#and a lot of dumb takes on the publishing industry (i say from my work computer)

[fratboykate]

I love hearing you talk about what actually goes on in the film and TV industry. It really shows that lay people truly have no idea what happens behind the scenes and who's actually integral to getting their favorite show made. I have a dumb question related to that stuff if that's OK? If a film is indie produced and doesn't get any kind of distribution aside from being put on amazon and apple TV, does that have any chance of turning a profit?

i saw a writer use the term in the last few weeks that i love because the idiots have really come out of the woodwork since the whole strike talk started. that writer called it "fansplaining". it's where fans try to explain shit they have no idea about TO THE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY WORK DOING THE THING and then you ask them "what are your qualifications to even be talking on this" and WITHOUT FAIL it's always something like "well i took my AV class in high school" or "i took a class in college" or even worse "im a cinephile" and in the same breath are saying the dumbest shit of all time that has no connection to reality. ive said it before and ill say it again: unless you work in the industry or are like a trades reporter (and surprisingly during the strike we've also found out a lot of them dont know jack shit either) you know nothing. the amount of stupidity i see said on here, twitter, or IG comments is insane and people say it with their full chests too. and they wont hear otherwise either. you live in bumfuck, arkansas and have never step foot on a set or a development meeting. i could take a class on welding and would still never dare to pretend to know more than the people who actually earn a living doing this. no one has enough hubris to walk into surgery and tell a doctor they know more whats going on better than they do but suddenly when it comes to the industry EVERYONE is an expert because theyve read a wikipedia article. this industry is complex and layered and the vast majority of what happens and how it happens never makes it to the people who don't work within it.

stop pretending you know anything. about how it's done or about the people who work in it. those actors you love and who couldnt have more sanitized public personas as "uwu sweet baby angels"??? a lot of them are fucking pricks. they play a version of themselves for the cameras and the fans the same way they play characters. you.dont.know.people. and you dont know shit about shit. stay in your lanes and stop embarrassing yourselves online.

and as far as your question...hardly ever is the honest answer. those platforms are like spotify. everyone can through their song on there but having it on there wont guarantee it'll get plays. its almost the equivalent of self-publishing a book. you can throw it on amazon but...is anyone going to read it??? the way indie has both eroded and become oversaturated at the same time because, back to my previous point, everyone thinks theyre a "filmmaker" just because they can buy a camera is a whole other conversation for another day.

[masonpelt]

My Writing About Musk Isn't About Musk

It seems like I've been writing a lot about Musk. Objectively I, and most other writers have been. I cannot speak for others, but for me Musk is just an object lesson in the bad part of startup land.  

I've been around startups since I was a teenager. I've seen so many gallons of toxic startup BS. Musk embodies all of it, in a neatly name-recognizable package. But he's just a repeating story of the same old nonsense.

My digipal @naynerz shared a draft of something she'd written about a particularly absurd requirement in many companies hiring processes. It's an excellent article and I'll let her publish at the time of her choosing. Reading her draft caused me to rerun an article from October with my takeaways from a bad startupish job listing.

https://masonpelt.substack.com/p/a-business-lesson-from-a-bad-job

To sum the article up in bullet points:

Founder/CEOs often scale way past their capacity to manage but stay super protective of the company.

The skills and approach that allow founder's to build, often complemented by delusional confidence and dumb luck, rarely scale with the organization.

When someone doesn’t know what they don’t know, the human tendency is to develop irrational proxies to evaluate.

Last month I had a job interview with a startup that was so bad I've written three articles about how not to conduct a job interview. The articles will likely end up published on my own channels because startup media has basically vanished. It seems like most startup coverage now begins with $100 million and 200 employees.

https://twitter.com/masonpelt/status/1598915778174033922 In August I wrote that Musk's flippant disregard for his contracts to acquire Twitter showed that smart contracts aren't really possible.  I didn't have to search for an example of a startup that owed money to my company. I just used the example where A Twitter cofounder was an investor. 

https://hackernoon.com/elon-musk-shows-the-limits-of-smart-contracts I have many other stories. I'm still pissed off about being stiffed on petty amounts of money from  startups back when I was 17. My friend @cullen has his own stories of nonpayment as a teenager working with startups. We are not alone, Musk embodies the startup world.  

In the context of a long and personal essay about how the behavior of those in entrepreneurship often mirror those with substance use disorders Musk's name didn't come up once. And yet, I shared this article with people because it explains much of Musk's behavior. 

https://pushroi.com/examining-entrepreneurial-addicting-to-the-ghost-of-a-friend/

The startup space overlaps with the fake guru space heavily. The personalities are often hard to differentiate. But small scale is uninteresting to readers, or worse institutional support is extended to pay the bills.  

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/fake-gurus-welcome-online-business-guru-grifter-industrial-mason-pelt/

In that article from 2020, I talked about the Forbes 30 under 30 lists and Forbes Councils as shams. "In 2017, the aforementioned Sam Ovens made the Forbes 30 Under 30 Asia: Industry, Manufacturing & Energy list. What does a man from New Zealand, selling the secrets to earning six figures, with offices in Dublin and New York City, have to do with manufacturing or Asia?

I’m not saying Ovens bought his way onto the list. But Forbes props up fake guru types with credibility. In fact, undeserved endowment of their trusted brand is built into the business model. Even now, Forbes takes money from people to become members of one of the Forbes Councils. With that nearly $2,000 membership, someone can write for the Forbes site and use the trusted logo on marketing material in perpetuity."

My attack on Forbes was part of why that article ran in the independent Arc Digital, and not mainstream or quasi mainstream tech press. At the moment I have three articles being pitched to editors about the startup world. All mention Elon Musk. Heck, I got a very polite rejection from one editor, because they had too many Musk stories. Fair, Musk, Holmes, and SBF all generate a lot of think pieces, because mainstream news will cover them. The articles are often just a repeating story of the same old nonsense. Only this way, people will care.

[anquer]

AI generated art stealing from artists is bad but I would also like to say that the handful of broke people using AI to create art of their OCs because they can’t affort commissioned art are not the people we should be yelling at.

It’s important to encourage people to buy from artists, and I do agree that those who can afford commissions should absolutely do that before turning to AI art, but I just don’t think those who can’t afford commissions can be blamed for using AI. Other options are available, such as picrew, but they just aren’t as good as AI at getting specific details and mood into the art as well. While AI often doesn’t do exactly what we had in mind, it does generally produce nice results that have much more character to it than picrew art can.

I mainly stand behind those people because

1. they are not the core issue. I don’t know any numbers, but I’m willing to bet that the number of people getting their OCs drawn by AI rather than getting then commissioned from an artist (because they literally cannot afford commissions!!) is very small.

2. I am still broke myself, and while I now have the skills to draw my own OCs, I remember what it was like a few years ago to be absolutely penniless, with no real drawing skills yet, and yearning for quality art of my OCs.

In my (perhaps unpopular) opinion, we should rather focus this energy towards encouraging people with money to buy commissions and being loud enough that perhaps in the future, AI art can start moving into a more ethical direction somehow. Because another fact is that now that we are starting to have quality AIs available, they’re not going to go away. What that means for artists is nothing good, but hating on the broke who don’t know how to draw themselves is stupid.

And honestly? In my opinion, going forward, a bigger problem than those broke people using AI for a few portraits of their OCs will be all the big companies using AI for things like the art in their marketing campaigns, the whole visual style of everything, all of their graphic design in general, even stuff like storyboarding and comics once AI gets advanced enough. Articles and blogs might replace photographers with AI-generated photos if the photos don’t have to be from a real event. If we start getting AIs that are capable of producing coherent video too, a lot of jobs in all video-making industries will be lost. AIs are already writing some articles, and who knows if in the future it’s the majority of news and articles that are researched and written by AI rather than humans? Perhaps AI can even learn how to write best-selling books and that leads to publishing companies taking in less and less human works because the perfect AI doesn’t need editors, royalties, OR months (or even years) of time to finish the story.

Now, I’m obviously hoping that AI will be used to support creative work rather than destroy it, but in this capitalist world, I don’t have high hopes. That’s why I think yelling at the broke who make a few OC portraits for themselves using AI is dumb. They aren’t the cause of this and they really won’t have an impact on the art industry or the future of AI.

(However, someone with enough money to pay for art opting to use AI instead? Yikes.)

[cavehags]

To see just how much human potential is being squandered by having knowledge dispensed by the “free market,” let us briefly picture what “totally democratic and accessible knowledge” would look like. Let’s imagine that instead of having to use privatized research services like Google Scholar and EBSCO, there was a single public search database containing every newspaper article, every magazine article, every academic journal article, every court record, every government document, every website, every piece of software, every film, song, photograph, television show, and video clip, and every book in existence. The content of the Wayback Machine, all of the newspaper archives, Google Books, Getty Images, Project Gutenberg, Spotify, the Library of Congress, everything in WestLaw and Lexis, all of it, every piece of it accessible instantly in full, and with a search function designed to be as simple as possible and allow you to quickly narrow down what you are looking for. (e.g. “Give me: all Massachusetts newspaper articles, books published in Boston, and government documents that mention William Lloyd Garrison and were published from 1860 to 1865.”) The true universal search, uncorrupted by paid advertising. Within a second, you could bring up an entire PDF of any book. Within two seconds, you could search the full contents of that book.

Let us imagine just how much time would be saved in this informational utopia. Do I want minute 15 of the 1962 Czechoslovak film Man In Outer Space? Four seconds from my thought until it begins. Do I want page 17 of the Daily Mirror from 1985? Even less time. Every public Defense Department document concerning Vietnam from the Eisenhower administration? Page 150 of Frank Capra’s autobiography? Page 400 of an economics textbook from 1995? All in front of me, in full, in less than the length of time it takes to type this sentence. How much faster would research be in such a situation? How much more could be accomplished if knowledge were not fragmented and in the possession of a thousand private gatekeepers?

What’s amazing is that the difficulty of creating this situation of “fully democratized information” is entirely economic rather than technological. What I describe with books is close to what Google Books and Amazon already have. But of course, universal free access to full content horrifies publishers, so we are prohibited from using these systems to their full potential. The problem is ownership: nobody is allowed to build a giant free database of everything human beings have ever produced. Getty Images will sue the shit out of you if you take a historical picture from their archives and violate your licensing agreement with them. Same with the Walt Disney Company if you create a free rival to Disney+ with all of their movies. Sci-Hub was founded in Kazakhstan because if you founded it here they would swiftly put you in federal prison. (When you really think about what it means, copyright law is an unbelievably intensive restriction on freedom of speech, sharply delineating the boundaries of what information can and cannot be shared with other people.)

[that-disabled-radfem]

Happy back-to-school y’all

I’ve attended and worked at a couple of super liberal universities. I avoid the gender studies departments for obvious reasons and I still had a lecture in which the female prof gave a brief overview of TERFs and proclaimed her hatred of JKR. Being openly critical of gender ideology, the porn industry, kinks, and ‘sex work’ are the kind of things that can ruin your future in academia. Not to mention the fact that any speech or actions that could be labelled transphobic (ie. defining woman as adult human female) can get you a suspension according to many universities anti-hate-speech policies. 

So, here’s a list of small and smallish (small in terms of overt TERFery, some may require more effort than others) radical feminist actions you can take as a university student:

(this is a liberal arts perspective so if you’re a stem gal this may not apply. but also if you’re in stem maybe you can actually acknowledge that women are oppressed as a sex class without getting kicked out of school. idk)

(Note for TRAs hate reading this: One of the core actions of radical feminism is creating female networks. This is not so that we can brainwash people into being anti-trans. This is because female solidarity is necessary for creating class consciousness and overturning patriarchy. It is harder to subjugate the female sex when we stand together.)

Take classes with female profs. Multiple sections of a class? Pick the one taught by a woman. Have to chose an elective? Only look at electives offered by women. When classes have low numbers they get cancelled. When classes are super popular, universities are forced to consider promoting the faculty that teach them

Make relationships with these female profs. Go to office hours. Chat after class. Ask them about their research. Building female networks is sooooo important!

Actually fill in your end of year course feedback forms. Profs often need these when applying for tenure or applying for a job at another university so it is very important (especially with young and/or new profs) that you fill out these forms and give specific examples of how great these women are. Go off about what you love about them! Give her a brilliant review because you know the idiot boy in that class who won’t shut up even though he knows nothing is going to give her only negative feedback because he thinks any woman who leaves the house is a feminazi b*tch. 

(note: obviously don’t go praising any prof - female or male - who is blatantly racist, homophobic, etc.)

(Also if you have shitty male profs write down all the horrible things they have done and said and put it in these forms because once a shitty man gets tenure they are virtually untouchable)

(also also, leave a good review on rate my profs or whatever other thing students use to figure out if they want to take classes. idc if you copy paste your feedback from the formal review. rave about the class to your friends. do what you can to get good enrolment for that prof for reasons above.)

Participate in class. Talk over the male students. Say what you mean and mean it. Call out the boys when they say dumb shit

Write about women. If you have the option to make a text written by a woman your primary text in an essay, do it. Pick the female-centred option if you’re writing an exam-essay with multiple prompts. (Profs often look at what works on their syllabus are being written about/engaged with as a marker of whether to keep those texts the next time they teach the class. If there are badass women on your syllabus, write about them to keep them on the syllabus) Use female-written secondary sources whenever possible. 

(pro tip: many women in academia are more than happy to talk to you about their papers. expand your female networks by reaching out to article authors through email and asking them about their cool shit)

Get your essays published! Many departments have undergrad journals you can publish in. This will ensure more people read about the women you write about and will demonstrate to the department that people like learning about women

Consider trying to publish your undergrad essay with a legit peer-reviewed journal. If you can do it, your use of female-written secondary sources boosts the reputations of the women who wrote those secondary sources. Also this helps generally to increase scholarship about women’s writing!

Present your papers at conferences! Many schools have their own undergraduate/departmental conferences that you can present at. Push yourself by submitting to outside conferences. Bring attention to women’s works by presenting your papers. Take a space at a conference that would otherwise be reserved for mediocre men

Talk to your profs and/or your department and/or your university about mandating the inclusion of female works in classes if this isn’t something they do already

Sit next to other women in your classes. Talk to them. Make friends. Form study groups. Proofread each other’s essays. Give each other knowing looks when the boys are being dumb. Just interact with other women! Build those female networks!

Be generous with your compliments. A female classmate and I were talking to a prof after class and the classmate told me (out of the blue) that I always have such interesting things to say. I think about that whenever I’m lacking confidence about my academic skills. Compliment the women in your classes for speaking up, for sharing their opinions, for challenging your classmates/profs, for doing cool presentations, etc.

Talk to other women about sexist things going on on campus. Make everyone aware of the sexist profs. Complain about how there are many more tenured men than tenured women. Go on rate my professor and be explicit about how the sexist profs are sexist

Be active on campus and in societies. If a society has an all male executive or is male-dominated, any women who join that society make it less intimidating for more women to join. Run for executive positions! Bring in more women! 

(Pro tip: Many societies’ elections are super gameable. You can be eligible to vote in a society election sometimes just by being a student at that university — even without having done anything with the society before. Other societies might just require that you’ve taken a class in a particular department or attended a society event. (Check the society’s governing documents.) Use those female networks you’ve been building. If you can bring three or four random people to vote for you, that might be enough for you to win. Societies have trouble meeting quorum (the minimum number of people in attendance to do votes) so it is really super achievable to rig an election with a few friends. And don’t feel bad about this. The system is rigged against women so you have every right to exploit loopholes!)

(Also feel free to go vote “non-confidence”/“re-open election” if only shitty men are running. Too often people see that only candidates they don’t like are running and so they give up. But you can actually stop them getting elected)

Your campus may have a LGBTQIA+alphabetsoup society. That society definitely needs more L and B women representation. It may be tedious to argue with the nb straight dudes who insist that it’s fine to use “q***r” in the society’s posters and that attraction has nothing to do with genitals, but just imagine what could happen if we could make these sorts of societies actually safe spaces for same-sex attracted women and advocated for our concerns

Attend random societies’ election meetings. Get women elected and peace out. (or actually get involved but I’m trying to emphasize the lowest commitment option with this one)

Write for the campus newspaper. Write about what women are doing - women’s sports, cool society activities, whatever. Review female movies, books, tv shows, local theatre productions. Write about sexism on campus. We need more female by-lines and more stories about women

Get involved with your campus’s sexual assault & r*pe hotline/sexual assault survivor’s centre/whatever similar organization your campus has if you can. This is hard work and definitely not for everyone (pls take care of yourself first, especially if you are a survivor)

(If your campus doesn’t have an organization for supporting survivor’s of sexualized violence, start one! This is probably going to be a lot of hard work though, so don’t do it alone)

Talk to your student council about providing free menstrual hygiene products on campus if your campus doesn’t already do this. If your campus provides free condoms (which they probs do), use that as leverage (ie. ‘sex is optional, menstruation is not. so why do we have free condoms and no free pads?’)

If you’re an older student, get involved with younger students (orientation week and such activities are good for this). Show the freshman that you can be a successful and well-liked woman without shaving your legs, wearing heels, wearing make-up, etc. Mentor these young women. Offer to go for coffee or proofread essays. 

Come to class looking like a human being. Be visibly make-up less, unshaven, unfeminine, etc. to show off the many different ways of being a woman

Talk to the custodial staff and learn their names. (I know there are men who work in this profession, but it is dominated by low-income women) Say hi in the hallways, ask them about their lives, show them they’re appreciated

Be explicit with your language. When you are talking about sex-based oppression, say it. Don’t say ‘sex worker’ when you mean survivor of human trafficking. This tip is obviously a bit tricky in terms of overt TERFyness, so use your best judgement

That’s all from me for now! Feel free to add your suggestions and remember that feminism is about action

[shuadotcom]

Stuck | MYG (1)

› Summary: When Min Yoongi’s parents arrange for him to marry their top business competitor’s daughter, he’s less than thrilled, but being the filial son he is, he does what his parents ask to keep the business successful. You’re much less receptive to the news, and it takes your parents threatening your fortune to get you to go along with it. As expected, things between you and Yoongi go from bad to worse. It only takes half a year before it all comes to a head, leaving you both exhausted, heartbroken, and unsure of how to pick up the pieces.

› Pairing: Yoongi x Female!Reader (nicknamed Peach)

› Genre: Angst, arranged marriage au, chaebol au

› Rating: NC-17 (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

› Words: 11.2k

› Warnings: Profanity, alcohol consumption, implied sex, lots of arguing amongst married couples, toxic parents( (especially Y/n’s mom), Yoongi is mean and pretty slut shamey, Y/n slaps Yoongi once

› A/N: This is part 1 of 2 of my part in the Sons of Midas collab. It took much longer than I would’ve liked to finish, but it’s finally here!!!! Part 2 is being outlined as we speak and will be out... soon 😳

Thank you soooo much to @bangtanhome​ and @oftenderweapons​ for being my wonderful betas. Ily both and you helped me so much to get this right, more than you know! 💛💛

PART 2

Min Yoongi is a lot of things. He’s practically a genius - his friend Namjoon’s IQ aside. Namjoon is book smart, but Yoongi is just as intelligent and doesn’t do half the dumb things he does. He’s talented, being able to play multiple instruments flawlessly, just because he loves music. He’s handsome, which isn’t just him boosting his ego. Anyone with working eyes can see that he belongs on the cover of GQ (which could very well be in his future if the business card he received from a publisher of the magazine is any indication).

The list of his positive attributes goes on, but he wouldn’t call himself committed. Determined, sure. Ambitious, absolutely. But committed in the relationship sense? No.

Being the son of one of the top electronic companies in South Korea makes dating hard for many reasons. Yoongi is usually working most of the time, and when he’s not, he prefers to be home, taking time to himself. That’s not to say he doesn’t go on casual dates, but those are usually just that: casual. The girls he meets are usually wealthy and lack the substance of a woman he requires, or if they’re not wealthy, they make it clear that they only want him for his status and fortune.

He does not commit, which is why when the words “arranged to be married” slip from his father’s lips, he can only stare back, slack-jawed.

“I’m sorry?” Yoongi asks, wanting to make sure he heard correctly.

“This industry is all about strategy. If we want to stay on top of things, we need to make moves, and if that means-”

“I have to marry a total stranger,” Yoongi interrupts with an attitude in his voice. One look from his father though, has him clearing his throat and apologizing for his outburst.

“As I was saying, if that means us having to adjust things in our personal lives to stay ahead of the industry, then so be it.” His father finishes. Yoongi should’ve known his parents’ sudden call for an impromptu lunch would be for something more than simply “catching up.”

“Besides,” his mother chimes in, “she’s not a stranger. It’s the daughter of SK International; Y/n. You’ve met and spoken with her numerous times.”

This is true. Yoongi knows very well who you are. Y/l/n Y/n. Better known in their circle simply as Peach. You’re an example of the women that Yoongi tends to stay away from. Wealthy, superficial, and extremely extroverted. He always hears through the rumor mill about you at the latest events and parties with a different date on your arm each time.

There’d been a time where he wanted to ask you out but decided you’re much too high-maintenance for him. That, and the fact that you had a brief stint with Namjoon. It wasn’t serious, but Yoongi wasn’t partial to his friends’ seconds, so he quickly abandoned the idea of getting involved with you. (This doesn’t stop him from looking at pictures of you that pop up on social media or online. You may be problematic, but you’re also attractive)

“I see,” is all Yoongi says, picking at the steak in front of him.

“I knew you’d understand. We want to do this quickly so I can finish getting the contracts written up. Sometime within the next month at least. Your mother has already been working with Y/n’s family and a wedding planner who’s taking care of everything.” Yoongi’s father speaks with such casualty as if he isn’t discussing signing his son away.

Yoongi stays quiet and nods the whole time, humoring his mother’s excited expression with artificial smiles of his own.

“Are you fucking serious?!” You screech for what seems like the eighth time.

“Y/n, I will only tell you once more to watch your tone with me.” Your mom warns, her tone as authoritative as usual, even over video chat.

“I’m sorry, but how can I watch my tone?! You just told me you’re signing my life away to someone I don’t even know!”

“I am not signing you away, don’t be so dramatic. And you know Min Yoongi, remember?”

Of course, you remember him. Min Yoongi is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen, and you’ve seen plenty. Last year you wanted so badly to ask him out during a gala that you don’t even remember the purpose of. You’d had your eye on him for months, but you admittedly chickened out at the last minute. As good-looking as Yoongi is, he’s also just as intimidating. Those sharp, intense eyes had you tucking your tail and fleeing to hook up with the son of a smaller tech start-up instead. (You unapologetically thought of Yoongi the whole time)

Knowing who Yoongi is doesn’t overcome the thought of being married. You! Married?! Marriage is the furthest thing from your mind, let alone having a marriage arranged for you. You’ve had plenty of relationships, but none of them stuck around enough to entertain the thought of marriage and that’s completely okay with you. You don’t want to be married. You want to live in your cute apartment with all of your belongings and enjoy a good fuck in any room you want by someone new each time. This is the worst news you’ve received in a long time.

“I don’t care who it is. I don’t want to be anyone’s wife. What if I refuse?”

“Oh, that’s not an option,” your mom chuckles. “If you want to keep leeching off of me, you’ll marry Yoongi next month and you’ll like it.”

“Great, I can’t wait to marry a man that doesn’t actually care about me and would rather send me on extravagant vacations so he doesn’t have to deal with me.” You bite back, not caring how much of a low blow that was. You’re only growing increasingly agitated as this conversation goes on.

Your mom shoots you a look through the screen that has you shrinking back, but only a little.

“As I said Y/n, you don’t have a choice. You will be getting married next month. My assistant will be in touch with you with the details of your dress fitting and any other appointments the planner comes up with.”

“But-”

“Goodbye.” And with that, the video call ends, leaving you staring at your own angry expression on the black screen.

You let out a frustrated scream and plop back onto your bed. You force away the tears that prick at the backs of your eyes and try to think of any possible ways you can get out of this marriage.

After closing your eyes and coming up with nothing, you fall asleep, only to wake up later. The realization that you’re getting married in a month still weighs heavy on you as you mentally give up. Your mom always wins and this will be no different.

You had a Western wedding, per your mother’s choice. She claims it’s much chicer and on-trend.

Normal weddings look like so much work in the movies. Lots of running around and picking out flowers and plates and dresses. There’s always rehearsal dinners and bachelorette parties and then some kind of drama with the cake or the guests.

You don’t have to deal with any of that. Your mom’s assistant and hired wedding planner tackle everything. The only real appointment you have is the dress fitting, which you at least get to pick, then your hair and makeup the day of. You have no input on the flowers or the venue, which is a stale church your mom took you to all of once when you were little.

In the time leading up to the big day, you do your best to act as though nothing major is happening to anyone that isn’t in your close group of friends. Swan, Honey, and Candy, the closest of everyone you know, are nice enough to let you cry about it over video calls and in the group chat. Otherwise, you keep it to yourself and live your life as normal. The more you dwell on it, the more it gnaws at your mind.

After watching your parents in their loveless marriage for more than 35 years, the thought of ending up in a similar situation haunts you more than you’ll ever admit. Your parents are distant from each other and as a result, they’ve kept you at arm’s length all your life.

You try to text Yoongi a few times to get to know him more before this life change, but he is as cold over a text message as he often was anytime you’ve seen him. All you can do is hope you don’t end up in the same downward spiral that your parents are going through.

It isn’t until the day of the wedding that you finally see Min Yoongi in person after at least a year. He’s still as handsome as ever. Soft-looking dark hair that’s swept out his face, showcasing his beauty. Dark, sharp eyes that calculate you as you walk down the aisle towards him, and a black suit that he got tailored to perfectly fit his smaller, yet fit frame.

He gives you an artificial smile when you finally reach the altar that you expertly return, just as stale. The pastor immediately launches into the vows as you zone out, eyes scanning the room. You don’t recognize anyone in the pews except yours and Yoongi’s parents. Your mom’s assistant told you it would only be business people and the media. The press was told that you and Yoongi wanted to keep things small, which is why it was so quick with a “select” guest list.

For the rest of the ceremony, you operate on auto-pilot and the day carries on in a blur. You feel like you’re in a daze, only really coming to at the end of the day when you’re locked in the bathroom.

You married Min Yoongi. You’re now married. Legally, you are someone’s wife. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks as you feel panic start to grip your throat and tears well in your eyes. Try as you might, you can’t stop the sobs that slip out, only hoping no one hears you.

The next three months of being Min Yoongi’s wife are filled with frustration, to say the very least. To the outside world, you’re the perfect couple, but that can’t be further from the truth.

Both you and Yoongi’s parents make you move into a new penthouse apartment together. Since you’re now a married couple, you need to be seen as such, according to them, therefore you can’t live separately.

You put up as much of a fight that you can with your mom, which you of course lose, so you end up away from your luxury yet cozy, one-bedroom apartment that you decorated yourself, to a cold, almost clinical two-bedroom apartment that resembles an unlived showroom floor display.

Yoongi continually makes it obvious that he’s not happy. He barely speaks to you, and when he does it’s always an argument over something insignificant. The first week of living together, he bites your head off over not wiping up a splash of your coffee on the counter. The week after that, you get into an argument because you don’t pick up the mail that has his name on it from the mailroom, choosing only to grab yours. Which, in your defense, you simply forget about. You’ve been so used to getting mail for one that it slips your mind. You make sure he knows just how dumb he is before you storm out to meet a few friends at the bar.

Each day that ticks by is essentially nothing but a copy and paste of this. You either argue over trivial things around the apartment, avoid each other at all costs by going out with your friends to try and live a tiny resemblance of what your life was like before you became Mrs. Min, or stay holed up in your room.

Your room is the only place in the apartment where you get to be alone and in your own space. It’s also the only area of the apartment that you get to put any of your own tastes into. Your mom may have forced her choice of paint and furniture into it, but you at least can hang up artwork that you enjoy and cover the new bed in your own choice of linen.

The room is clearly the intended master bedroom with the king-sized bed, massive closet, and attached bathroom, but on day one of being married, Yoongi immediately retreated to what is most likely the guest room and stays only in there, so he makes his solo lodging decision early on.

This is fine with you. If you have to be trapped in a marriage with a man that doesn’t love you, at least you don’t have to sleep in the same bed as him.

You go through the days with no desire to see what’s in Yoongi’s room until one night. You were celebrating Honey, one of your closest friends, finally being back in Korea, so you’re rightfully a little more than tipsy when you get home. As soon as you’re through the front door, you hear the sounds of a piano playing through the apartment.

After spending a few minutes in the foyer simply standing and taking in the sound, you snap out of it and ungracefully tiptoe through the apartment to the source, heels in hand. Yoongi’s bedroom door is open wide enough for you to peek around the corner to see him seated in front of a keyboard in the corner of his room.

It’s the only real personal object in his otherwise empty bedroom that only has basic furniture in it. You spy stacks of books on his dresser and some notebooks, but not much else makes the room seem very lived in.

Yoongi is lost in the music with his eyes closed and a small, focused pout on his pink lips. His long fingers fly across the keys and his head bobs as he goes. This is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen Yoongi in any of the times you’ve seen the man. You don’t miss the way your heart jumps, just a tiny bit at how soft and calm the usually rude man looks. It’s clear he loves music as he loses himself in the melodies he’s playing.

Closing your eyes, you stand there and enjoy the music for a little while longer. If you associate the sweet sounds with the quiet, introverted version of Yoongi you knew of before you were married, it’s not hard to feel the crush that you originally pushed deep down creep back up.

Seeing him like this gives you an idea of how to possibly get through to the man you’re married to in hopes of building even a semblance of a positive relationship with him.

Yoongi equates his time being a married man to feeling trapped. Having to up and leave the apartment he has known and loved for the past few years only to move into one that he had no say in how it looks or where it’s located (of course it’s the halfway point between family companies) makes him miserable.

From the moment he walks in, everything just feels so fake, and wrong. The furniture looks different, feels, and even smells different.

It only takes a quick survey of the bedrooms to see which one is intended to be the shared master. He decides against this by deciding to live in the “guest room” and claiming it as his own.

Is he being moderately childish? Yes. Does he care? No.

Being entangled with you likely has its own set of drama that comes along with it, and having lived the calmest life as is possible for the son of a CEO, he’s not happy about that being disrupted. Maybe one day you’ll get a little more mature and you and Yoongi can even become friends.

Besides, you immediately get back to your own life soon after the wedding and are gone at all hours of the day with your friends, and likely other romantic partners, so what does it matter that Yoongi keeps to himself in his bedroom? If you want to live your way, he’ll do the same.

When he isn’t roped into pointless arguments with you due to the smallest inconveniences, he spends the next three months keeping to himself, working or playing music. He’s found that if he can stay away from you, there won’t be a need to get into a screaming match over him forgetting to lock the front door or not asking if you wanted anything from the store (which is ridiculous since you have a housekeeper that does the grocery shopping anyway).

Three months is a long time for someone to avoid speaking to the person they live with, let alone are married to, but Yoongi does a pretty good job, until one day when he comes home after a long day at the office.

He drops his bag and shoes by the door and shuffles into the kitchen to fix himself a drink.

With a tumbler of whiskey in hand, he collects his things and makes his way to his bedroom. The apartment is surprisingly quiet, but he knows you’re home because he can see the light emanating from your bedroom down the hall.

He’s ready to flop onto his bed and enjoy his drink when he sees a neatly wrapped box sitting in front of his bedroom door. Yoongi opens the door and slides the box in gently before setting down his drink and his bag and picking the box up.

Typically, when he gets mail he’s notified that he needs to pick it up in the mailroom or the housekeeper will tell him, so he’s curious about the box. After untying the white ribbon he shimmies the top off and digs through the tissue paper. Underneath the paper is what appears to be a miniature grand piano made of black wood. Yoongi picks it up, noticing the weight of it, and is further confused until he finds the silver knob on the back.

He turns the knob, which makes the tiny piano begin to play a classical tune that he’s unfamiliar with, but sounds beautiful playing through the room. A smile creeps onto Yoongi’s face as he further admires the music box, noting that his initials are carved onto the bottom. He moves to dig through the box and finds a folded note with a peach emblem on the front.

It’s not weird if spouses get each other wedding gifts right? I saw this and thought of the beautiful music you make. I hope you like your piano partner :) - Peach

There’s a smile on Yoongi’s face as he reads your note. He had been sure he only played piano when you were out, and the idea of you hearing him has a blush creeping up his neck, but your gift also flatters him. He was so sure you hated his guts, yet you got him a present, just because.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi gently places the music box on his dresser and heads for your room, intending to properly thank you. When he pokes his head into your room, you don’t notice him, as your head is quite literally buried in a thick book in your hands.

Yoongi is taken aback by your appearance. He’s used to seeing you in tight dresses and small skirts, face full of makeup and accessories lining your arms and neck. The Peach he sees is different.

You’re cross-legged on your bed in black sweatpants and a light pink, oversized hoodie. Round glasses are perched on the brim of your nose and large headphones sit on your ears. He watches as a range of emotions flutters across your face, ranging from shock to anger, to happiness. His eyes flicker towards the floor next to your bed, seeing three hefty stacks of books, almost falling over from being haphazardly stacked.

You look like a completely different person and though it’s only a fleeting thought, he briefly notes how beautiful you look. You look like Y/n, not Peach, the party girl that everyone knows. The thought of seeing you privately from the outside world makes Yoongi’s heart jump.

He decides to leave you to your book and quietly heads back to his bedroom, deciding to thank you later. He also decides he needs to return the favor for you and starts to think up a gift to get you that he hopes you’ll like as much as he likes his gift.

Yoongi’s been so busy with work all week, that you haven’t had much time to see him, so you’re dying to know what he thinks of his gift. He surely has it, as the next morning after leaving it in front of his door, you saw that the box was gone. It wasn’t in the trash or any other room, so he must have kept it.

Your question is answered when you get home the next night after a self-care day and turn the light on in your room. You jump at first when you see the new armchair in the corner of the room, cautiously going over to inspect it.

It’s wide and looks to be made of thick, dark-washed wood. The seat is nook-like and the cushions are rose gold-colored and plush, made of some of the most comfortable fabric you’ve ever touched. The seat, backrest, and both sides are padded with this pillowy material. The real appeal of the chair is the fact that the structure of it is a bookshelf, all the way around it. You spot your book collection placed into the chair on every shelf, so when sitting, you simply need to reach over and grab a book to read.

You see a folded paper on one of the armrests and eagerly reach for it to read.

Slouching over your books on your bed is bad posture. Enjoy your reading in comfort and take care of yourself. - Yoongi

The way your heart flutters upon reading the note is ridiculous, but it feels good to know that Yoongi seems to like your gift enough to give you one in return. You can’t help but flop into the chair, sinking in and letting the cushions form to your body. You reach an arm over one of the armrests and pluck a book from the shelf, loving the convenience and the comfort of the chair.

You make a mental note to thank Yoongi as soon as he gets home and maybe start the work towards building something with him.

As luck would have it, you end up curling into yourself and falling asleep in your new chair. Yoongi catches sight of you like this later that night when he comes home, smiling so widely that he’s glad you didn’t see. He tiptoes into your room and places the throw hanging on your computer chair over you, making sure not to disturb you. He’s relieved you like the gift and he tells himself he’ll take the time to thank you properly tomorrow.

The next morning marks the beginning of the first string of pleasant interactions between you and Yoongi. Yoongi calls over a personal chef he’s used before to make breakfast for you, so when you finally stumble into the kitchen, you’re left standing in the entryway to gape at the spread on the dining room table. Yoongi’s sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone but puts it down as soon as he sees you.

“Hey, good morning.” He offers you what you’re pretty sure is his first smile in your direction.

“Good morning,” you smile back.

“I asked my chef to make us a nice breakfast. I wanted to do something nice and uh, thank you for the music box. It’s lovely.”

You have to keep yourself from gaping at the fact that Min Yoongi is not only being nice, but he also thanked you and has done another nice thing for you.

“Thank you too, for the chair. I love it a lot.”

Yoongi flushes at your words, looking away bashfully. It’s awkward between the two of you until Yoongi gestures to the table. You both sit, still silent as you begin placing rice and fish onto your plate.

Only the soft sounds of chewing are heard for a while longer until you decide to break the silence, asking Yoongi how he got into playing the piano. As if a switch flips in him, Yoongi’s eyes light up, and he dives into his background and how he fell in love with the piano after his parents forced him to go to a symphony when he was young. He hated it at first, but when the orchestra began playing, especially the pianist, Yoongi was transfixed and immediately begged for lessons.

“Simpler times in my life too, I suppose,” he shrugs, stuffing a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “What about you? I never really thought I’d see the great Peach with her nose buried in a book.”

“The majority of people I know don’t even think I can say the alphabet, let alone read entire novels.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “My nanny when I was young used to read to me every night for as long as I can remember. The way she read was always full of emotion and very involved for a bedtime story for a toddler, but it made me love it. She also taught me how to read and eventually I was reading all the time, well at least whenever my mom wasn’t forcing me to go to events and all that. It’s my only real hobby outside of like… going out.”

Yoongi nods, offering a look of understanding. “Yeah, my father let me take piano lessons, but it was always an unimportant hobby to him. If it isn’t about the business, it doesn’t matter.”

“Ugh, don’t get me started! I feel like my mom has said some shit like that to me before. She’s never admitted it outright, but I know she just wants to parade me around for the paparazzi so people will know and remember the business; it’s been like that since I was a teenager.” Yoongi gives you a frown in response, but you wave it off. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. I’m just waiting until I can take over the company and do what I want with it.”

“We definitely have that in common.” Yoongi smiles at you, making your stomach flip yet again. It’s a little embarrassing how easily he can make you feel giddy, but you do your best not to let it show. This is the first time a conversation between you and Yoongi didn’t turn into a screaming match, so you remain as casual as possible.

That breakfast is the open door that you both need to begin to feel more comfortable with one another. That morning is spent with the two of you going back and forth about how exhausting being an heir is and snippets of how equally exhausting both of your parents are. You and Yoongi may be different in many ways, but you both share the same burden of over-controlling, never-around parents.

After that morning, Yoongi finds himself seeking you out more for conversation and vice versa. You eat more meals together, and eventually, a month has gone by and he’s texting you on nights that he’s coming home late from the office, asking what you want him to pick up for dinner.

You wish each other good morning and good night every day and offer one another genuine smiles. At some point, you catch yourself thinking about Yoongi when you’re not together and vice versa. He’s even initiated movie nights at home with you and the more public events you go to, the more his hands on your arm or lower back don’t feel so forced.

Yoongi, being the usually stoic man that he is, even feels comfortable enough to show extreme emotion with you. When Jimin, one of his best friends, tells him that Jungkook’s mother, another one of his best friends, was in a car accident and is in the hospital, he panics. He receives the news one day when you’re watching tv together, and you know something is wrong as soon as he answers the phone.

After he hangs up, he tells you what’s going on and that he needs to get to the hospital. Yoongi’s frazzled and rushes around the apartment as if he doesn’t know where anything is. You finally get up from the couch and grab him by the shoulders as he’s about to pace the hallway for the third time.

“Hey, I need you to calm down, okay? Just grab your bag and your keys.”

“I - yeah okay.” Yoongi turns to go into his room but stops to look back at you. “Can you, um, come to the hospital with me?”

You’re caught off guard, but agree nonetheless and head to your room to get dressed. The ride is silent, and Yoongi’s on edge the entire time, even as you stop to grab flowers. He finally relaxes when you get to the hospital with him and he sees his friends and Jungkook’s mom. You give your hellos to everyone, only knowing them a little, except for Namjoon who you know much too well. You smile at him and he returns it, very half-heartedly which isn’t a surprise given how much of a near recluse he’s become, but you don’t dwell on it. You’re here for Yoongi and Yoongi only.

That night, once you’re back home, and Yoongi’s much calmer, the two of you end up falling asleep on the couch together, not touching, but sharing the same blanket, which in itself is a feat.

A month and a half of peace goes by with no fights and no animosity in the apartment, which both you and Yoongi are thankful for. You’ve found yourself feeling much more zen in your everyday life.

Your phone rings when you’re neck-deep in the newest young adult novel you’ve ordered, disrupting your evening. You sigh, placing your bookmark in the book and answer it, seeing it’s your mom and rightfully bracing yourself.

“Hi, mom.”

“Wow, don’t sound so thrilled to speak to your mother.”

You take a deep breath, refusing to take the obvious argument bait. “I was just reading, that's all.”

“Is that what your time has been dedicated to? Is that why you look the way you do recently?”

“What?” You gape

“I saw a photo of you online from the Louis Vuitton event you and Yoongi attended last weekend. He looks as handsome as always, but Y/n, what on Earth is going on with you?”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with me?!”

“Oh come on, Y/n. It’s obvious how much weight you’ve put on. And who did your makeup? Your foundation looks awful.”

“Did you just call me to be rude to me?!” The anger that your mom usually causes you bubbles up, and you don’t notice how hard you’re gritting your teeth.

“It’s not rude, it’s criticism. And you should hear it from me before anyone on the internet.” She says casually.

“Are you sure? You sound like just as much of an asshole as people on the internet.”

“First of all, watch your mouth when you speak to me. Second of all, as I said, it’s criticism whether you like it or not. Besides, someone has to tell you so you can match Yoongi. We can’t have the future CEO of SK Min Electronics International walking around with an ugly wife now can we?”

There aren’t enough words to describe the flurry of emotions her words make you feel, but her mention of Yoongi as the CEO stops you. “What do you mean ‘future CEO’? I’m taking over SK International.”

Your mom chuckles in response and you hear the yipping of her dogs in the background. “Oh, Y/n, what? Did we not tell you? Your father and I decided we’d just merge the companies completely and have Yoongi lead the one, mega-company.”

“You can’t just make me not the heir anymore!” You jump up from the couch and begin pacing in irritation.

“We can and we did. Besides, you haven’t really shown that you can handle being CEO. I mean, before the marriage, you know very well that all of the articles published about you showed you out at another club or bar. And Y/n, the rumors about you and all the partners you’ve had are too much for you to be the CEO of the family business. Maybe you can start a makeup or clothing line instead.”

You’re silent as she prattles on with you barely listening. This phone call morphed from casual verbal abuse to news of your future completely changing from what you knew it would be for the past twenty or so years.

At some point, your mom decides she’s tired of speaking at you and says goodbye, barely waiting for you to respond. You sink back onto the couch, mind still reeling. It’s not the first time she’s nitpicked the way you look or behaved, but it’s the first time in a long time that it’s been so cruel and you let it get to you. Not to mention the fact that you will no longer inherit your family’s company.

Her sharp words keep replaying in your head and you eventually end up in a heap on the couch, sobbing. Yoongi finds you there after work and you’re surprised when he comes over to rub reassuring circles on your back and shoulders.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” He asks. Through teary eyes, you meet his gaze, seeing true concern. You’ve come a long way in the short time you’ve been married to Yoongi, and to have him here comforting you has to mean something right?

“My mom… she’s just… she just said some terrible things to me, as usual.” You sniffle, forcing a smile on your face. Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder tightens, almost protectively.

“Well, you don’t have to tell me what she said if you don’t want to, but I’m sorry.”

You blink at him, trying to make sure you heard him right. Yoongi apologized to you. He’s never said sorry to you. Sure, it wasn’t an apology for something he did, but it has to be a start.

Sitting so close to him for a few seconds longer gives you ample time to admire how soft his lips look.

Unsure if it’s the onslaught of emotions rushing through you, you lean up before you can talk yourself out of it and press your lips to Yoongi’s. You can confirm that his lips are as soft as they look.

Unfortunately, the moment is cut short when Yoongi pulls away harshly, pushing you back in the process.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” It’s at this moment that you realize the work you’ve put in to bridge the gap between the two of you is for not as Yoongi shoots you an intensely deep frown, similar to ones he’s given you before you had reached a truce.

“Sorry! Sorry I couldn’t help it but… Yoongi, we’ve gotten a lot closer lately, and we’re married. What do you say we go out maybe? Give this a real chance?” A voice in the back of your head is telling you this is a bad idea, but you’re not listening, too overcome with emotions.

“No.”

“Yoongi, come on, we-”

“I said no!” He snaps. “Did you forget that this is essentially a fake marriage? We’re not some happily wed couple. We’re not together!”

He’s right, but hearing the amount of venom in his voice when he says it still stings.

Pushing the hurt down, you quickly replace it with anger and pull yourself up quickly from the couch. “Alright, I get it! No need to be a fucking asshole!”

“Well, maybe that’ll make you remember it next time you throw yourself at me like you just did.” His change back to the asshole you knew, has you immediately on guard.

“Oh, give me a break I did not throw myself at you. I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have done that without consent.”

“As if someone like you would get my consent.”

You scoff. “Okay, asshole, fucking forget it. With such a shitty attitude, it’s not like you get women asking to be with you anyway.”

“Why, because I don’t go out every night fucking anything that moves?” He shoots back.

“You know what Yoongi, fuck you, okay? I don’t know why I thought things were getting better.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you did either. This is still a fucking nightmare.”

“Wow. Okay, I’m done. You make me sick.” You spin on your heel, stomping down the hallway with your room in mind.

“The feeling is mutual!” Yoongi calls at your retreating back, always needing to have the last word.

You slam your door behind you, immediately crumpling to the ground, sobbing into the plush carpet. First dealing with your mom, then having Yoongi be just as nasty, is all too much. You didn’t expect him to be in love with you, but you like to think you were growing closer to him the past two months, even having your old feelings resurface, only for him to trample over those without hesitation.

You had grown to know him as more than an arrogant, nasty tyrant. He could be sweet, funny, thoughtful, and enjoyable to be around. This Yoongi, the cold and mean one though, you thought was finally gone. You were wrong.

Letting yourself wallow for much longer than you should, you finally pull yourself off the floor. Mascara stained and face hot, you stare at your reflection and are filled with a sense of anger. Angry at your mom for treating you like shit your whole life and angry at Yoongi for treating you like shit for months and angry at yourself for crying over them both.

With a renowned sense of determination, you stomp to the bathroom for a shower and decide that if you can’t get appreciation from the people closest to you, you’ll find it elsewhere.

It only takes you an hour to get dolled up and into one of your shortest, tightest dresses. You shoot a text to the group chat with your friends, only to find out that they’re all busy for the night. While you could invite any of your other contacts, you decide not to bother and go alone. The attention you’ll receive will be the same either way.

Yoongi’s bedroom door is shut and the apartment is silent when you leave, but you don’t care. When your driver pulls up, minutes after you step outside, you have him take you to a nearby bar that you frequent enough that the bodyguards and bartenders all know you.

This is proven by a simple wave at the door and you’re let inside. You receive the same treatment at the bar, the small crowd surrounding it immediately parting to allow you to sit as the bartender working immediately comes over and places a rum and coke in front of you.

“Hey beautiful,” A voice immediately murmurs from next to you. Flirtatiously, you turn to the voice, seeing a handsome face smiling at you.

“Hi there,” you purr, and the man takes this as his cue to take the seat next to you.

“Peach, right?”

“Mmhmm.” You offer out your hand and the stranger smirks, taking your hand and placing a kiss on top.

“Wonwoo. It’s great to finally meet you in person, Peach. Are you as sweet as your name suggests?” He flashes you a wide smile that you find extremely charming.

“Buy me another drink and you just might find out.” You wink. He immediately calls over the bartender, ordering “whatever you’re drinking now” and asking him to keep them coming as long as you’d like.

You offer Wonwoo a genuine smile, acutely aware of the eyes of other people in the bar locked on you, and your earlier trouble at home is just that easily forgotten.

Yoongi is an idiot. He’s a huge fucking jerk. He keeps telling himself this all night after you disappear into your bedroom after your argument.

The argument that he admits he started.

He shouldn’t have taken the tiring day he had out on you. His father spent the day talking over every decision Yoongi tried to make, denying him any room to contribute in any of the many meetings they had to sit in. When he confronted him about it at the end of the night, he excused it with him not feeling as though Yoongi was knowledgeable enough, which led to some heated words and Yoongi storming out to go home.

When you kissed him, the way he reacted was wrong. He should have told you that he felt that things were complicated and that it’s better if you don’t get into a relationship right now. He’d be lying if he said getting close to you for nearly two months hasn’t had the earlier crush he harbored on you ease its way back into his heart.

But, he can’t be with you like that. How your relationship started is under false pretenses, and he doesn’t even know how to process his feelings. Not to mention he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to look past the relationship you and Namjoon had. It’s too much for him to try and dissect, so he’s opting not to get into that with you.

That’s not to say it’s what he wants. What he wanted earlier was to grab you and pull you into his arms. He wanted to grasp your face in his hands and let his lips collide with yours, and then maybe, just maybe, take you on the couch of your shared apartment.

He didn’t do this. Instead, he said things he shouldn’t have and sent the wedge that had eased its way out from between the two of you, back in with a vengeance.

After you storm to your bedroom, Yoongi sulks into his room and absorbs himself into his computer, headphones on, and music turned up to drown out the way he’s cursing himself for being an absolute moron.

Eventually, with tired eyes and a headache from staring at the screen for so long, he takes his headphones off. With a glance at the time, he sees that he’s been focused on his computer for at least three hours. His mind flickers to you as he stands to stretch, and he thinks about apologizing and seeing if any form of amends can be made.

This idea quickly leaves him when he suddenly notices the sound of you in the distance. He holds his breath and walks to his closed door, pressing his ear to the wood to hear better.

“Oh fuck.”

That’s definitely a moan he hears coming from you.

Yoongi’s face heats up at the thought of you touching yourself only a few feet away from him. He knows he shouldn’t, but he opens his bedroom door and creeps into the hallway. Your door is half-open and he can hear you letting out more breathy moans.

He makes it halfway to your door when he hears a moan that mirrors yours. A distinctly male moan.

Yoongi can’t explain it, but he suddenly feels rage run rampant over him. The earlier fight aside, the fact that you brought home another person to fuck in the place he also lives in has him seeing red. As much as he doesn't take your marriage seriously, he never thought about sleeping with someone else in your home.

He’s bursting into your room before he can stop himself, causing you to shriek in surprise. You’re completely naked, mounted on the lap of a strange naked man in your bed and Yoongi has the urge to drag the man out by his head of dark hair.

“Yoongi,” you slur out, “what the fuck?” He watches as you fall to your side on the bed, having lost balance.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He practically roars and sees the man sit up quickly. He immediately recognizes him as someone he’s seen at plenty of his mother’s fancy dinners. Jeon Wonwoo, the son of one of the country’s biggest accounting companies, that Yoongi’s father happens to have a large stake in.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You sass and roll off of the bed, hands grasping for your dress on the floor.

Wonwoo does the same, eyes meeting Yoongi’s rage-filled ones as he hastily pulls up his underwear. “I - uh - she said you weren’t home.” He stammers.

“Well I’m standing right in front of you, aren’t I?” Yoongi grumbles. “And I suggest you get the fuck out of my house before I make a call to my father who’ll make sure your miserable life is ruined along with your family.”

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” Wonwoo bows furiously more times than Yoongi can count and scrambles out of the room, arms full of his clothes.

Once he’s gone, Yoongi turns his fiery gaze to you as you sway next to your bed, dress pulled on backward.

“What gives you the right to storm in here?!”

“This is my house! I live here too, or did all the alcohol give you sudden amnesia?”

“So what? I can do what I want in my house!”

“And that includes sleeping with strangers?! We’re married, remember?!”

You let out a frustrated scream, tugging at your dress. “Oh spare me! A few hours ago you told me this marriage means nothing to you and now you’re inserting yourself into my fucking business and trying to take charge of my personal life. That’s not how this works, Yoongi!”

You’re right and Yoongi knows it, but dammit he’s too stubborn to admit how jealous he is.

“That’s not the point! Do you know how disrespectful it is for you to bring some other person into the house that you share with the person you’re married to only to fuck them loud enough for the whole building to hear?!”

“You know what, I’m done with his conversation. Leave me alone, Yoongi. Stop talking to me, stop thinking about me, and stop existing around me!”

“Fine, I will! As a matter of fact, I’ll go ahead and exist in my own apartment away from you!”

“Great!”

With a final venomous look shared between the two of you, Yoongi storms to his room, immediately packing a bag of clothes, his laptop, and anything else he can get fit.

He throws a final glance at your now closed bedroom door before he’s out the front door and going to the parking garage to take his car and go back to his own apartment.

Yoongi is gone for three days before his assistant shows up with a mover to collect the rest of the things he left behind. He hadn’t brought much in the first place, so it doesn’t take long.

“Did he tell you not to tell me anything?” You ask his assistant flatly, watching as she grabs the last box of knick-knacks. You’d been badgering Tzuyu since she showed up early in the morning to try and tell you when Yoongi would come back, but she was tight-lipped and turned you down each time.

You follow her to the front door, asking once more, and she turns to face you before you can finish the question.

“For the last time, Peach, I can’t say. All I’ll tell you is that I’m bringing this all to his apartment now.” Tzuyu is out the door before you can prod her with any follow-up questions.

It only takes a couple of hours before you find out what Yoongi’s plan is when you get the screaming phone call from your mom.

“What did you do?!” Is the first thing you hear when you answer. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you put the call on speaker. You’ve been rummaging in the kitchen for a few minutes before she called.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why the hell did I just get a call from Yoongi’s mother telling me they may be following through with a divorce?!”

The word ‘divorce’ has you faltering, your hand completely falling limp as you almost drop the bag of cookies in hand.

“A divorce?”

“This could ruin the business, you know! A divorce after being married less than a year will look so incredibly messy!

For some reason, even after having the apartment be empty for days, and all his belongings being taken out, the true realization that he wasn’t coming back and wanted to end things with you hurt. You’re aware this makes you sound like a fool, given the way you’ve interacted with him for the majority of your time married, but with your roller coaster of emotions for him, you’re more disappointed than anything to hear that he just wants it to be over.

“Y/n! Have you heard anything I’ve said?!” Your mom shrieks particularly loud, bringing you back from your thoughts.

“What?”

“Damnit, Y/n! Where’s Yoongi now?” She hisses.

“Not here. Pretty sure he moved back into his old apartment after we fought a few days ago.”

“Well, you better fix this! Your next major event together will be Jeon Jungkook’s birthday party so figure it out then. Make sure he does not go through with this divorce! Do something right for once for fucks sake!” She hangs up after that, leaving you no room to say anything else.

Stress washes over you immediately to the point that it’s suffocating. If Yoongi divorces you, the companies will be negatively impacted, which will lead to you taking even more shit from your parents - your mom especially - and this thought both terrifies and exhausts you.

In the same breath, you don’t know if you want to continue with someone who can be as wishy-washy as Yoongi can. It’s clear he doesn’t have his feelings together, and you’ve only had a short amount of time together to try and get closer with him, which hasn’t been incredibly successful, and you don’t even know if you want to try.

As she said, Jungkook’s party is the last chance you two have to try and mend things to stop the divorce. This seems much easier said than done of course, but you're not sure how successful it’ll be when all you do is yell at one another. You don’t even want to call him, as you don’t see that turning out well and you’re not even sure he’ll answer your call. All you can do is collect your thoughts in preparation for when you’ll see him in a week.

Yoongi hates how anxious he feels to see you when you arrive. He’s been outside of the yacht where Jungkook’s birthday party is being held for only a few minutes before you. When he pulls up first, the waiting paparazzi hound him, throwing questions at him as to why his wife isn’t with him. He supplies them with a tale about how you told him to go first because you were running late from a dance class. He waves off any other questions and ignores them until your arrival.

He watches as one of your bare legs peeks out from the open car door, followed by the other, and then you. Your dress is a light shade of purple and clings to your curves from your chest to your hips, stopping right above your knees. The black heels you clack in over to him bring you and he nearly eye level.

He can barely take his eyes off you and the sound of the flashing cameras behind him signal that neither can anyone else. You stop in front of him, something unreadable in your eyes as you take in his fitted Armani suit.

You bring your arms up and around his neck while his arms go around your waist and pull you into him. The two of you have shown faux affection in public so many times that you both know without saying anything.

The hug is quick and you pull away to pose next to him for the cameras, a strained smile etched onto your face. He copies you, turning to the cameras, and offers waves and casual poses. You only take a few pictures, as he feels just how stiff you are next to him. You take his hand as you walk through the paparazzi, throwing smiles at them until you get to the dock where attendants are waiting next to smaller boats that will take you to the yacht itself.

Yoongi’s hand stays wrapped around yours as he helps you aboard then follows suit after you. You both offer a few more waves to the cameras until they’re far enough that you can’t see them.

The smile you had been wearing slips from your lips immediately as you let out a breath. Yoongi watches as your eyes fixate on the large boat ahead, not glancing at him again. He’s sure your mom has already berated you about the possibility of divorce, so he knows you need to talk.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but the night you had your big argument and he sped to his apartment, his mother called and he was so angry that he exploded, saying he was staying at his old apartment and that he didn’t care what she and his father wanted, but he was thinking of getting a divorce as soon as possible. He asked her not to tell anyone, but she of course did.

Your mom sent him an email a few days later, apologizing on your behalf. She assured him that married couples get into spats all the time and that you would be able to reconnect and settle any issues. Knowing your mom, he knew it was all fluff and that she was sucking up to him, but he was curious as to how you took the news.

The question continues to swirl in his mind as you step onto the yacht.

“Hyung!” Jungkook’s voice takes him from his thoughts and Yoongi waves as the younger man approaches. He is so focused on you, that he nearly forgot the reason he was here, which is to celebrate his friend.

“Hey, Jungkook. Happy birthday!” Yoongi pats his shoulder, his young friend beaming up at him.

“Thanks, Hyung.” He turns to you as you reach out for a quick hug.

“Happy birthday, Jungkook” are the first words he’s heard you utter all evening.

“Thank you, Noona! I’m glad you could both make it,” The tone in Jungkook’s voice suggests that he knows something is going on between you two. Yoongi sighs, knowing his mother must have taken the information about the divorce further than just your mom’s ears.

Yoongi narrows his eyes at Jungkook who simply shrugs. “Sorry, Hyung, I’ve gotta keep making the rounds to everyone, but I’ll talk to you later!”

Jungkook whisks himself away before Yoongi can try and question him further, which only serves to confirm his suspicions.

Setting that conversation aside, he turns to you, a flute of champagne already in hand. Yoongi frowns, seeing you easily knock it back. He remembers how your drinking tends to loosen you up, making you prone to speak without a filter as the flashbacks of quite a few arguments play in his mind. You should talk about things before you have too many more.

“Hey, Y/n, we need to talk.” Your eyes flicker up from your phone as you truly look at him for the first time.

“About how you want to divorce me?” The question tumbles out as if you’ve been bottling it up for much too long.

“Yeah, that. Look, I said it to my mom that night we had the big fight and I told her to keep it to herself, but I mean, there’s a reason she’s known as our circles’ gossip column.” Yoongi chuckles, but you don’t return the gesture.

“So, what, do you just want to talk about the terms of the divorce? I won’t take your money or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not why I’m bringing it up.” Yoongi says with too much attitude in his tone. You click your tongue at him and he shakes his head, taking a deep breath. He doesn’t know why talking to you always turns into a fight, but he does his best to stop himself. “What I mean is, she wasn’t supposed to blab to everyone. I’m not even sure if I want a divorce.”

“Of course, not. You can’t ever get your feelings together to talk to me about it.”

“Come on, Y/n, don’t be like this.” Yoongi feels his aggravation rise.

“Being like what? I’m tired of playing this game of emotional roulette with you. I feel like I never know the next thing you’re going to say to me at any given time we talk and it’s exhausting.”

“It’s not exactly fun for me!” He shoots back. Before you can answer, someone comes over and sweeps you into a conversation. Yoongi doesn’t know her personally, but he knows her name is Im Nayeon and that her family is one of the wealthiest in Korea - possibly even more so than both your families and a few other of his friends’. That’s why it’s in your best interest to entertain conversation with her.

She goes on for longer than Yoongi can keep track of and he isn’t even sure of what she’s talking about. Eventually, the three of you move to lean against a nearby railing as Nayeon is joined by her date and she continues going on about some trip she just got back from. As stealthily as he can, Yoongi eases his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through local news outlets and the updates he receives on his phone.

Everything is standard - stocks, new contracts, and mergers - all until he sees Jungkook’s name in a tabloid. The article mentions the name of Jungkook’s girlfriend in the title, and it doesn’t read like a particularly positive article about her and their relationship.

Yoongi scans the boat, looking for any sign of him.

“Right, Yoongi?” You call his name, elbowing him harshly in the side and making him jump.

“Huh?”

“I said, we’re still deciding where our first vacation as a married couple will be, right?”

“Oh yeah, right. Hey, I gotta go find Jungkook, okay? It was nice speaking with you, Nayeon.” He bows at the group before picking up the pace to find his friend. This wasn’t the best place and time to do this, admittedly, but if it was him, he’d want a friend to tell him this truth as soon as they found out.

He’d just talk to you later to clear things up and go from there.

You lose track of how many vodka and Red Bulls you’ve thrown back somewhere between five and six. You know Yoongi’s been off doing whatever he wants the entire time, but you don’t care. He’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not interested in pretending with you further than some fake photos and equally as fake smiles, so he can do what he wants at this point.

Any buried anticipation you had about seeing him died when he left you in the conversation you had been trapped in with Im Nayeon. You know your friends are around here somewhere, but you’re much too tired to be social anymore. Nayeon chatted your ear off about her wonderful, perfect little life enough to make you want to jump over the edge of the yacht, so you were all socialized out.

Your mind flickers to whatever it was Yoongi tried to talk to you about the divorce, but you push it away. It clearly wasn’t important enough for him to stick around.

Besides, the bar seems like a better place to be than talking about your feelings and how miserable you’ve been.

“Another,” You motion to the bartender. The woman arches her eyebrow at you and you return the expression. This is all it takes to have her taking your empty glass and moving on to prepare you a fresh one.

“You know, you are much too gorgeous to be sitting here drinking alone.” You glance to your left, seeing a man who looks vaguely familiar slide into the empty chair next to you.

“Oh yeah? So who should I be here drinking with?” You scoff in response, eyes focusing back on the bartender as she adds the comical splash of Red Bull to your mostly clear glass.

“Well, I know you’re married to Min Yoongi, but he’s nowhere to be seen, which means you must need some company.” You roll your eyes at him, hands reaching for your full glass when it slides in front of you.

You take a generous sip, the alcohol burning on the way down. “And you think I want your company?” You turn in your chair, finally facing the man head-on. Taking in his expensive suit, slicked-back black hair, and tall stature, even when sitting down, the name Hyungwon pops into your head. His father owns a chunk of banks in the country if you’re not mistaken. This also isn’t the first time he’s tried to pick you up either.

“Oh, I know you want my company. Most women do.” You let out a bitter laugh, taking another swig. A previous version of Peach would’ve eaten this egotistical act up. You would’ve given him back a witty response of your own and there would only be a short bit of banter before you let him fuck you in some nearby closet or secluded part of the boat.

The you of today only feels exhaustion and slight disgust. Something seems to have shifted about the way you see the men in the circle you run in, and whether it’s Yoongi’s fault or some self-actualization bullshit, you’re not sure, but you don’t have time for it at this moment.

Your third gulp empties your cup, Hyungwon’s eyes on you the whole time. You take a deep breath as you set the glass down and fix him with a look that’s as intimidating as you can muster. The panicked look in his eyes has you thinking it’s working, but the sound of a throat clearing behind you makes it clear it wasn’t you.

“Hyungwon.” Yoongi’s voice, as hard as stone, has you even going rigid in your seat.

“Yoongi.” Hyungwon mumbles in response. “I was just asking your wife if she, uh, got to see the birthday boy. I wanted to give him my wishes again.”

“Jungkook was just with me. He’s just gone I’m afraid.” Yoongi says simply.

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’ll have to send him a text. Well, thanks Yoongi. See you around. Have a good night Peach, er, I mean, Y/n.” Hyungwon nods at you both before all but sprinting away from the cold eyes of your “husband.”

“Wow,” Yoongi huffs as soon as Hyungwon is out of earshot. “You can’t go a single night without whoring yourself out can you?”

You choke on your spit at that, turning in your seat harshly to fix Yoongi with a glare. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

He returns your look with the same intensity. “You heard me. Embarrassing me in our home is one thing but in public? How do you not have any shame?”

“First of all, you absolute asshole, Hyungwon approached me.”

“Oh, so that makes it better?” Yoongi laughs bitterly. “I bet if I hadn’t shown up when I did you’d already have his dick down your throat for everyone to see.”

The sharp sound of your hand connecting with Yoongi’s cheek is loud and crisp, catching the attention of everyone nearby, but you don’t care.

“I’ve let you get away with saying a lot of fucked up shit to me throughout this entire marriage, and it stops now. You’re not the only one with mommy and daddy issues, but the difference between the two of us is I don’t use it as an excuse to be cruel. You’re rude and miserable and take your own shit out on everyone around you.”

“And the way you party your sad little life away and fuck anything that’ll have you is a great way of coping with your issues?”

“At least I don’t treat people like shit, you heartless prick!”

You and Yoongi are both breathing heavily, staring each other down with fire in your eyes.

“Now listen to me, you -”

“No, you listen to me, Min Yoongi. I’m not going to let you talk to me however you want to anymore. For the past six months, I’ve let you get away with a lot of shit, but no more. You can do whatever the fuck you need to do about this marriage, but I’m not about to try with some asshole who doesn’t care about me. I’m done.” You slide off of your seat, stumbling only a little on wobbly legs.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll do whatever I can about it whether my parents like it or not.”

“Good. Now, I’m going home so I don’t have to see your stupid fucking face anymore.” Your anger, having reached its peak only a few seconds ago, seems to be simmering down. That is until Yoongi decides to open his mouth again, to try and get the final word in.

“Try not to open your legs for anyone on the way home. I know how hard that is for you.”

Fists clenched and anger surfacing again, your eyes flicker to the full glass on the bar next to you. When did the bartender slip another drink to you?

You don’t think too much about it and instead reach for the glass, tossing the entire thing right in Yoongi’s face. His angry expression only intensifies into something akin to rage, but you don’t care to stick around and continue this game with him.

Turning on your heel, you beeline straight to the entrance where you came in and where you know there are attendants on standby to take anyone who wants to leave back to shore.

Judging by the gasps and the looks you received during the argument, you know there will be plenty of people in your circle talking about what just happened, and you know you’ll be getting a scathing phone call from your mom about this, but the only thing you want to do right now is get away from Min Yoongi, for as long as you can help it.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Traditional Publishing, Twitter, and You

Okay, so let’s actually talk about Twitter (I will make a more detailed post specifically about pitch parties later, but keep in mind the basics - don’t do them without being ready to query, or you’re wasting your time.)

Do you need to take part in Twitter pitch parties to get an agent? No, the traditional method of querying still works and more people get signed that way. Remember that signing an agency all boils down to the quality of your query, the manuscript offered, and the agent’s personal preferences.

Do you need to be on twitter to be a successful published author? Not really. Kacen Callender wrote a detailed post about how most of a writer’s success is out of their hands, no matter how involved or active on social media they are.

Do you need to be on twitter to understand publishing? Maybe. Let’s go into more details!

Why You Should Be On Twitter

Twitter is a great way to figure out what’s going on in the industry now. Following agents, editors, and writers you’re interested can give you a much more thorough idea on what the industry looks like and where it’s headed. I’ve seen a lot of people on Tumblr claim YA is a dead genre, but that’s completely untrue - it’s still being published in large quantities, it’s just not as popular as it used to be.

Publishing trends are also a good thing to find more about on Twitter. Not that you should be chasing a specific trend, but if you see an uptick in what you want to sell (more queer books! OwnVoices stories! A whole lotta mermaids in the last year, for some reason, etc), you can better guide your expectations. It’s also really good to know what your book comps to (a comp is a title you add to your query to give the agent and readers a better idea of who will like your book), and the more you can cite recent successful books, the better.

Twitter is also an effective way to figure out who to watch out for. Scammy agents, predatory agencies, and other folks to beware tend to still be discussed in whisper networks, but word does get out. New authors are told to do their own research, but if there’s no post on Writer Beware, where are you going to start looking? (Twitter, my friends).

You can make a lot of connections on twitter! I’ve seen multiple writing groups form (including my own!) around pitch parties or themed hashtags, and a lot of success come out of that. I have twitter buddies who write completely different genres from me, but still have great insight on processes that I would have no clue about. Also plenty of your favorite authors are on twitter, and you can keep up with what they’re doing too.

Why You May Not Want To Be On Twitter

‘Twitter is social media and all social media is designed to crush your soul for the algorithm’ aside, there is a lot of drama on twitter. Some of it is valid! Sometimes painful discussions need to happen, and there’s a lot of good that can happen from them. Sometimes twitter drama is dumb and pointless and not worth the oxygen it takes up in your timeline, and there is no way to filter that out or really escape it.

Twitter may be good for calling certain things out, but it’s not good for creating changes for the better. You’ll hear about some awful behavior of an author or agent, and see them pop back up in your feed three months later like nothing happened, because not enough people in the position to do anything about it actually cared. It sucks, it’s going to keep happening, and there’s nothing you can really do about it.

A lot of authors have joined and left twitter. A lot of agents and editors have as well. Twitter is exhausting no matter the reason you’re there. It’s designed to keep you perpetually scrolling despite nothing new being said rather than aiding your productivity. I’ve seen very few people say twitter has made them happy, and a hell of a lot of people saying it’s been harmful to them. If twitter isn’t doing you any good, you don’t need it.

Would I recommend joining twitter? Right now, yes, with some caveats. If you’re a young teen writer, I’d recommend keeping your account locked down and limited to friends. If you just want to get the feel for the place or follow industry trends, consider doing the same. Feel free to jump right in, but but always prioritize yourself.

Remember, you don’t need to be highly visible on twitter before being published, and you don’t necessarily need it after being published either. Having a website, doing a side project like a podcast or indie publishing, or even being a booktuber or Tiktok might work out better for you - as long as it’s something you really care about.

I mean, my last tweet was about bread and it got four likes, so I’m clearly killing it out there.

[eelistolvanen]

Bruises that you left behind - Travis Konecny Finale

A/N: HERE IT IS!! Finally got around to finish off the last parts. This chapter is a bit longer but hopefully you like it. Thanks to everyone who read this series, I honestly never thought I would be able to publish a nearly 20k long fic. So thank you for reading, liking, reblogging or sommenting on it. <3

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, no proofread (as usual), don’t know what else

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1       Part 2         Part 3       Part 4     

_____________________________________________________

“Have you looked at the teams that could draft you?” Your voice was quiet, soft. You weren’t entirely sure if this was crossing the line or not, since you knew that he didn’t want to think about the draft to much. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“No, Y/N. It’s not in my hands anyway.“

“Well I did. And I think-“ “ Don’t Y/N. I could literally go to any team.”

“But some are more likely and some seem nicer than others…” You could hear him let out a deep sigh, letting you know that he gave in. “ Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean Ottawa would be perfect. You already play here and I’ve almost gotten used to this city. Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg are around there as well. There not as close as Ottawa but still Canada. Maybe there’s some other smaller cities…”

“Y/N, there are no real small cities. And you can barely tolerate Ottawa and it’s one of the smaller ones… Detroit’s close and-“

“But it’s so industrial and dark and… I don’t know, Travis. I just… What if it’s somewhere far away?”

“You’ll come with me… I’m not leaving you behind and I know you don’t like cities and would rather live here on the farm but I can’t change it.”

You let out a deep breath. “Travis, I just.. I want to come with you, I do. But I’m not made for a big city. I love my friends, my family, everything we’ve got here. And dragging me into some big city far away, feels a lot like locking me up in a cage. And you know how much I value freedom.”

“But you’ll make new friends, and you’ll warm up to living in a city, just like you did with Ottawa. WE can do this, we’re going to be just fine, okay?”

When you looked into his eyes you could see how sure he was of this, so you slowly exhaled.

“Okay. But promise me that you’re not gonna do this to me. If it’s someplace too big or to constricting for me, you won’t keep me locked in a cage. Promise me you won’t clip my wings.”

He gave you a soft smile and slowly caressed your face before his expression turned serious.

“I promise I won’t do this to you.”

 You were struggling to breath, trying to gasp for air.

“No, no no no. This is not…” You didn’t really know where you were going with this. Your heart was aching more than it had in a while. The things was he was right. You could almost hear 17 year old Travis saying it. He had promised you. He had promised you to not constrict you, promised you to not take you into some big dark city. How you hated cities. Or at least used to hate them.

He meant to do the right thing, at the wrong time. And how wrong he had been…

“I didn’t want you to have this life, you deserved someone better. Someone who is there for you all the time. Someone who doesn’t spent most of his time on the road while you are left behind in some apartment, some city that you hate. Before I was drafted I promised you I would never do this to you. Lock you in a cage, clip your wings as you said. You hated the city, you hated the thought of being away from your family and friends. You loved being outside, being in nature. Port Stanley, the lake, the farm. This life here is everything you hate. And I would not put you through this, no matter how much I loved you.”

This felt like a dagger straight through your heart. You really couldn’t imagine yourself living that life back then.

“I moved here for you, Travis. Because I loved you. And…” He took the words straight out of your mouth.

“That’s what I mean, Y/N. I didn’t want you to give up your dream life just for me. Can’t you see that?

“Hah…” your laugh sounded bitter, almost cruel. “How couldn’t you see how happy I was? I wanted that life Travis! You didn’t do this to me. I choose to come to Philly Travis! I made the final decisions. Because I loved you. Because it was worth it to me. But do you know what you really did? You left me! On our wedding day. And I tried to come after you but you already left. And I waited and waited and waited in our house. The house we were supposed to grown old together. Spend our time in the off season. Raise our kids.”

You paused trying to get some air in, now you felt like you were being constricted. Travis’ hand moved towards you, he tried to reach out to you but you pulled back. Took a step back, trying to get some more space between the two of you. You took a deep breath.

“But then Nolan told me where you were and that you wouldn’t come back. You never came back! So when Nolan left I burned the letter and started packing everything up. By midnight of that day I was gone.”  

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t! Sorry just doesn’t cut it.”

There were many moments were you felt broken, shattered in the last few years. But were have you felt this low. And little. And humiliated. You felt like the invisible hand around your neck had tightened. You needed to get out of here.

“I..  can’t do this, Trav. I need… time.” You barely got those words over your lips. You could see that Travis wanted to say something, reach out to you in any way. But he didn’t. He knew better than that. So he watched you get in your car and drive off into the distance. Probably trying to put as much space as possible in between the two of you.  

---------------

You threw yourself into work after that. Week after week. Occasionally meeting up with the girls or some of the guys on the team. You knew better this time than to push Nolan out of your life. You started to help Maddie with the wedding planning, even if you felt a little tug in your heart everytime you did. You felt like you were starting to get your life back a bit. Piece by piece.

It was a Sunday afternoon in late March when you felt a sudden urge to clean your apartment. You went through the kitchen, the living room and were just about starting in your room when your eyes fell onto a drawer in your room. And suddenly you felt like you knew exactly what you had to do. You felt pretty erratic and your mind was racing.

Within 20 minutes you were sitting your car in front of a building halfway through town. And for the next 10 minutes you contemplated whether this was actually the right thing to do. Was this really what you wanted? Should you really go through with it? But you were already here, so you exited the car.

Only when you walked through the lobby you realised that you weren’t sue how to get to his apartment. He wasn’t living in the same building anymore, then you used to live in. The receptionist probably wouldn’t just let you in and you didn’t really felt like explaining your situation to the receptionist.

So instead you exited the building and made your way back to the car. You needed to talk to him, now. Before you run again.

You didn’t have his number either so you texted Nolan to text Travis to come outside. You felt pretty weird, almost like some stalker waiting in front of a building until the person left the building or so. Thankfully, it didn’t take Nolan very long to respond and telling you that he texted Travis. He also mentioned that Travis hadn’t read the text yet.

You were still staring at you phone waiting for Nolan to update you when he exited the building and walked towards you. His steps were cautious and he seemed pretty tired. When he finally was a few steps away you felt your mind catch up.

“Uhh, I was just in the neighbourhood…” What a dumb thing to say, Y/N; you thought. He knew this was a lie. You were never in this area of town. But Travis seemed more confused than anything.

“Ah, yeah okay… What’s going on?” He seemed more nervous than usual. His confidence seemed non existent at this moment. He looked like a deer in the headlights. Well, you came to him so you might as well say what you came here for.

“I thought a lot about us after that conversation, Travis.” He looked guilty at the mention of your last conversation.

“You know, the reason why I burned that letter that day was because I thought that no matter what the reason was, it wouldn’t matter. Because in the end you left me. Yes, I wanted to know the reason why you did it. But it doesn’t change anything. No reason truly justifies what you did to me. Or makes up for all the pain. It just gives me clearance. You know even with that good intention, I just don’t understand why you didn’t ever talk to me about it. We were 17 when we made that promise and I don’t think we ever brought it up again.”

Travis was shaking his head desperately, you were pretty sure he knew where this was going.

“Please don’t, Y/N. Please…” But he knew he was losing this game.

“We’re not the Y/N and Travis that we once were. Not anymore. And we never will be, Travis. Believe me I want nothing more than to go back to that time. To that couple that we used to be. But this is never going to happen Travis and we both have to accept that.”

“You don’t know that, I mean you can’t just give up. I can’t do this without you.”

“You gave up on us a long time ago. And yes, you can. You’ve done it before. Just this time, I’m going to be the one who walks away.”

“Y/N…”

You stepped towards and took his hands in yours as you leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheeks. As you pulled away you placed something into his palms.

“Goodbye, Travis”

You stepped back towards your car as he looked down at his hands.

The little velvet box with your engagement ring.

And he knew that this was it.

Game over.

 ------------------------------------

The rest of the school year passed quickly and soon summer came around. You had been so busy teaching and helping Maddie with the wedding, time had flown by quickly. You hadn’t seen Travis again and you felt yourself heal again. You knew that there would always be a piece of you that would never be over him. A little piece of your heart would belong to him. But slowly you came to terms with the fact the the rest of your heart wouldn’t.

It was mid July now and Maddie’s wedding was finally here. You had been busy all weekend and you finally felt yourself able to relax as you were sitting in a chair getting your make up done.

“He’s gonna be here. He’s invited.” Maddie glanced over her shoulder towards you as her hairstylist send her a glare for moving around.

“I know Maddie, I’ll be fine.” You weren’t sure if that was actually true but at least you could try to make yourself believe that. Maddie didn’t comment on that but you were sure that she wasn’t really believing you.

The ceremony was drawing closer as you helped with Maddie’s dress and later slipped into your dress as well.

Eventually there was a knock on the door from Kevin, who was picking you up to walk you downstairs to the ceremony. He offered to be your date. He was one of the only single guys that you knew and you were sure that I wouldn’t hurt to have him by your side.

“Ahh, of you’re you look absolutely beautiful.” He gave you a beaming smile as he escorted you to the down the stairs and outside.

“You look sharp too, Kev. A real suit guy.” You winked at him as his booming laugh shook his body.

“Okay, calm down with that roasting.” He wasn’t really serious though, he loved when you chirped him.

“When your big day coming anyway? Ever gonna settle down?” Your eyes glinted, you knew how much he wanted to get married and have kids.

He just scoffed before replying,

“Yeah, yeah. One day I will find the right girl, you just wait.”

You started to mix with other guest as more people were drawing in, since the ceremony was coming closer. You spoke to some of the guys, found Nolan and Kelsey before going of to the side the catch some air.

You overlooked the seats and the aisle leading towards a little podium and you felt that heartache again. You just couldn’t quiet shake that wedding sadness. You were lost in thought when you felt someone approaching.  

You knew it was him behind you before you even turned around. The two of you had seemingly always had that. That special connection. That buzzing feeling you would get if he was close to you. The way you would always find each other in a crowded room. Like two magnets pulling towards each other.

And knowing that you would never get that with anyone else, ever, made your heart feel heavy. Travis had always been the one for you and no matter how hard you tried nobody could ever take his spot. You could love someone, yes. You could even see yourself spend your life with someone. But this person could never be him. They would never be able to make you feel what he did. You could never get that special connection, that buzzing feeling with anyone else, ever.

“I’m sure you’ve already been told but… You look stunning, Y/N!” He stepped beside you while you turned to face him. He was dressed in your favourite navy suit and a crisp white dress shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tie, the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned instead. He gave you a shy smile. One that told you that he wasn’t entirely sure whether he just stepped over a line or not.

“Thank you. You don’t look to bad yourself, Travis.” An you meant it. He did look good. Better than he had in months. The bags under his eyes had disappeared, he looked younger now. More like his actual age. And there was a glint in his eyes. The sparkle that you used to love so much.

He stayed silent for a bit. You could see he was deep in thought, somewhere else even though physically he was beside you.  Just when you got used to the silence between you two, he spoke up again.

“You were right. We’re not the same people we once were. And we never will be. We will never be the Y/N and Travis we once were. And we will never be the couple we were then. People change and people grow. You’re not the same person at 20 than you were at 17. And you’re not the same person now than what you were at 20. And I just know that the person that I am now loves you just as much as the person I was at 20. Or the boy I was at 17. And I know that I will still love you when I’m 40. Or 70. I will never stop loving you, Y/N.”

He took a deep breath, trying to sort the words that were swirling around in his head into a sentence. His little speech left you breathless. You were sure he had been thinking about this for weeks. And he was right, people do change and people grow. But that doesn’t always mean that people grow in the same direction.

“I’ve always wanted this, you know?” He was gesturing around him. “Since I met you I knew that you were the one for me. That you were the one I was going to marry one day. You were the person I wanted to have kids with. I wanted this life for us so bad, I lost sight of us. I lost myself and the person I used to be. And when I realised that I felt like I had already pushed you into it. So I did the only thing I knew. I ran.”

Your heart felt heavy and looking at him wasn’t helping. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were trained on the ground but you could see the glazing over his eyes. He was close to tears and this truly hit home to you.

He had told you so many times that he didn’t intent to hurt you but you never believed him, how could you? But now you understood that he truly thought it was the only way. That he had already pushed you too far into the cage to retrack what he had done. That the only way to keep you from losing your freedom was to let you go. To leave the cage open and walk away.

He got it all wrong though. Because you didn’t feel like he was putting you in a cage or clipping your wings.

“I wanted to marry you, Travis. You weren’t pressuring me into it.” He had to know that, the last thing you wanted was for him to carry that guilt around.

He finally turned his gaze towards you and looked you in the eyes. His lips were pressed into a pained line.

“I know. I know that now.” His eyes searched for yours before he slowly took a step towards you.

He brushed a hair out of your face before giving you a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Enjoy the wedding. I might see you later.”  

The gesture was so sweet, so intimate. It felt so domestic, like something he would do everyday. A painful thought crossed your brain then. It felt so domestic because he used to do it everyday.

“You ruined weddings for me.” You didn’t mean to say those words out loud, you weren’t even consciously thinking them and to be honest you thought he was out of earshot already. But he stopped in his track and turned back to you. You didn’t dare to fully turn around, only just looking over your shoulder.

“I’ve ruined a lot of things for you, Y/N. I wish I could undo it.” And with that he vanished into the crowd.

You endured the ceremony. Well maybe that’s a bit harsh. You were happy for Maddie and Provy and the ceremony was incredibly beautiful. But you couldn’t help the bitter taste in your mouth. This should have been Travis and you, 3 years ago.

You let the wedding pass over you, you enjoyed hanging out with the team, catching up with the girls, you even let Kevin drag you to the dance floor.

You tiredly let yourself fall into a chair besides Kevin. You followed his gaze to another table. Travis was sitting there, seemingly without much company. You didn’t know whether he had  a date or not but by the looks of it was he here by himself. Kevin must have noticed that you were looking at Travis.

“If you’re ever going to forgive him and give him another chance, might as well do it now. I know he will wait for you for as long as you want but… you never know how long someone is going to stay in your life. Take it from someone who had both parents go through cancer and nearly lost a leg, okay? Life won’t wait around for you. Don’t let it pass you by.”

With that he rose from his chair beside you. You wanted to make some funny remark about him being all poetic and shit but he had already made his way towards the bar. You followed his advice non the less and made your way towards Travis.

“This seat taken?” He nearly fell off his chair once he realised who asked the question.

“Of course! Uh, I mean, no it’s not taken.” You chuckled at him stumbling over those words. You sat down.

“You seem lonely, no date?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Was this to much? Did you step over a line? Travis seemed to relax himself and smiled.

“Ah haha, yeah no date. You came with Kevin?” It was nonchalant but you knew the deeper meaning behind his question.

“Yeah, always better to come with a friend than alone, you know.”

He nodded agreeingly before an uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you.

The songs were a slower than before which meant they weren’t as tiring as before. And before you could stop yourself your suggestion had already crossed your lips.

“Do you wanna dance?”  

An immediate smile spread across Travis’ face. “Yeah, of course. I mean if that’s what you want.”

You laughed quietly and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. Just don’t step on my feet.”

“I try my best.”

For a bit the two of you swayed quietly to the music. It was already rather late so there weren’t to may people on the dance floor. The song changed and you let out a dry laugh as you realised what song had come on. Travis must have notice your reaction too.

“What?” He looked confused. “What’s funny.”

“Nothing, just the song.” He stilled and listened to the music. It was a Lewis Capaldi song. And it hit closer to home than you liked.

I've been holding on to hope That you'll come back when you can find some peace 'Cause every word that I've heard spoken Since you left feels like an hollow street

 The song perfectly seemed to portray you and Travis. You felt your emotion dwelling up, as you heard the next verse.

I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind But I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind Oh my lord, oh my lord, I need you by my side

 You let out a choked laugh. “I wish I could get you off my mind, but I can’t. Part of me will always be yours, Trav.” You gave him small smile before singing that verse again as it was repeated.

“I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind, but I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind. Oh my lord, oh my lord, I need you by my side.”

Travis seemed to understand your involvement with the lyrics as he gave you a sad smile.

“I was such a coward. I’m sorry Y/N.” He brushed a tear away that had started to roll down your cheek. “I should have fought for us, instead I gave up on us. I thought that the only way to give you the freedom I promised you, was to let go of you, to leave you. I was too much of a coward to let you fly free, because I thought you’d slip away and then I lost you anyway. I know you wanted to get married too but I should have never put that much pressure on it. I’m truly sorry.”

You leaned you forehead against his as you still slowly moved with the music. The song had changed now.

“I know Trav. I know. Do you think that one day we can be Y/N and Travis again? I mean not the same as we used to but a grown version. Do you think it could work again?”

You could hear Travis holding his breath as he patiently listened to you. His eyes were trained on yours, searching for meaning behind your words.

“Yeah, I think so. If you give me another chance I will prove it to you. Okay?”

You felt your heart speeding up at his words. Take a chance, you thought, before life passes you by. But instead of answering you leaned in and slowly connected your lips with his. The kiss was slow almost shy at first before Travis started to deepen it. Once you broke apart Travis slowly stroked your cheek before murmuring,

“You’re my always, you know that right?”

 Epilogue:

The two of you took it slow afterwards. Both of you needed to get to know each other again, ease into each other again. But it felt right. Being with Travis had always felt right. Once your lease was up you move in with him and you were thankful that he wasn’t living in your old house anymore. As much as you loved your old place that you had together and all the memories that came with it, you needed something else. After all you weren’t the people that you used to be then. And that was a good thing.

He never asked you to marry him. One day a little box with an new engagement ring had just been placed onto your nightstand. Travis only comment to this was that he had already proposed to you and that this time you were calling the shots when you felt ready to marry him. And whenever you felt ready the ring would be there. He let the old engagement ring be made into a pendant since it was to meaningful to your relationship to give it away and to pretty to just let it sit in a box. And now you were wearing one around your finger and one around your neck, close to your heart as Travis liked to say.

And then the day was here. You knew you were ready but that didn’t mean that you weren’t feeling a tiny bit anxious about your wedding day.

Maddie looked over your shoulder and soothingly rubbed your back.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.” She gave you one of her bright smiles.

You quietly laughed. “As if Maddie. You looked like some top model or something at your wedding. But I’ll gladly take second.”

Maddie erupted in laughter while you gave her a sly smile. Her expression turned serious again as she eyed the object in your hands.

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually, Y/N.”

She was right, of course. And you knew you had to tell him sooner or later. You couldn’t keep it from him forever.

“I’ll go and get you something to drink, some water or something.” Maddie gave you a soft smile before making her way to the door. Just before she closed the door behind her you heard her say:

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here now…”

You felt like your heart stopped beating for a moment. An unwanted flashback crossed your brain.

The mental picture of Nolan making his way towards you with that cautious expression on his face.

“He’s not coming, Y/N.”  Those words would probably haunt you forever.

Just as you felt yourself starting to panic Travis appeared in the doorway and quickly closed the door behind him.

“Travis?!” You probably looked like you just saw the lochness monster or something. What was he even doing here?

He approached you with a sly smile on his face.

“Hey, babe.” “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony..” Your words lacked any kind of force or enthusiasm. And before you knew your soon to be husband had engulfed you in a hug.

“What? Who said that?” His voice was light, almost joking.

“It brings bad luck or misfortune if the groom sees the bride before the ceremony.” Your explanation sounded lame and you were actually happy to see him even if your initial surprise might let him believe otherwise.

He chuckled before giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Ahh, that sounds pretty stupid. And you can’t blame me for wanting to say good morning to my wife.”

His eyes searched for yours while he gave you his brightest smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics. Then you remembered the object you’d held in your hands just a few moments before and you got serious again. Now was as good of a moment than ever.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” You felt yourself grow nervous, you knew there was no reason for it but you couldn’t help it.

“Don’t tell me you want to run away this time.” He was joking, a smirk plastered all over his face.

“Travis I’m serious!” At that his smile dropped. Uncertainty crossed his features.

You grabbed the little square paper you had put down moments ago.

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out while handing him the ultrasound. His eyes nearly popped out of his head while he stared at the picture.

“I.. I … You..” He seemed lost for words and you were almost starting to get worried when he lifted him head up and looked into your eyes. He seemed to explode with happiness.

“I’m going to be a dad? This is not a joke right? We’re having a baby?” You could just nod as he picked you up and spun you around.

“Oh my god, this is the best day of my life.” He nearly knocked his head with yours as he dove in to give you a deep kiss. Once you pulled apart and you found your breath you spoke up.

“Promise me something, Travis. Promise me you won’t run again. Promise me that you’ll fight for us no matter what we face. Don’t ever let me go again, Trav.”

“Never! I promise.”

~ the end ~  

[jeannereames]

Hi, Dr. Reames. This is probably a dumb question to ask, but I know you´ve been wrting your whole life, I think, so I thought I might ask you anyway, as I admire your work a lot. How do I overcome my fear of writing? It's kinda hard to explain, It's not about what other people will think about my work, It's what I will think of it. I never think it's good enough, in my eyes it's always bad written, unoriginal, boring. Even when I have an idea I love I struggle to get myself because of these thoughts. Any time I write something, when I think about posting it somewhere I´m like “I will cringe so bad for this in a few hours/days/months/years”. Every time I find something I wrote a while ago I think “how could I even think about writing this?” and I know I should take it as part of the progress, failing to win y'know, but instead I find it keeps me from writing and sharing my work, even when I think it is good. I want to write and post my work, I have too many ideas but I don't know how to overcome these fears to actually do it.

Right now I'm struggling with writing a story I have to do for college and give in a few days, but I'm completely blocked. I think it's a ridiculous idea, although I like it a lot, It is making me feel anxious and embarrassed beforehand.

First, I’m answering a little out of order for what’s in my inbox, as the asker mentioned she had a story due in a few days, so it seemed time-specific.

So, let me just open by saying I don’t know any professional author who doesn’t hit that “I hate my story” point somewhere in the midst of writing it. “This is terrible! What was I thinking? Who would be interested in this? Who do I think I am to believe I could write about that/that character?”

Seriously, this is a normal litany, particularly for women authors. (I do not know if the asker is female gendered, gender fluid, or male gendered, but it seems that a lot of folks on Tumblr belong to the first two categories.) After all, we’re taught to sit back, look pretty, keep our legs crossed, our hands neatly folded, and let the boys talk. Let the boys win. Nobody wants to hear from us. Our job is to showcase the men in our lives.

Even if you never heard those words said to your face, you’ve “heard” them in everything from the advertising industry to TV shows and movies to political dialogue and Twitter. It hurts EVERYbody. Men are not expected to question themselves, so if they (naturally) do, they assume they’re secretly a failure. And women are expected to question themselves, apologize for having an opinion/original thought, so they learn to do so from preschool on.

Writing a story that one intends to share with the universe is sort of arrogant, when you think about it. To assume that anybody besides me gives three shits about the stories I tell myself in my head is an act of either great self-confidence or great self-delusion. And if one wants to go pro, we add another layer of expecting other people to pay for my “little whimsies”? Who do I think I am? (Echoes one of the questions above, no…?)

That’s the negative way of thinking about it. Let me turn that around…

Writing a story that one intends to share with the universe is an amazingly generous action.

That’s right. Generous.

I will never recoup in royalties the blood, sweat, tears, (and cost) that it took me to write Dancing with the Lion. I can’t even begin to add up the hours devoted to writing, revising, rewriting, revising again, that story. And you get to read it for $6.99 each, or, if you go for the Riptide special, $8.99 for both! (Pricier if you want a paper copy.)

Some authors don’t go quite as overboard as I did in perfectionism (it’s kinda part and parcel of the phud). Yet even established professional authors with 5-figure advances do not make anywhere close to minimum wage, sometimes not even 6-figure advances (depending on what those 6 figures are). And the bulk of us will never see either of those.

Writers write because they have a story to tell. That’s an act of generosity. You don’t have to like that story. You don’t have to read that story. You may, in fact, think that story is utter crap and should be consigned to the dungheap. (There are some even professionally published novels, never mind self-published, I feel that way about.)

Yet it’s still an act of generosity. And even if I don’t like __ story, probably somebody out there will. More to the point, nobody gets better unless they, you know, actually work at it by writing (and getting useful constructive criticism because virtually nobody is Carson McCullers, to pen a classic at the tender age of 21). So yes, some writers may not be up to publishable quality fiction yet…although what IS publishable quality lies somewhat in the eye of the acquiring editor. But keep going.

The biggest and most munificent leap any author makes is to finish a story, hand it to someone else and say, “Would you like to read this?”

Writers are all but driven to write. I can’t NOT write. I’ve been writing since 6th grade when my English teacher gave us one of those “Use this word in a sentence” assignments and my sentences turned into paragraphs, then into little stories. And she let me get away with it. Lord above, she even encouraged me!

Write. Trust yourself. Share it.

Yes, take constructive criticism if somebody offers it. Ignore unconstructive criticism. The former pinpoints weaknesses with concrete suggestions for how to fix/improve them. The latter is just soul-sucking drivel.

Long, long ago when I was an ambitious but uncertain 18-year-old, I got to hear Lawrence Dorr give a talk on writing. After, I introduced myself and said, “I’m a writer. Well, I want to be. I’m not published yet.”

He stopped me and replied, “Do you write?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a writer.”

That has stuck we me, coming from an award-winning published author.

So I will pass that on to every other aspiring author out there.

Do you write? If so, you’re a writer.

[sometimesrosy]

Hello Rosy! This might be a difficult ask. Don’t know if you’ve already seen what’s going on on Twitter, but a white reviewer said she couldn’t understand a book because she started reading the sequel without reading the first book. It was a paid review, for a famous magazine. The book was written by a POC, and it was so enraging that suddenly a lot of reviews, written by her, with blatant racism started showing up. She’s said some pretty bad things, such as a white reader not understanding a different culture because it’s too exotic and was presented in a “non-white way”. She also said she clearly wasn’t the best reviewer for that book as she wasn’t of the author’s ethnicity. I think that’s super ignorant, because why can’t a white person try to understand a different culture? Anyway, this got me thinking. I love fantasy, and love it even more when it grabs elements and cultures of our own world. I love learning about different cultures than my own and just get to know them. I’m from a smaller country where most people are honestly ignorant about racism. I tend to believe I can easily put myself in other people’s shoes, and I never understood this white-privilege and need for everything to be about white-culture. I think it’s very dumb when we claim things need to be changed because we don’t understand them because we are white, and so POC should change their stories so we can “relate”. Reminds me of colonialism, tbh. I mean, the world is so beautiful and so diverse? Why do we feel the need to even dictate fantasy stories that way? What I wanted to ask is, as a white person, when does it become racist when trying to get to know another culture? Until a few years ago, I didn’t know the word “exotic” was bad, for example. Is too much enthusiasm bad? As an aspiring writer who’s white cis, when does it become disrespectful to write diverse characters and try to represent their culture in a respectful, truthful way? Thank you, and I’m sorry this is so long. (Didn’t proofread, hope it’s coherent!)

This is a difficult ask. Because it’s complicated and we are all right smack dab in the middle of this cultural upheaval. It’s had to get a clear perspective on it, because we’re drowning in it. I suppose I’ll answer it, not as if I have all the answers, but as if it’s a problem that I am sorting through and sometimes struggling with myself. I have been working on this answer for three  five days now so let’s see if I can wrap it up.

I did see the issue going around on twitter but I didn’t read the book and didn’t click on the review, because, well, sometimes I get tired of giving my attention to people who are acting in bad faith about issues of race and diversity. I saw a quote yesterday about the truth of a lot of people acting in bad faith. They can PRETEND they are innocent and ignorant and don’t know what they are doing, but a professional reviewer doesn’t bother reading the first book because it isn’t worth their time and then judges the book based on their ignorance?  That’s WILLFUL ignorance. That’s disrespect. Saying they couldn’t understand it because it’s not from a white perspective is both minimizing the humanity of the non white culture, the AOC, and the book, and also putting the white pov, the white audience and the white author ABOVE everyone who is not white. 

“I can’t relate to this book because I am not centered and it is not about people who look like me and are white.”

This is part of the “white default” mentality. This mentality says that the REAL human is a middle/upperclass, christian, cishet, abled, western white man, and everyone else is some sort of hyphenated person. The more hyphens, the less they count as human. A book about a hero, is about a white man. A book about a female hero-- or heroine, is a white woman. A Black hero, a Black man. A lesbian Black female hero. A poor, muslim, bisexual, Filipino, single mom... is apparently the kind of person that those at the “top” of the identity food chain can’t conceptualize as having universal human experiences. 

Because they are “the other.”

Saying that white people can’t relate to BIPOC in the content they consume is saying that white people and BIPOC do not share the same human experience. 

That’s one of the reasons why calling someone ‘exotic’ is problematic. Because it’s othering that person, saying they are odd or weird or unusual, not even in a bad way really, but in a way that makes them NOT a regular human. Perhaps something good enough for an exotic vacation or love affair or a night out at an exotic restaurant. It turns people into consumable goods that aren’t a part of the default human’s REAL world. Exotic is spicy and attractive and sexy and foreign. Something to be explored and then discarded when you go back to your real life.  

So yes it TOTALLY is akin to colonialism. And that reviewer, using their entitlement as the basis for their review shows a marked incompetence as a reviewer. That is a BAD reviewer who acted in bad faith to attack authors and stories that were different from their dominant experience.

Okay. So that’s the discussion about the reviewer and the BIPOC authors. Listen, the publishing industry is a MESS, and it has been for years. Publishers, editors, reviewers, marketing, book covers, agents, writing associations and, the worst one for the readers, the writers, too. Yes. It’s awful, every time you turn around you find out something horrible about a favorite creator. 

I think it’s because when we create, we use who we are, underneath our polite public personas, to create new worlds and characters. And that’s the part of us that is full of biases and unquestioned prejudices, wounds, resentments, fears and weaknesses. Those things come out in our stories. No matter who we are they do. But also when a person gets power and success, our cutlure allows them to abuse that power, and then we start hearing stories about what our favorite creators do with that power-- and we start to connect that abusive or toxic or racist or transphobic behavior back to the stories, books, movies and shows that they’ve created and then, voila. It’s all painted in black and white on the page or screen or whatever. 

I think it’s just part of the vulnerability of being an artist. You put yourself out there to be seen, and that means a lot of your ugliness is visible.  We all have ugliness. We’re all raised in a racist world. Not just those who are white and powerful, but also BIPOC who have all that internalized racism or racism against other minorities, or classism or homophobia or whatever. All that stuff is in there. 

How do we keep racism and other biases out of our work? We probably can’t get rid of it all, because humans are imperfect. And also, sometimes you want to write ABOUT that imperfection. Flaws are part of what make fictional characters interesting. And sometimes we want to address that. Sometimes we WANT to tell a story without explicitly saying, “this bad and shouldn’t be that way.” There is a reason to write about the bad, hard and unfair things in life, and they shouldn’t necessarily be erased from our fiction.

BUT.

As a writer, at this point in time, you really don’t want to be at the mercy of your unquestioned biases, blindspots, ignorance, bigotry, racism, homophobia, misogyny etc. 

We, as authors, want to be aware of how these things affect our writing and stories. So I guess the first step is to be pay attention when we hear about how racism etc is shown in the world and fiction. If you can see the problem of colonialism and exoticism in reviewers or authors, if you can see how taking, say, Chinese culture as a basis for your SF world, but not having any Chinese characters or actors in your show (Serenity/Firefly) is racist, colonialist, unfair, and tbh flawed storytelling, then you have to pay attention when you yourself want to use multicultural elements in your story.

I think one thing you have to look out for as a white author writing about other cultures is a kind of cultural tourism, where you look at other cultures and try to *use* the exotic elements to spice up your story. To indicate “the other.” Or perhaps something that is exotic and consumable. Even stereotypes that seem positive to you, powerful and beautiful and exotic can be dehumanizing. Like the “magical negro,” or the “spicy latina,” or the “tech genius east asian.” Why? Because they’re caricatures, not real people.  I have also heard that sometimes using religions in your work is considered offensive because they are closed religions. You have to be a part of them to understand them. I am not sure about this, because I am not from a closed religion. I’m from a buddhist tradition that was missionary in nature. (I however hate proselytizing and it’s one of the reasons I left that religion.)

Being a mixed race, multicultural person from a minority religion, who belongs to many cultures and so doesn’t belong to any, I personally think sharing culture, art, stories and influences is a good thing. I couldn’t exist if we didn’t. And I use influences from all over in my work. 

When does this enter into appropriation? I think that is a very good question. Using a native american war bonnet to fancy up your bikini so you can get drunk at a music festival definitely seems like appropriation. Writing a well developed, well rounded Lakota character who’s been well researched and stays away harmful stereotypes... maybe not.

I would NOT write a story attempting to Tell The Truth of what it is to BE another culture. Recently a part Puerto Rican, mostly white author wrote a novel attempting to do that with, I believe, the Mexican immigrant experience, American Dirt, and as far as I can tell, failed miserably. Maybe it was a good story, but it was NOT an authentic tale of the Mexican experience. I didn’t read it, but what I read about it felt as if she thought she could write an expressionist tear jerker about her impression of someone else’s experience. As someone who shares a similar background to that author, I would NEVER have had the temerity to write about that particular story. You’re from NYC lady. What do you know of border crossings? But if I HAD incorporated that experience into my stories (not trying to offer some sort of definitive narrative) I would have done more research from primary sources.

Now all authors are writing about other experiences. Other lives. If not, it would all be scarcely concealed autobiographies. We could only ever write about people who looked like us and came from exactly the same backgrounds and had the same experiences as ours and how boring would that be? This topic is SUPER complicated and I keep thinking about more things to address, but if I keep going I’ll never finish this and it will be too long for everyone to read anyway. 

Let’s sum up.

Can you, a white person, write about cultures not your own? Yes. With cautions.

be aware of your own biases and racism and assumptions

don’t attempt to write a definitive experience. Don’t write about what it’s like to BE Black unless you are Black. You can’t know. Even Black people don’t have the same experience.

stay away from negative stereotypes and be on the look out for less negative ones that are still dehumanizing.

don’t consume someone else’s culture and disrespect the people. 

remember to keep your BIPOC characters well rounded, realistic, and human. They all have pasts and families and fears and hopes and traumas and careers. Don’t treat them as a prop for your white characters. (although do remember that all secondary characters are there to support the MCs, so this can be tricky.)

RESEARCH. Simply basing a character or culture on someone you know is not enough. You should also be aware of history, culture, other depictions, the conversation about that culture, the voices of the people, etc.

Be willing to take criticism. Anyone writing BIPOC characters or cultures is going to get criticism. Period. It’s gonna happen, whether you’re a white author or a BIPOC. Sometimes AOC are more inspected than white authors. All the time, actually, from both white people and POC. 

BE RESPECTFUL. Write BIPOC characters as human as white characters who share your culture. 

oh I’m sure there’s more. but i’m hitting post now or I’ll never send this. 

[shima-draws]

OKAY OKAY SO I had this idea that’s similar to Reverse Falls—except everyone’s personalities/roles are swapped, so for example Stan takes the place of Ford and ends up in the portal, and Ford takes the place of Stan and is stuck trying to get him back for thirty years. Mabel and Dipper swap, as do Soos and Wendy, and Gideon and Pacifica, Candy and Grenda, etc.

They’re the same people with the same likes/dislikes and talents, but their personalities are all switched around!! So while Dipper is still mega fascinated by science and mysteries and stuff, he’s very outgoing and energetic and silly, while Mabel is more reserved and very shy about her creative passions—which leads to her being the one to find the journals, and take interest in them because they’re quirky and entertaining—and written by Stan :’) Dipper has a million different sweater vests, and Mabel has buttons and pins all over her clothes!

I see Ford and Stan’s story playing out as like, Ford was the one born with six fingers but it never bothered him much, and he was a very energetic personality as a kid, leading him and Stan into tons of trouble. Meanwhile Stan has always had self confidence issues, and he always took people calling him the “lesser twin” to heart, despite Ford encouraging him not to. Stan always had an interest in the mysterious, as well as Ford, but Stan’s fascination of it stemmed from his own anxiety issues, and found that he could relate a lot to the weird and unusual (because really, a lot of them were like him, labeled as weird and dumb because of his “mental” issues)

Rest is under the cut because it got LONG lol

This all came to a head during high school when Stan started writing fiction;; and really GOOD fiction at that. He couldn’t outwardly express himself and his interest in the supernatural, but he could do that through fiction, which made everything so much easier for him since he has social anxiety! And he found he was really talented at it. Which leads to a great big story writing contest, and the principal telling Stan that if he wins he can get a scholarship and go to college for writing. (The principal also says Ford is going places, too, but the things Stan can do will get him far, while Ford will always be stuck with the more…disapproving of careers. Assuming writers are a big hit, and scientists are just seen as frauds and losers.) Stan gets REALLY excited about this, which bums Ford out a lot because he wanted to do the treasure hunting thing and search for anomalies together, but Stan protests saying this is his passion and he’s finally being given an opportunity to do something good and worthwhile with his life.

The night before the contest, Ford sneaks in to the library where all the entries are set up, and accidentally mixes Stan’s story up with someone else’s—the pages get all intermixed and weird, and he quickly leaves before he can fix it because he’s about to get caught by night security (but he THINKS he got the pages in order when he in fact did not). The next day the judges read Stan’s story and say it makes no sense, it’s all out of context and the writing is all over the place and sloppy—so Stan loses. Of course he realizes that something must have happened, and after seeing a pen that belongs to Ford on the floor, he realizes what Ford has done. Which results in their enormous fight, and Ford is the one to be thrown out of the house.

Ford still manages to make it into college anyway, despite being homeless for a time, and starts studying hard. It’s not…a good college, at all, and he gets roughed up a lot and teased by frat boys, and struggles endlessly to make ends meet financially, and battles with intense depression. But he manages, somehow :’)

Stan, on the other hand, is so torn up about Ford leaving that he is essentially writers blocked—and he can’t write anything of any worth for a LONG time. Eventually he’s forced to get a low paying job in Glass Shard, wondering where it all went wrong, and missing Ford fiercely but still too upset to reach out. (He’s sure Ford is doing fine on his own, anyway.)

Eventually Stan manages to catch the attention of a publishing company along the way, and gets enough money to finally move out and continue his work! Which leads him to Gravity Falls, a place rumored for being weird, so Stan goes there to get inspiration for his writing, and starts a new life.

Ford, meanwhile, has graduated from college, but with a degree from such a shitty place he’s turned down for many job offers. He essentially starts traveling around the country, trying and failing to get noticed, and things start getting really tight for him moneywise, and people start chasing him down to repay his college debt. Yeah. It’s bad lol

Stan decides to call up an old friend of his that he encountered working part of the industry, Susan!! Susan happily comes up to Gravity Falls to act as an “editor” of some sorts for Stan’s latest in-progress novel. Stan also starts keeping a record of all the weird things he sees in Gravity Falls in a journal—and as time passes, the more he gets involved, and the more crazy he gets about discovering the source of all the weirdness there…which leads to him discovering a cave full of symbols and eventually ends up summoning Time Baby (yes, he and Bill are swapped in this!). Time Baby tells Stan that he’s brilliant, that he can bring all of his stories to life and live out his wildest fantasies if they work together. And so, Time Baby helps Stan in order to build a portal—but not a DIMENSIONAL portal, no. A TIME portal. Because I see Time Baby wanting to extend his rule to every time period possible in this AU, but being limited by time laws and possibly a revolutionized force trying to stop him. If he gets access to a time portal he can spread his influence farther, and attempt to take over all timelines, the past, the present, and the future. And Stan, who in this AU hadn’t grown up knowing when someone was trying to con him, falls for Time Baby’s flattery EASILY, and starts building the portal with his instructions. Susan also helps, being a mechanic alongside an editor. But unfortunately, an accident during testing gave Susan a glimpse into the future, where she witnessed the horrifying truth of Time Baby’s rule. She quit the project and decided to leave Stan on his own, who realizes Time Baby’s lies and started to lose his mind as he attempted to protect himself against the overlord’s influence. Which leads to him calling up Ford!!

Ford, who is currently barely scraping by, drops everything to go see Stan in Gravity Falls, in an excited attempt to reconcile. Of course Stan is driven by paranoia and anxiety at this point, so he snaps at Ford, demands him to hide his journals, and this results in their enormous brawl. Ford gets burned, they accidentally activate the portal, and Stan falls in—to be sent to an apocalyptic future.

Unfortunately without Stan’s other journals Ford has no IDEA how the portal works. And seeing as Stan worked with a being from a future with extreme technological advancements, even with his genius he can’t figure it out right away, and especially without the other journals to help. So, as Ford struggles to bring the portal back online, he decides to take over the Shack and transform it into a science museum of some sorts. Being as outgoing as he is, Ford’s able to draw people in with his friendly personality and contagious energy, which earns him enough money to keep the Shack running. He fakes his own death (mostly to escape the mountain of debt he’s in—I know, Ford isn’t the type, but he really didn’t want people sniffing around after all he’d been through, and paying back loans is the last thing on his mind, especially since he’s avoided it already and is labeled as a criminal anyway), opens the Mystery Shack, which is home to tons of crazy inventions and neat science factoids and tours, and thirty long years pass as he struggles to work the portal again. (He tries tons of different complicated things, but nothing works. He gets very frustrated with it sometimes.)

Eventually, the summer of 2012 arrives and with it comes Dipper and Mabel! And you know, things play out pretty similarly to how the original GF universe did. Bill is an interdimensional demon who keeps track of people dimension hopping (which Mabel and Dipper inevitably end up doing once they get their hands on a space tape), Gideon is filthy rich, Pacifica is a fake psychic who has an interest in Dipper, Wendy is the girl who fixes up the Shack, Soos is the guy always slacking off and being cool (and the thought of Mabel having a crush on him is. WEIRD but consider it being like, teen Soos or smth. Soos but COOL. He could pull it off), Fiddleford is a cheeky waiter at the diner—you get the point lol.

Anyway I am dubbing this AU as UPSIDE-DOWN FALLS! (I apologize if anyone else has ever had a similar idea, but it just popped into my head and I couldn’t disregard it man;;)

Also I feel that Ford and Stan might eventually go traveling the dimensions, or a mishap occurs and they get separated or something—and Ford runs into the regular GF verse Stan, and he has a great fondness for him because they’re practically the same. (Stan won’t admit it but he really likes Upside-Down Ford too.)

[uncloseted]

I know you arent a doctor so sorry if you cant answer this. But I feel like whenever I look into people's experiences with SSRIs/antidepressants, SO many people say not to do it and that the side effects are worse than the depression itself. I don't know these people ofc, but it seems like people who haven't taken them and are just listing side effects they heard of. And then I see people who have actually taken it saying it helped them deeply. Like what? Why are some people so against them?

It's all good! I'm happy to answer. So I think there are a few different groups of people that are very vocal about anti-depressants online.

The first group is people who have taken SSRIs before and had a bad experience. In general, people who have had a negative experience with a product or service are more likely to write about it online than people who have had a neutral or good experience with a product or a service, and I think this is especially true when it comes to medications. SSRIs are one of the most commonly prescribed medications, in part because they typically don't have many side effects and because they can treat a wide variety of conditions. That said, they can have side effects that are serious, especially in children and adolescents. If you're someone who's had a negative side effect, hearing that SSRIs are one of the most commonly prescribed medications might be alarming, so I can see why some people might feel the need to take it upon themselves to "educate" others about the "dangers" of SSRIs. It's also worth noting that it can take a couple of tries before finding the medication and does that work for you, and so some of the negative experiences may be from people who tried one SSRI at one dosage, decided the whole thing wasn't going to work for them, and stopped entirely. On the flip side, if you're someone that's had a positive experience with SSRIs, you're unlikely to talk about it because there's a stigma against both mental illness and SSRIs. You don't want to admit that mental illness is something you're struggling with or that you take medication to help it. Negative stories also stick with us more than positive ones, which may contribute to the feeling that there's an overwhelming number of negative stories about SSRIs but not a lot of positive ones.

The second group is people who haven't actually taken SSRIs themselves, but who are anti-psychiatry. There are lots of different reasons why people are anti-psychiatry, but none of them are worth taking seriously. Some are anti-medication in general, usually because it's "not natural", because they don't want to be "dependent" on a medication to live, or a similar argument. These are silly arguments to me. We do all sorts of things every day that "aren't natural" (driving in cars, using computers, wearing glasses). And SSRIs are typically a short-term prescription to help a person recover from a depressive episode, not a life-long medication. But even for people who do take it their entire lives... we're okay with people being "dependent" on other life-saving medication. Way fewer people accuse people with diabetes of being "dependent" on insulin.

Other people are against psychiatric medication specifically, generally because they think it's kind of like "cheating" at life. This argument is usually something like, "I was depressed and I got over it without medication, why can't you?" or "in my day, we weren't so soft that we needed medication for being sad", or "happiness is earned, you can't take the easy way out". There's a lot to say about those people, especially in the context of the US's "pull yourself up by your bootstraps," Cultural Calvinism, hypercapitalist society, but this isn't really the place for it. These people are dumb, and I feel like they're the same people who uphold hazing rituals or are against forgiving student loan debt because "I had to go through it, so should you". It's a good thing if you can lead a happier, healthier, and more productive life with less effort.

There's also a group of people who thinks that "big Pharma" is using antidepressants to "make us all compliant sheeple" or whatever, making it seem like SSRIs are the new lobotomy. Those people are typically conspiracy theorists and not to be taken seriously.

That said, there are real considerations to take into account when starting an anti-depressant, and especially an SSRI. A meta-anlaysis published in the Journal of Clinical Epidemiology found that 79% of study authors had a pharmaceutical industry link of some sort, and that positive outcomes were more likely to be published than negative ones. That can make it difficult to know exactly how effective SSRIs are in the treatment of depression.

If you have a history of bipolar episodes or suicidal ideation, SSRIs may make those problems worse. Other medical conditions (hypothyroidism, metabolic disturbance, infections, chronic diseases, hypogonadism) and mental health issues (ADHD, eating disorders, personality disorders) may present with symptoms of depression, but need a different approach to treatment, so it's important to be properly assessed.

If you're in a life situation that's causing you distress, making a change may be more effective than starting medication, and I think there's something to be said for the idea that the modern world isn't really designed to promote mental health. Studies generally find that lifestyle changes, such as physical exercise, are more effective than medication in the treatment of mild to moderate depression in most people. Talk therapy can be as effective as medications in mild cases of depression, especially when you have a good relationship with your therapist.

Anti-depressants can and do work, and if you're struggling with depression, they can be an excellent tool in helping you to recover. There's nothing wrong with taking a medication that can help you live a more fulfilling life. But they're not the best solution for everybody, so it's important to assess your situation and your options before trying them, and it's important to view finding the right anti-depressant for you as a journey instead of a quick fix.

[steponmepinkjun]

I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

[randomnumbers751650]

Sometimes people ask a thing like “how did it get so big?” This is almost like any meme in the internet and sometimes even whatever is in the Top 10 bestselling books of any list. Due to being a historian of economic thought, I’m study the ascension of the idea of the entrepreneur as a hero, how it happened and its consequences, both good and bad. Therefore, I couldn’t avoid Ayn Rand and Atlas Shrugged. It wasn’t a good experience and I’ll talk more about it under the cut.

I think we all know how much of a controversial person Ayn Rand was. But it worked. She’s one of the most influential writers of the 20th century whether we like it or not. Like, a lot of people say she hates the poor and minorities. It’s even a meme, like there’s a joke SCP that makes everything it comes into contact unnecessarily verbose and one of the incidents was a sticky note written “I hate poor people” that becomes a copy of Atlas Shrugged.

After reading her work, I can safely say these are traps she set up in her own work. Not only that, these traps hide the true problems of her work.

In first place, we need to consider her demographic target. That wasn’t me, if I wasn’t researching, I wouldn’t even bother reading it. Like, I remember I saw in the internet a game called “The Jihad to Destroy Barney” and someone commenting: “because 20-years old thinking they’re funny were obviously the demographic target of Barney the Dinosaur”. Rand knew what her demographic target was, after working in Hollywood for so many years.

One might think that her demographic target was people like her, but it’s wider than that. Through all her book, producers (she doesn’t use the word ‘entrepreneur’, but it’s obviously the same) are the protagonists. Dagny shows her dedication to her railway, always looking for ways to improve it, to hire the best people to work with her, to deliver the best product she can, always treating others with respect. All the producers are people full of passion for what they do. They do not just for the money, they do it to express themselves (but still want/should be paid).

Meanwhile their enemies are the government organs that want to curb them, by introducing legislation to make everything equal, like people are forbidden to be fired, prices are controlled and so on. And they are evil, they are hypocrites who don’t really believe in the altruistic values they spouse or they are too dumb to realize they’re being hypocrites. They are always men in position of power, evil bureaucrats, quisling industrialists, hypocrite union leaders (though the union leader, Fred Kinnan, interestingly is the most sympathetic of the villains, and actually gets away scot free, to the point some think he’s a Galt agent undercover).

Rand aimed for the real life entrepreneur identify with the “heroes”. All the companies have names of their founders in their titles, Taggart Terminal, d’Anconia Copper, and so on. Their enemies show their true faces by naming themselves with abstract titles, like National Union and so on. She aimed the person who ever had to deal with the Health Department, with the Labor Department, who has to fills forms and more forms and say “Wouldn’t the world be a terrible place if it wasn’t for you? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you didn’t have to do all of this? If you just had the opportunity to truly express yourself? Free from the prying eyes of government inspectors? Rejoice, because I have the answer!”

Rand answers this with the Galt’s Gulch – a utopia of freedom, where the word “give” is taboo, while leaving the outside world of looters and moochers to destroy itself. All the producers are gathered to escape the terrible collectivist world around her. Everyone has money and, since they’re all enlightened by the principles of greed and selfishness, the prices are small, even symbolic. Monopolies are good and rivals are always being taken down, and they rejoice with it, both winner and loser, because they contributed to the expansion of human spirit.

When John Galt says “I swear – by my life and my love of it – that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine”, he’s implying all men who belong to this valley. They are not ashamed of taking low jobs, because they know their true power is what they do with their minds and hands. Francisco is shown to be perfect in everything he does, makes one think he’s a Gary Stu, but it’s because, according to the book’s philosophy, if you’re a true man, anything you do you become the best. For this reason, Galt’s Gulch is quite diverse, because it has not only industrialists, but also factory workers and small businessmen who share their ideals. And not only workers, but also artists, intellectuals and others.

This is why I think the argument “this books hates poor people” might not be accurate. The low worker whom Eddie Willers meets in the beginning is actually John Galt in disguise. This I think it’s the most important part to understand why Atlas Shrugged was so influential with small businessmen when published: John Galt is where the ��bermensch and the Everyman meet. “Who is John Galt?” Anyone can be John Galt – the same way anyone can be Bella Swan, anyone can be Ritsuka Fujimaru (at least before the 5th singularity), anyone can be Kirito Kirigaya – the idealized self of the entrepreneur.

Thus, one is not born a “man”, but becomes one. Dagny and Hank’s entire character development is to become “men”, to learn to love themselves more than what they create, no matter how passionate they are. This contrasts with Eddie Willers, Dagny’s right hand man, probably the most tragic character of the tale.

Eddie loved the railway just as Dagny. He’s been her friend for so long, and even developed feelings for her. But the book constantly observes that Eddy doesn’t have the capacity to lead something as important as a railway. But he does it nevertheless, dedicating all his resources and passion for the railway. But, unlike Dagny, he doesn’t learn to look for greater things. Thus, he ends the novel stuck in a railway, defeated and probably left to die.

This is controversial, so much everyone still discusses his fate. In the movie adaptation, they deviate from the novel by having the heroes making a point to rescue him from his fate. In Jennifer Burns’s biography, she mentions a letter Ayn Rand received asking about Eddie and she replies that in a collectivist society, Eddie would’ve perished, while in a free one he’d be living okay. Nevertheless, this reveals a truth about that world: not everyone will become a “man”. Eddie would never become a “man”.

Since pity is against Galt’s doctrine, Eddie cannot be pitied. He has to live under the mercy of his Galtian overlords. He has only two options: either worship the feet that trample him, expecting his breadcrumbs fall from their banquet table, or to question his place in the world, thus denying that A is A, and be trampled harder. It really doesn’t matter his kindness, his dedication, he’s not a “man”, and thus has more in common with the looters and moochers than the heroes. Thus, if Eddie ever becomes an obstacle to the productive forces, even if unintentionally, he has to be trampled.

While one might think that I’m being unfair, it should be reminded that Ayn Rand openly advocated the people who were killing Natives during the American expansion to the West were doing nothing wrong. The Natives were actually privileged for being trampled by the productive forces, thus creating the great nation. The same argument can be made for the colonized people and even to the “essential workers” of this pandemic – since apparently people who take this book seriously are one of the most resistant forces to lockdowns and mask mandates, you can guess why.

And this is why Rand hated the environmental movement, because it puts an obstacle to the productive process. Nature can only react with deaf indifference to Galt’s speech. For Rand, this is unforgivable. Would it be surprising if oil tycoons were fans of Rand’s work?

In the end, the producers execute their revenge against the world that rejected them. Galt’s speech caused a lot of disturbance and the last chapters deal with its consequences, with more villains being evil for no reason and more showing how awesome their heroes are. Galt becomes more and more like Jesus, even with a gnostic Judas in Dagny helping him. In fact, in the funniest part of the book, where it comes THIS close from being self-aware, he says to his tormenters, when they asked to cooperate with him: “It took me three hours on the radio to tell me why”. It gave me angry laughter.

In the end of the day, what matters? This is a work of fiction, where caricatures of men and women fight each other. The entrepreneurial process works nothing like described in the book. It takes a naïve view of selfishness, upon saying that if everyone was selfish the world would be a better place, when in reality, if you expect selfishness, it’s what you’ll get.

It’s never explained how they invented their inventions, only that they did it and it’s awesome. The One-Man Industrial Revolution trope is one that I loathe a lot, because it misrepresents the innovation process. It requires so many factors, including government funding – scratch that, it REQUIRES government funding because technologies like touch-screen used to be so risky that no private company would take seriously and government can fund because it doesn’t go bankrupt the same way. Even if we take it as a metaphor, it doesn’t work when you stop to think.

Rand belongs to the same class of writers as Stephenie Meyer and Christian Weston Chandler. But she wanted to influence the world, she wanted it to be more than entertainement, much more. Thanks to her publishing network and appeal to real problems, she did it. This is why the problems of her work require critique. And I hope anyone reading this try to understand better what “relatability” means, this is what relatability can do. Stop trying to look for relatability everywhere, let it just come naturally and if it doesn’t come enjoy the story!

[miss-pearlescent]

LIFE UPDATE (lol)

Hello, this is going to be a long-winded life update because I simply want to just talk about things that have been going on and why I don’t update on a consistent basis :)

One of the reasons is above! Last week (two weeks ago??) I covered Naughty with a friend! Please check it out :D Honestly, this didn’t take away from my writing at all because I do random covers all the time, but I just want the views lmao HUMOUR ME! (I’m the one in white). Oh, and please don’t comment anything about my writing/fanfiction/tumblr on that video! I keep this blog pretty private.

Anyway, what did take away from my writing is A WRITING COURSE! Can you believe :) the :) irony :) I signed up for this writing course because I’ve always really wanted to publish a book aka basically give birth. As a teenager, I followed a few YA authors like they were gods, and when I attended signings, I was starstruck! I’d be like, “Girl, your mind!” So there I was, looking up how to publish a goddamn book and realizing that there were so many things to it other than just writing. It was discouraging to say the least! Then two years ago, I mentioned my hobby to my therapist and she suggested taking a writing course.

She (bless her heart) even searched up local colleges for me and opened my eyes to the fact that educational institutions held entire courses dedicated to romance writing. Wow. Of course, I rejected her idea because of the kind of person I am.

I’m kidding.

I’m not.

LOL ok so I was like “I don’t want to take a writing course because I don’t want people to judge my writing and tell me to write romance a certain way or else it doesn’t feel organic. And what if I lose my interest in it? Then what will I do with my free time? And what if people find my shit really fucking weird? etc”

I put the idea off for a year and finally came back to it last year when I found myself taking frequent trips to the library to write for a whole day. I would buy a Booster Juice, some sushi or Subway, and then I would park my ass on a plastic library chair for 5-8hrs straight. Come Fall/Winter, with the knowledge that I had some basic self-discipline (lmao), I looked into writing courses. I decided to take an online romance writing course that would start February 2020.

Guess when my country began seeing COVID cases? February 2020. Oh boy!

So my lifestyle changed, my work changed, and then I have school work?!?! My dumb ass hasn’t touched anything school related in three years. I was like “you know what? I’m going to try! I’m going to want to learn, and I’m going to put in effort.” Holy shit!!!!! I’ve learned that school still stresses me out lol it doesn’t matter that my grades literally don’t matter in this course. I’m still stressed.

That’s not to say I didn’t like this course. I really enjoyed it because I actually did learn a lot. My instructor (professor???) was also really...ELOQUENT LMAO Her lecture notes would spill mad tea but in the most polite way possible. I have yet to see any of my marks or read any of her comments (due to my fragile ego) but I am excited to do so.

One example of her brilliance in getting her message across is this little section about active vs passive verbs. We’ve all done this lesson hundreds of times in high school, but OMG the line that she uses at the end really solidifies the difference! After reading that, I decided not to skip any of the other readings lmao home girl had my respect.

OK ANYWAY! Back to me stressing! I was very stressed with every assignment. It was nice to be challenged to write differently (creating better mood, fleshing out characters more) because the end products were all...”nice”. But that shit took so much energy that I couldn’t write anymore! I couldn’t think of new plots that I was interested in :( It also didn’t help that I was going through other personal issues, and my libido was nonexistent. As a result, I have so many intros to stories because I’ve had to force myself to think of something for this course, but I never was truly interested in them to actually write it all out from start to finish. Not to mention, I have not written a sex scene since February lol

Then came the final assignment that I just submitted two days ago. OMG. It was a straight up publisher’s package. You had to have a 20pg manuscript. You had to write a query letter/cover letter. You had to research which publisher you would submit to. IT WAS SO SCARY.

I was going to write a whole new story for this manuscript but after writing 4k words, literally nothing was happening in the story and I was so bored. So I scrapped it all and took one of my most recent stories (Universal Differences, but in third person lmfaooo) and tried to tweak it. It was soooo difficult!!! Of course, I also procrastinated this whole thing because procrastination is one of my character traits. On the last three days, I pulled 8-10hrs non-stop everyday to finish it (unrelated, but I watched the SuperM 100 MV after one of these days, and I had to close my laptop immediately after the video because I felt like the MV was attacking me to stay awake LOL). There were so many times where I legit hated myself and my writing and nearly cried because I would think back on all the love that you guys gave to that story and then I’d be like “THE STORY (and, in turn, me as a person) IS SO UNDESERVING OF ANY LOVE AT ALL.”

See, this is why I went to a therapist a few years back loooool I had to rewire my brain to dissociate my writing from myself. I had to keep reminding myself that even if my prof didn’t like it, I would still get good feedback at the end of the day and none of that feedback would reflect me as a person. That even if she told me that I was never going to be able to ever publish anything, there are many writers who were told the same thing and came out of it alive and prosperous because they continued to work hard. I have a whole ass template now of what to send to a publisher/agent. If I wanted to, I would have the skill base to take a story and know where to direct it for publication.

And I would have the confidence to do that!!! Because I’ve already done it once!!!

Something cute my prof said when one of the students said they were overwhelmed:

[ I think it can help if you just think of it as the business processes of that industry - and not you laying your heart and soul out in front of some stranger to judge. :)]

;____________;

OK that is all for now, I think! Since I have submitted my final assignment, my imagination has come free of its reigns so I hope to get more stories out to you guys! Thank you for the requests too! The wilder they are, they more they get my brain going hehehehehehehhehe have a good week everyone~

[aiden-png]

hi~ purple for the colour ask thingy! 💜💜

omg ok!! thank you for the ask! answers below the cut so I don’t flood people’s dash XD

what’s your astrological sign? Libra! (that’s all I know lol)

what’s the best piece of advice you ever received? hmm... this is a tricky one bc I can’t remember many exact instances of getting good advice from someone. so I’ll go with my favorite memory of getting advice! when I was in high school I worried a lot about my grades and my health suffered bc of it. my uncle hung out with me one day and told me ‘mandatory education is just baby sitting so parents can go to work. your performance doesn’t matter, your health does.’ that advice saw me through high school and I have a much better relationship with grades now!

when’s the last time you followed your instincts? I follow my instincts a lot! I can’t say for sure when the last time was, but about a month ago I had a bad feeling about someone at my uni and decided to avoid them and warn a friend. turns out that was for the best! ^^;

what’s your favorite food? rare steak and mashed potatoes. literally no competition, hands down my favorite meal XD and I rarely get it so it’s super special!

what’s your secret dream? okay so I have a dumb one right now and I highly doubt it’ll ever happen bc it’s such a huge gamble... but I think it’d be awesome to create a publishing company that releases work by BIPOC, LGBT+, and women creators--notably work that highlights the experiences of these creators by having a diverse cast of characters and personal storylines. I understand comics/graphic novels a lot better than prose publishing, but I wouldn’t want to limit the scope of such a company just to illustrated narratives. I’d also love to be able to do anthologies, seek out Scholastics’ award winners for publication, and find fic writers... it’s a crazy dream though and I’m not sure if it’s the route I should take, whether or not I could do it. the Dream would be writing original prose professionally and living off royalties, but that really is a pipe dream XD I know I gotta work in the film industry or publishing or advertising, that even freelance isn’t safe... so I don’t know. that’s my secret dream I guess :,)