#and the heart-shaped box is inspired by THE original heart-shaped box because the dream of the 90s is ALIVE yalce!

[tokiro07]

Cipher Academy ch.41 thoughts

[You Have Chosen...Wisely]

Danny, you're doing...what I believe and hope to be a good job for the most part, but dude, what the hell? Is Yonakiuguisu's sister's name "Invicious" or "Amvicious"? As far as I can find, you don't have a twitter like David Evelyn, which would be really helpful for putting out statements to acknowledge things like that

God, this really is Medaka Box all over again...I still see people calling the nurse Aoiki instead of Aoki!

Last week, I didn't make any definitive statement on which choice that Iroha would make, but I did suggest that if he chose the dancer over his friend, he'd do it because that's what the friend would do. I was close, but not quite right: he chose the dancer because he wouldn't be able to face his friend if he'd abandoned someone else, and only wants to see his friend after achieving his dream of ending all wars

This is pretty typical shonen stuff, and definitely a Nisio move (see: Hitoyoshi not marrying Medaka for ten years until he proved he was her equal), but man it's a narrative choice that I eat up. That sort of conviction is always something that makes characters easy to get invested in since it gives more weight to their goals, and it provides a lot of opportunity for drama, like the two of them having a chance reunion before that time or otherwise being forced together at a low point for Iroha

It also helps recontextualize Iroha's original statement that he wants to end all wars. Originally, I thought it was something he just said to appease Oboro, or maybe that he was inspired by Kogoe, but now I'm thinking that Am/Invicious is actually the one who inspired him. What she said or did doesn't really matter right now, but whatever it was, I think that's what's shaped all of Iroha's actions up to this point. Protecting Kogoe, choosing not to use the Glasses Weapon, picking Kasuri during the Casse-Tete Quartet, all of that could well be an attempt to emulate [X]vicious, and our meeting her will make many of the pieces of Iroha's character fall into place (the rest of course will be put in place by meeting his dad)

Also, she's definitely First Girl. The Childhood Friend. The gold standard by which all other girls in the Cipher Acadaharem will be judged. Or they're too close for that to even be an option, who knows, but I'm willing to bet that at least Anonymity or Kasuri are gonna get competitive

Speaking of Anonymity, I'm sad to see that she's not in the starting lineup, but she's gotten so much shine lately that I can't complain. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, so it's going to be fun to see her return, especially since I'm more than willing to bet that it'll be as a member of Class F's team to capitalize on that plot point

I also love that Hanagoromo is the one to join from Class E; she's easily been the one from that class with the most presence, both in that she's reappeared a number of times (seen when Iroha recruited Yugata to the Trilemma and during the Trilemma itself), AND was hiding during every major story beat prior to her introduction. Her gimmick is super fun, her sniper imagery is inventive, and gosh darnit, she's just really pretty. I think she's my 4th cutest (Anonymity, Yosaimura, Yugata), but that's subject to change

I enjoyed Oboro's deference to Kasuri before joining the team too, it's a nice little callback to their shared introductory story. That's all I really have to say on the subject for now, but I might revisit it later

It looks like we're going to be entering the metaverse next week, but honestly I won't be surprised if Nisio finds a way to stall for a few more chapters. We're so close to the 1-year anniversary, and that seems like a milestone he'd want to time a little better. Either he's going to stall, or he's going to use the anniversary for something specific within the metaverse. Since we don't know yet what the metaverse is going to be like, I can't really hazard a guess on how it will alter the dynamic of the story, but it really does feel a lot like how it felt waiting to get to the Grand Line in One Piece. It's only the starting line, but it feels like a huge payoff in and of itself

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #5: In which Donna’s wish is Cameron’s command

[CN: food, eating mentions, and descriptions of food displays]

.

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After Donna asked her if she might consider putting up Valentine’s Day decorations for February of 2021, Cameron went directly into research mode. She didn’t plan to admit it to Donna, but Cameron felt like a holiday decor project was exactly what she needed. From the comfort of the living room couch, Cameron began her hunt for useful information on her laptop.

She became frustrated much more quickly than she thought she would. Eyebrows scrunching behind the frames of her reading glasses, Cameron griped, “Okay so the first problem here, is that the origin of Valentine’s Day isn’t anywhere near as compelling as the origin of Halloween, or ghost stories. I mean, a Christian martyr? Really?” Wrinkling her nose skeptically, she scrolled further down the webpage she was on, and said, “Not only am I not moved by his story or his proselytizing, but none of this has anything to do with love or couples or even fertility or family!” Clicking back to the search engine page, she said, “The second problem is that doing research used to be satisfying, but now it sucks. And it’s all because of the internet. We ruined everything with the internet and search, Donna.”

Donna, sitting several feet away on their recliner, looked up from her crossword puzzle. “So, no decorations then?” 

Cameron sighed. “I didn’t say that. I just think that I’m gonna have to take a different approach. The literal origins of the holiday are not the angle for this particular project.” Quietly, she switched over to researching the origins of the commercial version of the holiday. “Maybe,” she said to herself, “a more aesthetic-based approach?” She looked up at Donna, and said, “Do you mind if I turn on the tv and stream something? I was thinking about putting on the more recent Picnic at Hanging Rock.”

“Oh, that’s perfect! That literally starts on Valentine’s Day!” Donna enthused. “We should sit down and rewatch it sometime in the next couple weeks!” Then, calming herself down, she added, “But sure, go ahead. Whatever your research requires,” Donna smiled at her. 

Cameron picked up the remote, turned on the television, searched for the show, found it, and started the first episode. She went back to looking at her computer, and searched for basic decor ideas. After a few minutes, she said, “The third problem is that traditional Valentine’s decorations are just, like, red. Like really, extremely red.”

“What’s wrong with red?” Donna pouted.

“Nothing, but I just don’t feel like it really goes with the whole ‘I throw stones and I live in glass houses because I’m a modern woman who has it all!’ thing you have going on in here?”

“Hey, it’s your house, too!” Donna chuckled. “You have a point, though.”

Defiantly, Cameron said, “That’s okay. I will figure something out. My wife asked me to decorate for Valentine’s Day, and I don’t plan to let her down.”

Cameron spent the next morning sorting through their collection of fall and winter holiday decorations, and pulled out items to be repurposed, and wound up looking through their other supplies for inspiration. In the afternoon, she was back on the computer, searching this time for items to buy. Sitting at the kitchen island, Cameron sighed heavily. “I wish…” she started. She sighed again, and said, “I really wish that we could just go to a craft store and wander through it for hours.”

Donna, who has sitting across from her, and scrolling through one of her social media feeds, looked up, and snorted, “What, so you could complain about how everything looks ugly and cheap under the fluorescent lights, only to then buy a ton of it, take it home, and then somehow make it look beautiful and amazing?”

“Yes,” Cameron replied. “Exactly.” It took over an hour, and much agonizing, but eventually, she made her selections, entered her billing information, and closed her browser. She managed to stay offline for the rest of the day.

Early the next morning, Cameron asked Donna, “A great big outdoor garden store, that should be like…relatively safe to go to, right? As long as we wear our masks and gloves? And we go early?” Donna didn’t have to be asked twice. They got dressed, and arrived at their favorite garden store a few minutes after it opened. Cameron hurriedly bought a large quantity of potted violets and a bunch of metal flower pots before hustling Donna back to the safety of their car. 

Over the next few days Cameron began to work on crafting, baking, and candymaking, as deliveries of her ordered craft supplies started to trickle in. (She compulsively wiped every new item down with disinfectant out of an abundance of anxiety and caution.) By the next weekend, she had everything she thought she needed. On the first Saturday of the month, a week before Valentine’s Day, she gathered everything that she’d amassed so far in the dining room. 

She set the last of several boxes down on the table, and Donna, who was drinking a second cup of coffee, looked up just in time to see Cameron tying her bandana around her head like a headband. The bandana, which had accompanied Cameron all the way from Tokyo, was white, and it had the red circle of the Japanese flag, or the Hinomaru, on it. On both sides of the red circle there was lettering, Japanese kanji. The first time Donna saw Cameron put the bandana on, just before they deep cleaned Donna’s house together for the first time, she had asked Cameron what the kanji said. Gravely, through gritted teeth, Cameron had replied, “Kamikaze.” Donna had laughed, and then realized that she was being serious. 

Putting down her mug, Donna exclaimed, “Daniel-san!” 

Cameron took a deep breath, and said, “I’m trying to center myself and focus, Donna. Please.”

“I’m flattered by all the work you’ve already put into honoring my request,” Donna said. “But I think I’m gonna go upstairs so you can decorate in peace. I’d like to be surprised when I see the final result!” She stood up, taking her mug and phone with her, and headed toward the den, stopping to kiss Cameron on the cheek on her way. 

When Donna returned to the kitchen several hours later to make lunch, the dining room table was covered in silk flowers, jars, doilies, and print outs and paper lace and all sorts of colorful paraphernalia. “How’s it going?” she called out.

“Slowly,” Cameron answered, “but it’s going. And it’s not like I’ve got anywhere to be, so!”

She took a quick break to eat a sandwich with Donna, and then went back to the dining room, and Donna went up to the bedroom, where she checked in with Joanie and Haley and their families, sent text messages to Tonya, Risa, and Katie Herman, and then started reading about current tech and social media platform news. She was clicking out of an article on Section 230 reform when Cameron knocked on the door frame. 

Looking up from their bed, Donna asked, “Is it done? Can I see?” She jumped up from the bed and ran toward the door.

“I need you to adjust your expectations,” Cameron said, walking her down their hallway. Cameron stopped by the door to the den and switched on the light. Donna peered in, not seeing any difference at first, and then she noticed the faux ivy that Cameron had carefully attached to their bookcases. She stepped into the room, and then noticed the doilies on every surface, and the mason jars of high-quality pink and white silk peonies, which were surrounded by cards from a Victorian-themed tarot deck, which Cameron had stuck down to the doilies under them, to make them look as if they’d casually been left on the table. There were two sets of gloves by one jar, an aged-looking leather diary by another one, and a small framed print of a hand-drawn portrait of two Gibson girls by another. 

“It’s subtle, or subtle-ish,” Donna smiled back at Cameron, “but it’s really nice. It’s very Picnic at Hanging Rock, but with maybe a better adjusted headmistress, right? I love it.” 

They went down the hall and down the four steps to the ‘first’ floor, and then into the kitchen, where Donna’s eye was drawn to the centerpiece Cameron had arranged on the island. She’d repotted the violets into three of the metal pots, and had made and cut out a silhouette of two young women in full-length Victorian dresses, hand in hand, attached them to skewers, and stuck them into the flower pots. It looked almost as if the girls were walking through a field of purple-blue flowers.

Donna went to smell the flowers, only to be distracted by the display on the dining room table. Eyes wide, she instead walked toward the table. She turned to look back at Cameron and said, “Did you make all of this?”

“No, some if it I definitely ordered off the internet,” Cameron admitted. She’d set up an elegant silver multi-tiered pastry stand and loaded it with paper cups full of homemade white and milk chocolate truffles and squares of peppermint bark that had red and pink swirled into them, squares of milk, dark, and peanut butter fudge, bite sized anatomical hearts molded from red-tinged milk chocolate, and red cinnamon candies, cherry sours, and raspberry flavored hard candies. Next to the pastry stand was Donna’s trusty cake server, which was piled with red velvet crinkle cookies. Both were set up on top of large doilies, underneath their accompanying glass covers, and both were surrounded with red silk flower petals and an eye-catching design of heart and diamond and playing cards, all of which Cameron had somehow sewn down so that it would lay flat, but somehow still look slightly rumpled. 

“Remember a few years ago when we did Penny Dreadful Halloween for the trick-or-treaters? During our Vanessa Ives phase? A lot of that stuff came in handy for this,” Cameron helpfully explained.

“Did I miss anything?” Donna looked around. She turned toward the living room, couch, and then noticed a large heart-shaped box placed in the center of the coffee table, with Donna’s pair of good candlesticks and brand new red candles set up on both sides of it, yet another doily underneath it all The box was anchored by a large, white, ceramic anatomical heart, and surrounded by shells, smaller porcelain rabbits and birds, and dried flower petals. 

“It’s not much, but, it was fun to try?” Cameron shrugged.

“Oh, shush!” Donna threw her arms around Cameron’s neck, kissed her, and said, “It’s beautiful, and I love it. Thank you for trying to make things feel festive even though almost everything in the world totally sucks.” She kissed her again, and said, “Wanna go celebrate by making out?”

“Yes,” Cameron said, “but, I haven’t eaten in hours, can we have dinner first?” 

“Yes, absolutely! Whatever my doting wife wants!” Donna agreed. 

[pocket-luv101]

I like to tell people to buy the physical volumes of the manga because there are things that Tanaka will expand on in the story that she didn’t include in the original release of the magazine chapters. There is a scene added to Mahiru searching through Kuro’s mind and it could explain how Mahiru was able to change his Lead from a broom to a spear (and later a key). It’s a skill that he learned from Licht. He remembers Licht’s words and Mahiru realizes that his willpower could influence the world around him and change the shape of his Lead.

Mahiru’s Lead “Elpis” is actually his own spin on the spell Tsurugi used to save Mahiru from the gunshot. When Tsurugi is inside Mahiru’s world, he shows him how each person has a box in their hearts where they lock away their pain. The chapter highlights Tsurugi’s box with a crack, Mahiru’s box that Tsurugi offers to hide away in his family box and Touma’s box that’s covered in rust. Mahiru takes all this knowledge Tsurugi gave him to make Elpis and use it to stop Touma.

Hugh and Mikuni describe the Lead and its purpose very different as “power the Servamps lend to the Eve” and “a way to tie down the Servamp” respectively. Mahiru points out that their description of what a Lead is only one side of the bigger picture. The Lead may be a power given to an Eve through a contract but the Eve has some influence over its shape. You can see how each Lead reflect their Eve.

Mahiru, constantly changing: His Lead adjust to the best way to help a person (a broom to escape, a spear to fight and a key to understand others).

Misono, a chair: Misono doesn’t fight directly and he prefers to sit down and think through a strategy.

Licht, boots and a piano: Shows his preference to kicking in fights and his piano reflects his dream to inspire people with music.

I remember a post that said Mahiru’s Lead is the only one who that isn’t psychical and can change. I also think Mahiru’s Lead is unique from the others. They should all have the ability to change though. The obvious example is Licht who has a Lead that can switch between two forms. We also see how Misono can adjust his chair to trap an enemy in his fight with Belkia. So far, we haven’t seen Mikuni fight with his Lead but the way he summons it suggest he can control how it moves like a snake.

Out of all the Eves, Mahiru has the most influence over their Lead to change its form. My headcanon is that Mahiru have a strong connection to both Kuro and Inner Sloth. Contrast that to Misono. Yes, Misono and Lily are close brothers but it was only recently that Inner Lust acknowledge that he is no longer a child and can fight (I wonder how Misono’s Lead would’ve grown if Lily never lost his Jinn). Though this is just a headcanon since there’s not much in the story to back this up.

[soliverse]

sugar, sugar - z.cl

reader x chenle

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: a kiss in the cheek, cuss words, pessimism (I think that’s about it? Let me know if I missed something.

word count: 6.2k

part of the Candy Hearts Collab by @127-mile (click the link if you want to read the rest of the collab)

synopsis: Your whole life, especially working for your boss, is a living nightmare. That was until you got some sugar in your life.

inspiration:

Isn’t It Romantic (The film from Netflix by Rebel Wilson),

Sugar, Sugar by the Archies

networks

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet

February 13,202x / 8:00 AM

It was a quiet and peaceful morning. Which is too bad since that’s not what you’re aiming for.

Your alarm should’ve sounded at 6:00AM. Instead, it woke you up an hour late despite how much fumbling and crying that you did make it work last night.

You have completely ditched breakfast, running as fast as you can to the bus stop that never comes and leave as scheduled.

Already half an hour late, you still sat down that bus seat, fidgeting as if not staying calm on your seat will make the bus ride shorter. Right now, the only thing that you’re still holding on to is that small, sliver of hope that you get there before your boss does.

After climbing down the vehicle, you ran like you’re in a marathon and looked for that one window that your coworker always leaves open whenever you’re late like today. You ungracefully climbed up the window of the storage room and met Jisung, who’s already getting himself ready before opening.

“Is he here yet?”

You whispered as you tried to dust your red shirt and smoothened out your wrinkled uniform. The goal is to make yourself look decent, an attempt that you barely managed to accomplish

“He just came in. Hurry up before he notices.”

You mouthed “Thanks” to Jisung before leaving the storage room and sneak into the main entrance to log yourself in for today.

Your eyes scanned the candy-themed decorations for any signs of life (or danger, in your boss’ case) but he is nowhere to be found. You walked casually towards the main entrance, breathing only a sigh of relief as soon as you get to the front door.

Finally feeling at ease, you pressed your thumb on the device that records your time and gave yourself a mental pat in the back for actually pulling it off. At least, before a hand pops out of nowhere and touched you by shoulder.

You yelped at the surprise appearance of your ever-so-stealthy boss right behind you.

“You’re late again.”

He was staring at you with those black intense eyes and his resting bitch face. His expression always made you worry because there’s no way to actually now if he’s mad or not. You kept your head down and tried to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

“Surprised? I saw your little stunt by the window. You know that it’s right in front of my office, right?”

He patted your shoulder before placing his hands back to his pockets.

“You also know that I’ll be deducting that on your payroll, right?”

“Yes sir.”

He didn’t even let you finish and just turned his back at you, walking towards his office.

“That reminds me. We should bolt that window down before someone else tries to sneak in and steal. Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.”

As soon as he’s out the way, you rolled your eyes and went back to straightening the wrinkles off of your uniform.

“Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.” You said, mimicking him made faces behind his back.

As if Jisung knows how to shut that window properly.

 After that delightful conversation, you helped Jisung in refilling the candy containers, tidied the shop by little bit, and breathe for one final time today before you opened the shop.

Some people may have imagined working on a candy store to be a dream. You get to bask in all of the aesthetics, you get to interact with children every day, and there’s that perk that you get to enjoy an unlimited supply of sweet treats during your shift.

Oh boy, some people couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your location is near an amusement park, which is already hectic as it is, but you also need to deal with stuff that all retail staff goes through.

If you were to make an entire list of the stressful situations that you have to deal with every single shift, it would take you all day.

There are children throwing temper tantrums because their parents refused to buy the candy that the wanted, entitled Karens demanding free candy because you made her baby cry, teenagers who thinks they’re so smart by stealing handful of candies from their containers while you’re distracted. It’s a mess.

And that’s beside your main source of stress. That one is sitting on his office at the back of the store, probably playing some game on his phone while you act as both staff and manager, is the best boss in the world, Mr. Zhong Chenle.

Note the sarcasm.

That guy deserves a whole separate list by himself.

///

So far, the first few hours of your shift went smoothly. There were a few customers here and there but nothing that you and Jisung can’t handle.

All is well. But if you’ve worked retail before, you would know that those words are cursed.

You’ve always had this thing where you’d get a stomachache whenever something bad is about to happen. Ever since that one nice lady earlier told you to keep the change with a very kind smile, your stomach has been grumbling like crazy.

You sneaked into the counter and sat there for a moment to rest. The pain is bearable, but it makes it very hard for you to breathe properly. After taking a few deep breaths, the pain subsided a little bit.

Until, someone wrapped their arms around you, startling you off the chair and had you freefalling straight into your butt.

“I’m not paying you to slack off Y/N. Do something. I don’t know… rearrange the Valentines display. Just don’t sit around while there’s so much stuff to do.”

He dusted his overprized outfit that probably cost more than your wage, even grabbing the hand sanitizer from his pocket, completely acting like you had a contagious virus that.

Fighting the urge to talk back, you just turned around and went back to work.

Someday, I’m going to punch that resting bitch face off his face.

Someday.

You went back and found Jisung painstakingly arranging the M&M piece by piece, arranged by color, size and filling.

The kid makes you worry sometimes.

He’s a good kid but sometimes he can be a bit… clueless?

You remembered the first time that your boss bought a cotton candy machine and asked you and Jisung to figure out how to operate it. He almost left work with nine fingers that day.

“Hey kid. Bossman wants us to change the Valentines display.” You explained as you walk over to the center of the room where the display case is placed.

“Not again. What does he want this time?”

“I don’t know. His only instruction is do something.”

He whined for a bit, but he followed your lead shortly after and started removing all of the candy jars on display one by one.

You started working on it as well, hoping that he (aka the owner) won’t notice that you just switched the glass containers of the candy displays with each other and then placed them back in their original place.

You realized that he probably didn’t know what the display looked like in the first place. It’s just more unnecessary work just to keep you moving.

To pass the boredom, you decided to dote on the kid that is busy making a bouquet of out of rose-shaped lollipops right beside you.

“Sooo…”

You said in a high-pitched voice and tried to lighten up the mood a little.

“Any plans for the V-day?”

He stops for a moment, bowing his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“I’m taking this girl out bowling.”

You squealed and poked his side to tease him. He used to be a little highschool kid that you were told to keep an eye on just in case he accidentally kills himself. It was a headache at first, but he grew on you and now he feels like your honorary little brother.

“Awww. My Jisungie is grown up. It felt like it was just yesterday when I was to trying to teach you to tie your own shoelaces. And now, you’ve got a girlfriend”

“Uhm Y/N. That was yesterday.”

You were about to pinch his cheeks once again when Chenle squeezed himself in between you and Jisung.

“And now you’re flirting. Geez. Do I have to do everything around here?”

Why does this guy keep popping out of nowhere?

He stared you and Jisung down before he slithered back to his office once again. You just stood there in disbelief, shaking your head as you went back to work.

///

The end of the day went by smoothly, which made you worry even more. As you return some of the candy displays back to the stock room, you can’t help but think that today was just the calm before the storm.

Take last year’s Valentines for example.

The shop was stuffed with that a customer fainted because of suffocation. Jisung was bleeding because some guy punched him for flirting with his girlfriend (even though the poor kid is just being nice and gave her one of the extra candy flowers.)

And oh, no dates. While everyone is busy celebrating the love that they will share together you celebrated at the fact that the day is all over.

Ever since you’ve started working at that shop, you’ve never really tried to meet new people. You keep explaining that you’re tired all day. That your job is very demanding time-wise and physically. But in reality, no one just asked you out.

You could’ve quit, but who would take in a highschool graduate without work experience? You’ve barely saved up for a whole college semester, let alone the curriculum. There’s nothing to do besides suck it up.

It’s just one of those things that you stop celebrating as you get older.

Valentine’s day, your birthday, your birthday which is the same day as Valentine’s day.

Sighing, you picked up the stack of empty boxes that you needed to take outside for the garbage truck. Once again, Chenle pops out of nowhere, hitting some of the boxes that tumbled back on the floor. His are arms folded at his chest, sneering because of the mess that he created.

“Will you clean up this mess? It’s almost closing.”

You just pursed your lips, nodding as you stacked the boxes once again, trying very hard not to lose your composure.

“And will you please close the lights outside this time? I doubt that can pay for the damages if this shop burns down.”

Back turned against your employer, you picked up the boxes from the floor. You’re just glad that it is tall enough to cover most of your face. If someone could see your face right now, they would say that it is the face of someone that is about to murder somebody. Which is getting closer and closer to reality every single time Chenle opens his mouth.

Besides, you left one of the lights open one time. His petty ass just can’t seem to live it down.

“I’ll make sure to double check before leaving, sir.”

“Good. Make it quick.”

Holding out the boxes, you figured that he’d at least hold the door out for you. You had that one tiny glimmer of hope that he’s nice after all and you judged him too hastily.

Nope.

He slams the door right behind him and closed the lights from outside.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You slammed the boxes down to search for the lights and open the door for yourself.

Just one punch. I need just one punch and that’s it. He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.

Scrambling in the dark, you almost faceplanted as you tripped one of the boxes in your way. With your arms stretched out as you feel up your surroundings, it took you a few minutes before you’ve finally managed to open the switch and see the mass that you made while stumbling.

You just facepalmed and stood there for a while, reminding yourself to take deep breaths and calm yourself before you actually burn this place down.

One by one, you stacked the boxes once again in one corner, making sure secure them this time. Keeping the door open, you’ve successfully placed them inside the bins.

One box in particular fell down to the ground. You picked it up to stuff it back to the garbage can but the motion made a rattling noise.

I must’ve missed a piece.

You dusted off the nearby pavement and sat down so you can open the box.

Inside was a few bags of candy, adorned with the usual red and white swirls with the text “Sweet Escape” taking over most of the packaging.

This one must be new.

You stuffed the box back to the garbage can, looked around for signs of a snooping, grumpy adult and placed candy on one of your back pockets.

If your boss found out that you messed up the inventory again, he will not hesitate to fire you. You’re just gonna have to sneak it inside before he gets there tomorrow. Well, assuming that your alarm clock works this time.

///

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

You closed the door behind you and took off your shoes as entered your living room.

Throwing your keys and jacket aside, you’ve just noticed that the lights are all off and the house is eerily quiet.

You grunted as your sore feet walked itself to the kitchen, only to find a single note on the counter.

Me and your sister went out to eat tonight. Just order something for dinner

Love Mom,

All you ever wanted that night that you just to a nice, warm dinner and go straight to the bed and shut yourself from the world.

Great. No breakfast and dinner.

Fuck my life.

You threw the note in the garbage bin and just stomped your way to your room. You felt like breaking down at that moment but you didn’t have the strength to make cry and make a fuss. Maybe you can just sleep all the frustrations off and feel a lot better tomorrow.

Maybe it doesn’t get much worse than this.

You scoffed.

Sike.

As if.

You slammed yourself to bed but soon realized that it wasn’t a very good idea.

You felt something in your pocket popped and it made a huge mess in your bed. You took it out of the pocket and realized that it was the bag of candy from earlier. The seams popped out and tore open from being squished by a tired, underpaid employee.

At this point, you just glared and cursed yourself once as you cleaned the candy off of your bed. Some of the candy is inside the box, so you cupped your hands and poured the remaining contents to your palms. It was filled with tiny colorful candy hearts, which looked appetizing despite the tiny bits of disfiguration and the fact that it was in your pockets the whole time.

Well, I guess this is dinner then.

You popped the candy in your mouth, letting it sit as it oozes a strong citrusy flavor. It had a texture similar to those fever tablets for kids. In fact, it tasted like medicine a bit, too.

The citrus taste kept on spreading in your mouth and your face now contorted to a grimace. It felt like all moisture is getting sucked out of your body.

They sell this to kids?

You ran to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to water the taste down. It didn’t do anything, so, you kept on chugging more and more water until you’ve finished an entire gallon of liquids.

You sat down at the kitchen floor and breathe a sigh of relief. The taste finally left your tastebuds, but you can still feel your body feeling repulsed by the extreme sour sugary candies that you just consumed.

Drinking one more glass of water, you went back to your room and changed into your comfortable clothes, finally ready to leave this day behind.

Let’s just hope that those candy bits won’t get you sued tomorrow.

///

February 14,202x / 8:00 AM

The alarm started blaring off from its place, scaring you shitless and making you jump out of bed in panic.

 You could've have been happier and more annoyed at the same time.

You leaned against your bedroom wall, giving yourself a few minutes to calm yourself down before you decided to turn off the alarm.

Once your heartbeat has cooled down, you stepped back to the bedside table and pressed the alarm button to check the time.

8:00AM

"Dammit!”

Your heart started to race once again. This time, it’s the adrenaline rush that’s making you move faster than normal. You even contemplated about getting a shower. However, you're already screwed as it is, you're not going to work without breakfast and shower again.

You stepped back to your room, wrapped on a bathrobe and panting like you just ran a marathon. Digging into your own closet, you noticed that your uniform, a red polo shirt and matching star white pants, is missing from your closet.

"Mom! Have you seen my uniform?"

You shouted from your room but you heard no answer. It seems like they didn't stay the night either.

Great.

Seeing as how your day started, you've deemed the rest of the day unsalvageable and just grabbed the closest thing to red that you have on your closet, which is a red frilly blouse and a white paneled skirt that you've never worn before. It's right at the bottom of your closet, so you've figured you or your mother bought this before and just forgot all about it.

You also grabbed one of your newer shoes to match and bolted to the front door as fast as possible.

You locked the door behind you, only to be spooked as you turned around to see a car parked in your driveway.

It was one of those fancy ones too. The ones that have their doors open at the side like an alien spaceship.

You only know one person in the world that's flashu enough to ride one. And he's just came out of the car.

"Happy birthday! You're pretty early..."

Chenle smiled as jogs over to you, keys jingling on his fingers, and gave you a small peck on the cheek.

You stood there in your porch, frozen.

Zhong Chenle knows how to smile. And he knows about your birthday

"I was about to call you but I didn't want to wake you up. So, I came over instead. Did you eat your breakfast yet?"

You shook your head hesitantly, still unable to speak and process the situation.

"No good, young lady. Go back inside. We're not leaving with an empty stomach."

 ///

 Here's something that you never encounter every day. Your spawn-of-the-devil employer is making you pancakes in the kitchen. And you finally have fresh milk in your fridge.

What happened to the world while you were sleeping?

"I'm not a professional chef but at least it's edible."

He said as he placed a perfectly fine plate full of fluffy pancakes right in front of you. Is this him being cocky?

He sets the apron aside and sat down right in front you, grabbing a plate and a piece of pancake for himself.

"Go on... Tell me if it's good."

You hesitantly took a bite, and then chewed in silence as Chenle expectantly watched you from the side. You set the fork down, speechless.

They're as good on the inside as they looked on the outside.

 "You don't like it?"

He sounded upset. It wasn't like "I can't believe you forgot to do this thing that I told you" upset either. He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes and a bit of a pout.

You froze. What if all of this is trick? And this is just is way of firing you, like letting you down gently in case you formed a vendetta and burn the shop down in your anger.

Which, for the record, is partly true.

"Uhm. It's nice. It's very niceee"

In your panic, you might've overdone the compliment. It sounded like you're on gunpoint and you had to say it to live. Nevertheless, he still smiled to himself and took the compliment well, even pouring you another glass of milk so "it would go down better".

The interaction alone gave you the chills. It felt like you're walking on thin ice and the former Chenle will come out and bury you alive. But even that would've sound more real than what's about to happen next. 

Like the gentleman that he is, he opened the car door for you. You never even got the chance to question where the two of you are going. After sitting down, just when you're about you're about to ask, he held your hand and gave it a kiss.

"You buckled up?"

"Uhm. Yes..."

Still holding your hand, he pressed some buttons on the dashboard and then music started playing. You recognized that it was that song, Sugar Sugar by The Archies. It’s one of the songs that you ironically played in the candy shop. There was also Sugar by Maroon 5, Sugar by Florida.

Well, you get the point.

“Sugar Ah, honey, honey You are my candy girl And you got me wanting you…”

He proceeds to sing along to the song merrily as he backed up your driveway. Meanwhile you sat there quietly as you tried to assess your situation. 

Is this kidnapping? Would it be considered kidnapping if I willingly went inside the vehicle?

Once you’ve realized how ridiculous you sounded in your head, you relaxed for a bit and started humming along to the song. It was at this point that you realized that Chenle had a beautiful voice. The song didn’t have high notes, but it was hard to make your voice pop up with the middle register. It sounded stable, like he’s a recording artist.

The atmosphere at the shop would be much better if he sang like this all the time.

…which reminded you of something that Chenle might be neglecting to think.

Panic washed over you and soon, you can’t keep still and moved around your seat a lot.

“Are you comfortable?

He kept on glancing on your direction, keeping you in check for a few moments while he still kept an eye on the road,

“We can make a quick stop if you need something.”

Trying your best to keep yourself still, you finally sat down and placed both of your hands on your lap, like the kids at school when their parents ask them to behave.

“Where are we going again?”

The question finally popped out and you pursed your lips while trying to wait for the answer.

“I don’t know. It’s your day. We can go wherever you want to.”

“Oh.”

It’s not like him to be away from the shop at this time of the day, let alone the whole day. No matter how sucky he is, he did what is best for the shop. It was his baby.

And if the both of you aren’t going, then it only means one thing. His baby is screwed at the hands of someone.

"By the way, who's taking care of the candy shop?"

You tried to ask nonchalantly, but it only came out sounding more inconspicuous.

"Oh yeah. I left Jisung in charge."

He wistfully replied. Suddenly, you feel your head spinning from your seat from the sheer realization that he left the kid alone, in his shop, with no adult/proper supervision.

"You left Jisung alone... In charge... On Valentine's Day"

You turned your gaze away from him, trying to hide your internal panic. You'll be lucky if the guy made it alive until lunch by himself.

"Relax. He'll be fine. He's with the trainees. Figured it might teach them a thing or two in getting the actual job done."

“And with trainees too… oh my god.”

Great. More casualties.

“You don’t mind if we stopped by the shop first, do you?”

“Of course. You’re the boss.”

///

In a few minutes, he pulls over to the parking lot and you’re glad to see the shop in piece. On the outside at least.

You stepped inside the car and practically ran over to the inside of the shop, leaving Chenle behind.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I help you?”

Two unknown faces greeted you at the door. They must be the trainees that Chenle talked about earlier.

“Would you happen to know where Jisung is?”

They both nodded and pointed to the direction of the left side of the shop, which was supposed to be all the supplies were. Instead, there was Jisung on the register, which by the way looked different from what you can remember.

In fact, the whole shop looked nothing like it was yesterday. The colors seemed more vibrant and festive and the whole thing looked like a candy wonderland. To be honest, it reminded you of that one Katy Perry music video.

Jisung bowed at you formally and wore his usually customer service smile.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I—”

“How many fingers do you have now?”

You replayed the question in your head and it sounded just as crazy when it came out of your mouth. At this point, you decided to continue on with the question. For obvious safety reasons.

“Uh ma’am. What do you mean?”

“Hold your fingers up. How many do you have?”

He was hesitant to do as you say. Chenle just facepalmed and gestured him to do as you said, putting up all of his tall fingers in the air.

“Ten?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, almost rushing over to hug the confused Jisung when Chenle pulls you from behind.

“Please excuse her for the moment. She’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

He smiled and bowed to Jisung as an apology, another gesture that you haven’t seen him do before, pulling you outside the store to give you some air. Once you’ve reached the parking lot, he placed his hands on your shoulders to hold you still.

“Okay. Since when is hugging my staff became a thing?”

He stares you down with a genuine concerned look on his face.

He placed one of his hands on your forehead.

“It’s not like you’re sick either…”

Chenle sighs, finally releasing you from his grasp

“Tell me. What’s the problem?”

He sat you down at the pavement and gave you enough space to reflect on your actions.

You had the choice to say that you have absolutely no idea what’s happening to you right now, but you thought that he ought to know why you’re acting that way. Now, you just have to figure out how to explain it to him without sounding like a crazy person.

“I…”

You started slow, working your way into explaining that you woke up into this insane dream about how her boss is suddenly so nice to her that morning.

And then it hit you.

“I had a dream about you...”

Ideas started pouring down to your head, starting to piece together a story that actually made sense.

“And in that dream, you’re this mean guy that never cared about me and other people’s feelings. You just made everyone around you miserable. The dream felt so real so I’m very uncomfortable that you’re acting nice to me now.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded your head as an answer. Chenle pulls you over to a side hug, relief washing over him knowing that it wasn’t that bad as he made it up to be.

“I’m sorry if that mean version of me hurt you.”

He rested his head on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

“If I decided to be mean to you in a dream again, feel free to punch me or whatever. I promise to make up for all of it once you wake up.”

It was probably the nicest thing that anyone has said to you in a while. Even though it wasn’t actually him who’s hugging you and making you feel all warm inside, you’re not going to see your boss the same way again.

“You know what, why don’t we start now. There’s plenty of time today to make it up to you.”

He stood up from his seat and brushed himself, helping you do the same right after.

“Where does my y/n want to go right now?”

Your lips formed a mischievous smile.

You knew just where you wanted to go at that moment, but he’s probably not going to like it

///

“Would it hurt you to rest for one second?”

You’ve been running around the theme park for the whole day and Chenle just barely kept up to you and your antics. He gave you a small opportunity for a payback and you’re not going to let it slide. Even if it’s with nice Chenle.

You were about to run off again somewhere when he tugs you by the hem of your shirt.

“Y/N-ah, don’t you feel sick at all?”

Chenle’s eyes droop down as he tried to compose himself. As someone that doesn’t like heights and gets dizzy easily, it seems like he’s about to faint any minute now.

“But I want to ride the Ferris wheel.”

He went sheet white, if that is humanly possible. Chenle had barely enough time to recover from the roller coaster ride a few minutes ago and now you’re already on your way to hop in to another one.”

“Fine. We can rest. I don’t think my ears can handle any more of your screaming.”

You can hear Chenle complaining under his breath. The two of you went to the horror house a while ago and there was a high-pitched screaming the whole time. You’ve been teasing him with it ever since.

“I told you, that wasn’t me!”

“The only person inside is you and me. And I don’t remember screaming my own name for fifteen minutes.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he stopped midway and just took your hand to drag you at the nearest bench. He sat you down first before he took the seat right next to you, both palms on his face and trying to give himself a moment to breathe.

As much as you wished to torment that guy to death, he really looked sick to his stomach. He can barely lift his head up without taking deep breaths.

“You alright?”

You said as you patted his back gently, giving some time to relax and a moment to breathe.

“I’m fine. I did say that I’ll do anything for you today.”

He takes one last breathe before getting up the bench, only to lean on one side too much and almost toppling over.

“Yeah. I think were done for the day. You can barely stand up.”

You sat him back at the bench and caressed his back to get him to relax. Not even a minute after sitting back down, he did a thumbs up to let you know that he’s doing fine already.

“What time is it?”

“4:30. Why?”

He tried his best to stand up and keep himself still. This time, his attempt was successful.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can barely stand up. What makes you think that you can drive?”

“Just trust me.”

///

Sure enough, you both got to your house unscathed.

He told you to step out of the car, which you did, and he smoothly backed the car to your garage.

“How was that?”

He said smugly just as he came out of the car, keys jingling on his fingers once again. You can joke about his motion sickness but you can’t comment on his driving.

Chenle was then about to enter your house, but you stopped him just before he turned the doorknob.

“You know what, I had a lot of fun today. It’s probably the best birthday slash Valentine’s Day that I’ve had a whole life. I think you deserve this…”

You held up your fist into a ball and pretended to land a punch to his face. He winced, which gave you and opportunity to tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He stood there frozen for a few seconds, but it was replaced by a cheeky, boyish smile that he’s been hiding from you the whole time that you know him.

You twisted the doorknob and stepped inside your house first, when a popping sound greeted you from inside.

Turns out, those were party poppers.

“Surprise!”

Your whole family is there, alongside all of your friends from way back highschool.

“Sorry for missing you this morning sweetie, we needed some time for the party preparations. Chenle did a good job of distracting you the whole day.”

An arm wrapped itself on your shoulders and gave it a tight squeeze. It didn’t take long for you to find out who it was.

“She made me ride the roller coaster, twice.”

“Stop being a baby. I asked you the second time but you refused to come with me.”

Laughter fills the room and it went for the rest of the night. The celebration wasn’t fancy but it was enough for you to realize what life you’re missing in the real world. And as much you want to make it longer, sooner or later you’re going to have to come back to your old life.

That time was the next day.

///

February 14,202x again / 6:00 AM

The shrill sounds of the alarm clock woke you up, but you were smiling ear to ear. Something about your dream have placed you in a very good mood. Too bad you can’t remember the specific details. All you know is that there’s a car, the shop, the theme park… Zhong Chenle.

Why would it be a nice dream if your boss was in it?

Before you started conspiring some theories, you shook it off and started to get ready for today. To your surprise, the alarm woke you up on time. This means that you can take your sweet time in getting ready, possibly even make yourself an English breakfast for a change.

Your plans are foiled, however, when you realized that the kitchen wasn’t empty.

“Happy birthday…”

Your mom came from the living room to give you the tightest hug. She hasn’t hugged you like this for a long time, so you reciprocated and pulled her in a tighter embrace.

“I’m sorry that this is all we can afford for now…”

She sits you down the table and pushed the small bento cake right in front you. It is not bigger as your hands, but the pink icing and the decorations looked so delicate and beautiful.

“I promise to make you a better cake next year.”

“This is all I need Mom, thank you for doing this.”

///

Everything is going smoothly today. The bus is on time and the driver even gave you a small Valentine’s card as you went inside. For the first time in your life, you looked at the streets painted different shades of red and you’re perfectly fine with it.

You even got to work early. Doors are still shut down when you got there, so you decided to climb up the storage window so you don’t have to wait outside. As instructed, you finally locked it behind you and made it a point to be on time so you’ll never have to use it again.

You started with work right away, cleaning up as much as you can before everyone gets there. While you were mopping the main shop, you can hear keys jingling from outside, meaning that your boss already got there. The door swings forward and upon turning around, he opened the lights, only to see you standing in the middle of the shop.

He screamed at an ungodly pitch and almost fell down at his place.

“Oh, it’s just you. That wasn’t me, alright? ”

He dusted himself off tried his act together and be as cold as before, only to be embarrassed because you kept laughing at his face.

You tried to keep a straight face and bowed at him to excuse yourself. If your tardiness won’t get you fired today, it would probably be your excessive laughing.

“This is the horror house all over again.”

You swear that you heard him mumble something else, but you weren’t sure if you heard it right.

What are the odds that he dreamt about a horror house too, right?

Before you got the chance to go though, he said something that made your heart race for the rest of the day.

“You were there too, right? I just want you to know that that was really me.”

You turned around to see if he’s joking, but instead found a smiling Chenle at the other end of the shop.

“I actually liked you for a while now. So forgive me for always lashing out on you.”

He placed his hands on his pockets and walked slowly towards you, his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“Happy birthday Y/N. I don’t mind repeating that day again... just don’t make me ride the roller coaster twice this time.”

///

[aturtleinmiami]

INTERVIEW WITH ALEXA LASH 11.3.20 If you don’t know who Alexa Lash is, then you must “like” her on Instagram and follow her immediately. She has her very own “Sound check song” in which she’ll include a stranger or a friend in the lyrics and makes up an interesting story to begin her set. I find myself singing it sometimes so it’s quite catchy. Alexa has a powerful voice to match her lyrics. She began playing locally with a ukulele, then during quarantine picked up an acoustic guitar and learned to play on her own. Now, she feels more empowered than ever and her craft has taken a fiercer shape, just like the tattooed phoenix on her back. My personal favorite is, “Every Little Thing I Do” where she pleads for her lover to say those magic words, we girls desperately want to hear and then strums along to a frustrated rap because the lover isn’t responding. Although most of the songs Alexa sings are originals and her new EP is due out shortly, she covers anything from “Valerie” by Amy Winehouse, “Zombie” by The Cranberries to the local’s favorite, “Jolene” by Dolly Parton. Alexa has diamond eyes and a beautiful smile with a quick wit that will have you singing along with the crowd to “MIA” and cheering during breaks as she sips on her old fashion. Our Interview went like this: 
VA: It’s difficult for me to pinpoint your style of music, how would you describe it?
AL: It’s funny, I always have trouble answering this question because I feel like I sound a little different with the band and as like when I was with November May I felt that I sounded like you know, more like alternative, soulful, a little funky. Now what I’ve been doing is singer-songwriter stuff; I guess my style is storyteller with soul. A little folksy but not. I don’t know my inspirations are drawn from various places including like 80’s music and Hebrew songs from JCC, Jewish camp. VA: What inspires you to write? AL: Well, what inspires me to write now and what has been I mean are mostly just experiences either that I have been through or that people I know have been through like I’ve actually written songs for other people who are about other people’s life you know, telling a story, like if it’s my story that’s great, if it’s another person’s story that’s great or made up stories like I just imagined something happening or how I would react or a collection of things that have happened over the course of whatever amount of time. I like telling stories about real life or fictional life, a lot of it was about relationships but now it’s kind of transitioned. It went from just you know a lot of oh, heart break and you know, I’m suffering to now it’s emotions that I’m experiencing in quarantine and those trigger song ideas. I wrote about anxiety during quarantine, that was one of my first songs that got a lot of connectivity and traction during quarantine, people were like, “Alexa, I really like your song, I connect with it” and people would start telling me that, since that song. Then I wrote some songs about thinking about death, about loneliness, about stress and just like all those feelings combined and then just kept writing. I wrote more and more and more. I just finished a song the other day about thinking about my future because music has become a priority. VA: When you sing, “She’s Gonna Be Fine” I feel the hurt from your gut, it’s a beautifully painful song, do you harvest the emotions of when you wrote that song right before you sing it? AL: Yeah; She’s Gonna Be Fine is such a special song to me. I actually recorded it recently so it’s going to be on my EP that I release out of the four songs and trying to replicate how I sing it in person is not easy when you’re in a room by yourself and I’ve noticed that I sing that song very differently depending on the audience and when the audience is engaged in my story telling like I can feel it throughout the night, I tend to sing it with more backing so when I start to sing that song, I don’t know if I’m conjuring up emotions but that song makes me sing emotionally because I know the words, they’re very measured and that song is based on a true story so it’s very easy for me to fall into it. I recorded it originally and then showed it to someone and they were like, “Alexa the pacing is kind of fast, can you redo it?” and I was like, shoot, you know, I really like the way that this sounds, I did some cool stuff with my voice but she was right. I didn’t draw the same emotional pull that I do when I’m in person and I don’t know why, I think I was just too excited to record it so last night, I re-recorded it and you can hear me like almost crying in it. Yeah, that song always makes me want to cry when I sing it. It takes a lot of out of me. When I’m done singing it, I feel like I can take a nap or go crawl in a corner and just keep crying or something. VA: What is your favorite song to perform and why?
AL: There’s a mix. She’s Gonna Be Fine is one of my favorites to perform now, just because it tends to silence a room and there’s something special to be said about that for me because I’ve never been able to command a space as much as that song’s given me the power to do so. Beyond that song, I really like singing Sunrise, it’s also new, it’s one of the new ones because when I sing that, there’s a part that’s like with you, with you, with you, like I yell it and now everyone yells it with me but my favorite that’s kind of always been my favorite to sing with everybody has probably been MIA. I wrote that on the ukulele, and everybody’s just has always been really down to sing along and I love when the audience comes into the picture and sings it with me. There’s something special about even strangers who don’t know the song start to sing it, it just is a nice community exercise. VA: You play the ukulele and more recently learned to play guitar; are there any more instruments you have thought about playing in the future? (In my view, a keyboard is set up next to her)
AL: I was telling somebody the story on a podcast that I did recently about my dad supporting my music. There’s more backstory to that but basically lately, my family, my friends have kind of all been into this dream of mine and I was thinking about getting a keyboard for a while. When quarantine started, I just, I wanted to learn everything and then I saw a friend of mine play the keyboard and I was like, oh my god I want one so badly and I was like, oh well you know if I have a keyboard and the band wants to come over then my keyboardist doesn’t have to drag his, then I’ll have it so I just have all these random instruments that everybody can, so now I’ve got to get drums or something. Quarantine stopped from a lot of things being delivered and I ordered this keyboard about three months ago. My dad got it for me as like a, I want to support your dream kind of gift and I was like, are you sure? Like, I was going to get it anyway but like, are you sure? I was going to go broke dad. And I fell in love with this one and I ordered it and I was like, this thing is never coming in, ever. On that podcast I just did, I mentioned the keyboard and like two days later, after that podcast aired, I get the call from Sweetwater that it was in and it was being shipped. It got here on Halloween, but I couldn’t open the box yet and on November 1st I opened it for the first time, and I haven’t moved from this spot. VA: During quarantine, you have made new musician friends and have brought them to share your stage; how does it feel to be a talent scout of sorts and do you think it is something you would like to continue to do?
AL: I’ve been very lucky and it’s funny because your question lead into my day. Tonight, is my 90’s night, which is why I’m rocking the Jurassic Park shirt (I love it) for my zoom open mic that I’ve been doing since April. I’ve done a lot of stuff during quarantine, I did a song writer exchange, I did an Instagram takeover for Make Music Miami, I did some weird Jewish events, I got called the funky Zionista and I was like a little bit like, alright, chill that’s a little too much for me. Any chance I got to make music, I tried to do during quarantine; I dressed as Elsa for god’s sakes. All of these things that I did then lead to people coming to my open mic night from all of these different resources so during the song exchange, that person, her name is Rew, came on to my open mic like I went on to hers and she came to mine and then she brought her friends who are now are regulars of my night. Rock-n-roll Johnny always likes to be called out but all these people you know, come on and they were supporting me while I was trying to do my song writing lessons like trying to teach people how to write lyrics and to write music or to write songs. I tried different stuff and these people supported me and when I got a chance to go on a stage I could have played by myself for three hours but I was like, you know why not share the love with some of the people who have made quarantine more manageable so people like Clover, April I already knew before quarantine who just went on stage with me, my friend Cynthia same thing before quarantine, Luis was a friend of mine and then he brought the flute player in. This whole network of people that have just been supporting each other during quarantine are the ones I put up on stage, like you didn’t have to show up to my open mic night, it was helpful if I didn’t know you already or wasn’t too familiar with your music because Bar Nancy is a scared place for me like, I worked there pre quarantine that’s my family, that’s my home so who I bring into it is important to me like if you’re a jerk or an asshole, I’m not going to put you on stage with me and everybody’s attitude changes from day to day so you could have been nice prior to quarantine and then become not the nicest person. I’ve just gotten lucky, I’ve met all these talented people and I’ve gotten a chance to put them on a stage and I’ve tried to get them paid as much as I can, it’s not easy but I’m trying to create the opportunity for them. Honestly, it gets exhausting so as much as I want to say I’m going to keep scouting talent, I just keep hoping that I get lucky that people show up either to the open mic that I’ve never met before that live in Miami or that somebody introduces me to someone just because of the networking opportunities here because talent can be easy to find in Miami but talent with a heart and a solid, kind personality that’s not the easiest to find like people who aren’t out just for themselves I guess is what I’m saying. I feel very lucky for the people I’ve met Honestly, if Johnny didn’t live in New York, I’d put him on a stage in a heartbeat, if Rew didn’t live in New York, same thing. If my new California friends didn’t live in Cali - stage. I wish I could put more people on the stage that I’ve gotten to meet through quarantine. VA: If you had your choice of an artist to collaborate with, who would it be? 
AL: Like Famous? Are we talking dead or alive? For a living artist, the first person who came to mind is Lady Gaga. I don’t know why that was the first name that came to my head, but I think it’s just because I admire her musical style like a lot. The way she sings, that would be amazing. I want to see how she writes. So probably her, I can’t even like think of anyone right now if you’d had asked me a while ago, I would have been like Meatloaf or Queen. Apparently, Lady Gaga because that’s where my mind just went. Alexa is finalizing her four song EP and her release party is scheduled on January 1st at none other than Bar Nancy. AL: The four songs are Sunrise, She’s Gonna be Fine, Sage & Wine and Who Knows Me. I was trying to tell a story and it was written in the same time period so I guess the idea is that the person you’re enjoying the time with somebody, know that they’re going to leave, they leave, she’s going to be fine, she cleanses her space and then she’s like, who even knows me anyway so it’s like the story.

Please come out to support Alexa and other talented local artists Friday nights at Bar Nancy on Calle Ocho. Bar Nancy is a great spot for drinks, food and live music. If you are hungry, The Cheese Stands Alone serves amazing grilled cheese sandwiches and if you’re vegan, don’t worry, Amanda has you covered.

[carinayidanzhang]

Graphic Design Portfolio

01. Begin with the “C”

Media: Digital Design

Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm

Description: I took the initial of my name, “C”, as inspiration for designing the poster. As a student with a fanatical interest in graphic design, I hope that the letter “C” in my name，can represent infinite creativity. Just as my name begins with the “C”, I think the study of design should also begin with another “C”, which is creativity.

02. Product Similarity

Media: Scriptliner on sketch paper

Dimensions: 380mm x 580mm

Description: Each of us is a product produced by society. We may have different backgrounds, personalities and ideas originally, but, in the competition within society, we tend to be closer to each other's image, so as to form excellent competitiveness in a certain aspect. Society will continue to fill the gaps between people, so that the living environment will reach saturation. Under the influence of many factors, all the “products” become more and more homogeneous, and the pressure of survival also increases continuously.

03. Fist, Female, Fear

Media: Digital Painting

Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm

Description: The difficult position of women has always been a great concern to me. This work presents some of the issues that make me anxious and fearful as a female, such as domestic violence, being followed after 10pm, drinking drugged alcohol in a bar and so on. In addition, it also includes some social inequality restrictions on women. Such as thinking that it is shameful to wear short skirts, it is not allowed for women to smoke or drink, etc. The two fists in the painting are both society's fists against female and the fists that I want to break all this uneasiness and inequality.

04. Mask

Media: Digital painting

Dimensions: 400mm x 400mm

Description: During COVID-19, all of us wore masks, which could both protect us and facilitate a concealment of emotions. We can't see people's expressions under masks, and in many cases, happiness and sadness can't be conveyed only through the eyes. Maybe it prevents us from communicating with each other, or maybe it gives us a sense of security when we don't want to reveal our thoughts to the outside world.

05. “Humanlike”

Media: Photography

Dimensions: 300mm x 600mm

Description: When I was a little girl, I was very disgusted and afraid of the models in the window. When I grew up, I realized that this was because of the “Uncanny Valley”. So now I've chosen to face this fear and take pictures of human limbs next to a dummy. I hope to explore the similarities and differences between them, so as to more intuitively feel the temperature and texture of the human body.

06. Summer Memories

Media: PhotographyDimensions: 102mm x 152mm

Description: I love the summer in Beijing's Hutongs, the small theatre buildings full of creepers, the abandoned furniture and bicycles piled up on both sides of the road, and the boundless green. This work records my scattered memories of summer, and to me, I can nearly hear the sound of cicadas and the breeze blowing through the leaves when I see it.

07. “Be Fake or be True”

Media: 3D Installation/ Mixed Media

Dimensions: 500mm x 500mm x 500mm

Description: Our childhood fantasies about the world are like the perfect stories locked up in the TV. They are the combination of all good things, and the collection of all innocence. But as we get older, we see a more real side of the world. This is like breaking the TV screen, once the dream and cold reality collide, we can choose to believe in good, but also can choose to face the reality.

08. “Way Too Much”

Media: Scriptliner on sketch paper

Dimensions: 420mm x 594 mm

Description: This is a sketch of the dining table in my home. I have a slight hoarding habit, so the table is always filled with bottles and jars for a sense of inner satisfaction. But my mother always said that my things were “way too much” and too messy. Under her gaze I had to look at the table again in a more introspective manner.

09. The Prosperous Tang Dynasty

Media: Collage/ Mixed Media

Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm

Description: This work embodies my yearning and respect for the costume, culture, aesthetics and so on of the ancient Tang Dynasty in China. I wanted to use it to express the prosperous, open, majestic atmosphere of the Tang Dynasty, and also add my calligraphy work to it. The bright red color is the most important symbol of the Tang Dynasty, and the culture as gorgeous as peony is a beautiful dream buried in every Chinese heart.

10. CD Cover Design

Media: Digital Design

Dimensions: 150mm x 150mm

Description: One of my rapper friends and I wrote a hip-hop song about life during quarantine, and I designed the album cover myself. The empty sofa expresses my loneliness and boredom. Fluorescent green and purple stand out against the grey background, representing that music and art are the only bright colors in my dull life.

11. City Starlight

Media: 3D Installation/ Mixed Media

Dimensions: 1500mm x 400mm x 200mm

Description: I once participated in the window design project of Hamleys, a famous British toy company, and I worked with several designers to make drawings and build models with the theme of city starlight. All the buildings and facilities were designed and cut by ourselves. We hope to remind everyone of the forgotten beauty of the city when they pass this window. Although the plan was not implemented in the end, it was an unforgettable experience for me.

12. Fish Fish Fish

Media: Digital Design

Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm

Description: This is a small project about creative design. I randomly selected three keywords, which are brain, goldfish and hand, so I completed the poster creation with these three elements. The human brain is very complex, carrying a lot of emotional, knowledge burden, but fish only have seven seconds of memory, their worlds are very simple. I hope we can all live like fish, be happy and be simple, and not need to worry about all the mess.

13. Christmas Card

Media: Digital Design

Dimensions: 148mm x 210mm

Description: This is a Christmas card I designed for my friends. Christmas in my heart is different from others. It is purple and pink. And all of these objects, the Christmas tree, the gift box, are just abstract symbols, their specific shape, colour, size is not really important. I use this kind of vague image to express my wishes to my friends. May they not only have a merry Christmas, but also a pink and purple surprise every day.

14. SOS

Media: Photography/ Digital Design

Dimensions: 420mm x 594mm

Description: Born as a woman, sometimes we are bound by a piece of tape to seal the mouth of expression and seeking for help, so we must save ourselves, in the tide of the times to speak and to fight for freedom.

15. Consumerism

Media: Collage/ Mixed Media

Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm

Description: In this era of rampant consumerism, people are gradually constrained by material desire and money, and constantly pursue a more grandiose and luxurious consumption life. However, we are increasingly overwhelmed by endless commodities, so we have to keep struggling with it, trying to stay awake while continuing to consume uncontrollably.

16. Sketchbook scanned copy

Media: Charcoal and crayon on sketch paper

Description: I used charcoal to copy two paintings, Three Wicked Men by Denzil Forrester and Self Portrait In A Straw Hat by Vigee Lebrun.

17. Happy Birthday

Media: Stop-motion Animation

Description: In the summer of 2019, a friend and I took a course in stop-motion animation at RISD's summer school and made this short film. It was inspired by my grandparents. On my grandmother's birthday, my grandfather always gets up early to cook and make cakes for her. Although this seems to be a very simple thing, it has always been the most touching and warm picture in my memory. I hope I can take this short film as a souvenir.

18. Development Work - Collage Brainstorm

[justsimplypretty]

ILYSB - (n.m.)

Storyline: Story about the reader and Nick celebrating their anniversary in the most adorable way. 

Author’s Note: Just a little soft!nick for you guys! I got in my feels while writing this one thats for sure. I just feel like Nick’s the type to go all out and be really mushy for a girl he’s all about! Brb while I go find someone to do this for me!

Enhance the Experience: This section is for visuals and content that went through my mind when writing this story. 

I got inspired from this cute Pinterest picture I’ll insert here. Also, the song ILYSB (Stripped) - LANY kept going through my head while writing this one.

Warning: None

Word count: 1.3K

The sun lit up the room slightly from your not fully shut black out curtains. Not bright enough to startle you but just bright enough to peacefully wake you up. You rolled over pretty groggy with little recollection of the night before. You tried to process what time it was and why your boyfriend Nick wasn’t laying next to you like usual. You slowly started to remember bits and pieces of the night before.

Nick had rolled into your shared apartment around one in morning completely exhausted from being at the studio. See tonight, he had anticipated being home a little before midnight to surprise you and celebrate. But of course this night, one of the most important nights, everything took longer than expected. The vocals weren’t lining up correctly, tracks kept having to be reclipped, and every single thing the boys recorded took take after take after take to get perfected. All of this causing Nick to walk into the bedroom super late and find you already fast asleep in bed.

He let out a light sigh from disappointment in not being able to execute his plan before you fell asleep. But even with the let down, he still took a moment to admire how beautiful you looked. Fast asleep in your favorite t-shirt of his while holding on tightly to the pillow from his side of the bed. It was the cutest thing he’d ever witnessed.

You squinted your eyes a little as you picked up your phone to see what time it was. But 8:45am wasn’t the only thing you had noticed on your lock screen. Seeing the date right underneath caused your heart to warm and the biggest smile to string across your face. It was you and Nick’s two-year anniversary. You couldn’t believe it had already been two years with the love of your life. And though you hadn’t forgotten about your anniversary, you had spent so much time and effort looking for the perfect gift for Nick you didn’t even register how close it really was.

You eagerly jumped out of the bed, slid into your cozy slippers, while fixing your messy bun in the large circle mirror that hung on the bedroom wall. You quickly walked over to the closet digging deep into one of your handbags where you had hidden his anniversary gift. You laughed in your head because you always knew this was the perfect hiding spot. Nick always joked that your purses were all too expensive for him to ever touch so he steered clear of ever messing with them. Making it the perfect secret spot for the past two weeks.

The small black box was tied with a silky red bow with a white tag that read...

“My Nick,

Thank you for the best two years of my life. I love you always.

Forever yours, (Y/N)”

You hurried with the gift in hand out of the closet, running down the hall hoping to find your boyfriend lounging in the living room. You could hear faint music planning from living room, causing your fast walk to turn into a light jog as you raced to meet him. You had made it in record timing as you screamed upon entering the room “Happy Anni-” you stopped mid sentence. You were now in complete stand still as you stood in Aw of the sight in front of you.

Nick at set up the room to be romantic dream. Tiny lit candles made a path on the floor that lead to him at the end while others were created into the shape of a hearts on either side. The ceiling was filled with at least a hundred red and white balloons while roses and rose petals covered every other surface in sight from the coffee table, to the couch, to every small inch on the floor. It was something straight out of a movie and for a split second, you had to remind yourself that you weren’t still dreaming.

“Anniversary” Nick said finishing your cut off sentence from earlier as he began walking towards you.

“Well... what do you think?” He said eager to hear your thoughts.

You were processing so many emotions at once you couldn’t even keep up. So overwhelmed in feelings and not even expecting to, you started uncontrollably sobbing right in front of him.

Nick immediately started to second guess everything, becoming insecure about the entire set up. He had never seen you cry this much unless you were overly upset by something. He immediately ran up to you bring you both face to face.

“Oh my gosh you hate it don’t you? Ugh I knew I should have done this last night like I had originally planned” Nick said annoyed while recalling his tarnished plans from last night.

“Nick I-” you said trying to stop him in the middle of your sobs.

“Or maybe I shouldn’t have done this at all because it’s too much. What was I thinking getting the guys input on how to set it up? It’s too extra isn’t it?” He continued in more frustration.

“No Nick it’s-I” you tried yet again to stop his rambling still in tears.

“I just wanted to do something out of the ordinary for you because that’s what you deserve. Extraordinary. Every single day. For this anniversary and the many anniversaries to come” Nick went on while you stood there still in shock, no longer making an effort to stop him and letting his rant continue.

“You just mean the world to me (Y/N) and I would do anything to show you just how much being with you these past two years has really meant to me. I see, my family sees, even the guys see just how much better my world has been since the day you came into it. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin today so please tell me how I can make it up to you my love?” Nick finished finally allowing you to speak as he held your wet face in his hands.

“Nick... this... you... everything is just... perfect” you tried to explain still feeling a wash of emotions.

“Wait really? You like it” Nick replied as sudden relief filled his face and he began to smile at you.

“No baby, I love it. Just as much as I love you” you continued leaning in for a kiss.

He lightly whipped your tears that hadn’t yet dried with his sleeve while bringing you into a tight embrace. But he began to pull away slowing as he caught a glimpse of the tiny box in your hand.

“What’s this?” He questioned.

“A gift that doesn’t even compare to what you’ve done for me” you said now being insecure about your own gift.

“Come on I’m sure it’s great” he continued as he unraveled the bow and opened the box.

Inside lied a custom gold linked chain with a tiny padlock hooked onto the end that had your name written on the back in the most angelic cursive writing. Along with it came four other dainty gold chains that were all in a similar style to the ones you’d seen him wear many times over the years.

“You know... just so I’m with you... even when I’m not” you said trying to justify your thought process when getting this gift. “You weren’t the only one who had a little input from the guys” you said jokingly.

Nick wrapped his arms around you tighter than usual as he whispered in your ear. “This is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever gotten me. How did I get so lucky?” He said in complete shock still while looking down at the gift.

“I ask myself that same question about you every single day. Happy anniversary Nick” you replied.

“Happy anniversary beautiful” Nick said finishing off your gift exchange with the most loving kiss.

[bubmyg]

wonder - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader 

genre/warnings: pool boy/waiter/kind-of-baker/first-aid-extraordinaire/aspiring singer!jeongguk(ft. cherry!guk), writer/journalist!reader, the CHEESIEST fluff, tiny amounts of angst, a bad attempt at original poetry, there is a tiny blood mention

word count: 14,906

summary: romance novels lie about finding some deep epiphany in the ocean because you find your inspiration in some chlorine tainted red locks or where jeongguk isn’t smooth with a pool net. 

a/n: this is. the longest fic i’ve ever written. also the longest i’ve ever worked on a fic (...a month ajfdks) and im really proud of it :-( i hope u like it :-( 

There’s a certain breaking point for an advice columnist, one that isn’t supposed to come three years into the job and over a handwritten letter from a nine year old who has just had her dream of becoming a vet shattered by this sudden discovery that she, in fact, passes out when she sees any type of blood. Or if that breaking point comes, the draft of the response isn’t supposed to make it past an unsaved document, (Dreams are a scam, anyway. Learn that.) scrapped and used as emotional support to formulate the real answer.

There’s a nine year old little girl who rushes to the paper for a week after sending her letter, hoping to find some sort of solace in the advice column she finds fascinating, generally filled with advice on things she doesn’t have the capacity to understand: cheating husbands, the capitalist nature of the makeup industry, why “business casual” isn’t a reward for women, and taxes. She’s memorized her opening line enough to have her heart racing into her throat when she catches sight of it on its usual page, her letter transcribed and italicized just above the tiny portrait of the columnist and the bold font that would be her response.

Her mother finds her sobbing on her bed fifteen minutes after she called for her to come to dinner and consoles her enough to acknowledge that being a Disney princess is just as good of an aspiration as a vet, not before writing a strongly worded letter addressed to the editor of the paper and canceling the family’s subscription.

There’s a different document you should have scrapped completely, the sixty-seventh page of your never ending novel, never ending in the sense that it would never end because you were going to give up on everything with the exception of the column for the next day: an obscure sex toy shop escapade that isn’t fit for the nine year old and her canceled subscription in the first place.

You’d been glaring at the grainy lines across your monitor, ones that cut through the middle of the words on the sixty-sixth page, when Hoseok’s figure glided past the glass wall of your office to enter without knocking.

He cleared his throat and you turned slowly from the monitor, as if your gradual spiral cascading to a head had brought an end to your cordiality as well. There was a paper in his hand, the day prior’s edition, ink thick on the outside where a picture of a local elementary school’s service project was displayed. He opened it silently, turning to a page, your page, outlined heavily in red ink pen.

The gold links of Hoseok’s watch reflected off your monitor as the paper smacked and slid its way across your desk, forcing you to wince for two separate reasons.

“I’m sorry—”

Hoseok withdrew his latter hand from the pocket of his black slack and your fingers itched to close out of your novel but his gaze was steady on the blinking cursor next to a piece of grammar you’d fiddled with six separate times.

“Any progress?” You blinked at him and he jerked his head in the direction of your desktop, black fringe parting against his eyelashes so his dark eyes dropped a deeper shade of black.

There was a raw spot ready for you on the inside of your cheek and the taste of stale metallic flooded your tongue. Your legs unfurled from where they’d been folded up underneath you in your desk chair, gaze sweeping to the wilting ficus underneath your desk, “Not exactly…”

Papers fluttered together and you caught sight of the dogeared letter from the little girl as Hoseok brushed a bare spot on the corner of your desk to take a seat. There was a smiling cartoon character patterned to the surface of his short-sleeved button up and it’s smiling muzzle appeared to mirror that flit of an upturn on the edge of Hoseok’s dimpled lips. The subtle cock of his chin was anything but of praise, sympathy more so bleeding out the strict in his dark irises as he sighed.

“I understand this job and this column are not your first love,” He mirrored the snarky response that swallowed on the back of your tongue, “Hell, this probably isn’t even your third or fourth love.”

“But I do expect you to uphold a certain level of professionalism in your column. I’ve never had an issue with you in the past. In fact, I nearly stopped looking over your submissions before sending things to print,” Hoseok leaned forward, elbow on his thigh, chin on curled, ring clad knuckles, “However, as of recent…”

“It won’t happen again, Hoseok. I swear, I was just—”

You quieted when his fingers curled outward from underneath his chin. “...this was not the first column as of recent that hasn’t exactly been up to par.”

Quieter, barely a breath, you nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Hoseok’s index finger straightened, leaning from his lips to press into the side of your monitor, tapping his nail against the screen, “I know how much this means to you. I know how little progress comes when inspiration comes. I know that inspiration doesn’t just strike when we ask it to. I get it, I really do.”

“...and I think some time away from here, from this place, from your column, would do you wonders.”

There was something defensive in your next inquiry, “What are you saying?”

“I’m giving you the summer off—” His finger wagged in your direction when you choked, “—no I’m making you take the summer off.”

“The whole—”

“Two months. Away from here, as in, I’m sending you to the coast for two months. Beach house, all to yourself, all-expense paid. Except for your food, I know you like—”

You squinted at him, “What?”

“Namjoon,” Hoseok provided and you tensed at the name of his friend, a high-powered executive at a publishing company you’d failed three times over to score an internship at, “He really understands the plight you’re going through. It’s his house.”

“There has to be a catch.”

“Yes, I’m giving Jimin your column while you’re gone.”

You grit your teeth at the mention of Hoseok’s blonde headed assistant and Hoseok chuckled at the reaction he desired, “I’m kidding. I mean, I am giving him your paper space. But, Namjoon said, providing that you make some sort of sizable progress on your manuscript, he’ll review it.”

“What?”

“You’re my friend. He’s my friend,” He plucked your turtle shaped paper weight into his palm, tracing it with the same index finger, “I want the best for you and I want my employee’s to be working at their utmost capacity. Namjoon can never have too many clients—” He made eye contact with you when he set the turtle down, “—and he probably owes me some sort of favor.”

Your gaze wandered out the window, eyeing a taxi as it sped away from the curb and forced its way into the flow of traffic. “All because I told a nine year old that Disney princesses’ aren’t real, huh?”

“No,” Hoseok’s hand covered one of yours, patting gently, “Because you’re better than this version of you. And I miss her, frankly. Old you used to bring me coffee in the mornings, so—”

“That’s when I was in Park Jimin’s position.”

“Jealous?”

“No,” Your jaw clenched but the smile on your lips was tiny and genuine regardless, “Thank you, Hobi.”

He hummed, pushing himself up off your desk to trail around toward the door, “Put your novel away, you have two months at the beach to work on that. Submit tomorrow’s column and then get your ass out of here. You have a flight to pack for.”

You weren’t sure if it were the wet tropical air that clung to your hair follicles or the grains of sand already wedged underneath the platform of your sandal but stepping off the plane gave you at least the vague sense that your inspiration was back. You itched for the keys on your laptop, letters worn and granules of salt from potato chips lodged in between, the space bar with two glossed circles from the unconscious tap of the side of your thumbs.

But the device was lodged in your backpack which was lodged between your shoulder blades as you tried to balance the lopsided baggage while maneuvering the cheap wheels of your suitcase over cobblestone sidewalks.

The keypad granted you entry when you’d barely pressed down on the last number of the combination you were given and your suitcase thanked you when sand rippled stepping stones became smooth, white tile. You nudged the luggage aside, dropping your backpack from your shoulders in the process of the long exhale you released from tense muscles, sand splaying messily over sleek flooring as you peeled your sandals from your ankles.

The house was open concept, white tile outlined in golden, sand like consistency, flooring that disappeared from the entryway to the wide room in the middle and down a short hallway that pointed into a wide, sliding glass door. Stainless steel appliances encased by black cabinets and white marble countertops, blue accent pieces and a fruit bowl filled with plastic treats completed the kitchen while compact leather furniture in the same hues boxed in a towering entertainment center on the opposite end of the room.

Your bare feet welcomed the shag grey rug that resided under the living room furniture, carrying you toward the various DVDs peeking out of the glass case underneath the TV. Nature documents sandwiched a singular copy of The Notebook, the cover worn and tattered underneath plastic from being parted so many times.

He’ll like her then and your fingertips twitched at your thighs in search of your laptop keys.

You turned a collection of faux grapes in your palms, pressing into the waxy material, eyes squinted for the typed letter lodged underneath the wire basket.

Welcome! I trust that you’ll find your accommodations satisfactory for a few months, yes? I’m eagerly awaiting your progress, Hoseok speaks very highly of you and your skills. Happy writing!

Underneath was a bulleted list of contact numbers and a FAQOTH (Frequently Asked Questions of the House), trash days, the number of the nearest pizza delivery, the code to the shed outside that contained noodles and an inflatable flamingo for the pool. It was skimming that provided you with that information and your brain short circuited on the mention of a pool, abandoning memorization in favor of your bare feet scuffing across the warmed concrete of the pool deck.

If the pesky sand rubbing raw at the arches of your feet or the palm trees you’d spotted out the windows of the plane weren’t enough to immerse you in the mindset, the clear blue of chlorine tainted water twitched at your knuckles just a fraction more, especially as engulfed by a privacy fence and vining vegetation cut neatly through the rungs of thick white.

Your stomach argued for lunch from one of the pizza places Namjoon had suggested and your heaping luggage argued for organizing the white wicker drawers in your bedroom but your gut said your laptop and your swimsuit. You were pressed onto a candy-striped towel in a lounge chair with the sun trickling at the sweat on your hairline before any other option could out weight, your clothes half strewn in the entryway of the house where you’d dug for the spandex material but forgotten as you furiously hacked away at editing your outline.

You bolded the newest addition to your outline inside your outline, the one that held all the tropes you wished to tackle in the sensical nonsensical manner that was a novel centered around the beauty of clichés. If other authors avoided clichés at all cost, the adverse relationship of shoving any and all that you could correlate between the confines of two plastic ends and a spine could produce a similar effect, pique the interest if marketed as the cliché of all clichés, work against and for itself between worlds of bubblegum high school romance and stale mint flavored coworkers, strangers, and enemies to lovers.

 Besides, eliminating stereotypes within clichés counted for something in itself. A commentary on something much larger, at least, you liked to think it was.

SEND THEM TO A BEACH HOUSE appeared directly beneath THE SPAGHETTI SCENE FROM LADY AND THE TRAMP BUT WITH EXCESS CHEESE FROM A PIECE OF PIZZA and the giddiness from typing it out had you overloading the software with how quickly you switched documents to your outline outline, swiping your index finger until the setting appeared and you deleted it in one long, blue highlight.

You thought back to the young adult romance you’d read in high school that had taken place in a beachside town, then to the very same romantic thriller you adored as an adult, to the whimsical short story you’d written in an undergraduate, elective creative writing class, to the first time you’d dug your toes into slightly damp sand and let the soothe of the waves lap at your ankles and the fall of your eyelids to be as dark as the never ending water disappearing over the horizon.

Nothing is more cliché than a beachside town, you thought and spoke the words all the same, shoulders hunching over your keyboard as you clacked the same sentence across the screen and quickly deleted it to amend more specifically. It was the most you’d typed, switched tabs for research, and had the curled feeling of anticipation for what would flow from your fingers in the last year and you briefly wondered if Namjoon had pumped something into the seashell shaped air fresheners stuck in every outlet in the house.

Your trusty search engine provided little response for “beachside towns with little to no tourism” and you instead found yourself typing in the name of the city you’d directed your cab to from the airport, a homage to the sudden rush of inspiration. More details flowed than necessary but you allowed them in the haze of humidity and sun, the name and country and zip code following out next to the bolded location bullet point until your cursor dropped down to the third line and you cut yourself on the words Sunny Drive, where the speed limit signs end in threes?

You cracked your knuckles first, then your toes, then rolled your ankle to pop it, too, crooked fingers still sat on the middle row of the keyboard, asdf-jkl;, tapping in tune with the hum that slipped through your sealed lips.

The high top of a golf cart cruised over the links of the white fence encasing you in your writing utopia, the whir dying as the vehicle rounded the corner. Your fingers were back in action, deleting the modest, white four door sedan assigned to your main character in favor of a high-powered golf cart that you’d research later if realistically existed.

Somewhere in the distance was the call of a bird, traveling over the thrash of the waves onto the shore just in reach beyond the tops of houses suspended on frames around the boardwalk. It was the call of a sea gull or something of the same variety, but you considered giving your main character a parrot and added an entire new section of your outline for the very plot piece.

Something bubbled in the depth of the pool stretched at the end of your pointed ankles, something that had curled into the filter and elicited a burst of air. In your head, you extended the pool by significance on either side and gave your protagonist the trait of an accomplished swimmer in high school.

Nothing more cliché that dropping some characters into a seaside town, one with a parrot, a tricked-out golf cart, and an affinity for swimming rather than surfing like her love interest, antagonistic counterpart and his four door sedan with a dent in the side and caked sand on the rims.

Three documents over was your actual manuscript, one you marked with various highlights to change major plot points later. A major rehaul of location but worth it for the electricity snagging and pushing your joints to click across the keys. Your brain left a footnote to revamp the scene you’d left your characters at, previously at a crossroads of figuring out the vibe in their acquaintance, stuck in a grocery store with the love interest clutching a bouquet of flowers and squinting at your protagonist.

It was quickly changed to a late night scene at a beach, the bouquet of flowers instead a ghost crab and the line of dialog a do you want to hold him? rather than the, awkward albeit, I could buy these for you? To give to your mom, of course—

And then the artificial blue of the water behind you seemed to engulf your laptop screen, draining it into a lower quality of pixels and blurred lines that categorized your work computer, the giant stone turtle hidden behind a bush of thick vegetation shrinking into your paper weight, the line of documents open across your screen erasing into your next column that, for some reason, included every curse word you could imagine in angry red font.

A tiny emoticon reminiscent of the talking paperclip from early Microsoft word processing appeared in the corner, but in the shape of Park Jimin.

In short, you were stuck, the fire of inspiration eager to boil in the pit of your stomach evaporating like the footprint on the pool peck after you’d dipped a singular foot in. You’d transported back to your office in the uncomfortable desk chair stolen from the insurance office a story down with Park Jimin breathing down your neck for your position by bringing Hoseok coffee every morning but in a slightly better quality than you had, because it was handmade with love in the longue, with a novel that was no closer to being finished than it had been when you’d fell in love with the concept and got paid to outline the entire thing not a week into your position at the newspaper (and in between running Hoseok coffee and trying to hide your work in the limited privacy of your cubicle).

A massive control + Z was in order and the fingers on one hand stretched to do just that on the first of three documents, latter cuticles shoved in between your teeth to nibble miserably on. You’d erased any mention of a beachside town and ripped away the sticky note on the inside of your conscious that suggested touching a ghost crab for romance when something rough and cold dripped against the outside of your thigh.

Confusion caused you to place your laptop to the concrete below your chair and terror caused the startled gasp to bubble out of your throat at the sheepish looking figure stood knee deep on the pool stairs.

“Uh, hello,” The figure had obnoxious red hair to match the obnoxious yellow shirt hanging off his shoulders, a similar hue that colored the apples of his cheeks, shading embarrassment over sunburn and traveling to the peek of his teeth and the twinkle in gentle brown eyes that much resembled that of a deer pinned by some oncoming headlights. “I’m...here to clean the pool.”

It was a pool net that had hit you, misjudged from the sopping pile in the mulch of leaves and bugs and neon colored specks of unidentified objects. Your eyes trailed upward from the damp pleats of rope at your side to the holder of the pole, one who hadn’t tried to jerk the net away from you but instead kept in place, as if he didn’t move a muscle maybe you’d disappear.

“I clean the pool twice a week?” He tried again but you were too focused on the rosy shade of his lips matching the moussed fringe that curled into his eyelashes. “It should have been on the note Namjoon left—”

“It probably is,” You dismissed and he finally pulled the net away from your side, the wide sweeping circle he took to plop it back into the pool not succeeding without dripping some onto the top of your head. Unconsciously eager to amend the endearing pout that graced the stranger’s lips as he stirred the net into the center of the water, you added, “I just got in this morning. I haven’t had time to read everything yet.”

“Oh. Oh,” The man straightened from where he’d been crouched trying to snag a red thread at the far end of the pool, the ends of blue pool shorts darker than the rest and trickling against toned thighs, “Well, I’m Jeongguk. The neighborhood pool guy. And groundskeeper. And...whatever else you need me to be, I guess.”

You quirked an eyebrow and Jeongguk faltered, “I mean, like, I can fix shit. If you need me to. Like, if the cable goes out. But don’t ask me about the Wifi. No clue how to improve that.”

“Do any of us?”

He laughed and there was a peek of a dimple at the corner of his lips, turning away from you, “Fair point.”

You watched as he navigated the net with a finesse that suggested he didn’t just smack your thigh with it, depositing the red string in a sad heap near the filter. The calculated wander of your gaze drew your mouth to dry, following the jump of his calf muscles as he stepped from the pool, dragging the net with him over his shoulder.

“Seriously though,” Jeongguk’s voice snapped you out of your trance and you wet your lips and longed for your chapstick lodged somewhere in the depths of your backpack. He stood by a plastic looking brown shed, the net out of his hands, arms instead folded to his chest. “If you need anything, just call the front desk. The number is pasted on the fridge.”

“Noted, thanks.”

“My pleasure—” He paused halfway through the sliding glass door, fingers poised in an awkward pointing motion, “—what was your name again?”

You uttered it and Jeongguk winked, fingers shaking as his latter foot joined him inside. “Well, then I’ll see you later.”

“Perfect,” You breathed to yourself and you realized after the roar of his blue maintenance truck pulling from your drive that your collection of tattered bras and panties were scattered in the only entrance to the house.

Romance novels lied and movies an even bigger scam about wearing sandals for long periods of time without developing stupidly coarse blisters on the surface of the faux leather straps. You were heaving and limping and confused by the time you found the main office at the far end of the neighborhood.

In retrospect, it was hard to miss, an obnoxious aqua shade of paneling, outlined in a thick white trim led to by an equally bright staircase. Bikes accented in the same white but a clearer shade of blue lined the racks outside, complete with wicker baskets on the front and shiny metal bells that glinted just right to make you shield your eyes and trip up a single stair in your ascend. Inside the barn like doors came a refreshing burst of air conditioning, eliminating the humidity from outside and immediately calming some of the sweat curling into the hair at the nape of your neck.

A man sat behind a glass top counter in the middle of the room, legs delicately crossed on the stool he perched to, sunglasses nudged in the darkest part of dyed blonde roots, thumbing through a tourist style magazine that advertised May, the current month, as it’s date of publication. When the doors rattled shut behind you, he looked up, sunglasses bouncing to the bridge of his nose as he let out a tiny, startled noise.

“Hello!” He greeted after a moment, broad shoulders setting as you approached the counter. The magazine was flipped shut and slid closer to you, eyebrows wiggling at you beyond the frames of his fallen glasses, “Can I interested you in an entire article on the shrimp business in town?”

You giggled then, gently nudging the magazine back to him. The gold on his nametag fastened to the pocket of a blue surf shop t-shirt read Seokjin.

��No, not today.”

Seokjin balled the gloss into a roll and with a shrug, pitched it over his shoulder. “You know what, me either,” He winked, folding his hands on the counter and leaning toward you, plump lips curled back to let out an endearing wheeze of a laugh, “What can I do for you today?”

“Do you rent the bikes outside?”

“I’ll rent you two of them,” He laughed again at the expression on your face, turning to fish a clipboard off the tiny table behind him. “Kidding. I’ll rent you three.”

“I love it, but I think I only need one for right now.”

“If I weren’t on shift, I’d accompany you,” Seokjin scribbled something on the clipboard, “What house number are you in?”

You recited the number to him and he nodded with his tongue between his back molars. The clipboard was returned to the table in exchange for a set of tiny keys, ones he held out to you by the dangle of their miniature, metal hook. “These work on the first bike on the rack,” He smiled again, all full lips and an endearing red tinge to the tips of his ears, “Bring them back to me to check the bike back in or I may have to hunt you down.”

Your eyes widened and he cackled again, slapping a palm down on the glass countertop, “Kidding. But there is a fine if it’s not returned in twenty-four hours so—”

“Noted. I’ll have it back,” You pressed the keys into your palm and offered a halfhearted wave, “Thank you!”

“Always! Happy riding!”

The keys were deposited safely into the pocket of your shorts after you’d managed to wiggle the bicycle away from the rack, clacking against your phone screen as you clambered aboard the leather seat and pushed off in the direction you’d came.

You pedaled first in search of the house, finding it easier on the retrace and mapping it to memory as you dared a new trail, the one that looped and met a dead end when asphalt curled into white sand. The house whirred by again and then the main office, the air cooler in a breeze and with an easier travel than walking with a dozen blisters. You cycled slowly, taking in the unruly wind of cobblestone sidewalks and curiously planted palm trees near the planned planted flowers and each house in their own entirety in comparison to your own and the license plates of each car in each driveway as they advertised various regions and places and worlds aside from the one you were living in.

The blue maintenance truck elicited bile in the back of your throat from the incident earlier in the week as it sat parked on the street corner where sprinklers poked out of the turf and sprayed onto the green and yellow logo pasted to the side. The cab was empty but the yard it was parked in front of wasn’t, the knee height gate surrounding the shrubbery open with Jeongguk’s feet planted just on the other side of it.

You whipped your gaze from the slice of hedge trimmers through an exotic looking tree, instead looping your bike onto the opposite sidewalk and in the opposite direction. To no avail, the cul de sac throwing you back around like an out of control speed skater and suddenly the distance in front of you was filled only with the image of Jeongguk’s bare shoulders.

The bike coasted underneath you, leather relaxing its strain on your blisters as you concentration instead fell to the defined ridges between his shoulder blades, ones that rippled under a thin sheen of sweat each time he drew the trimmers open and shut, fluttering confetti like green to the grass below. The gardening tool fell as you watched, one arm staying above his head as he wiped a glove covered hand across his forehead, pasting more of the faded red fringe to the sweat already glistening there than clearing it. In the same moment did he pivot, trimmers dangling at his thigh, but this time you weren’t focused on the short black clinging desperately to his lean hips or the bunched white shirt sticking out from the waistband, rather the defined lines of his trimmed stomach starting underneath his ribs and disappearing underneath the elastic.

Jeongguk calling your name wasn’t part of the mirage and your rounded mouth jerked up just in time to notice the rapidly approaching edge of the curb.

Your dry mouth didn’t need water when it instead got the sprinkled of gravel, your bike tire colliding with the blocked concrete below and throwing you off to the side. A pain registered as a skid down your elbow but nothing quite matched the shamed embarrassment that flushed at your cheeks as a distant shit, hey! echoed in your ears and gravel crunched under approaching footsteps.

“Hey, woah, are you okay?—” You felt like you were underwater, like the ocean had suddenly decided it could eat the human race and was choosing you as its first victim, “—shit, you’re bleeding.”

A sting to your arm drew you above water and fingers that weren’t your own wiggled in front of your blurry vision, coating in a glob of dark red. The dots in your vision worsened when there was a pressure around your arm, Jeongguk’s t-shirt yanked from his shorts to act as a makeshift bandage and you couldn’t even appreciate the feeling of his hands touching you when you felt like you could vomit all over them any second.

“Hey, hey, babe can you hear me? Don’t pass out on me, it’s just a little scrape. C’mon, hey, I have some water in my truck, give me a second—”

The grass was a welcome pillow to the throb in your head, clearing the specks of black and white in your vision just enough for you to welcome the overhead blue curling around the landscape. You focused your attention on a cloud, one shaped like a disfigured dolphin, until it slipped in front of the sun, the rays spilling out in thick shards from between the transparent water vapor chilling the new layer of sweat that had slipped over your skin in your near faint.

You shuddered as more of the dots in your vision transferred to a seeming chill in your veins, goosebumps crawling across your arms and leaving a dry, cotton taste in your cheeks. Scrambling footsteps in the gravel returned as quickly as they had retreated and a gentle hand slipped behind your shoulders, aiding you in sitting up enough to bring your lips to a cool splash of water.

“I’ve been telling Seokjin to replace the brakes on these for months,” Jeongguk passed the water bottle into your still twitching fingertips, instead taking a seat next to you in the grass.

You were shaky in taking another gulp of the lukewarm water, letting it slide thickly down your throat. Various retorts snagged in the back of your throat and you suppressed them like the urge to glance over at him. Instead, a soft hum came out, one emitted through another cheek full of water.

“Well, when you’re ready, I’ll drive you back to the house and take the bike back—”

“I’m fine,” You croaked but you punctuated the sentiment by gathering your feet underneath you. A dull pain throbbed in your forearm and you swayed slightly in your crouched position, but you managed to stand with no more than a few stars decorating the back of your eyelids.

Jeongguk stuttered behind you, scrambling to his feet as you hunched over the fallen bike, dragging it to an upright position by one of the protruding handles. He slipped a warm hand to the small of your back, stalling you. “You’re not going to try to ride back, are you?”

“Yes?”

“You nearly fainted just now. Do you really think that’s...the best idea?”

Your knee caught on the seat in your first attempt to straddle the bike but you were successful the second time, standing with shaky palms clenched on the handles. “Not really. But it’s not very far…”

You thought you’d shaken him, the bike wobbling as you pushed off, getting two tire rolls away before his figure was jogging up beside you, placing an insistent hand on the bars. “At least let me walk back with you,” Jeongguk insisted, red fringe not obscuring his wide-eyed concern.

You begrudgingly ignored the veins in his forearm, slowing the speed of your pedaling to let him guide you through the desolate roads of the quiet neighborhood. It was a quick but silent trip, Jeongguk turning to balance the bike with two hands as you clambered off on shaky legs. He’d barely pivoted from depositing it back into its empty space on the rack when you’d pushed the tiny set of keys against the center of chest, too engrossed in a range of mortification.

“Here,” You bit out, “Thanks again.”

You took off in a rumpled mess of gravel, sunburn, and a bloody t-shirt as Jeongguk called after you some variation of be careful! that almost sounded like he was laughing.

The blood caked off his t-shirt on the third wash (when you managed to understand the complex mess of dials lining the top of the machine) and you hung it on a wire hanger on the tiny awning that extended outward from the house onto the concrete. He’d have to duck underneath it to do his job as you hid faithfully in your bedroom and pretended to nap for the duration of his visit.

There was a distinct clattering outside as the morning hours drew into the afternoon and you buried your head underneath the puffy duvet, taking comfort in the flash of colors across your phone screen even if you were mute to the video you’d played. But then the clutter outside transferred to the slide of the patio door and the video disappeared as your phone fell face down against your waist and you froze.

Jeongguk was calling your name, fluctuating in volume as he moved about the main part of the house. You winced each time the scuff of his bare feet moved closer, relaxed when it was farther away, and sighed when he tried, “I know you’re in here. Seokjin didn’t see you leave today. Or yesterday. Or the day before.”

You swallowed your pride and the unattractive scab growing on the flat of your forearm as you stalked out of your room. You found him mostly clothed this time, hands braced on the lip of the bar in the center of the kitchen with his phone pressed toward his nose in one hand.

“What, have you been watching me?”

There was a fond smile that crept to Jeongguk’s lips as he turned to look at you, “Making sure you didn’t bleed out, actually, but if you want to look at it that way.”

You paused in the hallway, feet as wide as your shoulders and arms folded tight to your chest. Only then did you realize you still had flannel pajama shorts and a flimsy white shirt on. “Well. Here I am. With only minor injuries. So uh…”

There was a glass plate in the flat of his palm before you could blink, a pyramid of chocolate chip cookies wrapped with plastic presented before you. “I, uh, made you some cookies,” He blinked, tossing his head toward the refrigerator. The red in his hair had faded to a harsh pink, “and there’s fresh lemonade in the fridge.”

“Your t-shirt is hanging outside,” You blurted in response, “free of blood.”

Jeongguk’s nose wrinkled, turning to deposit the cookies to the countertop again, “Didn’t want it back. I have fifty of the same thing. But thank you…”

You stared at the back of his head, where dark brown roots had begun to weave through the sharp red. After a moment, you blinked, “...so you can bake?”

He shrugged without looking at you, peeling the plastic away from the plate to pluck a cookie into his palm. He glanced over his shoulder, endearing smile dimpled into his cheeks and you melted like the bits of chocolate that brushed against his digits when he stretched the treat out to you, “Eh. Try one?”

Jeongguk’s gaze followed you as you shuffled around the kitchen, sliding out one of the bar stools with the crook of your foot to slip onto the round leather. You reached over the countertop, snatching a napkin from a pile near the sink to spread out in front of you, lips pressing into a geometric shape in your cheeks.

“C’mon, hand it over.”

He bypassed your wriggling fingers to place the cookie down on your napkin, watching you with a bated breath and round eyes. Soft irises followed the path of the piece you broke off the cookie to where you nudged it into your mouth by the curve of your thumb. The cookie crumbled across your tongue, melting in a mess of sugar and chocolate that gurgled a pleasured moan from your throat as you dived in for two, four more nibbles on the soft corners.

An amused expression wrinkled at his cocked eyebrows and the small sliver of his teeth when your eyelids fluttered open from devouring half the treat, “Good?”

“You can bake,” You affirmed, breaking off another bite sized corner. “Maybe I should wreck bikes more often.”

“No,” Jeongguk assured, replacing the cookie with a fresh one before turning to your fridge to yank out the pitcher of lemonade, “You definitely should not.”

His stature went fishing about the kitchen area, yanking open cabinet after cabinet until he found something suitable, glass pieces smudged from years of use. He pulled down two, placing them in front of the pitcher.

“You know, your food selection here is pretty sad,” He handed over a full glass, watching as you took a languid gulp.

“I don’t exactly know where the grocery store is,” You argued of the boxes of leftover pizza stacked inside your fridge and the singular bag of pretzels you’d smuggled onto the airplane. “Nor do I have a car, and biking is certainly out of the question—”

Jeongguk ignored you, opening and closing drawers until he found the packet of paper Namjoon had left for you, the FAQOTH. His thumb lodged between the pages, squinting at the ink as his voice muffled around the rim of his own glass.

His tongue swiped at the lemonade clinging to his upper lip, sighing, “You really didn’t read this, did you? There’s, like, seven cab services to choose from. And at least six of them know where the Walmart is.”

You dismissed him with a wave of your hand, snatching the packet of paper from his grasp to flatten it over the napkin you’d been snacking from. “All Namjoon has listed are pizza places…” You trailed off, “I need restaurant recommendations. Throw some at me.”

“That’s a pretty broad question. I have a lot.”

“You’ll have to show me a few before I leave.”

You stared at each other in a passing silence that heightened your mortification like bile on the crux of your throat, especially when Jeongguk cocked an eyebrow, the slightest of smirks slanting his lips as his chin unhinged, falling to his chest as he fished aside for another napkin.

“Maybe…” He trailed off, snatching a pen from the same drawer the FAQOTH had came from. “But for now—” He scribbled some more on the surface pebbled in design, scratching out a name and an address before presenting the drooping napkin to you, “—try this place. I think the cab drivers can find it...”

The Dusty Dolphin bordered the line between the natural white sands of the beach and the main strip of highway that cascaded down the coastline. It was as if sitting on the border in territories, the inside seating of the restaurant on soft grasses sticking through sand like soil with an asphalt parking lot lined in chipped neon parking spaces just a walking distance away, while the outside seating was perched on the beach, a patio raised on wooden platforms with brightly colored umbrellas stuck through the center of wooden tables.

Your fingers paled your knuckles with how tightly you clenched your fists, flip flops slapping against the wooden surface as you climbed up a rickety staircase to tell an uninterested looking hostess that it would be just you.

“Outside?” It wasn’t really a question of yes or no, more of a confirmation of what she was expecting you to say as she hopped down from her stool and began to collect silverware and a glossy menu.

Your sure was lost under your breath as she took your curt nod as the answer, weaving through the close knit tables in the indoor seating to lead you through a single set of double doors and to an empty table on the far corner. Again, her, “Is this okay?” was a confirmation, not an affirmation, and your nod had her saying your server will be right with you when she’d already slipped back inside.

The sun peaked out from behind the lapping waves on the horizon, the blackness engulfing the farthest waves a taste of the sun’s sleep for a few hours, leaving the world with a brilliant mesh of pastel hues, colored together like oil crayons as brushes of wispy clouds rushed by to the melody of the water rushing to the shore. A breeze rolled with the motion of the water and you tugged your thin cardigan closer to your torso, not helped with the fans bolted to the overhead framing that continued to rotate softly, a cooldown from their midafternoon duties where they whirred fatefully.

“Hey, told you the cab driver could find this place.”

Jeongguk stood in front of you with the dopiest of grins on his lips, a tiny and audible giggle stumbling out from the shocked expression that met your features. He was adorned in all black, tight black jeans, a black belt cinching a black t-shirt into his waist, a black apron snug just a beat above the belt buckle. His bright locks were styled, parted away from his forehead in a calculated fashion that made one swoop a tad bigger than the latter side. Pens and straws and a tiny notepad were tucked into the pouches of the apron and he held a notepad of a similar fashion up, pen clicking rapidly as he continued to giggle at you.

“You work here?” You blinked, and then added with flat palms slapping against the front of your menu, “Is there anything you don’t do?”

“Can’t quite train the dolphins at the wildlife reserve yet, but we’re getting there,” His nose wrinkled in another laugh, pen clicking out finally as he rested it against the paper, “What can I get you to drink?”

“Uh. Water, I guess.”

“Boring,” Jeongguk scribbled shorthand to the pad, “Are you going to get something a bit more exciting than chicken strips for your meal?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be heckling the paying customer.”

“Seriously,” He eyed you again, “Do you know what you want?”

You opened the menu for the first time, the array of seafood and pastas and salads and various other dishes overwhelming you with him hunching over you, shuffling to read over your shoulders.

“What do you recommend?”

“Well, we’re pretty known for seafood—” You shot him a look, “—obviously. But like, all the shrimp is pretty good—”

“Because of the shrimp business in town?”

Jeongguk laughed, “Seokjin?”

“A little bit.”

He hummed, chin hovering dangerously close to your shoulder before he straightened, shuffling between the railing around the porch area. “I’ll bring you a couple things,” He decided, mostly to himself and absently over his shoulder,

A couple things meant a platter of shrimp, cooked, seasoned, piled, and ripped in different variations, piled high like the pyramid of cookies you’d nearly devoured after he’d left your house. His manager complained twice upon finding him sitting with you, judging your expression as you sucked some butter contraption off the ridges of a steamed shrimp and teasing you of the flakes of garlic clinging to the corner of your mouth. He returned to refill your water when you’d only taken a few sips from the candy striped straw and ignored you three times when you asked for the bill as the sun completely disappeared beyond the water, leaving the sea to one giant stretch you could not see but could hear the threat of.

“Here, I guess,” Jeongguk settled the black fold down on your table, leaving with a wink that illuminated in the artificial porch lights hanging from the center of the still turning fans. It was enough lighting to read that he’d paid for your bill, scrawling a giant smiley face underneath the amount.

You sighed, prepared to reprimand him as you carefully folded the receipt to slide into your pocket but two colored notes underneath caught your attention. The pink one read wait on me, I’ll drive you home. You placed it aside with a check to your phone, finding it five minutes from closing time of the restaurant as a majority of the other patrons who had long fled the premises.

The second note was yellow, the handwriting a bit more loopy, calculated in a sense.

A mirage is the peace the night time sea suggests; a reality is the beauty your soul creates.

Jeongguk was free of the apron when he returned, shirt untucked, and a large blue jacket shrugged across his shoulders. The same giddy smile from before remained plastered to his features as he dug in his pocket, pulling out a set of keys that he tossed and caught in the same palm.

“Ready to go?”

You folded the sticky note carefully, slipping it with the collection of bills in your back pocket.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He left notes while you were asleep and he had another schedule to get to, choosing your pool as the first to clean and assess and correct the chemical balance of, leaving the bright blue paper with tacky glue stripped on the top to the patio door.

You caught it when you shrugged outside with a piece of toast in hand and your laptop folded under your arm, crumbs decorating your knuckles as you slipped the paper off the sizable smudge on the glass to bring it to your nose.

Think of dream, sleep of you.

He left notes on the hedge just outside your door on his way to the neighbors to fix a faulty outlet in the upstairs bedroom for a family who’d just arrived and had decided to cram three children with twelve electronic devices between them into that very room.

It was bright pink and sealed to the petal of a flower you debated picking, a petal that dislodged anyway when you plucked the note instead, decorating the stone walkway with a single question of soft red hues.

Bloom in my heart like the question of my soul.

He left notes on the inside of your refrigerator, right on top of a family sized bottle of orange juice he’d watched you haul through the front gates of the neighborhood while Seokjin assumed he was paying attention to his instructions for the disposal of some lawn chairs at the community pool near the beach.

You found it after he left in a flurry of more cookies, the smell of chlorine, and an off handed comment about you needing more variety in your life than water and orange juice, a yellow note that rivaled the unnatural coloring of the juice when you’d purchased a brand name rather than the more expensive, family brand.

Orange juice sucks, that much I do know.

You scattered them across the screen of your open laptop like an investigator piecing together the details of a crime while your neglected novel watched on, the cursor mocking you from beyond a note that said procrastinating my destiny with a useless metal fence. Color coding failed when Jeongguk switched from pinks, blues, and yellows to purples, oranges, and greens. His handwriting didn’t falter, suggest a trend with a certain harder press of his pen. The medium in which he wrote varied, lead or red pen or what appeared to be a blue colored pencil. Some told a story, only to be ruined with orange juice or elbow scabs or half eaten shrimp.

Your laptop screen was coated in a thin layer of film from placing and plucking the notes into various orders, one that hazed over your novel as you began to stack the notes into a neat pile in your cupped palm. It mirrored the midday haze that had curled across the neighborhood, the sun eliciting the mirage of steam curling off the pool water that seemed to hinder your conscious unable to understand the growing tree of poetry in your grasp.

The contents of the last paragraph, even without a layer of tacky glue and humidity stained air, made little sense, only one of five you’d written in three weeks. It was thick and expositional, a writing exercise within the draft, a rambling discussion of your surroundings when you’d decided to have your characters visit a beach rather than force their stories into some sand and sun.

Your outline answered your rhetorical question.

Why are they going to the beach? TBD.

You deleted the fifth paragraph and shut your laptop. Four paragraphs in three weeks.

Soft fluttering of the notes between your fingertips kept the distracted state of your conscious occupied long enough to seek out an unnatural sound of nature. It was a scurrying from around the side of the house, scattering through dry pine needles and gravel poured between the concrete stepping stones. The cloud of your thoughts cleared enough to panic in confusion, leaving the notes underneath a corner of your laptop as you crept into your flip flops.

The wire gate was left open, swinging gently against the side of the house. Clear footsteps rut deep into the coarse brown needles, smudging into the mud below still damp from the morning rain shower.

Your first rational thought of it being a squirrel erased as you reached for the gate, pulling and latching it. Someone was walking a dog across the street, a tiny white poodle with a ridiculous haircut and a cat bell on its collar. A childlike scream traveled upward from the beach. The breeze clattered against the leaves of a towering tree planted entirely too close to the house.

The same gentle breeze fluttered a strip of pink against the side of the house.

“Dammit, Jeongguk,” You cursed, needles lodging between the rubber of your flip flops and your bare feet as you moved off the stepping stone path. It was pasted high, too, barely in reaching of your pinching fingertips as you leaned into the house and stretched as high on the balls of your feet as you could go.

Your back slumped against the house as you glared at your prize for thin scratches and a strain in your shoulders. A number. A phone number.

With a shitty smiley face, a curve and two dots, beneath it.

You cursed through another layer of pine needles, deserting your flip flops on the far end of the pool deck as you hopped across seething hot concrete to retrieve your phone from underneath your towel. Pointed thumbs jabbed in the number to a new text thread, equally as prominent in clicking out a message.

What the hell are you trying to tell me with these notes, Jeongguk?

For thirty-seven agonizing seconds, you thought your only answer was the smiling emoticon with tiny red hearts dotted around the surface. And then three little dots appeared in the bottom left corner.

Everything. Meet me at the beach tonight?

You followed the sound of music, passing only a family with two tiny girls, headlamps strapped to their foreheads and plastic sand castle buckets clutched in their fingers as they chatted eagerly about what they’d seen underneath their feet, and a colony of the very crabs they’d been trying to capture. Your flip flops followed the beat of the guitar melody, pattering against the flex of your thigh where you clutched them in loose fingers at your hip, bare feet sliding through the cool sand, occasionally catching on snags of sea shells and scurrying sea creatures.

The sounds grew louder, dimming the thrash of night time waves, and you found him, seated not far down the coast line on a ratty looking, red lawn chair.

Jeongguk glanced up from furrowed eyebrows when you cleared his throat, hunched over a guitar balanced neatly on short clad thighs. Confusion erased into elation as he grinned, tossing his head toward the empty lawn chair next to him, blue and with less frayed edges.

“Hey! Have a seat. I brought beer in the cooler behind you. And water. I can go get you anything—”

You ducked for the red plastic container, drawing out a dripping water bottle and cracking the lid, “It’s okay. Thank you.”

He visibly relaxed, the lingering stare on your lips wrapping around the bottle diverting back to his work on the instrument in his lap, fiddling with some of the tuners at the top. You watched as he worked, thumb coming out to strum at the bottom few strings before he sat back with a satisfied hum.

And then Jeongguk began to sing. Softly at first, a testing glance in your direction as soft pink lips seemed hesitant in parting. When intrigue lit your features, body visibly tensing, his mouth curled into a smile, voice a higher volume but a soft octave nonetheless, gentle and soothing like a retreating wave that lipped gently across the shells it was leaving behind. His gaze faltered from yours to hit a note, a scrunch to his nose, a vein down the length of his neck, a passion that you longed for as his voice fishtailed into an easy run. It was an unfamiliar tune to you, one that ended in a handful of endearing head bops and cheesy hums from Jeongguk as he strummed once, hard, down the strings of his guitar.

The smile on his lips wobbled, trying to contain his teeth but still dimpling in his cheeks as he blinked at you. He lost the battle with his smile when he spoke, testing “Good?”, with a slight giggle.

“The notes,” You said dumbly, “They’re your lyrics?”

“Some of them…” He sat the guitar in the sand with a shy hand wrapped around the back of his neck, “Some are just, I don’t know, poetry.”

“So you sing.”

“I sing,” Jeongguk nodded, “I like to think I’m a better singer than pool cleaner. Or cookie baker.”

You followed his gaze from your eyes to his clasped hands on his knees. “Have you tried to pursue anything in it?”

“No point,” His gaze moved onward from his hands to the ocean, squinting and closing, “Just a hobby.”

“For now—”

“For always,” He was staring at you again, curt in his sharp correction. After a moment, a tiny smile slanted his lips, “It’s okay, really. I enjoy doing it in my free time.”

You tilted your head, “Why are you sharing this with me?”

Jeongguk was standing above you, hand outstretched, shy smile flushing his cheeks even in the darkness. “Walk with me.”

He took the initiative the thread your fingers together, leading you down to the edge of where the water reached. The water still warm from the heat of the season lapped around your ankles as you trudged down the coast, hand in hand, silence welcome to the soundtrack of the ocean. After a sizable distance, Jeongguk sighed, footsteps stalling to yank your unsuspecting figure to a stop.

“I’m showing you because lately, they’re all about you.”

You blinked at him, hands still clasped but pulled at an unnatural distance between your statures. “Jeongguk, what—”

“Look, I’m extremely lame and not as good with actual words as I am with the notes I left you but…” He stepped closer, dropping your intertwined hands to swing between your bodies, “I like you. Basically.”

“Basically?”

A disgruntled whine left his lips and his gaze trailed over your shoulder, upward toward the sky, “I know you’re only here for another month and I know I barely know you but. I don’t know. I like you. And I felt weird envisioning a future where I didn’t at least try.”

Your skin warmed through the thin flannel draped across your sun irritated skin. Another step closer, this one initiated by you, followed by a soft squeeze and tug on his palm. “Like you said, I’m only here for another month,” Soft eyes darkened into the stars dancing around you wandered back down to your gaze, hopeful even as you sighed, “I’m supposed to be writing, anyway. That’s the entire point of my trip and I’ve barely got anything done…”

“I won’t be a distraction.”

“You already are.”

Another shy smile graced Jeongguk’s features, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“But a good distraction…” One more step and there was but a fingertips length distance between your torsos, your thumb running along his knuckles, “You’re a good distraction.”

“So what you’re saying is…”

You held up your free hand, pinky presented. “I’m willing to try, Jeongguk but—” You punctuated the word before he could hook the digit in yours, “—no obligations. Not really, anyway.”

“Do the obligations include or exclude kissing?” He braved leaning closer to you, even as the rosy hue on his cheeks spread, “Pleasesayinclude, pleasesayinclude, pleasesay—”

You tugged down on his hand, loose fist with your pinky presented falling against his shoulder as you connected your lips. He hummed happily into the seam of your lips, arm snaking around your waist to eliminate the distance between your torsos. “One month,” You punctuated between a breath of air, one he ignored with another languid kiss into your mouth.

“So I can’t tell Taehyung you’re my girlfriend?”

“Who’s Taehyung?”

“My roommate,” Jeongguk linked your pinkies while you were distracted, kissing your jaw, “I’ll introduce you to him.”

“Jeongguk,” You squeezed his hand and pinky in tandem, “One month.”

“Stop, you’re making your not-really-your-boyfriend sad.”

Kim Taehyung was all surfer, the stereotypical bleached blonde hair with dark peeking out of the roots, baggy black shorts with the white strings untied, a thin white undershirt hugging his lean figure underneath a blue shirt with some intricate design of flames and waves and a surfboard ironed on the front. His bare feet slapped through the corridor, grumbling something to Jeongguk’s greeting call, hair tossed back with a thick white headband around the middle of his forehead that pronounced his harsh eyebrows, ones that furrowed to inspect you.

“Hi!” He was loud, like an over excited golden retriever, especially when he beamed to tease his roommate, “So you’re the beautiful lady Gukkie here courted by flashing his stellar abs and less than comparable thighs.”

You gawked, cheeks heating because well, kind of, but the hand on the small of your back fist into the material of your shirt, pushing you forward and past his broad figure.

“Don’t you have a wave to almost drown in?”

“C’mon, I was just kidding, love!” Taehyung’s footsteps were heavy behind you, following your figures through a narrow hallway, “No part of Jeon is impressive enough to get you. Did he bribe you? I’ll pay the ransom.”

You giggled as Jeongguk paused around you, sucking in a breath through his teeth that materialized into a whispered, “If you ignore him, he goes away. Eventually.”

Your nose wrinkled, turning to look at the red-faced man pressed against your back, “But he’s funny.”

You’d paused in front of a doorway, one Jeongguk pushed open and glared pointedly at you. “Don’t encourage him. Go.”

Jeongguk’s room was wide, a contrast to the narrow hallway lined in creaking hardwood and paneled walls. It was open concept, not much furniture aside from a few dressers and the bed. Blacks, whites, and greys told the story with color sprinkled in from accented belongings, like a collection of keychains hanging off a billboard in the corner, the cork material of the wall hanging filed with various photographs pinned up by neon colored tacks. A string of lights hung above his headboard, polaroids dangling from the wires, similar ones pasted in a haphazard pattern on the same wall.

“You like photography?”

He watched you step to his corkboard, delicately sliding your fingers underneath a photograph so as not to touch the ink on the front. It was a picture he’d taken of Taehyung at a surfing competition, purposefully edited to look straight from a vintage yearbook.

“A little. Filming too....”

You nodded, letting the photograph flutter back against its board. Pivoting, slow steps carried you toward his slumped figure standing rigid in the center of his room, sliding your palms over his shoulders when you got close enough.

“All of these talents and you can’t dye your hair by yourself?”

Jeongguk’s fingers fell into the fringe hanging over his eyes, now blonde with hints of pink clinging to the ends of certain strands. A pout materialized but he didn’t whine, just leaning closer to you with tendrils of hair still secured between a hand behind his head.

“Just because it’s your first visit doesn’t mean I won’t subject you to Taehyung’s three hour lecture of proper surfboard waxing techniques.”

“Stop threatening me with a good time and lead me to the hair dye.”

His bathroom was as small as the hallway and you found yourself seated on the edge of the vanity with Jeongguk crushed between your legs. He didn’t seem to mind, fingers twitching from their place beside you to creep up to your thighs as you squinted at his head, plastic covered fingers globing harsh red through his hair.

“What’s your natural hair color?”

“Brown.”

You tapped at his roots, taking a glob with the crook of your fingers. “Why don’t you leave it at that?”

“Because red is cool.”

“Who told you that?—” You pulled your hands into your lap, careful to hold the stain away, “—Your girlfriend?”

“Don’t know,” Jeongguk leaned close enough to smear red on your forehead with his bangs if they weren’t pasted to his forehead, “Is my hair color cool?”

A playful look of disgust wrinkled at your nose, “Only half of your hair is dyed right now.”

He glanced behind you in the mirror, eyeing the glob of dye on one half of his head to the straight blonde on the latter. “So?” He blinked back to you, “Is it cool?”

“I don’t know,” You began to peel the gloves off, “Wash it out and we’ll see.”

You sat cross legged in the center of Jeongguk’s bed when he returned, half of his hair back to the vibrant red it had been when he nearly impaled you with a pool net, half the blonde it had been trending toward when he asked you to entertain his affections for a month more. He didn’t give you an option of a yes or no, flopping at the foot of the bed to press his cheek against your ankles, arms stretched out across your thighs.

“Hey,” He said after a moment, muffled against your jeans.

You tested the waters of placing a hand against his scalp and when he cuddled into your affection, you softly ran your nails through his hair. “Hey, what?”

“I let you read my things—” Jeongguk shifted to place his chin on your naval, blinking owlishly up at you, “—my things about you. When do I get to read part of your novel?”

“Hmm, when it’s finished and published and available in bookstores.”

“Is that soon?”

You shot him a look but he didn’t seem to be kidding. “No. Probably not. Especially since I’ve made virtually no progress.”

“Well,” He pecked your belly button over your shirt, snuggling back against you again, “I’d love to read an advanced screening version.”

You’d deleted the four paragraphs you’d completed in three weeks. Zero paragraphs in five weeks.

“We’ll see…”

You printed your outline in three separate copies, each one with their own unique set of markups of various color pens and pencils and highlighters, colors born out of your tiny sparks on inspiration that you tried to hold onto like a the end of a rope, one that would pull you to the surface for clarity, creativity, anything. But each time the trill of your red pen reached the end of the page, transferring over to your fingers on the keyboard, the half an ounce of rope had slipped through your fingertips, leaving you to tread underwater.

Those stapled pages were spread across a table on the patio area of The Dusty Dolphin, half sandwiched between your laptop that was attached to an extension cord. Jeongguk had hijacked both the Wifi password and an extra long cable, seating you in the far corner of the deck area and keeping you stocked with fresh water and samples of mozzarella sticks.

It was the third time you’d marked through and rewrote a certain bullet point, the result a smear of dying highlighter in neon yellow that you could barely read. You capped the highlighter and the open pen rolled to the center of your keyboard, turning your attention instead to the goosebumps that had appeared across your bare forearms and Jeongguk’s figure as he jogged out onto the patio deck.

“That my hoodie?” He questioned as he approached, your head halfway through the black fabric you’d had tied around your waist for the duration of the day.

“Could be Taehyung’s. I stole it from your laundry room.”

Jeongguk placed the new glass of ice water down, avoiding your papers and electronics to wrap a hand in the collar of the hoodie to tug your mouth to his.

“Nope,” He teased with a nip to your bottom lip in a whirling departure, “Mine.”

“Wait!”

He turned, nearly colliding with a high chair protruding out into the walkway.

“Come back, waiter.”

The pad of paper was drawn from his apron, just to appease the look the child’s mother shot him as he moved to stand next to you again. “Yes, paying customer?”

“Can you bring me real food, please?”

He began scribbling something before you could talk, mirroring your sentiment the same time you uttered it.

“The shrimp pasta?”

A bashful smile sunk your chin into your shoulders and you nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Course,” Another chaste peck on your lips that turned into two, then lingered on the third, only for heavy footsteps and a rough voice to have him jumping away.

“Jeongguk…” A figure was leaning out of the doorway dressed in an ironed white button up and black slacks, the tiny gold nameplate advertising manager first reading Yoongi. “Stop kissing customers, please.”

This time a horrified gasp from the mother in question, one that caused Yoongi’s eyes to widen as he moved for the table, shooting you a comforting wink as he began to explain the concept of a joke while Jeongguk disappeared back into the depths of the restaurant.

You managed to hack out two paragraphs while Jeongguk put your order in with a handful of dialog sprinkled within. His kiss was to the top of your head when he slipped the plate in front of you, careful to avoid your twitching fingers over the keys as he hummed.

“Any progress?”

Your response wasn’t a total lie. “A little bit…”

Two paragraphs and useless dialog tagged with edit later in six weeks.

You’d managed to catch a handful of the rope promising to pull you ashore, one you clung desperately to while your fingers, coiled equally as tight, wore the letters on your keyboard to nothing, backspace barely a factor as you left in typos and grammar issues and a myriad of useless punctuation. The lines from where your laptop sat in relation to the cover your swimsuit bottoms provided was of little concern, just as your hair tied messily on the nape of your neck and the lack of towel underneath the bare parts of your stature not covered by the swimsuit you’d stumbled into in route to reach the rope.

The paper outlines sat somewhere inside but you didn’t need them anyway, the digital copy enough to mark off pieces from as your word count skyrocketed, pages clicking over and over the hump you’d previously been stuck on, the rope dragging your belly first over but getting you there nonetheless. You typed until your mouth begged for the ice water you’d left inside and one of the two cookies of Jeongguk’s left, but you powered through into another page, giddy with the possibility but more focused on the emotion somewhere between determination and greed.

You heard the gate open but ignored it, you heard a call of your name but ignored it, and you felt the splash of water hit your ankles and glared at it.

“Hey!” Jeongguk resurfaced on the side of the pool. He’d fixed his hair, vibrant and red against where he brushed it out of his eyes. “Come in for a swim?”

You pursed your lips, determined to ignore him as your fingers started slow on the keys again. When you arrived at your previous speed, you huffed, “You aren’t supposed to clean today.”

He dunked his head under, resurfacing in a flurry of bubbles, “Does it look like I’m cleaning?”

“Jeongguk. I’m busy today.”

“You’re only here for another week.”

“Exactly!”

He sighed, forearms folding onto the concrete as he leaned forward, watching you, “Whatever you have is great. Better than great.”

“You wouldn’t know.”

“I have a vague idea because you won’t let me read anything.”

You were glaring at him again, the playful expression previously on his features hardened into something you couldn’t quite understand, one that softened only marginally as the seconds passed.

Jeongguk uttered your name, a gentle request, “Take a break.”

Your laptop sat open on the bare lawn chair, battery zapped the longer the heat bore down on it but the pointed stalk of your footsteps across the pool area had shoved it aside. The water was cold upon first touch but the reactions of your body didn’t show it, carrying you down the staircase until you were submerged, body crouching so that your chin skimmed the surface of the water until you were treading directly in front of Jeongguk.

“I’m in the water,” You hissed, “Is this what you wanted?”

He didn’t have it in him to giggle, a sad smile instead not quite reaching the dimples in his cheeks.

“No. I want you to believe in yourself.”

The push of your mouth against Jeongguk’s was wet, tasting of the chlorine that splattered around you when you stood to grapple for purchase on his shoulders. Strong arms encased your waist, accepting you anyway as one liquid staining your lips was replaced with something warm and tinged in salt, dripping in unwarranted streams from the corners of your eyes.

You whimpered when your back was pressed to the side of the pool, legs coming to wrap around his waist while your fingernails scraped at his back. “I’m sorry,” You gasped, his lips mouthing at your neck while he held you.

“Don’t be,” He reprimanded you with teeth on your collarbone, arms sliding higher on your waist to press you flush to his chest, “I’ve got you.”

Another miserable apology fell from your lips and your chin was jerked upward by a soft palm cupping your cheek, latter hand pressing into the concrete behind you. “I said, I’ve got you, baby girl,” Jeongguk reiterated, forehead pressed to yours. Something sad rippled in his starry irises, something that dug the dagger deeper into the hammering organ in your chest, “What do you need me to do?”

“Just, I—”

Words failed but the bury of your face into his neck, securing your ankles around his back and holding to him like he’d disappear any second, didn’t.

Jeongguk’s arms threaded around your stature again, nosing into your damp hair with a shaky sigh. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got you. Shh, it’s okay, it’ll be okay…”

Fourteen pages in seven weeks.

The weight of his palm in yours had never quite reached home, a foreign weight laced through your fingers from the hesitancy echoing a mantra in the forefront of your conscious, eerie and daunting and to the tune of your rapidly beating heart.

No obligations. A distraction. A good distraction. No obligations. Broken laptop charger. Not enough complete. No obligations. Too much dialog. Too little progress. No obligations.

Fourteen pages. Seven weeks. No obligations.

You squeezed your fingers together just to watch the joints retract under your skin, the moonlight a ghost over your knuckles. Again and it was inevitable to catch Jeongguk’s attention, his hand flexing underneath yours, smooth and gentle and waiting, accepting of the home your lost heart would need.

If you’d just let yourself knock on the door. No obligations.

“Hey.” He’d stopped walking next to you, the sand cold on your toes, the plastic straps of your sandals rubbing a blister on the soft crease between your fingers on your free hand. “Hey, can we…”

“Look,” You overlapped him, sandals falling from your grasp when you pointed instead. A small group of crabs ruffled through the sand in front of you, bumping through languidly, over and under each other. Jeongguk’s eyebrows nearly met at the wrinkled bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth slightly downturned when you glanced at him. Softly, you nodded, “Crabs.”

He let go of your hand, crouching. A cupped palm scooped through the sand, effectively excavating one of the crabs. It shook the sand from around itself, scurrying eagerly about the surface of Jeongguk’s hand as he straightened, stretching the creature out to you.

“Do you want to hold him?”

Thoughts of your novel and the overwhelming overhauls it’d endured in your eight weeks, the first a modest to a beachfront neighborhood, from a grocery store to a beach, from a bouquet of flowers the boy had been clutching onto for months while you worked on the details around him to a tiny crab who lasted long enough for you to hate the idea.

The tiniest of smiles made it to your lips, “Is there anything you can’t do, Jeon Jeongguk?”

He crouched again, releasing the crab in a flurry of sand dusted from his fingertips before returning to you. Curled fists made it into the pockets of his shorts, foot nudging into the ground below him as he shrugged. Wide eyes lifted from their spot at the tips of his toes to yours, the same sad smile lacing his features, “I can’t figure you out, apparently.”

“Can we...can we talk?”

He nodded, slowly at first and then all at once. A hand stretched in your direction again, fingers wiggling, the smile on his features a step closer to genuine. “C’mon, let’s go sit down.”

You followed Jeongguk up the beach, finding a space just in front of where the long grasses began, fluttering gently in the night time wind so much so that their soft ambiance almost outweighed the ripple of the ocean from farther up on the shore. Your hand retracted from his, sandwiched between your thighs but your shoulders still touched, sitting side by side as the moonlight crawled up the waves to be deposited onto the coast.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” You said after a moment. Features scrunched to the breeze, eyes shutting as you sighed, “I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

He hummed, “Do any of us?”

“You seem to,” Your cheek pressed to your shoulder, offering a smile when he glanced at you, “Mister gorgeous pool boy who can sing, play guitar, write poetry, bake, and catch ghost crabs without blinking.”

Jeongguk hummed once more, a lower sound this time, nose pointed toward the breeze. “If you think my ambitions in life stopped at tourist neighborhood groundskeeper and a waiter at a place named The Dusty Dolphin, I must have done a really shitty job at letting you get to know me over these couple of months.”

“I know that,” You nudged him, “but how are you content with your passions just staying passions? How can you not want more?”

“Let me ask you a question,” He nudged you back, chin meeting his upper arm to peer at you under vibrant bangs, “Why do you write?”

“Because I want to have a published novel.”

Jeongguk quirked an eyebrow, “Why do you want to have something published?”

“Because I’ve put years of work into the idea. I’ve drained my soul to invest it in this project.”

“Do you love it?”

You blinked, “My novel?”

“Your novel, your column, the newspaper, writing,” Jeongguk shrugged, “Any of it.”

“I did…”

“Did?”

“I’ve always been in love with the craft of writing—” Softly, you amended, “—my writing. My creations. And I’ve had slumps, I’ve endured writer’s block. I’ve gone past deadlines and I’ve scrapped entire plots, ideas, paragraphs, sentences. But never this bad. Not to the point where I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Why I even started writing the piece in the first place, what the end goal. What it was even supposed to be about, let alone anything about it.”

Jeongguk nodded, nose pointing toward the breeze again, cheek lulling to his arm, “Why did you come here, of all places?”

“I was sent here. Work leave.”

“What’d you do?”

“Told a nine year old that, not only are Disney princesses not real, but not a viable career option.”

He chuckled next to you, legs stretching out in front of him. “Harsh.”

“What about you?” You nudged him again, “Why do you write?”

“Because I love music and words are the language of music,” Jeongguk’s finger dug into the sand, absently drawing geometric shapes before brushing them away with the heel of his palm, “Even instrumental pieces can be described in words. Whimsical, haunting, pretty. That kind of thing.”

“I didn’t have to ask you if you loved it…” It was a rhetorical sentiment, trailed off as you stared at the nudge of his fingernail into a crooked rectangle.

“Can you do me a favor, when you go back home?”

“Please don’t tell me not to forget you. We live in the twenty-first century. I expect a picture of Seokjin with his shrimp magazine once a week.”

He was smiling when his hand slipped to your cheek, turning your gaze to his. “I’m serious,” His eyes flicked between yours, dizzying you in a mess of stars that never seemed to blur with the speed of his insistent gaze. “Scrap your entire novel. Start over.”

“What? Do you understand—”

Jeongguk’s lips felt like home. You hadn’t placed your guard around those. “I don’t understand. You won’t let me read it,” His forehead pressed to yours, “but just try it.”

“But Namjoon—”

Another kiss, gentle, a brush of your mouths together, just enough to swallow your insecurities. “The new one will be just as great. Better. More than enough to send to Namjoon.”

“How do you know?”

His thumb brushed against the apple of your cheek, eyes following the movement, “Would you allow him to read your current draft in its entirety? Not just what you’ve gotten finished while here.”

You hesitated long enough for Jeongguk to kiss you again, lingering enough to properly swallow what you were going to say. No, absolutely not.

“Might as well try—” His cheeks dimpled and it was the first genuine smile you’d allowed yourself in days, “—right?”

“Can you do me a favor?” You asked after several seconds of indulging in each other’s affections, lips swollen and brushing against his mouth.

“I won’t send you shirtless pictures every morning, no—” He shifted enough to shed himself of the pink checkered flannel on his shoulders, wrapping it to your shoulders to pull you against his side, “Taehyung already thinks I’m vain.”

You smacked Jeongguk’s shoulder and he giggled, leaning forward just enough to brush the tips of your noses together. Once. Twice. Four times.

“No,” You tilted to squish your noses together, locking his gaze to yours, “Try to pursue something with music. I don’t care if it’s DJing at that shitty club Taehyung was trying to get us to go to last week. Or maybe busking on the weekends. You can set up in front of the pond as you enter the neighborhood.”

“I don’t…”

“Try it,” You punctuated it with a hard kiss to his lips, “What can it hurt?”

You’d shifted to lay between his legs, cheek on his chest, kisses shifted to his chest over his shirt, his sprinkled to your forehead, cheeks, nose. He hummed into the ministrations, nosing over your hairline.

“Theoretically, if I were to become a famous musician, would you come to my first gig? It’ll never happen, but you’re a writer. Speaking in hypotheticals...”

You settled your chin between the hard planes of his chest, “Depends. Will you buy my novel?”

“Three copies. I’ll come to three separate book signings to get personalized notes from you.”

You giggled and Jeongguk couldn’t help but kiss your nose. Twice. “Then yes. I’ll come to your first gig. Maybe two of them, if you pay for my plane ticket.”

He seemed satisfied with the answer even as an insecurity seemed to linger on the tip of his tongue, one that festered when he glanced over your head to the ocean, still as dark and thrashing as before. “You really won’t forget about me, will you? Because truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever forget about you.”

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately. Give me your email and we can be penpals. You can remind me not to crush the dreams of elementary students while I’m at work…”

“...but no, Jeongguk,” You squeezed his waist, pressing your lips to the center of his chest, “I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll still send you my lyrics. They’ll probably be about you for a while, anyway.”

“I’ll let you read snippets of my novel, once I restart. Actually let you read something I’m proud of.”

“I’ll send you a picture of the first dollar I get from busking. It’ll probably be from Seokjin, but it’ll count.”

“I’ll miss you. And your cookies.”

“Miss implies forgetting,” His index finger lifted to prod at your pouted bottom lip, “We aren’t forgetting.”

Another sad smile, a different type of sad, one of the up most cliche smile because it happened, adorned your features as you raised a pinky finger. Slightly crooked, open, without your guard, “Pinky promise?”

Jeongguk’s lips distracted you from the feeling of home that came with the link of your pinky’s, squeezing onto your digit. “Pinky promise.”

Zero progress in eight weeks.

Park Jimin was standing in front of your desk with a copy of your novel in hand, a nervous smile pasted on his plump lips, feet shifting awkwardly beneath him as he waited on you to finish typing. He’d told you to keep working and who were you to deny him of that request.

“What can I do for you?” It wasn’t anything work related. You’d already passed the advice column and your office down to him in exchange for a feature column and a better office with a better computer monitor. He wasn’t getting that too.

The book hit your desk and he scurried to amend the flurry of papers that kicked up around it, speaking as he shuffled through the documents. “My girlfriend, she, uh, loves your novel and I was wondering if you could, uh, sign it for me? Maybe? It’d make her day, year probably, and—”

“Yeah, Jimin,” You reached for the book, dismissing his efforts to clean your desk with a flick of your wrist and a smile, a genuine one, “Of course I can sign it. What’s her name?”

The waxy cover contained the result of your efforts, the painstaking nights you’d stayed up sobbing over your manuscript, the early symptoms of carpal tunnel from hacking at your backspace too much, your familiarity with deleting and recovering entire documents. But most importantly, the return of your passion, your love, your fears the ultimate roadblock to the end of your novel and the beginning of a new, the one currently hidden behind a couple emails and your column for the following week.

The beauty of dual screens.

“Thank you so much,” The blonde gushed, clutching the novel against his chest when you were done scrawling on the cover with a ballpoint pen, “She’ll be so excited. Thank you!”

Your phone was prepared to text Hoseok, did you pay Jimin to do that?, when you noticed another notification, red and glaring at you from your messages application. It was a familiar contact name, a message written in a font generated by something, a three step process he must have taken to type, copy, and paste it. Even through the silly font did your heart swell.

They say lest we forget, but why forget when I can be there with you, if you’ll let me.

You kicked away from your desk, propping your foot onto the seat of your chair, phone onto your knee.

Alright, Guk, what’s the significance of this one?

There was several seconds of typing, deleting, typing again, silence, more typing. Finally, a message. A single emoticon, the side eyes, the ones that knew something with a slightly upturned mouth. You were halfway through another inquiry, an okay, what the hell does that emoji mean, Jeon? when you received a picture.

His hair was brown now. Dark and fluffy and disheveled across his forehead where a single pink note was pasted to his skin. The ink was dark, prominent, like he’d sat and scraped at it for hours.

I’LL SEE YOU SOON.

You called him.

“Jeongguk, what the fuck are you talking about—”

“I got an audition.”

You paused and he continued with a shaky breath, “I got an audition. In your town. For music. Singing.”

“...so what you’re saying is you’re going to become a big superstar and I’m going to have to pay my own way to your first concert—”

“Baby,” Jeongguk whined, “I haven’t got the spot yet.”

“Yeah, but you will.”

There was another pause, some rustling in the background and then he hummed, “I’m going to sing a song about you. For the audition.”

Your cheeks heated and you rolled toward the window, blankly staring at the towering building next to the office. “Yeah? What’s it called?”

“Wonder.”

“Yeah I wonder what you’ve titled the song about me, if it’s not my name—”

“The song is called Wonder…”

There was a pause and he was singing again, just as soft as you remembered, the same lyrics he’d serenaded you with on the beach holding a different weight now, both literally without the organic strum of a guitar and figuratively to what the polished poetry did to your healed heart, open and ready.

You murmured into his soft, teasing hums, hugging a knee to your chest, “That song, huh?”

“I told you already. I can’t seem to write anything that’s not about you,” You could hear Jeongguk’s smile, “That didn’t change in the months since you went home.”

Your cheeks heated all the way to the back of your neck, filtering to the shy roll of your shoulders as you hunched over your knee, squeezing it tighter, and you reveled in that he couldn’t see you to quip, “You know what has changed though? Your jokes. I think they’ve gotten dumber.”

There was still a smile in his voice, even as he threatened, “Alright, listen here you little—"

“Watch it or I’ll sue for you using ‘me’ without my consent.”

“You based an entire character in a bestselling novel after me. It’s only fair.”

You spluttered, “I did not—”

“And for the record? Washboard abs is a lame description of my godly physique. Even I know that and I’m but a mere lyricist.”

“I’m going to kick your ass when you get here.”

“...so you’ll want to see me?”

“Of course,” Your voice softened and you watched a bird climb altitude before fluttering to the windowsill, “I have to sign your three copies of my novel.”

Jeongguk laughed, sweet in your ears.

“I can’t wait…”

[davamuramatsu]

Celebrating Life after Loss

If you haven't been here, it is inevitable that at some point you will be. I never thought my Mother would actually leave this plane called living. I had her my whole life. She was tired and her life journey was nearing the end. I felt it when she would take verbal inventory with me in conversations prior to her death about her mother creating beautiful frocks as a child with imported fabrics from Italy. All hand made. The best dressed child in her era. She grew up to be a very spicy lady with grace, elegance and style. It wasn't until the 70's that she began to paint. Her medium of choice was oils and acrylics. I now am the proud owner of many of her paintings. Her spirit lives on. I feel closer to her now than when she was dimly fading in this life as we know it. Below is one of her creations. She called it Pompeii. Having taken her talent rather for granted back in the 70's, I can tell you, now I cherish it. This piece hangs in my home now.

Manifesting reality from a dream

My Mother’s death instilled a form of inner courage and confidence within me I didn’t realize I was capable of. One fine evening in July, three weeks before she passed –  I reverted back to a musician’s voice I discovered on a Claude Challe CD in 2008. I was still producing fashion shows at this point for Matsu. Little did I know how powerfully this man’s breathy, angelic voice would later influence me. I must have been the one to raise the views on You Tube by hundreds as I watched it on multiple occasions. In watching and listening to Jehro, I began to question, why? What was it about this music that brought me into my self? It triggered all of my-selves: my childhood self, my teenage-music major self, and my artiste adult self. I simply felt magical at the sound of his voice. So much so, I Googled his place of performance the following morning and made the discovery that I could take this mental fantasy that spoke so strongly to my heart and turn it into a reality. My desire to be in his presence-creative energy-was stronger than that of the fear of the unknown or doing nothing about it at all. Mom’s passing shone a new light on my life.

Fast forward. I woke up the following morning with a strong will to locate where Jehro was going to perform next. Voila! After some research, I found him on the program to perform on November 24 at Cabaret Sauvage.

I got tickets (with the assist of my fluent-speaking French friend) since the ordering was all in French online. Bingo. Scored. Next, I contacted him through Messenger. I completely put myself out there. I shared with him my “vision” to fly to Paris to hear him. He responded and welcomed me. I was momentarily star struck just from receiving a response. A lovely one at that. He was flattered. I was shy and beginning to realize just what this push meant. It will be uncomfortable. I will be attempting to accomplish something very foreign and clearly beyond my own comfort zone. I had no choice but to push through. The initial contact was made in July. This is what you call serious planning!

Paris et moi

Within the very French “bordello style” musical venue and the dimly lit room, the stage comes alive with his talent, voice, guitars and drums. I was finally in the place I dreamed of since last summer. Meeting him backstage after the show was one of the most exciting moments I’ve experienced in my life. Submerged into another culture with all strangers in one small room, where he was the center of attention-having just completed a stellar concert. The Cabaret has many years of history. The decor was slightly raw but reminiscent of a dinner club.  The smoke filled circular room added ambience as the lighting changed colors throughout the evening. If you’d like to hear this magnificent magical voice click here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpZJ59CtlSc

 And here we are. Back stage. I’m starstruck, and I think he’s over-the-top flattered. We continued on for the night along with his  bandmates into Bastille, sipping Bordeaux and Chartreuse until 4 am in the morning. This adventure will never be forgotten.

The original focus of my trip to Paris was to heighten all of my senses. Prior to meeting Jehro, I filled my afternoon with another sensory distraction: the art of creating perfume. The notes and composition of the scents are not unlike those of writing music or playing an instrument. The correlation was intense. 

See The Art of Creating Scents post.

The Nurturing Pearl

Shame on me! I admit that I stereotyped the majestic pearl. I thought they were preppy. I thought they were boring. I often thought they lacked complexity in healing properties offered.  It wasn’t until I cleaned out my Mom’s jewelry box along, with my sister, that I realized how healing these creatures from the oyster are! My Mother had tons of pearls. Some costume, some real. Regardless, as I handled them in organizing the array that lay before us, they continued to ask to be fondled. Their round spherical smooth shapes were conducive to having a tranquil effect on my hands, then grew into my heart. After all, I had just lost my Mom 1.5 weeks prior to when I arrived down South to sift through her home. We started within her drawers and as I mentioned, her massive jewelry collections. This opportunity re-introduced me to the wisdom and beauty of the pearl.

Since I returned from Florida after this challenging yet necessary feat, I began visualizing pearls in my head - to the point that I am compelled to find some beauties and drill them, and create earrings first, so they would be on me at all times. I then somehow stumbled upon a collection of primitive looking baroque pearls ranging in colors, sizes and shapes. I made several long single strand necklaces to be worn as a talisman and an elegant accessory on the body. I even placed stacking roll-on bracelets into my collection with 18k gold bead accents on them as pictured below. The photos below depict several different pieces available in my Atelier and also in my online shop Nymph Jewels. I have not been able to remove the sensual pearl earrings from my ears in months. There is indeed something beautiful about their simplicity and understated elegance that works with each and every other piece I wear. As far as the wardrobe goes, this too is a wonderful backdrop for any pearl necklace I decide to wear on any given day. 

The mystery of the pearl runs deep. In Chinese culture, it is said that pearls fall to earth when dragons fight in the clouds. Dragons are often seen with a pearl in their mouth or claws - which is a symbol of immortality, luck and magic. Western lore, on the other hand, holds the pearl as the stone of Diana, the Roman goddess of the moon and wild magic. Worldwide, the magnificent pearl has been said to have the kind of legendary, mystical, restorative and healing powers that have fired imaginations for centuries. Pearls have been associated with the Moon and femininity, along with the fact they are grown underwater symbolizing emotions. Pearl energy represents innocence, purity and integrity. Due to their natural beauty, wearing the pearl is a natural attraction for bonding friendships and for love. From another standpoint, wearing the Pearl instills the bearer in accepting love, self love and nurturing. It’s no wonder they simply feel good to the eye and actual touch. There is no such thing as wearing too many pearls. They love one another and will love you for having chosen them to become part of your life.

Pearls will always now bring my spirit and soul close to my Mom’s spirit. This is most likely why I have worn mine daily, and have been encompassing the pearls into the Nymph Collection. Never a trend, always in style. They are the true form of classic elegance. Thank you Mom! I love you and miss you. I know you are up there watching me. You’ve inspired me in this lifetime. I promise not to ignore any inner signs from the universe, or the cloud formation because I’ll instinctively know it is you.

Yours in joy,

Dava

(Originally posted December 4, 2017)

[soyybeanboy]

If You Had The Chance To Change Your Fate...

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Words: 3,992

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Pairings: Rociet, fatherly logince, fatherly lociet, platonic anxciet, brief brotherly mociet (blink and you miss it)

Warnings: Crying, self-doubt, panic (but no panic attacks), mentions of breakups/divorce, a good hearty dose of Deceit’s potty mouth (swearing), arguing, mentions of Nazis (as in, our boys hate them)

Summary: Devon Lee, a hopeless romantic who would never admit to it, and Roman Adelio, a man who’s long since given up on love, are destined to be together. Will fate do its job correctly, or will the pair defy the ides of fortune?

A/N: This is a story I wrote for @quoth-the-sparrow​!!!! It took longer than I intended because it ended up being a monster of a story (originally it was only going to be around 1,000 words of pure fluff, but we can all see how that turned out), so dad, I hope you like it! (And I hope everyone else likes it too!) <3

10 years, 4 months, 13 days, 11 hours, and 58 minutes. That was how long Devon Lee had been waiting for his soulmate. As a child, he’d always assumed the world was colorless, and that everyone saw it the way that he did. But, as it had been explained to him by his older brother Patton when he was nine years old, eventually, when you found that one person who was destined to be your perfect match, your world would change. It was hard to explain how when Dee couldn’t even begin to visualize what this “color” Patton spoke of looked like, but his brother made it sound so appealing. “Dee,” He’d said, “You know that feeling you feel when your favorite TV show comes on at just the right time? Or… oh! Or that feeling when someone gets you the perfect gift?” And Dee had nodded as Patton grinned and said, “That’s what the world looks like when you find your soulmate.”

So, ever since that moment 10 years, 4 months, 13 days 12 hours, and 2 minutes ago now, Devon had been waiting. And waiting. And waiting. At a certain point he quite honestly had become sick of waiting and had renounced the prospect of soulmates as a whole, but deep inside his chest there had always been a longing that he would never admit to - a secret timer keeping track of the 10 years, 4 months, 13 days 12 hours, and 2 minutes that he’d been waiting. Not that he was counting or anything.

Roman Adelio, on the other hand, didn’t believe in soulmates, not one bit. He hadn’t since the moment his mother had walked out the scuffed front door of the house he’d grown up in, leaving him behind with only a father with the words, “Have you seen a pair of blue ballet slippers anywhere?” tattooed on his chest and the knowledge that even though the first words of his mother were permanently etched onto his father’s skin, that hadn’t stopped them from falling apart. He never wanted to be like them. So, he took the whole theory if Occam’s razor to heart and decided that the simplest explanation was that love was simply a fraud that he would never participate in.

…12 years, 6 months, 24 days 12 hours, and 9 minutes.

That was how long it had been since Roman had given up on love.

His skin was devoid of cheesy first word tattoos, and he was determined to keep it that way.

— — — — —

“Dee, come on, you’re 5 minutes late for your meet-and-greet already!” Virgil, Dee’s ever-so-irritable manager called from ten feet in front of the tardy YouTuber. Devon sighed and propelled himself forward with slightly more urgency, the tires of his wheelchair squeaking over the tiled floor.

“We’re not late, we’re simply rebelling against the society-imposed definition of punctuality,” he deadpanned, rolling past Virgil through to the outside of the building. “I, for one, think it’s an inspiring display of anarchy.”

“You know, it’s real funny to see you playing hard to get when you’re already hard enough to like.” Virgil huffed in response, giving the back of Dee’s chair a playful shove to get him going faster. The man laughed and deliberately slowed down, thereby causing Virgil to let out a sort of half distressed croak/half irritated groan. It was terribly amusing, to say the least. After a moment of tense silence broken only by Virgil’s incessant nerve-amplified echolalia, (“An- anarch- anarchy- anarchy- fuck…”), the manager finally snapped.

“That’s it, I’m going ahead. I’ll let the fans know you’re gonna be late, but you’d better hurry your ass up and get over there, okay? You have five minutes before I flip my fucking lid, Dee.”

“That sounds entertaining, maybe I’ll take my time just for that!”

“You have a goddamn death wish, I swear to god!” Virgil yelled as he took off sprinting towards the building they were overdue at. Dee chuckled and kept rolling along, enjoying how warm the sun was that day. His friends often joked that he was cold-blooded for how intolerant he was to the cold and… in truth, he wouldn’t deny it. It fit his aesthetic.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…” As the wind picked up, Dee noticed the voice that it was carrying with it. He didn’t believe in magical creatures like sirens, and yet his first thought upon hearing that voice was that no human could possibly sing so beautifully. The song was meant for a high voice, like the princess in the movie, but somehow the rich bass tones of the voice he was hearing brought the melody new life. In other words, he would allow this man to step on him, no questions asked. Dee’s vivid gray eyes - well, he had no idea if they were actually gray, because everything else was, too, but regardless - scanned the grassy courtyard he was going past and eventually landed on the shape of a man twirling around in the center of the yard. He was just as attractive as his voice was, further solidifying Devon’s resolve to allow this man to step on him. The wheels on his chair protested as he rolled into the grass, but Dee was so mesmerized by the image of this tall, lanky - was that a dress he was wearing? - unabashedly effeminate man that he hardly noticed the barrage of bumps.

Dee blinked, finding his vision going a bit blurry all of a sudden. Dots began flashing in front of his vision as he drew closer to the man, and he shook his head, absently dismissing it as an effect of jet lag. As he neared the man, getting close enough to make out details like the spattering of freckles all over his body, the light streak in his otherwise dark hair, even the collection of bandaids scattered all over his body, a sure indicator that he was either clumsy (he had so much limb for just one man, after all) or just plain reckless, Dee noticed something that he wasn’t sure how to explain. A change in the man’s face. The grays he’d spent his whole life staring at were morphing into something unrecognizable, and-

“Holy goddamn motherfucking shit…”

— — — — —

Roman clamped his mouth shut and turned to face whoever had just ever-so-rudely thrown off his groove. The courtyard had been blissfully empty for the first time that day and though he loved his fans as much as they loved him, a moment alone to sing had been a welcome intermission. Especially since he’d been around so many people bragging about their soulmates all day.

It was to be expected, of course, since Roman’s YouTube channel was dedicated to music and he sang love songs almost exclusively, but people introducing their soulmates to him still made him uneasy. All of the “We met because we were both fans of you!” And “Our first words were lyrics from your song, look!” Were sweet, of course, but still…unnerving. Every time he saw those tattoos he was that eight-year-old kid again, watching everything he loved slip away.

And now that his moment of solitude had been interrupted, he wasn’t gonna lie - he was more than a little irritated

“Excuse me, I was singing here!” He protested, placing his hands on his hips and sticking out his bottom lip in an indignant pout. Foot tapping fervently on the grass, he waited for the man’s response - a man who, Roman noted, was far more attractive than he had any right to be. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of green, though one had flecks of gold ringing the pupil. Roman hadn’t even known that was possible, he’d only ever seen characters in his favorite books described that way. Aside from that, his hair was an array of sloppily dyed and removed colors, with gray fading into yellow and then into purple and pink and blue and bleached-out blonde… it was like the guy had just grabbed whatever random boxes of dye he could reach and went nuts. It was cute, though. A large wine-stain birthmark made his fairytale-esque golden eye stand out even more and wow was Roman gay. That didn’t change the fact that he was tempted to go full Kuzco on this guy. He felt a pinch on his neck and winced, bringing his hand up to rub at it while he continued, “It’s not very polite to interrupt a man in the middle of a serenade!”

The man’s face remained blank and he blinked a few times, his hands tap-tap-tapping on the rubber wheels of his wheelchair.

“…I’m going to be real here, a moment ago I was annoyed but now I’m a little creeped-”

“You’re my soulmate,” The man whispered, so quietly that Roman wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. He hoped he hadn’t heard him right.

“…What? You-”

“You’re my soulmate!” The man shouted, eyes lighting up. “My brother once told me that seeing color was beautiful, but I never quite understood what he meant until now!” A moment of silence passed between them, and just as Roman was about to open his mouth to say that no, there must be a mistake, he didn’t even have a tattoo- “I’d apologize for the tattoo, but I find it rather funny that you have  “holy goddamn motherfucking shit” permanently etched into your skin.”

Roman let out a fearful squeak as he fumbled to pull out his phone and check his face in the camera. His cheeks and forehead were clear, nothing on his arms…he was almost ready to berate the man for lying when he noticed the dark words written in clunky, nearly illegible cursive on his neck. ‘Holy goddamn motherfucking shit.’

“…What?” This made no sense at all. He didn’t even know what to say. This man seemed nice and all, but Roman had promised himself he would never let this happen to him. There must have been some kind of mistake. “I don’t… I don’t have a soulmate!” He blurted stupidly, rubbing at the writing on his neck.

Dee squinted, confused. “…Right, of course you don’t. It isn’t like the first words I said to you just appeared on your neck and I can see color now, something that only happens once you find your soulmate or anything. But you know. Of course I’m not your soulmate.”

“No, I-” Roman stammered, falling back a step. “I-I- I don’t have a soulmate. And even if I do, I don’t want one!”

“Don’t…” Dee blinked, trying to process what this man, his soulmate, had just said to him. After all this time… he’d waited 10 years, 4 months, 13 days 12 hours, and 24 minutes for this? A guy who wanted nothing to do with him? “Are you serious?”

“Yes! Look, you seem nice and all, but I-”

“No no no, I did not wait ten years for this-“

“Oh, so you expected your soulmate to just fall all over you the moment you met him? To sweep you away and live out a happily ever after with you? Is that it? Well, I’m sorry to destroy your fantasy, but I don’t do love, okay?”

A sigh broke past Devon’s lips as he crossed his arms, leaning forward to catch Roman’s eyes. “Geez, who the hell hurt you?” He asked flippantly, somehow missing the way the man’s face paled. “The universe matched us at birth and you’re not even going to speak to me?”

“The universe is bullshit!” Roman yelled, catching Devon off guard. “It’s all a fucked-up system that I don’t want to be a part of! I’m not letting some metaphysical Tinder ruin my life again!”

Among all of that dramatic ranting, one word stood out to Dee. “…Again?”

Roman blinked, mentally running back through everything he’d said. “I…” Dee noticed how hard his voice was shaking. “Just leave me alone. Please.” He whispered desperately, turning on his heel and sprinting away.

Dee watched the man run, the heeled boots he was wearing clacking against the smooth concrete like a heartbeat.

Ba-dum, ba-dum.

That man was his soulmate.

Ba-dum, ba-dum.

He wanted nothing to do with Dee… and there was a reason why. Something that man hadn’t been able to say. He knew it.

Ba-dum, ba-dum.

But most importantly…

Ba-dum, ba-dum, creaaaak- the door of the nearest building opened and shut, the man’s face appearing once through the glass and then disappearing down a long hallway.

Someone had hurt him, and under no circumstances would Devon stand for that. With new resolve, he started painstakingly wheeling himself across the grass to follow his strange, sad new soulmate.

— — — — —

The moment Roman heard the door he’d run through shut behind him, he pushed into the closest bathroom and collapsed under the sinks. This was not possible by any stretch of the imagination. He’d come here to this goddamn con to have a good time and meet his fans and now he was, about to cry in a bathroom because some excited, well-meaning guy had come up to him and told him something that anyone else would be happy about. He let out a choked sob and covered his eyes, employing his fingers as little dams to keep the waterworks in. Going back out there with swollen eyes and a red nose was not an option.

What were his options, then? Avoid this guy for the rest of his life, not only subjecting himself to the constant fear of running into him again but the guilt of knowing that he’d deprived this guy of his (supposedly) one true partner, or accept it and live in constant fear of it all falling apart? He couldn’t do this right now. Hell, he couldn’t do this ever, what was meant to be the happiest moment of his life was making him feel things he hadn’t felt in years, things he’d never wanted to feel again.

“Anyone in here?” A voice called out, muffled through the flimsy wooden door of the bathroom.

“No!” Roman called back, mentally kicking himself for that stupid move.

“Good to know,” The voice replied, growing clearer as whoever it was pushed the door open. Roman heard the couple grunts and the squeak of rubber on tile, looking up for not even half a second to see his soulmate struggling to get the heavy wooden door open while his wheelchair kept rolling backward from the force of him pushing. “Stupid broken brakes…”

“What are you doing here?” Roman snarled, hastily wiping his eyes and retreating back further into the corner.

His soulmate shrugged as nonchalantly as a person could while fighting with a door, saying, “You seemed upset.”

“Yeah, because of you.” What was this guy’s problem? “I told you to leave me alone!”

“Well, I once told my brother that I wouldn’t come home from school until Aladdin came to pick me up on his magic carpet. We can’t all have what we want- a-ha!” He finally won the battle with the door, letting it shut behind him with a triumphant click! “Now, I believe we skipped some pleasantries. I’m Devon Lee. Or Dee, if you’d prefer. I didn’t catch your name.”

The bathroom went silent save for the shaky breathing of someone trying to stop crying and water echoing through the pipes overhead. Exchanging names would mean this man knew him. This man, with his mismatched eyes and crazy hair and obnoxiously bright yellow-and-green wheelchair (and people thought Roman was extra), would have a name to associate with his face. That would not do.

“I didn’t throw it.”

The excitement that flickered to life in Devon’s eyes was unexpected, and Roman nearly flinched when the man burst out, “Oh my god, that was not a Heathers reference!”

He got that? Most people only understood when he quoted the songs, not the script. “You know Heathers?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not like I’m a die-hard musical theatre fan or anything.” Dee laughed, a sound that made Roman think of bubbles. “Heathers, Waitress, Hamilton, Rent, Sound of Music, you name it, I know-”

“You like the Sound of Music?” Roman gasped. He pushed himself up off the floor, forgetting for a moment why he was so upset. “Most people I bring it up to tell me it’s a girl’s show.”

Dee grinned. His smile was pearly white, though Roman didn’t miss the shiny gold teeth in place of his incisors. A brilliant smile, shiny gold fangs, a love of musical theatre almost as obsessive as Roman’s… what didn’t this guys have?

“Girl’s show?” He scoffed. “Please, gender is meaningless and Julie Andrews’s voice is a spiritual experience anyone would be blessed to hear.”

“Yes! Finally!” His hands twitched as he resisted the urge to happy-flap them. “I must know, though, who’s your favorite character?”

Dee pursed his lips, tugging thoughtfully at his hair for a moment before answering, “Leisl. I admire her capacity for deception.”

“Oh? You’re a fan of deception?” Roman’s eyebrows rose, and the fear that he’d forgotten about in the wave of that’s-my-hyperfixaiton joy bobbed back up to the surface like a shell being tossed around in the sea. “…why not Rolf, then? He was a classic liar, and a talented one too.”

“Rolf?” Dee folded over cackling, clutching his stomach as he fought to speak through incredulous giggles. “He was a Nazi! Not to mention that he betrayed Leisl, the girl who loved him, by trying to get her family murdered. You must think so little of me to even imagine that I could admire him!”

Though Dee kept laughing, Roman had long since fallen silent. This wasn’t okay. He wasn’t supposed to connect with Devon - or… well, technically he was supposed to, but he didn’t want to, even if the guy liked the Sound of Music and understood his Heather’s reference and had come after him when he was upset, even if Dee was attractive and seemed funny and kind… even if he appeared to be everything Roman had ever wished for, there was too much of a risk. Maybe Devon would expect too much or they’d have a long relationship until one day Roman’s heart was broken.

‘And I call myself brave,’ Roman’s mind scolded him. ‘Roman ‘Never Runs From a Challenge’ Adelio, a coward since the year of his birth, 1999.’

“Look, Devon…” he began. Dee stopped laughing immediately, turning to face Roman with a kind of intensity he’d never seen before. “I… you seem nice, but… I don’t… the rest of my life can’t be dictated by this,” his nails trailed over the tattoo. “I’ve seen the aftermath. It… it’s not good.”

Now, it was Devon’s turn to go quiet. Or it would have been, if he weren’t such a loudmouth. “Alright, I can’t say I don’t understand where you’re coming from,” Carefully, he rolled forward. “And I… while I want a soulmate, it wouldn’t be right for me to force you to have me. All I ask is this.”

Roman cowered at those words. Something bad always came after ‘all I ask.’ What would he want? His number? Sex? Something worse?

“Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?”

“…What?”

Devon smiled, repeating clearly, “Would you like to go on a date sometime?”

“I-” Had Devon not heard anything he’d just said? “I said I don’t… s-soulmates aren’t something I-”

“No, no, no, you misunderstand. Ignore the tattoo, ignore the colors thing, that never happened. I like you, no-name kid. You seem kind and genuine, not to mention that you’re a thespian and seem to be haunted by the ghosts of your past-” Roman laughed despite himself. “-all things I find incredibly attractive. Soulmate or not, I’d like to get to know you better. So, that said,” Devon folded his hands in his lap, sitting back and smiling that million-watt, gold-fanged smile. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

And in that moment, that 15 seconds where he was faced with a choice he’d always dreaded having to make, Roman felt his racing heartbeat begin to slow. The panic-induced adrenaline drained from his system and he let out a heaving sigh. He still had two choices, but those choices had changed now. It was no longer a matter of fate. No longer a choice between being guilty or trapped. It was now option A) Go on a date with this cool guy who he kind of liked, or B) Turn down a date with this cool guy who he kind of liked. Well, Roman may have been a stubborn ass sometimes, but he was also incredibly gay.

“…You know what? Okay. One date.” Roman huffed, bouncing a red converse-clad foot on the tile floor.

“Excellent! I only need one more thing from you.”

“Oh?” Roman smirked, “Well, ask away.”

“Would you mind tossing your name now?”

Roman opened his mouth to acquiesce before promptly snapping it shut with a sly little smile and pulling a paper towel from the dispenser over the sink. “Sure thing.” A moment later, a slightly-crumpled tissue landed on Dee’s lap as Roman walked past. “I’ll see you around, Devon.”

Dee hastily smoothed out the paper, finding two lines of text written in broad, loopy block letters.

Roman Adelio

+1 618-0339-8875

“I can’t wait, Roman.”

— — — — —

“And that, my son, is how I met your father!” Roman finished with a flourish, wrapping his arms around Dee’s neck from his place on his husband’s lap. Logan, the ever-curious 7-year-old that he was, clung to Devon’s leg and asked,

“But why did you accept Pa’s date if you didn’t want a soulmate?”

Roman smiled, pulling his son up onto his and Dee’s lap (and chuckling as Devon shoved the pair of them off). “Well, your father was against nazis, so how could I say no?”

“…Daddy, that can’t be where the bar is.”

“It isn’t!” Devon was quick to cut in, playfully smacking Roman on the arm. “What are you teaching our small, impressionable child, Roman?”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Roman yielded. His teasing expression softening as he gazed at Devon. “In truth, I still think soulmates are complete bullsh-” One glare from Devon washed his mouth out. “-I mean, completely fake. Logan, my little piece of stardust, listen to me.” He gathered the small boy in his arms, feeling his tiny heartbeat against his chest. “It is you and you alone who decides who you’re meant to be with. If that person is your soulmate, then that’s beautiful. If not, it’s just as beautiful to love someone else. Do you understand?”

Logan looked up into his father’s eyes, letting a small smile spread across his face before nodding. “Yeah. I understand.”

“Good,” With a sigh, Roman stood, planting a tender kiss on Devon’s lips as he did so. “You know, my dear,” He whispered, leaning his forehead against Devon’s. “I may not believe in soulmates, but perhaps, to some extent, I believe in fate.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, my darling, that soulmates or not…I know I was meant to be with you.”

“Daddy! Pa! Gross!” Logan whined, wedging himself in between his fathers in a truly archaic act of rebellion.

Devon laughed, pushing himself off of his chair to make a wiggly little cuddle pile on the floor. The three of them fit together like long-lost puzzle pieces, each from different puzzles but all cut from the same mold. They may not have been what they were “supposed” to be, but they were still able to make something truly beautiful.

And that was enough.

[niscuit-gravy]

Ulquihime V-Day Exchange Fic!

AN: Thank you for being so understanding about my time crunch on this! You are such a joy and I truly admire all of your lovely work!

I hope this is ok, @tiroma-art !

Made for the Ulquihime Valentine's Day exchange!

_______________________________

The grey sky stretched far beyond the scope that any eye could see. It was neutral. Cold. There wasn't a single expression radiating from the heart of whatever "earth" this was - there were no bolts of raging, angry thunder. No rays of joyful sunshine dancing in the breeze. No tears of raindrops fell from the heavens, and by looking at the bleak expanse, one may concur that the idea of "heavens" were but a myth. All that hung in this dismal sky was the ever-crescent moon, too apathetic to even fully eclipse.

Two bodies sat in the cool desert sand below. There wasn't much else do to here, even if they'd willed themselves to. No sun would bathe their pallid skin. No plants would spring forth with life. Everything but two beating hearts was essentially dead, save for the chill that fell with the hour.

The young woman didn't mind it all that much.

She fluttered her violet eyes open, surveying the ground and finding it to be the exact same as she'd last seen it just before she'd surrendered her boredom into slumber. The man beside her stirred, ghosting his white hand over her waist.

"Is something wrong, my dear?"

She sat up groggily, brushing her strawberry locks away from her face. She glanced into the distance as if to analyze something on the endless horizon. Ulquiorra followed her gaze, but found absolutely nothing.

It was then did the most vitality that Hueco Mundo had ever seen dance across her face in the shape of a grin from ear to ear.

"Oh not at all," she began, cupping the man's hand and bringing it to her lips and bestowing it with a kiss. "Today's Valentine's Day."

The man looked perplexed, his brow arching and his emerald eyes narrowing as if to analyze. "Valentine's Day?"

Right.

It was times such as these when the young woman would be reminded of just how distant her lover was from everything she'd known. It became painfully evident that there was a chasm between them, the feeble bridge mending it being only their strong love for one another. Even so, that seemed to exist on a plane that was far above things like candy, holidays and worldly pleasures. Their love was primal, conceptual and fiercely driven - and while the young woman was never unsatisfied with how the love itself came to consummation, it was never quite the same as she'd been told that "love" should be.The closest encounter she'd ever had with him to a stroll in the park was foraging for hollow meat in the desert, and the only present she'd ever received was a luminescent grey shell plucked from the sand, and if one squinted enough, it would have been "beautiful". Nonetheless, such a precious gemstone lived tucked away in her bedside table in the world of the living - beautiful or not, it had listened to her nightly prayers to be once more in the arms of its giver.

"... What is 'Valentine's Day'? Some kind of human tradition, I assume?"

"Yeah, we always hand out chocolate and cards, and you know, celebrate romance."

The man looked down at his feet. For a moment, it almost seemed as if he were sad that he was unable to familiarize. "You all are so interesting."

"Actually," she said, reaching into the large duffel bag by her side. "I brought us a souvenir to celebrate."

The man leaned his gaze into her. A string in his heart seemed to have pulled - it was times like these he wished that he didn't exist in such a manner of just that: existence. This woman brought him a form of life that he so vitally needed - and only she could give it.

She pulled forth a heart-shaped box, the pink foil around it so potent that even the sand surrounding it would instantly come alive to reflect its fluorescent color. She opened the box, revealing fourteen confectionary chocolates.

"Are those...?"

"Chocolates."

"Cho-co-lates."

Ulquiorra sounded out the word as if he were a hapless child learning a new word.

"Oh, right," Orihime said wistfully. "You've probably never even had them before..."

Ulquiorra sighed. "I didn't have a lot of time to sample foods from the world of the living when I visited."

"Then perhaps that's a good reason to visit me there, isn't it?"

His mind turned a gear. "Perhaps."

Orihime exposed the underside of the lid, showing her raven-haired lover the various circles etched inside of it. "This is a map that shows are what all these are. You can't really see the filling inside so you never know what you're going to wind up with unless you have the map. I know you don't know much about food and all, but I really recommend this one!"

She pointed at an elongated circle near the center, patiently letting her lover cognitively trace its origin to what looked like a Roman Nougat. "A Roman Nougat?"

"That's right," she said, feeling her heart swell at just hearing familiar words like 'Roman Nougat' escape his lips. "It's dark chocolate with this really smooth cherry flavoring in it."

As if to give him the green light, she popped a molasses caramel into her own mouth.

"This one's a different one than the Roman Nougat, but it's just as good!"

Ulquiorra watched the rose tint blossom onto her cheeks. Her lips, albeit stuffed with chocolate curled into a smile. How did humans derive so much pleasure from something simple as eating?

He couldn't comprehend it. And until Orihime Inoue, he never had the desire to But if anything had the capacity to elicit such emotion from the woman - the grin on her face, the hum of bliss from her mouth - he felt immediately compelled to immerse himself in it until he knew every inch of such a thing.

Cautiously, Ulquiorra plucked the candy from the box. He gave another glance up to the woman, whose smile reaffirmed him. What didn't he have to trust, anyway?

He popped the candy into his mouth, soon fluttering his eyes shut as a quiet moan escaped his lips. The flavor was both intense and subtle at the same time. The overwhelming sweetness and the bitter, dark coating harmonized together in a way that he had never experienced.

"You're certainly right,... This is far better than even the best cuisine at Las Noches."

Orihime giggled. "Well, that's partially because Las Noches food is nasty!"

Ulquiorra nodded, grateful to not be seating himself to another dried out, hollow-fried slab of steak. "I can't exactly argue with that."

"Here, have another." she prodded, pushing the box toward him.

"I may not know much about chocolate, but I do know about basic chemistry. There's a lot of sugar in this - don't you humans get ill from indulging in sugars too much?"

Orihime shrugged. "It's Valentine's Day. I think my stomach can make a bit of an exception for the occasion."

And Ulquiorra smiled, taking what was labeled a "white chocolate truffle", whatever that was.

An "occasion" it certainly was. They sat for a moment in silence, and about three chocolates in, all of Hueco Mundo already seemed to be brighter, set aglow by some invisible sun. Ulquiorra had never seen anything like it, save for the rarest of instances that the woman was present. The moon no longer hung in its overwhelming dominance, but became docile. It serenaded the trees as they swayed together in the breeze, as if they were inspired by the lovers in the sand to craft their own waltz. Ulquiorra placed an arm around Orihime's shoulders, grateful that his world had sprung forth with the sweetest taste of life he'd ever seen.

"I wish that your visits were much more frequent," he began with a heavy sigh. "I wish you never had to return back to the world of the living."

Orihime opened her mouth, but paused, heaving a sigh instead. It wasn't that she was opposed to being here. Much unlike a previous (and very uncanny) circumstance, Orihime herself had opted to return here. No, she had begged. Ichigo thought she was insane. Uryu was very concerned. Tatsuki nearly forbade her. But once she had found out from Urahara that Ulquiorra had been spared, she just about dropped to her knees and groveled for him to allow her to see him, if even only once more. The shopkeeper's mercies were piquied - Orihime bore witness to part of his heart she had never been aware of, and then the stubborn woman had earned herself a voluntary week in Hueco Mundo.

"I wish you could come back with me, Ulquiorra," she said quietly, staring out into the dismal abyss of a desert. "There are so many things there, like chocolate. Like sunshine. Like walks in the park. Like roses, animals, flowers - everything you'd never dream to be possible in a place like this."

Ulquiorra remained silent. Orihime drew a deep breath.

"I don't mean this to be manipulative or anything, so please don't think that about what I'm about to ask, alright?"

"Of course." Realizing his half-truth, he peered at his shoes. What was one to think of a question when given a pretense like that?

"If you came back with me to the world of the living, and you stayed, we... we could be together forever. We could eat chocolate every Valentine's Day. Or Christmas. Or any other day that we feel the need to celebrate."

She drew another breath. Her tone had escalated and her heart raced - it wasn't until she'd voiced these things that she realized just how vitally she would need them. She didn't care how large of a commitment was brewing from her words. It was a risk she'd be well willing to take. She'd already risked everything to come here.

"You could live with me. I could show you Karakura. I could show you what lovers do in my world...."

The man shattered like ice on a pavement, cracking as if he'd been hit by the first piercing rays of the springtime sun.

"Ulquiorra," she said, blockading his hand from reaching for yet another chocolate. His eyes met hers and there they sat, together in an expectant silence. "If you come back with me, I will spend the rest of my life with you, and I will show you every wonder my world has to bless you with."

She watched his green eyes dart to and fro, balancing their gaze between the two of hers. She trembled as she waited for his cognition to read, prayed that he would sense the overwhelming necessity radiating through her intentions. His gaze wasn't blank - neither was his mind. His heart was racing. His hands were moistened. His mouth went dry.

What was he experiencing?

He peered around the bleakness. The dull sky stretched as far as could be fathomed, and the white sand crumbled beneath him. A glimmer of light was before his eyes - and it wasn't from the moon. Every cell in his body demanded to be bathed in such a light.

He took the hand that offered, cupped it and drew it to his lips.

"If it means forever with you, my dear woman, then I will follow you wherever you will lead me."

[biscuitreviews]

Biscuit Reviews Kingdom Hearts III

Kingdom Hearts III, a title that many fans have been waiting to get their hands on for 13 years. Granted, it’s been 7 years since an installment into the series, but it’s been this one that fans have really been waiting for.  Now that it’s here, many fans are combing through every inch of the game to find how the Dark Seeker saga will come to a close. Now, when it came to reviewing the other games in the Kingdom Hearts series, I tried to avoid spoilers best I could, sometimes it was unavoidable and other times it was. For the purposes of Kingdom Hearts III, I’m going to go into full spoilers. I’m going to spoil the previous games, I’m going to spoil this one and yes, I will also be talking about the ending as well.

“But Biscuit, how can I avoid the spoilers from your review?” I hear you asking. Well it’s easy. Normally I would have a “Keep Reading” link shortly after the intro of review, but this go around I’m going to put it right before I get to the spoilers so you can go through your feed or the tag if you just want my thoughts on game itself as well have a brief description of the plot. I’ll throw in another reminder for when spoilers are coming.

Score wise is going to be different as well as I’m going to be displaying my score for the game before I get into the spoilers. I do want to mention that said spoilers do have an impact on the score so if you’re wondering why the game is scored as is, you’ll find more details in the spoiler section of the review.

The game begins right where Dream Drop Distance left off, with Sora going to Olympus Coliseum to not only continue his training to obtain the “Power of Waking” to save Terra, Aqua, and Ventus, as well as stop Xehanort from starting plunging the universe into darkness. This opens up with not Kingdom Hearts III, but rather “Kingdom Hearts 2.9” because I guess Square had to get one last joke in on how long fans had to wait until Kingdom Hearts III proper.

Many of the Disney worlds you’ll travel too actually revolve around the CGI Disney movies and Pixar movies. You’ll travel to worlds featuring: Toy Story, Tangled, Frozen, Monsters Inc., and Big Hero 6. Returning worlds include the previously mentioned Olympus Coliseum, Twilight Town, and Pirates of the Caribbean.

As far as the art style goes, I’ve been vocal on not being the biggest fan with it. I’m still not. Although it complimented the majority of Disney worlds, it still clashes with the Caribbean, but it’s not as jarring as it was in Kingdom Hearts II, it’s still obvious and bad though with a clearly anime looking Sora interacting with realistic people. But, what is perhaps the most jarring of them all is the Olympus Coliseum. Hercules was not meant to be a CGI-esque model and it shows. With the art style of the previous game and the movie proper. The look of Hercules was able to compliment everything to keep a cartoonish look. Now, everything just looks like oddly shaped, realistic blobs.

Like all previous entries in the series, each of these Disney worlds has its own story and problems that Sora will help solve. Some are an abridged version of their respective Disney films, or a new original story within that world. I found that I had preference of the worlds that had their own story, this included: Toy Story, which took place between the events of Toy Story 2 and 3; Monsters Inc., which took place after the first film; Big Hero 6 which takes place after the movie and actually has Sora help Hiro deal with something that occured at the end of the film, something that I hope does become canon if the Big Hero 6 sequel does go into production; Olympus Coliseum to some extent retold the ending of Hercules, but there was enough events altered to where it could have been its own story; finally, Pirates of the Caribbean, although the events of the world take place during “At World’s End” Sora is not actually present for the majority of those events, in fact he’s mostly fighting a member of Organization XIII as the events of the movie play out away from Sora.

Other worlds, such as Tangled and Frozen, told abridged versions of their films. I found that both these worlds did good retellings as both incorporated elements of the main Kingdom Hearts story to keep it interesting. My only complaint is the Tangled world, Sora actually doesn’t contribute to the films events. He’s just simply in the background watching the events be played out. Nothing he does changes anything, unlike the Frozen world where Sora’s presence does cause an alteration in the films events.

The world design was a bit of a mixed bag. You had some worlds that truly felt like a a big world, Toy Story, Big Hero 6, and Pirates of the Caribbean are prime examples of this. Then, you had the rest of the worlds which were nothing but a giant hallway with Disney decorations. It was a bit disappointing that Square took that direction when they could have done so much more.

So what about the combat, the gameplay of Kingdom Hearts III. Like the other numbered entries, it’s great. We got a taste of it in Kingdom Hearts 0.2 and I really loved the little bits that was shown in that game, regular attacks, special attacks, grand magic, it’s all in Kingdom Hearts III and it still feels really great to just fly around in the air or glide around the battlefield hitting things with your Keyblade.

Some Heartless enemies now have elemental weaknesses that can hinder them in battle giving a little layer of strategy in your fights, but not very much, that’s the only thing you’re going to really be keeping in mind when you fight.

There’s also a new summoning ability known as “Attraction Flow Summon” where you can summon a Disney World inspired ride to do some serious damage. Some are better than others, but overall I actually liked them. Regular summons are also available in the game and their fine for the most part, but you won’t really find much of a use for them like in Kingdom Hearts II, it’s just an ability that’s there. One of my favorite new additions is how drive forms are handled. It’s not Sora that changes, but rather his Keyblade as it takes a form of a different weapon that has additional properties that can unleash devastating finishing moves after filling up the hit meter.

The Gummi ship also makes a return and this is perhaps my favorite approach to the Gummi ship. It made the worlds feel like their own planet and the Universe more expansive driving you to explore space as you fly through it shooting Heartless and collecting prizes. Approaching a world feels amazing as you approach a giant place that feels like you’re about to step on another unique planet.

Now, there’s something that Kingdom Hearts has always been known for, the secret bosses. These bosses always challenged your knowledge of spells, game mechanics, and reaction speed. In the case of Kingdom Hearts III, there’s only one secret boss, Dark Inferno, and it’s not hard. In fact, you don’t even have to be max level with the Ultima Weapon to even stand somewhat of a chance to face this boss. I was level 55 when I faced this boss and although I did die a few times it wasn’t because of lack of level, but rather reacting to an attack at the wrong moment. There’s no unique difficult Heartless, no Sephiroth battle, no extra Final Fantasy character battles, no Data battles, no extra Disney villain fights, no extra boss to tease the future of the series, nothing and it feels really lacking compared to previous entries. Granted the original vanilla versions of Kingdom Hearts I and II, didn’t have that many extra boss fights, they still had a few challenge bosses for those that wanted to prove themselves.

That’s not to say there isn’t plenty of side content, there is, it’s just the extra combat side content is severely lacking in terms of challenge and variety and that was one of my favorite side activities in Kingdom Hearts was attempting them. Again, if you haven’t finished the game and don’t want story spoilers. My score is this:

Kingdom Hearts III receives a 2 out of 5

Keep in mind that the story did have an impact on my final score so click on the “Keep Reading” link for the story discussion to see what else contributed to the score.

I hated the story.

There were some great touching moments, but overall I did not like how many of the events played out. The first issue I had was Vexen. He did something that many people will see as a break in character. He’s always been a seeker of knowledge and has been willing to gain it no matter the cost. However, we see that suddenly, we wants to atone for his actions when the story approaches it’s climax. Granted it does get explained why the sudden shift happens in a Secret Report, which you won’t be able to get until you beat the game, it’s still a jarring shift. One that could have easily been dispelled if we saw a scene of Vexen going through that change.

Then we have the Black Box that Maleficent and Pete are looking for for the entire game. Sora and the gang know that Maleficent is trying to do this, and knowing that she’s looking for an item that could potentially grant her power. So what does Sora do? He just ignores them the entire game. What’s in the box? Who knows, the game didn’t bother telling us, it only used the Black Box to tease the future of the series.

Next is the fight with Aqua, or Anti-Aqua if you will. This was perhaps an emotionally charged fight for me. The scene preceding the fight and the fight itself was perhaps the most emotionally charged moment in the entire game. You have Sora, who wants nothing but to save Aqua from her despair and depression. As you’re fighting Aqua, you hear her whisper during the fight. “I wandered the shadows endlessly, no one ever came.” “I waited for so long.” “You shouldn’t have abandoned me.”

Although this may have just been a cool fight with emotions on high, there is a deeper meaning to this fight, rather it be intentional or not and that is how this can be an allegory of battling depression and abandonment. When depressed, we might often stew in our self created darkness, possible blaming circumstances or people for putting us on this state. Sora, Riku and Mickey in this case, represent the light to help you out of that depression as they have ventured in that darkness to help get you out of it. As for the abandonment, again Sora, Riku, and Mickey, showing that she was not abandoned, as they were looking for a way to help her the entire time.  Again, I’m not sure if this was intentional on Nomura’s part, but it does give the fight a more impactful meaning outside of the core story.

Another enjoyable moment was a scene that I’m sure many people, including myself have been waiting on for years and that Sora and Kairi having their moment. Before the final battle, they exchange some heartfelt words and do something that has been teased since Kingdom Hearts I, share a paopu fruit. This small scene has been building up for years and to finally have this moment delivered did make the wait worth it.

Next, is the concept of death. Kingdom Hearts has always been a series that has been a bit of an enigma when it came to death. That’s not say death has happened in the series, for it has, see Master Eraqus in Birth by Sleep and Strelitzia in Kingdom Hearts Union X. The series established that just because someone loses their heart, doesn’t mean that they themselves die, rather a piece of themselves is lost until it’s found again. Kingdom Hearts takes the concept of death and basically just burns the book, throw it out the window and take away any impact it could have had to the overall story.

That’s right, I’m talking about Kairi’s “death”.

Before we get into that, I want to talk about the Final World. This world, is essentially the afterlife. Keyblade wielders find themselves here if their heart and body have been destroyed in a state that they cannot return. However, Sora was able to break out of the afterlife because of Kairi’s power, which in turn allowed him to use the Power of Waking to revive his friends who also died for them to continue their fight with Xehanort.

When Xehanort struck Kairi down to where she was completely obliterated, this not only shocked me that Nomura was willing to do this to one of the core three, but also how it impacted Sora. He wanted nothing more but to defeat Xehanort and to avenge Kairi. This could have been a powerful moment that stayed rooted in the final entry of the Dark Seeker saga. However, after defeating Xehanort, Sora begins a new journey, to save Kairi.

Because of the connection Sora and Kairi share, Sora believes he can use the Power of Waking to bring Kairi back, however it comes at the cost of Sora himself. Everyone even warns Sora that he’s abusing the power and will disappear if he brings Kairi back. This would make sense as Kairi’s Heart and Body have been obliterated to a state that she cannot return. But hey, Sora discovered he can use the power of waking to go into the afterlife to revive people and you know what, that’s what he does. He goes to the afterlife, revives Kairi and then disappears for abusing the power. Doing this to me ruined the impact this moment could have potentially left for the finale of the Dark Seeker saga.

There is however one more point I would like to discuss with the story before finally closing this review. How the story felt.

I felt it was half baked. I think Nomura wanted to move on to a different idea he had for the series, but he couldn’t as he had to conclude the Dark Seeker Saga first. It’s partly why I feel Kingdom Hearts III is rather empty, because I don’t think Nomura’s heart was in the conclusion. I feel he only did this to finish the story and to give the fans the title they wanted, Kingdom Hearts III. A good portion of Kingdom Hearts III, even sets pieces up for the future of the series, rather than act as a wrap up. Which is fine, if you want a loose thread to have the idea and possibility for a sequel open, but I felt Nomura didn’t give Kingdom Hearts III his all and felt restricted with what he could do, because he couldn’t tell the story he really wanted. Again, I don’t know Nomura, I’m not in the guys head, but to me that’s what it felt like.

As for me, I think this is where my journey will end for the series. I don’t see myself following this series anymore and I’ll probably let the new generation of fans inherit the series. It was fun while it lasted and I’ll most likely continue to play the previous entries of the series, but the future entries, I think I’ll pass.

Thank you all for sharing this journey with me. The core gameplay is enjoyable and although there are some wonky bits, it’s a still a good game for long time fans of the series, just not the grand finale that I’m sure many people were hoping for and expecting. The score was something I was wrestling with for awhile, but at the end of the day, I feel that this is what I would give it.

[astral-space-dragon]

My favorite Halloween films

I talked about my favorite Christmas films and thought I’d share my favorite Halloween films. Now keep in mind that these are in no particular order, just a list of Halloween films that I like. NOTE: I am excluding “Hocus Pocus”, “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, slasher films, and Stephen King films. That’d be too easy.

With that being said, here’s my favorite Halloween films.

1. Trick ‘r Treat

This 2009 film, takes place over the course of Halloween in the fictional town of Warren Valley, Ohio. Its story is told in a nonlinear narrative, with characters crossing paths with each other throughout the film. At the centre of the story is Sam, a peculiar trick-or-treater dressed in pajamas and a burlap sack, who appears to enforce the “rules” of Halloween.

This film was a hit in the box office, but for the few years, no one really talked about it. In recent years, it has gained a cult following and there have been talks of a possible sequel.

This films is perfect for Halloween. It’s riddled with the holiday: fallen leaves, trick-or-treating, jack o’ lanterns, all that good stuff. See it for yourself and join the following.

2. Mad Monster Party

Hey, remember those Christmas specials? Frosty the Snowman? Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? Santa Claus is Coming to Town? Of course you do. Well, the same company (Rankin/Bass Productions) tried their hand at making a special for a different holiday: Halloween and “Mad Monster Party” was that final product. 

Baron Boris von Frankenstein (voiced by Boris Karloff [yes, I mean that]) achieves his ultimate ambition, the secret of total destruction. Having perfected and tested the formula, he sends out messenger bats to summon all monsters to the Isle of Evil in the Caribbean Sea. The Baron intends to inform them of his discovery and also to reveal his imminent retirement as head of the "Worldwide Organization of Monsters". Besides Frankenstein's Monster and the Monster's more intelligent mate who live in the island castle with Boris, the invites also include Count Dracula, the Mummy, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, the Werewolf, The Invisible Man, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

The special did decently at the time of its release but since Rankin/Bass Productions was (and still is) known for their Christmas specials, the film flew under the radar and was pretty much forgotten.

Like “Trick ‘r Treat”, “Mad Monster Party” has gained a cult following in the recent years, but it’s still not talked about as much. Find the film for yourself and see why it should never be forgotten.

3. The Halloween Tree

“The Halloween Tree” is a 1993 Hanna-Barbera film based on the Ray Bradbury novel of the same name. The film tells the story of a group of trick-or-treating children who learn about the origins and influences of Halloween when one of their friends is spirited away by mysterious forces. The film stars Ray Bradbury as the narrator and the late Leonard Nimoy as the children's guide, Mr. Moundshroud.

I remember watching this film every year on Cartoon Network when it aired on the Halloween season (I don’t think they do anymore since it doesn’t fit their TTG agenda....), so it hold a special place in my heart. In the film, the children travel though time and witness ancient traditions that modern day Halloween takes inspiration from. From rituals carried out my Celtic Druids to Dia de los Muertos in Mexico; there’s something for everyone in this film.

4. Frankenweeinie (1984)

When I say “Frankenweenie”, I’m not talking about the 2012 stop-motion remake, I’m talking about the original 1984 film that got Tim Burton fired from Disney (yes, you read that right).

If you’ve seen the 2012 remake, then you already know the story. For those who don’t, allow me to give you a synopsis: The film is both a parody and homage to the 1931 film Frankenstein based on Mary Shelley's novel of the same name. The story goes as is: A young boy sets out to revive his dead pet using the power of science. It’s such a simple concept, a boy and his dog. But that concept, really never gets old. While I love the 2012 remake, I grew up watching this version and, call it a bias, I prefer this version.

5. Creature from the Black Lagoon

This 1954 monster flick is considered a landmark. It’s the film that inspired Guillermo Del Toro to make “The Shape of Water” (it’s true, I shit you not). It’s “The Creature from the Black Lagoon”. While this is not a film I grew up watching, I have fond memories of watching it in my honors biology class in high school. Yes, the film is cheesy as fuck and it at times leaves much to be desired. But, past all of that is a relic of the past and a film that helped paved the way for monster movies (and made monster fuckers dream come true).

So what’s the film about? A geology expedition in the Amazon uncovers fossilized evidence from the Devonian period that provides a direct link between land and sea animals. What follows is a return expedition to the Amazon to look for the remainder of the skeleton.

6. Freaks

Easily one of my favorite films. I could watch this anytime of the year. It’s an incredible film. The best part, the freaks in the films: all real. No make-up or special effects. You had Johnny Eck, Schlitzie, dwarf siblings Harry and Daisy Earles, and conjoined sisters  Daisy and Violet Hilton are just a few of the freaks that starred in this movie.

The film is about trapeze artist Cleopatra who learns that circus dwarf Hans has an inheritance, she marries the lovesick, diminutive performer, all the while planning to steal his fortune and run off with her lover, strong man Hercules. When Hans' friends and fellow performers discover what is going on, they band together and carry out a brutal revenge that leaves Hercules and Cleopatra knowing what it truly means to be a "freak."

“Freaks” is easily one of my favorite films of all time. I’ve always had a fascination with sideshow, freakshows and such; and to have this relic of the past is really something special.

7. The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad

While this film has two short stories, the one I want to focus on is “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”. This segment scared the piss out of me as a kid and I LOVED IT. The second segment is based on "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving and it follows Ichabod Crane, a lanky, gluttonous, superstitious yet charming dandy arrives in Sleepy Hollow, New York to be the town's new schoolmaster.

I don’t want to give too much away but I assure you this segment is so much fun to watch. Both Ichabod’s and Mr. Toad’s segments are a lot of fun to watch. If you want to check it out for yourself, I highly recommend you do (research the production history as well, really interesting stuff).

8. Beetlejuice

You all know this film. Tim Burton. Michael Keaton. Young Winona Ryder. Danny Elfman. Geena Davis. The Banana Boat Song. What else is there to say?

9. Onibaba

I’ve only discovered this film this past year is it’s easily on my top 3 list. You may not know this, but I’m a huge sucker for Japanese folklore (thank my Japanese roots for that) and when I discover Onibaba, I already knew this film was up my alley. 

I don’t want to give anything away about this because I want you to go into this film blind like I did. Let me just say this: the two women in this film are badass.

10. Kakurenbo

This.... this is film that made every second count. “Kakurenbo” is only 25 minutes long and they made every second and every frame count. You may be thinking “That’s way to short to tell a full-fledged story!” The thing with Japanese storytelling is that they make 25 minutes as good as a two hour film and Kakurenbo is no exception.

The film entails a game of "Otokoyo", a version of hide and seek played by children, wearing fox masks, near the ruins of an abandoned old Kowloon-inspired city but there is a twist: children who play disappear, never to be seen again.

I first saw this film back in 2005 when it played on Cartoon’s Network’s adult-oriented nighttime programming, Adult Swim. 10 year old me was completely engrossed by this film. The story, the designs of the demons, everything about the film stuck to me. I recently got the my hands on the DVD (thanks mom) and I’m elated that I can enjoy “Kakurenbo” on any given day and not have to scour Youtube for a “decent” version.

I know I’ve said this throughout this list, but I STRONGLY urge all of you to check out “Kakurenbo” when you get the chance. You will not be disappointed.

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/9/2018: HELLRAISER III - HELL ON EARTH

This is one of those movies that I really want to like, because it maintains this glow among some horror nerds, and I want to be able to enjoy Christmas and birthdays just like the secular kids, but as of 2018, I am still uncompelled by the (minor, culty) hype. Maybe it’s because HELLRAISER is such a great movie, and also because I have such deeply personal feelings about HELLBOUND: HELLRAISER II; maybe it’s because I just don’t find the boringly beautiful Terry Farrell any more charming here than I did on Deep Space 9; maybe it’s because I just don’t have a good enough sense of humor to fully embrace the CD Cenobite, even though I would normally run-not-walk to see anything one might reasonably say is among the most ridiculous things ever filmed. I guess I’m just here to say that, yes, HELLRAISER III exists, and I’m not sorry I’ve seen it, but I still haven’t developed that urgent need to see it again.

Anthony Hickox, director of WAXWORK and WAXWORK II and WARLOCK: ARMAGEDDON (the latter of which I would surely rather be watching than *almost* anything else I’ll have mentioned here), took up the directorial reigns from Tony Randel of HELLBOUND fame; the latter was apparently replaced due to producers’ fears that his vision for HELL ON EARTH was too bleak. The more I read about this movie, the more I came to resent it for what it was not. I would definitely have had a use for Randel’s hella bleak HELLRAISER III. I would also have been first in line to see a movie totally focused on Julia, Clare Higgins’ often-skinless villainess from HELLRAISER II, though she apparently turned it down just to break my heart. And not to say that I think movie franchises like this should never change or evolve, but I could also have stood for some QT with my favorite old cenobites, and even the perennially mascara-smeared Ashley Laurence in more than a grainy cameo. What I got instead was a movie made at a breakneck speed, with actors working up to 17 hours a day and having no real sense of what the finished product was supposed to be like, slathered in a decent amount of gore but tainted by some awkward early CG effects, and garnished with some pretty Freudian daddy issues material that I actually would have welcomed if it were accompanied by any kind of chemistry between the leads.

So what actually happens in the movie? Scummy club owner JP Monroe acquires a raunchy statue in which both Pinhead and the lament configuration are trapped. He discovers the real value of this artifact when Pinhead slurps up one of JP’s dates, sending him on the familiar quest to bring the demon more victims in exchange for...some abstract concept about pleasure. As cenobitic activity ramps up around town, struggling reporter Joey takes note, and she teams up with homeless goth chick Terri-within-an-”i” to try to turn this into her first big scoop. Joey’s mission is complicated, not so much by the physical dangers ahead, than by this thing where her reoccurring nightmares about her father dying in Vietnam begin to blend with present day ethereal encounters with WWI Captain Elliot Spencer, Pinhead’s discarded human form. Spencer explains that without him, Pinhead is pure evil (I guess he wasn’t in the first two movies), which Pinhead simultaneously proves by rampaging across Manhattan turning douchebags into cenobites willy-nilly. It will be up to Joey to figure out how to unlock the infamous box and send Pinhead home before he creates a hell on earth.

If I’m being perfectly honest, I love seeing Doug Bradley with the pins off. As with Robert Englund, he transitions easily from being one of cinema’s most seductively pervy bad guys, to a naturally charming and somewhat paternal oddball, which is very rewarding for those lonely dorks among us who grew up favoring ‘80s movie monsters over GI Joes or My Little Ponys. This ought to make it shamefully exciting to see Captain Spencer try to fill the daddy-shaped hole in Joey’s heart, but statuesque Terry Farrell is far too womanly to be swishing around the astral plane in a nighty with a cartoonishly humongous bow on the back, literally screaming the word “daddy” into the void.  However, the problem with this bit isn’t only that the comparatively queenly Ms. Farrell doesn’t exactly fill the nymphety little shoes of Ashley Laurence from the previous two movies. The metaphor is confused, too; what does war have to do with the existing thematic material of HELLRAISER? We get some kind of spiel about how Elliot Spencer’s dehumanizing military experience drove him to seek out the ambiguous pleasures of the cenobites, but that doesn’t justify the arbitrary conflation of Joey’s father’s ‘Nam experience with Pinhead’s WWI origins. At that, it’s a little weird, after two borderline pornographic movies full of people being skinned alive and turned into raisins and so forth, to suddenly suggest that Pinhead wasn’t all the way evil before. It is only now that Spencer’s soul is drifting around on its lonesome that we’re meant to really worry about Pinhead, who is meanwhile charging around in Manhattan fucking shit up with the aim of world domination, or something.

The main contribution of HELL ON EARTH is the new cenobites that Pinhead creates along the way, and while you wouldn’t call them “good”, they are at least...something! The most Clive Barker-y concept in the movie is that punky street urchin Terri is unable to dream, which makes her seem like prime cenobite material, somehow. Curiously though, she is reduced to a demonic chainsmoker, who mumbles something about having dreams while doing nothing much besides burning Joey with cigarettes. HELLRAISER III may totally lack inspiration, but that sure doesn’t keep the movie down; It also offers us a sex addict cenobite with thrusting pistons in his head that I guess symbolize “doing it”, a molotov cocktail-hurling bartender cenobite who gets wrapped in bar-bed wire (and is formally referred to as the “Barbie cenobite”), and a cameraman cenobite who...well, I don’t think I could possibly top the fandom wiki on this matter: “Whatever he films can explode using his mind. Also, the camera in his head has a hydraulic device that allows it to impale people.” If you’ve actually seen this movie, you may be wondering why I’d leave out the infamous CD cenobite, a club DJ who gains the ability to kill people with CDs that pop out of his head. I didn’t mean to. I just think it’s worth saying, all on its own, that there is a CD cenobite who kills people with CDs that pop out of his head. You won’t get to see the more iconic female cenobite, not Chatterbox nor Butterball. In fact the whole concept of torturing damned souls has pretty much gone out the window; in a climactic scene, Joey cowers in the middle of the street while the new cenobites menace her with cigarettes and lead pipes like some leftover gang from THE WARRIORS. It’s weird. HELLRAISER III is a weird movie. I’m not totally sure what it’s getting at, but as I mentioned at the very beginning: it sure does exist.

[masked-fox-creations]

Top 10 TV Show List

Tagged by @rum-and-shattered-dreams, thanks!

This is a very tough decision and I am very bad at choosing favorites, but here goes in no particular order:

Courage the Cowardly Dog really shaped me in my formative years. It’s funny, dark, macabre, and some great character/setting designs. It’s inspirational and there are plenty of moments that to this day still creep me the fuck out.

I used this gif specifically because I love both TOS and DS9. I mean all Trek has my heart, but these two especially. I’ve watched so much Trek in my life. So much. Dragged friends into the Trek hole. At its core is hope, and that speaks to me. Also cool aliens.

Alright Ed, Edd, and Eddy is really specially because I wrote my very first piece of fan fiction for it. It was self insert where I was accepted into the trio’s close friend group. Also it’s got a great, unique style to it and probably started my appreciation for the lovable asshole characters.

Rick and Morty. This show is a lot of fun, but also with surprising depth. And then a character named Mr. Poopybutthole.

It’s just a great show. Mystery, intrigue, fun characters, monsters, and Waddles. Gravity Falls is Fantastic. 

I’m so surprised and delighted to find this site has Big Wolf on Campus gifs. This show really means a lot. Not to get too heavy but it was one of my big comforts during a really bad period. Also, quite frankly it helped me realize in retrospect I’m queer as fuck and gave me an OT3 whose hill I’ll die on.

Fuck Bojack Horseman is a heavy show and I adore it. I’d say we really don’t have anything else quite like it. It’s especially unique because we get to see from all the characters’ views and feel just a bit of sympathy or empathy for each, whereas most other shows wouldn’t allow us to do that for all the characters. Also this show can go out of the box and push what an animated show can be, especially like with that underwater episode where there was no dialogue (except at the very very end).

Please give me a bluray remastered set with specials and extras please I’m begging you Disney. It made a generation of monster-philes slash scalies. 

The X-Files is another show I watched so much as a kid, then I did an in depth depression rewatch when I hit my twenties. Mulder’s obsession just clicked with me. The mysteries intrigued me, the characters compelled me, the constant danger and unanswered questions gripped me. The later seasons disappointed me. The revival interested me but ultimately while still good it lacked a little something of its original magic. I still believe in the Scully is Immortal theory (look it up, it makes sense!). Also Scully/Mulder/Skinner is an under appreciated OT3.

I used this gif because there’s none specific for Guy’s Grocery Games, and also it’s amazing holy shit look at it. Beautiful. Majestic. Anyway, I’ve heavily gotten into this show and just adore it. It’s fun, Guy Fieri is a treasure, and it has encouraged me to cook more. A very good cooking show.

Alright, that’s my 10. With no obligation I’ll be tagging: @scarscarchurro, @welcome-to-helliot, @arichu, @lynsleigh, @prince-kenni, @celestialwavelenght, @david-browie

[bestoffersdeals]

5 Useful Gifts to Give Your Bae This Valentine

There is absolutely no question that the special person in your life deserves nothing but only the best. That is the reason whenever Valentine's day comes around, you don't want to keep any stop unpulled, do you? While you can always pick the classic and traditional flower delivery with a box of heart shaped chocolates, why not give them something more meaningful and sustainable than just going fancy this year. Flowers and chocolates are fine but if you want to send out the message that you are a boyfriend or a girlfriend who cares, give them something that they can use on a daily basis and whenever they put it on, they remember you and remember how useful this thing is for them.

Keep it romantic but also incredibly useful. That's why this list, which has top 5 picks for your hard-to-shop-for bae is packed with unique Valentine's Day gift ideas that will make them feel the love On 14th February and beyond. 

Give her something that she will wrap around her body and feel how your assuring hands feel around her shoulder. Give him something that will make other girls turn around which will make him understand that you are not the jealous type! 

No matter what you pick, make sure that with these gifts, you put your heart on the display. Also we understand that it is a holiday season and you must have been spending a lot so this list is a specially picked one where you get cheap deals but exclusive items in breathtakingly less prize money. Classy stuff without burning a hole in your pocket will always earn you brownie points. 

HIFLYERS MENS DARK AIRFORCE SLIM FIT PRINTED ROUND NECK SWEATSHIRT - 

Give the man of your dreams something that will make him feel the coziness and the warmth that he feels around you, even at times when you are not around. This slim fit printed round neck sweatshirt from TT Bazar is an ideal gift option for your man this winter season. And what's more it comes with a whopping 40% off on MRP and is priced at only Rs. 479/- instead of 799/-. It is suitable as a winter wear, and will keep them warm and will fall soft on their skin.

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HIFLYERS WOMEN GREEN REGULAR FIT PRINTED ROUND NECK SWEATSHIRT -

Make her feel like the queen of the world with this HIGHFLYERS WOMEN GREEN REGULAR FIT PRINTED ROUND NECK SWEATSHIRT for her. Designed in a beautiful turquoise blue color with royal blue print written "Queen".it was definitely going to pamper your loved one, while making a fashion statement as well. This is premium soft fleece knit and has the classic hooded construction which makes this a perfect pic for every season. Just ask her to style it with her favourite pair of jeans and she is going to set your heart on fire for sure.  

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HIFLYERS WOMEN BLACK REGULAR FIT PRINTED ROUND NECK SWEATSHIRT

This 65% polyester and 35% cotton regular fit, full sleeve sweatshirt with rib-knit collar, cuff and hem, round neck with "Good Vibes" written all over the bust, it is the gift that you can give your girl which she can casually where in her house, relaxing while video calling you or on Sunday brunch with you along with jeans and jacket. It'll only bring good memories for you, that's for sure! 

This is suitable for winter wear because it keeps her warm and feels very soft on skin as well.  

Get it for Rs. 461.00 instead of its original price Rs. 769.00

Here it is offered for Women = SWEATSHIRT

HIFLYERS FULL SLEEVE PRINTED MEN SWEATSHIRT - BLACK

Relationship does not only mean that they will be funny and happy days but it also means that they will be rough and bad days with both of you will have to handle. Be a girl who supports her man in whatever situations he is stuck and provides him with inspiration and warmth. This printed sweatshirt, saying loud and clear message, Never Give Up is just what the Love Doctor has prescribed!

Get it for only 599 instead of the MRP which is 999 and that is a whopping 40% off. 

Here it is Offered for MEN  =  SWEATSHIRT

T.T. MEN HOTPOT ELITE TOP THERMAL ANTHRA - WHITE (PACK OF 2)

Don't want your man to wear layers and layers of jackets on Valentine's Day? Then why not give him a set of thermals which he can wear inside whatever he chooses to don on that special day and that will definitely spike up the hotness factor for him!

The brand Hotpot Elite is a unique range of Thermals from the house of T.T. The special  Cotton Polyfill Sandwich technology offers a special body-heat and makes it warmer. 

Avail it for only 562/- instead of its original price 936/-

Here it is Offered for MEN =  THERMAL

So don't wait and grab them now before the deals expire!