it in his natural design to fuse, which is known by Gems to be the ultimate form of loving someone they care strongly about. However, after seeing how Rose was willing to better adapt/understand Greg’s humanity rather than just laugh it off was a serious wake up call for Pearl, where she had to reflect on her relationship with Pink Diamond in general.

I think he’s her favorite, too.

This huge twist with Pink Diamond being Rose all along adds so much great depth to both Rose and Pearl’s characterization. Throughout a good chunk of the series run time Rose is at first made out to be this beautiful individual, who’s incapable of doing any real harm to anyone, but as things progress further down this rabbit hole, it’s perfectly clear that Rose was nowhere near that messiah others previously thought her to be. Granted, Pink Diamond definitely made the right call in separating herself from the extremely abusive and dangerous environment of the other Diamond, but there were serious consequences in faking her own death, so she could live a normal life. Also, it’s pretty fucked up in hindsight to keep one of your own subjects from speaking the truth to others who were close to you, as well, in the mission to preserve all living things on Earth. Pink could’ve definitely gone about handling that particular idea better with who should know the truth about her plan, instead of just telling Pearl in so many words, “No one can know, not even our other comrades. Only you can carry this truth.”. That’s exactly why I love this scene so much because of how it greatly humanizes the concept of Rose’s presence in the story.

This shot of Pink’s face carries so much of her emotional trauma she suffered from the other Diamonds who greatly abused her. Pink was so afraid of being dragged back to Homeworld for greater punishment, if caught red handed, that she only confided in Pearl, who’s original purpose was to follow any command by their superiors, since Pink couldn’t stand the thought of going back to that severely toxic lifestyle ever again. It’s understandable why Pink took this approach, but it resulted in Pearl getting scarred greatly by these intense events because she had to attack someone Pearl loved with every fiber of her being. Not to mention, the fate of other Gems who greatly suffered by the Diamond’s malicious attack after they thought Pink was shattered by Rose. Pearl has had to carry all this guilt for many years and couldn’t tell a single soul about it. Gosh, if there was any way to get me in feeling more sympathy for Pearl, this was the best way to go about executing that idea, overall. Really puts a particular line in perspective from Season 1′s episode, Rose’s Scabbard.

But not from me! I was the one she told everything!

Pearl didn’t feel so worthless anymore after Pink encouraged her to be unique and not some lifeless door mat, who follows any order given to them. Rose turning out to be Pink adds a massive gut punch context to this episode’s plot line. Pearl wasn’t saying that to be a know it all suck up, as Pink trusted her most out of all the other Gem’s she interacted with. Makes it all the more heartbreaking for Pearl having to humble herself in her relationship with Pink Diamond, since even after having to help fake her shattering, Pink still wasn’t entirely honest with Pearl. Pearl already sits on a big mountain of insecurities from her life, so to be hit upside the head with yet another big revelation about Pink’s actions has to cut real deep for her. Hands down, A Single Pale Rose contains my favorite Pearl moment, which adds a heavier context to episodes that focus on her chemistry with Rose and is just an all around wonderfully crafted dramatic episode of big revelations for Steven’s conflict of better understanding who his mother was as a person. It’s a seriously emotionally mesmerizing scene that never fails to get me heavily invested on what’s happening and the implications of it all. The music, animation, and voice acting just all click together spectacularly here, creating what is my top highlight from all of Season 5′s episodes. The payoff for all the character build up and foreshadowing worked out quite well in the end.

A Single Pale Rose made Pearl my favorite of the Crystal Gems with the new added context it gave to her PTSD from the Gem War and serious inferiority complex. Pearl is by far the most explored in this series with how she tries to be the most knowledge and confident with skills, but has serious issues with accepting change when challenged by what she perceives as “correct”, making her seriously doubt her own self-worth to the team’s dynamic, overall. I strongly relate to Pearl in feeling inferior and trying to contribute something of value to feel special, while feeling like I have to work harder for it, too. No question, she’s my favorite of the group with Amethyst and Lapis being a strong second in that regard.

[detectiverickitubbs]

He hesitates. He doesn't want to use her like this, but he knows if he doesn't ask the question, he'll kick himself for it afterward. "Ricki," Sonny begins, sighing and looking down before looking up at her, "are you... are you happy here with us?.." He knows she must miss New York, but there's an odd combination of pride and sympathy pains at the idea that she's had to turn her entire life upside down and move here. But that isn't really what he wants to ask. "...with me?" he finishes quietly.

Sonny must have caught her staring at the ol’ black and white photo of her now-deceased brother. It is of the few personal possessions that she kept folded away in her wallet next to her New York driver’s license. She hasn’t yet found the time nor the patience to update her address with the sloths over at the DMV. A smile, hollow and haunted, finds purchase upon her lips for but a brief moment.

Somedays, Tubbs found it hard not to be nostalgic for the stuffy breath of the Big Apple and the city’s hurried pace. Today, happened to be one of them. 

Miami was beautiful. Hell, it belonged on thousands of postcards. The kinds that tourists bought by the dozens. After all, Miami has been deemed America’s Vacation Land. But she was still trying to salvage what little was left of a life in extreme turmoil which, could be likened to trying to piece a shattered glass together with only half of it’s original parts. Yet, internally, she knows she can not return to her home up North or they’d definitely fry her for misconduct. And quite frankly, she is surprised they hadn’t come down South looking for her. Tubbs supposes they didn’t have the manpower or energy to do so. Which, by virtue, made her incredibly lucky.

Soft hues of coffee and evergreen dare to drift Crockett’s way when he speaks. A semblance of guilt and shame creep into the unwavering pupils. Sonny seemed unusually nervous with his line of inquiry and this causes Tubbs to quietly slip her wallet and all its contents back into the drawer of her desk. He then managed to capture her undivided attention.

Of all the things she had been expecting to be asked, happiness had not even made the top fifty-percent of the list. In fact, almost no one in the unit had seemed to care about the state of her emotions except for dear Sonny.  “I… suppose I am. I’m still kinda getting used to everyone and everything.” She starts, her voice at first coming off as distant yet maintaining its eternal warmth. Happiness was certainly a relative term and subject to interpretation. But before she could continue, he tacks on another part of his question. This time striking a chord much closer to her heart and far more personal!

Her hands instinctively reach across their combined desks to grab his larger ones. “Sonny,” his name departs her tongue with effortless endearment. “I…” Butterflies seize over the rapid fluttering of her heart. She already loved him so much, it hurt her heart to see him looking mildly dejected. “I am so happy here with you. You saved my life not to mention my career, in more ways than one.  I really owe you.” Tubbs professes. “Out of all my partners, I like you the best. We work well together, man. And no amount of money can buy the kind of chemistry we have.” Oh, no?! She had said it. Perhaps too much. Twinges of crimson, far deeper than bing cherry push into the upper crests of her cheekbones.

“Why?” She ponders aloud in return. Tubbs had recognized the unease embodied by every inch of his physical features. “Listen, if this is about my complaining about my living arrangements to Lou… don’t worry. I’ve decided that working with you is worth dealing with the Cuban bikers from Hell.” Naturally, she was still displeased about having to be stuck in what was little more than a glorified drug-house. Yet, it really was aiming a little too high to think she’d be granted a more cushy lifestyle right off the bat.