#while irregulars was cancelled and mostly forgotten

[mzannthropy]

Wait, I think this is the first time that I see English-language media mention Sam's series. Is it finally getting on their radar?

Also, Pierre's film actually had a 100% Rotten Tomatoes rating, it's when it got to America that it went down to 98%.

I didn't know there were two Nosferatus (not that it's necessarily my kind of thing anyway) but it again proves right what I said in one of my recent posts, referring to Fox's cancelled Persuasion adaptation, that you can have two titles of the same thing made close together and it doesn't matter. Basically they planned to adapt Jane Austen's Persuasion, starring Sarah Snook and Joel Fry, but then they decided not to go ahead with it, bc Netflix was also making their Persuasion (that one with Dakota Johnson which I hear is terrible). I saw Austen fans saying that they believed the Fox one would have been a good one. It's a shame that they felt they had to cancel it just bc of the Netflix production. Like, I'm sure Austen enthusiasts and period drama fans would not object to two adaptations of the same book in the same year. And those who complain can just not watch it. Or they can go to hell.

I mean, there's always some Sherlock pastiche going on and people are still into it.

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #14

“Hyung?” Jungkook asks, sticking his head into the office. “He's here now. Should I let him in?” Yoongi looks up from the papers he had been frowning at, giving Jungkook a long stare.

“Who's here?”

“Park Jimin,” Jungkook replies and then, after another moment of no recognition on Yoongi's face, he adds, “The dance instructor?”

“Oh,” Yoongi says and the memory rushes back at him. “Right. Send him in.”

“Alright,” Jungkook nods and ducks out again. Only a few moments later, the door opens once more and another man steps in, this one probably older than Jungkook but younger than Yoongi, but it's hard to judge really. Jungkook is tall and broad in the shoulders, and Yoongi himself only doesn't get IDed for alcohol because most of the time he is wearing a suit. This guy is about as short as Yoongi and has an entirely to angelic face, and the fact that he is dressed in leggings, an oversized sweater and comfortable sneakers makes him look like nothing but a college freshman.

“Hello,” Park Jimin says, giving a little bow, and Yoongi stands up from his office chair, though his back protests at the movement.

“Please,” he says, gesturing at one of the cushioned chairs standing in front of the desk, “Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Park Jimin says. “This is a lovely office.”

It really is, Yoongi can agree on that much. But he hadn't called the man here to talk about his interior design.

“Did Jungkook-ah tell you why I had him contact you?” he asks instead, skipping the useless smalltalk. Jimin seems to catch on to that, sitting a little more attentive. He has to tilt his head back a little because Yoongi is still standing, a habit he developed for when he needed to intimidate business partners and the like.

“He said you needed a dance teacher,” Jimin says, “Because you have a bad back.”

“Yah, that brat,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, “He makes it sound as though I were sixty.” He shakes his head and carries on. “I have developed somewhat chronic back pain because I'm mostly tied to this desk. My doctor said I need to strengthen and stretch the muscles more. And Jungkook-ah recommended you.” Jimin nods, though he looks a little curious. “Wouldn't yoga or pilates be better suited for that?”

“I tried yoga,” Yoongi admits. “But it just made me aggressive.”

“Yoga... made you aggressive?”

“That 'breathe and relax' shit doesn't work for me,” Yoongi explains, the swearword easily slipping out of him. “Just made me annoyed at everyone else in the class.”

“There are different variations, though,” Jimin tells him. “Some focus more on endurance and strength, like power yoga.”

“Look, do you want this job?” Yoongi asks, “Jungkook-ah told me you could always do with some extra money.”

“Ah,” Jimin looks chagrined. “I guess I do.”

“Good,” Yoongi nods, though he has half a mind to call this whole thing off. “I can only do Tuesdays and Sundays, though.”

“What time?”

“Late, of course. Maybe eight?”

“I'll have to check whether I can reserve us a room at the studio.”

“No need,” Yoongi says. “I have no time to drive around town. My living-room is big enough; we can meet there. It's not far from here.

“Oh,” Jimin says, surprised. “That works, too, I guess.”

“Good. Have Jungkook-ah give you the details – my address, payment, appointments, etc. If you have any additional questions at some point, just ask him.”

Yoongi sinks down onto his chair again, his vertebrae creaking, and turns back to his papers.

The next weekend, he has almost forgotten about everything. But then his phone beeps to remind him of the appointment and five minutes later the doorbell is already ringing.

“Evening,” Yoongi greets Jimin as he lets him in. “Please come in.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says, slipping out of his shoes and neatly setting them aside. There is a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, but other than that his outfit isn't much different from earlier that week.  He isn't subtle about eyeing Yoongi, though, who is still dressed in his fitted suit.

“I just got home ten minutes ago,” Yoongi explains, waving him into the hallway. “Haven't even had dinner yet.”

“You work on Sundays?” Jimin asks and Yoongi scoffs.

“I work every day.”

“Sounds tough,” Jimin muses, “Now I get why Jungkookie calls you a slave driver.”

Yoongi's mouth falls open but he quickly snaps his shut again.

“That little...,” he growls, though he can't really find it in him to be really offended. Jeon Jungkook was his secretary, assistant and protegé, and Yoongi expected utmost dedication of all of his workers. And of himself. A business such as theirs was not run on complacency.

They are in the living-room now, and Jimin lets his eyes draw along the hardwood floors and minimalist furniture that Yoongi had paid someone else to pick out.

“This'll do,” Jimin agrees with Yoongi's earlier verdict. “Go get changed, get a towel and a drink, and we'll begin.”

“Can't I sit down and eat something first?” Yoongi asks.

“No. Your body will just get more tired,” Jimin knows, “And you might throw up.”

Yoongi frowns. “'the fuck are you gonna do to me?”

But Jimin just smiles. “Work you hard.”

Despite Jimin's words, they start slow.

He doesn't want to risk further injury to Yoongi's back, so they start with an easy warm-up first, getting Yoongi reacquainted with all his muscles and the joints that he only knows because they click so much.

There are a few things Yoongi learns about himself:

he cannot touch his toes

he is even less suited to dancing than he is to yoga

he likes the way Jimin's own body twists through the exercises in fluid grace

“Damn,” Yoongi says by the end of it because his entire body hurts but in a way that can only be described as pleasant. He used to play basketball in high school and had always enjoyed that lingering burn, but he had never known to miss it. He suspects he is going to change his tune by tomorrow morning, at the latest, when he has to fight his way out of bed, but perhaps Jungkook's idea had been a good one after all. Not that Yoongi was going to admit that.

“Okay,” Jimin says at length, hands on his hips and giving a decisive nod. “I think we're done for the day.”

They had been at it for about one and a half hours and Yoongi doesn't think he could even go a minute longer. His spine feels as though it would very much like to burst from his back.

“Thank God,” Yoongi moans, wiping the sweat of his temple. The dance moves had all seemed deceptively simply, especially when performed by Jimin, but then Yoongi had found himself struggling to follow. Even the cool-down exercises had been a challenge all of their own. Jimin, in the meanwhile, is barely even out of breath.

“Have a shower, eat something light, and get a good night's rest,” he instructs Yoongi, “And then I'll see you on Tuesday.”

Part of Yoongi wants to tell him no, wants to make up a bullshit excuse and cancel all further appointments. But Min Yoongi is no quitter and so he just nods and watches Jimin leave.

Weeks pass, and Yoongi gets strangely used to his new routine. Half of the time, he wants to bash his head against his desktop when he remembers that he has lessons in the evening, but once Jimin is putting him through the paces again, he finds that he rather enjoys himself.

His back pain, while not miraculously vanished, has already gotten much better, as have his joints and his entire posture. The weight that used to sit on his chest, and the pressure that had settled all over his skeleton had slowly been alleviated, until Yoongi did no longer felt as though each step was torture.

He's been cutting down on the pain killers and the sleeping pills and the alcohol. The other day he even walked to the office when the weather was nice, and when one of Jimin's favorite songs had started playing on the radio one time, Yoongi had even danced along a little, in the safety of his kitchen.

Jimin himself had turned into much more than just a dance instructor. He admonished Yoongi on his unhealthy diet, his irregular sleep schedule, and his choice of footwear, recommending a different brand that would better support his steps. He had even brought Yoongi some herbal tea that was supposed to relax mind and muscles, and Yoongi had resisted at first but now drank it religiously before going to bed each night.

The biggest change, however, was the gradual familiarity that had developed between them. Yoongi knew what kind of music Jimin preferred dancing to, knew which classes he was teaching at the studio, knew the way droplets of sweat pearled down along Jimin's temples when he went all out.

Yoongi, in turn, had made some concessions of his own. When he had been late from work one Tuesday he had come home to find Jimin shivering in the drizzle, Yoongi had simply given him a key set and permission to simply let himself if whenever Yoongi wasn't home yet.

And that is, perhaps, what ends up changing things the most.

Yoongi knows that Jimin is already there by the way the windows in his living-room are illuminated when he parks his car and glances up along the side of the building. He knows it by the rhythmic beats that spill out underneath the door before he even unlocks it. He knows it by the soft tread of feet on wood as he steps out of the hallway and sees Jimin lost to the music.

Jimin dances with a kind of abandon that is unfamiliar to someone like Yoongi. Because Yoongi knew hard work, he knew drive and dedication and the struggle that came with becoming the best version of yourself. But he does not know passion, not like this.

Jimin dances as though he had never known anything else, dances the way other people breathe - unconsciously, freeing, life-affirming.

Finally, he does a half-turn and spots Yoongi leaning against the door frame, simply watching him.

“Oh,” Jimin says, coming to an abrupt halt. “You should have said something.”

Yoongi shakes his head with a lopsided smile.

“You're good at that,” he says, pushing himself away and walking further into the room.

Jimin snorts.

“I better be,” he says, carding the hair out of his face. “I've been doing this since I was a little kid.”

“Some things can't be taught,” Yoongi knows. For some reason, he cannot help but remember their very first meeting, stilted and unfamiliar as they had been. Back then he had been wearing a suit as well while Jimin had been in his comfortable workout clothes. Yet everything else is different not.

He pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek and thinks for a moment.

“What are you doing on Friday?” he asks at length and Jimin frowns.

“Friday? Do you have to reschedule one of our sessions?”

“No,” Yoongi says. “But I'd like to take you to my favorite restaurant, if you have time.”

A look of surprise passes over Jimin's face but it is quickly replaced by quiet pleasure.

“Friday sounds good,” he says, and Yoongi smiles. It seemed he'd have to give Jungkook that raise after all.