#expert in knowing your target audience

[windrush-child]

He’s one step away from posting this with an Almave bottle

[worldwright]

looks like ✨️someone✨️ isn't as big an expert on every mental health condition on the planet as they claim to be

[lizardlicks]

You know that walrus vs fairies thing is a really good example of suspension of disbelief and how poor writing can immediately ruin it.

Further, it's a good example of how propaganda and indoctrination can be broken.

Check this out: if you are asked to believe something by a person who presents themselves as an authority about a subject in which you have little to no experience, you have no ground to question them on. Even if it seems fake, human brains are really good about going, "that doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about [thing] to dispute that." We have to specifically train ourselves to stop and go do our own research. And if it's a big, complicated topic which you're brand new to, that's really intimidating!

This is a feature rather than a bug of being a social species. Collectively, we store far more knowledge than anyone if us could store individually. It means that even if you have never seen a walrus in your life, you can be reasonably confident that you still "know" that they're large, tusked, aquatic mammals which tend to favor colder water and they don't really go farther inland than a couple miles.

It also means that you are primed to accept new information on a subject with which you have little to no direct experience: e.g. fairies are real, you just didn't know that until now.

Propaganda and indoctrination work because they're presented as authoritative sources on subjects that the target audience doesn't have much experience with. That also means those can be combatted by research and first hand experience. Multiple times I've seen posts from people who climbed out of the weeds of Q Anon because one of those secret info drops started making claims about subjects that the person was something of an expert in: electricity, infrastructure, medicine, engineering.

It's also why you can get so into reading a great fantasy or sci-fi novel that has otherwise stellar writing and world crafting, then suddenly get kicked right out of it again when the author, say, has a character fall into a convenient, non-magical coma for a month, or they start walking on a bad fracture after a couple of days without some fancy technological assistance. You have a body, and you might not be a doctor, but you can know enough to understand that's not how bodies generally work, and if the author has not previously established that their characters aren't human and work totally differently, a pall of doubt and frustration taints everything that comes there after.

Idk where I'm going with this. I just think it's neat! Definitely something to keep in mind when trying to effectively communicate with people, regardless of if you're trying to educate or simply entertain.

[jisungsdaydreamer]

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

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📢 ©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.

[wondwaeland]

The Purge AU (official title TBD)

WARNING: due to the original Purge franchise being rated R (films) and TV-MA (tv), this AU will contain violence, mentions of t°rture, SA, murd°r, and gore. This AU is rated for MATURE AUDIENCES. Please continue at your own discretion.

Character Profiles under cut

The Circus - a Purge group that functions as more psychopathic vigilantes, targeting false companies, hate groups, and other NFFA groups

Aren't government officials off limits?

It's the purge where nothing is legally binding for a twelve hour period, that rule does not make sense. In my au, the government should be fair game.

Caine Eden

Age: 35; Son of a NFFA politician, participates to a send a message to the NFFA and other government officials that they aren't safe; leads a crew dubbed "The Circus" under the name "The Ringleader;" he targets corrupt power in the government and everyday corporations || "Bubble" - Caine's fly on the wall program installed in every NFFA software that makes him one step ahead.

Rebecca-Agatha "Ragatha" Hansen

Age: 30; Code Name: "The Ragdoll," Agatha started participating due to bottled up tension and anger, she joined the Circus after her old team "The Dollhouse" was disbanded two years into the Purge era; she mainly goes after convicted sex offenders; during the normal day, she's nurse in a senior living home

Jackson "Jax" O'Hara

Age: 22; Code Name: "The Rabbit," Jax was one of the first to join the Circus having worked for the NFFA alongside Caine; he joined in order to cause chaos and destruction with no ramifications, if people benefit from his kills...bonus; he currently works in IT for the NFFA

Gina "Gangle" Engleman

Age: 26; Code Name: "Ribbons," Gina was roped into The Circus by accident, Jax commandeered her backseat and told her to drive as his getaway car soon after the sirens rang, Caine provided her refuge for the night; she doesn't participate every year, but she when she does its towards a specific group of people, more often than not she drives the mobile base to pick up stragglers and bring them to a safe zone; she normally works as a kids' theater director and daycare attendant

Zayne "Zooble" Tetsuo

Age: 22; Code Name: "The Amalgamation," Zayne is The Circus' tech expert and makes all the fun weaponry for each person's task for the Purge, they joined The Circus after Gina enlisted them for their string of hits and stayed ever since; they rarely take to the field, but will hop on the mobile base to pick up stragglers and bring them to a safe zone with Gina; they normally work in IT at a hole-in-the-wall tech repair shop; no one truly knows how they got their Purge name

Reginald "Reggie" Henry

Age: 48; Code Name: "The King," he was once part of a duo with a close friend but after she was downed, he joined The Circus after Caine invited him, hearing that he Purged for charity - targeting false charities; he is a retired veteran and works part time at the youth center; he is currently retired from Purge activities but acts as an advisor to the rest of The Circus

"Pomni"

Age:25; known as "The Jester," she is feared in the streets due to her kill count and no clear loyalty to the NFFA's agenda or to the Circus, she currently works in tandem with the Circus but shows no permanent ties just yet ; during normal hours, she works as a teller for one of the most targeted banks of the night

[topazadine]

Identifying bad writing advice

I have seen what seems to be a backlash against the genre of writing advice in recent days. By that, I mean I saw like two posts about it within a few days of one another. That, to me, is an epidemic! We need a global symposium discussing the peoples' distrust of writing advice.

Not really, but one does need to practice caution when reading anything that tries to tell you to do something. That includes me, and even this post that you're reading.

There are tons of excellent guides out there helping to refine your unique voice rather than change it. BUT you should treat everything you read with some caution and ask if it resonates with you.

With that said, let's take a look at some warning signs that you might be getting bad advice.

Inexperienced source

You need to understand writing on a deep level if you're going to act as an authority on it. Someone who has just started writing can share their experience, but they shouldn't position themselves as an expert by any means.

Also, writing takes years to learn. Literally years. Casually writing for two years or so is not going to teach you everything you need to know so that you can share that with others.

I would also say that while you do not need formal training to be a writer, you should have some formal training to teach writing or give advice. As I'll discuss more later on, being able to do something well is very different than being able to explain how to do it.

If someone doesn't provide their credentials and their suggestions seem a little off, then they may not have the experience necessary to help you. I've shared my own credentials in several other posts so I won't belabor them, but I have written over two million words of creative writing, hold a BA and an MA, and have 15+ years of practice. I also tutored writing students for about five years.

Unengaging writing

This is pretty self-explanatory. If the advice-giver's writing is boring, or uninteresting, or hard to follow, they probably need to spend more time developing their own craft before they try to teach anyone else.

I include poor formatting in this as well. If someone is doing wacky things with their formatting that make it hard to read their guide, like using extra teeny tiny small font or enormous fonts, they are doing this more to show off how smart they are than helping you.

The "extra small super cute fonts" thing is also kind of ableist because low vision people are going to have to rachet their magnification up to 10000 to see anything. This suggests that the writer is not thinking about their audience.

Universalizing everything

The problem with advice about such a diverse craft is that it is almost impossible to target every potential need. Similarly, every advice-giver is coming from their own perspective and may not be able to see beyond their own experiences, biases, and so on.

If someone says "all good writers do this" or "always avoid this," they are likely not going to help you much.

With any advice, you should take what resonates and leave the rest. Sometimes, what resonates is uncomfortable, but you know deep down in your heart that it's true. That's common, especially if you have some bad habits holding you back but you're unwilling to fix them.

I try to always include a caveat that I am only coming from my own perspective and what I say may not apply to you. If someone writes an advice guide and tries to say that their way is the only good way to do something, or that anyone who doesn't follow their advice is a "bad writer," then they aren't thinking beyond their own nose.

Excessive prescriptivism

There are very few real rules in writing. In fact, I have distilled them down to only two that apply to everyone.

Writing needs to communicate something to someone.

Writing needs to be written so that others can easily understand (and enjoy) that message.

These two adages cover damn near everything about the craft, including the importance of grammar, spelling, syntax, and so on. For creative writing, they also consider the importance of coherent plots, understandable characters, good dialogue, avoiding infodumping, and so on.

Going further, these two rules explain that your writing should have themes and symbols meant to provide a deeper meaning without throwing it right in the reader's face, because readers don't like being lectured.

Note that these rules do not tell you how to create your characters, or how to format your writing, or anything like that. Because those things are all very context-specific, and what I suggest may not alway apply.

It's why older writers grit their teeth at younger writers bashing them over the head with "show don't tell" because there is nuance here. And you get to that nuance by writing a lot. Which is why beginner writers haven't found that nuance yet. And which is why beginner writers should not be giving advice.

Fails to explain the reasoning

Doing something and teaching something, as I said above, are very different things. Someone can be an amazing writer, but when they try to explain themselves, they fall flat. Similarly, you can be an avid reader but an atrocious beta reader because you have no idea how to identify problems and suggest solutions.

Having spent years learning craft and helping others improve, I can identify why something works or doesn't, and I can explain this in a way that makes sense. For example, my spicy mundanity post doesn't just say "mechanical descriptions are boring."

The post explains why those descriptions are unengaging, then shows examples of how to fix it, and then explains why those passages are better.

Similarly, my post on how not to write a character doesn't just say "avoid this." It explains why certain tropes are annoying and gives advice on how to fix those things.

I often link my advice back to key concepts, including cognitive load and audience, in order to demonstrate that at its heart, writing is deceptively simple: it's about communicating something to someone in an entertaining way. But there are millions of ways to do this successfully, and everyone needs to find their own path to success.

If someone just says "do this" without explaining why this is a better option, they're not telling you anything. They are just giving their opinion about what makes good writing without helping you improve.

Discouraging or elitist

Anyone who makes you feel like shit and like you can't possibly ever be a good writer ... is an asshole. Anyone who berates you for mistakes you make while learning is trying to gatekeep one of the world's oldest art forms - storytelling - for no reason other than to feel better about themselves.

You do not need an English degree or Creative Writing degree or any degree to be a good writer. You don't need formal training; (good) free advice you find on the internet, when applied systematically, can do wonders for you.

All you really need to be a good writer is time, practice, and patience. Just like anyone can pick up an instrument and become proficient if they do it over and over again, so can anyone become a great writer if they persevere.

Many people unfortunately fall into this trap of thinking that writers are some special breed of human who were innately gifted by the gods themselves. Sure, you can have an inclination toward writing, just like you can have an inclination toward anything else. But you can also brute force that talent through hard work.

Writers are not like athletes, where genetics and physical fitness and early life development all play a role in whether you can get to the Olympics. Some people just suck at sports and it's unlikely they will ever improve. I am one of those people. Rest assured I understand.

Thankfully, though, writing is much more forgiving and welcoming than that. (Though not all writers are very forgiving and welcoming.)

It may take you longer than someone "naturally gifted," and you may struggle more, but anyone can become a good writer with practice.

Those who tell you otherwise, or who tear down your work and mock you, or who insist that you need XYZ degree or skill or experience or whatever, are wrong.

Please don't listen to them. Please don't let them ruin your joy.

If you'd like to read more of my work, consider buying my book!

9 Years Yearning is a gay coming-of-age romance set in a fantasy world. It follows Uileac Korviridi, a young soldier training at the War Academy. His primary motivations are honoring the memory of his late parents, protecting his little sister Cerie, and becoming a top-notch soldier.

However, there's a problem: Orrinir Relickim, a rough and tough fellow pupil who just can't seem to leave Uileac alone.

The book features poetry, descriptions of a beautiful country inspired by Mongolia, and a whole lot of tsundere vibes.

You can also check it out on Goodreads for a list of expanded distribution.

Be sure to preorder Pride Before a Fall, arriving January 1, 2025!

If you do purchase my book, don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are vital for visibility on Amazon and help to support indie authors like me. Whenever you love a book, be sure to let the author know! It's much appreciated.

I've also created a masterlist of writing resources that you can peruse at your leisure, all for free.

Enjoy!

[bekolxeram]

I honestly think it's nothing personal. Someone just saw your post and felt pity because the writers often don't do this much research when it comes to the show, so OP and those reblogging the post probably thought you'd do yourself a favor if you stopped obsessing over the timeline. What they failed to notice, though, is that this is not really the focus of your analyses; you don't care about the timeline, you care about the aviation stuff. It's your passion so it's normal that you want to see it represented well or at least somewhat believable in the show. This is not a crime.

If you worry about potentially irritating people, you could always add a disclaimer on top of the post that this is just an info dump about the real world, but the show ultimately does what it wants to do so no one here should feel obligated to subscribe to your theories.

I think there are a lot of people actually appreciating your input to our fandom, but there will obviously be some who don't care and get irritated. It's normal. I get irritated all the time when I scroll on my "For you" page here on Tumblr just because people headcanon Buck and Tommy in a way that I don't. That shouldn't stop them from writing what they want, though. It just says that I'm not their target audience. I think the same's with you. If someone's really this annoyed because you write about something you're passionate about and it collides with what they believe to be true, let them. Add a tag that they could block if they don't want to see it. But don't let them dictate what you write about.

Sorry, this got really long, but I really want you to know that it's okay to be yourself here, even if some people don't appreciate it. There will always be those who don't, but there will also be those who do. I think your input is great for fanfic writing purposes at least. If you help just one person with your knowledge, I think it's enough to feel satisfied. Also, if Buck was real, I bet that your blog would be one of his favorites because he could actually learn some cool stuff about his boyfriend's profession.

Ultimately, this is your mental health and no one here can force you to do something you don't feel comfortable with. If their comments made you feel like you shouldn't impose, it's a shame but if helps your mental health it's fine. I'll miss your analyses and I'm sure plenty of people will too. But we'll have to accept it because there's a real person behind this screen and their comfort should be prioritized on this blog. But if a part of you feels like you don't want to stop, please listen to it before you make this decision and remember that it's okay to be fully and unapologetically yourself.

I actually love long posts. And this is so lovely, I teared up a bit reading it yesterday, so thank you.

I think you put into words very accurately what I wasn't able to. I made my first ever post the day 7x09 aired. (It was actually my 30th birthday.) Something happened that week, a Singapore B777 encountered severe turbulence over Myanmar, injuring 104, killing 1. The media immediately pointed out the jet "plunging 6000 ft in 3 minutes" using FlightRadar24 data. I'm not talking about tabloids, I'm talking about BBC, Reuters, Al Jazeera, reputable news agencies. Aviation experts contacted the media upon reading the articles and told them a descent rate of 2000 fpm is actually standard, more so when there are injured passengers in need of urgent medical attention. Even then the media didn't walk back their sensationalized statements until a week later. That combined with the widespread attention Boeing has gotten after the MCAS scandal and the door plug blowout earlier this year, this kind of clickbait-y reporting with numerous misconceptions always gives me the ick.

Then, as you remember, the tide on BuckTommy turned drastically around that time, when a subsection of the fandom realized Tommy was staying. And that's when I started seeing takes like he only "drove the helicopter", Hen was the hero, Tommy did nothing and didn't deserve a medal. As you can see I was already in that mindset, being irritated by aviation misconceptions, I really wanted to hit back with my measly little knowledge about flying. I was already seeing people over here getting annoyed by the constant negativity and fighting, then I had an idea, why not try explaining the 5 years vs 7 years at Air Ops conundrum by bringing the intensive training for LAFD pilots into it? I mean, the introduction Tommy gave Buck during the Harbor Tour was lifted verbatim from the real LAFD website. The writers didn't even have to google the "training takes 2 years" part, it was on the same page, they just had to scroll down a little and read a few more lines.

I just thought it would be a fun little hc/potential background story for Tommy, showing how hard it is to be a firefighting pilot. On top of that, competency and dedication towards one's goal is just super hot. Even the CAL FIRE air tanker stuff I wasn't trying to persuade others that the invisible string theory is wrong. I just saw and loved the idea that Tommy always "knows a guy". We only saw one example in canon of that, him being friends with the Las Vegas fights promoter, so I was like, wait, he knew a guy with CAL FIRE too! Maybe also sneaking in some fun facts about the power and danger of water dropping in an urban environment. I never intended to nitpick, I'm just trying to bring 2 things I love together. I mean real CAL FIRE didn't even start operating C-130 until last year, and I don't give a damn about it.

I wrote about my fear of one day being mistaken as one of the Tommy bashers because my current overfixation coincides with what the haters decide to fuss about that day. I saw pushback against looking too much into the timeline first 2 times I posted about Tommy's pilot career. As I said, I planned to keep writing about things I enjoy until the day comes that I unknowingly walk into the bear trap. Honestly, I feel like this time is it.

Like many BuckTommy enjoyers, I've been a little on edge since the hiatus started. We've got attacked, harassed and bombarded daily by a thousand different reasons Tommy supposedly won't be back for S8. Then I saw those planes, I saw that hangar, and I was so excited. I had so many ideas and speculations to play with. The 8x02 title came out, I finally got a couple aviation related asks, I was so pumped. I wasn't even thinking about CAL FIRE at the time, someone asked if it was possible Tommy flew that plane realistically, so answered it. And hours later, that post popped up, explicitly mentioning my theory, with 200+ notes. It was just... a little overwhelming.

I'm not even mad at those who think I obsessed over these things too much. I just... wasn't prepared for that. I thought, comparing to the months of bad faith discourse, I was just talking planes, helicopters and clouds, that should be quite tame? I did not expect it to be actually controversial. I just don't feel the same happiness nerding out about aviation in this fandom afterwards. Maybe I just need some time to process and perhaps tone it down? I don't know. I still have many ideas in my head and those asks in my inbox.

But once again, thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings. You have no idea how good that makes me feel.

[a-little-revolution]

Hi - I'm a relatively new follower, but I love the variety in what you put out.

I work in healthcare and regularly give talks on very basic disability concepts (why eugenics is wrong, how to get AAC access in hospitals, shut the hell up about parents' rights, don't use slurs in educational talks, etc.).

Is there anything you'd recommend specifically for doctors, nurses, and other care providers in terms of a) not creating problems, and b) actually providing quality healthcare for little people? Assume the target audience knows nothing.

Hello! Welcome!! Thank you so much, I try ^^

I gave a talk a while ago on trans inclusive healthcare, and included a lot of disability related things since there's plenty of intersection. As I'm sure you know, the medical system still has a long way to go when it comes to treating disabled folk (and frankly anyone who isn't a thin, white, cishet male).

With dwarfism specifically, the learning curve is astronomical - here's my thoughts: (And note, I am someone who's had roughly fourteen surgeries, countless scans, and endless doctors visits - so I think I can call myself an expert lol)

The first thing is just establishing basic knowledge on dwarfism - how it presents in a person, how it affects mobility and range of motion, what the terminology is etc. Knowing the related conditions is vital as well - my Achondroplasia for instance comes with sleep apnea, respiratory conditions, arthritis, club foot, loose knees, etc. I'm often the expert on my own condition, but I shouldn't have to be relied on as a teacher in traumatic situations.

Make waiting rooms, doctor's offices, surgical rooms, etc. accessible to those bellow 5 feet! Most of the time I cannot get up on an exam table as they are too high and I am not provided a stool without making a special request. The same goes for xray tables, gurneys, etc. I cannot express the frustration of coming into every medical room and not being able to sit or lay down without assistance.

Respect and autonomy are big things that get missed - assumptions that my life isn't worth living, that my pain isn't real, that I don't participate in daily activities, that I don't have sex or want children etc. are just some of the misconceptions I come across with medical professionals and their assistants. Last year during and x-ray was the first time a medical professional ASKED before touching me.

For now this is what I can think of, I thank you for your patience as I do have CPTSD from my medical trauma. I've talked more on being a patient with dwarfism here! Hope this helps!

-Elliot (they/them)

[the-rainbow-lesbian]

Hi @menalez, you know I thought I was being courteous by keeping quiet about my grievances with you and not airing them publicly but I guess that isn't mutual, if you really wanted to have a conversation with me you could've talked to me on discord, you're not blocked there.

when October 7th first happened I was unwell tbh and very confused, I thought the world went mad when a massacre against the Jewish state and Israelis (both Jewish and Arab but the majority were Jews and they were targeted for being Jewish) somehow made them hateful against Jewish people, even the diaspora, I was also very confused when the "feminists" of the world even the radical feminists remained silent on the mass rape used as a weapon against Israeli women or tried to deny and minimize it. This is gonna sound dramatic but I haven't been the same person ever since because I lost my trust in people, I don't trust anyone who has no sympathy for others based on their ethnicity and nationality.

and when I went to tumblr I saw that you were also sharing content from antisemites, although you tried to distance yourself from it, sure Hamas did kill babies and rape women, but it wasn't as bad as the media is making it out to be, as if there is a number of raped women and murdered babies that needs to be met before we recognize this as a genocidal act by Hamas? I tried to read what you shared and honestly the people you tried to refute (badly) made more sense to me.

I spent a huge portion of my time watching content about the conflict even when I am working, reading about it, talking to my friend about it, I sought out another friend of mine who is retired professor who has visited Israel multiple times to learn from her, I listened to Jewish people and Israelis and also to Palestinians, I shared articles from Palestinian authors and a Muslim woman about the war, I am reading a book by Mosab Hassan Yousef, the son of one of Hamas' founders, I didn't listen to the ones who cheered on October 7th which is fair, terrorists and their supporters don't have integrity. so even though you said I "admitted I don't know shit" and I am "willfully ignorant" I am really not, I am not an expert, I wish I could read and learn more than what I am already doing but I work full-time on 5-6 hours of sleep then travel on the weekends to see my girlfriend, so I am sorry I didn't know much about Christian Zionists? I'd rather not run on my mouth over something I don't know much about, it doesn't make all of my other opinions invalid somehow. I've always been the type of person who tries to do at least some research before forming an opinion and being outspoken about it.

you also said I am brainwashed by my country's antisemitism and I am "rebelling" (which is so fucking condescending I am not a child trying to prove a point) but actually I never agreed that the holocaust was good and that Hitler was a hero like the majority of people around me did, even if I had problematic beliefs I would never agree with genocide. it's also interesting that you refer to this rightfully as propaganda but do you know which news channel was funneling this and playing in my house? it was Aljazeera, and you share from them all the time without a hint of scrutiny, of course anything Israel says must be met with scrutiny but anything coming out of Hamas and Qatar is trustworthy even though both are islamofascist that don't allow any freedom of press, very interesting.

so mena, as an Arabic speaker why don't you look into Aljazeera's Arabic websites and articles where they don't sugarcoat the antisemitism for the western audience and share them with your followers? or anything from Hamas' leaders? are you intentionally misleading them or just lazy? not sure which is worse.

I do have sympathy for middle eastern women and that includes Israeli women! Which is why I'll never support an Islamic state, they are the worst for women. There is more going on in the middle east than just western imperialism, not everything is the west's fault and even if it was we should have more accountability and not just overlook terrorism and other problems we have, prophet Mohammad didn't need Zionism or western imperialism to massacre the Jews of Banu Qurayza, which was so horrific I decided to fully become an ex-muslim after reading about it and I was questioning my faith for two years at that time.

You accused me of supporting genocide which is..... wow there is a lot to say about that, but I won't get into it now, you said this isn't in character for me as an "empathetic and intelligent woman" you're right, maybe the genocide accusation against Israel is blood libel and unfounded, because why would I support genocide? have you tried to read anything besides Qatar and Hamas approved propaganda? have you listened to other opinions in good faith without plugging your ears calling them Zionists (as if it's a bad thing to want self-determination and not be a dhimmi anymore) and blocking them?

I don't know where you get the audacity to say that I am ignorant and should do the "decent thing" and shut up, do you have any Jewish loved ones? do you worry about them on a daily basis because of antisemitism and how antisemitic hate crimes have increased to an insane level? I can't go a day without seeing new incidents reported, which you have ignored of course, because the only good Jew to you is a Jewish person who just affirms your beliefs so you can delude yourself into thinking you're a good person, but after that you don't really care, do you think antisemites ask Jewish people if they're Zionists before they harass and assault them? get off your fucking high horse, I don't owe you shit and you have no right to judge me, if anyone should shut up it's you, the rhetoric and the blood libels you share is the same fucking rhetoric inciting the increase in hate crimes, sincerely fuck off :)

[eatommo]

Showgirl [c.f.99] {kd3}

Sixty nine/public sex/pet play

Cw: technically poly!batchxreader, but definitely hunter centric (this time ;)), voyeurism, sex on the marauder, definitely taking liberties on public, oh well, oral sex(both rec), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, cucking? If you squint?, calls reader the ships pet, light pet play, mando’a

It wasn’t rare to be the center of attention when you were on a long haul trip in hyperspace. Shamelessly you’d be passed from bunk to bunk, happily obliging and satisfying each member of the Bad Batch one at a time.

It was rare to get all of them together at once. This time though, Hunter started by kissing you and stripping you in front of the others. At first it started softly, like maybe he just was in need of some affirmation or affection, but soon his tongue was licking at your teeth and the kiss turned starved.

He suckled on your lips, nipping and licking, filthy sweet kisses that made your head spin and nearly forget you had an audience, until you’d hear a crass command from Crosshair keeping you in check, not exploring Hunter’s body with your hands. His heightened senses couldn’t take a lot of teasing, so you treaded lightly, throwing your head back to look at the four boys waiting patiently for their turn with the ships favorite pet.

Hunter guides you to a nearby bunk, keeping the screen drawn open, “Sit on my face mesh’la”. You begin to protest, not sure if you have room to fit in the space in that position, but he pushes his pants down, freeing his achingly hard cock as it throbs and rests against his muscled abdomen, the tanned skin flushed purple at the tip.

Maker, he’s so beautiful, your mouth is watering at the sight alone, shyness melting away at the promise of a good time. You maneuver into the bunk space, finding it surprisingly spacious but still having to bend over slightly to fit, your mouth within a foot of his aching member. You lower your hips closer to his mouth, allowing him to lick a few small teasing stripes.

You hear Tech speak up, “He said to sit.” You huff, sensitive but desperate all the same, and let yourself sit fully upon his mouth. He presses deeper against you, using his tongue lick and tease your swollen clit.

He slaps your ass, the sting mixing delightfully with the pleasure as he teases your entrance with a finger. You bend down further, looking up and making eye contact with Echo, as you place small feather light kisses across the shaft of Hunter’s cock.

He twitches beneath you, always so sensitive, you blow cool air across the trail of saliva and watch as the muscles in his thighs tighten at the sensation. In response, he slowly works two fingers into your heat, targeting the spot which makes your vision white with the precision of a marksman. Distantly you hear hums of approval from your audience as your legs begin to shake, your ears feel hot and you act on primitive instinct sucking the head of Hunter’s cock.

The reality of people watching under such controlling circumstances singing to your need to please, truly taking Hunter down further, working slowly and swallowing around him until your nose is brushing against his balls with each movement.

He strokes your clit in tight expert circle, and you begin to feel the pressure building in your belly. He crooks his fingers into time with the bobbing of your head, and the way his hips start to push off the mattress you know he’s also chasing his release.

You still your movements, and allow his hips to fuck up freely into your mouth, blinking back tears and he nudges the back of your throat with every thrust. You can feel the stutter of his hips, as his mouth stops its ministrations briefly to allow a flow of curses, partially muffled against the heat of your center as he cums filling your mouth with his salty seed and faltering short thrusts.

You swallow, looking up at the room hoping for a satisfied audience and instead you’re greeted with another thick cock inches from your mouth. Wrecker you realize, had stood up from his chair and his patience has expired, he waits for you to part your lips as Hunter begins to tease your clit once again.

[lol-jackles]

Real question that I’d love your expert answer on.

The Winchesters was terribly marketed and from my understanding, that is the role of the producers/showrunner to create the elevator speech and marketing materials for the series, correct?

The way TW was sold to the audience seemed unexciting, unclear and didn’t match up with how the show ended. It’s like they weren’t really sure who the audience was supposed to be so the messages were so general that I don’t think it targeted or resonated with anyone. (My marketing prof always said when you try to target everyone, you appeal to no one.).

Just like the majority of the fandom, the concept was poorly conceived and even more poorly executed.

Regardless—- Now that we know how the prequel turned sequel played out, (1) who would you have targeted the message to, and (2) how would you have described the series to make it make sense to that audience.

I’d love to hear how you would have sold it to get people watch it.

While you are correct that producers/showrunner create elevator pitches, the marketing materials are created by an agency outside the studio. The agency hires Promotion Producers to develop campaign strategies and create promotional materials such as trailers and commercials according to set of specifications. Where those specifications come from can be good questions. Ideally, they are from showrunners, but often are from Senior Producer or from the studios' own marketing team.

So in The Winchesters, the Promotion Producers are given scenes from the show's producers with ideas of the show's message. But the Promotion Producers have to work closely with the studios marketing team and often campaign ideas don't sync up. Think back to Supernatural trailers, half the time they are completely misdirects on the instructions by studio's marketing team because they believe it's more interesting that way.

Promotion Producers know there are 4 major demographics called "the quadrant" and realistically they can only target one, maybe two if they're lucky.

Since Supernatural has "males over 25", WB may have been trying to get the "females under 25" with The Winchesters by going the Buffy-lite vibe while also trying to attract "females over 25" with Jensen Ackles's Dean-the-narrator.

"I’d love to hear how you would have sold it to get people watch it."

Well, for starters, even though it's a John and Mary Winchester story don't call it a John and Mary Winchester story because SPN fans already knows that story. Instead do what they did 18 years ago when they promoted Supernatural as X-Files meet Hardy boys. Focus on the spooky atmosphere and the characters searching for monsters in the sewer. This gets audiences asking why these young people are hunting for things that go bump in the night because why would anybody in their right mind do that? That is the hook. Have John mention that hunting monsters and demons is dangerous and ask why would Mary do it. Hint at her motives. Is it for revenge? Does she belong to a secret society? When she mentioned her father in passing, is she from a line of hunters? Show action shots of the 4 young people fighting monsters and make it look like they're losing. Then have an ending shot of one of them looking bloody, triumphant, and mad.

And don't call it a romance story, Supernatural was never about romance. X Files was never about romance either and fans went nuts over the chemistry between Scully and Mulder. If young John and Mary have chemistry, great, let the fans ship them first and then go for the romance.

[minsarasarahair]

Vesper Noir's art journey is very inspiring. I think he might be the best vtuber to follow if you want to learn or go back to drawing at late age. To have fun in drawing as your new found hobby.

You thought it would be Magni but no LOL Magni's art stream is like an art commission speedpaint or drawing with fellow great artists. He works fast but not helpful if you want to learn or you're starting out. Magni is the best option if you just want to watch someone good in drawing and majority of his fanbase are already good artists. Magni being an inspiration might be helpful but his art stream is definitely not amateur friendly. Yes, he do challenges here and there but I think his target audience are already artists. I find his stream intimidating if you're not like him. Maybe if Magni do a collab stream with Vesper as his art teacher? That will work?

Vesper on the other hand, he analyze and ask questions to his Chat such as "Why the light is here?", "What is a filter?" etc. In other words, you have a perspective of someone who's not expert in art. His art stream gives me a vibe of classmates working together to study something because you don't have teacher to ask for help. He's slow and might be frustrating but that's what it means to be a beginner. Struggling is part of the process. He do experiment with enthusiasm and make mistakes. He has this child wonder that's very important to enjoy making art as hobby. His art stream prove you don't need to practice hard everyday. What's important is to know how or "to think" what you draw. That's probably why he improve fast. He try something new whenever he draw too.

He also do an art review to "break down" his fan arts as a form of his art study so that he can learn something from it. He share his line art as art exercise for his viewers so they can color it. Recently, he said he want to do a short fan arts review every week to appreciate and learn from it. Did I expect him to find drawing as new hobby? No. I watch him because he's a natural storyteller and you can tell that he put storytelling as part of his art sense when he draw. I love it tho.

Here are the vods that show his improvement as artist. He started with MS Paint and using Mouse but now he's learning Clip Studio Paint and his Cintiq.

【 MS Paint 】Crafting Tempus MS paint memes

【 MS Paint 】CRAFTING AN ARTISAN, SINGLE SOURCE, SUSTAINABLY HARVESTED AXEL MEME

【 MS Paint 】Fan-requested Tempus Meme artwork stream!

【 MS Paint 】Fan-requested Tempus Memes: Altare day

【 MS Paint 】Fan-requested Tempus Memes: Axel day

【 Art Stream 】Going from MS paint+mouse to a Cintiq Pro, I AM READY TO LEARN TEACH ME

【 Art Review 】 Vesper Noir, but this time he's beholding your beautiful birthday creations

【 Art Review 】Checking out my birthday gifts! Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!

Membership art streams (Bettel, Flayon, Hakka, Shinri) and more!

Example of #ColorMeVes entries

【 Art Appreciation 】Checking out some beautiful fanart! Don't let me go over 1 hour I need to rest

[yuikomorii]

I wish for all non-Japanese people to stop acting like otome game experts when they know nothing about them to begin with. Main hero has always been an official term in Japan, that’s an official role for a character and it’s always the English or Spanish fandoms that keep denying it not only in Ayato’s case. That’s like saying that all heroines are self-inserts. As you said you can use them as self-insert but that doesn’t erase the fact they’re still their own character with their own confirmed role in the story. The other guys are still important but they’re just not connected to the story or heroine as the main hero is. The creator just has a preference regarding that character and couple, why would this affect the player in any way? And we still wonder why we don’t get a localisation hah.

// FACTS! Japanese fans will always know better than Western ones, because otome games are made for them. The West and Japan have very different mindsets when it comes to certain things, therefore what Japan finds good, can be seen as bad in the West and vice versa. However, I'd rather trust the word of Japanese fans because, after all, otome games are aimed at them, and if they truly dislike something, it means that thing failed; it couldn't meet their expectations or be to their liking, and their liking is considered the most important because they're the ✨target audience✨

Unfortunately, teaching an entire fandom about otoge pop-culture is impossible; nobody is popular or convincing enough to truly open everyone's eyes, but whatever.

Main hero is and will always be an official term. Those are facts, lol.

As for Ayato, he is seen as the main hero by Rejet and Japanese audience, that’s what matters the most. When he was asked if his opinion about Ayato changed before and after the anime, even his VA said “no”, because, according to him, Ayato is a character that can easily be the core of the story (主軸). In the least biased way, that's a true statement, given that he got that main character charisma and energy, plus background.

From my perspective, he got an amazing world building, and whoever thought of that is a very clever person (or people, if there were more)! I like how everything makes sense, it's a bit weird how they only released YB manga recently but at least it solved a "mystery".

We can see in the last YB chapter how he became addicted after eating that fig. "Addicted" is literally the name of his character song, and its lyrics perfectly describe the entire fig situation (translation by silvermoon249).

Last but not least, I have such a love-hate relationship with this official short story (translation by Koiiro) because 1. that’s the best confession Yui has ever made and 2. it sounds kinda creepy?? The atmosphere was quite disturbing; Yui didn't even seem embarrassed, which is unusual for her, and even Ayato found the situation strange. It has a strong "everything is always connected" vibe to it…?

Welp guys, don't be sad if you haven't found your soulmate yet. Ayato had to wait hundreds of years for it. xD

I truthfully agree with the part about localization. It's not like DL doesn't get one due to the themes presented there, because there are localized otome games with far darker themes, but I feel like the English fandom really doesn't deserve one (I'm not referring to everyone, there are some genuinely kind and calm people). They complain about everything Rejet releases, they are petty and too salty, they abet, and they have no idea how the otome game world works... To summarize, they aren’t able to appreciate anything. As a result, DL should be limited to the Japanese audience, who are far more understanding and supportive.

[loki-zen]

with regard to some recent discourse:

there is a skill that in LIS gets called information synthesis.

this is the skill required to condense and summarise sources in a readable and minimally lossy way.

the skill of writing in a way people actually want to read comes on top of this; perfect infosynth at best gets you ‘very readable due to its simple digression-free format and well-labelled sections which are presented in a logical order’.

infosynth does/can contain knowing your precise target audience - maybe even the precise question they want to answer - and tailoring your summary appropriately.

infosynth is pretty obviously an important skill in today’s world! there is ever more information and even experts cannot keep up with it all. Doctors increasingly rely on medical librarians to read and summarise the latest research for them, because even within a very narrow sub-specialty it is simply not viable for them to keep up with it all themselves.

And people are increasingly producing and reading infosynth-type products in other fields. However, few people get any sort of explicit training in information synthesis.

We don’t really have the notion of a class of expert/professional whose role centres around information synthesis. (the General We that accepts that most ppl think librarians just shuffle books all day.) like there are a few field-specific Types of This Guy but they’re all off doing their own things and not considering themselves Information Synthesists who might share a skill set and a professional knowledge sharing community with other Information Synthesists.

and that’s a shame. people are always reinventing things from the LIS world and failing to like draw on the LIS world’s established work about how to do them out of ignorance that we are here and do those things. sad

[pixelmate-exhibition-co-ltd]

Elevate Your Presence: Horti Asia 2025 Stand Builders

Transform your exhibition experience at Horti Asia 2025 with our expert stand builders. Make a statement with your booth.

Key Highlights

Experienced professionals: You gain from years of experience in the exhibition industry.

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Proven success stories: Check out our work and read what happy clients say.

Introduction

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Why Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. is Your Go-To for Horti Asia 2025

In the competitive world of trade shows, a good exhibition stand is much more than a simple display. It is an experience. This is your chance to engage with attendees and show your brand story. A great stand will help you make a lasting impression.

At Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd., we know how important unique booths and trade show booth designs are. We're not just here to build stands; we are your partners in creating memorable brand experiences at Horti Asia 2025.

Unveiling the Expertise of Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. Team

With many years of experience, Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. has a team of professionals who love turning creative ideas into reality. Our experts know the trade show world well. They make sure your stand fits your marketing goals perfectly.

This devoted team has exhibition booth designers who create beautiful and useful spaces. We also have project managers who handle the entire process. This ensures a smooth and easy experience for you.

When you pick Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd., you gain from the knowledge and skills of an agency that wants to help you succeed at trade shows.

Tailoring Stand Designs to Reflect Your Brand’s Essence

At Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd., we think your exhibition stand should truly show your brand. Our way of making custom exhibition stands starts with detailed talks to learn about your brand message, target audience, and goals for Horti Asia 2025.

After that, we turn this knowledge into one-of-a-kind and creative stand designs. These designs will catch people’s eyes and clearly share your brand story. From bold graphics to interactive features and smart layouts, we pay attention to every detail. This ensures your stand stands out and connects well with attendees.

The Importance of a Standout Exhibition Stand at Horti Asia 2025

The horticultural industry is growing fast, and Horti Asia 2025 is a great chance to meet important people and potential buyers from around the world. However, in a busy exhibition hall full of competitors, it is crucial to catch and hold attention.

A great exhibition stand can help showcase your brand's image. It attracts visitors and gives them a place to connect with your team and what you offer.

The Role of Design in Making an Impactful Presence

In a competitive world, first impressions are important. Your trade show booth design is usually the first thing attendees see from your brand. A good design is not just about looks. It also needs to work well and understand how visitors move around.

Eye-catching visuals, smart lighting, and a welcoming layout are key to making an experience that attracts attendees to your expo stand. By including your brand elements and main messages in the design, you can create a strong and unforgettable brand experience.

How a Custom Stand Builds Your Brand Experience

Your stand is more than just a trade show booth rental exhibit rental. It reflects your brand as an exhibition stand builder. It’s a chance to show your personality, values, and your focus on new ideas. A custom-designed stand helps you make a space that fits your brand message and connects with the people you want to reach.

By using space wisely, adding interactive displays, and using interesting technology, you can give visitors a great expo experience. This good feeling will leave a mark, helping to turn interested people into loyal fans even after the event ends.

The Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. Process: From Concept to Completion

To create amazing and effective exhibition stands, you need a clear plan. At Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd., we use a step-by-step process. This makes sure you understand everything and can work with us at each stage. From the first design idea to the last setup at Horti Asia 2025, our careful project management helps bring your vision to life on time and within budget.

Initial Consultation and Design Brief Understanding

Our process starts with a detailed meeting. We listen carefully to understand your needs and goals for Horti Asia 2025. This meeting helps us gather important information about your brand, the audience you want to reach, and what you hope to achieve from the event.

Next, our design team uses this information to create a clear design brief. This brief will include the proposed concept, layout, materials, and main features of your exhibition stand. This teamwork helps us stay aligned from the beginning, building a partnership based on open communication and a shared vision.

Design Development and Client Approval Cycle

Once we understand your vision, our great designers will start creating custom ideas for new clients' stands. We want to give you creative choices, so we show you several design proposals to think about. Each proposal follows your brand rules and focuses on your important messages. We work to make sure it looks great and works well.

We will help you understand each idea by explaining why we made certain design choices. We want your feedback during this time. This helps us adjust the chosen design until it matches what you expect.

Seamless Execution and On-Site Support

With the final design approved, our team of professionals gets to work. We pay close attention to detail. This way, every part of your stand is done to the highest standard. We handle everything from the graphics to the logistics and the setup at the event.

You can relax and put your energy into what matters most: connecting with attendees at Horti Asia 2025. Our dedicated on-site support team will be there throughout the event. They will handle any last-minute changes or issues that come up. This helps make sure you have a smooth and stress-free experience.

Success Stories: Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. Achievements in the Exhibition Space

At Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd., we are proud of our history of creating great exhibition stands. We go beyond what our clients expect. We have assisted businesses in different industries to leave a lasting impression at trade shows all over the world. Our portfolio shows our dedication to quality and new ideas.

Highlighting Our Portfolio of Innovative Stand Designs

We invite you to check out our portfolio. You will see a range of exhibition booth design projects that show our creativity and focus on details. We offer both modern designs and unique thematic stands. Our innovative solutions have helped clients get noticed and reach their trade show goals.

Every project in our portfolio proves how well our team turns brand identity and marketing goals into attractive and useful exhibition spaces. We think sharing our past successes gives potential clients a good look at our promise to provide great results.

Testimonials from Satisfied Clients

Don't just believe us - listen to what our happy clients say about working with Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd.. We think that their reviews show how we care about our clients and how we aim to give great results. Our clients often compliment us on our professionalism, creativity, and careful attention to detail. This helps show we are a reliable partner in the exhibition industry. We love building relationships with our clients and always try to go beyond what they expect.

Conclusion

Elevate your presence at Horti Asia 2025 with Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. Our skilled team is good at creating stand designs that show your brand’s true spirit. We want to make sure you have a memorable experience at the exhibition.

From the start to the finish, we work hard to grow your brand with new stand ideas. We have a list of past successes and happy clients. Pixelmate is known in the exhibition world.

Plan now and work with us early. Together, we can create a special stand that shows your brand’s values and goals. See how great design can make a difference. Start your path to an amazing exhibition presence today.

Frequently Asked Questions

What makes Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. different from other stand builders in Thailand?

As a top exhibition stand design company, we mix beautiful designs with global experience and local know-how. Our strong project management and wide network of local suppliers help us create the best exhibition stand that fits your needs.

How early should I start planning my exhibition stand for Horti Asia 2025?

Start talking as soon as you can! We suggest you begin discussions at least 6 to 8 months before the event. This gives you enough time for good project management. It helps make sure the entire process is easy and relaxed, especially if you join often.

Can Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. help with logistics and setup at Horti Asia 2025?

We offer full logistics support for you. This includes shipping, installation, dismantling, and supervising on-site. You focus on the expo, and we will take care of your stand from delivery to when you leave.

What are the latest trends in exhibition stand design?

Trade show booth design trends change all the time. Right now, brands are focusing on using new technology, eco-friendly materials, and exciting experiences. This shift is changing how they create their trade show booths.

How does Pixelmate Exhibition Co., Ltd. ensure the stand reflects my brand’s values and objectives?

As an exhibition booth builder, we focus on knowing your brand message. We work closely with you and hold in-depth talks. This way, we make sure your booth matches your goals and shares your brand values clearly with your audience.

[digitalshout1]

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