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#the people who turn on him now are no better than the day-one antis

im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 6 months

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Danny, at 17, did not have the best love life. This is partially because two of his must haves in a partner are " Will protect me with their life" and "Will commit unspeakable acts of violence for me" or at least beat someone up for his honor.

Naturally, this doesn't always result in the most stable of partners.

His first girlfriend, Valerie, became an anti-hero and broke up with him for his safety.

He finally got with Sam in sophomore year only for the feds to come into class one day to arrest her. To his surprise, her crimes had nothing to do with ghosts but rather an incident where she went too far and committed a few acts of economic terrorism. Danny and Tucker never really learned the specifics of the crimes, and her parents hushed up as many news outlets as they could, so there wasn't much info to go around. All they knew was that she saved thousands of lives by doing it.

In the end, she was sentenced to eight years, and she broke up with him so that he wouldn't wait around for her to get out.

His third partner was a guy named David who was really sweet. Unfortunately, Danny got kidnapped one day by David's arch nemesis, who was some villain with a corny edge lord name. Yeah. David had become a a super hero after they started dating.

And if you guessed that he freaked out and dumped Danny for his own protection, you'd deserve a cookie.

Danny was noticing a pattern here. One that continued with everyone he dated. They always became some kind of hero before dumping him for his own protection, and it was infuriating. Sure, danny could defend himself, but he was never deep enough into the relationship to reveal his phantom half, and frankly, his hero career was something he left behind when he left Amity and destroyed the portals.

He met Tim at a skatepark after Tim fell off his board cause of some jerk speeding out in front of him on his own board, forcing Tim to stop or else hit the guy. The guy was unrepentant and Tim calmed him down (this did not stop him from melting the guys wheels with an ectoblast when no one was looking).

Tim then asked him to coffee. Danny, noticing how cute Tim was, agreed.

Danny was up front with his parents being mad scientists in Illinois. He always was with all the people he dated. It was better not to hide these kinds of things or worse, wait until you're already attached and afraid of losing them. So he always told potential partners as early as possible. Tim seemed a bit put off by this but was calmer about it than most, and they continued chatting.

Tim didn't seem like the type to turn to heroism or anti heroism so he felt safe on their later dates. It was only after he had known Tim for a while that he put the pieces together.

Tim was always covered in bruises that he hid with his clothes and make up, he had complained about batman over the phone when he thought danny couldn't hear, he was rich, he knew how to fight as revealed by his stances and footwork dispite trying to pretend he didn't, and lastly he held a lot of political power and influence being Bruce Wayne's son. Power he had no reservations using when it suited him or he was just feeling petty (that pettiness was part of why danny was falling for him harder than he thought he could)

No wonder Tim was so okay with his parents being rouges.

Tim was a villain!

At least Tim wouldn't leave him like all his exes. Danny doesn't think he could handle it if he did. Another good thing about this is now he can talk more freely about the more villainous and morally gray ideas and inventions when he was alone with Tim.

Tim didn't see anything wrong with Danny's idea to use something similar to cloning pods to make synthetic meats like rump roasts and steaks as a way to end world hunger and was eager to add to the conversation.

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a66-1 · 17 days

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starving

part 1 | part 2 [you're here!]

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

finally got the idea for part 2. excited?

me too

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen.

semi proofread bc who cares

The next morning was exhausting as the last.

You got up early to go running. If you ever have the chance, you run until the sun comes up. You need to stay fit if you want a boyfriend. It was easier when you were on your meds. Almost like you had the will to live those mornings.

You were back at the house around 8 am. You weren't scheduled for work today so... You headed back to bed and really, just slept the day away

You woke up around 5 pm. 5, really? God, you are just some depressed child.

You got out of bed for the second time, and changed into a dress. It was hard seeing yourself in a dress after 2 years. You stopped going out because alcoholism and anti-depressants aren't really two peas in a pod, are they?

Well this is why you quit. You dropped your therapist and your meds because you were better, and your mom stopped helping with the payments, and now you can go back to partying.

Minus the heavy drinking.

Hopefully.

You tear your eyes off yourself. If you stare too long, you'll end up convincing yourself to stay in bed longer. You configure the rest of your outfit, and grab a small black purse. Throwing your phone in it, you leave the house quicky. If you don't, you might properly convince yourself you're just as ugly as you thought..

The drive to the bar was silent, save from the honking cars around you. Fuck, what if this is the wrong idea? I mean the looks everyone will give you, you look so bad and so ugly and god this was such a bad--

You hear a car honk behind you. The light turned green. You lower your head, sighing, and taking a left.

Once at the bar, you slip into one of the seats nearer the back, feeling uncomfortable in the seat. Adjusting your dress down, you cringe while looking around the bar. There's so many pretty women here, and comparatively you are way under them.

You order a drink, sipping on the alcohol for the first time in months. Fuck, your therapist would be losing it if she knew you not only stopped meds but started drinking again...

You rested your head in your palm, watching others interact. Pretty women just have a way with men, a way you've never had. The buzz of the alcohol was enough to make you not question why nobody has interacted with you, other than the bartender. People probably think your such a loser, I mean, who would just sit here and drink--

"Hey. You're, uh.. That girl from yesterday right?" A gruff voice appears behind you. You flinch forward, whipping your head around.

Oh. This guy.

You slowly put your drink down, your palm over the top of it.

"And who are you?" You ask, eyeing the man. He didn't have his mask on. He was... Really cute.

"A customer." He sat next to me, his eyes trained on mine. I felt sort of flushed under his gaze.

Fuckin' small world.

You spent some of the night talking with him. Still don't know his name, or why you ran into him here, but you don't care nonetheless.

You were looking for sex this night but... Is a connection so bad?

Like you could make a connection with someone who is out of your league.

thank god i finished this. 3 drafts later, and im sorry its kinda short. trust part 3 is gonna have the good stuff, this is kinda a filler so it can get to the good stuff.

ily babes...

-a661

taglist:

@i-am-hungry-24-7 @arminarlertssword @haven-1307

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost fluff

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lovebotmo · 4 months

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like the movies

chapter five - late library nights

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1337

author's note: hello friends!!! it has almost been a month and i would like to offer my sincerest apologies!!!! i have entered my final semester of university so things have been rather hectic. i appreciate all the love you guys have given this series this far <3 thanks for being the absolute best. kiss kiss

also if i missed you for the taglist plz let me know!!! its been a min hehe

song inspiration: bewitched by laufey

Thanks to Lavender’s rather loose lips, the entire student body of Hogwarts seemed to be buzzing about your secret, not-so-secret admirer. Three days later and you could still hear the giggles of second-year girls as they discussed just who your mystery man could be steps behind you and your friends. You even had to endure a public love confession from both Fred and George, the red-headed twins bickering and quarreling over who loved you more in their newest prank. They both claimed to have been your secret admirer and demanded that you choose the twin you cared for more. It quickly devolved into a passionate, highly embarrassing competition that had the crowd which had slowly grown howling in laughter. George had even torn his shirt open, claiming that ‘the fires of love were burning within him and that clothes could not contain his ardent affection any longer.’ The whole affair might have been more comical had you not been its victim. Suffice to say you were adequately embarrassed, as if the burning blush on your face had not been enough evidence to that fact.

However, even with all the attention now placed on you and your secret admirer, no one had sincerely come forward to claim responsibility. You could hardly blame them, given the reactions of your fellow students. Still, you couldn’t help yourself grow more and more curious as days continued to pass without any additional clues.

“So…I hear you’ve got yourself a bit of an admirer, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned towards Theo to find a smirk resting smugly on his face. “Merlin, not you too, Theo. I swear it’s impossible to go ten minutes without someone mentioning it.”

Theo laughed at your response and the obvious annoyance in your expression. “Bit of a touchy subject?”

You sighed. “Sorry. It’s just—bloody hell, I’ve got loads of people coming up to me trying to chat about it and well, it’s a bit much.”

The tall Slytherin nodded as he scanned his Potions textbook, looking for the next set of directions for the Wolfsbane potion you were currently brewing. “I didn’t mean to pry, really—”

“No, no it’s all right. I’m just a bit on edge recently.” You and Theo both reached for the crushed moonstone, hands bumping clumsily into each other. “Sorry, ‘m all over the place today.”

Theo gave you a gentle smile before grasping the vial, gingerly adding it before meeting your eyes with his own. “S’all right. Besides, we both know it’s better if I handle things, considering I’m the better Potions student any—ow!” Theo rubbed his arm where you had lightly smacked him.

“Just because you beat me by one whole point on the last test doesn’t mean—”

“It means I am better than—Salazar, woman!” This time Theo rubbed his other arm which you may or may not have hit. “You’ve got to come up with a better comeback than physical assault. I could report you to Slughorn, you know.”

“Oh please, you’d never snitch on me, Theo. We’re potions partners after all—you’re stuck with me.”

A wide grin made its way onto Theo’s face, along with the faintest blush that he desperately hoped you couldn’t see in the dim lighting of the classroom. “Yeah, ‘spose I am.” Realizing he was looking at you in a bit of a daze, he cleared his throat. “I forgot to mention, Pucey’s set a last-minute quidditch practice for this afternoon. I know we’re meant to work on the project for anti-venoms, but is there any chance we could push it until later?”

“Tsk, tsk, Theodore. Choosing quidditch over Potions, eh? And you call yourself the best Potions student?” you teased. Theo let out a sharp laugh, dropping three murtlap tentacles into the cauldron bubbling before you. “That works for me, actually. Where did you want to meet?”

“I can catch up with you on the quidditch pitch. We can head over to the library from there.” Stirring the concoction clockwise, Theo looked at you from the corner of his eye, “Thanks for being flexible.”

“’Course. It’s what you would expect from the best Potions student, right?”

“Alright, pipe down.”

“You’re no fun, Theo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now hand me the wolfsbane leaves.”

“Only if you admit I’m the better Potions student.”

“Y/n.”

“…Here you go.”

Tugging at the sleeves of your sweater, you made your way towards the quidditch pitch, just as the sun was starting to set over the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. The practice had evidently just ended as players began to descend from the sky at the sound of Captain Adrian Pucey’s dismissal. Walking over, you saw Theo dismounting from his broom alongside Enzo. Upon spotting you, the pair walked over to greet you.

“Rough practice, huh?” The boys before you were out of breath, chests heaving with obvious exhaustion.

Enzo gave you a look, “You’ve no idea.” Beside him, Theo nodded in agreement.

“Pucey’s got his tail in a twist about the game this weekend against Gryffindor,” Theo said. “We can’t catch a break.” Theo grabbed the end of his practice jersey to wipe at the sweat on his brow, revealing a lean, toned abdomen. His tongue swiped quickly at his pink lips as he continued to breathe heavily. As he let go of his jersey, one of his hands went to run through his unruly curls and you couldn’t help but stare at the more than pleasant image before you.

Fucking hell…Godric save me.

As if sensing your train of thought, Enzo smirked, mirth dancing in his eyes.

The sound of Theo’s Italian accent broke your reverie. “I’ve got to hit the showers, so I’ll be ten minutes or so. You alright with waiting?”

Clutching your Potions textbook to your chest, you nodded, giving Enzo’s look of obvious amusement a glare. “’M fine. Go ahead.”

Theo flashed that wide grin of his that you were becoming fond of before trotting off to join the other players in the locker rooms. By now, Enzo’s grin had become a full-on beam.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Enzo—well, don’t think it.”

The Slytherin raised his hands in mock confusion. “What could you possibly mean, Y/n? I was just wondering—”

“Enzo, don’t make me hit you with this book.”

“Jeez, I guess Theo wasn’t lying when he said you were violent.”

“Hey!”

Hours later in the library, you swore words were beginning to dance off the pages of the endless tomes you and Theo had been rummaging through for your upcoming project. Beside you, Theo seemed to feel the same exhaustion, groaning as his forehead dropped onto one of the thick volumes.

Grasping your quill, you gently brushed the feather by Theo’s ear to grasp his attention. Still faceplanted in a book, the tired boy simply turned his head towards you rather than sitting upright.

“I reckon we call it a night, yeah?” Theo’s curls shook as he nodded his head, eyes beginning to droop in exhaustion. “You’ve probably got to be up early for the game tomorrow too.” Your Potions partner glared at you for the reminder before finally sitting up.

You began to tidy up the sprawled-out texts before Theo broke the quiet resting over the library. “You going?”

Turning to look at him, you paused, “Going to what?”

Theo laughed softly, “The game, Y/n.”

“Oh.” You grinned sheepishly, “I don’t know. Hadn’t decided yet.”

Theo hummed at your response. Moving sluggishly, he began to help you pack up.

“Well…you should go. It’s supposed to be a good one.” You met Theo’s eyes that were already peering into yours.

“You want me to go, huh? To show off or something?”

Theo laughed at you, gently flicking one of your hands reaching for a stray quill. “Or something.”

You smiled, “Well, if you want me there, I’m there.”

Having finished packing up, Theo stood in front of you and mirrored your grin. “Well, I do…want you there, that is.”

Walking out of the library together, you gently bumped the taller boy’s shoulder. “Then, I’m there.”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7, @adoraspace, @spencerreidsthings, @crimsntwlip, @readingthingsonhere, @sbrn0905, @violet2022, @aemiliazzz, & @hoeforvinniehackerrr

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

On Friday, there was yet another Palestinian terrorist attack. Terrorists started shooting at Israelis near a yeshiva, and as security forces gave chase, an explosive device was set off through remote control, which shows just how sophisticated some of these terrorists are getting. Seven Israeli soldiers were injured. The explosives were homemade, and I heard one estimate that if they had been "proper," the number of casualties would have been much higher.

Friday was also International Women's Day, when we asked people to remember Israeli and Jewish women, including the ones still being abused by terrorists in captivity. Here's a small round up of a few related global events... In South Africa, Jewish women marched, asking their president and government to condemn Hamas' sexual violence, protesting against the extra burden of proof demanded of Jewish women. Similar protests were held in other places around the world, among them in front of the UN headquarters in NYC. Following an Israeli request, the US, the UK and France have asked the UN's security council to have an emergency session on the UN report regarding Hamas' sexual crimes, Israel's Foreign Minister and the families of the hostages are meant to attend. But maybe the most poignant news come from the Norwegian capital of Oslo, where protesters holding up signs in support of the Israeli women held hostage by Hamas were barred from participating in the International Women's Day March by its organizers, after other participants of the march were physically stopping the group supporting the kidnapped Israeli women.

Biden's recent MSNBC interview, where he's said that "there has to be another way to deal with the trauma caused by Hamas," has managed to piss off even left wing journalists here. I'm gonna pass along what one said... Biden doesn't get it. We're not fighting in Gaza to deal with trauma, this is not the equivalent of going to therapy. We're facing a terrorist organization that massacred us, rules an entire strip of land, and has turned it into the world's biggest base for terrorist activity, turned its 2.1 million people population into a human weapon, and if there is another way to make sure Israeli civilians are safe by destroying Hamas, with less casualties on the other side, let him present it in practical matters. So far, all he does is to give the vague, abstract, "Israel needs to do better," which is not a practical plan of action, and it's especially condescending, when we don't actually have historical examples of any country doing better during fights conducted under the conditions created by Hamas in Gaza.

I have written about the incident in northern Gaza, where over 100 people were killed in a stampede, as they were storming humanitarian aid trucks. It was a complex situation, in addition to those who died from the pushing and trampling (something we've seen in lots of tragic disasters around the world, which were by no means a massacre, such as a fairly well known stampede of Liverpool soccer fans), apparently some of those who died, were ran over when the (Arab) truck drivers were scared and tried to drive away from the mob, while a small number of suspicious people advanced menancingly on the soldiers. An IDF investigation report confirms the Israeli soldiers only fired at this smaller group, suspected of being terrorists, not at anyone else, and certainly not at the aid convoy itself. Of course none of this complexity was reflected in any anti-Israel propaganda posts, which labeled this a massacre. But now the size of the stampede has been confirmed as well, which in itself says a lot about this tragic chain of events: no less than 12,000 (!) Gazans were storming those aid trucks. Given the size of that crowd, it's almost a miracle that not more people were killed. Just compare the Liverpool fans stampede, where the size of the involved crowd was smaller, the situation less complex (no moving trucks or terrorists around), and the number of fatalities was practically the same, at 97 people killed.

This has got to be one of the worst things I've heard since Oct 7 brought new focus to the antisemitism problem on American college campuses. One of the morally clearest voices against this Jew hate has been a Jewish Israeli professor at Columbia University, Shai Davidai. Now apparently the uni has started an investigation into him, instead of... IDK, learning from the criticism he has raised regarding their failure to address antisemitism. They sure are doing a great job, showing Jews they're listened to and cared about, and protecting Davidai's freedom of speech, that last line of defense that all the college presidents fell back on when they had to address why calling for the genocide of Jews is not considered bullying or harassment on their campuses.

youtube

This is 100 years old Yocheved Gold (on the left, obviously).

Yocheved was born in 1923 in Germany. In 1936, as a Jewish teenager who was mistaken for a Christian girl, and despite her fear, she refused to hand a bouquet of flowers to Hitler at the Berlin Olympics. Two years later, at the age of 15, she was among the last Jews to flee Europe before WWII. She managed to make it to the Land of Israel, which saved her life. On Oct 7, she was in kibbutz Sa'ad, one of the southern Israeli communities attacked by Hamas terrorists. Eighty years after antisemites first forced her to flee her home, she had to do it again, and is maybe the only Israeli evacuee to be over 100 years old. Now she has returned to kibbutz Sa'ad, even though most still haven't (as they don't feel safe from Hamas), because she said she doesn't want to die away from home.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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jisungsdaydreamer · 11 months

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Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER ONE | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

THE LOVE FRUIT

“Mangoes. A criminally overlooked aphrodisiac. People call it the love fruit, you know.”

«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, controlling friendships, heavy fantasizing, masturbation (m and f) graphic sex fantasy sequence (includes descriptions of intercourse), sitophilia (food play) Word Count: 16.3k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“What is love?”

Hyunjin looks out at the expanse of eager minds in front of him, everyone blurring together in the darkened auditorium. He can’t see any of their faces, but it doesn’t matter. He’s only been on the stage for approximately thirteen seconds, but he already knows that they’re watching him in that familiar, delicious awe, quietly clawing at the sides of their seats in unbridled enthusiasm and desperation. And he can never blame them— Hyunjin’s kind of a catch.

He tucks his hands into his navy bespoke Armani trousers, appreciating the feeling of the silky inner lining against his fingertips. Even with such a casual gesture, he’s the picture of elegance; tall, devastatingly handsome, and movements fluid yet calculated, like a prima ballerina. Hyunjin is the kind of beauty that poets waste their lives over, pining over the perfect arch of his cupid’s bow to the aristocratic slope of his nose. As classic as an Italian prince, as unique as the moon herself.

“No, but seriously. What is love?” Hyunjin repeats his question into the mic, once more gracing his enthralled viewers with the rich, seductive notes of his voice. “Is it an emotion, that signal in your brain? A cliche? A cult?”

The audience ponders his words with bated breath, and Hyunjin takes the opportunity to continue.

“Or maybe it’s all just… lust.” Hyunjin whispers the last word while holding eye contact with an unsuspecting victim in the front row. The girl trembles and blushes under his heated gaze, looking down at her shoes in an attempt to hide her frazzled smile.

With a deliberate smirk, Hyunjin moves on to his next target in the audience. It can be anyone, yet another to fall for his endless charms. No one is immune. The cute reporter in the second row who will interview Hyunjin after he finishes his long awaited TED Talk. A wink. A lady in a big fur coat, old enough to be his grandmother. A beguiling smile. And even the stern looking security guard standing in the back. A brief, but loaded glance. Yep, Hyunjin doesn’t miss Guillermo’s cheeks turning red, even in this atrocious lighting.

A hesitant hand amongst the crowd slowly creeps upwards, bursting Hyunjin out of his momentary flirt bubble. “I think that love isn’t real.”

A smaller spotlight is immediately shined onto the timid speaker. It’s a boy in his early twenties, probably a junior in college, judging by his trendy sweatshirt and the freshness in his features. But that typical hopefulness is absent in his eyes, replaced with despair.

Heartbreak.

Hyunjin shoots the student a knowing smile. Because of his passion for the human mind, he had studied psychology in his own university days, before obtaining a doctorate and specializing in counseling— specifically, relationship counseling. He wears many different— and designer— hats: certified dating coach, therapist, and even researcher, when love needs to be approached as a neurological phenomenon in a laboratory setting. But his personal favorite role is being an expert on broken hearts. Something about being able to fix people satisfies the urge in Hyunjin to be the best, to be the brightest. What’s better than giving some of his light to someone who needs it?

“What’s your name?” Hyunjin steps closer to the edge of the stage, now fully focused on this poor fellow. Everyone else in the audience follows Hyunjin’s actions, curiously turning to get a better look of which lucky individual has been able to score a coveted interaction with Hyunjin.

The boy clears his throat nervously. “It’s Jeongin.”

“Jeongin,” Hyunjin tests, liking the playful feeling of the syllables on his tongue. He decides that the name fits the young man perfectly. “Why do you think that love isn’t real?”

“Because if it can come and go so quickly, it can’t be real.” Jeongin squares his shoulders before sitting up, a new fire in his voice. “If love dies before it’s even born, it must be a joke.”

Well, well, well.

Not only is this a broken heart, but this is a bitter broken heart— Hyunjin’s kryptonite, in the best possible way. Jeongin’s heart was soaring and then subsequently shattered, becoming one that Hyunjin is now dying to piece together, because there’s nothing he savors more than a challenge.

“I’ll ask you this.” Hyunjin slips his right hand out of his pocket, running his fingers through his hair. In one smooth motion, the dark, tousled locks fall back into an alluring set of eyes. “Do you want to be happy?”

Jeongin shakes his head, visibly frustrated. “What?”

Hyunjin isn’t deterred. “Love isn’t limited to just one person, Jeongin. Not even people in general.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Love is simply what makes us happy. It’s our unscratchable itch. Our insatiable need. Our comfort in crisis.” Hyunjin takes out the tiny metal laser pointer in his pocket and directs everyone to gaze at the massive screen looming behind him, flipping through the presentation that he prepared himself. Most of the high profile speakers at TED throw that task over to their personal secretaries, but then again, Hyunjin isn’t most people.

A bowl of soup. A plate of pasta. A dish of chocolate cake. A stacked tower of choux pastry puffs. His audience, as Hyunjin calculated, is bemused with his choice of slideshow content, although Hyunjin is infamous as a loveable eccentric. These are all pictures and no words at all.

“Is your passion cooking? Could you do it for the rest of your life? Will you just combust if you can’t whip up this croquembouche right this moment? That’s love.” Hyunjin lingers on the image of the French confection. “Love is what makes our cold nights warm again, the very driving force that pushes us to be the greatest possible versions of ourselves.”

If Hyunjin was any other speaker, the same onlookers would burst into laughter and walk away, muttering that he had lost his marbles. Who would try to make a point about the most confounding concept in all creation— the very entity that even the Stanford Encyclopedia of Psychology hesitantly attempted to define— with a series of pictures that belong in an episode of Chopped, not freaking TED? No one except Hyunjin, and rightfully so. It’s the reason why they all keep their backsides glued to the velvet upholstery, respectfully silent and anticipating being enlightened.

“Love can be platonic, love can be romantic, love can be anything in this whole universe. Love is what makes us human. It reminds us that life is worth it, that after all, maybe there’s something left to fight for.” Hyunjin gives Jeongin a small, but sincere smile. “It’s why I’ve committed myself to helping people find it, to protect it.”

Jeongin sits back in his seat in acceptance, and Hyunjin knows that even though the inferno has just subsided, not been completely put out, the flames probably aren’t so scorching anymore. Maybe he’s scored himself a new client.

Satisfied, Hyunjin turns back to the rest of his audience hungrily waiting for his eloquent scraps. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin. But you might know me as the Love Doctor.”

There are only so many episodes of Celebrity Wedding Disasters you can binge on Youtube before you begin to feel sick of yourself. Yes, watching freaking Brad Pitt get dumped at the altar makes you feel better about your own hopeless situation. But does it actually help your hopeless situation? No, it does not. Because watching other people suffer the same life as you does not solve your own problems. They’re all still there, at the end of the day, when you come home to an eerily quiet apartment, or in the morning, when you stretch out on your bed just to feel like you’re being swallowed up by the empty space next to you.

And now? The sound playing from your computer speakers starts to melt into a drone, and the artificial lighting of the videos on the screen blurs your vision, augmenting the sagging under your eyes. You haven’t gotten up from your little space in the corner of your living room in eight hours, resorting to hunching over your computer and surrounding yourself with snacks in case you got hungry. You’re clad in an old pajama set that’s too small for you and wrapped in a blanket that should have been put into the washing machine weeks ago. For the time since you gave up trying to work, you’ve been huddled in a fetal position on your couch, staring at your computer screen with no aim, no purpose.

Bashful rays of light peak through the gaps in the curtains drawn closed over the windows, and the air conditioner sputtered and shut down hours ago, after months of you putting repairs off. And your computer has died, but you’re too lazy to reach over to the outlet and plug your charger back in. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning, and every other healthy young person is probably out doing something productive or fun, definitely not being cooped up in their apartments after a myriad of trashy videos. But you count your blessings that you aren’t in the worst circumstance, because anything is better than dealing with—

The telltale trill of your cellphone knocks you out of thanking your stars, a cruel coincidence to the appreciation you harbored just moments earlier for the divinities above. The only people who would call you at a time like this— your time— would be the only people who you really, really didn’t want to see right now. You don’t even have to check the caller ID before you’re answering the phone, your signature snark prepared to lash out at any unwelcome dialogue.

“What?”

“Good morning to you too, Y/N,” Irene chirps, irritating you even further. “Lovely weather today. I’m with Sana and Mina.”

First, she interrupts your quality time brooding on your own, and second, she has the nerve to be cheerful about it. You try not to lose it and just scream at her to fuck off.

“Let’s skip the small talk, Irene. Can I help you?”

You don’t hate Irene, nor Sana and Mina, for the matter. You’re just tired of their presence in your life. Once upon a time, you were enthralled by these three pretty, wealthy, and perfect girls, letting them take you in and guide you through your youth. A tight-knit group since they were in diapers, the girls wouldn’t let just anyone into their circle, so the fact that they chose you to join them made you feel special. Being a part of them felt like being welcomed into a genuine friendship, a sisterhood. There were horror movie marathons snuggled together in your dorm rooms, gossip and advice sessions on the phone, late night drives with the music blasting on the stereo.

But that admiration and belonging turned into exhaustion, over time, and they became no better than a stereotypical high school clique. They were suffocating you, filling you with regret of ever meeting them at all. They couldn’t respect that you were your own person, with your own emotions, and that you solely were entitled to governing your actions. Little things built upon each other, and you slowly began to detest them. You truly found out how eroded your relationship with Irene, Sana, and Mina was almost two years ago. You were heartbroken, but all they had told you was to patch up and move on. Showing feeling and falling apart was unacceptable to the “Golden Trio,” as you came to call them, because it was “unhealthy” to them. Complete and utter happiness was always the goal, and you couldn’t bog yourself or the others down. Rest, rinse, and repeat. You came to realize that you would rather reject the good parts of the relationship rather than have your imperfections be dismissed and your life be controlled.

Before replying to you, Irene is quiet for a moment, and you swear you can hear her whispering to the other girls. “Are you still in bed?”

“No.” Technically, you aren’t lying— you’re on the sofa.

She sighs, seeing straight through your bullshit like she always did, the unspoken ringleader of the whole entourage. “It’s nearly ten in the morning, honey. Why don’t you come out to brunch with us in an hour or so?”

You roll your eyes. You hate when Irene calls you “honey”— it sounds sweet but has the most condescending undertone. “I’m busy.”

“Busy doing nothing. We need to talk to you. Please, Y/N. It’s important.”

Although having yet another fussy and feathery brunch with the Golden Trio is the absolute last thing you believe to be important, you know you have no other option. Irene will keep pestering you until you relent, so it’s better to save yourself the time and just get it over with. Balling up your fist, you reluctantly respond. “Fine.”

“Great! See you soon!” Irene trills, ending the call before you can even say goodbye. Not that you even wanted to, anyway.

With an enraged groan, you flop off of your stomach and open the windows, letting in some fresh air and sunlight. As you gaze outside of your window, observing the city slowly wake up, all you want to do is wallow in your self pity and frustration. For the longest time, you’ve told yourself that you’re fine with being alone; love just isn’t in the cards for someone like you. So you threw yourself into your job, struggling towards achieving your dreams, but as of late, the path to your passion has become another burden in your life.

Sighing, you shake away your thoughts and tidy up the living room, already put off by the microscopic chip crumbs on the coffee table and the way the throw pillows are strewn about on the rug. After everything is back in place, you make your way over to your room, silently noting that your sofa stay at least meant that you didn’t have to make your bed today. You take a shower and don yourself in your typical uniform of straight jeans, sneakers, and a boxy blazer. Cute, practical, and unassuming.

Quickly, you scarf down some toast and orange juice, because you definitely will not be able to afford even half of the menu items at the usual restaurant that the Golden Trio dines at for brunch. Before you lock your apartment and leave, you check yourself out in the mirror in the small corridor that houses the entrance.

“Just in and out,” you say to your reflection. “Breathe.”

The drive to brunch is less than fifteen minutes. However, you make a few unnecessary turns around the block in your second-hand Subaru, not ready to face the Golden Trio just yet.

At exactly eleven, Irene’s profile picture— a headshot taken by a professional photographer— pops up on your phone screen. You ignore it and swiftly find a parking spot among all of the luxury cars, muttering to yourself. The Terrace is an upscale eatery that the Golden Trio frequents for weekend brunches, and you’re unfortunately roped into their plans more often than not. You walk into the restaurant, dodging a businessman in a costly-looking suit and a group of renegading TikTok influencers trying to take pictures. You take your time greeting Keeho, the hilarious UCLA student who hosts at The Terrace during the weekends. And then you scan the outdoor dining patio, as if you don’t already know the location of the Golden Trio’s preferred table by the edge of the patio, the one with the perfect view of the Hollywood sign in the distance.

“Y/N!” Sana gasps in faux surprise as you take your seat next to her. “So nice of you to join us… thirteen minutes late.”

You clench your jaw and force a smile. “Oh, well, you did just call me an hour ago, so.”

Sana returns your sarcasm with an aggressive beam, showing off all of her perfectly aligned, blindingly white teeth. Mina watches the venomous exchange in amusement, while Irene just rolls her eyes.

“Let’s get to the point, ladies.” Irene leans forward, and the other two follow suit, like they always do.

You stay put in your chair, comfortably leaning back, like you always do. “I’d love to know why you called me to brunch, Irene. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“Nothing besides your damn computer is your scene,” Mina retorts, sipping on her mimosa. Irene purses her lips to hide her grin, while Sana openly cackles.

You glower at them, saying nothing. The Golden Trio sat around the array of gourmet dishes like hens around a feeding hopper, craning for the best cuts and chances of picking on you, as usual.

“Can you just stop wasting my time and tell me why I’m here?” You take a swig of water, already counting down the minutes until you can make up an excuse and leave early.

The girls exchange knowing glances before Irene zeroes in on you. Even though she’s the oldest out of all four of you, she still looks the most stunning, with her cherry lips and elegant features.

“Y/N, we’ve been thinking that it’s time for you to find someone.” Irene reaches across the table and grasps your hands, making you cringe in surprise.

You raise an eyebrow at Irene, already dreading what path this conversation is taking. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Irene delicately cuts into her vegetable omelet, taking a small bite. “We just want you to be happy. And we know that it’s been hard, ever since Jisung.”

At the mention of your ex-boyfriend, you wrench your hands out of Irene’s grip. “Don’t you dare bring him up.”

Mina smacks her lips, nonchalantly reapplying her magenta lipstick. “I told you that she’d be angry.”

Irene sighs, massaging her temples. “Be reasonable, Y/N. This is for your own good. You’ve been alone for too long.”

“That is not for you to decide.” You nearly want to laugh out loud at this point. “This is my business. Not yours.”

But then again, the girls have never been able to respect your own feelings. You are their puppet to string along and their doll to dress up. To them, you’re not a real human being, capable of making your own decisions— both good and bad.

Two years ago, you were dumped by your first and last boyfriend, Park Jisung. It was a traumatizing relationship, to say the least. For all your life, you’ve struggled with romance and just the whole idea of intimacy, of getting close to someone and truly letting them see you. Jisung had taken your fragile heart, the one you had so cautiously extended to him, and shattered it on the ground.

The months you were with him were so full of emotional abuse on his part, that by the time you caught him cheating on you, you weren’t even surprised. You’d pathetically begged him to stay, crying that you’d forgiven him, but after his initial apologies, he’d left you. What made you the angriest wasn’t the anguish he had caused you. It was how he’d gotten the last word, breaking up with you and leaving you behind to rot. You swore that you would never let someone do that to you again. Everyday, you go to bed alone and wake up alone. Every single day, and you don’t have any intention of changing that.

“Of course not,” Sana says, stabbing viciously at her eggs and making you wince. “But you know, appearances matter.”

Irene shakes her head. “Honey, this lonely, mopey look doesn’t suit you. Johnny says that people are talking, saying that you’re some sort of recluse.”

You scoff, blood boiling at the thought of Irene’s fiancé. He grew up on his father’s bottomless wallet and was no better than any stereotypical rich playboy. All he did was run his mouth and on occasion, his damn country club that you couldn’t even afford to step inside.

“She kind of is a recluse,” Mina interrupts. “Like, just get a life, maybe?”

Mina’s words sting, like they always do. But you refuse to give her the satisfaction, instead answering Irene. “I couldn’t care less about Johnny Suh and what his useless friends at the club are saying. I’m fine how I am.”

Sana dabs at her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smudge her makeup. “You’re not, though.”

Irene glares at Sana, shutting her up, before turning back to you. You recognize the look in her eyes; that soft, cajoling pull that makes anyone do her bidding. That look is why you had not left this toxic company yet, but you’re starting to feel the effect of it slowly wear off.

“Y/N. Just hear me out.” Irene sorts through her violet Kate Spade tote bag, before pulling out a business card and handing it to you.

In spite of yourself, you take the card, feeling the thick, rich quality of the paper, and the gold lettering.

“Dr. Hwang…” You read out loud. “‘The Love Doctor?’ What the hell?”

“He’s a relationship therapist and dating expert. He also runs a matchmaking service and coaches his clients.” Irene explains.

“I have eyes. I can read the card, Irene,” you spit out, turning the paper around in your fingers. “And I definitely don’t trust anyone recommended by you. Especially not some corny weirdo called the ‘Love Doctor.’”

“Oh, get over yourself, Y/N. I know a billion trainwrecks that Dr. Hwang has fixed.” Mina shudders in thought. “He’s pretty good, you know?”

“No, actually. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this stupid Love Doctor.” You grind your teeth, desperately trying not to slap some sense into Mina. “I’m not going to trust a stranger with all of my thoughts… my fears, my hopes.”

“This is such a waste of time,” Sana whines, getting up from her seat and smoothing out her dress. “I’m going to go talk to Chris. BRB, girls.”

Sana flounces away in the direction of the hot bartender mixing and pouring drinks for patrons. Mina rolls her eyes, picking at her acrylic nails.

“She literally has a boyfriend,” Mina huffs, before getting up and following after her.

You turn back to Irene. “Is that how you want me to be? Both Sana and Mina are in relationships, except one pretends to not have a boyfriend, and the other is too bitchy to care about hers.”

“You’re not wrong.” Irene lets out a hearty chuckle, tracing the rim of her champagne flute. “But no one outside of our circle really knows about what’s going on with them, behind the scenes. They’re still perfect.”

“Why does it matter so much? Being perfect? Why does it matter so much to you if I am?” You question her, at a loss.

“I care about you.” Irene folds her hands in front of her plate. “You’re my friend.”

Friend.

That word takes you back to a few years ago, when you weren’t able to find a date to the frat party Johnny threw when you were all in college. You failed to follow Irene’s instructions, and as the expected result, Irene didn’t bother saying anything to you. You felt her anger through her silent treatment, as you stood by the door, feeling like a loser. You watched the rest of the Golden Trio giggle with their own dates, and Irene— no matter how big of a crush she used to have on Johnny before they became an item— was staring at you all night, soaking in your shame and unhappiness. You should have realized back then that the Golden Trio was just gilt. At least, you have now.

You snort in wry amusement, grabbing your keys and slapping down a fifty on the table, your general portion of the meal you didn’t even partake in. “I don’t know what I am to you, but I’m definitely not your fucking friend.”

Ignoring Irene’s pleas hitting your retreating back, you leave The Terrace, vowing never to go back.

On the weekends, you usually either work from home or aimlessly surf the internet. Either way, you’ll be staring at your computer until your eyes hurt. Today, however, you’re determined to prove that you can take a day off and enjoy it. It’s why you walk out of the luxury salon after being scrubbed, steamed, waxed, plucked, and primped all over your body. You don’t even want to think of how expensive it all was, completely disregarding the shiny $200 acrylics adorning your nails.

You spend the rest of the day browsing a vintage bookstore on the Los Angeles marina, devoutly avoiding the romance section like you always did. After splurging on a set of horror novels by the latest trending author, you decide to go home and relax— just because you aren’t outside doesn’t mean you’re moping around, unlike what the Golden Trio believes.

Who needs some hotshot Love Doctor when you’ve got Stephen King?

Sitting back on your couch with your book, you kick out your legs in front of you and attempt to unwind. But of course, you’re one line into the first page when your thoughts get the better of you. You glance across the open-concept layout of your apartment and over at your handbag, which is haphazardly strewn onto your bed; the business card that Irene gave you seems to be an incessant force in your mind. After a few seconds of trying to fight the urge to not let your curiosity best you, you give up, rolling off the sofa and rummaging through the bag to find the card.

Palming the small piece of paper, you settle onto your bed on your stomach, dimming the lights and logging into your computer. You type in the website address listed on the card into Google, impatiently tapping on the mouse. Finally, the page loads.

Your vision is blessed by a soft palette of pinks and beiges, a sparkling layout, flashy buttons and graphics, all designed to reel in even the most technologically inept grandparents. But that’s not what you’re enticed by: a giant picture of the most beautiful man that you have ever laid eyes on is pasted onto the main cover of the website. Immediately, you read further only to find out that this total babe is the Love Doctor that Irene couldn’t shut the fuck up about.

You zoom in on the bio printed below the image, devouring it like the King novel you should be reading instead right now. “What the…?”

Dr. Hwang Hyunjin is a lot of things: a relationship therapist, intimacy expert, dating coach, psychology researcher, and etc. But the title that truly encapsulates his essence is: the Love Doctor, the savant who leads his clients through the pains and triumphs of life, loss, and of course, love.

After graduating from Columbia University summa cum laude and obtaining his doctorate in psychology at Stanford, Dr. Hwang founded SeoulSpark, a practice dedicated to providing guidance and opportunities for any with those special ailments of the heart. The rest of Dr. Hwang’s credentials and outstanding achievements are listed below. In his freetime, Dr. Hwang loves to write poetry, go horseback riding, and take long walks on the beach.

Appointments must be reserved through the ‘Bookings’ page. Dr. Hwang and his associates may be requested on the basis of availability.

A few minutes of getting sidetracked in an internet stalking session alerted you to how in addition to overseeing his own private practice and working there as a therapist and coach, Dr. Hwang also operates a clinical trial on the neuropsychological approach of studying the nature of love at the National Institutes of Health. And to top it all off, he comes highly recommended by Selena Gomez in her latest Vogue interview— turns out, he’s the one who helped her move on from Justin Beiber and find a more gratifying partner— and has even met with Michelle Obama over tea on NPR’s Life Kit podcast to discuss the psychology of relationships. He’s a public figure, a celebrity of sorts himself, but has graciously rejected the title in favor of a more private life.

“Wow,” you murmur. “So he’s hot and smart.”

Irene and her sidekicks are wrong about a lot, but one thing they are right about is that you’re just absolutely lonely. Growing up, you were a hopeless romantic who constantly dreamed of a fairytale romance, romanticizing every aspect of your interactions with others. But a lifetime of being unlucky in love taught you that there is no such thing as true love.

First, there was a series of unfortunately unrequited crushes in high school, all ending in you watching the boy you liked ride off into the sunset with someone else— usually a popular, pretty girl. Then came Holland, the cute boy in your calculus class who seemed like he actually returned your feelings. You both flirted for a while, before Holland ended up secretly coming out to you as gay. And of course, there was Jisung, the dirtbag who told you he loved you and then proceeded to break your heart. Love obviously isn’t on the cards for you.

Therefore, you’re now an insufferable pessimist when it comes to romance. You make fun of every couple you see in public, religiously watch wedding fails on Youtube, and absolutely hate romantic comedies. You stonily ignore the Tinder app that Mina once pressured you into downloading, even though it’s burning a hole into your phone.

You try to fill up that void in your heart by throwing yourself into work or participating in those idiotic “girls nights” that Irene throws, which usually just entail grinding up on drunk trust funders on someone’s yacht.

But on a night like this, you’re bound to confront the truth: you are alone, and deep inside, you know you don’t want to be, no matter how much you pretend you don’t care. Which is why you let the computer cursor hover over the various appointment time slots, considering registration.

Wait, what? You shoot up from your previous position, sitting straight as every ounce of lethargy exits your body. You cannot actually be thinking of this guy’s services, especially when the recommendation came from Irene. But then again, do you really want your decisions to be determined by her? Do you care enough about spiting her that you’ll prevent your own happiness? What if this Love Doctor actually works?

With a groan, you go back to scrolling through Dr. Hwang’s bio once more, weighing your options, when you notice a link at the bottom of the page. You click on it, and it takes you to a video uploaded on Youtube. The bold, glaring red letters and the dark, dramatic backdrop alert you to a TED talk— and a very cherished one, too, with how thunderous the applause is when welcoming the speaker.

Intrigued, you sit forward, promising yourself that your assessment of Dr. Hwang’s TED talk will determine whether or not you’ll see both his physical and evidently intellectual gorgeousness in real life or not. However, from the very first question that he utters, you know your decision.

“What is love?”

You’re sweaty. You’d like to blame it on the unforgiving Los Angeles heat, but you once read that seeing a therapist is like owning your truth. You want to start being honest even before you meet Dr. Hwang, so you accept that the dampness under your arms is due to the fact that you are just really fucking nervous.

After tossing and turning in your bed all night, you tried your best to look presentable. You showered, blow-dried your hair, and put on minimal makeup reserved for special occasions. But the pretty yellow sundress and sandals that you chose— in the spirit of being symbolically optimistic— feel elementary right now, especially now that you’re setting foot inside the most glamorous office you have ever encountered.

Upon observing the magnificently dripping crystal chandelier adorning the ceiling, marble flooring that you’re afraid of scuffing, and a jazz rendition of “Clair de lune” playing in the background, you’re convinced that this place is much too luxurious to be a shrink’s company space. Hell, it’s on the ninth floor of one of the ritziest buildings downtown. But, then again, you definitely weren’t expecting the person that Irene recommended to be this otherworldly adonis, instead of some kind of Karen ready to lecture you about having a “healthy love life” or “putting out”— yes, you do watch too much TV and have quite the imagination, so you try to keep your judgements and lofty expectations to a minimum.

After signing-in with the receptionist— this sweet guy with freckles, sunny blond hair, and an even sunnier disposition— you sit down on the white leather sofa in the lobby. According to the brochure you swiped at the front desk, this place is so big that it has separate wings, like the freaking Hogwarts castle: one for therapy and coaching— or “guidance”— one for matchmaking services, and one for “health,” where clients and employees alike can rewind and socialize. Following a few minutes of rapidly swiping through the home screen and apps on your phone, trying to look occupied and definitely not intimidated by everything, the receptionist calls your name and directs you to Dr. Hwang’s office.

You know you’re incredibly lucky to have scored a session with Dr. Hwang, who’s obviously the most sought-after on the full list of all who work at SeoulSpark. Last night, when you were scouring SeoulSpark’s Yelp reviews (all of them were five-stars), people were raving about Dr. Hwang. Yet, as you walk through the luxe little corridor that leads you to the guidance sector, you can’t help but feel the regret that unfurls in your stomach. Perhaps you were subconsciously following Irene’s orders, that natural instinct to follow and not think still manifesting. Perhaps you were just enticed by Dr. Hwang’s visuals and repertoire. Or maybe, you just wanted to do something with your damn time for once, instead of constantly thinking about how sucky your life is. Either way, this all feels like a mistake, but it’s too late to turn back now, especially since the woman that you assume is Dr. Hwang’s assistant has spotted you.

She gets up from her desk. “Hello there! You must be Y/N.”

“That’s me!” You exclaim, in a way that probably seems too enthusiastic to be genuine. Your eyes trail to the name badge pinned to the lapel of her stylish cream-colored pantsuit. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Jang.”

“Likewise,” she says with a friendly smile that just accentuates her flawless features.

Is everyone who works here just ridiculously attractive?

“Dr. Hwang is all ready for you.”

You quickly thank her, wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt and praying you don’t look scared. The last thing you want to do is freak out your potential therapist with your horrendous love life, even though his literal job is to deal with basket cases of romance. Taking in a deep breath, you warily place your hands on the grand pair of frosted glass doors adjacent to Ms. Jang’s desk and push them open.

A cool gust of air welcomes you into Dr. Hwang’s office, and the first thing you notice is the blinding natural light flooding from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The one time you ever visited a therapist was immediately after the whole ordeal with Jisung; the cramped little room filled with wilted potted plants and dim light from a depressing yellow lamp had made you want to never see another therapist again. This place, however, looks more like one of those glitzy workspaces straight out of a Manhattan legal drama. You can practically see the dollar signs stamped onto everything here, from the panache but tasteful L-shaped sofa to the sultry modern art adorning the blush-colored walls. But the impeccable interior design is not what has got you temporarily incapacitated—

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

A voice as smooth as his honeyed skin and perpetual charm. A fresh breath of air in the merciless Californian heat that constitutes your entire life. A tidal wave upon the drowsy coastline of your heart. Absolute sin in your undeserving ears. You ponder what language even is, if you’ve never heard anyone articulate their entire aura like this in a mere jumble of words. Dr. Hwang smiles at you warmly— a sight that should remind you of a toasty cup of hot chocolate, but instantly spreads a raging, insatiable wildfire through your nerves.

You speechlessly stay rooted to the spot like a damn oak tree as Dr. Hwang approaches you, with the controlled movement and dripping allure of a jaguar. As he nears you, you have to blink multiple times to adjust to how truly dazzling he is, and how the pictures of him online cannot even compare to his person. You would not hesitate to believe him if he claimed that he walked here straight off the runway, but his beauty is rapturous, less of an airbrushed model and more reminiscent of a Botticelian masterpiece.

Maybe Charles Dickens was wrong— you see everything you want in the glittering multitude that makes up Hyunjin’s eyes. Big, soulful, contemplative. A gaze like a midnight reverie. A radiance like black diamonds encased in velvet. They reel you in like you’re silk thread and he’s a needle, like you’re an astronomer and he’s the entire galaxy. You take in the mole under his left eye, and it reminds you of a stray splatter of dark paint on an ivory canvas. It’s enchanting, like a lone star in the night sky.

“You’re good.” You barely manage, now focused on his lips that are just begging to be kissed. A delicate pink, like the lingering stain after eating cherries. Full and inviting, soft with the promises of a good time. On your own lips. On your skin. On your neck.

Those pretty lips curve into an enigmatic smile, Cheshire-like almost. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

The way he pronounces your name so eloquently sends a spark straight through your body. You never thought much of your name, but with how Hyunjin says it, it might as well be one of those irresistible words that Pinterest logophiles save. It sounds lovely, ethereal, sublime. Just like him.

“And you as well, Dr. Hwang.” You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down, but instead, you get a breath full of his scent; he smells like a rainstorm over a field of jasmine. Tantalizingly petrichor, with a slightly floral and sensual edge.

“Please, call me Hyunjin.”

“O-okay, Hyunjin.” A bewitching name for an even more bewitching man.

Hyunjin gestures for you to sit down on the sofa and positions himself on the chair behind his desk, a smoke-cracked glass piece arranged in front of a transparent wall that provides breathtaking views of downtown L.A. You can only imagine what the views are like at night— the city lights, of course. Definitely not of Hyunjin pushing you onto his costly desk and doing you in the dark.

“So, Y/N, darling,” Hyunjin begins, spreading his hands out on the desk in front of him.

Darling?! Ohmyfuckinggod.

You cough. “Sorry?”

“Tell me anything. Impressions, ruminations. Just be honest.”

That’s new and different. You thought Hyunjin would dole out the usual pleasantries, like “how are you” or “the weather is nice,” not ask you to “be honest.” What kind of person expects blatant candor after knowing them for literal seconds? Well, a therapist, probably. And a very eccentric one, at that. So you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Everyone here seems so… happy. It’s weird.” The hot receptionist, Hyunjin’s secretary, and even the janitor wiping the floors in the lobby.

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes squinting into a crescent moon shape that you find very endearing. “Well, they seem happy because they are. Happiness isn’t rare.”

“Feels like it most of the time,” you mutter, your thoughts flashing over to work, Irene, and all of the times that you eat dinner alone.

“That’s why you’re here, no?” Hyunjin folds his hands. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asking me questions? And I answer them? Isn’t that what most therapists do?”

“I’m not like most therapists. This is how it begins.”

Of course you aren’t.

As you hesitate, Hyunjin keeps quiet patiently while letting your thoughts unfurl. Maybe it was Jisung, or maybe it was being constantly let down by the people around you, but somewhere along the way, you lost trust in others— you wouldn’t ever let them see who you really are. Ever since, you’ve put up your guard walls, harboring a testy, stormy attitude that scares anyone away before they can ever leave you behind. You put up with the Golden Trio’s nonsense because although they practically used you for their own enjoyment, at least they had never withdrawn for you. You don’t hate yourself, but you don’t feel content with who you are. You never knew if you really would be.

And you don’t know Hyunjin. To you, he’s the man whose photos you pored over on Google, the one who you held a sparse conversation for a matter of mere minutes. You shouldn’t want to be exposed in front of him, but you know you already are, with the way his piercing gaze seems to see right through you. For the first time, you don’t hate the feeling of being vulnerable. You don’t know if it’s the kindness in his bedroom eyes that haven’t strayed from you, or if it’s the warmth that even someone as regal as him exudes, but you embrace the feeling of security that his presence wraps you in. Like your inhibitions are drowning in the distant crevices of your mind. You don’t know what it is that compels you to tell this beautiful stranger anything, but for once, you don’t question it.

“I’m just so tired of my damn life.”

The words come out of you in a rush, a sob, almost, because it feels so good to finally say it out loud. You’ve kept your dissatisfaction inside of you for the longest time, just pretending that the grumpiness is part of your personality, not your sadness, because you’ve always been afraid of what people would say. But when you peek up at him, Hyunjin’s expression betrays nothing. Placid, and waiting for you to go on. So you do.

“Nothing seems to be working. I try, try, and try to do better at work, but lately, even my dream job feels like a burden. I don’t really have any friends. I’m single. I act like I’m fine, but I’m really not. I don’t want to feel like this, like I’m trapped. I don’t want to give Jisung that much power over me, but unfortunately, he does have it all.” A huge weight has been lifted off of your drooping shoulders, but the bitterness still remains on your tongue.

Hyunjin takes a moment to finish up whatever notes he’s jotting down in his cream-colored journal, before looking up at you. “And Jisung is your ex?”

You freeze. You didn’t even realize that you brought up Jisung, and even worse, you completely overlooked how he probably knows a lot more about you than you think. After registering for an appointment, you were redirected to fill out this short quiz filled with questions about your romantic history, your job, and basic information. Like a slightly intruding business dinner in the form of a questionnaire. You couldn’t finish the form without getting slightly tipsy on wine, because of how gut-wrenching it was reliving everything. You forgot that your coach would have access to your answers, after brushing it all off as a silly formality. And you really thought this would all be genuine.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief and skepticism. “You already know, Dr. Hwang. Why bother asking me? You have my questionnaire results. You think I’m hopeless. You’re just being polite.”

“Hyunjin,” he corrects, undeterred by your words. “And I actually don’t. I look at the results after I meet with my clients. I would rather garner my first impression of you on the person you really are, not through an online quiz.”

“Then how did you know that Jisung’s my ex?”

Hyunjin’s eyes crinkle with tenderness. “It wasn’t very difficult. He hurt you, I can see it.”

You swallow harshly, overwhelmed both by the thought of Jisung and the way Hyunjin’s looking at you right now. Compassion, gentleness, understanding. A complete foil to the constant indifference and borderline aversion Jisung treated you with. Right now, you don’t feel ugly, even with your scars so raw, open. You feel seen. You realize that Hyunjin has a way of getting you to open up by saying very little.

“He was my first boyfriend. First love, first kiss, first… well, you know.” You pause, blushing at the words that have escaped your mouth, but continue in spite of your shame. To hell with it. “He made me feel wanted, for once. I mean, I’ve literally been a fake date for my gay ex-situationship, and the first time I tried to get into a real relationship, which was with my former neighbor, he ghosted me after two dates. And then he moved away. Jisung… he gave me everything I thought I needed.”

You look up at Hyunjin, unsure. The tears are already shining in your eyes, threatening to spill out. Hyunjin nods encouragingly, pushing you on.

“We were together for almost a year. And the entire time, he gaslighted me into doubting myself. He always kept cheating on me, I knew that. But I finally caught him screwing his assistant in my bed, right before we broke up.” You close your eyes. “No, before he broke up with me. God, my friends were right. I am so pathetic.”

Hyunjin sets his pen down firmly on the glass table, making you open your eyes. His starry gaze is intense, like that all-too-familiar inferno settled inside of you. “Darling, those are no friends of yours. There’s nothing pathetic about believing in someone, for putting your faith in them. Don’t ever say that again.”

“Right. Because I didn’t tell him over and over again that I forgave him. I didn’t beg him to stay, when he said he was tired of me. When he wanted new things.” You let out a dry laugh. “When it was over, everyone acted like I fumbled. Hell, he works at SM Technologies. Rich, handsome, well-connected.”

“Fuck that hack. That’s not why you loved him, though,” Hyunjin insists, his explicit language surprising you. Even in this way, he seems more poised than you ever could be. “You loved him because he made you feel loved. He accepted you. You lowered your standards for him, and he used you.”

You turn your head away from Hyunjin, not wanting him to watch you cry. But you know he’s already seen the tears streaming freely down your cheeks. “So, are you supposed to help me move on from here? Find someone new? SeoulSpark has matchmaking services, right? I mean, it’s been two years, and I’m still not over it. Sorry I’m a fucking antiromantic.”

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to shake his head. “Darling, you’re misunderstanding me. I don’t help my clients find relationships. I don’t care if you walk out still single or if you’re polyamorous. I care that you’re happy, satisfied with who you are, romantically. I’m here to guide you through that. Let me help you.”

The tears that had dripped so effusively onto your skin dry as Hyunjin holds your gaze, studying your features and saying nothing. And then your stomach chooses that inopportune moment to grumble, and very loudly indeed. In that astoundingly mortifying moment, you swear to never, ever skip breakfast again.

Hyunjin clears his throat, rising from his seat. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? Or eat, maybe?”

“Um, a mango?” You don’t know why, or how, but your brain just zeroes in on mangoes. You don’t even like the damn fruit. Who the fuck would specifically ask for mangoes, instead of something reasonable, like coffee, or tea? You glare up at the ceiling, cursing your emotional dry spell for making you act so embarrassingly.

But Hyunjin just smiles. “Mangoes. A criminally overlooked aphrodisiac. People call it the love fruit, you know.”

You gulp. Now you’re imagining Dr. Hwang— er, Hyunjin— chopping up a bunch of whole mangoes like he’s in Fruit Ninja, before erotically eating each slice, licking at the flesh, juice slowly dripping down that chin sculpted by the gods. Two seconds ago, you were crying about your evil ex and now you’re dreaming about Hyunjin starring as some sort of a seductive sensei.

What the fuck?!

“Oh. Yeah, I didn’t know that.”

Hyunjin is unfazed by your awkwardness, simply walking over to the pink-pastel minifridge in the corner of his office and bringing out a paper bowl of unfortunately pre-cut mangoes that you accept gingerly. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you.” You cautiously place a cube of mango in your mouth.

Your eyes suddenly widen at the sweet yet tangy explosion of flavor on your tongue. Creamy yet juicy, refreshing yet indulging, just succulent on your lips. Hyunjin giggles at your amazed reaction to the fruit. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” You chew on the tart skin of the mango and swallow. “Do you know where your secretary might have bought this?”

“Wonyoung didn’t buy it, I did.” Hyunjin grins, sipping on his own glass of water. “5-Star Grocery. I went just today, actually.”

You finish off the rest of the fruit in no time, swiping the mango residue on your fork clean with your lips. When you’re done, you look up from the bowl to see Hyunjin gazing intently at you. You were probably taking forever to eat, and he was waiting for you. “Oh, sorry about that. This was really good.”

Hyunjin shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, it’s not that.”

You curiously tilt your head at him, wondering what’s got him so worked up. “Did I say something, Dr. Hwa- I mean, Hyunjin?”

“No, you didn’t.” Hyunjin stands up and takes your bowl, throwing it away in the disposal for you. “Let’s get back to our conversation.”

You nod, your thoughts fluttering back to Jisung, the ache replacing the lust that reigned inside of you, moments earlier. “I have tried to see other people, but it’s been hard.”

“How so?” Hyunjin clicks on his pen, putting it in a position ready to write.

You toy with the hem of your dress, your face heating up. “I tried using Tinder. I even matched with this one guy, San. We got dinner. But later that night, when… when we were about to um, have sex, I just couldn’t. San was really nice and understanding about everything, but I felt so bad. I’ve only slept with one person before, Jisung, and I don’t know. It’s so humiliating.”

Hyunjin frowns. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. First, it’s normal to be wary of intimacy after a long-term relationship. And second, we all have varying levels of sexual comfort. You’ll find your own pace. Our sexuality is essential to our health, and there’s nothing humiliating about it.”

“It’s not like I’m not experienced, though,” you say quickly.

Hyunjin looks up from his notepad and raises an eyebrow at you. You sputter over your impulsive words and try to explain. “It’s just that I have trouble being vulnerable with others, both physically and emotionally. There was only Jisung. And he wasn’t that good at it, to be honest. But I thought it shouldn’t stop me from finding out by myself what I like. That’s all.”

For a second, you think Hyunjin will make fun of you, but he just solemnly nods. “Absolutely. I always tell my clients this. There’s nothing wrong with masturbating. It’s incredibly healthy, whether or not you’re in a relationship.”

You exhale shakily, your cheeks aflame. You know it’s his literal job, but you can’t help but feel both admiration and jealousy at how straightforward Hyunjin is while talking about sex. His whole aura seeps with confidence, like it comes easily to him. Your self-consciousness could never. “Right.”

He sighs in thought, scribbling into your notepad as you restlessly wait for him to say something, fidgeting in your seat. Hyunjin then sets his notepad aside, logging into his sleek Apple iMac computer and rapidly typing into it. “I have something for you to do, darling.”

You immediately tense at the thought of more work, especially if Hyunjin is going to be your grader. “Like, homework?”

Hyunjin laughs. “No. Think of it as a fun little task. Remember, nothing I ask you to do is obligatory. You choose to be here.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.” You square your shoulders like a soldier. Whatever your assignment is, you’re going to knock it out of the park and impress Hyunjin. Definitely because you look up to him as a person, not because you want him to rail you into the next century.

Hyunjin leans forward, like he’s about to indulge you with a delicious secret, and you find yourself doing the same. “I want you to write down on paper one thing you love about yourself every day of the week, starting today. Bring the sheet to me when we meet again next week.”

You sit back, your heart sinking while your mind wakes in panic. And of all things, the assignment has to be this. You could fib your way through it, of course, jotting down the stupid, trivial aspects of yourself that aren’t so bad. But considering it all, asking yourself that question would really make you face the ugly truth: do you even love yourself?

“Wait, what do you mean? Like, what does it have to be? Physical? Emotional? Professional? Personal? I don’t think—”

Hyunjin smoothly cuts you off. “Like I said, this is your choice to complete. And it can be anything you cherish about yourself. Anything. This is your opportunity to show-off.”

You shake your head, frustrated. “But why, though? I don’t get the point of this.”

“I need to be able to get an idea of what specific path will best fit you, whether it’s solo therapy to help your mindset and esteem, matchmaking to get you connected with individuals who complement you, or coaching to provide you with guidance in potential relationships. So for now, I want to get to know you. ”

“If you wanted to get to know me, you’d ask questions like, ‘what do you do,’ or ‘what’s your favorite color,’ Hyunjin,” you say, irked. “This is just going to be another thing I fail at.”

“Darling,” Hyunjin says, firmly but gently. “Your profession and favorite color, while intriguing, isn’t knowledge I need to work with you. The most important service of all is helping my clients’ self-perception and confidence in romance, and I need to know what level you are on. Take it slow, it’s okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The familiar warmth spreads throughout your body. Compassion, gentleness, understanding. You harbor so much insecurity that it affects so much of your daily life. You don’t go out. You work yourself down and out. You wallow in your misery. You’re a pessimist who doesn’t believe in true love. And you receive endless judgment for it, because really, who wouldn’t be disgusted by someone like you? But being with Hyunjin feels different, because he is accepting you for who you are and promising you the guidance you’ve always needed.

“We can assess what aforementioned action to take next week, when I’ve had time to assess you,” Hyunjin declares as you agree, ripping out a piece of paper from his notebook and writing down the task on it for you to take home.

And then you’re pulled back into reality. You’re well-educated and smart. You have a good job that pays well. You like to read Scientific American in your freetime, because sometimes, you would rather face the facts than meld into opinions. And you know exactly what’s happening right now. It’s barely been your first session with Hyunjin, and you’re already getting attached to him, because he’s giving you the kind of care and attention that you’ve been craving. It’s a phenomenon called transference, you know that. The butterfly garden flitting in your stomach is a mere sensory illusion, you know that. But you also know that you are feeling something.

As Hyunjin hands you the slip of paper, his hands brush yours lightly, and you can’t help but exhale sharply at where his skin has made contact with yours. Maybe you’re touch-starved, but you can’t help but feel like a longing character in a Victorian romance novel. You look down at his hands as he retracts them. Large, smooth palms, and long fingers decked in silver rings.

“But that will be all for now, darling.”

God, he’s sexy.

“Really? Is that all?” You glance at the rose gold clock hanging on the wall behind you. It’s barely been thirty minutes. “We’re done so soon?”

Hyunjin grins at you, flashing those crescent moons once again. “I didn’t know you were that eager to stay here.”

You clear your throat, furiously blushing. “I mean, I thought the session would last longer. So I’ll come back next week then.”

“This was a diagnostic, darling. And yes, I’ll see you next week. You should make an appointment with Wonyoung before you leave.”

Hyunjin beams at you pleasantly while you reluctantly grab your purse, and you briefly wonder if he looks just as lovely when his partner pleasures him— if he has a partner. But then again, there is no way someone as good-looking and sweet as him is single. The thought of Hyunjin fucking someone simultaneously sparks envy and turns you on, and you quickly shake it away.

“Thank you so much, Hyunjin. And um, I’m sorry if I came off as kind of coarse, it’s… I’m working on it.” You tilt your head towards him, hoping he gets what you’re trying to convey. You’re not amazing with words, or controlling your emotions very well, and any product of that today was not meant to hurt him.

“You did nothing wrong. I’m glad you decided to come here, Y/N.” Hyunjin walks you across his expansive office.

“And I love your nails, by the way.” Hyunjin states, his gaze pointed down at your hands. “Pink’s my favorite color.”

You flush a pink that’s deeper than the object of his compliments. Pink, huh? You wonder about what other pink things that Hyunjn may like. Pink roses? Raspberries? Flamingoes? You’d bring them all to him if he asked.

Hyunjin graciously opens the door leading to the corridor for you, and you shoot him a small smile, as he returns it. His hand skims the small of your back as he leads you out, and you pray that you don’t look like a lustful maniac. Unaware of your internal frenzy, Hyunjin waves goodbye to you as he lets in his next client waiting outside and shuts the door behind him.

Wonyoung asks you a plethora of questions about your availability next week, your mind stays on Hyunjin while you schedule your next appointment. You don’t waver even when you exit the SeoulSpark and unlock your car in the visitor parking lot, collapsing into the seat in a daze. Even when you find yourself plugging in directions on Google Maps to find the quickest route to 5-Star Grocery, your thoughts don’t stay from Hyunjin. Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin.

You take your time strolling through the multicolored aisles of 5-Star, blankly gazing at all of the overpriced foodstuffs while daydreaming about the way that Hyunjin’s hand had accidentally brushed against you, even if it was inadvertent. You want his fingers on your body. In your body. In your mouth. Anywhere, and everywhere.

You brighten up as you near the produce section and spy the hefty crate of what you came for: very expensive imported Indian mangoes. But without a second thought, you place a generous pile of the fresh fruit into a plastic cover and put it into your cart. And you swear you can catch the lingering scent of Hyunjin from when he was here earlier today. Rainstorms. Jasmine. Danger. You practically combust at the thought of Hyunjin scouring the baskets of mangoes for the very best picks with those crescent moon eyes, wishing it was you instead that he could have been gazing so purposefully at. On the way out, like some kind of a divine coincidence, you notice that a local florist has set up their stand at the entrance of the grocery. As you approach, the overflowing clay pots of jasmine crowd your sensations.

The drive back home feels like it lasts hours, when in reality, the store is only a few minutes away from your place. As soon as you’re inside your apartment, you throw open all of the window shutters, dismissing the ominous weather forecast on the radio. A much bigger tempest brews somewhere else. The late evening breeze through your windows is like a pirate sailing into your mind, hoarding your sanity and coaxing in all of your disgraceful thoughts. And you welcome the ship like a safe harbor because it’s been far too long since you’ve ever felt this outrageously alive.

The tiny light in your kitchen provides some leeway for you to work, as you stow away your groceries in the fridge and bring out the glass cutting board that your menace of coworker gave you as a gag gift; you would burn the whole house down before cooking anything, and he knows that. Yet, you kind of feel like goddamn Gordon Ramsay as you cut through the mango dexterously to produce those perfect cubes that Hyunjin presented you with.

With a sigh, you collapse into one of the mismatched chairs at your dining table. You once slaved away into late nights at this table, blue light glasses perched on your nose while you were engrossed in lines of code. Nowadays, you sleep late for less productive reasons or just because you are in a destructive mood and planning your future world takeover. But you have a feeling that might change soon.

Slowly, you put a piece of the sweet mango in your mouth, savoring the saccharinity and longing for it to pervade all aspects of your life beyond your palate. You find that it tastes a little less delectable because Hyunjin isn’t here with you, but you finish the entire bowl of fruit nevertheless. Still not satisfied, however, you bring out a second mango, still searching for that spark you had felt earlier.

This time, you don’t even bother cutting the fruit, instead breaking the skin of the mango with your teeth and allowing the juice to leak onto your tongue. A little better, but you wish you were biting down on Hyunjin’s plush lips instead. You feel like you’ve been hexed by the Love Doctor, because there’s no chance that a romantic Scrooge like you is fantasizing about the emotional and physical reincarnation of Aphrodite.

Yet, he must have shot you with his quiver of arrows, rendering you clinically insane, because as you reach for your third mango, you feel your free hand trailing down to the place between your thighs that’s begging for your touch. You spread your legs so that your knees are facing out on either side of you, and your dress has now ridden up to your hips, exposing your now wet cotton panties for no one to see.

But you imagine that he’s watching, stroking himself and getting off along with you. Not even bothering to slide them off, you push your panties to the side and finally press your fingers against your aching cunt. Chewing on the delicate skin of mango, you slide your fingers through your drenched folds, thankful to finally get a chance to relieve yourself. As you concentrate on the fruit’s taste, you wonder what Hyunjin would think of your own, sucking on his own fingers after fucking you with his pretty hands. He’d push you down to get a complete taste, attaching his mouth to your pussy to get both an idea and a release.

Moaning out loud, you circle your clit, enjoying the flickers of pleasure coursing through you. Not minding the juice now dripping down your chin and onto your collarbone, you pull down the front of your dress, freeing your breasts. You gently pinch your nipple with your left hand and let out a small gasp, craving for Hyunjin to be the one inducing such sinful pain into you.

“Just like that, darling.”

“Oh God, Hyunjin!” You call out his name and squeeze your breast, now fucking yourself on your fingers while simultaneously grinding the heel of your palm against your clit for that delicious extra friction.

“So good for me.”

Waves of ecstasy wash over you as you ride out your high, sloppily thrusting and circling your hips on your soaked hand. You come to the final thought of Hyunjin pushing a slice of mango down the valley between your breasts, tracing and cleaning the sticky juice with his tongue. And there’s the spark, igniting a whole flame of fulfillment deep inside of you.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you fix your dress and get up from your chair, taking out a paper towel to wipe the mess of your arousal and fruit juice on the seat. Your cheeks burn with the after effects of your release, and yet, you don’t feel any shame. Instead, there’s a strange sense of liberation that you are starting to come to terms with.

Clipping up your hair, you make your way over to the desk in your bedroom and take out a fresh sheet of paper. Armed with a glass of freshly puréed mango juice and accompanied by the tantalizing scent of your jasmine plant, you pull out a pink gel pen and let the words pour out.

“So, Y/N. Were you able to do what I asked?” Hyunjin cocks his head expectantly.

You reach into your handbag and pull out the paper, passing it to Hyunjin with trembling hands. “I did it.”

You came to SeoulSpark straight from work, deliberately skipping your usual jeans and blazer combination for a skinny pencil skirt paired with a powder-pink button down that matches the walls of Hyunjin’s office. Slightly transparent silk stockings disappear under the skirt, which skims the top of your knees.

When you were pulling on your barely-worn cream slingback pumps in the morning, you had wondered what this entire outfit was for. You had stood up and gazed critically into the mirror, and all you could feel was empowerment. Because for the first time, it felt like something you were truly doing for yourself. You weren’t proving a point. And you knew you weren’t dressing for Hyunjin either, but rather, because of him. He made you question if you were treating yourself right, and you wanted to answer it well. The pink blouse was a playful touch that you couldn’t help.

Hyunjin takes his time reading through the paper, and this time, you’re the one observing his every reaction, from the quirk of his brow to the way he occasionally licks his lips to wet them. The latter action sparks a memory of one week ago, when you indulged yourself in absurdly fantasizing about those very lips all over you. You press your legs together, ignoring the dull throb in between, and try not to think of it, focusing on the unsexiest things your mind can come up with. Climate change. Warts. Donald Trump.

“This is a good list to start with.” Hyunjin looks up at you, eyes twinkling. “All true, right?”

You nod, feeling a shy smile erupt on your face. “Yeah, I was kind of surprised with how doable-ish it was.”

“May I ask how? If I recall, you were quite opposed to this task last week.” Today, Hyunjin sits on the sofa with you instead of at his desk— too close, yet so far.

You finger the one of the buttons on your blouse, mind already on the truth. But of course, you would never tell Hyunjin how masturbating to the thought of him made you feel aligned with your own body and sexuality, and maybe a little more willing to dare to think of what you like about yourself. Now that would be inappropriate.

“I just did some thinking,” you finally say after much deliberation.

Hyunjin crosses one of his long legs over the other. “Interesting.”

“I guess.”

“If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?” Hyunjin lightly taps on his notepad with his pen, waiting for you to speak.

You give him a suspicious look. “Depends on the question.”

“Are you happy with yourself?”

His question confounds you, and yet, in a way, you also know why he asks it. A basic list of things that you like about yourself isn’t enough to turn over that table of insecurity and stagnant mindset that has hurt you for too long. It makes you understand that everything wrong in your life is because of an intrinsic cause, that ugly voice inside of you. Not because of something else… or someone.

“I don’t think I am.” You bite your lip. “But I want to be.”

“Can you tell me why?”

You groan. “It stems from how I feel so undesirable right now. Like, I don’t want to be lonely, but I am. I mean, I’m kind of a shooting star for everyone. A fleeting moment of love, of comfort. I really wish I could be the fucking sun.”

Hyunjin leans forward swiftly, grasping your hands and startling you with their warmth. “You’re not a shooting star. And you’re not just the sun either. You are the whole solar system, honey. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”

Damn. The solar system?

You hate when Irene calls you “honey,” but on Hyunjin’s tongue, it sounds loving, sweet, not like a patronizing ridicule.

“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way your heart is hammering in your chest. “But you’ve known me for, like, two seconds.”

If you don’t know any better, you would say that Hyunjin almost looks taken aback. But his features smooth over quickly. “Darling, I’m a professional. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You have a good heart. There is no reason why you can’t have everything you want.”

You try to focus on his words and take them in, but Hyunjin— simply the sexiest thing you have ever set eyes on— has deemed you beautiful. It’s both flattering and heart-fluttering, to say the very least. “Well, why don’t I? Why don’t I have everything I want, then?”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “You just haven’t met the right person for you.”

You inhale at the husky tone of his voice. “And you’re going to help me with that, Hyunjin?”

“Yes. You don’t need therapy, definitely. The first step I take with my clients is acceptance. That comes with therapy, but you were able to identify the problem and acknowledge it. I say we address it now.”

“What do you recommend we do, then?”

Hyunjin clears his throat and flips to a new page in his notepad. “I’ll be your dating coach.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him. “What does that entail?”

“We need to fortify your self-esteem, first of all. So, confidence coaching. You’ll be getting weekly sessions with me in which I provide you with tips and guidance, almost like interactive lectures. In due time… you can be set up in our matchmaking office, if you’d like.” Hyunjin scribbles into his trusty notepad. “You made a good start with the list. Let’s get better.”

And you do. The next few weeks are like a bandaid on your wounded heart and mentality. Hyunjin helps you through building up your confidence, never once pushing you to run, only walking by your side. You expect him to give you information on pickup lines, how to dress, appropriate forms of touch, the science of love, and anything else that may improve your dating prospects, but much of his coaching is simply focused on you. You get one-on-one seminars from Hyunjin on the art of conversation, in which he guides you through being yourself, instead of being who you think you need to be. Hyunjin structures elaborate role-playing scenarios and critical thinking exercises in which you are coaxed out of your shell. And most significant of all, he teaches you that the most important relationship you can have is the relationship with yourself.

You have always known that Hyunjin isn’t just any regular relationship therapist— or dating coach, or intimacy expert, or whatever other fancy moniker he adopts— but throughout your meetings, you come to feel like the boundaries have become blurred. Since the first time you saw him, he was able to read you like one of the glossy magazines stocked in the main lobby. But you slowly notice the fine details about him as well, from the neverending stack of classic poetry books on the white oak wall mount to how he bites his nails when he’s deep in thought.

The fascination you harbor morphs into a full-blown schoolgirl infatuation, resulting in you stalking his Instagram page and being totally invested in all of his old interviews, scouring for information on his dating status (no, you couldn’t find out if he is single or not). You’re completely enamored with Hyunjin and how free you feel around him. But one thing that doesn’t change is your burning desire for your unattainable guide, and the way you have to relieve yourself with your vibrator as soon as you rush home after your appointments.

You are sure that every single time you see Hyunjin, you’re being embarrassingly obvious, but he maintains his professionality, betraying nothing about himself except for a disarming smile. So you stay quiet, keeping your Hyunjin-affliction to yourself. But even in the face of your inappropriate struggle, for the first time, happiness doesn’t seem so foreign to you.

In spite of the honeymoon phase of your crush, in which you have blissfully daydreamed about Hyunjin, you still have your job to get to— gone is the racy maroon lingerie set you bought to spice up your solo sessions. However, your boring work suits and blazer-and-jeans combinations have been pushed to the back of your closet, in favor of you walking into the office wearing tight sheath dresses and skirts that show off your curves. You always believed that getting dolled up was strictly for special occasions or your man— when you thought you had one— but lately, you’ve been loving dressing up for yourself and enjoying the feeling of being sexy and liberated.

“Y/N! Get your ass over here!”

Your carefully curated mind bubble is rudely burst open when your boss yells for you from his office, not minding if the peace of the rest of the workers is preserved or not. You tie your hair up and dust off your skirt, making your way over to your boss’s office for what feels like the millionth berating you know you will receive.

“Yes?”

Mark Lee— your boss, who in your opinion, makes Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada look like a saint— turns around in his cushy Arhaus swivel chair, raising his eyebrows at your harried stats. Most people know him as the eccentric but lovable CEO of NCT Corporation, one of the world’s most prolific venture capital firms. However, you know him to be a truly two-faced monster that takes a sadistic pleasure in seeing the people beneath him crushed.

“Is something wrong? Because there shouldn’t be.”

You force a smile. “You called me here, Mark.”

He lets out a mirthless guffaw, slapping his thigh. “Right.”

You roll your eyes as he shuffles through the papers on his desk and produces a small Manila envelope for you. Mark holds it out to you, and you take the packet.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Curious, you tear open the envelope and pull out a thick piece of stationary paper, an invitation to a networking event for tech entrepreneurs. Your pulse immediately begins to pick up, and you even dare to begin to dream of attending this golden opportunity. “Is this for me?”

“Kind of.” Mark clasps his hands together. “You’re planning this party!”

Your hesitant smile melts away. “What? I’m not your assistant, Mark. You already have one.”

“I know…” Mark trails off, popping a gummy bear into his mouth as he starts to spin around in his chair. “But no one is more passionate than you here, so you should do it.”

“But I’m busy with my actual job. I should be going to this party, not planning it! You know that.” You feel the frustration rise up in your chest like a tsunami, and you struggle to keep it at bay. “Come on, Mark. What the hell?”

Mark narrows his eyes at you, chewing on his fifth gummy. “No profanity, please.”

You nearly ball up the invitation and throw it onto Mark’s face. “You literally just screamed at me to get my ass in here.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.” Mark snickers, crumpling up his gummy bear packet and attempting to shoot it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. When he misses, his expression sours and he glares at you. “You should really check out the instructions I sent you and get to work. Even some SM Tech officers will be in attendance. For example, the director of the Dream division.”

Your heart drops. “What?”

Mark smirks malevolently, leaning closer towards you. “You know him, right? Jake, was his name? Or was it Jisung?”

You grind down on your teeth, fuming. Mark is just trying to rile you up, and it’s really working. He knows perfectly well that Jisung is your ex-boyfriend, as both Jisung and him are golf buddies at their exclusive course in Pasadena. However, he loves to play dumb to get a reaction out of you, and you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You swallow back all of the disgusting insults you wish you could hurl at him, if you were braver and not hanging on to your job by a thread. “Don’t recall. I’ll take care of the party.”

You turn on your heel and march out of Mark’s office, purposefully slamming the door hard on the way out. You hear Mark’s cackling behind you, but you don’t dare to look back, because you don’t know what you’ll do. You slide into your cubicle once more, and have to resist the urge to turn over your whole desk like Wreck-It Ralph.

Years ago, in your final year of college, you founded ITEM Technologies with one of your classmates for your senior project. You hadn’t expected your professor to be so impressed that she submitted your portfolio to California’s biggest entrepreneurship competition, and you definitely didn’t expect for it to win first place, which meant you got access to a whole network of potential investors for your start-up. You had already accepted a job offer to be a software developer at NCT, but the thought of becoming your own boss through ITEM pulled at you like anything. Securing funding for ITEM through SM Technologies would be the final key in the system of locks keeping you from your dream, and the exclusive invitation to CODA— Silicon Valley’s biggest annual networking lunch for start-ups— was the ticket.

However, the day before the event, Jisung had broken up with you, and you had forgotten all about CODA, instead sleeping in after a whole night of crying. Later, after you woke up and realized what you had done, you found out that SM’s latest investment would be in Dream, a growing media company headed by none other than your new ex, Jisung. In twenty-four hours, he had both killed your dreams and your heart. And in due time, without proper funding, ITEM Tech would eventually fail, like many other promising but ill-fated start-ups.

And now? Jisung is living it up in your dream job while you’re groveling in the footsteps of your nightmarish excuse of a boss. Just touching a keyboard once filled you with so much joy, but now, you would rather smash it into bits before pressing a single key. Now you have to map out some stupid party for other start-ups. You’re a developer, not an event planner. You glare up at the ceiling, as if asking a higher power for an explanation for your crappy life. A moment later, your computer pings with a new email.

Like he’s a telepathic deity, Hyunjin has sent you a GIF of a baby llama waddling around a small pen, with text below that reads, “keep calm and llama on.” In spite of yourself, you laugh to yourself, and without thinking, you type in a response thanking him and ending in a winking emoji. Right after you send it, you fill up with regret. Was that inappropriate? The emoji? Too much? With an exasperated sigh, you stand up from your desk, shutting down your computer and heading over to the elevator, punching in buttons for the next floor. However, as soon as you open the door to the office of the one person who could probably talk some sense into you right now, you regret it. Afterall, he’s your part-time friend and full-time menace of a coworker.

“Fuck… don’t tease me like that when I’m not there,” Minho groans, before sighing wistfully into his phone. “I’ll be home soon.”

You silently gag, mentally slapping the shit out of yourself for walking in on a phone sex session, of all things. Minho hadn’t answered when you knocked on his door, so you had just assumed that he needed to be woken up from one of his notorious naps.

“I love you too. I’ll see you in a little bit.” Minho ends the call and turns around in his seat, happily humming to himself with a lovestruck expression on his face. He nearly falls out of his chair when he sees you hovering over him with a smirk on your face. “Jesus!”

“Seriously? Here? Now?”

“Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Suuure.”

Minho rolls his eyes at your silly expression, unamused and crossing his arms. “Can I help you, Y/N?”

You rub one of your nails, thinking of how Hyunjin once complimented them. “You’re like my only friend.”

“I know.” He watches you collapse into one of the chairs in front of him. “But what happened to those Golden Bitches?”

“Golden Trio,” you correct, although Minho doesn’t miss the hint of a grin on your face at his intentional mistake. “And I’m done with them. Finally.”

You put your head down on Minho’s desk as he reaches into one of his desk drawers, pulling out a pack of Twizzlers and tossing them to you. “Talk.”

“It’s, um, kind of bad, though.”

“I’m listening.”

Everything comes spilling out of your mouth: brunch at The Terrace, your new unpaid party-planning gig, and of course… Hyunjin. Your explanation is much more censored than the real thing, of course, because there’s no way you’re going to talk about your whole mango expedition with a married man. That is a whole new level of breaking boundaries, and you’ve crossed enough to know.

“Well… that’s basically it.” You swallow nervously, and suddenly, your throat feels very dry. “Mark sucks, and I’m thirsting after my therapist slash dating coach.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Minho says gently, a color that you weren’t even sure existed for him in public. His teasing persona always overtakes the tender one exclusively reserved for his other half. “The whole Hyunjin thing is probably just temporary. You’re still adjusting to considering romance as a possibility again.”

“Okay.”

“The right person will come along. It’s long, and it’s hard, but that journey will be worth it.”

“Says you. You and your wife are literally perfect. I mean, college sweethearts? If your life was a music soundtrack, it would be one of those cheesy love playlists that annoying couples make together.”

Minho just chuckles. “We had our ups and downs. But yeah, we kind of are perfect. She is perfect.”

He softly smiles to himself, gazing at the beautiful portrait of his wife that’s framed on his desk. He’s in his own world now, and you pat his shoulder. “Thanks for the help, Minho. You should go home.”

As you exit the NCT headquarters, you can’t help but feel your heart squeeze even tighter in your chest. Witnessing such a wholesome moment should have given you hope, a glimpse of a future you could have. Instead, it reminded you of what you can’t have right now— who you can’t have.

You appreciate Minho’s efforts to make you feel better, but he just doesn’t know the full truth. Because your chat with him pushed up something very unpleasant that you’ve been avoiding for a while now. Your pink-loving, classic novel-reading, luxury-shopaholic dating coach is more than just the object of your explicit fantasies, all unbeknownst to him. You’ve started to love the person you become when you’re around him. You love how much more confident and happier you’ve become because of him. Hell, you have genuine feelings for him.

You are so fucked.

Spanning his entire career as a relationship therapist (and all of the other job titles; for God’s sake, he’s the Love Doctor), Hyunjin can’t really come up with any thorns in the rosebush. Sure, there have been a few snags, like that time his clients literally brought divorce papers to one of their meetings (he managed to convince them to take a romantic vacation to Bora Bora and bond more as a couple; it worked). Or when another client confessed to committing adultery with the family’s nanny halfway through a session (after persuading the wife not to murder her husband in the middle of his office, Hyunjin set them up with recovery counseling; that also worked). Life was predictable, but enjoyable. Just the way he likes it.

Every single day used to begin the exact same way. He woke up at exactly five-thirty, before doing his favorite low-impact yoga routine in his home gym. Hyunjin liked being up early enough to watch the sun rise from the balcony of his West Hollywood penthouse, while drinking a cup of loose leaf Darjeeling tea, of course. His post Sun Salutation breakfast consisted of two slices of whole wheat bread topped with two organic scrambled eggs and extra virgin olive oil. He’d shower and spend a while wandering his walk-in closet, deciding what killer outfit to wear for work, his third favorite place after South Korea and the Taj Mahal. And then he drove to SeoulSpark in Cami, his beloved baby pink Cadillac that he splurged on after getting on Forbes 30 Under 30.

Every single day used to end the exact same way. He’d leave work by six, after finishing up the last of his meetings. He’d browse on his MacBook for a nice recipe before cooking his dinner while jamming to Mariah on his Spotify Premium, and change the station to classical while eating. He took another shower, but taking more time to do his special avocado hair mask and full skin-care routine. Then Hyunjin liked to cozy up in his Versace bathrobe while catching up with the latest episode of Love Island and cuddling with his paw-dorable shih tzu, Princess Diana. Oh, and, he couldn’t unwind without kicking his feet back and downing a glass of pink champagne. And then he went to bed by eleven.

That was all before you, of course.

The day he met you, he was reminded of the sun. Yes, the way you roughly turned your chin to the side or rained down on him with your sharp words was more evocative of a thunderstorm. But then there was that dress, a pale yellow fluttering above your knees, and how your wide eyes had so expressively taken in your surroundings when you stepped into his office. The slightly awkward way you greeted him, when you harshly avoided his gaze when you were embarrassed. And the way you looked at him, your pretty lips pulled into a stubborn pout, but really, he could see the soft curiosity in your gaze. You were so mad at the world around you, all he wanted to do was take you onto his magic carpet and show you a new one.

He also really, really wanted to just rip that dress off your body and fuck you senseless. And when you started to eat that mango? He had to scramble to think of a list of unsexy things to avoid a boner right then and there. Chipped nails. Gonorrhea. Andrew Tate.

The following weeks weren’t any better, either. He felt like an inexperienced, horny teenager once again, lusting after the tiniest flash of skin. In your last meeting, Hyunjin had fixated on the tiny rip on your stocking that barely exposed the soft skin of your thigh. You hadn’t even noticed, but God, he was trying not to go crazy in his seat.

Usually, other people are the ones who are seduced by Hyunjin’s charming nature, but ever since you, the once calm, elegant, and poised Hyunjin has been prone to being seduced by irrelevant wardrobe malfunctions. And the absolutely inappropriate thoughts of you that have now flooded his brain are constantly floating around, disturbing him. Yesterday, he slept-in, so he had to skip his morning yoga and was nearly late to work. Later, he fell asleep while fisting himself under the covers, forgetting to turn on his mood lighting and 528 Hz nighttime music. And today was an even bigger disaster, because he’d zoned out during his marketing meeting, thinking of bending you over his desk instead of advertising SeoulSpark. Ever since you, none of his days have been the same. Tonight is no exception.

Hyunjin turns the steel knob, cranking up the heat for no reason at all. Maybe he needs to feel the burn of the scalding water on his skin, shocking him back into reality, or perhaps, he needs to hide from his sanity in the steam, too ashamed to look out and into the bathroom mirror.

The water pours down Hyunjin’s back as he steps under the steady stream, dousing himself and trying to forget about you. But it’s to no avail, because he feels his hand already moving down, roving over his Pilates-strengthened abs and slipping down to the one place that’s pleading for his attention.

Hyunjin tilts his head back in the bliss of succumbing to temptation, slightly leaning his cheek against his shoulder as he strokes his hardened length slowly. He sucks in a sharp breath as he squeezes himself, deftly curving his wrist for a more impactful angle. Hyunjin is no stranger to a good lover, but right now he’s resorting to touching himself with the familiarity that only he is entitled to. Although, he would love to teach you about more than just confidence, giving you lessons on how to pleasure him, watching you work like the sexy aficionado that he believes you to be.

In his mind, he isn’t in the privacy of his bathroom, jerking himself off. No, he’s in his office, lying down on his luxe handwoven rug with you on top of him. You’re completely exposed except for the place where your yellow frock is scrunched around your waist, because you were so eager to have each other that Hyunjin hadn’t even bothered with completely undressing you.

Hyunjin tightens his fingers around his cock and speeds up, pumping himself aggressively. He bites down on his lip and screws his eyes shut, as low, breathy moans escape him. He’s leaking already, flushed and throbbing under his palm. Hyunjin pushes a hand against the shower wall for support and whimpers at the thought of you riding him while slurping on that goddamn mango. He’s so delusional for you that you hadn’t even bothered with getting a knife to cut into the mango, instead holding it in your hand and biting into it while bouncing on his cock.

Hyunjin lets out a groan as he strokes himself even faster, and he feels his orgasm rapidly approaching but refrains from releasing. He doesn’t deserve to come, not yet. He imagines your legs spread and your tight walls around him, instead of his own fist. Your cheeks are a deep red now, as Hyunjin pounds up into you, claiming you and making you his own. The juice from the mango is dripping all over your gorgeous breasts, trailing down even further and mixing with your own arousal. Hyunjin wonders about how you would taste. Were you as sweet as that mango you had eaten so damn seductively in front of him? No. You probably tasted even better.

His soft moans have turned into harsh pants as Hyunjin’s hands begin to lose rhythm, unsteadily working his length. Hyunjin listens to your pretty sighs as you look down at him, pleasure and amusement contorting your features.

“You want me so bad, don’t you?”

“I do!” Hyunjin chokes out as a cry as the pressure rises in his core. He’s so, so close, the pearls of sweat rolling down his neck and becoming one with the water.

“Hyunjin…”

Hyunjin’s name slips out of your mouth as easily as he flips you over onto your back, fucking harshly into you. He anchors his hand to your waist, gripping tightly, as you gaze up at him through your half-lidded eyes. Your bare chests are pressed together in a sticky haze of both your sweat and the juice of the mango you have now abandoned for something more satiating. Spurred on by the fucked-out smile on your face, he brings his free hand to your lips and you obediently suck on his fingers, wishing it was his cock instead. But you’re still in control, directing him with your eyes and whispering sweet praises to him. And then you’re clenching around him, your body shuddering underneath Hyunjin’s as you reach the peak of your ecstasy.

“I need you to come for me, Hyunjin.”

Your final command makes Hyunjin convulse and tense, his back arching as he finally chases after his release. Hyunjin thrusts into his hand, overcome by the thought of you judging him while he comes. Hyunjin’s knees go weak as he strokes himself through his orgasm, violently spasming against the Carrara marble walls of his shower. His release shoots out in hot spurts, painting his trembling thighs and the walls a thick white.

Breathless, Hyunjin opens his eyes and washes off his shame, but there’s only so much that water and coconut body wash can do. The moment he prepares to step out of his steaming shower, Hyunjin feels anything but cleansed— his situation is quite the opposite. The unholy thoughts that he had touched himself to had done anything but subside, struggling behind the dam in his mind that contains his last shreds of dignity. As he opens the door leading to his bedroom, the shock of cold air conditioning against his damp skin is a harsh reminder of reality.

Hyunjin’s relationship with you is strictly limited to his office, the place where he did not get to fuck you in. Any discourse with sexual content is limited to your personal romantic endeavors that he has no role in whatsoever. You have zero idea about his filthy fantasies involving you, and see him merely as the person who would help you find happiness with someone else. Not him. He’s your therapist, and in clinical terms, you could be his patient.

The mirage of you standing in front of him disagrees, however.

“You’re technically not my therapist— more like my counselor.”

Hyunjin watches with wide eyes as you bound over to him. Smirking, you playfully toy with the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist.

“But I am feeling kind of sick, though, Dr. Hwang. I’m all hot and aching, just for you.”

“Go away! You can’t be here.” Hyunjin shakes his head, quickly walking over to his closet and getting into his silk batik pajamas. “I’m going crazy…”

Princess Diana nips at Hyunjin’s ankles, prodding him to go back to his normal self and snuggle with her while they watch reality TV.

“I just can’t right now, Diana,” Hyunjin exclaims exasperatedly. She gets the hint and slinks away, leaving Hyunjin alone in his bedroom.

He hadn’t even bothered with turning on the lights, the glimmering Los Angeles skyline past his expansive windows casting a pale glow in his room. If mindreading was a real thing, Hyunjin would be done for, because the thoughts that had transpired today would ruin him, shrivel up his reputation and business. If this went beyond the confines of his home, continuing to force itself into his daily life, he could lose everything. His job, his name, his purpose. Nevertheless, Hyunjin feels his hand sliding down once more, like a sinful memory of the past. It’s going to be another long night, and what happens tomorrow is variable. But Hyunjin knows one thing to be true.

He is so fucked.

«NEXT CHAPTER» · «GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

That was the longest thing I've ever written for one piece. AND IT'S ONLY CHAPTER 1 LMFAO. Anyway, hope you liked it, loves! I'll be hiding under my blankets tonight and screaming about my first published smut scene EVER. Please leave your thoughts, I don’t 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 @yeahsspider @8makes1scream ***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***

If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!

📢 ©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.

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mxtxfanatic · 9 months

Text

Was thinking about how often I see reactionary pro-Jiang Cheng content, and I just realized something: jc stans, just like their fav, believe that every good thing Wei Wuxian has—whether loved ones or good memories or admirable characteristics or character growth, whether canon or fanon—is actually the rightful property of Jiang Cheng that Wei Wuxian “stole” from him through the sin of existing, and it is their sworn duty to correct this “oversight” of canon.

Wei Wuxian gets his happily ever after with the love of his life, so jc stans give Jiang Cheng Lan Xichen and call Lan Wangji “second place.” Or they make Lan Wangji a cheater because “he actually likes Jiang Cheng more (who doesn’t, amiright?)” or Wei Wuxian a cheater because “he can never appreciate a good thing like Jiang Cheng can.” People point out how Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang seem to have had a closer relationship than Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng, so jc stans make the latter two a ship or make them the bestest friends ever that bond over being annoyed with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian has a close relationship with the Wen siblings, so jc stans make Wen Qing spend all their time together saying that Jiang Cheng “was right” about him while Wen Ning is being “bullied” into being “anti-jc.”

Wei Wuxian is canonically smart and driven, so jc stans say that he is lazy while Jiang Cheng is hardworking. Wei Wuxian is canonically charismatic, so jc stans say that it was actually Jiang Cheng who was loved by all the disciples and is the sole reason the Jiang Clan of the present was able to pull in new disciples post-fall. Wei Wuxian loves to learn, so jc stans say that Jiang Cheng was actually a model student being sabotaged by the slovenly Wei Wuxian.

People imagine the Lan as accepting Wei Wuxian post-canon or imagine aus where the Lan adopt him as a child, so jc stans make Jiang Cheng the adopted Lan child, who Lan Qiren now likes better than his own nephews. People write Nie!wwx, so jc stans write about how “actually” Nie Mingjue sees Jiang Cheng as the brother he never had and views Wei Wuxian as an unwanted nuisance and competition. People make the most batshit ooc au where the QishanWen are actually good and adopt Wei Wuxian, and jc stans turn that into actually, the Jiang siblings are adopted while Wei Wuxian stays with the “totally horrible, abusive” father in Yunmeng. Fucking Baoshan Sanren descends from her mountain to look for her martial grandson, and jc stans will shove Jiang Cheng into the narrative as a disciple because “he’s just so lovable!” In all of these cases, some will still imagine that Wei Wuxian still gets left on the streets as a petty afterthought.

Shit, even some of the BAD things that happen to Wei Wuxian canonically are misappropriated by jc stans to give Jiang Cheng unearned sympathy. Wei Wuxian was whipped as a child? Now Jiang Cheng was too, but also his dad hates him. Wei Wuxian is an orphan who creates his own family in adulthood? Jiang Cheng is now disowned/an unloved runaway who later finds his people because who wouldn’t want him (amiright?). Wei Wuxian was at risk of losing his golden core completely in the transfer if it failed? Well Jiang Cheng was going to DIE! “See? Look how much harder Jiang Cheng’s life was than that pathetic attention whore Wei Wuxian! Doesn’t he deserve all the things Wei Wuxian has? Aren’t they rightfully his???”

And it’s like, you can’t even escape into fan content with this type of mentality, because look out how much I mentioned is popular fanon. Notice how ubiquitous these ideas are surrounding anything to do with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, even if only one of them is mentioned. No matter what anyone reads in the novel, no matter what individuals come up with in their own heads, no matter what tag or platform is used or not used to keep it out of their hands, jc stans will be there to create a reactionary counterpart to prove that nothing, nothing can ever just be Wei Wuxian’s. Because at the end of the day, the “oversight” that jc stans want to correct isn’t Jiang Cheng’s supposed depreciation by the author. The “oversight” was the author daring to say that Wei Wuxian deserves to be treated as his own person and not Jiang Cheng’s personal property. And every fandom interaction has been retaliation towards that fact.

The main character of the novel is relegated to mere a lightning rod that exists to attract all of Jiang Cheng’s bad qualities while injecting him with all of Wei Wuxian’s good, but jc stans wonder why people are upset.

#mdzs #human gripes at fandom

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decolonize-the-left · 7 months

Text

Thinking about Project2025 and how it's at every level and branch of government. How entire cities are now under their thumb.

How Biden is saying "Israel has a right to defend itself" while calling Cop City protesters terrorists for not wanting a more deadly police force to be trained. But didn't stand with rail workers when they demanded better treatment when it was freezing and trains were being derailed.

How an epidemic on par with HIV ravaged the globe and Biden allowed pharma companies to exploit the world with price tags after promising it'd be public access.

Thinking about how in all this Israel and the USA are said to test tactics and weapons on Palestine.

How the USA stands with Zionists and how many people have told me, a native American, that Palestinians are in the wrong.

How the last 75 years don't matter. Only the last 2 weeks.

And real fucking talk?

For all the "progress" liberals pretend we made how are we here?

Americans and several of the Allied countries would not hesitate to conduct Manifest Destiny 2.0 and have blatantly stated as much.

Americans are saying things that my great grandmother heard about reservations and then later about native liberation. They're saying things the pilgrims told us before that. We're animals. Savages. That we are to blame. That when we die out it'll be because we didn't fight hard enough. That we don't deserve to even be here.

And you know what, I would hope this post would reach some of them but I genuinely feel as if liberals are as far gone as MAGAs are.

They will read this and just go and on and on about how bad the other guy is.

How justified they are to keep voting blue. Just like MAGA's whine until their privileged lives being "ruined" by "woke lies" justified them voting for Trump. Just like Israel is justified. Like every fucking war criminal ever has been.

BUT

I implore you to STOP trying to fucking justify everything! Nobody fucking cares about the reasons you use to support a genocidal war monger who's legacy before this was signing one of the most racially marginalizing bills in US history.

How about you try justifying taking a fucking risk, instead?

People in Palestine are being bombed every fucking day and you want to twiddle your thumbs about NOT voting for the guy who said it was okay and for what? Because your life might not be as comfortable as it is right now? That's your concern from your home with a roof?

Call me a fucking conspiracist but I haven't been wrong yet: Biden is a fucking Project2025 plant. And him and Hillary both have done nothing but make the democrats more and more conservative by catering to the "centrist" votes for decades.

Now we're here. They've compromised so much and want to look so "fair" that a genocide is being paid for on American tax dollars and what are liberals tellings us, what are they saying? ITS JUSTIFIED???? AND TO VOTE FOR BIDEN AGAIN

Y'all are so worried about everyone voting blue to avoid republican fascists that you don't even CARE how bad the people youre voting in are. You haven't even noticed the fascists you put in office yourselves.

You forgot your boundaries.

And isn't it funny how rad/fems and TERFs got mainstream around the same time? You know, the white supremacists based ideology that seeped into the mainstream because nobody was critically consuming or gatekeeping what was "empowering to women" for fear of being 'cancelled'?

Why? Cuz if you hate them you hate women. Just like if you criticize america then you're an anti-american Russian/spy/plant. Like if you support Palestine then you hate Jewish people. If support BLM then you obviously hate white people.

And that's it, isn't it. That's what it all boils down to.

White supremacists are and have been manipulating & gaslighting us en masse.

You know your friends that learned to gaslight an audience with therapy speak? The one that makes you afraid to call them out cuz they're better with words than you and could just as easily turn everyone against you if they use enough buzzwords?

That's the tactics white supremacists are using.

"I must be quiet so I don't say something wrong and look like a bigot" "if I speak, I may say the wrong things" "I may say the right thing the wrong way"

They have made you AFRAID to speak against genocide!!! Wake the fuck up!!!!

They aren't event trying to hide it! The IDF made a post that straight up says "you are an anti-Semite if you speak against Israel"

WHICH IS JUST STRAIGHT UP UNTRUE!! So may Jewish people have come forward against Israel and against Zionism and to support Palestine!

Israel's government is Zionist and that is not an inherently Jewish trait! Making you you believe otherwise is part of the propaganda and manipulation so you Stop speaking up. You can support Jewish people and Palestinians both.

Israel and the USA want you to believe that it is one or the other and that's not true.

The only people who benefit from trying to make you choose between which humans get to live are the white supremacists who cheer when this rhetoric starts to normalize conversation about which people are more worthy of living than another.

You have been gaslit into supporting genocide.

Gaslit into going down a white supremacist pipeline.

Gaslit into giving your silent consent.

Snap out of it.

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midnighmoonligh · 4 months

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Fandom

Call of Duty / Ghost's

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Characters

Y/N ; AMAB ; He/Him ; little

Keegan Russ ; He/Him ; Caregiver/Neutral

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⚠Content warnings ⚠

Military topics, mention of blood/injuries/pain, anti-agere, and cursing.

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Plot Summary

Keegan doesn't like you. You don't know what age regression is. You both end up bonding over it.

You, a new recruit to the ghost's, the task force Keegan also found himself on, yourself in trouble. It was to the point it was infuriating for him, as your superior. You were a private rank with an awful temper who never followed orders. You were always doing your own things, causing problems for other people. He tended to be one of those people.

Keegan couldn't stand you.

After a long mission that didn't go well for anyone, Keegan found himself wandering the bases hall's at night. The stress of the events left him restless, not that he usually could sleep. As he walked, heard thuds coming from the indoor gym. Curiously, though dumbly, he made his way towards it.

Opening the doors, he found you punching away at a punching bag. Surprise washed over his features. It was one am. He knew how much you valued sleep as well, so you had been the last person he expected to be awake still.

You we're panting as you slammed one of your fists into the punching bag again. You've been at it for hours now, most people were asleep too. Your hands were poorly wrapped, knuckles spilling blood that dotted the bandages. It didn't really stop you. As long as your hands weren't broken, you'd take some bleeding. You raised your fists again despite how much your lungs burned and slammed your fist into the bag as hard as you could manage still, again.

Keegan approached quietly, he wanted to surprise you in some way. He saw a sight he wasn't at all expecting. He wasn't sure to make of it, still trying to decide that fact as he approacbed you.

He walked around you, getting a good view of you before speaking, " What are you doing here this late? Shouldn't you be sleeping? "

You jumped a bit as Keegan spoke. It was startled you more than you'd cared to admit. You raked a hand through your hair. Most the strands stayed back from sweat when you pulled it out.

" Shouldn't you? " you shot back in a snarky tone.

" Touché, but your the one throwing hands at the punching bag at one in the morning. Something more then a lack of sleep is the cause if this, so you're not allowed to use that argument as a gotcha, " he responded, " Now, why are you here? I gave everyone the day off after that mission. You should be in bed. "

You grunted and rolled your eyes. Slowly you raised your fists again and giving another weak punch to the bag. You were exhausted, body spent, but your mind kept pushing. It wouldn't shut up, no matter how many times you hit the bag.

" What am I? A toddler? " you grumbled before punching the bag again.

" If you're acting like one, then yes. I'm your superior officer. You need your sleep. Now, why are you here? " Keegan reiterated. He was beginning to lose his patience at your stubbornness.

" Is it a crime now to burn off steam? " you huffed out at him.

You stopped, at least for now. Your attention was better turned towards Keegan. Although your breathing remained uneven, practically gasping.

" No, but you look like you've been at it for a long time now. Your hands are bleeding, that can't be healthy for anyone. Stop acting stubborn and take a break, " he scolded, " If you keep at it, you'll be a liability for us tomorrow. "

At the mention of your hands, you looked down to them while lifting them enough to see them. You blinked, clearly not realizing you had made them bleed, let alone as much as they were.

" I'm off tomorrow, " you decided to say instead while letting your hands fall back to your sides.

" I know you're off tomorrow, but if your in this condition, you're a danger to yourself. Take a break from the stupid bag, " he scolded, he was clearly getting tired of you.

" Just sit your bum down and listen. You're pushing yourself far too much. You'll only make yourself worse if you keep going. Take a break. " He was much more stern then usual, as if seeing you like this really got him angry.

You huffed at Keegan childishly. If your entire body didn't ache, you would've crossed your arms and pout.

" Why do you care what I choose to do with my free time anyways? "

"Because you're still a soldier of the Ghost's. We can't afford to lose you. I can't afford to lose you..." he muttered, looking like a concerned father instead of a demanding superior.

" Take a break. We need you fit and healthy, you can't do that if your hands are all bloody and you're this exhausted, " his tone was much more calm then usual, he was trying not to sound like he was scolding a child. " Just please, take a break. "

You stared at him like he was an alien. Frankly, you thought he was when the word please came out of Keegan of all people. It didn't help that you were well aware his distain for you. Hearing him actually care bothered you. You took deep breaths to try and control your breathing, but it wasn't getting you anywhere.

" I need to be stronger, " you confessed.

Keegan sighed, clearly not able to put two and two together at this current moment. He came over and pulled the punching bag still with some force, " you're only going to get weaker if you keep going. I'm sure you've heard of overworking yourself. This is what overworking yourself looks like. "

He then kneeled down in front of you, " Why do you need to be stronger?" He asked in a much softer tone, trying not to be condescending as he spoke. It felt as if he were trying to talk to a child.

He tensed as he kneeled down to him. It annoyed him how he treated him like a kid. It didn't help he wasn't much shorter than Keegan.

" I couldn't do anything to help, " you breathed out, taking a few deep breaths before finishing your thoughts. Your thoughts made you feel like crying. " If I was stronger the mission would've went better. "

Keegan remained quiet as you spoke, his heart breaking a little. He was silent for a long moment, as if thinking of a response to that.

" And if you overwork yourself like this for another mission, you won't be able to help again, " pointed out.

" Besides, it wasn't your fault. The success or failure of a mission isn't placed on the individual. It's placed on the group as a whole. There's only so much you could have done, " he consoled, hoping his words would help.

" But-" you paused to let out a shaky breath. The feeling of needing to cry grew, but you kept pushing it down.

" I still could've done something, anything if I was stronger. "

" That's not true, you're not some superman to be expected to take the entire mission on your back. You're only expected to do what you're capable of doing, you're not an unstoppable force, you're still only human. Humans have limits, " he explained, in an attempt to make you feel better.

" I know you're trying to distract yourself from bad thoughts, but this isn't a healthy way to do it. You need to find a safer way to take your mind off things. "

You looked away from Keegan, chewing the inside of your cheek. Your breathing was slowly starting to calm as you stood there. One of your legs was shaking a little bit.

" I don't really know how, " you admitted hesitantly.

" I know you don't, " Keegan responded, he was starting to get a grasp on the situation so he decided to do something he's never done before. Something that would be out of character for him. He sat down on the floor, and then patted a space down next to him.

" Then let me teach you. Let's have a chat, as soldiers and not superior and subordinate. "

You blinked at Keegan a few times, feeling surprised. Frankly, you had been convinced he hated you. Sure it wasn't all that far off, Keegan got easily annoyed by you, but this was definitely unexpected. You took a deep, slow, breath before shakily sitting down beside him. It was more of a flop, but it was the best he was going to get.

" So," Keegan began, taking a moment to think about what he was going to speak about, " Let me start with asking you why the thought of being stronger even crossed your mind. I didn't see you mess anything up on the mission. I don't understand why this got to you so badly. "

" People died Keegan, " you pointed out with ease. You chewed the inside of his cheek again between pauses. At this point, you'll probably rip into then by accident. You hands throbbed with pain, which did help ground you at least.

" They'll never get to go home, " you added quietly, throat feeling tight.

" And that makes you feel powerless. That's what this is about, isn't it?" He questioned, it seemed that he was connecting the dots about why you felt this way.

He then placed a hand on your back," But you can't do everything. You can't save everyone. It's just not possible. No matter how strong you are, you can't save everyone. "

You're eyes began to pool with tears. Your body language seemed to slump forward. The touch wasn't welcomed, but it wasn't rejected either. You were quiet for awhile before getting the courage to say something again.

" But I can try, " you croaked.

This had an unexpected effect on Keegan. He froze up and his face went slack with surprise. This took him by surprise.

After a moment of silence, he broke it by responding, " But you'll only hurt yourself. If your strong for the safety of others, who's watching your back? Who's saving you if something bad happens to you?" He asked, this whole situation was something he wasn't prepared for at all.

You lifted one of your hands to wipe your cheek as a tear fell, but you only smeared a bit of blood on your face from your bleeding knuckles.

" It's fine, I don't need someone as long as I can make sure they get home, " you spoke with a shaky exhale.

" And who will make sure you get home? Who will protect you? If you're the only one saving the others, then who is saving you?" Keegan questioned, and his tone went from stern to concerned. He tried not to let himself get too emotional while this conversation continued.

" I don't need it. There's no home for me, no one waiting. Not like what they have, " you sniffled quietly.

Keegan froze again, the conversation starting to break off from what he was expecting.

" Are you...alone..." he asked, not wanting to upset you any further with a poorly placed question after you already opened up so much.

" Forget it," you suddenly cut into the question Keegan asked.

You shakily got up, stumbling a little bit before grabbing your jacket and going to leave the gym.

" It's late, you should go to bed, " you told him.

" I'm not going to let you leave, " Keegan said in a stern tone. He didn't even look like the Keegan Russ right now. He looked more like an upset friend.

" You're upset about something, and I know you don't have anyone waiting or anything. But that doesn't mean your alone, you're still part of the Ghosts, we'll be your family. "

That last word was spoken softly, he didn't want you leaving.

" I'm tired Sergeant, " you sighed towards Keegan, pulling the poor man's rank. It was true though. Although you didn't say much, yojr mind felt calmer. You finally felt ready to try and sleep.

Keegan sighed, realizing he's not getting anywhere. In a moment of weakness, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in for a hug. He said nothing, but he felt you deserved this and you needed this.

" Get some sleep Soldier, "He said softly, this was the most human he's acted towards you since you joined.

You jumped a bit as Keegan pulled you in for a hug. You didn't fight it, nor return it, just stood there awkwardly.

" Okay, " you muffled against his chest before breaking free and leaving for your room.

Keegan just sat in the gym, watching as you walked away. He could still feel where his arm was wrapped around you. Maybe he'd see you tomorrow. He could only hope. As he sat back onto the mats on the floor, he did ponder though. He was still wondering about what you had said and he couldn't understand it. But as a whole, the night wasn't a waste. So he took it as a win.

The next morning came quickly, thankfully for you. You had struggled a lot in trying to get some sleep. Despite feeling ready, the moment you had laid down you found it next to impossible to do it. You ended up spending the rest of the night staring out the window or at the ceiling, drowning in your thoughts.

You didn't do much today, didn't have anything planned. Originally you were going to sleep away the day, but by eight am you came to be defeated by the inability to do so. Slowly, you got out of bed and went to shower instead. Once finished with that and in fresh clothes, you tried again. By ten am you were wandering around base. Occasionally, you were stopped and asked to run things to other people since you were free. You didn't mind, which was new since normally you told them to fuck off.

Finally, at noon you made your way to the mess hall for lunch. You grabbed a sandwich, not the best kind but you couldn't complain, then settled down at a table near the corner. It was also close to an exit. You began to eat. Quickly you came to learn you hated the sound of you chewing right now. However, you powered through anyway. Your hands throbbed with pain, especially after your shower. You had poorly wrapped the injuries with gauze the best you could. You really didn't have a lot of medico knowledge. Most the basics you had been taught you didn't even remember anymore.

Keegan walked into the mess hall and grabbed a slice of toast before taking a seat at an empty table. After a few moments of munching, he glanced up to find you with very poorly wrapped hands. He watched your hands shake as you picked up your sandwich and took a bite out of it. You were eating it fairly slowly, concerning since you usually inhaled food. He finished what was in his mouth before walking over to you and taking a seat in the chair across the table from you.

" Your hands look like a mess, " He teased with a playful look, one that only annoyed you.

Unlike you, Keegan had clearly gotten some rest after your talk. Blinking a few times, you looked up from the table to see him. It took you a few moments to register what he had said, pressing how tired you felt further.

" Oh, " you replied dryly for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts as fast as your tired mind allowed you to. " I did my best. "

" I can see that you did, " Keegan nodded, staring at you for a solid minute. " But your hand wrap will not hold. I'm surprised it's held up this long, really, " he added, taking another glance over your hands.

" I could do a better wrap then this, if you're letting me of course, " he offered, trying to make you feel better.

Keegan knew that this was something stupid to focus on, but he was more concerned about these rather poorly wrapped hands then what he should be.You frowned as he spoke. It upset you simply because you really had done your best. You had thoughht you did pretty good, considering your past tries. The offer, however, peaked your interest.

" Oh, if it's not a bother... "

" Of course not, I'll wrap them. No problem, " he assured, smiling softly at you, it was clear that this wasn't any sort of bother to him.

" I can bring you to my quarters, and I can try to clean your hands. I did my emergency medical training awhile back so this should be easy. "

He got up, offering a hand for you to take so Keegan could walk you to his quarters.

" Okay, just let me finish eating, " you huffed quietly then took another bite of your sandwich. You weren't even half way through it yet.

He huffed in reply to you then flopped back down into his chair. Dramatic, but it's how he felt. He was annoyed you were taking so long. He rested his head into the palm of his hand, watching people walk by and listening into other conversations to pass the time. You took your time eating, movements slow and sluggish. You often blinked rapidly here and there to help wake up. When you finished, you wiped your mouth with your sleeve and got up. You took care of your trash then awkwardly waited by Keegan for him to get up.

It took him a full minute to realize too, clearly all wrapped up in his head. You waved your hand in front of his masked face, watching as his free hand snapped to your wrist. You flinched, mostly from pain rather than the sudden movement. You both blinked at each other. With annoyance in his eyes, he let go and got up. Another huff from him. You were pretty used to the noise, as he often did it instead of communicating.

With a small gesture of his hand, Keegan lead the way to his room. He kept a lookout for anyone who was currently walking to make sure they didn't see a superior officer walking a subordinate back to their quarters. It could lead to the wrong impression, which neither of them needed. You trailed behind him, gently rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to sooth the ache. You didn't really think about you following him to his room much. Really, it was the last thing on your mind right now.

After a few minutes of walking they arrived at Keegan's quarters, he unlocked the door before opening it and holding it open for you to walk through. You looked around the space after stepping in. You waited for Keegan for a few seconds before loosing patience and settling down into a chair, feeling too tired to keep standing. Keegan then, finally, followed through before locking the door behind himself.

" Would you feel comfortable with me removing these bandages? I'll need to see your hands first, " he asked, not wanting to just jump in without permission.

Instead of replying verbally, you just offered your hands. It was a silent permission to do as he wanted and needed. Keegan walked over to you and took your hands into his own, they were cold but he expected that. He started peeling the poorly wrapped bandages from your hands, as he did so he started asking questions.

" When can you last remember wrapping these bandages? "

" Few hours ago, " you mumbled sleepily, " After My shower. " Occasionally, you winced as they were removed.

Your knuckles were scattered with open wounds and ugly purple and blue bruising that was slowly beginning to yellow. It looked awful, felt just as much. Your skin was scattered with red and pink from irritation as well.

Keegan flinched softly whenever you winced, he didn't want to be the one hurting you. These aren't the worst injuries he'd seen before, but he wasn't going to dismiss this as a mild injury either. After he got done removing all of the bandages, he started inspecting your injured hands before cleaning up the wounds, he then pulled up various materials and started setting up the materials he'd need to rewrap your hands.

As the injuries were cleaned, your eyes slowly began to pool with tears. A few escaped here and there. You were never much of a cryer, so it was so odd. So concerning. It even confused you, which was evident by the mixed expression you were beginning to have.

" Hurts, " you whispered quietly without even thinking.

Keegan took notice of this when it happened, but he kept his mouth shut and began speaking once he got everything he needed set up.

" I know it does. Don't worry, it'll be all finished in just a minute. "

After a few minutes, he was done rewrapping them. Keegan even went the extra step of wrapping them better then you did. He checked each one to make sure they were done just right. He then gave you a soft, masked, smile. You could only tell there was a smile thanks to his pretty blue eyes crinkling.

" Does this feel better? "

The better treatment of the injuries definitely helped, though they still hurt. It was only natural they did after all. You clenched and stretched out his fingers here and there, feeling how odd it felt. Then you childishly rubbed at one of your eyes. You felt so sleepy.

" 'm hurts, " you still expressed the pain anyways.

" I know you are, " Keegan said softly as he watched you rub your eyes. " Do you want to go to sleep? "

He knew you were exhausted, both mentally and physically. He knew that if you didn't get some rest you'd start to lose focus. And he didn't want that to happen. You gave a small nod. Your mind felt so odd, fuzzy. You didn't know how to describe it or feel about it. You felt a bit more childish, however. Keegan noticed this change in behavior immediately, he didn't like it. Sure, acting a bit childish could be cute or funny, but right now, it was just concerning for him.

" You're acting a bit different. Can you talk to me about how you're feeling right now? "

It was almost like you had regressed some, but that couldn't be possible. Right?

" Tired, " you replied, only to yawn and rub and your eyes more. It was so hard to focus.

" So I take it you're a bit sleepy? " Keegan asked, he got the idea that you might have regressed when you started to act a little different.

The tired behavior was the biggest sign that he was able to notice and put together quickly. This was unexpected, but something he wouldn't question you on. If you kept showing signed of regression, then he'd go along with it. He'd protect you even, as he told himself. You let out a small whine at the question. You wanted to go to bed now, but the idea of walking back to your room by yourselves sounded scary. Especially since yours and Keegan's room were so far apart.

" So what if we slept here? " Keegan purposed the idea.

In the moment it was the best option, and you seemed to be in no shape to walk yourself to bed, to be fair. Maybe his offer was a little odd, but in the moment it felt right for him to ask the question. He didn't want you to have to walk all the way back to your own quarters in this state.

" Okay? " you asked. You meant to ask if if really was okay if you slept here, in Keegan's room. But your regressed and exhausted mind couldn't put the words together fully. No matter how much you tried, you just couldn't.

Keegan just smiled softly, he knew what you meant even if your mind could not fully put the words together at this moment. Thank the God's he knew what you meant. This was a much better deal for you, if you slept here then you wouldn't have to walk yourself to bed. He got up without asking if you wanted him to, and walked over to his bed. Without another word, he motioned for you to lay down on the bed beside him.

You got up from the chair slowly. You were wobbly when you walked, but you managed to reach the bed without falling. Your body was screaming with aches and the need to rest- really your fault it had gotten to this point. You curled up on your side, facing Keegan. You kept your distance to keep the older man more comfortable as you yawned and got cozy.

Keegan noticed you were making sure to keep a distance from him so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Which he really did appreciate. He also found it extremely cute. Keegan got in the bed himself, sitting beside you but facing away so he didn't feel too awkward. It was nice being this close to someone, especially to someone this cute. He felt just the tiniest bit of a desire to pull you closer, he wondered if that'd make you uncomfortable...

With a few brief rubs to your eyes, you began to fall asleep. Just as you were dozing off, you unconsciously slipped your thumb into yout mouth to suck on. The sight of you sucking your thumb put a small smile on Keegan's face. It was one of the cutest things that he's ever seen. It made him almost want to pull you closer and hold you close, and just keep you like that for eternity. He refrained himself from doing that, as you were already close enough to him as it is. So for now he'd just lay there and watch you as you fall asleep.

Keegan watched you sleep for a little while longer before feeling tired himself. He tried to keep himself awake in case you'd need anything. However, after an hour, he decided that everything was okay. He figured you'd wake him if you needed something while you were so little anyway. With a short yawn, he shuffled to get more comfortable then allowed himself to get some rest beside you.

Morning came a lot faster than you had expected. The sun began to shine through the windows and onto you. It was warm, comforting even. Your eyes slowly blinked open. It took a few times to get them to focus. Until then you found yourself fairly surprised you had slept the entire night. It was definitely a rare occurrence for you. Eyes finally focused, they stared at the man just in front of you. A few seconds ticked by before you truly registered who it was.

You sat up so quickly you gave yourself head rush. Your heart began to race in your chest while you rubbed at your eyes a bit in an attempt to get the feeling to fade faster. Once your vision had cleared, you looked around the space. Anxiety pooled in your stomach as you began to realize you couldn't even remember how you got in Keegan's room.

Although you could admit it was a pretty room.

" Morning, " Keegan suddenly said softly, he was laying beside you and looking in your direction. He was silent for a moment but then he asked the question. It was pretty likely you had woken him up in your sudden panic. " You don't remember how you got to my bed, do you?"

You felt your face grow hot as Keegan asked the question. You rubbed at your eyes a bit to help yourself wake up more. Once this tasked was finished your hands dropped into your lap.

" Not really, " you mumbled embarrassingly.

Keegan had to fight the urge to tease you on this moment. It would be funny, it'd also make it a bit too awkward for him.

" It's fine," he decided to tell you in an attempt to comfort you somehow.

" I saw you sitting looking like you could fall dead right there. You seemed to be on the edge of losing focus and regressing too, so I just brought you to my room and you ended up falling asleep," he explained.

Confusion quickly washed over your expression. You looked over to Keegan, blinking a few times whom trying to bring your sleepy mind together. It didn't seem to make sense to you. Why would you even let him bring you here to begin with? While you weren't as tired anymore, you did feel cold.

" Regressing? " you questioned hesitantly, clearly not having a clue as to what that was.

" When you regress it means you're acting more like a child, the younger you, the more you regress. It can happen when you're stressed, or exhausted, or just when you don't want to deal with something as an adult. It doesn't happen on purpose, it's just a state of mind you can get into without trying to," Keegan patiently explained in his normal tone, as he felt this was a serious matter, but his soft tone continued to linger, his eyes looked at you nervously at the thought that you might regress again.

Not that he minded. He just wanted to spot the signs so he could support you as soon as possible instead of being dense to the signs and letting it fester.

You looked away from him, clenching your jaw as you moved to sit up better. You sat more forward with your back to him. It felt difficult to look at him, so he looked at the concrete floor that was at the foot of the bed. You looked, angry, felt it just as much. Not really towards anyone in particular though.

" Basically, there's something wrong with me and it'll get in the way of work, " you norted, but looked upset.

He sat up fairly quickly. He remained somewhat behind you, bit was trying to look at you. Either at your face or eyes, he wasn't picky as to which.

" There's nothing wrong with you," Keegan said firmly and quickly to correct you. He had to put a stop to the idea that there was something wrong because you regressed. " Regressing isn't something to be ashamed of, it's just your mind reverting back when it can't deal with something. It isn't something you can control, and it isn't something you should be ashamed of."

Keegan looked very concerned, he needed to make you not feel bad for regressing. " You're in a safe place right now, no one can or will judge you for it."

" A soldier shouldn't be acting like a child. It'll get everyone killed! " you huffed out as you moved to rub your face with your hands far harder than you needed to.

" You're not in a combat zone right now, it's okay to act a little childish right now," Keegan told you, his tone was calming and soft as he took a deep breath in and then let it out. " You don't have to be a soldier every moment of the day, you're currently not at risk of getting anyone or yourself killed." He tried to be reassuring and calm, as he felt he needed to calm you down in the moment.

" But you can't guarantee that! It isn't all that uncommon for bases to be attacked, " you snapped at him. You were working yourself up more.

" You're right, but currently at this moment in time you are completely safe and out of harms reach." he said softly, he didn't mind the fact that you snapped at him.

He knew it would only make it worse if he yelled back or grew impatient. Although it annoyed him, he did his best to take deep breaths. Keegan slid forward more to sit directly next to you. He let his legs hang off the bed, arms rested on his knees, as he leaned forward to try to look at you better.

" Right now the only thing you should be focused on is you and your injuries, not the next battle or if this base could get attacked. You're safe, and you're safe for now, and that's all that matters."

" But you don't know that for sure, " you emphasized as you rubbed one of your hands over your sleeved forearm. It was an attempt of self soothing. Unintentionally, you're letting quite a bit of your paranoia spill.

Keegan sighed softly, as you continued to voice worries. He tried to think of something to say back that wouldn't make you more upset.

" You're right, I don't know that. But even if it's attacked, we can deal with that when it happens, not right now. All I can do for now is take care of you and try to calm you down, okay?" He paused for a moment, he wanted some reassurance, maybe if he asked you would give it. " Do... Do you feel safe here?"

You took a few deep breaths, feeling worked up from the conversation. You were slightly hugging yourself while remaining stubborn with avoiding Keegan's efforts of eye contact.

" Why would you want to take care of me? I'm a fully grown ass adult, it isn't okay for me to be doing this, " you vented, eyes pooling with tears.

You had avoided his question of how safe you felt in his room, with him. Keegan didn't take this to heart, of course. Rather he allowed you to do it instead of pushing you.

" Because I care about you, I don't want people I care about to get hurt." Keegan's answer was short and simple, but it was true. He may not trust you completely just yet, but he did care about you enough not to let anything happen to you.

He scooted a bit closer to you, he felt like you needed comfort right now, and he wanted to try and be that to you. " Just, trust me that it'll be fine, but you have to stop stressing yourself out."

" I'm an adult Keegan, I shouldn't be acting like a child even if I can't control it, " you huffed out as you lifted your hand to wipe your face. Your hands burned with pain, but you continued to ignored it for the time being.

Keegan watch you wipe your face, and he seemed more concerned for you then ever before. However, he could admit, his patience was beginning to thin.

" Why do you have a problem with regressing?! Why are you so against it? It's natural, and it happens when you deal with too much stress and trauma," he snapped a little more than he'd cared to admit. He was so confused by you and why you felt so against it, what was causing you such a negative view of something like this..?

" Because it's not okay for an adult to be doing this! We have shit to do Keegan. We can't just drop everything just because I want to suck my thumb and cry, " you yelled back at him in annoyance. You didn't understand why Keegan wasn't getting where you were coming from, just like how Keegan didn't understand what you were on about.

Keegan's eyes widened a little at the yelling, but he refrained from raising his voice in response. This was frustrating. He wanted to understand what this negative mindset you have was all about, but you weren't giving him anything here.

" And it's completely fine for an adult to regress, just because you're an adult doesn't mean you can't act like a child at times, " he paused for a moment before asking you a question, " Did something happen to you for this to be a negative thing?"

" No, I've- I've never done this before, " you hiccuped out quietly, lowering your voice suddenly. Maybe it was untrue. You wouldn't know. As far as you knew, you've never regressed before. Although given you didn't remember much about yesterday, maybe you just didn't remember.

" Well, that makes it even more confusing then. If you've never done this before, then why do you have such a negative viewpoint? I'm just trying to figure out why you seem to be so against this."

Keegan continued to talk in his soft tone of voice, even though you were starting to really frustrate him. He figured it was best to not raise his voice, to try and keep you calm. It seemed to be working, at least so far. You tried to wipe your face again, trying to stop the tears. It didn't do much, especially with how much your hands were shaking.

" Because it's not okay, " you said again, whispering with your tone breaking.

Keegan put his hands on your hands to stop you from wiping your eyes anymore.

" What's not okay about it? The fact that you regress? Or did I read that wrong? Also, it seems like you're about to cry here, what's wrong?" This was the most frustrating part for him, you were giving no valid reason to what you believe about this.

As he took your hands, you leaned into Keegan. Really, you practically flopped against him. You rested your head against his chest, curling up as tears began to fall. You didn't know why you did this. You just felt the sudden, almost desperate need, to have physical comfort. The moment you had done this, Keegan quickly wrapped his arms around you. The touch was loose, but welcoming your weight with ease. He held you up calmly, those calm breaths soothing you unintentionally.

" It isn't okay, I'm an adult not a kid, " you mumbled.

" It has always been okay for adults to behave like kids when they're too overwhelmed or exhausted. This doesn't make you any worse of an adult for regressing. You're still an adult, you're just acting like a kid for the moment. There's no issue with that."

He tried to stay calm and be firm about everything that he believed. You were safe, nothing was wrong, you were just exhausted. Keegan couldn't see why you were so against this, but that doesn't matter now. He eeded to calm you down. Even if it was only a little bit. Carefully and gently, he began to rub your back in a soothing pattern of circles.

You didn't reply this time, instead hiccuping quietly as you cried. The rubs helped, made you want to cling to him. You had woken up pretty cold and Keegan's warm body was making it hard to not curl up into him and bury yourself.

Keegan on the other hand had stopped talking at this point, as he knew you were clearly going through something at the moment. He had to fight the urge to coddle you like a child. But he had to calm you down first.

" Just let it all out, okay? You're safe, no one is going to hurt you here. Just let it all out."

You cuddled into Keegan. That strange fuzzy feeling was creeping up on your mind again. You didn't like it. Your shaky hands gently held Keegan's shirt, weak, but you were trying to use them through the pain they were in. You continued to quietly cry, burying your face into his shoulder instead of his chest. It helped to cry. It felt better. Keegan couldn't help but feel a bit protective of you as he continued to let you hold onto him. Your grip on his shirt just made him want to pull you in closer and comfort you even more. This was certainly going to be a long day. Even though he was letting you bury your face into his shoulder, he still had some words to say.

" It's okay... I know it's a rough morning, but it'll be all right, okay…? I'm here for you, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

" Promise? " you asked quietly, weakly, but sniffling. You didn't move from your spot.

" Promise."

He just wanted to try and reassure you as best as he could. That was the only thing he knew how to do in a situation like this.

" I promise I wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt you. You only have to just hold onto me for now, okay? You don't have to try and put on a tough act anymore, let your mind rest here."

With that, Keegan wrapped his arms tighter around you. The action pretty much pulled you into his lap. You rested on one of his thighs, half on him and half on the bed. You didn't quite want to be in his lap, as tempting as it was. He didn't stop rubbing your back. He even went as far as to tuck your head under his own.

" I've got you, it's okay, " he whispered.

You tucked your arms under yourself as you pressed close to him. His breathing was soothing. You wished you could hear his heart beat too. Unfortunately the angle you both were sitting at was a little too awkward for that. You cried when cried until no more tears could physically come out. At that point, your head hurt almost as much as your hands did. Your crying calmed to soft, quiet, sniffles and hiccups

" Hurts, " you expressed, word slightly slurring as you confessed the distress to Keegan. You hadn't even realized you regressed again.

Keegan's eyebrows furrowed together as you continued to whimper in pain. Your whimpers made him want to try and soothe you even more. You seemed so broken and tired, it broke his heart.

" Where does it hurt?" he asked gently as he hugged you a bit tighter to him. He had figured you weren't even aware you regressed, so he thought it was best to keep that to himself, for now.

You lifted one of your hands, the other tucked against your chest. Your knuckles hurt a lot today, more so than yesterday. You tried to move your fingers, but it only made your hands hurt more and shake.

" Your knuckles, right?" he asked as he looked down over at your hand, he was starting to get a bit anxious. He had a strong feeling that you were going to regress even further very soon, and he didn't want it to hurt you.

" You're shaking, and you're in quite a bit of pain... you can't even move your hand without shaking... It might be best if we take it easy for now." He was becoming more worried, your body language was very telling.

" 'm head too, " you whispered pretty shyly. It warmed his heart you were telling him, though.

" Probably from crying, but it's okay, " he lightly teased with a chuckle.

You let out a soft whine and curled up against Keegan. You gave small nods as he spoke. You wished your pain would go away and you wanted him to make it go away. You cuddled into him, quietly chewing and sucking on your bottom lip. At this point, you were in his lap. You didn't even realize either. You were curled up perfectly in his lap. His arms supporting you while he unconsciously rocked you both back and forth.

Slowly, and sweetly, Keegan kissed the top of your head. Then he peeled a hand away to carefully take one of yours. He kissed each knuckle then did the same for the other hand.

" Healing kisses, " he hummed then wrapped his arms back around you. " They'll feel better in no times now. "

It was unlikely the kisses would truly do anything, but your mind convinced you otherwise in an instant. You blinked at one of your hands, staring at the knuckles. As a sniffle escaped, a small smile spread on your lips. It warmed your chest, allowing you to feel a little better at least. You quickly buried yourself right back into his welcoming embrace. Once settled, Keegan began to rock you again.

At least the smile was progress.

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 13 days

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Writing in tags got a ball rolling and I'm thinking more and more about full ghost/bitter babysitter Vlad

Thinking about how Jazz and Danny grew up with ghost hunters as parents and a ghost as an uncle, the types of wrenches it throws into the family's relationships with each other...

Starting with the parents' perspective,

It's easy in the beginning to dismiss the paradoxical nature of ghost hunters having a ghost live with them, The Ghostbusters had Slimer, Fentonworks has V-Man. At the start, their tiny children can see and understand the difference between their friendly uncle Vlad (who at the start, looked like a pathetic wet kitten) and a 'real' dangerous ghost.

It's less easy when you and your old friend wind up in an arms race driven and perpetuated by both rational and irrational fear.

At the start when he looked human and his grudge was apparent but it was shown when he was passive-aggressively doing chores around the house and getting the kids ready for school, it was funny, guilt-trippy, sure, but also helpful. Now that the kids are teenagers and can do their own share of the chores and get themselves ready for school that grudge needs other ways to manifest and he can't break inventions and loom ominously on their bedroom ceiling forever.

"We're not *just* ghost hunters, there's more to our studies than dissection and having Vladdie around makes those other studies easier."

With time, turns into...

"Well, how would we know if our anti ghost forcefields and other ghost proofing gadgets work or not if we didn't have a ghost to test them on?"

With more time, turns into...

"This is the Fenton Ecto-Vaporizer, it turns every ghost caught in its rays into nothing but steam! Well, every ghost except the pesky patient because it grew immune to Blood Blossoms and effect amplifying serums 🙄"

And for the most part 'the ghost haunting our home for decades is immune to our shock collar and we need to make something stronger or he'll rip our spines out of our bodies and wear our skins like coats' is said in jest,

at the end of the day,

during those nights that SHOULD be silent but their guilty consciences make the whispers at the end of the bed recounting the day they not only killed, but dumped their best friend like garbage and fled the state that much louder as the bright red eyes of the vengeful spirit become their unwelcome night light...

They have to ask themselves will he kill them before or after the kids go to college?

From the kids' perspective... where do I even start?

Okay, good news is that they had a good tradeoff with a better childhood, I mean for starters their Christmases were a lot less nasty with Uncle Vlad and I strongly suspect that Little Danny's favorite Christmas story of all time was 'A Christmas Carol' as he'd love the christmas ghosts thanks to knowing his own 'christmas ghosts'.

And both kids grow up knowing that ghosts CAN be good people, they see their uncle lose his outer humanity over the years while they grow up and come to understand that just because a ghost can *look* mean and scary doesn't mean that they *are* mean.

Danny would likely have more 'tools' in his belt other than fighting. Sure, fighting's on the table if need be, but when it comes to different ghosts and their different issues, he'd likely stop and ask himself "Is this ghost who's screaming about a dance in need of a butt-kicking, or is she in need of some help?"

but as teenagers who can see that their family situation is NOT normal...

Jazz knows that there's more to Vlad's tragic story than 'I was really sick and your parents didn't visit me in the hospital :C'. She also knows he's not telling her.

Granted, nobody's really comfortable telling the girl one raised to adulthood that their parents murdered and abandoned them without a second thought,

But the whimsy and charm of 'oh look my uncle's a ghost' is lost when 1. you're not a kid anymore. and 2. getting him to be emotionally honest and upfront with you about his past is like pulling teeth.

Does Danny go to any of the adults when the accident happens? CAN he go to any of the adults when the accident happens?

It's established how he hates the idea of his parents getting a divorce, of losing his family, and at this point in time despite their attempts to hide it in front of him and Jazz, he can pick up that Vlad is not happy with or around his parents who in turn appear more and more uncomfortable with their old friend.

He knows that his mom and dad can put up with ghosts if they absolutely need to, but how will they take knowing that HE'S a ghost?

And how will Uncle Vlad himself take it?

He can trust him to teach him everything he knows about being a ghost, but at the same time, he's grown up watching Vlad destroy any and all inventions his parents make that seem too dangerous to them, so what would he do to his parents if he knew that 'their negligence killed him'?

#danny phantom #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #jack fenton #maddie fenton #danny fenton #jazz fenton #bitter babysitter au

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mynonclicheblog · 11 months

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One final Never Have I Ever love triangle thematic analysis

I've said this in one of my posts before, but the narrative is always going to favor what is best for Devi. A lot of what makes this show so juicy to dive into is because so much of its meaning is rooted in symbolism and higher concepts, not just the individual interactions you're looking at onscreen!

I think that's what doesn't work for some (not all) pro-Dxton anti-Ben folks. They see Paxton being respectful and kind to Devi, they see that he's the attractive object of her desire from day 1, and they see that the two of them genuinely do help each other in certain ways. But when these same people look at Benvi, they only see Ben making obnoxious comments to Devi (+ others), they see childish behavior and mistakes being made, and they see them frequently butting heads due to their shared competitive nature.

And honestly? I get it. These conclusions are easy to come to when you're looking at the surface, but they don't take into account the full story that's being told.

Let's get into it. 😎👇

So I mentioned earlier the idea of what is best for Devi. Not what is best for any regular person out there -- what is best for Devi Vishwakumar! Our girl expresses in no uncertain terms that she enjoys her hypercompetitive rivalry-turned-bond with Ben ("Ben's smart and we talk- mostly argue- for hours!" // "I don't want to break up with Ben. He really pushes me.") The fact that they fight and compete is not a detriment to their compatibility, it is actually the thing that makes him most desirable in her mind. She would not have wanted to be with him in the first place if this were not true. Their sharp-tongued communication style may not be the standard picture of a 'healthy' relationship for most people, but, well. Devi and Ben are far from most people.

Devi is an incredibly emotional, dynamic person who's always searching for another high. The competitive nature of her relationship with Ben is enough to satisfy her itch for novelty/excitement (her differences with Paxton don't hit this box), yet Ben's presence also provides a comforting long-term consistency in her life. He's seen the very best and the very worst of her and he always comes back. He frequently brings Devi back to herself, too, when she loses sight of what matters (friendships, family, sense of self, her goals, etc).

Then there's the dream vs. reality dichotomy that very much applies to this love triangle. Simple as it may be, it's accurate. I believe it was built that way on purpose because of how well it reflects Devi's relationships to Mohan and Nalini, which is the beating heart of what NHIE is all about. One (Mo/Pax) is more outwardly palatable than the other and provides an easygoing, self-soothing escapism that she needs in order to work through her grief. This person represents youth and the rose-colored past; Devi's tendency to idealize and indulge. The other person (Nal/Ben) is sharper around the edges, a bit harder to swallow, but pushes Devi to do better and supplies the support she needs. This person represents Devi's grounded reality; her time in the present and the woman she is growing into.

They are both important pieces of Devi's journey, but the themes of past vs. present speak for themselves. The past is something we keep in our heart; in this case, it's someone who has impacted us and we'll always carry with us -- but the ultimate goal is to move forward from that. The central relationship of Never Have I Ever is that of Devi & Nalini as they heal and grow together. In terms of Devi's romantic life (which is what this analysis is about), her relationship with Ben is the one that more closely shadows the series arc between her & Nalini.

I'd like to address some things by the individual season now. One of my observations watching s1 for the first time was that Paxton was usually aligned with bad things in Devi's life, whereas Ben was aligned with the good. ie, Paxton was the root cause of Devi's falling out with Elfab and Nalini // Ben is the one who repaired those relationships. These things aren't Paxton's fault, nor do I place any blame on him. They're just subtle narrative choices that send up unspoken flags saying, hey look, this isn't the right person for her. This theme remained in s1 for the most part, but given that it was NHIE's debut season, it planted several seeds for me about who the boys were for Devi and how they fit into her world.

Season 2 does a lot to sort out the difference in what Devi thinks she wants (Paxton) and what her heart truly wants (Ben). Yes, I'm going there, too: head vs heart. Devi's underlying preference for Ben > Paxton should be easy to spot as early as 2x01 -- if only for the fact that Devi finally bagged the hot guy of her dreams, yet, choosing to be with him isn't easy for her. In fact, as both Devi and Eleanor confirm later, she wanted to choose Ben in the first place. Like... that's crazy when you think about it!!! Despite all the pieces falling into place for her and Paxton, and against her friends' shallow advice, she decides that she won't let go of Ben. Instead, she makes the misguided decision to date both. This isn't the kind of mistake she'll ever make again. It isn't Devi acting out because of Ben -- it signals a profound attachment to him when, all things considered, picking Paxton should have been a no brainer. That revealed everything I needed to know in order to understand that being with Paxton wasn't what she wanted in her heart of hearts.

Then, of course, 3x10 brings that all home with the stomach knots comparison. It tells us that since Devi and Paxton have moved into a place of friendship, with him no longer on a pedestal, those romantic feelings (particularly on her part) have dissipated. As a bonus, Devi even explicitly states that Paxton was a dream! Ben, however -- her flawed reality -- is the one who still gives her butterflies. This is the result of Devi's slow awakening to her true inner self, the Devi who values realness and authenticity and loving through imperfection. It's a step closer to the complete acceptance of herself. (Notice as well that right after this point, it becomes more undeniable than ever that Ben is who she wants to be with.)

As long as Paxton was a romantic possibility for Devi, their relationship was tied to her feelings of insecurity and inferiority. Again this is not Paxton's fault -- he assures her of the opposite all the time -- but this is Devi's story, and we are shown over and over that Devi fears true vulnerability with Paxton (both sexually and emotionally). Compare this to the way she has always felt confident, seen, driven, and unabashedly herself in her relationship with Ben, even when they were enemies. At a glance Devi may appear to act more immature in Ben's orbit, but the truth is that she grows with him more than anyone else (besides Nalini) thanks to Ben's penchant for encouraging accountability and showing her that actions can have consequences.

Anyway, TLDR version:

Paxton = Devi's youth, Mohan, grief, distraction, the past, idealism, and the head (constructed ideas).

Ben = Devi's future, Nalini, healing, confrontation, the present, reality, and the heart (authentic truths).

Never Have I Ever's romantic story structure rests on the premise of these symbolic definitions. They are gospel, and while the characters will grow and change and become better versions of themselves, they will do so within the lines that are already drawn. The lines exist for a reason -- they are a narrative tool! These characters cannot and should not 'grow out' of their roles because those roles are their identities within the show's framework. Character development isn't getting wasted, because the characters are exactly who they are meant to be right through to the end. They are symbols. If that's not your cup of tea then so be it! But there's nothing wrong with this writing style. In fact it's one of my personal favorites because everything is so neatly defined, yet fascinating to read into 🥰

The imperfect Ben had to be Devi's true love because her love interests are, in a way, reflections of herself. By no fault of his own, Devi always felt the need to be "perfect" for Paxton because that's how she viewed him; a false paragon of everything she wanted to be. That is the point of their story together. Her acceptance of the deep love she has for Ben (and Nalini!), despite his sometimes off-putting demeanor, is aligned with Devi's acceptance of her own imperfections -- that she is hot-headed, she can be self-absorbed, she makes mistakes -- but that she is also brilliant and driven and caring and radiant, and she is equally worthy of receiving the love that she has to offer others.

Narratively speaking, it was never truly a competition.

#never have i ever #benvi #devi vishwakumar #ben gross #ben x devi #devi x ben #bevi #nhie spoilers #nhie #analysis post #*success

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thoughtfulchaos773 · 8 months

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Syd and Carmy- A Lover's Quarrel

This meta focuses on the Sexy Complications that I mentioned in a meta called Romantic Beats. I will focus on the clash between Syd and Carmy and what makes their conflicts so compelling to watch on screen.

Truth be told, I get fired up watching Carmy and Syd argue. They're like the turning point between all the other conflicts on the show.

Maybe it's because Carmy really zooms in and focuses on Syd when he's ready to fight?

Or the blocking- which has been covered before in the sydcarmy ship.

Maybe it's how Sydney goes toe toe-to-toe with Carmy if she needs to, but she's the only one to calm him down and snap him out of his patterns.

I think it's all the above.

In screenwriting- how you write arguments it's big on subtext. What I love about Syd and Carmy's arguments- in season 2- is that they're equals, and the truth of what they're really fighting about is starting to reach a boiling point. So what is the argument really about between Carmy and Syd?

2x03 Sundae Carmy turns to Syd once he hears she's not pleased with the changes. He suddenly walks towards her- why is he so close? The argument is about miscommunication and how Sydney feels left out of their process to open The Bear- whereas Carmy thinks they're still fine; they're just as close as they were before. But the blocking- Syd steps away- hinting that this should be a private discussion with Carmy. He's taking her dissatisfaction with the wall literally, and while deep down- Syd is saying- hey, I'm feeling unsure and I'm scared- you gave me all the reason to doubt you today. Please don't give me a reason not to trust you. Once she gives him the solution, Carmy only understands what Syd means- you let me know. But his inner conflict was early that day. Carmy's conflict lies in this dilemma of what it means to be closer to someone- to let someone in and what makes a good relationship. Keep in mind he shut out many people when he was in New York, and now, since Mikey, he has this opportunity to experience a deeper relationship. But that entails being present, making the person happy, and expressing his love without past hurts. He wants love to be fun and joyful. But he needs to figure out how to get there. He's telling Sydney- hey, I'm scared too; this is new to me, and I don't know how to do it because past hurts are showing up for me again. This feels complicated. I'm supposed to be doing this thing with Mikey and it only hurts it's not fun for me. but here you are and I'm also experiencing different emotions I've never felt before and I don't know how to handle it.

Sidebar: The way Fak walks away in the left gif- like he just knows some shit is about to go down between them and the stares from Marcus and Richie (while Fak looks away). So I'm one of many entranced by their arguments?

2. 2x05 Pop

I love that Claire said the errand was anti-climatic- really, the romance between them is anti-climatic (thanks to @currymanganese edit). The climactic moment happens at the end when Syd and Carmy almost argue- something Carmy clearly wants to do with Sydney. But he's mad at himself more than anything. Sydney says you're dismissing me and you weren't there, and I feel alone here. Carmy is saying I know I'm at fault here, I know it's on me- but I'm still here, right? I just want to experience something different this time- and that may get in the way, but I'm still here.

2. 2x08 Bolognese Sydney and Carmy are arguing about Claire going over the menu. But it's about trust, Carmys wanting a better experience with all the trauma he's faced, and this person who's in between their relationship. Someone he doesn't call a girlfriend creates a wedge and steps in where she shouldn't. Carmy and cannolis isn't the issue- it's an important part of his life that he should have shared with Sydney. Sydney is saying this is something you should have shared with me. You're leaving me out again. You won't let me in.

4. 2x10 The Bear

The boiling point of season 2. Carmy is triggered when he thinks he sees his EMP boss. When he returns to the kitchen, he sees the cold dead fish(is there subtext here?) and lashes out at Sydney.

This isn't about the expo station or the cold fish. It's fear that tips over for Carmy. Carmy is back in a cycle he does not want to be in. Carmy is saying, " I'm scared. I've been here before and don't want to do it again. I'm back in this stressful feeling of being in that kitchen. His kitchen. This needs to be perfect.

Sydney is clear in this argument. He was not there. Something Carmy needs to hear.

The conflict lies in Carmy getting out of his old ways so he can build a healthy relationship with Sydney- whereas Sydney has to learn trust and let go and fall so Carmy can catch her- Sydney has to be patient with Carmy's past experience, and Carmy has to learn how to be there for someone, how to know and be close to Sydney.

A well-crafted argument can change the whole dynamic of a relationship. The impending big fight is covered on this sydcarmy ship a few times, but I just wanted to point out how excited I am with the inner conflict in Carmy and Syd's dynamic.

Sooner or later- the truth boils over in arguments between two characters. Will this argument continue to reveal what Syd and Carmy are scared of- will the arguments draw understanding and closeness?

Bring it on season 3!

#sydcarmy #Any subtext I missed in their arguments or ones you want to point out? Let's discuss!#the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #the bear meta

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moonlightdancer26 · 7 months

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I'm an ex-marauders fan at this point, but haven't yet worked up the nerve to leave :( Wish me luck.

The marauders fandom promises acceptance and tolerance and lighthearted fun, but as soon as Severus comes up, the previously rosy atmosphere turns downright ugly. I've seen so many marauders fans posting or reblogging about how “your trauma is valid”, how “intentions don’t matter if you hurt someone”, and how “apologies don’t count if they’re coupled with an excuse”… who also go out of their way to justify the ‘prank’ because Sirius didn’t /mean/ to almost kill Snape, and how it’s really all Snape’s fault, and why can’t he get over it already since the marauders clearly became better people (even though Snape never received any kind of apology or any indication that they regretted their behavior)?

And these posts live side by side on their dash? Idk just needed to vent as i figure out where to go next in this fandom (or maybe another one altogether)...

WTF THIS ASK WAS FROM SEPTEMBER 😭😭 I’M SO SORRY I SWEAR I’VE BEEN SO EXCITED TO ANSWER YOUR ASK BUT I GOT TOO BUSY AND ALWAYS POSTPONED IT 😭

Anyway, I totally wish you luck anon. It’s hard switching fandoms and building up the courage to “move to the other side,” but I can tell you that it is 100% worth it when you realise how much the Snapedom differs from the Marauders fandom! As someone who’s been in the fandom for many years, seen what both sides are like, and has a bunch of friends (both online and irl) who don’t always share the same opinion, I can safely say that we are generally far more accepting of different opinions than the Marauders fandom. We tend to steer clear of them because they’re.. very persistent about their opinions and find it amusing to purposefully mistag their anti-Snape posts or to scroll through pro-Snape/anti-Marauders tags and attack the posters. But if you’re not like that and you can accept not always agreeing with friends or fandom members, then we’ll welcome you with open arms <3

And honestly I agree, I’ve seen Marauder stans make excellent and detailed analyses of their favourite characters and articulate their arguments greatly. But then all that reading comprehension shoots out the window when it comes to Snape, and you suddenly see them brush him off as nothing more than a “obsessed incel nazi” and call it a day. I’ve seen similar things happen with Snape fans as well, and I completely understand how you feel.

All I can say is: Just leave the Marauders fandom. Either announce it with a post and say that you no longer wish to be in the Marauders fandom or want to switch to the Snape fandom. Or if you want, you can create another blog altogether. The important thing is that you do it now and get it over with, because simply reading your ask and knowing how it’s negatively affecting you really upsets me. This ask was sent around 2 months ago, so I hope that by now you’ve done something about it, but if you haven’t, this is what I think about the whole situation. I wish you the best ❤️❤️ and if you, or anyone else who’s struggling with anything similar, want to DM me and talk about this, don’t hesitate to do so.

#anti marauders fandom #anti toxic fandoms #anti marauderfen #anti marauder stans #anti snaters #severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #snape #harry potter #hp #ask #asks

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outsidersstuff16 · 7 days

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the outsiders preference

In which! your family body shames you in front of them.

TW: Alcohol, Smoking, Mental Abuse, and Fighting

this preference includes Ponyboy, Johnny, Dallas, Soda, and Darry. (In that order.)

I hope you enjoy!

Ponyboy-

it was a casual Tuesday in school, passing period. You were walking to Algebra with Ponyboy Curtis, a close friend and classmate. You two were talking casually when you were shoulder checked by your rude, snobby, and obnoxious older sister.

"sorry about that! I mean if you weren't so fat you wouldn't clog up the hallway and I wouldn't have run into you." your older sister said in an obnoxious tone. She was an attention whore, and everybody already knew. Pony looked at you with a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He however knew you weren't offended and knew she was saying what she said for attention.

"How can you be that much of an attention whore? You'd rather insult your little sister for your own fame? It's sad that you peaked in middle school." you said and walked away from the situation. You let out a relieved sigh and enters Mrs. B's room. Ponyboy spoke up.

"Are you ok? What she said was wrong and untrue, but I know that it can hurt you." You nodded and sat down preparing for class to start. Pony, however, knew better and hugged you and said to meet him at his locker after class since it was the end of the day.

(class is over)

You packed up your things in your bag and went to meet Ponyboy at his locker. He greeted you with a smile and hug. You two decided to go to the DX to see Soda and Steve.

Johnny-

You and Johnny were chillin out on a Saturday and you were meeting up with your dad so he could meet Johnny. Little did you know your dad was drunk. You and Johnny arrived at the dingo where you saw your dad with a beer bottle in both hands. You though oh shit. He's been double fisting. Your dad pulled you down to sit by your arm and he started the tell Johnny all about himself. Your dad started laughing.

"Now, Johnny how did you end up with my stick of a daughter? She's so small and petite and ugly. I don't see your attraction to her." Your dad said Johnny, however, had a quick comeback.

"It's good you don't see any attraction to her considering you 26 years older than her as well as her father. As for the comments on her body, I think she's the prettiest girl in the world and my opinion as well as hers are the only ones that matter. If you don't got nothin' nice to say, then don't say it. Good day, Asshole." Johnny finished and left with you, hand in hand. He turned to you and bent down to you slightly to give you a peck on the cheek. "Don't worry about him, baby. He's just a lowlife who's jealous because you found the love he's been missing. I love you." he said

"I love you too, thanks for sticking up for me back there."

Dallas-

You and Dallas were on your way to bucks house from the dingo. It was Friday night and Dallas wanted to go to Bucks house for his party, and of course you had to be there to since you were Dallas's new girlfriend. It wasn't all that exciting to you, an anti-social however Dallas couldn't wait to get there early. You had arrived to Bucks early to help set up for the party. For some reason Dallas couldn't keep his hands off of you. A couple hours flew by, and the house started to flood with people. One of those people being you Dick headed Cousin Tyler. You kept to Dallas' side and Tyler walked up to the bar, where you and Dallas was sitting. Tyler walked up to you

"Y/n? god I haven't seen your ugly twig Ish ass in a hot minute, who's this guy you got with you?" he asked in a bitchy tone. You looked down starting to feel insecure of what he said. You couldn't respond because you didn't know how to. Dallas whipped his head around and shot a glare to Tyler.

"Hey man watch how you're talkin to my girl man leave her alone. Who do you think you are?" Dallas said looking down to you and your disappointed face. "Hey honey, you'll be okay he's nothin. How'd he know you though?" You shook your head gently.

"he's my cousin Dal..." you said in a soft tone. "Excuse me." you excused yourself to go up to Dal's room. you walked upstairs and reached his room and opened the door and walked to his bed. You paused for a moment before sitting down. You looked to the floor and asked yourself why you had to be as small as you were and remembered all of the things Tyler said to you growing up; Go eat a burger, stupid stick, twig, you look like a crack addict with those thighs. It always mentally hurt you, but he did it in front of Dallas of all people. There was no way Dallas would love you after he heard your own cousin say that. Or so you thought. You stepped outside of your thoughts for more than just a moment to hear a man say "oh yeah Dallas! get 'em. It scared the shit out of you. You thought for sure the fuzz was gonna end up coming around by the end of the night tonight. A few moments later, Dallas entered the room with a bruised cheek. He let a few little laughs escape.

"Sorry, Sweetheart. I beat up your cousin for what he said... I hope you don't mind..." Dallas said, grabbing his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket along with his lighter. You pulled him closer and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks baby.." you say quietly

Sodapop-

It was a warm Tuesday summer morning, and you were with your boyfriend, Sodapop Curtis. It was a long night last night. You woke up next to your boyfriend in your bed. you turned to face him, admiring his features. You couldn't help but adore over his beauty. He was so beautiful. Soda then woke up.

"take a picture baby, it will last a whole lot longer." he said in a snarky tone. Your creepy Uncle walked in.

"hey Y/n. You wanna get a drink with me? I'll have lots of fun with ya hunny." he tried to pry himself between your legs.

"no, sorry I'm staying with my boyfriend right now." You replied gently. He got mad and punched a nearby wall.

"Damnit Y/n! You whore! Ever since your stupid fat ass started to date him you uh-uh-uh started um-" he paused and sighed "you've become more distant from me, you've gotten fatter and uglier sweetheart..." he tried this trick before with you. He was trying to sweet talk his way into you and Soda's down fall, however soda was not having it.

"What the hell do you mean uglier, bitch? Have you looked into the mirror lately, ogre? I don't care if she gains weight, she still will look pretty. Unlike you, you big, backed bitch." Soda spat in a hateful tone. You uncle attempted to come over and rip him from the bed spread but Soda got up and put your uncle into a head lock. "aww are you feelin' regret? I sure as hell hope so, talkin' about my girl like that." Soda let him go and pushed him out of your room. You uncle looked back in fear. Soda held a glare towards him and your uncle ran out of the house.

"Thanks Soda... I don't know what would have happened if you didn't do anything..." Soda climbed back in bed right next to you and gave you a passionate kiss.

Darry-

You and Darry just got done at a date and he had your smaller hand n his bigger one. You smiled warmly at him and continued to walk down the street to your home.

"Alright so this is me." you said and kissed him goodbye. You walked up on to your front porch. You mother threw a beer bottle and almost hit you. "Mom! Are you drunk again?" You yelled hoping Darry heard you, he did and ran back to you.

"Y/n! You fat obese whore! I wish you fuckin death you're my biggest mistake! " Your mother yelled, tears started to come to your eyes, and you stumbled back.

"Shut up, bitch you shouldn't be a parent. Burn in hell." Darry said calmly as he walked over to you giving you a huge hug and picking you up. "See hunny, you're not fat or obese I can carry you easily, baby.

"Darry, do you think I'm a mistake?" You ask, letting your mothers' words infiltrate your thoughts.

"No baby, you're not a mistake. Even if you where it would be the only good mistake she made, sweetheart." you snuggle yourself into his shoulder and find comfort in his scent. "I love you" he said gently.

"I love you too." You say with passion.

The END

#dallas winston x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #darry x reader #dally x reader #ponyboy x reader #sodapop x reader #johnny x reader #darry curtis #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #sodapop curtis

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pattern-recognition · 3 months

Text

In the mass protest decade, street explosions created revolutionary situations, often on accident. But a protest is very poorly equipped to take advantage of a revolutionary situation, and that particular kind of protest is especially bad at it. If you believe that you can forge a better society, if you are willing to run the risk of trying, then you should enter the vacuum yourself. But a diffuse group of individuals who come out to the streets for very different reasons cannot simply take power themselves, at least not as an entire diffuse group of individuals. Once someone goes in there and takes power in the name of the masses, you are talking about a type of vanguard—a particular ideological project, and a minority of people who dare to try to represent the rest of the population. In some of the more utopian strains of anti-authoritarian thought, the riot is supposed to become the new society, but this has not worked out so far.11 Perhaps it might, someday, but it would probably not work very well in the actually existing Global South, which is surrounded by so many foreign actors that might be sucked very quickly into an apparent power vacuum by the possibility of easy profit and plunder.

If some new group boldly steps into the vacuum, manages to stay there, and transforms society, then that’s a revolution. But if you find your political system broadly acceptable, or you don’t think you can replace it with something better, then the thing to do is to negotiate. That is called reform. You can use your power on the streets to extract concessions, if you play it right. But once more, this necessarily entails representation.

It was not just Mayara and Haddad who overlapped in their answers to my question. I heard it very often—it came in different forms, but I heard it more than any other response. I think Hossam Bahgat put it best, or at least, the most directly.

“Organize. Create an organized movement. And don’t be afraid of representation,” he said without hesitation, in his office in Giza, as his world fell apart around him. “We thought representation was elitism, but actually it is the essence of democracy.” I heard answers like this over and over, confirming research compiled by scholars. As early as 1975, William Gamson found that movements succeed more often when they deploy hierarchical forms of organization. In a wide-ranging 2022 study, Mark Beissinger found that loose uprisings of the Maidan type tend to increase inequality and ethnic tensions, while they do not consolidate democracy or end corruption.

“After Maidan, I decided I do not believe in self-organization,” said Artem Tidva, the young leftist who brought a red European Union flag to the square, as we grabbed a bite to eat in central Kyiv in the summer of 2021. “I used to be more anarchist. Back then everyone wanted to do an assembly; whenever there was a protest, always an assembly. But I think any revolution with no organized labor party will just give more power to economic elites, who are already very well-organized.” Unlike some of his former comrades, Artem never gave up on the Ukrainian uprising and stayed active in the post-Maidan political scene, working to push for center-left, anti-racist alternatives in the context of the new political order. But in Ukraine, it seemed clear that the uprising had benefited the groups that had already formed coherent, disciplined organizations before the uprising began, and we had seen more evidence of that earlier in the day.

“I definitely don’t have the same views on these things as I did before 2013,” said Lucas “Vegetable” Monteiro. He still believes that a better society must be born out of this one, not just created after some revolution seizes state power. But he now thinks that the Movimento Passe Livre turned the principles of horizontalism, autonomy, and prefiguration “into a dogma, into a kind of religion, and we could not turn them into real political practice. Instead, they became a kind of identity. And we ended up quickly crashing into barriers that we ourselves had created.” The MPL still exists, but no one who was in the group in 2013 is still a member. Looking back on 2019 in Hong Kong, Theo told me, “[It] was very fun to see the China building defaced, I had a lot of fun on the streets, but the decentralized nature of the movement meant that there was no room for discussion about how it should work, or how a coherent strategy could be developed.”

Not everyone I met came out of the decade adopting positions in favor of formal structures, in support of “verticalism” and hierarchy, insisting that representation matters. Mayara, for example, remains mostly true to the ideals she adopted as a young punk. But everyone moved in the same direction. I spent years doing interviews, and not one person told me that they had become more horizontalist, or more anarchist, or more in favor of spontaneity and structurelessness. Some people stayed in the same place. But everyone that changed their views on the question of organization moved closer to classically “Leninist” ones.

Bevins, Vincent. If We Burn: The Mass Protest Decade and the Missing Revolution

#it all comes back to Lenin

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unicyclehippo · 9 months

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Ameliorate?

her third meeting with imogen took place on the third, which launda appreciated very much. she admired the day calendar propped up on her desk—the big 3 stamped in black, and coffee - doctor temult looped excitedly across most of the page. beneath it, much smaller, was delivery GE74-226 in her assistant’s cramped and slanted lettering.

‘right, we’ve got a shit tonne of work to do today so whether the fuck is going on between you two, you can’t be an hour late again,’ ashton said, shouldering in through the closed door.

‘mister greymoore! what have i said about knocking?’

ashton dragged a curious eye over her office. ‘there’s no one here.’

‘it’s about etiquette! i could have been - oh, i don’t know - on the phone. or taking a private meeting.’

‘you weren’t.’

‘but i could have been,’ she insisted.

ashton sighed. ‘you want me to go back and knock, don’t you?’

laudna smiled brightly at the suggestion and nodded. ‘please. practice makes perfect!’

ashton sighed again, louder. he stomped out of the office and closed the door. laudna waited. and waited. she waited long enough that it occurred to her ashton had decided it wasn’t worth it and had simply left, which is when they knocked.

‘come in!’ she trilled. ‘good morning, mister greymoore!’

ashton rolled his eye mightily. ‘morning, doctor bradbury. can i run through your schedule now, or do i have to curtesy too?’

‘i’m not a monarch, mister greymoore, the knocking was perfectly adequate. and very well done. go ahead!’

he shook his head. ‘right. so, spanner in my perfect schedule for you, treshi called this morning. set up a compulsory wank session for all of staff, two to three.’

‘um.’

‘by wank,’ they elaborated, ‘i mean it’s gonna be bullshit. he’ll say how good he is and everyone’s gonna agree even if they don’t think it’s true.’

‘ah.’ laudna relaxed. ‘yes, of course, you mean it as a manner of self-gratification on his behalf. non-literal wank. how funny! though you must never,’ she said gravely, ‘say it again. it’s terribly inappropriate for work.’

laughter lit up ashton’s eye, green shining prettily. a big grin split his face in two. ‘sure, doc. i’ll remember that.’

‘like you remember to knock, i’m sure.’ ashton laughed at that, too, and laudna beamed down at her papers.

she wasn’t—had never been—particularly good with people. when ashton had been assigned to her, her first ever student, she had been sure that it would go terribly. and it had, for the first week. she had been controlling and stern and brittle. they had been brash and argumentative and, one might say, extremely anti-authoritarian. the second week had been not much better; after her poor behaviour, she had withdrawn, going to such agonising lengths to be direct and complete and courteous that it was better for them both if she simply never spoke at all. it was ashton, braver and better than she by far, who made the effort to try again, and so they had reached a tentative understanding and remained there for several weeks. right up until the hishari mask was delivered into her hands. that was when everything changed. not just between them but for the museum, for laudna. in the upheaval that followed—the recreation, the reveal, her lecture and curated exhibit of the hishari culture, her denouncement of hytroga’s timeline, her rising “stardom” and increasing public appearances—ashton had made themself indispensable. during the preparations, he had been knowledgeable and careful and, in those private moments when he thought no one present enough to notice, downright reverent. he loved their work, and if that had been the only thing laudna liked about him, that would have been more than enough. as it turned out, ashton was wonderful and she had the honour of front row seats, as they say, to witnessing ashton grow into a fine young man. as everything changed, ashton remained steady as a rock. grew with each challenge thrown their way into a veritable pillar. figuratively and literally—laudna had overheard teatime gossip amongst her colleagues that insisted ashton had become a “handsome guy”, “a hunk”, and “a juicy, prime slab of beef”, which was one of ashton’s favourite.

now, the proof of that was the pop of stitches in the shoulders of their coat as ashton dropped carelessly into the chair in front of laudna’s desk. the sound made her wince and she began to rifle through her drawer.

‘okay, so, schedule.’ he pulled it up on his tablet, squinting at it. ‘while you were off with seshadri—‘

‘she has a title, mister greymoore.’

‘—like i said, treshi called about the meeting thing. everyone important’s gonna be there—never been so fucking thankful to be a nobody in my life. right. first you’ve got a call with that, uh, religious nut over in tal’dorei, that’s at nine-thirty.’

‘mhm,’ laudna said, reprovingly, instead of repeating herself. mostly because although she knew miss pike trickfoot had a title, she couldn’t quite recall what it was. her eminence, perhaps? laudna scowled thoughtfully down at the contents of the drawer. where on earth was her sewing kit?

‘then quarter past ten you’ve got the delivery. the movers are taking it straight to storage, it’s gotta go through stasis before you can look at it but i blocked it out because i figure you’ll wanna oversee it anyway. twelve, you’ve got your coffee date,’ he said with an odd inflection, ‘two to three is treshi’s stupid meeting. don’t be late. lab time four to eight, and at five vudol requested your “expert insight” on that duskmaven statue—‘

‘why the air quotes?’

‘because,’ he said, patiently amused, ‘vudol doesn’t care what you say about the statue.’

laudna frowned at him. ‘i am the foremost expert on pre-reiloran marquet.’

‘yeah, sure. that’s not why they want to see you.’

‘then…why?’

‘because vudol thinks you’re hot.’

‘oh. really? hm.’ she pushed the drawer shut, drummed her fingers against it. her nails clacked against the glossy wood, the iron handle. ‘is that why they need so much help with their eighth century marquesian translations?’ ashton nodded, smirking. ‘i’m actually rather relieved to hear that, i thought somehow mistress seshadri had hired an idiot. um. would you send them one of your impolite emails telling them i can’t make it?’

‘honestly it’d be a fucking joy. how impolite?’ she see-sawed her hand. ‘got it. guess that means you’re not into vudol, then,’ ashton said, more statement than question. ‘makes sense. not really your type.’

‘i don’t—you always manage to turn work conversations into something else, mister greymoore—‘

‘it’s a gift,’ they shrugged.

‘it really is. you’re a very gifted conversationalist—‘

‘i’m really not, you’re just worse.’

‘—and a good friend.’ he looked away at that, scratched at the dry skin over his eyepatch. he did not, she noted happily, deny that he was her friend. ‘which is why i shall indulge—just this once!—in your inappropriate tangents and say that i don’t really have a type.’

discomfort forgotten, ashton turned back to face her so quickly she heard their neck crack.

‘you’re joking,’ he said, tone flat.

‘no?’

his mouth worked for a moment but he didn’t say anything, only stared at her wide-eyed. then he turned that stare on the little marquesian horse statue that sat pride of place on her desk. looking abruptly exhausted, he ran a big hand over his face, rubbed his right eye.

‘you’re not joking. oh my god.’ he huffed a laugh. ‘yknow, for someone so observant, you’re not very smart.’

an odd tangent, and slightly hurtful, but laudna couldn’t say he wasn’t right. she said as much, fiddling with the frilled cuff of her sleeves, and added, ‘i enjoyed book learning very much but my school life was interrupted often and troubled. in the end, my grades weren’t quite what i hoped they would be.’ a fond smile touched her lips and she said, lifting her chin proudly, ‘i did find my way here, in the end.’

ashton smiled. there was a strange expression on their face that she couldn’t place. ‘yeah. you did. some things take a little time, i guess.’

‘all the best things in life. now that’s a very good piece of advice, and a good quote. i wonder who said it first? regardless, tell that advisor of yours that i’m doing a good job, won’t you?’ ashton grumbled an agreement and stood. ‘ah - before you leave - your coat, mister greymoore.’

‘it’s fine.’

‘nonsense. i won’t have my post-grad wandering the halls looking like some dickensian urchin. coat, please.’ she stood, walked around the desk, and held out her hand for it, waiting patiently as he wrestled with his pride.

finally, he gave in, as he had every time she did this for him. hemming the ankles of his too-long slacks, taking in the neat button-ups. she had even mended the elbows of this same coat when he first came in wearing it, taking the tattered threads and returning it with fun elbow patches. it was about that time that he realised laudna enjoyed it and stopped fighting her so much; looking back, it likely helped that she had told him she enjoyed it. costuming had been her entry into history, after all, and she so rarely had time to indulge now.

ashton yanked his coat off and passed it over.

‘i think you’ll need a little more space in the shoulders,’ she mused, touching her thumb to the strained fabric.

‘don’t waste your time.’

‘now ashton, what did i just say? all the best things take a little time.’

did he understand what she was saying? that she regarded them, ashton, as someone quite wonderful and deserving of her time? he didn’t acknowledge it, storming out of her office with a rough grunt and a wave. it was fine. if he didn’t understand, she would simply write it effusively into his letter of recommendation when the time came.

#prompt fill #tagging my stories #I didn’t use the word but i meant to i just only wrote a quarter of the scene in my mind & ran out of time #this is for my modern au museum au i love it!!!!#laudna my beloved #imodna #only hinted at here but eventually it is #n I love laudna n ashton friendship it’s so good

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