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Early mornings are chilly in Los Romero, a village high up in the mountains of western Guatemala. As in other predominantly Mam villages – Indigenous Maya people who have lived here since pre-Columbian times – households come quietly to life before dawn. Isabel Romero, a grandmother with long black hair, used to feel somewhat trapped in hers.
“I was afraid of speaking because I was cooped up at home. I didn’t go out,” she says, explaining that like many Mam women, her days were dedicated to the hard work of running a household with little money, and she rarely spoke with other women. “I worried a lot and had headaches.”
Residents of Los Romero live mainly from subsistence farming, growing maize, beans and squash, or grazing livestock. Almost 50% of the population is Indigenous in Guatemala, Central America’s biggest economy, but they do not share in its prosperity. Indigenous women in particular are discriminated against and dispossessed, with a life expectancy 13 years lower, and a maternal mortality rate two times higher, than the national average, according to the World Bank.
In Romero’s village and throughout the region, a community-based collective of women’s circles has been quietly improving Indigenous women’s lives, empowering them to find voices that have been suppressed through centuries of marginalisation.
It was a long process, but Romero’s headaches and fear are now a thing of the past. These days she gets out to workshops, meetings and women’s circles. She shares her knowledge of weaving traditional textiles on a backstrap loom and has a leadership role in the women’s group she co- founded: Buena Semilla (Good Seed).
The initiative emerged from Maya Mam women’s experiences, when French physician Anne Marie Chomat brought them together for interviews for her doctoral fieldwork in 2010- 2012. The simple act of gathering with others and sharing their experiences had a profound impact on the women, many of whom are still dealing with the traumatic legacy of Guatemala’s civil war.
During the 1960-1996 armed conflict between leftist guerrilla groups and the military, more than 200,000 people were killed, overwhelmingly Indigenous Maya civilians killed by the army. Another 45,000 were ‘disappeared’. A truth commission concluded that the state committed acts of genocide...
“There’s so much chronic stress and other issues that are not being addressed,” says Chomat, Buena Semilla’s international coordinator, who now lives in Canada. “So much healing happened in that space of women connecting with other women, getting out of their houses, realising: ‘I’m not alone’.”
Once Chomat’s fieldwork was finalised, several participants decided they wanted to continue meeting and with Chomat came up with the idea of women’s circles. With the help of a grant, the project got going in 2013 and now more than 300 women in two municipalities participate every week or two in circles, each comprising roughly 10 to 25 women.
Wearing traditional embroidered huipil blouses and hand-loomed skirts, the women gather, arriving on foot via the dirt roads that weave through the villages. They meet in a home or community building, or outside when they can for the connection with nature. The circle opens with a welcome and a prayer and then the group engages in breathing and movement exercises. Next up is discussion of the nahual, the day’s name and energy according to one of the interlocking ancient Mayan calendars, traditionally used for ceremonial practices. “Here in Santiago Atitlán it is only maybe 20% of people who speak about [knowledge of nahuals], so we are reviving it,” says Quiejú.
Then it’s time for the sharing circle. “More than anything, it is speaking what they have in their hearts,” says Quiejú. But every time and each circle is different, even though the leaders all work from the same guide, she says.
Sometimes circles will have a guided meditation. Sometimes they’ll have a workshop to learn weaving, or another skill that can help them earn money. Sometimes they eat together. Sometimes they cry. Often they laugh. No matter what, they generally end with a group embrace...
Only 1% of Guatemala’s national health budget is designated for mental health, and nearly all of that goes to the country’s one psychiatric hospital. Most mental health professionals are concentrated in the capital, offering psychotherapy and prescribing medications. For those in rural areas, there is little discussion of mental health or access to services.
“There is nothing for the preventative side, to work with families, to work with communities,” says Garavito. However, he emphasised that the concept of buen vivir (good living) among many Indigenous peoples in Latin America, which includes the traditional festivities, ceremonies and community of everyday village life, inherently incorporates good mental health. “Mental health is a fundamentally social concept and that has been a historical and common practice among Indigenous peoples, without them calling it that.”
...Financial constraints also pose challenges. Since 2020, Buena Semilla’s budget has been funded through crowdfunding and small grants. Staff and leaders all work part-time and many volunteer unpaid, but most circles now meet bi-weekly due to a squeeze on funds...
[Note: If you'd like to help, you can find out more and support Buena Semilla here, at their website.]
Despite the challenges, interest keeps growing. Elsa Cortez joined a circle earlier this year, motivated by her sister’s positive experience with Buena Semilla. In her mid-20s, she lives with her parents and as well as helping to run the household, she weaves belts, drawing from a basket full of spools of brightly coloured thread. She did not go out much before.
“There was a mentality that women were only supposed to be in the home or should only do certain things. That’s how we were raised,” she says. “My family was like that too.”
Thanks to Buena Semilla, those dynamics have started to shift in some families, including her own, says Cortez. Now she is exploring the idea of starting a circle specifically for girls, to help build their self-worth and self-esteem.
“It used to be difficult for me to socialise or chat, but now I am starting to socialise more easily,” says Cortez. “In the group I feel like it is psychological therapy every time we meet.”
-via Positive.News, December 8, 2023
#guatemala#latin america#indigenous#indigenous women#mental health#indigenous issues#womens empowerment#empowerment#maya#indigenous peoples#good news#hope
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To Have and to Hold
Marc Spector x fem!reader
Masterlist : Moon Knight Masterlist : Marc Spector Masterlist
Read on AO3
Summary: You and Marc just get married and he can't wait to get his dick inside you.
Warnings: Blowjob, butt stuff, anal play, cumming untouched, make-up smearing. I tried my best with some spanish and hebrew.
Immersivity: Reader is fem but no gentitle mentions for reader. Wears make up and a dress but I tried to write thing in a way that would make sense for a wedding in most cultures. Header is just for aesthetics, not mention of skin, dress, any of that. reader had grabable hair (theres a line about getting semi undressed so if you wear veils or hair covers that is you guys taking it off to smash.) Reader wears heavier make up and Marc can pick her up. Marc says the traditional chritian wedding vows (that doesnt mention anything religous) but thats not neccecarily the vows the said at the actual wedding. I know marc is jewish and the reader can be christian or not I knooooooooow
A/n: Jewish Marc <3 I tried to get pics of weddings from different cultures, the bottom one is from Guatemala is pintrest is to be believed! Add this to the list of fics i've written for @whatthefishh
1K Words
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Married. Finally married. Marc Spector was your husband, and absolutely no one was going to take him away from you.
After the ceremony, you and Marc run off to the nearest side room you could find, dodging all your family and friends in order to consummate your marriage right away. Giggling and laughing like children, Marc pulled you by your hand, dress flouncing around and his Kippah secure on his head. All alone finally after days of family surrounding you, the two of you quickly get into just enough state of undress for what you need. His dick in your mouth.
“My beautiful wife…” Marc grunts, thrusting into your mouth and stretching your lips around his considerable length. “My perfect girl…” Your mouth was so wet and warm. So soft around him, accommodating his hardness and beautiful eyes gazing up adoringly through your wet lashes. Marc placed his large, rough hand on your cheek, pulling his cock out just enough to turn and press it into your cheeks. He loved to feel himself inside you.
You, in turn, love feeling him. It didn’t matter if he was stuffing himself inside your cunt, if you were feeling the vein of his cock along your tongue, his finger in your asshole with his sweet lips locked in on your tender flesh, or simply lying together watching TV with your fingers entangled in his deep brown curls. You were his and he was yours, and now it was sealed forever.
Marc’s dick slid down your throat, making you gag a little but Marc knew what you could handle. He didn’t want to hurt you, especially not today of all days, but he also knew what you liked. He also knew how to fix your make up, which you knew he was going to need to do as the tears began to blur in your eyes.
You’re dripping wet, absolutely incomprehensibly turned on by the simple fact you are married, married to the most amazing man in the entire world. Oh, and an amazing ass. That was an aside. A side that your fingernails were digging into right now, anyway. He was built like a fucking PEACH.
Marc murmured, growing breathless. He was so fucking easy to get off with blowjobs, it made you laugh. “I love you so goddamn much…”
You relinquish his right buttcheek, but you don’t leave his cute little booty be. No, your hands stay busy, reaching under him to play with his balls, but that wasn’t their final destination, merely a pitstop to sliding a finger up his butt. One time you did that and he came on the spot, which embarrassed him but you thought incredibly hot.
Marc moans loud enough you swear you were going to get caught. He’s so fucking easy. Marc likes to act like a tough guy, but really he’s just a whimpering mess who likes his butt played with, and you were happy to oblige. When he’s particularly a mess, Marc-y Marc rambles, and today was no exception as you slobber all over his length.
“Perfect fucking wife, ahuvati, can’t believe I actually got you to marry me.” he chuckles a bit in disbelief. “How’d that happen, huh?”
You mumble around his dick. You’re a bit preoccupied to answer.
He laughs again. “Oh, right.” He shakes his head, cradling yours in his hands before sighing contently, balls beginning to draw up. “My wife, my wife, eeshtee, mi esposa… my fucking wife.” Marc thrusts in deep at that, and you know he’s about ready to cum because he’s losing control. What he doesn’t know is under your dress your thighs are rubbing together, as turned on as he was and you haven't even been touched yet. You just needed him to keep talking… Luckily, Marc always knew what you needed. Marc was strangely much more talkative during sex than he was outside of it.
“To have and to hold, from this day forward.” Wet thrust into your drooling mouth, mascara running down your cheeks and neck.
“For better or for worse.” Fuck, you were getting as close as he was, the heavy smell of sex heating up the small room. Everything felt erotic and warm, your dress suddenly getting sweaty.
“For richer or for poorer” His face was getting sloppy, but no less strong. You remove your hands from his sweet cheeks to play with his balls.
“In sickness and in health.” You scrape your nails across his left asscheek, no doubt taking some skin with you. You’re whimpering at this point, slit throbbing to be touched but you wanted to cum from his voice alone.
“Forsaking all others.” It was dizzying, the tone of his voice strong and sure and just so certain in his words. He was so certain this was forever and ever, and so were you.
“To love and- and to ch-cherish, shitshitshitshit!” He grips your hair and you grip his thighs, both of you cumming in time as he says his last words.
“UntilDeathDoUsPart” Marc spills out the final phrase in a hurry fucking his cum down your throat as he cries out your name, your own toes attempting to curl up in the wedding shoes.
Sliding his softening cock out your mouth, you see the remnants of your lipstick on him. Yeah, you were going to need him to fix your face. For now though, Marc puts his dick in his pants and drops to his knees, looking you in the eye with a shit eating grin on his face. “Did you just cum untouched, baby?”
Playful, you smack his face knee. “Shut up!”
Full of joyous laughter, Marc picks you up and spins you around, making you squeal in delight. “Ani ohev otah! So fucking much!”
Nothing in the world felt better than being in Marc Spector's arms.
***************
This goes out to my beleoved Mona who alway shared ehr thirst idea with me lolololol this is something we were workshopping together while I was in line for Bleacher lol (fun fact I stopped a fight there.)
For now, Im going to be focusing on my work for the ZIne, my pride event, and trying to finish either awakening or blessed be the fruit. thats my goal this month. Maybe more if you wanna be wild if were luky, but that series means so much to me I don't wanna half ass it. It needs to be perfect bc were about to deal with Santi's trauma.
Want to see more? Want to keep up? I dont have a tag list for follow @romana-updates and turn on noifications!
Thank you all so much for your support! Im considering doing something MK for the pride event (see my pinned post) but Im unsure yet. I know I'll have lots of joel and a Santi.
love yall lots!
#marc spector x reader#marc spector x fem!reader#fem reader#f reader#f!reader#moon knight#marc spector#moon knight fanfiction#marc spector smut#smut#angst#marc spector angst#marc spector x you#marc spector/reader#marc spector/you#moon knight smut#moon knight x reader#oscar isaac smut#oscar isaac#oscar isaac characters
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Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER TWO | 18+
«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
THE MATCHMAKER MEETS HIS MATCH
“Ruin me, please.”
«PREVIOUS CHAPTER» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»
Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, mutual fantasizing, brief mentions of virginity loss, heavy drinking, Hyunjin is delulu, heavy dom/sub dynamics: dom!reader, sub!Han Jisung (yes, there's Jisung smut in a Hyunjin story SUE ME), degradation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, drunk sex (both are consenting parties), semi-public sex (?) Word Count: 15.1k
P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡
“And now, here’s what we really want to ask you, Dr. Hwang: are you single?”
The interviewer swivels her head to look at Hyunjin, her Botox-enhanced mouth spreading into a wide, magenta-lipsticked smile. Hyunjin barely registers her question, distracted by her disturbing resemblance to a vulture, with her beady eyes, hooked nose, and razor-sharp nails clutching a microphone like talons grasping prey. Her garish pea-green pantsuit and cat-eye glasses, combined with a frizzy blonde perm, remind him of that creepy reporter from Harry Potter, absolutely not helping his currently depleted Zen levels.
He can already feel a sweat breaking out on his neck, permeating his satin button-down and threatening to ruin the outfit he had chosen this morning. Usually, picking out what to wear is one of Hyunjin’s favorite parts of the entire day; breathing in the Coco Noir scent of his walk-in closet is like Hyunjin’s own expensive version of aromatherapy. Today, however, it felt like a chore; It took him forever to find the perfect accessories to tie everything together, before he finally settled on his new gold Cartier earrings and the matching Juste un Clou bracelet. Hyunjin knows he looks amazing in his tastefully vintage yet sleek ensemble. He looks every bit the title of a sexy savant, one that he so rightfully carries. He looks ready to slay an interview on California’s most popular talk-show, The L.A. View. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t feel it.
It could have been the coffee that he had hand-pressed for himself this morning, his usual brew of arabica beans imported from the misty slopes of Guatemala. But then again, the coffee brought a much-needed buzz that Hyunjin needed to drag himself out of bed, no matter how temporary. More likely, it was the margarita that he’d downed in the car that was sent to pick him up and bring him to the studio to tape the interview. Tequila always makes Hyunjin’s stomach turn. Or maybe—
“Dr. Hwang?”
Hyunjin snaps out of his reverie, plastering a charmingly mysterious smile onto his face. One, two, three… work that charm. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sharon?”
The audience oohs beneath the dimmed stage lighting, and Sharon turns red, a shade visible even under the lurid bronzer that’s caked onto her face. Hyunjin would really love to book Sharon an appointment at HWASA Skincare and Cosmetics, his go-to beauty consultant whenever he’s visiting Seoul. The founder and CEO, his old friend Hye-Jin, would personally host her just so that Hyunjin could be relieved of the horrible bout of trypophobia he’s getting right now, staring into Sharon’s cavernous pores.
“Oh, stop it!” Sharon giggles, clapping her hands together. “There definitely must be a lucky lady in your life. You’re the Love Doctor. And not to mention, but very handsome.”
Sharon winks over exaggeratedly at the camera, and Hyunjin has to hold himself back from cringing away when she palms his shoulder, eyeing him hungrily. He can’t blame her, of course; the sleeves of his shirt squeeze his arms in such a way that his toned biceps are shown off— thank you very much, Better Body Pilates. But he needs his personal space. Out of everything, he hates when people treat him like some sort of an animal at the zoo, petting and prodding at him. He sees himself as more of the Mona Lisa, a masterpiece to be marveled at, not touched. His Zen is important, after all.
Still, Hyunjin just shoots her a disarming smirk, crossing one Valentino-clad leg over the other. “The only lady in my life is Princess Diana. But I’d say I’m the lucky one.”
Both Sharon and the audience members aww, utterly captivated by Hyunjin when he pulls out a small Polaroid of his puppy from his breast pocket, holding it out so that the cameras can zoom in on it. As expected, his answer seems to have satisfied Sharon’s invasiveness, but beneath his beaming expression hides the building tension in his chest.
What Hyunjin said is the partial truth; he may not currently have a significant other, but did he have someone in mind, when romance is in question? Yes. Is said person completely off-limits? Also yes. And would his reputation be completely tarnished if that very classified information got out? Yes, yes, and yes.
“Thank you so much for sitting down with us, Dr. Hwang,” Sharon says, thrusting out her hand for Hyunjin to shake it. Ever the professional, he accepts it like a champ. “And that’s all for now, folks! Stay tuned to watch my little chat with Meghan Markle about her ex-royal lifestyle. The teapot is boiling!”
The cameras cut and Hyunjin quickly excuses himself, waving to all of the people wistfully gazing after him. He enters the little hallway behind the filming room and breaks into a run very unlike himself, practically having to swerve around crew members and stage equipment. As soon as he’s locked away inside his dressing room, Hyunjin slides off his patent leather loafers and falls back onto the couch.
It’s been exactly three months since he first set eyes on you, kickstarting his unsavory fantasies and therein, digging himself into an early grave. And maybe it would have been okay, because as a male, sometimes he’s inclined to think with his dick. It’s a biological reaction that he can’t control. But it’s not, though, because the constant image of you printed like a tattoo on his mind has been interfering with his life and sense of normalcy. It’s a feeling that’s only grown in magnitude, especially now that with your weekly sessions, you’ve rapidly blossomed into the strong, confident woman that he always knew you were. So it’s not the fact that he’s horny— well, not the only fact— it’s that he might have feelings for you. Feelings that could get him into trouble, bigtime.
And the list that you wrote for him a while back definitely didn’t help. Hyunjin sits up, reaching for his notepad that he left on the little coffee table in front of the couch. He leafs through the pages, before pulling out the small slip of paper that he saved. Reading over the words for what feels like the umpteenth time, Hyunjin involuntarily smiles to himself. This time, it’s genuine.
The first thing that I don’t absolutely hate about myself is my imagination. I’ve been restricting myself a lot, lately, because I hated the thought of coming up with new ideas just to never bring them to life. It’s probably my post-Jisung and ITEM Tech trauma. But I felt kind of inspired by our first meeting today. I have a lot of great ideas, and I think that one day, I have the potential to beat Jisung’s ass and make a better company than his.
My fucking patience. You know, you might think otherwise, because it may seem like I have the patience of a single mom at a birthday party. But today proved differently. My friend/coworker Minho and his wife invited me over for dinner, which would have been fine, except they’re one of the most disgustingly perfect couples ever. They can’t go two minutes without giving each other a sappy ass look or holding hands or singing a song or something. And then Minho’s wife asked me if I wanted some ice cream, like she and her man weren’t just all over each other a millisecond ago. I just smiled and nodded. You can say I have the patience of the saint, now.
I like how I’m perseverant. For example: this. I could have given up after the first two days and ditched this piece of paper. But I didn’t. I want to be better. I’m very perseverent. Okay, my hand hurts. I’m putting down the pen for today.
My resilience. For the billionth time in my life, my boss made me want to drive out of work and jump into a lake. Long story short, Mark Lee is the worst motherfucker to ever exist (well, after his bestie Park Jisung. My boss and ex-boyfriend are friends. FML). But after one of his daily rants about how I’m not up to mark for some random reason, I walked out of his office and into the office kitchen. I got a Sprite from the fridge, crushed the full can with my bare hands, and then proceeded to calmly clean up the spilled soda before going back to work. I deserve a medal for my healthy anger management technique of smashing things and then bouncing back like a friggin’ spring.
The only home cooked meals I can really stomach are the ones that Minho shares with me at work. You know, he’s really such a menace. When I moved into my current apartment, he got me a cutting board as a gift, knowing damn well I don’t cook. But nowadays, I’ve been slowly getting more comfortable in the kitchen. I still don’t think I trust myself in cooking, but I’m kind of a really good baker, I’m realizing. Today, I made brownies. I’m eating one right now, and I guess I don’t hate that.
I am very patient, Part 2. My dumbass cousin, Yeonjun, called me up to hang out. Knowing him, that means me buying him a crap ton of expensive food. And he’s pretty loaded, too. I think he just loves pissing me off. First, he wanted pizza. That would have been fine, if we hit Domino’s or something, but he made me take him to this ridiculously upscale restaurant downtown. Their damn pizzas had caviar and truffles on them! Like, what the fuck happened to good old pepperoni? And as if that wasn’t enough, he then started complaining that he wanted fucking dessert too. So he ordered this fruit charcuterie board that cost another fortune. On the way home, I had to get him an $8 boba because “the cheese made him thirsty.” His metabolism is amazing. I’m kind of jealous. But anyway, I’m practically Mother Teresa at this point, because dealing with Yeonjun is no easy task. He’s lucky I love him.
Fundamentally, I think I’m a good person. And I think I deserve to be happy. There. Seven things, seven days. I’m done now. See you tomorrow.
Hyunjin sighs, sliding the paper back into his book and setting it inside his little Prada bag. This tiny scrap of paper had him seeing stars, when he first read it in the office, in front of you. There’s just something about you that he couldn’t and still can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s how delightfully pugnacious you are, or that comically angry tone you approach the world with, no matter what. And he had to bite his tongue too, because there’s no way you came up with just seven things, not when Hyunjin felt like he could give a whole recitation on your very attractive qualities, just after meeting with you once. You’re unintentionally hilarious. Real. Tough. Inquisitive. Also, you’re simply the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
You’re like an impossible puzzle to him; all the pieces are there, and yet, he can’t seem to put you together. Or rather, he can’t seem to figure out how to get his own shit together and finish the damn puzzle. Because he’s oh-so down bad, and he knows it.
“Dr. Hwang? Are you in there?”
Hyunjin stands up immediately, locking away his daydreams about you and brushing off his trousers. He quickly smooths back his artfully slicked wolf cut and opens the door for Wonyoung to step inside with her trusty tablet. Momentarily, Hyunjin is sidetracked by her outfit, a stylish mini paired with a silky lilac bomber jacket— because where the fuck are those heels from— before he remembers himself.
“What’s up?” Hyunjin nonchalantly flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes, trying not to seem like he wasn’t just having a panic attack on that stupid couch just five seconds ago.
Wonyoung taps on the screen of the tablet for a few seconds, before looking up. “You have an appointment with your personal trainer in twenty minutes. You’re running late. And then at four, you need to get back to SeoulSpark for a meeting with a client. Here’s your change of clothes. I’ve already called a car for you.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Hyunjin accepts the gym bag, before jerking back in dreadful realization. “Wait. Which client do I have to meet with today?”
Wonyoung gives him a strange look. “Miss Y/L/N. Hey, are you alright, Dr. Hwang? You always stay on top of all of your engagements, but you haven’t been yourself lately.”
At the mere mention of your name, Hyunjin literally wishes he could melt into a puddle right then and there. Of course he hasn’t been himself, not when you waltzed into the office and wreaked havoc on his very humble life— for example, yesterday, he forgot to wear his Versace pajamas to sleep, and not his Fendi ones. Hyunjin knows that Saturdays are strictly for Versace; he promised Donatella years ago at the Met Gala. This is all your fault— how can it be poor Hyunjin’s, when he’s just a mere mortal cowering in your goddess-like presence?
“I- I’m okay, Wonyoung. I, uh, just ate some bad sushi.”
“You ate bad sushi every day for the past three months?” Wonyoung suspiciously raises an eyebrow at Hyunjin. She isn’t buying it, unfortunately.
“Uh-huh. It’s a terrible addiction that I’m trying to break. My raw seafood intake is off the charts. Guess I’m not perfect after all,” Hyunjin babbles, adding onto his already horrendous lie.
Wonyoung still doesn’t look convinced, but Hyunjin flounces out of the room before she can say anything else and uncover his deep, dark secret: you. Besides, his ride is waiting outside and his quads really need working.
“See you later, Changbin.” Hyunjin waves to his trainer as he grabs his belongings and exits the gym after a grueling workout. Usually, he prefers more low-impact routines, like aerial yoga or cycling around Marina del Rey. But because he’s been skimping out so much these days, Changbin made him do an endless round of jump squats before beating his ass in boxing.
Hyunjin presses his fingers to his aching back muscles, sore with both exhaustion and worry. The slim hands of his Rolex alert him to the fact that there is only one more hour before he must face you, and he is nowhere near ready. He’ll just have to skip the sauna today. Quickly, he gets into the car standing for him by the curb, slipping on his Gucci shades and sliding down below the window in the backseat, like a celebrity escaping a paparazzi cloud.
As soon as he gets back to Oasis, the opulent complex that houses his beloved penthouse, Hyunjin practically flies into his bathroom and locks the door. Without even bothering to set his eucalyptus shower steamer, Hyunjin cleans himself up as much as he can, scrubbing off the sweat and grit of the gym from his skin.
Once he’s finished, he gets dressed and sits down in front of his bedroom mirror that’s designed to look like a Hollywood-style vanity. Taking a deep breath, he inspects his face for any signs of something off. Nope. He looks as dewy and fresh as a pink rose petal, minus the slight red rings under his eyes, which are the courtesy of many, many sleepless nights over you.
Hyunjin, however, is incredibly proud of himself for getting to the office with fifteen minutes to spare, therein being able to fit in a little solo pep talk in the car. His third outfit of the day is a show-stopping black Celine suit, practically designed to make heads turn. It definitely isn’t to impress you with his impeccable style— no, he did it for himself, obviously. That’s the only reason. And it’s a little extravagant, even for Hyunjin, but then again, he’s never been known for his subtlety.
His post-workout clarity gives him hope that everything will go back to normal, before you. All he needs to do is focus on himself. Everything else will pass, eventually. At least, that’s what Hyunjin keeps telling himself to believe, right before he crashes headfirst into you in the hallway outside of his office.
“Hey, Hyunjin!” Grinning, you hold out a small gift box tied with a sunny bow, which is coincidentally the exact same yellow as the dress you wore when Hyunjin first met you. Today, you’re sporting salmon-colored shorts and a cream blouse with an adorable sailor collar, and Hyunjin immediately has to tamp down the urge to whisk you away to go on a private boating vacation on a yacht in St. Barts. God, you really have amazing style.
Hyunjin swallows roughly and takes the box, trying to look more excited about it than how utterly taken with you he is. “Afternoon, darling. What’s this?”
You reach your hand over to where the box rests in Hyunjin’s hands, toying with the bow. Hyunjin automatically feels himself internally hyperventilate at your proximity that’s too close for comfort.
“Mango cheesecake. I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe for a while now, and I think it finally turned out really well.” You break into a bright smile that makes Hyunjin’s brain short circuit. “I want to thank you for all of your help, besides me being less-than-cooperative sometimes. Coming here has really changed my perspective on things, and for the better.”
Hyunjin clutches the box to his chest. He had always suspected that you are the sweetest, under your stormy exterior, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to get a taste and confirm the truth for himself. Nevertheless, he’s both touched and now even more delusional, because you spent time on him, making something to give him. “Darling, you shouldn’t have.”
You pout in response, and Hyunjin grasps the box even tighter, nearly crushing the contents in an effort to get a grip on himself. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”
Hyunjin grins, feeling himself relax a little. That’s one more thing about you— you have this contradicting ability to induce both calmness and anxiety into him, another kind of black magic that you definitely harbor in your bewitching eyes. “Well, thank you. I can’t wait to try it.”
You look away shyly and gesture towards Hyunjin’s office. “Should we head in?”
Smiling to himself, Hyunjin steps ahead to open the door for you as you duck your head and scramble in, folding yourself onto the sofa that you both are now well-acquainted enough to often share. After setting his velvet tote bag onto his desk, Hyunjin sits down beside you, holding out a glass of mango juice to you, a drink that you now frequent whenever you meet. Plus the cheesecake? You really must love mangoes.
As you sip on your juice, Hyunjin decides to take the reasonable course of action available: ask you about your day, not if you’re available next Friday night at six. “How have you been? I’m sorry I couldn’t see you last week.”
You shrug, waving off Hyunjin’s apology like it’s nothing. It isn’t, though; he would rather have spent time with you than having to fly to Shanghai for some brand endorsement deal that his agent made him take. “Don’t worry about it. And I’ve been good. Evidently, in a much more agreeable mood these days. It’s certainly a step-up from the grumpier me, isn’t it?”
“I like you however you are,” Hyunjin blurts out without thinking, before freezing in realization. In a better world, he would have had the sense to at least clamp his hand over his mouth before he could say something stupid, but unfortunately, he’s stuck here. He wills the stammering, bumbling idiot that he turns into when you’re around to disappear, to be replaced by his usual, suave self. It doesn’t quite work, because he feels a furious blush building on his neck.
You’ve also turned a light shade of pink, and Hyunjin prays to God that you can’t see through his bullshit. “Because I’m your client. You accept me however I am.”
Hyunjin has to mentally stab himself with a fork as a reminder that he cannot, under any circumstances, disagree, although he really, really wants to. You could never be just a client to him. You’re too precious to him for that title. Yet, he keeps a straight face as he nods, disgusted with what he’s about to say. “Exactly. You’re my client.”
You down the rest of your drink, setting the glass down on the coffee table. “Anyway, you emailed me that you had something special planned for today. What is it?”
“Right.” Hyunjin clears his throat, getting up from the sofa to make his way over to his desk. He opens one of the drawers and pulls out the thick binder he’s been dreading using with you for a while now. It weighs his hands down like an unpleasant secret as he sits back down next to you.
“What’s this?” You inquire, leaning in closer to Hyunjin. The movement allows the sugary scent of your vanilla perfume become even more prominent to Hyunjin, which is definitely not helpful right now. Hyunjin stares down at the binder, adopting a robotic tone that won’t betray his thoughts.
“We’ve worked on just you for the past few months, and now it’s time. You’re finally ready to explore dating.” Hyunjin opens the binder, trying to ignore the sour taste of the words on his tongue. “And as I’ve told you before, SeoulSpark has an incredible matchmaking service that caters to everything you desire in a potential partner.”
“Cool! How does it work?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices your shorts ride up slightly, further exposing the soft skin of your upper thigh. Think of the fork, Hyunjin. Think of the damn fork.
“Well, I’ve already compiled a number of candidates in our database whose profiles complement yours. We’re going to be setting up a time when you can speed date them.”
You quirk your eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is to Hyunjin. “Speed dating? That’s…”
“I know, I know. It might seem weird at first, but that’s why we’re doing it the SeoulSpark way, to reduce awkwardness and make it really worth your time. We’ll go over the candidates briefly, and weed out the ones you really don’t want to see.” Hyunjin opens the binder, going to the profiles. “But I won’t tell you their names, so we can maintain at least a small element of surprise.”
Your eyes widen as you take in the first candidate’s picture, and Hyunjin has to fight the burning jealousy in his chest. “Wow. He’s handsome.”
“Swipe left or right?”
“Right.”
“Okay.” Hyunjin turns to the next page. “What about him?”
“Uh, left. He reminds me of my uncle. No thank you.”
Hyunjin stifles his smile as he continues flipping through the profiles, noting down your answers. He tries to enjoy your unfiltered reactions and not think about the fact that one of these lucky bastards could be your future husband. Finally, he gets to the last candidate.
You frown. “He looks kind of like a chipmunk. A quokka, maybe.”
“So is that a left?”
“I’ll say right. He seems like he’d be interesting.” You shrug, your eyes glittering with mischief. “Actually, I’m kind of excited now. Some of these guys are lookers.”
Hyunjin laughs in spite of himself, shutting the binder and standing up. “I’ll email you the details of the event by next week, when we’ll be holding it. ”
You nod, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear— oh, how Hyunjin wishes he could just casually do that for you. “Got it. I’ll make sure to look dazzling.”
“Darling, you always look dazzling.” Hyunjin smirks in self-satisfaction when you flush at his quip. It’s not exactly a reaction that’s foreign to him, but seeing you like this, all cute and bashful, is new. And it’s a look that’s very attractive on you. Hopefully, you attribute the flirting to Hyunjin’s naturally charming personality, not the fact that he’s impossibly gone for you. Not that the truth would make a difference, however. You’ll never be his.
“Thanks, Hyunjin.” You get up from your seat, letting Hyunjin walk you out, like he always does. “I feel like you have a vision going on for this matchmaking event.”
“Oh, I always have a vision.” Hyunjin chuckles, opening the door for you. “We’re considering a tropical theme, or a garden party, maybe. Or something glamorous. Kind of like prom, but without the bad music and horny teenagers, you know?”
You shrug. “Actually, I never went to my high school senior prom. But all of these ideas sound incredible.”
He pauses, his eyes widening. “You never went to prom?”
“There was this guy.” You look uncomfortable, but before Hyunjin can assure you that you don’t have to tell him about it, you decide to continue. “I wanted to go with him, but long story short, he rejected me. And I didn’t really have any friends I could go with either. I could have gone on my own, but I wasn’t brave enough. It’s one of the things that I did when I was younger that I regret now. I guess it just speaks volumes about how I hold myself back a lot.”
Hyunjin frowns. “Who in their right mind would reject you?”
“My first love, apparently. And a bunch of others.” You sigh, fiddling with the little bow on your sleeve. “But whatever. I’m going to find a real man.”
“They’re idiots. And prom isn’t even all that.”
You snort. “Says you. I’ll bet you were the kind of guy who got invited by all of the girls to be their date to prom, even if you weren’t even a senior yet.”
“Exactly. I would know precisely that prom is overrated as fuck.” Hyunjin gives you a smile. “Maybe we’ll just go with the garden party.”
You stay quiet for a moment, as if thinking something over, before looking directly into Hyunjin’s eyes. “Shame. I think I would’ve liked to see you in a tux.”
And with that, you turn around and leave, as Hyunjin just stays rooted on the spot, dumbfounded. Because how can you just so easily shoot an arrow straight into his heart and walk away? You’re a threat to society. You’re a wicked enchantress. You’re the bane of Hyunjin’s existence, and yet, he wants you to come back and string him along like a fucking bow. The dilemma is clear: Hyunjin absolutely cannot just move on from you. This is an extremely deafening cry for help.
“Wonyoung?” Hyunjin croaks, as he steps back inside and collapses onto his chair.
Hyunjin’s loyal secretary sticks her head into the room, her glossy locks tumbling over her shoulders like a Pantene commercial. Hyunjin makes a mental note to ask her later about her hair care routine. “Yes, boss?”
“Call Dr. Kim for me, please. I don’t feel so good.”
“Of course. I guess the bad sushi really got you this time.”
“Strep throat? Negative. Flu swab test? Negative. Every single other test you made me administer for you? Ditto.”
Hyunjin aggressively rubs his palms over his face. “Is there anything else, Seungmin? Are you sure there is absolutely nothing wrong with me? Should we do anything again?”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, setting his clipboard down on the bench space next to him. “It’s Dr. Kim. And I did a Barium Swallow test for you, Hyunjin. You don’t just do those for any idiot who walks in begging to be examined for no apparent ailment. Took thirty minutes and nothing at all. Chief resident would be on my ass if she knew.”
“You’d think we haven’t been best friends since our Stanford days,” Hyunjin says. “There is something wrong with me.”
Hyunjin stares down at the upper right leg of his pants, picking at a small loose thread. He’s never seen one appear in his clothing ever since he was eighteen and quiet being so fashionably challenged, but instead of disgust, he feels a strange sense of solidarity. Just like the thread, he feels out of place; confused and lost, even though he’s standing right in the middle of half of the world’s dream. But wanting someone who he can never have isn’t a dream, surely, and neither is the phantom pain in his abdomen, the one that Dr. Kim claims doesn't exist.
“‘Our Stanford days’ were literally only three years ago. And I was in med school while you were getting a PhD in the study of crazies. I knew there were a couple screws loose up there,” Seungmin scoffs, tapping his temple in flourish punctuated with impudence. “I should have known better than to befriend your ass.”
“Seung-min, you’re lying,” Hyunjin retorts, emphasizing the syllables of his friend’s name. “I swear, I’m sick.”
Seungmin groans, fed up with Hyunjin’s stubborn mindset. “You’re twenty-eight years old and have your own booming practice. Hell, you wear head-to-toe designer, even underwear— yes, I saw the Gucci briefs in your bag, that one time you made me go shopping with you. Meanwhile, I’m a stressed, overworked, and underpaid surgery resident who has to listen to his rich and famous best friend complain that he’s not feeling well. Oh, poor baby. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying! I’m trying, okay?” Hyunjin finally explodes, throwing his hands up in the air. Usually, he maintains that peaceful temperament that puts up with Seungmin’s attitude. Not today, however. “Honestly, Seungmin, you want to know what’s wrong with me? Her. She’s all over me, inside and out! Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of her. Everywhere I go— her. And you know what? It’s not all in my head. It’s not a fucking crazy case. I physically feel myself wanting to throw up every five fucking minutes. I have a horrible headache that won’t go away, no matter how long I rot in my bed. I’m sore all over and I just want to go home!”
Hyunjin’s best friend just glares at him in shock for a good few seconds, watching as he pants from the ferocity of his words. And then he recovers, smoothing his face over into that signature judgemental expression, because he’s Kim Seungmin. “I should’ve known this was about a girl.”
Hyunjin sighs. Thankfully, no one overheard his rant, because this is Seungmin’s lunch break and whenever Hyunjin insists on an emergency meeting, Seungmin brings him over to this empty corridor tucked behind the equipment storage rooms, where no prying eyes wander.
“It’s not just any girl, Seungmin. It’s the girl. She’s… all I do know is that she’s my client who walked into my life three months ago and proceeded to destroy it. She came in like a tropical storm and now she smiles at me like the fucking sun. She confuses me and makes me forget random shit and she doesn’t even know about any of it. And all I want to be is hers, even though I can’t be.”
Seungmin doesn’t say anything, before he bursts into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that makes his body shake with impact. “You… are… acting… so stupid.”
And this only makes Hyunjin even more frustrated. “Well, that’s the whole damn point! I’m not stupid, but I’m obviously acting it! I don’t know what to do, Seungmin! Help a brother out!”
After he calms himself down, Seungmin sighs loudly and wipes the traces of any tears caused by amusement of Hyunjin’s plight. “I’m not an expert in this, Hyunjin. But to be honest, it seems to me that you’re falling for her, and you’re just in denial.”
Hyunjin feels nothing short of horrified. “But… I can’t be. Are you sure?”
“Aren’t you the friggin’ Love Doctor or some shit? How the fuck am I supposed to be sure?”
But Hyunjin barely hears Seungmin, getting off the bench to pace back and forth in the little hallway. He can’t be falling for you, because— he just can’t! The plethora of problems that would arise from him falling in love with you are fucking endless, the worst being that you could end up negatively impacted. And all because your stupid, idiotic dating coach couldn’t keep his stupid, idiotic feelings in check. He would rather give up his beloved Versace brand deal than ever see you hurt, and that’s really saying something.
Seungmin tries to get to Hyunjin again. “Or maybe you’re not falling for her. Maybe you’re just horny.”
Hyunjin whirls around, side-eyeing Seungmin with disgust. “The hell you mean?”
“When’s the last time you, you know? Got some?”
“You put it so eloquently.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “And it’s been ten months.”
“See? That’s definitely it. You need to get laid, and you’re taking your sexual frustration out like this. You’re always the one lecturing everyone else on having healthy sex and love lives and shit, but really you’re a hypocrite. Tell me, why are you such a hypocrite, Hyunjin?”
Hyunjin crosses his arms, irritated yet able to see Seungmin’s point. He had his share of relationships, enough to augment his experience and research in the whole field. It’s not like they all ended badly, though— quite the opposite, really. The majority of them were amicable splits, or awkward conversations, at the very most. The only notably sour memory is Hyunjin’s ex-girlfriend from ninth grade, the one who broke up with him in a fit of jealousy when another girl confessed her love for Hyunjin. But then again, all high school relationships are basically doomed to crash and burn.
Hyunjin was careful to never get into anything too serious anyway, because his only love would be his job; he broke up with his last girlfriend— which might be a strong word for someone who merely considered him a wine-and-dine booty call— because he just didn’t feel that same spark with her that he felt when running his business. And he didn’t think he had that capacity to feel it anywhere else, but that was all before you.
“I don’t know, Seungmin.” Hyunjin looks down glumly at the concrete flooring, his body completely exhausted of all of the fight in him
The look in Seungmin’s eyes softens as Hyunjin slumps back into his seat. “Don’t you think that you’ve been so busy thinking about helping other people with their loves that you’ve completely neglected yours? When are you going to stop being so goddamn perfect and care for yourself?”
“But I do care for myself! Why else would I have a fourteen-step skincare routine and Gucci boxers?” Hyunjin protests, stalling more than really arguing. He just doesn’t want to admit to what’s really bothering him.
Seungmin rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. He should get back to rounds; lunch will be over soon. “That’s not self-care, that’s called being fucking weird. And I’m talking about your head. You have this illusion up there that in order to help others, you need to be flawless. Get out of it, man. Whether you want someone to have a one-night stand with or have your freaking children, you need to be open and pursue it. Life is messy and unpredictable, even for neurotic perfectionists like you. It’s okay to be horny. It’s okay to be in love. It’s okay to be you.”
Hyunjin ponders over Seungmin’s advice, before looking up. “I hate when you’re right.”
“I know.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t you ‘fine’ me, dumbass. Go put on your Armani shit and get going, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t Mission Impossible. I can’t believe I have to tell you this.” Seungmin shakes his head, dusting off his scrubs. He leans forward to tighten the laces on his special work sneakers; the clock is really ticking down now.
Hyunjin gives Seungmin a withering look. “I wear Versace on my missions.”
“Welcome to SeoulSpark’s third biannual company-wide Matchmaking Event!”
The small crowd of hopeful singles crammed into the gazebo politely claps as the speaker looks down at all of you from his perch on the little elevated platform, like some kind of an all-knowing benefactor.
“Thank you everyone. You can call me Jin, and I’ll be your emcee and operations director on this fine afternoon.” He beams. “And can I just say, you people look so good today? Obviously not as much as me, but still.’”
A scattered collection of horribly faked laughter ripples throughout the gathering, and you have to resist rolling your eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jin does actually serve as great eye candy, you would’ve already been putting on your sunglasses and trying to fake being awake.
“Dr. Hwang will be here in a few moments to intro, and then we’ll get on with it!” Jin states, continuing his unnecessary theatrics. “But while we wait, can someone answer this question: what do you call an ice cream that parties too hard?”
Before the inevitable awkward silence can ensue, some bored-looking man who stands a little further away from everyone else pipes up. You recognize him as the very first candidate whose picture Hyunjin had presented to you— the hot one— except now, his short, preppy haircut has grown out into a wavy mullet. “Just say it.”
Jin looks temporarily taken aback by the man’s unfiltered attitude, before correcting his expression back into a winning smile. “It is out of CONE-trol! Get it? Because of the ice cream cone? Isn’t that funny?”
There isn’t a single person in the crowd who looks impressed, least of all mullet-guy. “No. And it still wouldn’t be funny even if I was seven years old and actually liked horrible dad jokes.”
There’s a bite to his tone, and Jin seems to have taken it personally. Jin clears his throat, stuck while clearly trying to think of something to say, when relief comes over his face as he looks directly at you. “There he is! Dr. Hwang: the man of the hour.”
You turn around so fast that you nearly get whiplash, and of course Hyunjin is right there, towering over you like some sort of gorgeous sunflower. Fuck— you knew you smelled that stormy jasmine in the air, but you passed it off as just your imagination. And because there are so many people packed into this tiny pavilion, your bodies are practically pressed together as everyone else cranes their necks to get a load of the Love Doctor.
“It’s so good to see you, darling. You look stunning,” Hyunjin says to you, in a way that seems so genuine that your baby blue gingham sundress from Target doesn’t feel so childish anymore, like you thought after seeing all of the other ladies’ stylish getups.
“Thanks.” You blush, averting your eyes. The last time you met up with him, your bolder alter-ego possessed you for a second and threw a flirty one-liner at Hyunjin, when you realized yourself and walked the hell away, before you could gauge his reaction. “You look very stunning yourself as well.”
And he truly is, as always, dressed in another quirky yet stylish look: a high-neck jacket and camel cargos, complete with a chain link shoulder leather bag. The thick gold crosses dangling from his ears don’t look gaudy, instead bringing out a youthful glow in Hyunjin’s skin. God, you really love a man who can dress.
“Everything alright, Dr. Hwang?” Jin calls out, breaking you out of your trance.
“Yes, Jin. I’ll be up in a second.” Hyunjin doesn’t take his eyes off of you, just serenely blinking like he has all the time in the world. “I absolutely adored your mango cheesecake, darling. You have to tell me about the recipe later.”
He shoots you one last disarming smile, before heading up to the platform, and you’re left to longingly stare after him like a dessert enthusiast on a sugar-free diet. You watch him take the mic from Jin, who dramatically holds out his hands towards Hyunjin when backing off of the platform.
“Hello!” Hyunjin chirps, and really, the wind is a paid actor here, breezing in and perfectly tousling his midnight mane.
This time, the audience’s response is more authentic, everyone responds in their own greetings out loud. You can’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight; your crush really is so charismatic.
“So, we’ve already explained how today’s going to work in the emails that were sent out to all of you a couple days ago. But to debrief: we will be having fifteen six-minute speed dating rounds today, each held at one of the designated tables,” Hyunjin explains, gesturing to the space surrounding the gazebo.
For the matchmaking event, SeoulSpark booked out Cafe Fiorella, a posh little eatery nestled in the heart of Vista Hermosa Natural Park’s dusty garden trails and meadows. Hyunjin and his planners did an outstanding job of organizing everything, and even you can’t help but note how impossibly romantic it is— for a speed-dating gig, at least. There are dainty bistro tables set up in the grassy outdoor dining area and nestled on top of them, multiple tiered platters loaded with hors d'oeuvres and decorative blossoms. You don’t even want to think about how much this would have cost.
“Before each round, you will all get a text providing you with the number of your table, where you will be able to chat with your partner, one of the candidates that corresponded with your profile.” Hyunjin catches your eye, and you feel yourself heat up. Focus. “After every round, take note of who you want to see again, and at the end, we’ll give you a form to fill out and submit. When you have your next appointment with us, we’ll let you know who you’ve matched with. Any questions?”
No one raises any, probably because they’re too self-conscious to ask in front of their potential partners, which leaves Hyunjin to just nod. “My team and I will be present as chaperones, just making sure everything is going smoothly. And I’d also like to thank our Dr. Jeon’s brother, Mr. Kim Seokjin, for volunteering to time and emcee the event!”
“Oh, Hyun. Always so formal. Call me Mr. Worldwide Handsome instead!” Jin calls out from the back. He does an exaggerated little bow and you— along with many other attendees— have to stifle a laugh. What a cheeseball.
Hyunjin just smiles graciously, eyes crinkling with mischief. “Let’s get the party going!”
The up-tempo, raunchy sound of girl rap blasts out of speakers that you didn’t even know existed, scaring the shit out of you momentarily. You have no doubt at all that the afternoon’s garden party beats were compiled by your eccentric Love Doctor, before you start to subconsciously sway— and mentally twerk— to “Body.”
“Ladies and gents, this is just in with Jin! Make sure to find your seats in the next five minutes, and we’ll start the clock!”
Your phone chimes with your first table assignment of the day, and you make your way over there, dodging the throngs of men and women antsy to discover their matches. You sit down at your table, trying to ignore the nervousness building in your chest. With the presence of Hyunjin, his beautiful self lingering somewhere barely a few feet away from you, you’re not sure you can give today your best. And for the first time— it’s not you. It’s the fact that you have feelings for your unsuspecting charmer, and deep inside, you can’t fight the thought of not being able to get over him.
But a lively ambiance courtesy of Megan Thee Stallion doesn’t fit the deep, contemplative mood, so you resort to pushing away your qualms and blankly gazing out at the high rise views while waiting for your partner. If this doesn’t work out, at least you can say you had a nice time humming to lovably NSFW music and raiding the appetizers.
“Beefing with you bitches really getting kinda boring—”
“You know, I kind of vibe with this shit.” Mullet-guy from earlier plops down into the chair across from you. “Don’t tell Mr. Worldwide Handsome that, though. I’ll never give him the satisfaction.”
You giggle at the comically blank expression on mullet-guy’s face. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Jin would’ve added the EDM remix of “Savage” to the playlist.”
Mullet-guy doesn’t smile, but you catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Fair enough. I’m Yoongi.”
“Y/N.” You carefully take a mini slice of flaky herbed pastry off of the stand and place it on the china plate in front of you. Now that everyone has settled down, the music has been turned down to enable better conversation. “Maybe I’m being blunt here, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type of guy to go to a speed-dating event.”
“Well, what kind of guy do I strike you as?” Yoongi asks, settling back comfortably into his chair. If it was anyone else talking, you would have thought they were flirting with you. But not with Yoongi— you can’t quite put your finger on it, but he feels incredibly familiar to you. This could be just another regular talk with a good friend.
You make a show of taking in his beat-up leather jacket and the silver stud in his left ear, all add-ons to his roguishly handsome aesthetic. “Wannabe SoundCloud rapper meets Fuji Kaze, except with an even worse fashion sense.”
Most people would have already shrank away from your sarcastic sense of humor, but Yoongi claps back. “I could say the same for you. Don’t tell me you’re actually going for The Stepford Wives with that dress. You even have the Mary-Jane shoes.”
“These are discounted flats from Old Navy, don’t even. And I’ll bet your emo ass was stuck in Hot Topic since grade school.”
Yoongi bursts out laughing. “Okay, you win. But you’re not wrong though— I am a rapper, of sorts.”
You lean forward. “Really?”
“Of sorts— I haven't had much time to really get into it and improve myself, ever since I started my own record label last year, D-2 Music,” Yoongi says, picking at his peach scone. “Managing other artists is my focus these days. Been writing my whole life, though.”
“What do you like to write about?” You take a bite of your pastry, savoring how it nearly melts in your mouth. Maybe this thing isn’t that bad; good food and good conversation. Besides, this Yoongi is totally intriguing to you.
“Dreams, depression, obsession.” Yoongi steadily holds your gaze, and you don’t look away.
“Refreshing.”
“I get that a lot.” Yoongi takes a sip of his mimosa, before making a face and putting it back down.
“No, but seriously. I hate pretending, most of all. Perfection doesn’t exist, and a lot of people can’t get a grip on that.” You shrug, wiping your mouth with one of the provided lavender napkins. “It is refreshing that you don’t seem to give a crap about others.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi smiles, and you think it’s a good look on him. It doesn’t fade even after what he says next. “We’re not going to be a match, are we?”
In that moment, you can confidently say that you are both the same exact person, and while it feels so good to finally speak with someone who might remotely understand exactly what you are, you know it can never be a sustainable relationship. The two strong-minded pessimists that you both are would only clash or just further bring each other down, in the end. So you return his smile, not a hint of sorrow in it.
“Probably not.” Both of you clink your champagne classes together and drink on it, before collectively gagging at the taste.
“Time’s up, people! Please bid your partners adieu and get on to your next table!” Jin’s voice breaks out through his microphone, and immediately, the music resumes as the frenzy starts all over again.
You stand up, smoothing out your skirt and looking over at Yoongi, who stays seated, taking his own time finishing his scone. “Catch you later, Hot Topic.”
“Likewise, Mary-Jane.” Yoongi snickers, tilting his head up in a casual goodbye.
You make your way to your new assignment, and as you approach, you remember him. The next person sitting there is the final candidate that Hyunjin had shown you, the one with the rather squirrely look to him. You have to admit, however, that he isn’t bad-looking, with wavy brown bangs falling into his eyes and a soft smile painting his features. He looks simple, a pretty boy waiting for a girl. You feel like you’re reading a picture book with a happy ending, because there are no puzzles to stay sleepless over. You see the bistro table becoming a kitchen counter, frequented for coffee talk and family dinners— there is no smoke-cracked glass desk that costs more than your entire salary. And you’re not Pygmalion sculpting Galatea, the gender bended Grecian rendition of the Hyunjin who plagues your thoughts; instead, you can see the elementary construction paper dotted with finger-painted sunny skies.
“Hi,” you greet, dragging out your chair and locking eyes with the stranger. Strangely, you don’t feel that telltale thump of your heartbeat in your panting chest— you sense a steady rhythm, and perhaps you could get used to it. Think: the picture book over the puzzle. You like staying in check and control— Hyunjin doesn’t allow you that power, no matter how unknowingly he keeps it for himself.
“Hi,” he responds. “I, uh, thought you had a nice smile in your picture. It’s even better in real life.”
You stay unfazed; compliments don’t affect you much— when they come from anyone but Hyunjin. Still, it’s a cute try, and you decide to dig in deeper. To you, directness is key— again, when dealing with anyone but Hyunjin.
You slide your finger down the damp side of your champagne flute, tracing a haphazard shape in the water drops. The man falls quiet again, and you don’t bother saying anything else, just taking him in. You don’t have much experience with conversation loaded with romantic intent, and this holds true even with your infamous ex-boyfriend.
Park Jisung had spied you at a holiday festival on your college campus, and then proceeded to ask you out. It was pretty unceremonious, to say the least, and thinking in hindsight, you can’t remember a time when he actually tried to get to know you. You were so enamored with him that you didn’t bat an eye, not even when he insisted on having sex with you on your very first date. And it was also your very first time, actually— but you didn’t question it. And the sex? It was over in less than five minutes and he left right after he finished, but it just felt nice to be wanted, for once.
In the following months, you realized that when he wasn’t sleeping with you, Jisung was in his own world. You barely existed to him, while you memorized his Chipotle order and silently bought new soap for him when it ran out. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he just wanted a warm body in his bed to replace the other ones he’d fucked with all day.
“You should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away on a regular basis,” the man blurts out, snapping you out of your depressing Jisung-reverie.
You bite back a snort— looks like Mr. Worldwide Handsome has new competition for the corniest person at this place. “Thank you.”
He coughs, no doubt embarrassed by his poorly executed pick-up line. “Sorry. I can’t help it. Pretty people make me nervous.”
“You’re pretty too.” You shrug nonchalantly as the man blushes. “What’s your name?”
“Han Jisung.”
You nearly throw the champagne in his face. “Come again?”
“Jisung. My name is Jisung.”
You clench your fists under the table, trying not to break something. Of all the people in this world— of all the fucking names in this world— you just had to get set-up with a guy who shares the same name as a monster who did nothing but hurt you. What the fuck, universe? You glance at your phone screen peeking out of your purse— there are still four minutes left in this stupid round.
“Hey, is everything good?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” You look up, giving him a venomous smile. Screw the picture book. “What do you like to do in your free time, Han Jisung? Don’t tell me you like to day-drink and play beer pong.”
“I’m not really a drinker. And you can just call me Ji-”
“Tell me, Han Jisung, is your zodiac sign Aquarius? And do you work in tech? Do you work for SM Tech? Do you?” You inquire without a break, gulping down your glass before refilling it with more of that horrendous champagne. The angel on your shoulder implores you not to project your ex-boyfriend’s personality onto the poor sucker sitting in front of you, but the devil whispers a different tune. You decide to follow the latter’s advice; raging hellfire is always more fun.
Han Jisung looks bewildered, but answers your question anyway. “Um, I'm a Virgo. I do work in tech, but with JYP Electronics.”
“Wonderful.”
“Anyway… I never got your name,” Han Jisung tries, visibly shaken by your suddenly aggressive line of questioning.
You scowl at him. “That’s because I already made the mistake of trusting someone like you, Han Jisung.”
There’s still a few seconds left in the round timer, but you don’t pay any mind to it. Your social battery has been exhausted, and all of the progress you’ve made in a long time has gone to dust in a mere five-minute parameter. You grab your bag and stalk away from the table, leaving Han Jisung staring after you, openmouthed and utterly perplexed by the unmerited hostility. But screw him— you can’t even live for a day without being reminded by your douchebag ex who traumatized the fuck out of you.
In your fury, you barely notice the rolling cart of lunch items that accidentally rams into your side. Bowls of pesto pasta fly off the cart, the roasted cherry tomatoes arching in the air in perfect semi-circles before splattering onto the pristine grass. The restaurant staff immediately attends to the mess, while the other guests just glance carelessly at the mess before continuing onto the next round. You rub your hip as Hyunjin rushes over to you.
“Darling, are you alright?” Hyunjin drapes his arm around your shoulders, gazing at you with concern. You melt into his touch for a moment, the frustration simmering with the longing inside of you. “Where were you going?”
You back away from him. “This was a bad idea. Maybe I’m not ready for this. I need more time.”
He frowns, stepping closer to you. “But—”
“Han Jisung?” You interrupt, more animosity in your tone than you intend for there to be. “You knew his name when showing me his profile.”
Hyunjin’s eyes widen in both remembrance and regret. “Oh my god. I didn’t realize— I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Even taking into account how you feel right now, you don’t want to take it out on Hyunjin. Never. “It’s not your fault. But I’ll be on my way.”
Ducking your head, you turn and walk away, furiously blinking the tears away. A small part of you wishes Hyunjin would call you back, hug you close to him and ask you to stay. But he doesn’t, because he knows his boundaries. It’s you who doesn’t know their place, because regardless of the smarting pain inside of you, you want Hyunjin to bandaid your emotional damage.
And as you pick up your pace, you realize that maybe you really are doomed to be Pygmalion, yearning for someone who no one else can even compare to, someone who’ll never be yours. No matter what sorts of grotesque demons haunt you, the most sinister of them all is the off-limits adonis who disturbs your heart even when you’re still reeling from the previous break. Han Jisung’s sunny skies woke you up from your dreams— Galatea is a fucking statue, art that will never come alive.
“Well, that was a colossal disaster.” Hyunjin covers his face with his palms and shrinks into the buttery leather upholstery of his seat.
Wonyoung glances over at him as the car starts up. “What do you mean? I think it went great. I saw a sickening amount of flirting going on. Pretty soon, you’ll be officiating a bunch of weddings.”
Hyunjin groans, shaking his head. “But did you see the way Y/N left, Wonyoung? The whole Jisung thing? God, I screwed things up colossally.”
“It’s not your job to remember the names of all of your clients’ ex-boyfriends. It was an honest mistake that we both overlooked.”
“Still.”
“Dr. Hwang, I feel like there’s more to this than you’re letting on.” Wonyoung crosses her arms. “Since when did you get so worked up over a client— over anything?”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes like a petulant child. “I’m not getting worked up.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am not.”
“Sure.” Wonyoung looks back down at her tablet, tapping away at the screen. “I’m already seeing so many matches.”
“Nice.” Hyunjin looks out the window pointedly. “It’s always fucking raining these days.”
“Dr. Hwang.”
Hyunjin ignores Wonyoung, just leaning forward to instruct the cab driver. “Actually, can you drop me off at The North End? Thanks.”
“Seriously. What is going on?” Wonyoung presses once more. “You can’t just go drinking now, not like this.”
“I’ll be fine, Ms. Jang.” Hyunjin doesn’t meet her eyes as he gets out of the car, placing a few bills covering the whole cab fare into her hands. “Get home safe.”
Before she can protest, Hyunjin closes the door and lets the drizzle envelop him, effectively ruining his new logo-motif jacquard set. But he doesn’t give a fuck as he steps into the bar like a shivering stray cat, because the stench of liquor and greasy peanuts is strong enough to incapacitate his inner fashion police.
“Bourbon, on the rocks,” Hyunjin orders glumly, looking down at his phone screen, a shot of Princess Diana on her birthday last year. She looks absolutely precious in that fluffy pink tutu that he dressed her in, a sight that never fails to make Hyunjin melt. Today, however, not even his adorably stylish puppy can cure him. He downs the whiskey the bartender sets in front of him, wincing at the burn he so rightfully deserved.
When you stormed out of the party just barely two hours ago, it took every fiber of Hyunjin’s being to not run after you. He’d wanted to ditch everyone and just kiss it better for you. He’d take you back to his apartment, run you a bath, cook you a comfort meal, and massage all of your sore spots. And then he’d cuddle with you on the couch, holding you while you fall asleep in his arms. But his stupid common sense held him back, rooting him to the spot like a big, dumb boulder.
After speaking with Seungmin, he realized how precisely he’s gone for you. And it obviously wouldn’t end well, so he decided that distance— complete professionalism— would be the way to go. Last night, he’d tried a crapload of healthy methods to try and fix himself, from watching porn to reading porn to even listening to porn on some sketchy podcast— anything to distract him from the thought of you. But nothing worked, because he wasn’t horny. No, he had an emotional boner— the worst kind of boners. In the end, he’d realized that the only way to move on from you would be get his ass out there and find someone else,a rebound— which is what he’d been dreading all along.
Therefore, he’d turned around like a fucking moron and went back to the party, listlessly floating around like a trash bag discarded on the highway. And now, he’s at some bar with high end cocktails that are just a pretentious way of saying “fuck me” to strangers.
“Hey there handsome, need company?”
Hyunjin looks to his left, where the sultry voice has originated from: a young woman— a pretty one, too. She’s wearing the kind of tight, black dress and matching coy smile that can only mean she wants one thing. Luckily, Hyunjin’s on the same page as her.
“What’s your name, darling?” Hyunjin asks her, ignoring the guilt inside his chest. That term of endearment was once reserved for you, and only you. He’d have to get over the sting of that too.
She sits down next to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and exposing the smooth skin of her neck. “Lisa.”
“Lisa,” Hyunjin repeats, signaling to the bartender for another round. “Tell me, what do you do?”
“I’m hoping it’ll be you tonight.” Lisa smirks at him, raising an eyebrow seductively.
Well. That was fast.
Hyunjin chuckles, trying not to think of the nausea rising in his stomach. He accepts the drink from the bartender, clinking his glass against Lisa’s, meeting her darkened eyes over the rim.
“I’m Hyunjin. It’s nice to meet you.”
You haven’t watched trashy Youtube videos in months, thinking you’d left that disgusting habit behind, and yet, here you are, watching said trashy Youtube videos. Today, it’s a shotgun wedding getting upstaged by one of the bridesmaids proclaiming her love for the groom. You feel an old chips packet somewhere inside the bedsheet hollow you’ve burrowed yourself into, the crumbs poking into your back like unwanted intruders. However, you just try to ignore the nasty feeling and slump into the mattress, pulling the bedcovers up so they cover your chin.
It’s been almost a full week since the matchmaking debacle that you absolutely made a spectacle of yourself at. You’ve spent the entire time drifting off to work, getting yelled at by Mark for no reason at all, and then coming home and lazing around. At this point, your gym membership must be a mere accessory, and the nearby 7-Eleven that you frequent for junk food is practically your second home. Fuck— you’re disgusted with yourself.
Resorting to self-destructive yet containable activities has always been your go-to for whenever you’ve been down— you’ll let yourself be fine with the world falling apart as long as it’s inside the confines of your humble abode. For months, however, you’d truly believed that you were past it. Hyunjin’s presence in your life inserted a certain desire inside of you— not to be better for him, but to be better because of him. Hyunjin opened your eyes to the real beauty of living, of having passion for any trade and a lust for happiness. That kind of positive outlook kept you climbing up that hill, no matter how arduous it was to maintain good spirits for the majority of the time. But as soon as a crisis hit, you bailed on your trek and fell back down the cliff.
You feel truly guilty as well, an emotion that usually got lost in the web of pity and hatred that you spun yourself into whenever you know you’ve done something wrong. Han Jisung didn’t deserve to be subjected to your outburst, you know that— that should have been reserved for the person who actually wronged you. You never actually got the chance to confront Park Jisung, not after he walked out like he didn’t just fucking break you. Deep inside, you know that you take out that inky mixture of unresolved frustration and regret on every single person who dares trigger you, even if it’s unintentional. Han Jisung was one such unfortunate target today.
A small chime alerts you to a new message, and you tear your eyes away from your laptop, reaching for your phone on your nightstand. In the notifications on your home screen, you see that it is not an email from Hyunjin like you’d unrealistically hoped for— instead, it’s a text from Yeonjun, your cousin who’s a constant thorn in your fucking side.
Yeonjun: hmm i’m thirsty :P
You: no yeonjun, i will not take you out for drinks.
Yeonjun: pretty pls w a cherry on top
You: fuck off
Yeonjun: u seem upset :(((
You: i’m having adult problems, yeonjun. leave me alone.
Yeonjun: well then i will help you with ur adult problems
Yeonjun: u know, i’m an adult too OMG
Yeonjun: come on, when have i ever not given u great advice?
Yeonjun: i missed my fucking calling in therapy. i woulda been an excellent shrink.
Yeonjun: i’m an amazing cousin who always is there for u. y/n i lysm, u know that?
Yeonjun: u know what else i love? Vodka.
Yeonjun: but i love u too <3
You: Yeonjun, stop fucking spamming me or I’m not coming.
Yeonjun: YAYY!
With a defeated sigh, you shove the blankets to the side, the cold air conditioning gripping your body like a vice. But begrudgingly, you have to admit that it feels refreshing to get out of your sweaty hideout and step into the shower, cleaning yourself up as much as you can on the outside— the inside issue can be attended to with the drinks.
A half hour later, you find yourself in a skeevy dive bar on the Westside, doing shots with your cousin, because even though he irritates you to the core, he’s all you have. You really could use that drink, anyway. But no amount of alcohol seems to mask the way your heart hangs heavier than the full moon outside. In fact, the liquid courage just manifests your sadness even more, leaving you a sniveling mess on the bar counter.
“And, he was actually really cute, you know? But I could never date him,” you sniffle, after downing your fifth drink. “It’s just, I just can’t deal with any reminders of Jisung.”
Yeonjun knocks back his vodka. “I take it back. If therapy means dealing with saps like you, I’d rather die.”
You frown at him. “It’s better than being a failing TikTok influencer. When’s the last time any of your thirst traps got views?”
Yeonjun shrugs, unbothered by your jab; he’s as used to you as you are to him. “You could’ve at least hooked up with him, if he was that cute.”
You swirl your straw in the melting ice as you get on your phone, pulling up the follow-up email in which Hyunjin had sent you online scans of the candidate profiles. Yeonjun looks over your shoulder and whistles as you zoom-in on Han Jisung’s picture. “But I’ve only ever slept with Jisung before. I may be a scary bitch, but I’m not bold enough for that.”
“At least you’re self-aware,” Yeonjun cackles. “Well, it’s only a better reason to have a one-night stand. Do you really want to give your trash ex-boyfriend the power of being the only person to have had sex with you? That’s kind of sad.”
Yeonjun makes a face, shivering in disgust, and you sock him in the elbow in retaliation. “For someone so bitchless, you really have such strong opinions about me and my love life.”
“Who says I’m bitchless?” Yeonjun grins deviously. “Besides, you’re the one who told me all this crap in the first place.”
You glance up at the ceiling, feeling an indescribable sense of loss. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind a one-night stand, though. I guess getting laid is something I kind of need right now. I need to stop letting Jisung control every aspect of my life.”
“Well, if you’re not averted to the idea, a person of interest just walked in.”
You whip around to look at the door, and of all people, Han Jisung from the matchmaking event walks in. He doesn’t notice you at the counter, just making his way over to one of the booths near the entrance and sitting down in solitude. The waiter takes his order and walks away, leaving him to put on his headphones in wait.
“I think I must be living in a social experiment.” You groan and look over at Yeonjun. “Hell if I’m sleeping with him.”
“Did you or did you not just say that you don’t want to let your ex control your life?”
You stare at Yeonjun. “I can sleep with someone else. He’s probably too scared of me anyway. I kind of verbally-knifed him the other day.”
“Please. Everything about that guy screams ‘degrade me.’ He probably liked that shit. You might as well use him as a punching bag again— this time, more productively.” Yeonjun waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.
“The fuck do you know about productivity?”
“Nada. But I do know a lot about getting a fix when needed.” Your cousin winks at you, producing a packet of condoms out of nowhere and slapping it into your palm. Before you can react, Yeonjun is already slinking off to go and flirt with a pretty girl sitting by herself on the other end of the counter. And alas, you’re left alone again. With a packet of XL condoms— Yeonjun sure is optimistic.
You glance over at said person of interest, who is currently immersed in whatever song that’s got him bopping his head to the beat, eyes closed as if in a dreamy trance. He’s not your type, for sure. But the thing is, you don’t even know what your damn type is at this point— if it wasn’t for Hyunjin’s ability to make you feel inappropriate things so vividly, you’d have thought you had fucking cobwebs down there. Speaking with Yeonjun really was a reminder that you’re still young, after years of both an emotional and physical dry spell. Emotionally, you might not be ready. Physically, however, there’s an opening, and you know it.
When you were dating Park Jisung, sex was always initiated by him. It was always for himself too, because he never cared about making you feel good. But you didn’t see it as a red flag, since you were so in love with him. You just followed him around like an innocent, lovesick puppy that was eager to please. And in the end, even that wasn’t enough.
Your first orgasm— and first experience with a deeper kind of desire— was alone, some time after your relationship ended. It was a quiet night, and you’d just fallen back onto the couch after another long, uneventful day at work. You flipped through the TV channels before settling on a network that was playing The Notebook, and despite its fame and reach, you’d never watched the movie before. Everything was normal until the main characters started kissing each other in the rain, a scene that would remain something you’d download and revisit many, many times when you were locked away in your room.
You’d never seen that level of lust before. You’d never felt it directed towards you or ever even experienced it when you discovered porn in your teenage years. Yet, these two people seemed to want each other on a whole other level, risking everything— their home, their reputation, their love— for something you’d always thought would be over in two minutes. And as your hand undid the button of your jeans and slipped down even lower, you realized just how wrong you were.
In the years that followed, you learned to become so much more comfortable with your sexuality. Hell, you have a drawer dedicated to storing your sex toys and on nights that you’d had too many glasses of wine, you wind up writing filthy erotica just for fun. However, you’d never actually considered having sex outside of a committed relationship, not until now. And in complete honesty, you really are curious about if Han Jisung is as subby as Yeonjun insinuated— if that proves to be true, you wouldn’t mind taking your pent-up Jisung-frustrations out on him. Productivity, and all.
You slap your payment down on the wooden counter, shaking it slightly, before marching towards Han Jisung’s table.
“Hey,” you start, but Han Jisung doesn’t notice you. “HEY!”
Han Jisung’s eyes fly open as he jerks in his seat and pulls off his headphones. At the sight of you approaching him so determinedly, he eyes you with both wariness and renewed interest, and you have to keep yourself from sighing exasperatedly at his hesitant desperation. You’re here for a reason, after all.
“Oh, hello. Y/N, right? I asked Hyunjin for your name after you left.” He gives you a nervous smile, brushing the bangs off of his forehead. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to say—”
“I’ll get to the point, Han Jisung.” You cut him off, ignoring the surprised expression on his face. It’s like he’s never in his life encountered a woman who knows what the hell she wants. “I want to have sex with you. What do you say?”
For a good minute, he says nothing, just gaping at you, shocked. And then he does a double-take, looking you up and down as if checking to see if you’re real.
“Is this a ploy to kidnap me and steal my organs, or something? Because when I last saw you, I got the impression that you severely disliked me.”
“No, I’m not going to steal your organs. The truth is complicated,” you scoff. “But you’re hot, and I’m over everything else, at least for tonight. Are you up for it?”
You stare Han Jisung down, making him shift in his seat. He scratches his nose and blinks at you like a trembling mouse. “I… wait. You think I’m hot?”
What an idiot. Good thing he’s pretty.
“Is that a yes?”
“Fuck yes.”
With no warning at all, you grasp his hand, pulling him out of the booth while he scrambles to grab his belongings and shove them into his pockets. You feel his gaze on the back of your neck as you drag him through the bar, walking with your chin pointed up with purpose. You wind your way between the tables expertly, but this Jisung stumbles, making you glare at him over your shoulder.
“Watch your step,” you snap.
“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at the floor as you barge into the bathroom in the back of the building, tugging him inside with you. “Wait, are we not going to your place, or—”
“Stop asking so many fucking questions, Han Jisung.” You slam the door behind you both and click the metal latch in place, leaving you both locked in the tiny room. It isn’t so cramped that there isn’t any space for movement, but it’s small enough to force you both into facing each other in a charged silence.
You eye Jisung from head to toe, taking in his baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans. He clears his throat, making you raise an eyebrow at him. “So, um, do you really have to call me by full name? Don’t you think that’s a little formal, considering what’s about to happen?”
You roll your eyes, your mind going back to the other Jisung you know. Never— there must be something to differentiate the two. You take an intimidatingly emphasized step towards him, backing him up against the wall. “No. I don’t think that’s too formal, Han Jisung.”
“But—”
“Shut the fuck up.” You trace your eyes down his body once more, gaze landing on the noticeable bulge in his pants. Bless Yeonjun— how right he was, for once. You look up, giving Jisung a mean smile. “Are you actually getting turned on right now?”
“Uh, wow—” He squeaks, as you reach your hand out and place it on his warm thigh, tracing it up his limb at a painful pace both dedicated to your desire to tease and be cautious.
“I asked you a fucking question.” You retract your hand right before it reaches its destination, glowering at him. “Answer me.”
“Just, um. I…” Jisung stammers, closing his eyes before opening them again, as if preparing himself. The honeyed tone of his skin exposes a light blush and therefore, his answer. “Ruin me, please.”
That’s all the permission you need before you’re placing your hands on Jisung’s surprisingly toned shoulders, roughly turning him around and swapping places with him, so that now you’re the one with their back to the wall.
“Han Jisung…” You speak slowly, punctuating your words with the kind of loathing that has Jisung panting like a dog waiting for a treat, eyes wide with anticipation tinged with delicious fear. “If you’re a good boy and do as you’re told, I’ll see about giving you a reward.”
“Oh my god.”
“Take off your clothes.”
Jisung nearly trips over his own two feet trying to wrestle the suddenly irksome swaths of fabric off of his body, tossing the garments onto the gross bathroom floor like he doesn’t give a fuck about getting a staph infection later. When he’s fully stripped, you trace your eyes over him in your own leisure, reveling in the way he shivers when you do. Your gaze washes over his defined abs, dipping even lower until you reach his hardened cock, flushed a pretty pink and glazed with pre-come— the condoms would come in very handy, after all.
Seeing him bared to you and your mercy rouses you up like you never thought it would; you never thought that feeling wanted yet being in control would work you up so much, but it does, and you love it beyond reason.
“You’re really something else. Getting off on me being so mean to you.” With a sadistic smirk, you cross your arms. “I bet you thought about me even after I ditched your ass at the party, didn’t you?”
“I— I did,” he admits, with a nervous giggle. “You’re so fucking hot, I just couldn’t help it. Seriously. I’m sorry if— mmph.”
You interrupt his rambling by winding your hand into his soft hair and forcing him closer to you, meeting his soft lips in a harsh kiss, one that has him moaning shamelessly into your mouth. You kiss him deeply, like you want to punish him for it, like you want to both hurt him and make him beg for more. Jisung’s lips are small but full, moving against yours in a sloppy yet heated exchange, fighting for more in an unwinnable battle; he tastes like brandy, strawberries, and the promises of a good time, and you’re drunk on it.
“You’re disgusting, Han Jisung,” you spit out, prompting a whimper from Jisung. “Get on your fucking knees.”
He wastes no time dropping to his knees and letting you lead the way, fully submitting to your tantric commands. Quickly, you clutch at his hands and direct them to where they should be, tilting your head back against the wall as Jisung satisfies your wishes. With an eagerness that doesn’t even compare to your own, Jisung loosens the knot on the elastic band of your skirt, not bothering to untie it fully before he’s tugging the skirt up so that it’s bunched around your waist.
And without you even demanding him to move faster, he’s pushing your panties aside and attaching his greedy mouth to your cunt. You nearly jerk away at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure; your ex-boyfriend never went down on you, and oh, how profoundly you’ve missed out. But you’ve researched enough to know exactly what you want.
Jisung’s eyes flick up to where you’re looking down and showering him with breathy sighs, spurring on his performance. When you shoot him a warning glare, he goes back to completely making-out with your cunt, easily spreading you apart with two of his fingers so he can focus on your throbbing clit. Jisung uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh gently, rubbing circles into the smooth skin as he works.
He delves deeper into your pussy when you run your hands through his silky hair, lapping at your arousal like it’s honey and he’s been starving for days. “You taste so good…”
Immediately, you yank back his hair and hold him in place as you start to grind onto his pretty face. “I don’t remember saying you could fucking talk.”
Jisung groans, taking every insult you hurl at him in such a measured but unbridled way. He makes up for his lack in precision with his enthusiasm, suctioning his mouth around your tender clit and swirling his tongue in patterns that have gotten you seeing the fucking stars. He lets you use him entirely, body going slack as he helps you ride out your high. The obscene sounds of Jisung slurping at your cunt fill the room as you come, gripping his head between your thighs as you feel that beautiful wave of euphoria fall over you. You pat Jisung’s shoulder in silent instruction, and he rises, cupping the sides of your arms and running his hands down them gently, soothing the way you quiver at any touch.
“Are you okay?” Jisung whispers, making you open your eyes in surprise. Your ex-boyfriend never once checked up on you, not even when you were clearly in discomfort that first time he made you his own. This complete stranger however, one that you have been anything but gracious with, inspects your face with concern. A strange feeling of warmth spreads throughout your body as you nod your head.
“I’m good. You did well.” You grasp the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head so that all you’re standing in now are your skirt and basically ruined panties. You didn’t bother with putting on a bra before you left the house, and now, you’re thankful for the decision that was ultimately a byproduct of your laziness; Jisung gazes at your body with utter reverence, like just the sight of your tits has blessed his entire life.
“Please…”
“Please what, Han Jisung?” You bite your lip, both amused and flattered by how desperate he is for your pussy. “Use your words.”
“Fuck me. Please, fuck me. I’ve been good, haven’t I?” Jisung whines sadly, clearly on the verge of tears. His cock is now rock-hard, flush against his stomach, and it turns you on so much to know that eating you out has reduced him to such a pathetic mess.
“Yes, you have…” you murmur, before jutting out your hand to hold his chin tightly. “Spit.”
Without a single protest, he obeys, a single string of saliva connecting his lips to your hand, before you’re reaching down and palming his cock. He lets out a gasp as you wrap your fingers around the base, spreading the dampness and pumping a few times for good measure, as if the mixture of his spit and your own arousal coating your pussy isn’t lubrication enough.
You take the condoms out and help Jisung slide one onto his cock, chuckling when he places his hand over yours to help quicken the process. And then you’re finally guiding him into your entrance, circling one leg around his body and caging him into your fantasies.
“Fuck—”
Jisung enters you as you both collectively moan out loud, him at how tightly your cunt clenches around him and you at how wonderfully his dick curves into you, hitting your sweet spot inside each time. Jisung cups your face as he kisses you again, but this time, it’s slower and more drawn-out, a vast juxtaposition to how rigorously he thrusts into you. You drag your nails down his back in a way that’s sure to leave marks for days to come, but he just increases his pace on your aching pussy, lost in pleasure.
You grip Jisung’s ass and squeeze at the flesh, eliciting a throaty groan from him as your sweat combined creates a sticky layer between your bodies. Your breasts are pressed against Jisung’s chest, and he ducks his head to attend to them, licking and sucking at your sensitive nipples. The heightened attention goes straight to your sweet pussy, making you buck your hips as you hold him even tighter.
“Oh god— I’m fucking— I’m gonna come—” Jisung chokes out, his movements now erratic and even more rushed, if possible.
“Not yet.” You just laugh cruelly, shaking your head. “You’re going to wait. I’m first.”
“I— I don’t think I can—”
“Suck it up like the little bitch you are, and make me come again,” you snarl, digging your nails into the arch of his ass.
He cries out, and for a brief lapse in time, you think he will not be able to outlast you, but then he slides his hand down, rubbing frantic circles onto your clit. The attempt to get you off a second time works, and the orgasm washes over you like a cool breeze in the summertime. You can’t help what escapes you next.
“HYUNJIN!”
“Did you just—”
You clench your jaw and give Jisung a menacing look, warning him of a topic that should not be broached under any circumstances. Luckily, your harsh expression just seems to spur Jisung on even more, and he follows you into ecstasy not long after, squirming in your hold. When he finally finishes, hot spurts of him coat your pussy and trembling thighs.
For a moment, Jisung slumps against you limply, and you let him, enjoying that blanket of heat and protection against your exposed skin, another gift you’ve never been given before. But then you remember that’s all he is to you— a body that has warmed you up for one night. You don’t feel guilty though, because you never did offer more than you could actually give.
You pat Jisung’s back, prompting him to draw back and give you a fucked-smile. His bangs are plastered against his forehead in a sweaty mess, and his skin is tinged pink from his great efforts to please you. It’s a sight that you’ll be tucking away in your memories for any future lonely nights.
After putting your blouse back on, you walk over to the sink as Jisung just stays leaning against the wall. Wetting a paper towel with some water, you run it between your thighs and clean up the remnants of Jisung’s come smeared there. And then you pull your skirt down and help Jisung, because no matter how you don’t see him as more than a fling, he is still significant to you. He’s the first person to make you come and show you that physical care that you’ve been craving for so long, and that amounts to something. Besides, you’d never just toss someone aside after using them so intimately, not like your ex did with you.
You get a fresh towel for Jisung, placing it against his forehead to cool his heated skin while assisting him in putting his clothes back on. When you both are completely dressed, you place a chaste kiss on Jisung’s lips and give him a small smile, before turning for the door.
“I’ll be on my way now, Han Jisung.”
Jisung leaps forward quickly, grabbing your head before it can reach the doorknob. “Hey, I know you said this was just a one-night, but can’t we maybe get dinner or something?”
“Jisung.” The plain name is still sour on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “We aren’t going to work. This isn’t going to happen again.”
“Wait. Are you just, like, crazy edging me right now?”
Shaking your head, you let out a tired laugh. “No, I’m not. Look, I think you’re a really nice guy. I’m sorry for how I treated you at the party last week. You definitely didn’t deserve that, and I definitely still need to resolve my own issues. I’m sure there’s some other sexy lady out there just waiting to dom your pretty face off. You deserve better than me.”
You leave Jisung speechless, finally getting out of the bathroom. You have a very important meeting tomorrow, one that you absolutely cannot miss. Besides, he really does deserve better than you, someone who definitely doesn’t make his whole life an enigma. Someone who doesn’t have the same impact on him as Hyunjin does on you.
And in your post-coital clarity, you also finally accept that there will be no compromising with your feelings for Hyunjin. You’re falling in love with him, so much that even when another man is balls-deep in you, he’s all you can think of. It’s so profound that it hurts, the thought of never being able to fuck him into oblivion like you just did with Han Jisung. You can never have those nights with him in dirty bathrooms, or the ones tangled up in bedsheets for hours at an end. Late night conversations about the banalities of life and playful interviews about where he buys his amazing clothing will never be yours. You’re playing a dangerous game, ignoring your feelings like they’re a hazy insect that will eventually buzz away. Because you know they won’t. They’ll come back to sting you.
As you beeline for the bar exit, you run straight into Yeonjun, who seems to have been waiting for you all along. And by the looks of the Cheshire grin on his face, he knows exactly what you’ve been up to.
“I knew his dick was big.”
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
“So… want to talk about last week?”
“There’s not much to talk about.” You shrug, toying with the hem of your dress. It’s green, a new look from the various shades of pinks that you donned whenever visiting Hyunjin. The change doesn’t feel refreshing— really, it’s restricting and strange, somehow. Like it doesn’t belong on you.
Hyunjin sighs, getting up from his fancy chair to sit down next to you. So understanding, so caring, so gentle. Everything you don’t deserve and that you will never have. “Darling, please. Open up to me.”
You snap, looking at him directly. “I had sex with Han Jisung.”
Closing your eyes, you lift your up palm, effectively silencing whatever you know that Hyunjin was about to say. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. You have to mend the cracks before you break completely. Again. It’s now or never, no matter how much it will hurt you to do so.
“And I think we should stop seeing each other.”
«NEXT CHAPTER» · «GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
AUTHOR'S NOTE Here she is!! We're 2/5 of the way there 💪 Thank you for all of the love for this series! And again, I apologize for the atrocious wait-time. Please leave your thoughts, I don’t really mind if you leave a whole essay ;) -Dreamy
TAGLIST @skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahhspider @8makes1scream @jetblackbelle @143hyunes @raginghellfire @sinforsuccubus @lixiesw1fe @chartrucewhore @freckleboilix @ultimatestayandminoronce @cheesytangerine @leyknowsbin @stay278 @strawberry-dreamland @lvrgrl-xo @moasworld @hyunnielix @httphans @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @1clickawayfrominsane @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @moasworld @kykeu @sxlxna ***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***
If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!
NETWORKS @kflixnet @k-films
©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.
#stray kids smut#skz smut#kflixnet#k-labels#straykidsland#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x you#neverendingdreams#hyunjin x y/n#han jisung smut#jisung smut#anti-romantic#stray kids fic#skz fic#hyunjin fic#stray kids#skz#kpop imagines#skz au#kpop fic#stray kids au#k-films
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A 9-1-1 Fic: Bones!AU
Summary:
“I’m Dr. Evan Buckley, an anthropologist working for the National History Museum in Los Angeles. I’ve been in Guatemala for about two months, helping a very renowned and well-regarded colleague, mind you, to identify victims of a genocide. Including that one on your table right there.”
He pointed to the skull in question, the same one that got him into this mess.
-/-
AKA Buck is Dr Brennan, but he's not, he's still Buck
Rating: Mature
Main Ship: Pre-Buddie
Warnings: Some descriptions of (staged) intimacy NOT between Buddie to gather information, inaccurate depictions of PTSD, and the Typical Crime Show Warnings; depictions of murder, death, substances, crime, violence, etc.
As what has been hinted, here is the Bones AU I've been working on.
Shoutout to my pocket friends @nibblyssacrifice & @bluroux who beta-read this - literally could not have made the final editing for this fic any smoother 💜💜💜
Read here
There's also a (really short) snippet you can preview below.
... “Not a sociopath,” he denied. “Just not neurotypical.” “I feel like I should know what that means,” the officer had said it with an odd inflection, he noticed, which led Buck to believe that the man knew exactly what he’d meant, but for some reason was choosing not to disclose that fact. It was that insight that held him back from spilling out the wealth of information he had on the matter. Instead, Buck was left feeling a little bit wary. “I’ll send you a few audiobooks on it after you tell me how we can make this go faster. I’m missing lunch with my sister,” he shrugged, restraining himself from narrowing his eyes at the man, wondering if the officer’s slow reading was part of a farce too. As if answering his thoughts, Buck saw movement from the corner of his eyes. Leaning against the doorway was the figure of man he could hardly forget, and even with those shades he could feel that heavy gaze on him. “What are you doing here?” he squawked, mouth gaping at the unexpected visitor. Said visitor merely took off his aviators and walked in, brandishing his badge in one motion — face carefully neutral as he introduced himself to the room, “FBI, Special Agent Edmundo Diaz. Major Crime, Los Angeles.” He tipped his head in Buck’s direction. “Dr. Buckley here identifies remains for us.” Nonplussed, Buck amended. “I do more than just identify by the way.” “He also does podcasts.” Without missing a beat, a smartphone was brought out from that form-fitting suit coat he was wearing. Buck could only stare as the agent proceeded to carelessly toss the device over and across the table, somehow managing to land the thing safely in the other officer’s hands in a perfect arc. “That one’s pretty popular among the kids and college students. ‘Voices from the Vertebrae’, don’t know if you’ve heard of it.” Fully offended, Buck scrunched his nose. “Rude.” ...
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🚨🚨🚨🚨NEW GENSHIN OC ALERT 🚨🚨🚨🚨
His name is Xihuitl and he is a pyro catalyst, Ball player from Natlan :3
(More info under the cut)
OK SO. I’m really really really pleased with the result of this new character. I myself am Mexican, so when it was confirmed Natlan has soooome influence from Mexico, I decided to make him.
Xihuitl is a “Ball player”. The sport I am referring to is a traditional game/ritual performed in some regions of Mesoamerica, what today is mostly Mexico (Guatemala and Honduras too, but I’m not sure in the specifics). It goes by multiple names: tlachtli or ollamalistli in Nahuatl, pitz in classic Mayan.
His name means comet in Nahuatl. I chose this name bcs I imagine his attacks as him blasting enemies away with fire balls, but as if he was playing his sport.
His design has influences from both Mexica (his clothing), Mayan (body paint) and modern Mexican culture. The feathers he wears are Quetzal, a bird typical from the geographical zone these cultures are from.
As for his personality and back story? Well, I haven’t thought much about it. I just know he is a himbo, leaning more towards jock. Also he would be best friends with Itto and be super enthusiastic about his beetle fights.
That’s all for now!
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Sometimes I get culture shock from going from MCYT's space where people freak out about like, 18 year olds drinking with 20 somethings to behind the bastards where Robert Evans is talking about his young adulthood traveling Guatemala and he's talking about the bar owner they were staying with and it's just,
And sometime like there was this other guy who owned a bar in Guatemala who was a former highway patrol officer from Arizona, UM and said that It's one of the first things he told me when I met him, was like, "I used to be a highway patrol officer in Arizona and I can never go back now." And he clearly had in the recent past, had a couple of hundred grand to spend on buying a hotel with a bar, and those two things were connected. Yeah, he was a cricket highway patrol officer, yes, And and he was also like the big drug dealer in town, which I'm sure also tied into why he's no longer a highway patrol office. He saw a business opportunity and it was like, I don't want to be in law anymore, I want to run a shady ass bar that gets European kids dangerously intoxicated on their holidays, And that's what he did. My last memory of this guy is because he also had a seventeen year old wife who had just given birth- [...] My last memory of that cop was he had his baby on a bassinet around his chest, and he was shirtless other than the baby he was wearing. And he was leaning over the counter of his bar with a jar of mushrooms preserves and honey, and he was spooning them into a naked Danish boy's mouth.
And this is someone who Robert is describing fondly. It's just jarring sometimes.
#sif speaks#mcyt#it really gets wild to go between this and knowledge fight#I think so many mcyt fans would fucking die listening to half of robert evans' shit and call him like the worst human being alive#and meanwhile he's an actual leftist out there advocating for Palestine and getting his hand broken by nazis and shit
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At this point, as a first generation American whose immigrant family has been through hell...I'm not willing to talk to people who are xenophobic.
Just did a fact-check on some lies about illegal immigrants being given good jobs, free housing, free health insurance, and kicking students out of schools so they could live there in exchange for voting Democrat. I don't like being lied to. I also don't insist something is true to other people unless I know it is. Spreading rumors about entire races being violent rapists getting freebies is how you incite violence (it also sounds exactly like what they say about black people- whether citizen or not.)
That's how you get here :
Trump did nothing about immigration he tanked the economy and got like a million Americans killed by mismanaging the pandemic. Then even more when MAGA clowns decided to convince each other not to wear masks and get vaccinated. Does no one remember what Trump did in office. He singlehandedly brought neo-nazi's to mainstream politics. He did everything wrong yet Im supposed to think Biden was worse because house REPUBLICANS wouldn't sign a bi-partisan bill to address immigration?
If you are anti-immigration you should maybe read the fine print where it says you've now subscribed to white supremacy. Meaning you won't be helping Palestine by doing legwork for Trump/Maga. Meaning you wont be helping working class American's and the homeless by slut shaming Kamala and lying about her record as an Attorney General. Wont stop illegal immigration without acknowledging America's hand in them fleeing their countries which ironically is what Kamala was trying to do in El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala. I know it's nice to think America has nothing to do with South America but we do.
The only reality is that either Trump becomes a Dictator and ruins the life of anyone who isn't a conservative rich WM or Kamala wins and Democracy lives on.
A Trump Dictatorship will not help Palestine. There are valid ways to help. Share the links, show up at rallies to raise your voice, do the boycotts, DONATE some money.
#fully over the nonsense#get out there and actually help them#otherwise stop spreading lies and right wing propaganda about Kamala#kamala harris
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Some quotes from TAWOG because this conversation fits Tang’s backstory in this AU.
Tang: Ok I’ll start…you have always been disappointed in me…
Tang’s Mom: Only because we loved you.
Tang: NO! Because you always had insane expectations for me, like how you let me wear those ridiculous clothes my whole life!
Tang’s Mom: In life you have to dress for the job you want.
Tang: Don’t you think you started a little early?
*Flashback*
Doctor: Congratulations both of you, it’s a…
Tang: Bah!
Doctor: CEO?
*End Flashback*
Tang’s Mom: Well you were hardly EASY yourself, remember that finger painting you did for Mother’s Day?
Tang: Well maybe it all comes back to the STUPID name you gave me!
Bai He: Uh…What’s wrong with Tang?
Tang: Tang is a middle name, my first name is DOCTOR!
*both Mei and Bai He chuckle a bit*
Tang: Oh it’s all very funny until someone shouts, ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’ And your parents say ‘yes!’ Turns out people choking on a chicken wing rarely stay conscious long enough to enjoy the punchline!
Tang’s Dad: But we only wanted the best for you!
Tang: Wha-like the time I needed a blood transfusion and you gave me the wrong BLOOD TYPE?!
Tang’s Dad: Why settle for B- when you can have A+?
Tang: NOTHING WAS EVER ENOUGH! You forced me to join a gazillion after-school clubs!
Tang’s Mom: We gave you every possible chance to succeed!
Tang: YEAH! All at the same time!
Tang: What kind of childhood was that?! I was only 8 years old…
Tang’s Dad: Well at that age I was only 10!
*Tang smashes the bowl in his hands*
Tang’s Mom: See that’s your problem, you always let your anger get the better of you!
Tang’s Dad: I spent years fixing the consequences of your outbursts!
Tang: Oh please, there’s nothing a child can do that can’t be fixed with a bit of duct tape!
Tang’s Dad: What about the time you kicked the neighbor’s car?
*Flashback*
*Tang’s father struggles to fix the car but runs away as the car breaks down.*
*End Flashback*
Tang: Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad!
Tang’s Dad: You kidding me you landed the kid in the hospital!
*Flashback to a teen being taken to the hospital after he fell on an ambulance bed*
Tang’s Dad: Literally…not to mention you stole our car to see your boyfriend and LANDED IN COURT!
*Flashback to him driving the car on top of the judge just milliseconds as he left the podium.*
Tang: Oops…
*End Flashback*
Tang’s Dad: Again literally…
Tang: What else was I supposed to do?! You always disapproved of Pigsy! You never thought he was good enough for me!
Tang’s Mom: That is not true!
*Tang points outside the window*
Tang: Really? Still trying to set me up with some banking dweeb?
Tang’s Mom: No offense, but we always thought he could do better than a man with a dead-end family job tradition who got their pants at the army’s surplus store…in the parachute isle.
Pigsy: So you approve your son is gay but still have problems on what type of man he dates? What about your other son?
Tang’s Mom: he’s a failure to the end.
Pigsy: I see why Tang hates you.
Tang: Oh please they never even came to our wedding!
Tang’s Mom: We did! We went to Rusvup!
Tang: What?!
Tang’s Mom: On your invite it said Rusvup!
Tang: No mom, it said RSVP.
Tang’s Mom: Oh right, so we went to the town of RSVP in Moldavia.
Tang’s Mom: I was the only woman in the region, everyone tried to marry even a dog!
Tang: Wait, is that why you sent Pigsy and I divorce papers for our 1st anniversary?
Tang’s Mom: No, that was because you sent me retirement home leaflets for my 70th birthday! WITH GLITTER!
Tang: Well that’s because you tried to ship Pigsy to Guatemala!
Pigsy: That was them?!
Tang’s Dad: NO! That was because you used your power of attorney at us, and got us committed for SIX WEEKS!
Tang: NO! That was because you paid for our honeymoon but replaced Pigsy with a neurosurgeon!
Pigsy: How the fu-
Tang’s Dad: No that was after-! After…uhh…uh…I don’t remember…
*Tang crosses his arms and looks away from his parents*
Tang: We were at peace…Dad Mom…SEPARATELY…
(This takes place after Season 6, Pigsy and Tang get married in Season 5 {The FANMADE versions}, also yes Tang was a menace when he was younger. I also added some dialogue and cut a few to fit the scene)
#lmk au#lego monkie kid#time bone swap au#lmk lady bone demon#lmk bai he#lmk tang#lmk pigsy#lmk mei#lmk
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There Is No God But Death
Walking downtown in the Zócalo district can be overwhelming: A thousand sights, sounds, and smells bombard your senses. The beautiful, wafting scent of freshly baked conchas clashes with the nearby stink of dog shit. A motorcycle nearly runs over my foot as I make my way among other pedestrians, street performers, and vendors. I keep my hands in both pockets in case someone tries to lift my phone or wallet. In the heart of downtown is a well-traveled street full of regional restaurants, perhaps for Mexicans who moved to the big city but miss the kind of food their mother back home would make. Grasshopper tacos are available, if that sounds appealing. As I sit and enjoy my meal I can see a life size statue on the corner, looming over those passing by. She is tall and thin, merely a skeleton, robed in black and unmoving. At her feet people have left offerings of coins and candy. To someone from the U.S, she resembles the Grim Reaper, missing only a scythe. Who is she and why is she here?
Unlike many Western cultures that do their best to ignore death or mitigate it through heaven or salvation, death has always been a part of life in Mexico. The Aztecs saw death as meaningful because it could serve a greater purpose: Dying in battle or childbirth was a death that brought honor both to the individual and society. Human sacrifice kept the universe running. Death was never far from any living thing, the Aztecs might have reasoned, so it is foolish to pretend otherwise. The skulls in modern day Mexican life and art are a modern adaptation of that memento mori mentality.
The modern worship of Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte, or “Our Lady of Holy Death”, is also an extension of that worldview. Death is the only certainty in life and yet most of us try to avoid thinking about it. And yet the followers of Santa Muerte put death at the center of their faith. It is believed that one of the first worshippers of Santa Muerte asked for deliverance for a very sick loved one that was suffering (if this is beginning to sound like the Many-Faced God from Game of Thrones, that’s because it basically is). But then over time, followers of Santa Muerta began to ask Death for things they wanted in life: To find a job, a partner, protection from one’s enemies. At times, Santa Muerte wears different color robes and these signify different things people ask of her: Gold for wealth, red for love, black for protection against black magic. Believers leave offerings at the base of statues in exchange for her protection and blessings: Money, soda, fruit, cigarettes.
“The Skinny One”, as she is also known, exists outside the official organization of the Catholic Church. The church leadership does not accept the cult of Santa Muerte as legitimate Catholic practice, calling it “pagan” and “death worship”. Perhaps the church does not like the great focus on death when their doctrine teaches that for the faithful, heaven is the ultimate destination. Because the Skinny One is an outsider of the official Mexican religious establishment, she attracts outsiders as followers: Sex workers, thieves, and cartel members. It has been reported that drug traffickers brought their guns to a ceremony in Mexico City so their weapons would be blessed by Santa Muerte. This known association with undesirable elements does not help her reputation with the more mainstream masses.
But what is the history of this shadowy saint? Are her origins Catholic, traditional or more contemporary? As is often the case in Mexico, it is a little bit of everything.
Journalist Daniel Hernandez, an important source for this post, writes:
"Some believe the image is a descendant from pre-Hispanic times, on the lineage of the Aztec god Mictlantecuhtli. Anthropologists maintain the Santa Muerte is a refashioning of San Pascual Rey, a Catholic saint with a long cult history in the Mayan lands of Chiapas and Guatemala, and whose traditional image is a frightening skeleton. Historican Claudio Lomnitz casts Santa Muerte's following in an economic light, arguing that it exploded after the onset of the American Free Trade Agreement, when the northern exodus of Mexican migrants across the border really took off."
Wherever she came from, Santa Muerte is incredibly popular in ways the traditional church is not, so the Skinny One is here to stay. I am not a religious person, but passing by I place a few coins at her feet and ask her to not let Donald Trump be re-elected. I don’t believe in these types of things, but “when in Rome, do as the Romans do.” Whether I like it or not, I am living in her country now. It never hurts to make friends.
This privately owned shrine in Mexico City has public services twice a month.
The Big Three (from right to left): Saint Judas, a popular saint in Mexico City, Santa Muerte, and Jesús Malverde, a "Robin Hood" style figure who is venerated by drug traffickers.
#Santa Muerte#Religion#CDMX#Mexico#MexicoCity#Syncretism#Folklore#Catholicism#LatinAmerica#LatinAmericanreligion
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Semana Santa Spain
Semana Santa is observed annually in Spain during the week immediately before Easter and this year it takes place from April 2 to 9. Also known as Holy Week, Semana Santa is observed by Catholics to commemorate the Passion of Jesus Christ, his suffering, and death on the cross. Throughout the week, religious brotherhoods and fraternities carry out penance processions through the streets of almost every Spanish city and town. These activities attract visitors from outside Spain and are often advertised in hand guides and international fairs.
History of Semana Santa Spain
Semana Santa commemorates the Passion of Christ, that is, the suffering of Jesus before his crucifixion. The term ‘passion’ derives from the Latin verb ‘patior’ or ‘passus sum,’ meaning to ‘endure,’ ‘suffer,’ or ‘bear.’ In Catholic tradition, this often refers to specific events from the Christian Bible, such as the ‘Triumphant Entry’ of Jesus into Jerusalem. He rode into Jerusalem on the foal of a donkey, and as he did, the people greeted him as the Jewish Messiah, the ‘Son of David.’
When he arrived, he went into the Jerusalem temple and expelled the money changers who were doing business there. Later, Jesus and his disciples shared a meal known as the ‘Last Supper,’ from where Judas Iscariot left to betray Jesus to the religious leaders of Israel. Another important event was Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, where he prayed until his sweat became like drops of blood. Immediately after this, he was arrested and put on trial, then unjustly declared guilty. Jesus was subsequently crucified, but after three days, he rose again.
Religious brotherhoods and fraternities hold penance processions through the streets of Spain during Holy Week. The participants or brothers typically use conical hooded penitent gowns to conceal their faces. They wear shackles on their feet and carry wooden crosses or candles. The ‘pasos,’ which floats with sculptures that depict scenes from the Passion of Christ or the Sorrows of the Virgin Mary, are another fascinating aspect of the processions. Typically, marching bands, or ‘marchas procesionales’ in Spanish, accompany the floats. Holy Week in Spain is more than just a religious celebration; it also draws visitors from worldwide who come to see the processions. Typically, the processions are advertised at significant international fairs, hand guides, and on T.V.
Semana Santa Spain timeline
Eighth Century The Reconquista Begins
During the Reconquista, Christian kingdoms expel Muslim Moors from the Iberian Peninsula.
1478 The Spanish Inquisition is Formed
The Spanish Inquisition is established to combat heresy in Spain.
1521 The Stations of the Cross are Institutionalized
After returning from the Holy Land, the Marques de Tarifa establishes the ‘Via Crucis,’ Stations of the Cross, in Spain.
1851 The State Adopts Catholicism
Catholicism becomes the official state religion of Spain with the signing of the Concordat of 1851.
Semana Santa Spain FAQs
What is Easter called in Spain?
Easter is called ‘Pascua’ in Spain.
What foods are eaten during Semana Santa?
Popular meals eaten during Semana Santa include Torrijas, Potaje de Vigilia, Roscos Fritos, Sopa de Ajo, and Mona de Pascua.
What other countries celebrate Semana Santa?
Mexico, Colombia, El Salvador, Bolivia, Guatemala, Brazil, Ecuador, Paraguay, and others.
Semana Santa Spain Activities
Learn from Christ’s life
Watch a parade
Love others
There are many lessons to learn from the life of the humble Christ. Take a moment to read one of the Gospels and discover what unconditional love means.
Whether or not you’re in Spain, you can take advantage of online platforms to stream one of the parades. Get a feel of the processions and see why it’s such a huge attraction.
While Christ was on earth, he exemplified true and abiding love. This Holy Week, commit to showing love in action, speech, and thought.
5 Amazing Facts About Spain
Spain borders Africa
It’s home to the second most-spoken language
Spain practices a constitutional monarchy
Other languages are spoken
Spain was once a Muslim country
Out of all the European countries, Spain is the only one that shares a border with an African country, which happens to be Morocco.
With over 500 million speakers, Spanish is the second most-spoken language in the world.
Although Spain is a democratic country, it also has a monarch — the current one being King Felipe VI.
Languages other than Spanish spoken in Spain include Celtic, Basque, Occitan, and Catalan.
Between 711 A.D. and 1492, Al-Andalus, as Spain was previously called, was under the control of Islamic Moors from North Africa.
Why We Love Semana Santa Spain
Christ paid the ultimate price
Christ touched many lives
Christ’s followers heal the world
Jesus gave himself as a sacrifice for sins, offering his life and blood. He consented to the worst kind of beating, spitting, and killing, to demonstrate selfless love to everyone who accepts him as Lord.
While on earth, Jesus left footprints in the lives of all who met him. He lifted the oppressed, healed the sick, and raised the dead. Till today, his impact on the world has not diminished.
Jesus set an example for his followers, teaching them to love enemies and do good to all. This peaceful lifestyle can be seen perpetuated by Christ’s followers in our world today, centuries after his ascension to heaven.
Source
#Los Heraldos del Encuentro by Alvaro de la Vega#Semana Santa#Holy Week#Viveiro#Galicia#Northern Spain#Southern Europe#travel#vacation#Igrexa de San Francisco#sculpture#public art#original photography#Spain#España#summer 2021#tourist attraction#landmark#I know they're not that but I still get an uneasy feeling looking at them#they're looking gar too similar#Palm Sunday#start of the holy week#2 April 2023
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* ‘ ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 !
General
Name: Dr. Evander Lysandros Sidaris Age: 30s Gender: Male Species: Human Nationality: Greek Occupation: Archaeologist, Egyptologist (he has two Ph.D.s, what a nerd)
Hobbies & Interests
Collecting and cataloging antiques (he has quite the impressive teapot, stamp and book collection!).
Cooking, baking.
Tea.
Writing, reading.
Gardening, botany.
Antique teapots. His teapots are sacred. Don’t touch them.
Personality traits
Sweet, caring, gentle.
Lighthearted, often seeing the positive side of things.
Pacifist; dislikes (and often avoids) conflict… which isn't always a good thing.
Polite and friendly.
Thoughtful.
Intelligent and curious, with a deep love of learning.
Creative and imaginative, with a passion for storytelling.
Sensitive and empathetic.
Comfortable with solitude; in fact, he often prefers it.
A bit of an oddball.
Tends to get overly passionate about certain topics.
Has a habit of getting lost in his thoughts and daydreams (don’t mind him staring off into the distance…).
Tends to skip small-talk (goodness, he really struggles with small-talk and can be a little... awkward) and launch into monologues about topics he's passionate about… even if he’s just met you 5 minutes ago. He is a chronic info-dumper and oversharer.
Afraid of public speaking. Whenever he has to give a lecture or presentation, he is a blushing, stammering mess and tries to hide behind his notes.
Doesn’t drink alcohol and if he does, oh boy.
Goes into hyperfocus when immersed in his interests or research.
He cannot STAND perfume. It gives him a headache and makes him nauseous (hello, sensory sensitivity). Natural scents are fine.
Trivia
Vegetarian.
Has a faint Greek accent.
Very intelligent. Also very awkward.
Doesn’t have a car or a driver’s license – but he has a green old vintage bicycle!
Afraid of heights. Avoids tall buildings and bridges.
Is a bit superstitious and equally fascinated and terrified of the paranormal. He has seen some eerie things that made him question his own sanity.
Has a knack for finding hidden meanings and symbolism in the artifacts he discovers.
Has a soft spot for animals and has volunteered at animal shelters in the past.
Has a talent for languages and can speak several fluently, including Latin, Ancient Greek, and Sanskrit. He enjoys studying the etymology of words and their cultural significance.
Always Carries a Notebook.
Paces when thinking.
His antiques and books are organized in a specific way, and if you take a book you gotta put it back IN THE EXACT SAME SPOT OK!!?
Usually wears eccentric tweed suits. Colorful (bow)ties and socks are a MUST.
Needs reading glasses, but constantly misplaces them.
Physical appearance
Blonde, long curly hair, kinda messy, often tied back in a ponytail or bun.
Sun-kissed skin, faint freckles.
Bright blue eyes.
1.81m.
He has a few minor scars on his arms and hands from his field work.
Lean “dad bod”.
Style: Classic, sophisticated, “professor core”; comfortable, knitted pullovers and cardigans, tweed suits; earthy colors but always with a pop of color.
Background
Evander grew up in a small Greek town where he developed a love for history and archaeology at a young age. His parents (his mother being a history teacher, his father a librarian) were both supportive of his interests and encouraged him to pursue his passion.
He began his career as an archaeologist working on local sites and eventually landed a job as a field archaeologist.
He has worked on various archaeological sites around the world, including in Mexico, Peru, Guatemala, and finally Egypt. Some of his notable works include working at the ancient Mayan city of Tikal in Guatemala. After earning his first Ph.D. in archaeology, he worked in Egypt and spent several years working on various excavation sites throughout the country, including the famous Valley of the Kings, before eventually getting his second Ph.D. and securing a position as a lead archaeologist and Egyptologist.
After many years of working as a field archaeologist, Evander began to feel burnt out from the constant travel and after a… particularly dangerous adventure, he decided to settle down and start a new chapter in his life. He currently works at the local museum where he spends his time researching and cataloging ancient artifacts.
Apartment
Evander's apartment is small but cozy. His bookshelves are filled with antique tomes, archaeological texts, antiques, books, one shelf is designated to his extensive teapot collection.
He has a green thumb and enjoys tending to a variety of potted plants, which are scattered throughout the apartment and even spill out onto his small balcony. There are herbs growing in the kitchen, small succulents on the windowsills, and even a few hanging baskets suspended from the ceiling.
His desk is always quite chaotic and a little cluttered with books, journals, and scrolls.
A few small trinkets and artifacts are scattered about the desk as well.
Evander's cat Cleo usually lounges on his floral couch in his living room.
#* 📚 muse: ╰ ‘ ˗ˏˋ 𝐃𝐑. 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 !#muse info#oc info#original character#multifandom oc#dc oc#marvel oc#fandomless oc#dc rp#marvel rp#fantasy rp
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Chapter 2 Act 5: Hotel Havoc
With GG’s latest plan having been a success (somewhat), the search for the rest of the rogue’s gallery and to clear Terry’s name was on harder than ever and with a simple description of their next target, He knew just where to go
“Well, I’ll hand it to you” Terry said “this is the most obvious choice” as the duo stepped into the borders of Guatemala city,
"Now, let’s get going!" GG shouted aloud as the duo began to wander about the place
Unfortunately, they didn't notice a row skulls lined up on one of the shop's display, most were decorative, but one was listening, it's eyes glowed as it hopped to a walkie-talkie and relayed the information it heard to the person on the other side
atop a high building,the sombrero and mask wearing Bounty hunter, Emelia Esqueleto was staking out the city, when she suddenly heard a chattering of teeth over her walkie-talkie
"Dios mio!" She responded to the Skull's warning "Wally was right, and that's a first, they really are after us!" With another bout of chatter, the skull responded "not to worry, I have a plan…"
"How will they understand you? Just keep your walkie talkie discreet and I'll do the talking"
"No, Hierba won't recognize my voice, i'll make sure to use a filter"
"How I can understand you? por el amor de Dios, you're always such a nitpicker, Jeremy"
Meanwhile, they duo searched and searched hard
They searched the streets, the parks, on the bridges, below the bridges, in the restaurants (after eating in them), they left not one stone, rock, or pebble unturned!
By the end of their search, night had fallen
"Geez, we must've looked through at least half this country" GG remarked in exhaustion
"What?" Terry replied "no, we've only done this one city"
"Oh, well we'd best get going with the rest"
"You're joking, look at you, you're clearly exhausted!"
"Nonsense, I could do this all day!"
"You did!"
"AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN!"
"No, we’re gonna get a hotel before you nod off on the concrete” Terry said as he began dragging GG around, trying to find someplace to stay, when suddenly the duo were approached by a hooded figure
“Hola! I couldn’t help but overhear you on the lookout for a place to stay, why not check in to ‘No es una trampa casa’?” they enthusiastically announced “We’re sure you’ll enjoy our luxuries, especially considering we’re the only hotel open for miles!”
The figure said this while giving a deathly glare to another hotel manager across the street, prompting them to back away from turning the ‘closed’ sign over
“So what d’ya say?”
“Sure” Terry said without hesitation as the figure led the two inside, they walked through the resort’s many corridors, it was packed with various restaurants, gift shops, even an exotic chocolate shop
Soon enough, they found themselves to their room, “well, sleep tight!” the figure said, closing the door
With a yawn, GG announced “Y’know, I said I wanted to keep searching, but seeing that soft bed simply calling my name, I gotta admit-”
“We can’t sleep” Terry retorted
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE CAN’T”
“C’mon, you think I didn’t see through that crappy disguise? I could easily see the skull through that hood”
“Oh, right, disguise… that means they're here somewhere! Ugh, I’m so tired though, lemme just get some- where’s the coffee? DID THEY TAKE THE COFFEE POT!?”
“Don’t worry, there’s gotta be some more somewhere, you pick yourself up, then we’ll meet up”
“Alright, sounds like a plan”
“Oh and be careful, Emelia’s Skeletons are bound to be all over”
“Yeah, sure, skeletons… WAIT, WHAT!?”
GG’s shock wouldn’t be answered as Terry left the room, to begin his search
Meanwhile, watching through the eyes of the room’s painting, Emelia saw the two leave the room “They’re still on to us, but they’ve split up, it’s now or never” she said as she strummed her guitar, prompting one of her skeletal allies to hand her her signature weapon, a shining, sharp rapier
GG, meanwhile groggily meandered about the resort, looking for something to wake him up, until he remembered something that made his eyes light up
“S’pose I got time to check out that chocolate shop” he thought out loud, rubbing his hands together, excitedly
A few of Emelia’s skeletons caught wind of the boy’s remarks and snuck out to the back of the shop to prepare for an ambush, just as GG entered through the front
The boy begun to parooze the shelves, marveling at the sheer variety of chocolate in one place, one in particular caught his eye
“Chocolate covered coffee beans? Sweet, kill two birds with one stone!”
The skeletons tried to sneak up from around the corner, only to quickly hide back as GG looked over his shoulder, though he only did so to check if any staff were watching him, “hmm, seems pretty empty… guess I could sneak a quick taste test” GG said as he licked his lips and peeled back the candy’s wrapper, seeing as he was distracted, the skeletons once more continued their pursuit, one taking his left and the other his right, they got close enough and readied themselves to strike!
Then GG took a bite, any grogginess in his eyes vanished instantly, he had such a spike in energy, he couldn’t help but throw back his arms with a loud “Woo!” unknowingly knocking out the skeletons behind him, turning his head and seeing the boney foes he’d just taken out, he suddenly remembered, “Right, Terry!” he then froze, having heard yet more skeletal clatter, turning around to see the skeletons had reassembled themselves, “hey…” GG fearfully murmured as he attempted to back away, “why don’t we settle this over some… Pocket ash!” as he threw out his hand and launched a blast of smoke and ash, right into the skeleton’s eyes!
Or, lack thereof, seeing as how neither so much as flinched at GG’s attack
GG saw his plan wasn’t going to work, quickly pocketed a handful of beans and dashed off to look for his partner
Terry meanwhile, was vigilant as ever as he searched the resort, “Emelia! Emelia, where are you!?” he cried out, constantly checking over his shoulder, soon he heard a subtle strum of a guitar, suddenly a horde of skeletons surrounded Terry and rushed to ambush him! But Terry quickly jet-packed high up, the skeletons all crashed into one another with their remains scattered all over the floor
“Show yourself, I know all your tricks!” Terry exclaimed
“Well that’s the thing, hierba” Emelia announced before quickly descending from her hiding spot on the ceiling and puncturing his fuel tank with her sword and with a few quick strums of her guitar, the scattered bones on the floor came together, forming a skeletal cage around the cowboy, “I’m always getting new ones” Terry tried to reach into his pack’s storage, but it was empty!
“Looking for this?” Emelia asked mockingly, holding a second guitar from the music shop, before she smashed it on the ground
“I’m telling you, I’m innocent!”
“And why should I believe you?”
“Why do you believe him!?”
“The Director may be a mierda leader, but what happened that day was undeniable,and if you think you or your little accomplice are going to walk out scott-free, you’re dead wrong. Speaking of which, where is- ”
“Terry!” GG yelped as he stood at the end of the corridor
“Ah, how convenient, you must be the sidekick I’ve heard so much about”
“Sidekick?! Oh, you’re lucky I can’t kill you”
“Well unfortunately I can’t either, will you be doing this the easy way or the hard way?”
“Yeah, are you gonna tell me what you know about Terry’s framing, or am I gonna have to pound you into a tamale?”
“Hmmph, the hard way it is…” Emelia proceeded to grab her extra sword and toss it right by GG’s feet, “pick it up” she said
“You’re… giving me a weapon?”
“I’m not above a fair fight, pequeño”
“Huh, well I am!” GG shouted as he charged quickly with a lightning dash, intending to catch her by surprise by running and slashing her as quick as possible, but to his shock, Emelia’s sword instantly blocked GG’s attempted blow “no, I don’t think you are” she retorted as she knocked GG back onto the ground, GG quickly jumped back up and wildly flailed his sword at Emelia, but she clashed back at every last slash with little effort, no matter what he tried, until GG started feeling winded
“Had enough, little toppat?” Emelia snickered, approaching the boy
“No…” GG said between tired breaths, “I got one more trick up my sleeve…" he announced before taking a pause, much to Emelia’s anticipation
Then he proceeded to run away, but the skeleton’s quickly reacted and swarmed the boy, he tried to fight back with his flames, but no matter what, they would always quickly reform
“GG!” Terry yelled, “You just need a g-” he tried to speak was interrupted as one of the skeleton’s arms covered his mouth
With this knowledge (or lack thereof), GG ran as fast as he could, as he broke out of the swarm “ok, ok” he thought to himself “what was he gonna say? g… g…” he continually tried to figure it out as the horde of skeletons chased him,while they couldn’t quite keep up with him, they’d toss their various limbs at the boy with shocking accuracy, until he passed by the resort’s bakery and read one of the signs “galletas, that’s it!” he yelped as he ran in and grabbed every galleta his arms could carry before jumping out and throwing them at the army like ninja stars!
He kept throwing and throwing until he realized, this wasn’t working and the only reason Emelia and her army were not charging was because they were in shock at his sheer stupidity
And with a few strums at her guitar, the chase was back on track as GG would repeatedly make pit stops to throw whatever he could think of at them, globes, guacamole, gatos (well porcelain ones anyway) but nothing worked
Soon enough, the chase lead the two parties inside a music store “nowhere to run now!” Emelia arrogantly cried as GG was backed into a corner, his hands thrown back in fear, the skeletons stepping steadily forward, his back against the wall, his arms flailing rapidly in fear
Until, by accident, he strummed one of the guitars hung on the wall, the skeletons lurched back at the sound, GG stood, confused as to what just happened, quickly, Emelia gave a couple more strums and they charged again
GG once more took a pluck of the instrument’s strings and they flinched backwards once more, he figured it out, a smile spread across his face as he grabbed the guitar off the wall and strummed like no tomorrow! It didn’t sound anything like what a sane person would call music, but that didn’t matter as the skeletons were repelled by the sounds, Emelia saw this and jumped into action, rushing at GG with her sword, the boy quickly dashed away, hopping to and fro as he plucked and strummed all across the shop, soon Emelia stopped and once more began to play her guitar, her strums getting stronger, tempo faster, music louder and slowly the skeletons had begun to overpower the influence of GG’s relentless plucking, it seemed he was placed back in the same position he was before
But then, he reached into his pockets, and chowed down on the chocolate covered coffee beans he had been saving, instantly his energy spiked as he used his electricity to amp up his guitar playing,but Emelia was not ready to give up, holding and playing her guitar in one hand and grabbing her sword in the other, she once more charged at the toppat, GG followed suit and they slashed once more
Emelia was shocked to find her guitar’s strings were all slashed and her sword was reduced to just a hilt! She turned back to GG to find him with a smug face, still strumming as he blew out the flame at his fingertip, and unleashing another round of pocket ash into her eyes!
At this moment, she couldn’t see, she could only hear the music get closer and closer as GG approached, then her sight returned and she found GG, standing in front of her and then he hit her over the head with his guitar!
By the time Emelia came to, she was tied up, Terry was free and her army was gone “have a good sleep?” GG asked “now, answers”
“Fine, you want the truth? I’ll tell you, on that day, I was walking down the hall when I heard a loud bang, it still rings in my ears to this day and when I went to check, our leader’s body was lifeless on the floor, next to HIS smoking revolver!”
“That could’ve been anyone using it!” GG retorted
“Hmmph, a likely story,” Emelia scowled,turning to Terry “you snapped, didn’t you, got tired of being the little runt and decided to take to the top by force? Well guess what, you can kill all you want, you can try to run from every last one of your problems, but you’ll always be nothing more than a pequeño hierba!”
At that moment, she reached from behind, giving a little strum to a guitar behind her. All of a sudden a cavalcade of skeletal hands reached from the ground, dragging her through the dirt to make her mistake. GG ran and tried to grab her, but it was too late…
“Dammit!” GG yelled before sighing in disappointment and turning to the cowboy “Terry, be honest with me?”
“About what?”
“Are you sure the rogues ever really cared about you…?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, all this talk of them hating you, barely hesitating to put the blame on you with barely any evidence, it’s just all a buncha bad signs to me…”
“Look, I know it’s a lot, but there were… some good times, if I could just clear my name… look, it’ll be fine, alright? For now, let’s get some sleep, you must be real tired”
“yeah…I guess”
And so, the duo returned to the room to doze off, in GG’s mind, doubts may have floated about his brain, but for the sake of Terry, he’d stay optimistic to the very end!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[End of Act 5]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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[Epilogue]
“Yes yes, I couldn’t ask for a better backstage!” The director shouted as he shoved the trio of Lights, Camera, and action out of their meeting hall
Seeing another of their ideas be dismissed without hesitation, Lights started to droop their head down
“Hey, hey!” Action intervened “What we’ve gots is great! So what if that bozo doesn’t wanna listen, once it’s done they’re gonna have their socks rocked off!”
At that moment, both Lights and Camera instantly perked up, much to Action’s delight
“Yeah, that's what I loves to see! Now, what’s the next step? Action announced, turning back to Lights, who responded simply by holding a finger up
“Ah, need some time to think? Take ya time, buddy!” Lights gave a thumbs up as they retreated to their room and opened their laptop, opening their email and sent out a message, within minutes they received a reply
“Sounds to me, you’ve got all your materials in order, you just gotta put 'em’ together, trust me, you stick with it and you and your little menagerie will be on top in no time!”
After reading this, Lights closed his Laptop and returned to the group
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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As Fire Loves Innocence (Xavier Thorpe x Reader) Pt 5
Trigger Warning: Mentions of SA and Trauma, Angst, Mentions of underaged drinking.
You looked at the staircase spiraling into the underground stone library and your stomach turns. “I’m not sure I can do this Xavier. I don’t do well in dark enclosed spaces.” “Are you claustrophobic?” “You could say that.” “You don’t have to go to this thing if you don’t want to, but as a nightshade I do have to attend.” “You promise not to leave me alone down there?” “Promise.” He held out his pinky and you took it with your own with a muffled giggle, before descending the stairs. The statue above makes an ear-splitting grinding sound as it closes above you. You jump at the sound but realize quickly that the space below was well lit and warmed by a fireplace and several candles. You get to the bottom of the staircase to find Bianca and several other students drinking something amber from a clear bottle. It’s obviously alcohol but you don’t know what kind. Bianca smiles as she sees the two of you. “Xavier! Y/N! glad you could make it. What did you bring?” Xavier pulls an eraser from his pocket and hand it to Bianca who places it in a bowl on the left side of the staircase. You hand her a small satchel “What is this?” “It’s worry dolls. Open it” Bianca opens the bag to find 6 tiny dolls made of rolled up paper wire and thread. “I have a ton of them. My grandmother sends them to me from Guatemala regularly. She says they keep nightmares and worries away” “Interesting.” She puts the dolls back in their satchel before placing it in the bowl on the right side of the staircase. She looks back up at you and sees your confusion. “Those are for a game later, but first the interrogation game” The two of you follow her back to the circle in the middle of the room. The game appeared to be a weird version of spin the bottle. A boy you don’t recognize speaks up. “The game is simple. One person spins the bottle, whoever it points to takes a small sip of this” He holds up the bottle of Amber liquid. “It’s truth serum which has been diluted by a ton of whiskey. This shortens the time it affects you. Once the person drinks, they’ll be under the influence of the truth serum for about a minute before it wears off. The spinner flips the timer,” he points to a small plastic hourglass you assume was taken from a board game, “and has until it runs out to ask the drinker questions. The drinker is then the new spinner and the game continues until we run out or we get bored. Whatever happens first” You nod and take a seat in the circle. The boy spins the bottle, and it lands on Ajax. He takes the amber liquid and drinks a small amount, as the boy flips the timer. “Shoot” Ajax sounds remarkably calm and leans back. “You have a crush on Enid, right?” “oh, come on man you already know the answer is yes.” “Yeah, but I wanted to hear you say it. Okay…what was your first celebrity crush?” “Lola Bunny from space jam” “Dude no way! She’s a rabbit!” “I know that man, but she was still hot” The whole circle had devolved into a fit of laughter now and soon the timer had runout. This game went on for almost an hour. You had been called on a few times and asked a few questions like your first celebrity crush, your worst habit, etc.…, but the as the game went on you noticed the questions getting riskier. The bottle was running low, and it seemed there was only enough left for one more spin. Bianca was the last spinner and your stomach dropped as you saw the bottle point at you again. You took the last swig of the mixture and look back up at her as she flipped the timer. “Is it true you burned a man alive?” “No.” The room goes quiet as they realize that you had been telling the truth this whole time. “Did you really kill him?” You feel the whole room hold its breath “Yes.” “How then?” “I poisoned him and then burned the body as much as a could to cover it up. Told the judge I lost control in self-defense, and he burned up.” “Why?” “He kidnapped me and kept me lock in a cave underground for months. I saw an opportunity for escape, and I took it.” You draw a small fire to your hand and allow it to float above it. As you move your other hand the ball grows slightly larger and rolls along your arms. You pass it back and forth between your arms for a few seconds before waving both hands causing it to dissipate into thin air. “I have never lost control of it. I may not be able to do anything flashy yet, but I don’t conjure this by accident.” “Do you regret it?” As you’re about to answer, you hear someone murmur “Bianca” and look down at the timer to see it’s run out. You no longer feel the truth serum in your veins, but wait another breath before you look back up at Bianca “No. I’d do it again. I’d just be more careful not to get caught” You stare into her eyes for a few moments as she stares back. You see a look of understanding in her eyes. A sense of female solidarity. She nods at you. “I respect it. I imagine he got what he deserved.” She must have sensed the tension in the room and decided to break it. “You know what? I’m actually really tired so I think we’ll save the bowl game for another day.” A chorus of yeah’s and me too’s comes from the rest of the circle and everyone begins to pick their things up out of the bowls as they leave. Just as you go to leave Bianca hands you your worry doll satchel and grabs your hand. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried so hard. You have every right to be upset.” “It’s fine Bianca. The truth was going to have to come out eventually anyway, but if anyone official asks, I lost control.” “For sure. If you need anything at all let me know.” “Okay” “One more thing” She hands you a black hooded robe and gold pin. “Welcome to the nightshades.”
#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier thorpe x you#xavier thorpe x y/n#xavier thorpe fanfic#xavier thorpe#wednesday
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Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.
• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.
⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️
⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️
• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.
⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️
😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡
Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓
Title: Big Cloud Clothing Cuddle with Miya & Sammir
Hello, here's my first artwork this 1st day of June.
• My G-Pal rafacaz4lisam2k4 (Guatemala Pal) had already announced that his current HTF OC Sammir will change again his personality look & attire despite Sammir didn't fit well, in the first place. This month, of course. But for me, I think he looks cute in that way, not to mention his 2019 attire that I love. 🥰💛💙👕👖
• And although he already gives Sammir's 2019 attire to me & my OCs, my G-Pal suggest that it should be "alternate" rather than "permanent", unlike my A-Pal (American Pal), Bryan360. 🤷 And you know what, it's fine. I'll take his word no matter what, at least I could inspire his 2019 attire to my upcoming OCs.
• Nonetheless, I have two artworks that related to Sammir's 2019 attire (that I love), like this one right now. One of which will soon to be posted, this month, as well. And nothing special here, Sammir 🐻🌩️gave his unlimited supply of his 2019 attire to his beloved girlfriend Miya 🐰🐻🔋, with a baggy size as their night pajamas. While the bigger one will be stuffed with numerous larger than life pillows to make the softest clothing bed ever. And they snug it up together tightly. 🥰💛💙👕👖🤗🛌🌙
There's no need to dialog for these two because they're sleepy in the comfort of night. 😉
Well, that's all for now.
Miya Speedster (wearing her owned Sammir clothes 2019) - created by ME! Sammir (HTF OC) - owned by rafacaz4lisam2k4
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Welfare Check
Just popping in to let you know that I’m not in a coma or six feet under. We had the grandgirl for a few days and then I needed Tuesday to recover. Just kidding, she is FUN, we’re just not used to that much fun. I don’t remember getting a backache during bath time when my kids were little. Anywho - today I played catch up around the house, processed a couple loads of laundry, and planned our menus for the next few days. Normal, boring stuff. What I haven’t yet done sit down and watch the Miss Universe pageant! I spent last week watching a few preliminary rounds and checking out national costumes. I chose my favorites, and I’ve avoided all pageant-related news so I can still be surprised. Honestly, I just want to see the evening gowns. I already know that Miss Guatemala struggled with hers. Didn’t she try walking in it before the pageant??
https://www.tiktok.com/@masterpageant/video/7023113387219504410 Click that link to watch her gown try to sabotage her.
Other than feeling my age and dreaming of gowns (by the way, it’s really sad to know that at my age any chance to wear a fabulous gown has passed) I’ve been choosing colors for the kitchen. We finally found a reputable company to paint the cabinets and I’m in the market for some granite now. The estimate for the cabinets was quite a bit higher than I expected, but I was basing it on Tennessee prices. They’ll sand, prime, sand again, spray, and seal. The fellow who gave us the estimate said it should take two to three days. Guess who won’t be cooking? I know I’ve talked about choosing Knoxville Gray....
or maybe a pretty thyme green. But I think I’m chicken. I’d probably love it, but I’d have to commit to it for a long, long time. We won’t be doing a kitchen makeover again anytime soon. I’m probably going to play it safe. I don’t want white, I want something creamier and deeper. Not beige, not khaki, not yellow-toned....just a creamy, soft, off-white.
That’s our wall color and our flooring - I just plugged in some fake cabinet fronts and oil-rubbed bronze hardware and faucet. That’s a nice, serene space and will still lend itself to seasonal decor - spring flowers to Christmas reds. If you know me you already know that I’m going to drive myself crazy comparing fifty shades of cream before deciding on the right one. One step in the wrong direction and I’ll have cabinets that look yellow, a toe the other way and they’re too cool. No one else would care but I’d see it every day of my life. Yeah, yeah, I know - first world problem. Speaking of fifty shades of cream - I haven’t colored my roots in ages and I’m back in the camp of not wanting to keep that cycle going. I wonder if I could just get a starburst of really light highlights on the crown of my head and let everything grow out again. I think I just want to be an artist granny with a long, white braid. My mother told me that white hair aged me, but I’m telling you - the last eight months have aged me more than the last eight years. I’m hoping that 2023 revives me. Of course, I’ll be 60 on my next birthday, I’m allowed to age. If wrinkles only go where the smiles have been then I’ve smiled a lot. Anyywayyyy, I’ll be back tomorrow with some things to say. I’ve been thinking about stuff. I’ve got to pop some dinner in the oven for the mister and then kick his butt at Jeopardy. It’s all part of our romantic daily routine. Stay tuned for fast-paced, meaningful blog posts. Just kidding, it’ll be more nonsense. Stay safe, stay well, see ya’ tomorrow.
Nancy
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— BASICS;
» NAME: arlo yesenia ladrón » AGE / BIRTH / ZODIAC: 28 years old / december 20th / sagittarius » PLACE OF BIRTH: Guatemala City, Guatemala » RESIDENCE: lunar cove, rhode island / echo acres » GENDER: cis woman — she/her » SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual » SPECIES: vampire (turned at 27) » OCCUPATION: art curator at art in motion + forger » LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, spanish, portuguese and basic french
Trigger Warnings: physical and emotional abuse, death, starvation, parental neglect, suicide
— PERSONALITY;
» Positive Traits: Loyal, driven, and passionate » Negative Traits: Proud, competitive and judgemental » Goals/Desires: To make herself some kind of life for herself that she can be at peace with, and that her brother wanted for her » Likes: art, painting/drawing, boxing/mma, running » Dislikes: being reminded of her past, people prying into her business, people looking over her shoulder while she works » Inspirations: elektra natchios, faith lehane, jamie moriarty, fallon carrington, veronica mars, killian jones
— SUMMARY;
arlo was born a witch with the powers of spirit raising, fire manipulation and tracking
she grew up in a wealthy guatemalan/puerto rican family, spending her childrood living across central and south america with her parents and her older brother, francisco
the ladrón family are a wealthy witch family with magic spanning centuries, but have focused on succeeding in human business - the family has built a business empire in finance and industry, but engage in white collar crime to ensure their legacy. they don't have much connection or interest in the magic community, but ensured that their children were adept with their magic in case it was needed.
arlo has loved art as long as she can remember and is a highly skilled forger of official documents and art. she used to love it for herself, but her father saw it as another opportunity to gain more power/influence so encouraged her to produce forgeries for his own ends.
at sixteen arlo fled from guatemala to the us with the aid of her brother, and lived in new york as a forger to get by before falling in with the selvi sisters
after the sisters headed to lunar cove she fell in love with john. he was in with some bad people and arlo joked that she would one day have to resurrect him since he couldn't stay out of trouble. this became on ongoing inside joke between them.
this became eerily true and john was killed and she resurrected him, leading to the death of francisco
john would leave her shortly after this, not wanting to deal with her grief, and stole a number of items from her in the process
arlo discovered that their relationship was a lie, john was using her, had been cheating on her and was trying to make connections with her father due to his power and influence.
when john left he stole a watch from arlo, with the intention of pawning it. this was francisco's watch that he had given esen as a parting gift when he sent her away. francisco used to wear the watch every day, and arlo had worn it every day since she left. even though it was a vintage watch and very valuable esen never considered selling it when she was struggling. john knew the significance of the watch and seemingly didn't care.
arlo sought out a vampire with the intention of turning herself into a vampire to kill john. she tracked him down with her magic and then proceeded to kill herself with john watching and cause her change into a vampire.
she then moved to lunar cove following the selvi sisters, trying to figure out what she would make out of her life
— ABOUT;
she refuses to be in a relationship due to what occurred with john, she doesn't trust romantic connection or love as she blames it for blinding her and making her kill her brother
though she wants to make friends and some kind of life she herself she keeps people at a bit of a distance, not trusting that she won't be blinded by her own emotions towards people, again
being raised in a very wealthy and detached family, she often can be rude or a bit short with people, but she is trying to be more approachable and nice
she is always down for a good time and will not say no to a night of drinks and trouble if asked
art is her passion™ and she spends a lot of her time at art in motion ensuring the displays are perfect, and seeking out new artists to display
her home is full of more art than furniture, and there are a number of forgeries she hangs for herself that look like they were plucked from the Louvre
her other passions include kickboxing and fine foods (eating them only - she is a horrible cook)
she lives in a cabin in echo acres, settled into the woods, as she wants to keep a part of the world to herself
she always wears a vintage mens watch (here) that her brother gave to her when he sent her to the US
she has a very specific style and is always overdressed. She was raised in the lap of luxury so invests in high quality pieces and vintage. She wears a lot of neutrals and black. Her style can be seen (here) and specific event outfits can be seen (here)
she loves tattoos and has a number of them across her body (here) seeing them as a form of art
— MORE INFO;
full biography
musing tag
musing pinterest board
style pinterest board
mirror
— WANTED CONNECTIONS;
full wanted connections page
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