#the new tablet is coming along great!
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(spin-off story, for now)
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#lets see how far i go in thia new wip lol#mary-lou#artemis#webcomic#the new tablet is coming along great!#also my tendonitis is better#still got joint pain on my hands but Oh Well#check the reblog to my main for context. and spoilers
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Prison-tech company bribed jails to ban in-person visits
I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!
Beware of geeks bearing gifts. When prison-tech companies started offering "free" tablets to America's vast army of prisoners, it set off alarm-bells for prison reform advocates – but not for the law-enforcement agencies that manage the great American carceral enterprise.
The pitch from these prison-tech companies was that they could cut the costs of locking people up while making jails and prisons safer. Hell, they'd even make life better for prisoners. And they'd do it for free!
These prison tablets would give every prisoner their own phone and their own video-conferencing terminal. They'd supply email, of course, and all the world's books, music, movies and games. Prisoners could maintain connections with the outside world, from family to continuing education. Sounds too good to be true, huh?
Here's the catch: all of these services are blisteringly expensive. Prisoners are accustomed to being gouged on phone calls – for years, prisons have done deals with private telcos that charge a fortune for prisoners' calls and split the take with prison administrators – but even by those standards, the calls you make on a tablet are still a ripoff.
Sure, there are some prisoners for whom money is no object – wealthy people who screwed up so bad they can't get bail and are stewing in a county lockup, along with the odd rich murderer or scammer serving a long bid. But most prisoners are poor. They start poor – the cops are more likely to arrest poor people than rich people, even for the same crime, and the poorer you are, the more likely you are to get convicted or be suckered into a plea bargain with a long sentence. State legislatures are easy to whip up into a froth about minimum sentences for shoplifters who steal $7 deodorant sticks, but they are wildly indifferent to the store owner's rampant wage-theft. Wage theft is by far the most costly form of property crime in America and it is almost entirely ignored:
https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/jun/15/wage-theft-us-workers-employees
So America's prisons are heaving with its poorest citizens, and they're certainly not getting any richer while they're inside. While many prisoners hold jobs – prisoners produce $2b/year in goods and $9b/year in services – the average prison wage is $0.52/hour:
https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html
(In six states, prisoners get nothing; North Carolina law bans paying prisoners more than $1/day, the 13th Amendment to the US Constitution explicitly permits slavery – forced labor without pay – for prisoners.)
Likewise, prisoners' families are poor. They start poor – being poor is a strong correlate of being an American prisoner – and then one of their breadwinners is put behind bars, taking their income with them. The family savings go to paying a lawyer.
Prison-tech is a bet that these poor people, locked up and paid $1/day or less; or their families, deprived of an earner and in debt to a lawyer; will somehow come up with cash to pay $13 for a 20-minute phone call, $3 for an MP3, or double the Kindle price for an ebook.
How do you convince a prisoner earning $0.52/hour to spend $13 on a phone-call?
Well, for Securus and Viapath (AKA Global Tellink) – a pair of private equity backed prison monopolists who have swallowed nearly all their competitors – the answer was simple: they bribed prison officials to get rid of the prison phones.
Not just the phones, either: a pair of Michigan suits brought by the Civil Rights Corps accuse sheriffs and the state Department of Corrections of ending in-person visits in exchange for kickbacks from the money that prisoners' families would pay once the only way to reach their loved ones was over the "free" tablets:
https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2024/03/jails-banned-family-visits-to-make-more-money-on-video-calls-lawsuits-claim/
These two cases are just the tip of the iceberg; Civil Rights Corps says there are hundreds of jails and prisons where Securus and Viapath have struck similar corrupt bargains:
https://civilrightscorps.org/case/port-huron-michigan-right2hug/
And it's not just visits and calls. Prison-tech companies have convinced jails and prisons to eliminate mail and parcels. Letters to prisoners are scanned and delivered their tablets, at a price. Prisoners – and their loved ones – have to buy virtual "postage stamps" and pay one stamp per "page" of email. Scanned letters (say, hand-drawn birthday cards from your kids) cost several stamps:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve
Prisons and jails have also been convinced to eliminate their libraries and continuing education programs, and to get rid of TVs and recreational equipment. That way, prisoners will pay vastly inflated prices for streaming videos and DRM-locked music.
The icing on the cake? If the prison changes providers, all that data is wiped out – a prisoner serving decades of time will lose their music library, their kids' letters, the books they love. They can get some of that back – by working for $1/day – but the personal stuff? It's just gone.
Readers of my novels know all this. A prison-tech scam just like the one described in the Civil Rights Corps suits is at the center of my latest novel The Bezzle:
https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle
Prison-tech has haunted me for years. At first, it was just the normal horror anyone with a shred of empathy would feel for prisoners and their families, captive customers for sadistic "businesses" that have figured out how to get the poorest, most desperate people in the country to make them billions. In the novel, I call prison-tech "a machine":
a million-armed robot whose every limb was tipped with a needle that sank itself into a different place on prisoners and their families and drew out a few more cc’s of blood.
But over time, that furious empathy gave way to dread. Prisoners are at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve. They endure the technological torments that haven't yet been sanded down on their bodies, normalized enough to impose them on people with a little more privilege and agency. I'm a long way up the curve from prisoners, but while the shitty technology curve may grind slow, it grinds fine:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware
The future isn't here, it's just not evenly distributed. Prisoners are the ultimate early adopters of the technology that the richest, most powerful, most sadistic people in the country's corporate board-rooms would like to force us all to use.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch
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#pluralistic#prison#prison-tech#marty hench#the bezzle#securus#captive audiences#St Clair County#human rights#prisoners rights#viapath#gtl#global tellink#Genesee County#michigan#guillotine watch#carceral state#corruption
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Dating You For A Bet [Part 4]
word count: 3420 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.
pairing: university AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader
genre: angst, fluff
warnings: swearing, use of alcohol
[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]
By the time Christmas was over, Issei and you were texting each other regularly again. It started with you sending him a picture of a holiday snack he told you about over coffee, and you wanted to confirm that it was the right one. Later that day, he let you know that the photo made him crave the snack, too, so he had gone out to get a bag himself. An hour or so later you asked him if he’d seen the latest cheesy holiday flick on Netflix, he said No but followed it up by saying that it would be rectified immediately and you, naturally, watched it at the same time, texting each other updates and reactions about the plot. There was no doubt that you missed him, and you felt a weird mixture of small happiness and caution whenever your phone buzzed with a new text, but whichever way you looked at it, you couldn’t forget the fact that the first half of your relationship had all been pretend. You kept reminding yourself over and over as you laughed about his silly comments on the movie and when you replayed a voice message he sent imitating an especially ridiculous line.
The day before New Year’s then, your heavily suppressed need to be in his arms again was put to the test. The cold and gloom of the weather coupled with the immense amount of Christmas rom-coms you’d consumed had you reach for the phone more times than you cared to admit. But instead of giving in to the urge, you tossed the devilishly tempting device onto your roommate’s bed and buried yourself deep into a blanket, with your comfort show playing on your tablet.
“Hey, Y/n.”, your roommate came in, freshly showered after a workout at the gym. Yawning from a lazy day spent in bed, you watched her open her wardrobe and pick through her clothes.
“Date tonight?”, you asked.
“Hmm, kinda. My boyfriend and I are gonna go out drinking with some friends and stay up til midnight.”
“That’s nice.”, you said flatly.
“Wanna come?”, she asked, holding a skin-tight little black dress up to her towel-wrapped body and assessing her image in the spotty mirror.
You cocked an incredulous brow in your blanket burrito.
“Do I look like I wanna party?”
Your roommate met your eyes in the reflection and snorted.
“I mean, we still have two hours until we’re supposed to meet. That’s plenty of time to get ready.”, she gave you an encouraging smile, “Come on, I’d love for you to come.”
“Stop tugging at your skirt, you look great. - There he is. Hey handsome!”
Your roommate somehow lengthened her stride despite the high heels and restricting dress, jogging into the arms of the young man waiting in front of the restaurant. He had a stocky build and was half a head shorter than her, especially noticeable in those shoes. You recognized him as the varsity Volleyball team’s libero and offered a small wave hello, which went unnoticed because they were very busy greeting each other. To be honest, the way he looked into his girlfriend’s eyes after she kissed him made you believe in true love and want to throw up at the same time.
Once inside, you were all welcomed warmly by a large group of people sitting around a long table, every bit of which was covered with platters of food. The smell of steak, seared vegetables, and warming soups wafted through the air and made your mouth water. A few more seats were unoccupied but filled up in the next half an hour as more friends joined. You had never talked to or even met any of these people and for the most part, stuck to looking at your dinner and nodding politely along to surrounding conversations.
“Why are you always late?”, the boyfriend laughed towards the door while he dug into a pile of meat. You turned slightly, mildly curious. The slice of cheesy omelet almost fell from your chopsticks when none other than Issei greeted the table, giving your roommate’s boyfriend a half hug. He did a double-take when he saw you. “Y/n. What - hi, how are you?”
Draping his jacket over the back of the chair, he sat down on the remaining space next to you. His leg began to bounce.
Throughout the evening, with the help of your roommate, people also turned their attention to you and even asked questions about what it was like to live and study in Japan, about your home country and holiday traditions.
“Look at you making all those new friends.”, Issei said under his breath, smiling at his plate, but obviously directing the comment at you.
“Well yeah, I’m amazing.”, you said and dramatically pretended to flip your hair.
He smiled even wider and looked at you out of the corner of his eye.
“Yeah. You are.”, he lowered his voice even more until it was barely more than a soft low hum, “You look beautiful, by the way. The outfit suits you.”
You pretended to admire the holiday decoration of the room so he wouldn’t see the heat rising in your face.
You were luckily spared any need for a reply when someone to your right said into the group, “What do you say, should we get the party started?”
General cheers erupted around the table, and a waiter was asked for a round of shots.
You raised the glass to your nose for an experimental sniff.
“It’s sake.”, your roommate explained.
“Oh, you might wanna ask for something else.”, Issei advised.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think you’ll like sake.”
You cocked a challenging brow.
“Because… you don’t drink a lot, and you like your alcohol sweet.”, he added tentatively.
Along with the rest of the table, you toasted to the upcoming new year, holding eye contact with Issei as you demonstratively downed the glass.
“Alright, be my guest.”, he shrugged and drank his own.
You shuddered next to him, eye twitching and mouth pursing.
His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as he leaned slightly forward on the table to hide your making faces of disgust behind his broad back.
When you resurfaced, he asked smugly, “How was it?”
“Best thing ever.”, you pressed out and turned once more in your chair for another round of coughing.
“I’m so glad you like it!”, your roommate exclaimed and took bottles worth of sake from a new tray the waiter was holding out for her, “Have another one!”
“Sure.”, you croaked, discreetly stepping on Issei’s foot so that he would stop cackling.
He was already done with his second glass, while you still tried to hype yourself up for what you could only describe as rubbing alcohol with notes of hellfire and a hint of sandpaper.
You turned the glass in your fingers and then noticed how Issei rested his arms on the table as if more engrossed in everyone’s conversations. Behind his elbow, out of view for everyone else, he made a small grabbing motion while he talked with your roommate’s boyfriend. A little puzzled, you carefully pushed your sake into his waiting fingers. It must have been the right move because he set down his own emptied glass in front of you and now smoothly drank yours. As the night went on, glass after glass was exchanged this way and Issei’s cheeks soon turned rosy.
There was still some time left until midnight when Issei stumbled out of the bathroom and nearly caused a collision with a waiter.
“Sor- sorr- ssory.”, he slurred, looking a little past the waiter, probably because he saw two of them and chose the wrong one to address.
Being the only sober person at the table and feeling very guilty for him having had twice as many drinks as everyone else, you volunteered to take him back to the dorm safely. Issei stood still-ish as you wrapped his scarf around his neck and helped him into his jacket but tumbled immediately as soon as you began ushering him towards the exit. He slung his arm around your shoulder, and you half-hoisted him into a waiting taxi in front of the restaurant. You gave the driver the address of the university and opened your handbag to fish out the small bottle of water you had prudently packed. While you were still engrossed in your task in the darkness of the backseat, Issei mumbled, “Lissen, you’re very preddy an’ I’m sure you’re suber nice but… I’m not over my ex an’- an’ it wouldn’t be fair to you. M sorry. I jus’ can’t.”
You stiffened slightly, then held out the water to him without a word.
By the time you arrived at the campus, Issei had dozed off and the side of his face was smooshed against the window.
With the help of the kind driver, you got him out of the car and made your way to his dorm. The campus was quiet. Most students were probably in the city, celebrating, anticipating.
The water and cold night air seemed to have sobered Issei up a little, and he managed to swerve around a bollard rudely put in his way. Progress was arduous, and the freshly fallen layer of snow crunched under his sneakers. You really wore the wrong shoes for this. Your heels slipped on the icy ground, making you cling to Issei as much as he did to you for stability.
“Let’s sit for a moment.”, you suggested about halfway to the dorm. Issei was heavy as a dead weight, and you could feel sweat forming under your hat from lugging him along. Using the hem of your coat, you brushed snow off a wooden bench before you both plopped down. A few stray snowflakes rushed along the ground, picked up by a little breeze that swept over the empty courtyard. You offered him another gulp of water, which he readily accepted.
“Thank you.”, he whispered, almost too quiet to hear, then cleared his throat and repeated it a bit louder.
“No problem.”, you said and focused on the ground where you nudged some snow around with the tip of your shoe.
Issei groaned, pushing both his hands onto the bench, and swayed slightly back and forth.
“How are you feeling?”
“Never better.”, he mumbled, keeping his head low and eyes closed.
“We’re almost there. Not much further.”
“I never should have taken that bet.”, he said quietly.
“What?”
“I never should have even talked to these guys.”
He was now staring at his knees and his voice caught when he continued, “I can’t believe I ruined it. I should have… I should have come up to you on our first day and I should have kissed you.”
You didn’t know what to do, so you tried to joke, “Well, I would have probably used my pepper spray and reported you to the dean.”
Issei gave a toneless laugh.
“Look, I…” You hesitated. “I forgive you. It’s okay. - And hey, you’ll meet someone new someday and definitely not make that same mistake again.” After a moment's waver, you put your hand on his shoulder, squeezing for comfort.
“I don’t want - shit-”, he broke off and turned his head away, then coughed and tried to take a deep breath, but his back stiffened and he coughed again. You realized he started sobbing.
“Issei…”
“Don’t-“, he began.
“Don’t… what?”, you asked softly, taking your hand off his shoulder in case he meant you should stop touching him.
He turned to you, eyes drowning in tears, “I’m so sorry. But don’t … don’t tell me I’ll find someone else.”
“But…”
“No! I don’t want anyone else! God, y/n, I love you so much. I can’t just…”, he hiccuped, “You’re everything I want. You’re all I can think about. I understand that you want to move on. And you deserve the world.” His large hands, still cold from the bench, came up to ever so gently cup your face, “You can hate me but… don’t tell me I’ll ever get over you. I won’t.”
With that, he dropped his hands and rested his forehead on your shoulder as the tears kept falling and you patted his head to soothe him through a new wave of sobs.
The inky black sky lit up with bright lights. Crackling, whistling, and popping of the New Year’s fireworks almost completely swallowed your reply. “I can’t hate you.”
It took a few tries for Issei to slot the key into the front door lock of his building but eventually, you managed to help him up the stairs and into his room. The burnt plant still sat on the window sill and you spotted one of the plushies you had returned to him stuffed halfway under his pillow when he flopped face down onto his bed. You took off his jacket and scarf and made him drink the last bit of water left in the bottle before covering him with his blanket.
“Thank you.”, he said and yawned widely.
“No problem.” Your eyes met and for a fraction of a heartbeat you wanted to lean down to kiss him goodnight but instead, you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.
“Are you gonna stay?”, he asked hopefully.
“No, I shouldn’t. I’m gonna head back to my room.”
When you got up he held onto the tips of your fingers. It wouldn’t haven’t taken any effort at all to pull yourself free but you didn’t want him to let go.
“Issei, I have to go.”
He thought about it, studying your face in the dim light of the occasional distant rocket. Then he sat up and pushed the blanket off.
“I should walk you.”
“What? You- no. Lay back down.”
“But it’s dark and creepy. You hate dark and creepy.”
“I’ll be fine.”, you couldn’t help but smile when you put your hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him into his pillow.
“Do you want to call me? I’ll stay on the phone with you until you’re in your room.”
You shook your head and tucked him in again.
“Sorry… I didn’t wanna be pushy about it.”, he muttered into his blanket.
“I’ll text you when I’m there.”
His eyes brightened and he nodded.
As soon as he got your message that you were in your bed, he hugged his phone to his chest and fell asleep.
The New Year started with a hangover for Issei. His head felt like it was about the size and weight of a prized watermelon. He wanted to check his phone for the time but the battery was dead. No wonder, since he found it underneath him in bed instead of charging on his nightstand. He sat up and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to piece together what happened the night before. Deciding that the memories would come back to him eventually, he plugged in his phone and went to take a shower in the meantime, using a hand on the wall to steady himself. The hot water brought back a few bits and pieces, flashes of you sitting in a restaurant next to him laughing, you murmuring a pouty thank you when he took the sake off your hands, him sobbing on some bench. When that last one started to return in vivid detail, he shook his head and shut off the water. He cleared his throat and continued with his morning routine, hoping that the sobbing was nothing but an overly dramatized version of whatever stoically shed manly tears he’d actually produced.
With the groan of an old man, Issei sat back down on his bed a few minutes later, while he started up his phone again. A couple of messages from his friends waited in the group chats, tags on social media, a video clip from his sister and her husband, and a voicemail from his parents wishing him a happy new year. But all of that was ignored when he saw a little number next to your name in the chat.
One was from a notification about a deleted message somewhere around 2 a.m., the other was just sent 10 minutes ago.
“We should talk about last night. I’m having breakfast rn. When you’re up, come find me.”
He only stumbled once on his way to the closet where he grabbed random sweats and a hoodie and when he shuffled back into his bathroom slippers - the first shoes he saw - he ran down the corridor and out of the building.
You were lost in thought, stirring your mostly soggy cereal with a long spoon and absently tapping around on your phone, wondering if he was still asleep. The murmured practice of your small prepared speech was cut short, however, because the doors to the cafeteria flew open and a very disheveled Issei looked around. It only took a moment to spot you in the almost empty hall and he hurried over.
“Good morning.”, you said, your heart softened as you noticed a cowlick just above his ear, “Happy New Year.”
“Yea. That. Good New Year to you. You wanted to talk?”
“Okay, straight to the point.” You pushed your breakfast tray away from you so you had space to nervously knead your hands on the table.
But before you could say anything he started rambling, “I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday, I didn’t mean to lay all that on you. If you wanna tell me that we can’t even be friend-adjacent anymore I might as well change schools. So -“
“Firstly, I’m glad we’re not overreacting here.”
“Right.”, he breathed out and sat down across from you.
“Alright, I’m not gonna drag this out. I still have feelings for you and while it will take a bit for me to trust you again I’d like to give it another go. - If you’re up for it.”
Issei blinked in shock. You used the opportunity to elaborate a little on the terms you had laid out last night in bed while you were staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied with overthinking to consider sleep.
“We can get to know each other again and see where it takes us. A fresh start.”, you looked at him, waiting. He still gaped at you. “This is the part where you would answer.”, you said patiently.
“Yes!”, he called, the echo of which bounced off the walls and had the few other students and cafeteria staff turn their heads in his direction. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Ahem. That sounds … uhm. Good.”
“Good?”
“I said what I said.”
You smiled and nodded.
“Okay. Let’s start with a coffee.”
“Coming right up.”
And he was already jogging to the beverage station.
You watched as he placed two steaming cups on a tray and came back over, slowing his steps in thought, then speeding up again with new determination.
He came to a halt next to the table.
“Hey, is this seat taken?”
“What?”
“This chair.”, Issei nodded to the empty spot, “Are you expecting anyone?”
“What are you doing?”
“Well, you said, you’d have to get to know me again so… Hi, I’m Issei and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are. Would it be okay if I joined you?”
You frowned with amused disbelief.
“If I say No, do I still get that coffee?”
“Maybe?”
“Fine… just sit down.”, you chuckled.
“Thank you.”
He took his seat and put the mug down in front of you, excitedly.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Y/n.”
“That’s gorgeous. Very fitting.”
“Uh huh.”, you grinned but decided to play along, “I gotta warn you, I just got out of a relationship.”
He wrapped his hands around his coffee. “Oh yeah? Tell me about the guy.”
You sighed. “Are we really doing this?”
“Hm hm.”
“To be honest, he was kinda a jerk. Started off great but then I found out he was just using me.”
“Bastard.”
“Yeah, you can say that again.”
“Well in the name of full disclosure, I have to confess something, too. I just got dumped by the love of my life and you remind me of her.”
“So I’m your rebound.”
“Yes.” He took a sip of coffee.
“Wow, you suck at this.”
“Oh, just you wait til you find out about all the other things I suck at. The list is pretty long. We can talk about all of them on our first date, x/n.”
“It’s y/n.”
“Right, sorry.”
You both laughed.
a/n: thank you so much to everyone who was invested in this story. This was truly another passion project and I hope you enjoyed it until the end 🌟
taglist: @grassbutneo @samoankpoper21 @reikashe @jasminelee324 @remiratboi @ilovemymomscooking @hashxu @animechick555 @appepel @aldebrana @the-dreaming-me @screamin-abt-haikyuu @dira333 @garouaddict @gojoscloset @multi-fandom-fanfic
[masterlist]
#matsukawa x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#chubby reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#hq fluff#haikyuu x curvy reader#matsukawa issei x reader#matsukawa angst#matsukawa fluff#matsukawa x you#hq matsukawa#matsukawa x reader#mattsun x chubby reader#mattsun angst#mattsun x reader#hq angst#haikyuu angst
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As Fate Would Have It | DILF!Anakin Skywalker
Anakin Skywalker gets a new assistant, who also happens to be his favorite OnlyFans performer.
◂ previous ▸ chapter two
rating: explicit | pairing: anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 3.7k | read on ao3
warnings: modern!au, undisclosed age gap, SMUT [use of toys (dildo and fleshlight), mutual masturbation, squirting, watching of pornography]
After midnight is Anakin’s favorite time of the day. His kids have been asleep since 8:30 pm— their weekday curfew— and he’s finally stopped working on the project he brought home from work. It kept him from watching 101 Dalmatians with Luke and Leia but “it needed to be done.”
He completed it well after the twins went to sleep, his neck was aching, and he needed to unwind. Now, he’s settled on the left side of his king bed, back propped against the headboard and his tablet waiting for him on the nightstand. He’s been thinking about this all day. Ever since he got the notification at 1:48 p.m. that HoneySuckle uploaded a new video.
While he was at work. On a very busy day, he might add. As much as he wanted to get away to watch it immediately, he couldn’t. But now he has uninterrupted time to enjoy himself and the woman he’s about to watch.
Anakin watches HoneySuckle exclusively. For over three years now, he has been subscribed to her page for $7.99 a month, which is an absolute disgrace to the quality of content she puts out. That’s why he tips her at least $200 for each video. It’s a number that hardly means a thing to Anakin. But to HoneySuckle, it is everything. It’s a cushion for incidentals. For the flat tire on her Mini Cooper. The vet bill for her orange tabby, Panini. She has expressed her thanks to him in their private messages, but it never seems to be enough.
Their casual conversations are never enough.
It comes as a great surprise to Anakin to see that her newest video is dedicated to him. Him— Anakin Skywalker AKA skyguy81. AKA HoneySuckle’s biggest fan and number one supporter.
Squirting for Sky 🖤
He’s never clicked on anything faster in his life. The edges of his brain are beginning to fog. The mere thought of Honey getting off to the thought of him makes goosebumps prickle along his skin and his cock begin to swell. But then he sees what she’s wearing. Or, not wearing for that matter. Usually, she’ll begin videos with a full set on. Whether it’s a lacy bra and panties, a teddy, or a babydoll, teasingly taking off her lingerie is part of her brand.
Not in this video, though. In this new 23 minute video, she is wearing a black garter and thong with roses embroidered in the mesh along her hip bones. Sheer black stockings are pulled up to her thighs and as she spreads her legs— dear God— Anakin sees that her panties are crotchless.
Every video is expertly angled so only the bottom half of her face is on camera. She’s mentioned to Anakin in the past that this is not her full time job and therefore some anonymity is important. He doesn’t need to see her whole face to know she is beautiful.
“I bought this just for you,” Honey says directly to Anakin. “You said you liked black. I hope you like this.” She goes to grab the vibrator next to the pink dildo on her bed.
“I love it,” Anakin mumbles. Running her hand over one of her bare breasts, she turns on the vibrator. The familiar hum of the toy reminds Anakin to put on his headphones. Just in case.
Now with that taken care of, Anakin can begin taking care of himself. It doesn’t take long for the guy to get hard when he’s watching Honey. Hell, he can just think about her and he’ll be horny. The melodic cadence to her voice, the angelic sounds she makes when she cums, the lustful desire to bury himself in her cunt. She is the only woman he has desired since his wife and he doesn’t even know her name. But he knows the curves of her body as if he’s felt them with his own two hands. God, how he wishes he could touch her, kiss her, pleasure her.
It’s pathetic. He is pathetic for wanting the impossible. Anakin Skywalker is a smart man. A genius in many regards. Yet he’s delusional enough to think her messages might mean something. That this video dedicated to him means something.
Of course, it doesn’t. Everything about his conversations with Honey is transactional. It’s part of her job. That’s it. Nothing more. You’re not special.
But fuck, does it make his cock hard thinking this is all for him. Well, this is for him. The title of the video says so. With her legs spread nice and wide, Anakin can see how wet she has become from the vibrator on her clit.
Stiff and dribbling precum on his belly, Anakin wraps his long fingers around his equally long shaft. He swipes his palm over the tip to lubricate the rest of his dick. Honey has now turned off the vibrator and grabs the dildo. Despite its playful color, it’s a formidable size. A similar 7 inches to Anakin’s cock, she opens her mouth and the tip disappears. Then a little bit more… and a little more… until she’s gagging. She pulls it out of her mouth with a loud gasp. Messy strings of saliva fall on her chin and chest.
“Fuck,” she breathes. “I love choking on your cock. Feeling it so deep in my throat until I can’t breathe.”
This sends a jolt through Anakin’s whole body. His cock lurches in his hand and he knows all too well that his hand will simply not suffice tonight. He pauses Honey’s video and reluctantly gets off of bed to retrieve his Fleshlight from his hidden stash in the closet. Usually, his hand does just fine. He’s used to it by now. Being a single dad in his early forties and the CEO of his own company, he doesn’t have time to go on dates. He has one woman on his rolodex of hookup numbers and even then, he doesn’t contact her often. Usually it’s her who needs him. He prefers it that way, anyway.
Anakin returns to his bed with the barely used Fleshlight in hand and immediately resumes the video. Honey continues to give the dildo a blowjob, making Anakin ache for it to be his cock in her mouth. He can only imagine how warm it is. How he’d make her relax so he can shove his entire length down her throat. How she’d sound choking on his dick and not some pink toy.
Again, she holds it in her mouth until her lungs are screaming for air. Anakin ruts his hips up into his fist. He’s waiting to use the Fleshlight until she puts the toy in her cunt.
Which is right now. She lines the tip of it to her opening, pushing the head in teasingly before removing it and dragging it along her folds.
“Have you been good today? Do you deserve to fuck me?” The seductive nature of Honey’s voice is so familiar to Anakin, yet every time dirty talk drips from her lips, his spine tingles.
“Please, Honey,” Anakin whispers, hovering the opening of the Fleshlight over his cock. “Put it in, baby.”
As if obeying his command, Honey pushes the toy into her hole. At the same time, Anakin lowers his own toy onto himself. The tight Fleshlight sucks in his dick and it damn near has Anakin’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. He’d forgotten what it feels like… how similar yet different it is to real pussy. Fuck, what he would do to have his cock in Honey’s actual cunt. The best he can do is use his overactive imagination.
Honey is thrusting the dildo in and out of her and soft moans fill Anakin’s ears. He yanks the Fleshlight up and down—a lazy way of using it, he knows— but it does the job. “That’s it…” he breathes. His heartbeat is racing impossibly fast, chasing down an orgasm that is going to arrive far too soon. “I fuck you so well, don’t I, Honey?”
“Mm…” she whimpers, pushing the toy deeper and further into her. “Your cock’s so big… fills me up so well. Feels so good!”
“You have no idea how good I could make you feel,” Anakin growls. In his mind she’s on her back, just as she is now. Her knees are pushed up to her ears and Anakin is thrusting into her tight hole to no end. He’s so deep, he can see himself in her stomach. He kisses her, finally tasting her on his own lips. Their tongues are doing a dance, his fingers are on her clit for maximum pleasure. And she’s screaming his name. She can’t believe how good he fucks. How he, at 42 years old, can last as long as he has. “I’m not fucking geriatric,” he’d say. He’d make her cum at least twice before he does, just to prove a point.
Honey then takes the dildo out of her cunt and brings it back up to her mouth. Anakin removes the Fleshlight. She hollows her cheeks around it whilst reaching for the vibrator. She turns it back on and returns it to her clit. Her toes curl at the sensation and a moan is muffled by the cock in her mouth.
“Let me hear you,” Anakin encourages, no matter how silly and pointless it is to do so. “Please, Honey. I love hearing you moan.”
She takes the dildo out of her mouth to announce that she’s going to cum. “Oh, fuck. Fuck!”
She’s squirming on the bed, mouth shaped in that glorious ‘O’. As her orgasm rattles through her body, she keeps the vibrator on her swollen nub and returns the dildo to her pussy. Anakin follows suit and sheathes his cock once again, thrusting his hips up to the speed Honey is fucking herself.
“I hope you…fuck, that feels good,” she is interrupted by her own pleasure. It’s her authenticity that Anakin adores and enjoys the most. It never feels like she’s performing. “I hope you’re making yourself feel as good as I feel. Are you fucking your hand? Your mattress? A pillow? I bet you wish you were in my tight cunt. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” Anakin breathes. He is on fire now. He’s not sure the coil in his belly could get any tighter. He’s going to cum soon and Honey hasn’t even squirted yet. There’s five minutes left of the video. “You wouldn’t believe—ah, fucking hell— wouldn’t believe how badly I want to fuck you.”
“I’m gonna squirt! Oh my God…please cum for me. Cum while I squirt for you!” Honey removes the dildo as the clear liquid sprays from her cunt. Anakin abandons the Fleshlight and takes over with his tried and true hand. He’s pumping quickly, he’s mesmerized by Honey and how she squirts a little more each time she puts the dildo back inside of her and pulls it back out. Her back is arching off of the bed as she drops both toys and cums one last time.
Anakin is cumming now, too. His sack twitches up toward him while he releases his load on his belly. He stuffs a fist into his mouth to silence his moan. He bites down on his own hand with fervor, and it hurts. He isn’t completely finished when he hears her utter the words ‘last video.’
Wait, what?
He needs to go back. Surely, he didn’t hear her correctly.
“I hope you all enjoyed yourselves while watching. I know I did. This is a bit of a last hurrah for me. I’m starting a new job next week and I just don’t think I’ll have the time to upload, so this might be my last video. Thank you for all of the support over the last three years. I had a great time. Kisses, HoneySuckle.”
And that’s the end of it. Anakin is stunned. He watches her video again. And then once more. There's a lilt to her voice that makes Anakin think she is happy to be done with this. He should be happy for her. But he hangs onto the word ‘might’.
Honey said this might be her last video. Anakin shouldn’t feel so fucking relieved that his favorite OnlyFans performer might still upload videos. What is wrong with him? He has no real connection to her whatsoever yet he feels disappointed by the idea of not having her videos in his life anymore.
Fuck it. He sends her a $500 tip, a little message and goes to wash up.
.
.
.
Panini is pressed against your side, purring contentedly while you stroke his back absently. You’re wrapped in a sherpa cozy in bed while watching The Great British Bake Off. It’s your bedtime show. You’ve probably seen every series at least 3 times, simply because it’s the show you put on to go to sleep. But most of the time, you end up staying up to watch it as if you’ve never seen it before.
Your phone lights up with a notification. You glance at it but immediately do a double take. You grab your phone off of your nightstand and stare at the screen with your jaw dropped.
Skyguy81 sent you a tip!
$500
You pause in the middle of Prue Leith giving her thoughts on someone’s Showstopper. You swipe right to open the message.
That was spectacular, Honey. From the lingerie to the beautiful way you cum. You certainly know how to put on a show. I must admit, I was a bit disappointed to hear that it might be your last video. You are the only performer I watch. I will miss you. I wish you the best of luck with your new endeavor.
And I know what you are going to say. “It’s too much.” It is not. Please accept the tip as a token of my appreciation. You helped me feel less lonely on the days I needed someone the most. - Sky
Why do you feel like you’re about to cry? Sky has been your top supporter since you began uploading videos during COVID. It was just supposed to be a way to make ends meet. To pay off the student loans and any other financials that came up. The tips started off relatively small. $50 here, $75 there. He was the first to give you a $100 tip.
Then, after about a year, he upped it to $200 after each video. Your thank you messages to him turned into conversations. Short ones, never deep or personal, yet you feel like you know him. You feel like…no, it’s silly. You feel like he could be a friend. If you both weren’t hiding behind a screen and fake names, maybe you actually could be.
You begin typing a response.
Sky- I am going to say it anyway. THAT IS WAY TOO MUCH!!! You have been far too generous to me over the years. I don’t deserve it.
He replies in a matter of seconds.
I have to disagree, Honey. I wish I could do more for you.
Like what?
I would take you out to a nice dinner. Perhaps share a bottle of wine while we get to know each other.
Would you take me home after?
Whose home?
Whichever you’d like.
I’d take you back to your house and leave you with a goodnight kiss.
That’s all?
You would like more?
What the hell are you doing? Are you actually flirting with this man? He could be 60 years old and bald! Not that there’s anything wrong with being 60 or bald, but come on. You’re in your 20s. You have to have some limit. You stare at his username. Skyguy81. Maybe 81 is his birth year? So, that would put him at 42. 42 isn’t too bad…
Oh, what the hell. It’s not like you’re actually gonna meet this guy, right?
Well, I might wear something special underneath my dress. Something that I paid for with the money you’ve given me. Wouldn’t you want to see it?
Yes. I would.
What would you do if you took me home?
When you don’t hear back from Sky after thirty minutes, you assume he fell asleep. It is nearly 1 a.m. on a Thursday night. Or is it early Friday morning? Regardless, he probably has work in the morning.
With a rather loud yawn, you decide it’s time for you to go to sleep, too.
.
.
.
Luke and Leia barge into Anakin’s room at 7:30, dressed and ready to go to school while their dad is still fast asleep. He must have slept through his alarm. Luke is poking him in the side and urging him to wake up.
“Alright, I’m up,” he grumbles, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Have you two eaten?”
Leia nods. “Eggos and orange juice.”
“I wanted a Toaster Strudel,” Luke says.
“And I told him we don’t have any Toaster Strudels,” replies his twin sister.
“Yes we do! You just didn’t look hard enough.”
Anakin pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels a headache coming on. He didn’t drink last night, so why does he feel hungover? “Ahsoka ate the last one when she was here on Tuesday, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Luke recalls.
“Dad, we’re gonna be late for school if you don’t get out of bed,” Leia says.
Anakin checks the time on his phone. Your message from last night is at the bottom of his notifications. He already has five work emails to answer. His calendar pings with reminders about meetings and his assistant’s retirement party. “Bring your things to the front door. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
In the rush of getting himself dressed, not only does he put on two different pairs of socks but two different pairs of shoes, too. He doesn’t realize this until after he enters the office and Dorothy, attentive as ever, points it out as he’s walking past her desk and into his office.
Dorothy is 74 years old, a widow, and owl fanatic. She has been Anakin’s assistant since he started the company 20 years ago. “Did you get dressed in the dark, Mr. Skywalker?”
Even after two decades of Anakin’s insistence on calling him by his first name, Dorothy continues to defy him. “I overslept,” Anakin answers. “I was rushing to get ready because you know how Leia gets when she’s late to anything.”
Dorothy nods. “Yes, she is the most punctual 9 year old I know. I presume you did not eat breakfast.”
“No, I didn’t.” Anakin opens his emails.
“Why don’t I get you an egg sandwich from Dexter’s after I retrieve a matching pair to one of your shoes.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Anakin cracks a smile. Dorothy has always been two steps ahead of Anakin. She’s been somewhat of a mother figure to him over the years. She believed in him when no one else did. How many people are going to put their faith in a cocky 22 year old with wild engineering innovations? Dorothy was there when his wife passed away and nannied the twins off and on for a few years while Anakin regained his bearings. His heart contracts. He is truly going to miss her. “Do you have to retire, Dorothy?”
“I’m afraid so,” Dorothy replies with a bittersweet smile. “You will be just fine. And I trust my successor will attend to your needs just as well as I have. I picked her myself. I know exactly what you need in an assistant, Mr. Skywalker.”
Did Dorothy just wink at Anakin before leaving his office? What the hell does she have up her sleeve?
.
.
.
Gold and brown leaves dance across the concrete in the courtyard of Skywalker Enterprises. The autumn air bites at your cheeks and you’re thankful you decided to wear a beanie along with your plaid pea coat.
You notice Dorothy’s silver hair before the rest of her as she walks toward you with two cups of something hot in her hands. “Good morning, Y/N.” she hands you the cup.
“Good morning, Dorothy,” you reply with a smile. You lift off the lid to smell the contents. The steam tickles your nose before recognizing the warm spices of Chai. “You remembered my drink order?”
“Of course.” Dorothy sits across from you. “I trust you went over the files I sent you regarding Mr. Skywalker? How are you feeling about the job?”
You take a meager sip of your Chai latte. It’s still too hot to drink. “I read all of them at least three times. He doesn’t seem too high maintenance.”
“Far from it,” Dorothy replies.
“But…” you begin, wondering if you should even mention it.
“What is it, dear?”
“I just find it a little strange that I haven’t met him. I would’ve assumed he’d be part of the hiring process. Isn’t it important we get along?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Anakin gets along with everyone! He’s a charmer,” Dorothy sips on her drink. “He entrusted me with finding a replacement for myself because I know him better than anyone. I know his needs better than he knows them. And you, my dear, have shown you are more than capable to take over. Your references spoke very highly of you.”
Right. Your references— one of which was your best friend who pretended to be a famous influencer who you “assisted” for 2 years after college. The other was a family you nannied for for only 2 weeks while the wife was out of town and the dad thought he could pull off some fantasy of fucking the nanny. The only good thing that came out of it was him telling you he’d give you a stellar reference for your next job. Turns out he wasn’t lying.
“So, I’ll start on Monday? By myself? No shadowing or anything?”
Dorothy nods. “I will officially be retired by 5 p.m. today. After which, Mr. Skywalker is yours.”
Don’t you wish. You’ve seen photos of him in Forbes. It’s an understatement to say he’s handsome. And it would be a lie to say you didn’t apply for the job because of his looks. By some miracle you were chosen out of hundreds of applicants and hired. You’ve signed the papers already. You’re officially on the Skywalker Enterprises payroll. Of course, you’ll be on probation for 90 days but Dorothy seems confident you’ll be a good fit.
Hopefully you will live up to Anakin Skywalker’s expectations.
remember to reblog and leave comments to support authors!
◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter two
#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x female reader#anakin skywalker x f!reader#anakin skywalker fan fiction#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker imagine#dilf!anakin skywalker#dilf!anakin#dilf anakin skywalker#modern!anakin skywalker#modern anakin skywalker#as fate would have it
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Old friends
Female!reader x 2000's Eminem. (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)
Description - Y/n decides to have a little get together at her house where she gets to spark interests again with her old friend that she hasn't seen since high school.
Warnings - Explicit language, drinking, vomiting, pill or tablet taking
Requested by @heyitstial
Y/n adjusted the plant pot on the coffee table for the 100th time making sure it looked “perfect”. One of her good friends Dre was coming over with a friend of his and she wanted to make sure that her apartment was spick and span. Dre hadn't told Y/n who his friend was and whenever she asked he'd just respond with: “It's a surprise!”
Y/n sat on the sofa and patiently waited for Dre and his friend to show up. Moments later, the doorbell rang as its playful tune rippled throughout the house. Y/n immediately got up and dusted her jeans off before opening the door.
She was immediately met by Dre smiling at her widely with his arms stretched for a hug. Y/n hugged him as he felt his arms around her waist, engulfing her in a warm hug.
When Y/n pulled away she couldn't help but smile. “I've missed you. I haven't seen you in ages.” She said gleefully.
“For real. And speaking of people you haven't seen in ages…” Dre stepped to the side to reveal the Marshall Mathers standing right by Y/n's door.
“Holy crap! Marshall!” Y/n exclaimed as she hugged her old friend.
Her and Marshall were best friends with each other back in high school. They were inseparable and literally attached to the hip. After Marshall had dropped out of high school, they stopped seeing each as often. Then eventually along the way, they lost communication completely and hadn't heard from each other in a few years.
Marshall looked completely different from what Y/n could remember of him. His fluffy brown hair had been replaced with a bleached buzz cut and his teeth looked less crooked. He had small hoop earrings and definitely developed more muscles as well. He looked somewhat… cute.
“How do you guys know each other?” Y/n asked.
“I'm helping Marshall out with his new album. And while we were in the studio the other week, I told him how I was gonna visit you. He said you sounded familiar so I showed him that picture of us when we went to New York and he recognised you. So I decided to surprise you.” Dre replied.
“Wow, that is amazing.” Y/n said.
“Small world, huh?” Marshall said.
“Well, come in, come in.” Y/n said, stepping aside so they had space go inside.
Dre and Marshall stepped in and took off their shoes as they looked around at the living room. They observed in awe at how beautiful and well organised the place looked.
“Damn girl. This is great. How'd you get this?” Dre asked.
“Saved up enough money.” Y/n responded. “Uh, sit down.” She chuckled awkwardly. She wasn't really used to guests coming over to her house.
Dre and Marshall sat down on the sofa opposite to the seat Y/n was sitting in. They made themselves comfortable and leaned into the softness of the cosy sofa.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Y/n asked.
“Hey, uh. Do you ever have people over here?” Dre asked, forgetting Y/n's question.
“Oh, uh no. You guys are actually my first guests here.” Y/n responded.
“Hey how about we invite a friend over and you invite a few of your friends over and we have a small get together? This seems like the perfect place for it.”
Y/n really wanted to say no, she wasn't the biggest party person out there. With work always being her top priority, she never really had time to sit down and relax or to go out with her friends. But being the people pleaser she was, she agreed. At least she'd have some of her friends over too.
“Who are you gonna get?” Marshall asked.
“I'll call Proof. I'll tell him to get drinks as well.” Dre responded. He looked over to Y/n. “Do you have a telephone?” He asked.
Pointed over to a small rounded table where a red telephone was placed. “Right over there.”
Dre thanked her before going over to call Proof. In the meantime, Y/n tried to make conversation with her old friend.
“So, how have you been?” Y/n asked.
“I'm good. I've got a kid now.” Marshall replied.
“Oh, that's amazing.”
“Yeah.. her name's Hailie. She's 4 right now.”
“I bet she's adorable.”
“Oh yeah, she is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”
“Is the mother in the picture?” As soon as those words left Y/n's mouth she wished she could take it back. Sure, her and Marshall were great friends but she hadn't seen him ages, she didn't have to pry around in his business. “Sorry, that was a personal question. I shouldn't have asked that.”
“Hey, don't sweat it. It's you asking so I don't mind. But uh, yeah. The mother’s Kim.” Marshall replied.
“Kim? Like Kim from high school?”
“Yeah. We're… married now.”
“Oh…”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, you guys were pretty on and off in high school.”
“Yeah, no I get that. Actually, Kim found out she was pregnant a few weeks after we broke up. We got married as soon as we could.”
“Oh, right.”
“Yeah, but uh, it's not the best marriage. We're always arguing and fighting over dumb shit. We've resorted to an open relationship now.”
“What do you mean by open relationship?”
“Well, we're both allowing each other to date other people since we don't really have feelings for each other anymore. At this point, we're just staying together for Hailie.”
“Oh, I think I get it. So are you dating anyone?”
“Nope. Sort of wanna focus on my new album.”
“Oh yeah. How's that coming along?”
“I think it's going great.”
“I'd love to listen to it once it's released.”
“I'll send you a copy.” He chuckled.
“I like the new look by the way.” Y/n smirked as she looked at his bright bleached hair.
“Oh yeah. Thanks. It's for my persona, Slim Shady.”
“Alright, I called Proof. He's coming over with drinks. Y/n, you wanna call your friends?” Dre asked as he hung up the phone.
“Yeah, sure.”
As Dre went to sit back down, Marshall, Y/n got up to call her friends. She picked up the phone and dialled her friend, Mikayla's number. It rang for a few seconds before she picked up.
“Hi there, Mikayla speaking!” She greeted Y/n in her usual cheery tone.
Y/n smiled hearing her friend’s happy voice. “Hey girl, it's me Y/n.”
“Hey, what's up?”
“So I'm having a little get together with a few friends. Wanna come over?”
“Ooh, who's there?”
“A few guys.”
“Are they cute?”
“Yeah.”
“Fun! I'll dress extra well. What are you wearing?”
“Just a pair of jeans and a top.” Y/n replied as she looked down at her casual outfit.
“You're wearing that?”
“Yeah I know. Should I change?”
“Yes! Wear something sexy.”
Y/n could just feel Mikayla's wide smirk through the phone. “Yeah, but I don't know what to wear though.”
“Hey, how about that denim mini skirt I got you for your birthday and that cute tank top that you got from that Christmas sale?”
“That's great! I will wear that. Thank you.”
“Well, I am the fashionista friend.”
Y/n chuckled at her friend's joke. “Oh, and while I get ready, can you call Abi and let her know too?”
“Of course. I'll see you then. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Y/n hung up the phone and turned to Dre and Marshall. “Two of my friends are coming over. I'm just gonna quickly change.”
Dre and Marshall nodded as you entered your room and locked the door to get changed. In addition to the mini skirt and tank top, she wore a black push up bra too. The tank top was a bit see through but that didn't mind her. Y/n took one last look at herself in the mirror before coming out of her room.
“Looking good, Y/n.” Dre said.
“Thank you. I'm just gonna clean up the kitchen really quickly.”
What she didn't realise was Marshall absolutely stunned at how beautiful she looked. He found her cute back in high school and couldn't help but notice how much more pretty she looked since all those years ago. The new pair of clothes she was wearing fit her perfectly well. The mini skirt made her legs look elegant and the bra highlighted her breasts perfectly. And to top it off, the tank top she was wearing bought the whole look together to make it all the better.
As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen and closed the door, Dre immediately turned to Marshall.
“You like her, don't you?” Dre asked with a dumb smile on his face.
“As a friend? Yeah.” Marshall replied.
Dre slapped the back of his head and tsked. “Man, not like that. You're into her.”
“No I'm not, we're just friends.”
“Really, cause you were taking a good long look at her. As your face is red as a tomato.”
“It's just hot in here.”
“Man, stop playing with me.”
A few seconds later, the doorbell rang and Y/n immediately left the kitchen to open it. She was met by her friends Mikayla and Abi who immediately engulfed her in a friendly hug.
“You look cute!” Abi said.
“So do you!” Y/n replied. “You look cute too Mikayla, come in.”
Mikayla and Abi stepped in and immediately jumped onto the empty sofa. They came over often so they treated the place like their second home.
“Hey there, girls. Y’all look great.” Dre said.
“Say, you look awfully familiar.” Mikayla said.
“Well, I am Dr. Dre.”
“You are?” Abi exclaimed.
“The one and only.” He replied with a smile.
“Is he lying?” Mikayla asked Y/n.
“Not at all.” She replied.
“You never bothered to tell us?” Abi said.
“Yeah, we I didn't think you'd believe me.” Y/n said, sitting with her friends on the sofa.
“Dude, my little brother, Mike, is so obsessed with you.” Mikayla said.
“Oh really? Should I autograph something for him?” Dre asked.
“He wouldn't believe me even if I had an autograph.”
“I have a polaroid camera. I can take a picture of you both and Dre can sign it.” Y/n offered.
“That sounds great.” Dre said.
Y/n went to get her polaroid camera from her room and swiftly came back. Marshall got off the sofa to let Mikayla sit down next to Dre. He sat down next to Y/n as their shoulders slowly brushed.
Y/n bought the camera up to her eye, her finger hovering over the capture button.
“Alright, ready?”
“Ready!” Dre and Mikayla and Abi said I'm unison.
Y/n hit the capture button as a bright flash came from the camera followed by shutter sound. And at that same moment, Proof burst into the house with 3 six packs of beer.
“What's on you guys!” He cheered as he held the pack up and stuck his tongue out.
Marshall chuckled at Proof's energetic greeting.
“Man, what took you so long?” Dre asked.
“Cashier lady was being a bitch. She thought my ID was fake.” Proof said as he sat down next to Dre. “What's up, Marsh?” Proof asked as he dabbed him up.
The polaroid developed and Y/n chuckled at it. Dre and Mikayla were smiling on the couch and in the background was Proof holding up the 6 packs with an energetic expression on his face. She handed it over to Dre and Mikayla who laughed at the sight of it.
“I'll sign my name right over your face.” Dre said teasingly at Proof.
“Man, fuck you.” Proof chuckled.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Dre said. “I bought a cassette with the tracks Marshall's done so far for his album.” Dre reached out in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled a cassette out.
“Why did you bring that?” Marshall asked as he tried to snatch it off.
“What? Let them listen, I think it's great man and you know it too. You got a cassette radio?” He asked Y/n.
“Yup.” Y/n reached under the TV stand where a cassette radio was. She took it out and placed it on the coffee table.
Dre put the cassette in and hit play. A few moments later, the first track started playing. It started off with a catchy beat followed by Marshall's voice. His voice easily flowed through the beat and his lyrics felt immaculate. Marshall groaned as he sat back on the sofa.
“I think it's pretty good.” Y/n said as she turned her head to look at Marshall.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I'm being serious, Marsh.” She playfully pushed his knee.
Marshall jokingly flipped her off to which she happily returned the favour as old high school memories started flooding back to her.
As the music played through the background, everyone introduced each other and talked for a while. Proof eventually opened one of the 6 packs and passed everyone a beer.
“What is this?” Abi asked as she inspected the can.
“Beer, duh. Drink up!” Proof responded.
“I very much prefer Y/n's blue cocktail.” Abi said as she leaned her head on her friend's shoulder.
“It's Y/n's best cocktail. She works at a bar.” Mikayla said.
“What bar you work at?” Proof asked.
“Pink Pristine.” Y/n responded.
“Holy shit, you work at Pink Pristine?” Marshall said as he sat up.
“Yeah, I've been there for a while.”
“Ain't that the bar where all the rich people go?” Proof asked.
“Yeah, that's the one.”
“No wonder you got such a nice house.” Marshall aside.
“We love Y/n's blue cocktail. She always makes it for us.” Mikayla said.
“Blue cocktail?” Dre asked.
“I haven't found a good name for it.”
“Can you please make us some?” Abi asked. She looked up at Y/n with a pouty expression and wide eyes.
“I don't have all the ingredients for it, sorry.” Y/n said.
Mikayla and Abi both groaned in disappointment.
“Alright then, drink up!” Proof said.
Everyone cracked open their beer bottles and said cheers before drinking up. Y/n wasn't the biggest fan of beer; the bitter taste made her throat dry and left a terrible scent in her mouth.
“Anyone wanna try chugging the beer against me?” Proof asked.
“What?” Abi said in confusion.
“Me and another person both chug their beers and see who lasts the longest without stopping.” He explained. “Anyone up? Marshall?” Proof looked at him with a sly expression.
“Nah, man. I threw up like crazy last time.” Marshall said.
Proof looked around at everyone else, hoping for an answer. But he was only met with a thick silence. He was about to give up until Y/n spoke up.
“I'll do it.” She said, feeling determined.
“Alright then! Let's go! First to chug 3 wins.”
“Are you sure?” Mikayla said.
“I'll be fine.” Y/n responded.
Proof and Y/n both got ready to chug down their beers as Dre started the countdown. He did it slowly, which built up a lot of tension and a suspenseful manner.
“3, 2, 1… Go!” Dre said.
Y/n immediately started chugging down her drink as fast as she could. The bitter taste of the alcohol made her throat dry. However, she still continued to chug the drink down like it was nothing. She could hear everyone else cheering and whooping for them, encouraging them to go faster.
Y/n and Proof had finished their first can at around the same time and they were already onto the next one. She chugged that one down, already feeling the struggle to keep up. Proof was easily chugging it down like it was water meanwhile Y/n was scrunching her nose up at the scent.
When it got to the third can, Y/n could feel some of the beer trickling down her chin and down her neck. She decided she couldn't take it anymore and that she'd let Proof take the win. Y/n took the half empty cab off her lips, finally giving up, only for her to accidentally spill the rest of the beer onto her shirt and skirt.
The loud and supportive cheering was replaced by gasps. The beer had only made her shirt more see through, revealing her bra underneath more. She quickly got up to go change as her friends followed behind her.
“Yo, are you okay?” Proof asked.
“I'm fine!” Y/n called back before entering her bedroom.
“Did you guys see Marshall's face?” Mikayla asked quietly as soon as Y/n shut the door.
“No, why?” Y/n responded.
“He went all red and couldn't take his eyes off you.” Mikayla explained.
“He likes you!” Abi exclaimed.
“He doesn't. We're just old friends.” Y/n said.
“Old friends?” Mikayla asked.
“Yeah, we were best friends in high school.”
“Did you guys ever date?” Abi asked.
“No.. but we kissed once.”
“You did?!” Abi and Mikayla exclaimed at the same time.
“Shhh! But yes, we did. It was once. Then we never talked about it.”
Y/n changed her shirt and bra out for something more comfortable. She decided to wear a sports bra and an old baggy shirt on top.
When they came out of the room, Y/n could sense some sort of tension in the living room. Marshall's face was blushing red as a a tomato. He looked more embarrassed than flustered.
“Everything okay?” Y/n asked as she placed her hand on Marshall's shoulder.
“Yeah everything's fine.” He replied.
“Hey should I order pizza?” Y/n asked.
“Oh, yeah that's good. Let's do that.” Dre said.
Y/n called the pizza place nearby and placed an order for a large pepperoni pizza and for a large meat feast pizza too.
“Are we even gonna finish all of this?” Y/n asked as she sat back down.
“Hey, me, Dre and Marshall can easily have a whole pizza for ourselves.” Proof reassured jokingly.
A few minutes passed and the pizza arrived. Everyone was starting so they were pumped to get their hands on a slice. They all reached in and took a bite, feeling at ease.
Y/n could feel her stomach churn as she ate the pizza. Perhaps pizza and 2 and half cans of beer weren't the best combination to have. She started to feel queasy so she decided to have a glass of water. Y/n could feel that uncomfortable feeling in her stomach slowly drifting away from her as she finished the water.
As minutes passed, everyone decided to sit on the couch and talk with each other for a while as music radio played. As the previous song faded, a new one started to play. It started off with a snappy beat and then followed by a female voice. It was the type of music you'd hear at a club or at a bar.
“Ooh! I love this song.” Abi said, smiling widely.
“I like this song too. Care to dance?” Proof asked smoothly as he offered his hand.
Abi instantly put her hand in his as the both stood up to dance. They both put their hands on each other and held each other close as they swayed to the music.
“Guys, join in!” Abi said.
“Yeah, get your asses off the couch.” Proof chimed in.
Dre and Mikayla gave each other a look before shrugging at each other and going off to dance. Y/n looked at Marshall with a sly smile.
“Care to dance?” She asked.
“Why not?” Marshall said.
They both got up to dance along with the others too. Marshall placed his hand on Y/n's waist as she placed her ls on the sides of his neck. They pulled each other closer and swayed to the music. Their foreheads touched as the tip of their noses came to contact too.
Y/n felt the space around her getting hot and stuffy. Her cheeks came to a bright pink colour from the heat as she felt beads of sweat trickling down the back of her neck.
“Hey, you okay there?” Marshall asked.
“Just a bit hot.” Y/n replied.
“Do you wanna step outside?”
“Yes please.”
With that decision, they went out to the back garden where they stood on the wood porch. The sky was dark and looked majestic with the twinkling stars and bright moon staring down on them.
“You know what this reminds me of?” Marshall asked.
“What?” Y/n asked curiously.
“When we snuck into that disco that the school was hosting cause we had to pay to go.”
Y/n gasped slightly as the memory started flooding back to her mind. “I remember! We danced for a bit, we got caught and stole snacks.”
“Yes!” Marshall chuckled. “And then we just kinda sat outside and watched the moon. And then we were talking and then…”
“We kissed.” Y/n said softly as she watched the grass rustle in the gentle wind.
“Yeah…”
“That was my first kiss actually.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Not at all.”
They both looked at each other for a moment before leaning in slightly. But in that moment, Y/n felt her stomach getting queasy again as it tied up in twists and turns. She could feel a weird itchy feeling coming from her throat.
Shit.
She covered her mouth and turned around, vomiting into the nearest plant pot. Well, there goes her aloe vera. Marshall immediately held her hair up and stroked her back gently. His touch was calming and made her feel more at ease.
“Hey, if you don't feel well, I'll tell everyone to go home okay?” Marshall said.
“Okay, could you do that please?” Y/n replied.
Marshall quickly informed everyone about Y/n to which they were immediately concerned, especially Mikayla and Abi.
“Is she okay?” Abi asked.
“We wanna see her.” Mikayla said.
“She's fine but she needs space. It's best if everyone leaves.” Marshall stated.
“You coming with us?” Dre asked.
“I'll stay here to help her clean up. I can call a cab afterwards. I'll be fine.” Marshall insisted.
“Alright, man. Call me when you get home.” Proof said.
And with that, everyone but Marshall left. He took her to the bathroom so she could clean herself up while he cleaned up. He threw away all the empty beer cans and put the leftover pizza in some tupperware to leave in the fridge. He then hoovered and disposed of the aloe vera plant.
“Thank you, Marshall.” Y/n said as she stood by the doorpost on the living room door.
“Yeah, of course. I'm gonna get a cab and leave. Goodnight.”
“Wait.”
“Yeah?”
“It's 2 am. You can stay over, I think that's best.”
“No, it's fine. Don't worry. I don't wanna bother you.”
“You won't bother me Marshall. You're my friend. I have a guest bedroom. Feel free to stay there. I'll quickly clean it.”
“Hey, don't bother. It's fine.”
“Please…”
“Okay, I'll stay, but you don't have to clean the room. I just need to call Proof quickly and let him know.”
Y/n nodded and bid him goodnight before going over to her bedroom to take a fully deserved sleep. After Marshall informed Proof, he also went to sleep on the guest bed and slowly drifted to a slumber.
In the middle of the night, Y/n woke up with the sudden urge to have a glass of water. Her mouth felt dry and she needed to quench her thirst. She laid in bed for a minute before finally getting up. She'd probably had to take a tablet too for her killer headache she was just starting to deal with.
She noticed that the light in the kitchen was on, Marshall was probably in there. When she opened the door, she was met with Marshall turning on the tap and getting himself some water.
“Hey.” Y/n said gently, not wanting to startle him.
“Oh hey.” He replied as looked up at her with a soft smile. “Also craving some water?”
“Yup. And something for my killer headache.”
She rummaged through her cupboards and found ibuprofen. She took some cold water, immediately satisfying the dry feeling in her mouth.
“Listen, about earlier outside. I'm sorry-” Y/n started.
“Don't be sorry.”
Before she could say anything else, he sealed her lips with a gentle kiss. The gentleness of kiss soon became replaced with the feeling of desire and having to fulfil a desperate need.
“Do you wanna sleep with me tonight?” Y/n offered.
“Sure.”
Moments later, Y/n found herself laying head against Marshall's chest and playing with the fabric of his shirt on her bed.
“I'm sorry for losing contact with you over the years.” Y/n apologised.
“It's my fault too.” Marshall insisted.
“Why don't we try giving this a chance?”
“I like the sound of that.”
Marshall kissed her head before they both fell asleep in each other's embrace.
#eminem#eminem x reader#marshall mathers#marshall mathers x reader#slim shady#slim shady x reader#8 mile#b rabbit#b rabbit x reader#jimmy smith jr#jimmy smith jr x reader
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it's almost 4am i can't get this out of my head holy shit.
reader whose original body is a literal eldritch forest deity and speaks in hymns (bonus points: after we isekai into said og body, we mix slang into it).
the acolytes have to break their fucking necks just to talk to you eye-to-eye, and the only thing they can make out of what you say is something equal to tablets bajillion years old already.
or that reader is constantly cussing and the acolytes just nod along not understanding whatever this 15ft tall eldritch horror is saying.
-🫀
ELDRITCH HORROR READER. I LIVEEE, NONE OF U UNDERSTAND, THIS IS SO DEEPLY AHHHHHH
I LITERALLY JUST SHIMMY STIM IN MY SEAT WHEN I THINK ABT THIS TOO LONG LMAO
i LIVE AND BREATHE for when we look like eldritch horrors but are just people lmao
IF I HAVEN’T RUN U OFF, 🫀 MY HEART, MI CORAZON <3
U HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND DESPITE BEING A BLOODY HEART
☆
Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them only), Eldritch!Reader
Planet: Misc. Genshin AUs
Orbit: some headcanons, tiny scenario
Stars: a little bit of Zhongli, Xiao, Ganyu, Ningguang, Keqing, and the adepti
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Light Description of Body Modifications/Body Horror-esque, Light Description of Eldritch Horror Creature, Reader has a Non-Human Body,
& Trigger Warnings: Eldritch Monster, Light Body Horror, Non-Con Body Modifications (Wake up as a monster, described as positive).
FUCKING LOVE THIS GIF, AND THIS SONG AND ARTISTTT
hey so here’s a song to listen I was listening to while writing this, chose the instrumental bc it was less distracting!
👉👈 hope u like :)
you just come into Teyvat from either Enkanomiya, the straight up Abyss/Dark Realm or even Celestia/Light Realmunder that glowing mushrooms tree in the Chasm, or like, ooo even by the upside down Barbatos statue 👀
and its great bc ur like- “omg Teyvat ooooo, ahhhh”
meanwhile the animals/magical creatures/beings nearby like shakin in their boots
literally no matter what land type their in, water, air, etc. they’re all bowing (despite the hooves, the paws, the flippers, the wings,) hell, even the bugs?? Might be bowing???
and you were slow to wake up wherever you were, so it took you a second to really process-
plus it just felt so weirdly, natural?
Not like walking on 2 legs no, but more like, how swimming feels but without the act of doing it?
you realize you’re… hovering.
wow, guess you can do that now,
your pretty much crowned with every flower from the regions of Teyvat, and a few from other Realms like Celestia, Abyss, and Enkanomiya, etc.
you have extra limbs, you feel them shift like you’ve had them all your life, even tho you do smack urself a few times with them lmao (new hand-eye coordination is hard)
and you realize u can see elemental traces/elements of beings, even plants, all the time now?
It isn’t until you look into a pretty still pond that you see what you look like,
you’ve got more eyes
I mean u thought you’d just be one of the twins, or ur own person if somebody asked u what youd look like isekaied to Genshin Impact, not what looks like the elemental god of the fucking continent
but you don’t look bad! actually you think you look kinda neat!
You’ve got like this coat of many draping vines and plantlife, glowing coral poking out near the top that’s around your throat, and- is that- tiny waterfalls?? Running down your nature cape too??
the many gemstones and ore of this planet form your legs, strong and taller than even regular human guys back on Earth, you’re like what? Eight? Nine feet? (about 245cm, or 2.5 meters)
You’re head… it’s like a dragons skull?? You’ve got these black horns flowing out from the top too that fade to a golden glow, like a crown nearly, theyre draped with what looks like strings of primogems??
oh and your extra eyes are symmetrical that’s good!
tho it does seem like you got this handy hood included into your cape of much nature to flop onto your head
where your heart should be, there’s two bursting stars circling one another, one of pink, purples and light blues, the other of gold and blue, oh hey, the wishing stars for standard and character banners!
and if you like mushrooms, at least one of every kind in Teyvat’s countries/regions is looking cool on ur cape, and if you like bugs, the cool ones like the rhino beetles from inazuma are being cute little buddies on ur stuff too
and like in the gif, every step you take overfills with life, except it stays and doesn’t wither like above, and it also does that glow bit that some places in Sumeru do/Enkanomiya
You CANNOT be missed no matter where you walk, and your sort of constantly feeling like you’ve drank 3 energy + 5 espresso shots of coffee
but in a way that makes you sort of full? like full on life… and like you could be even bigger, and taller, if you willed it
♤
k but the adepti felt ur presence coming in hot from literal mountains away
Cloud Retainter, and Guizhong, had set up inventions long ago to sense the Original of Teyvat, just in case, because some signs of prophecy of your return had begun to show in their lands
Zhongli especially knew you were close to come after another major sign was met, the corruption after the Archon War, and the ravaging of the land by the fall of Khaenri’ah’s “metal beasts”
So when you finally walk your way into Jueyun Karst, the adepti are already waiting, Xiao, Ganyu, and Zhongli as well,
Luckily Ganyu, with Zhongli’s help or advice, convinced the adepti to share this meeting with the Qixing as well like Keqing, and the Tianquan herself
It was a momentous occasion after all, but you were just now feeling the need to maybe nap a little after nearly, what was it, 2 weeks worth of constant walking?
wow this new body had literal stamina for days
you arrived late into the night, around midnight, under a full moon, and they’re relieved all the signs are being met
◇
honestly the only reason you headed to Liyue was bc you knew it was the closest (the map of Teyvat was both familiar in the way it had been in game, but also on a deeper level, like walking around your house in the dark)
and u rlly wanted to be able to talk to somebody, bc u had no idea?? wtf you were??
honestly you thought the adepti/Zhongli would be a good bet bc they’d maybe tell u what creature u ended up as,
u did suspect maybe you’d ended up as some kind of god, but like?? none of the other gods looked like this???
and u see them all! up ahead in Jueyun Karst! Oh no! You really, really, really, hope they don’t think you’re a walking talking evil tree dragon thing-
…maybe you should wave?
◇
As you get closer,
Xiao’s back straigtens, Ganyu nervously looks at the ground, Keqing is trying to figure out where to look bc ur so tall, Ningguang has her hands respectfully folded in front of her and her facial muscles looks tensed for a fight almost, the adepti are shuffling nervously bc they’re not used to being the magically weaker/younger creatures in the area, and Zhongli-
Zhongli is no longer the mortal Zhongli.
Amber horns curl up from his head, long brunette hair with glowing gold tips flowing and loose, claws on display, as he stands in his finest and oldest lóng páo, black with gold detailing embroidered throughout, it details his deeds as Rex Lapis and Morax, the spears of his vanquishing gods across the front and back, he looks like a living painting
and although he looks as serene as if he’s about to sit down for some tea, the adepti can see the tremoring hands, the same he used to hide in his sleeves when he was genuinely intimidated by another god, usually the older ones he’d had to fight
but for the first time since the archon war, this was one he was going to welcome with open arms, and utmost respect, despite his position as archon forfeited
there’s a strange music in the air of the night as the animals and the bugs and creatures of the realm subtly make the beat, the god’s feet (of ore Rex Lapis hasn’t seen since he was a child, it was so rare to find) shake the earth of his land with each step, a deep quiet booming like a drum of war as they get closer
The God of All stops some distance away from them
…and the Huangdi of All, just waves. 💀👋
at Zhongli, the adepti, Xiao, the Tianquan, and the Qixing.
A long black limb with a rainbow shine like a crow’s wing raises, gives an ironically tiny wave of their clawed black hand,
and tilts their head, though a sort of greenery hood covering it
and speaks,
“ ˙˙˙ʎzɐɹɔ sı ʇıɥs sıɥʇ ¿ʍou ʇɥƃıɹ ɯɐ ı ʞɔnɟ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ ʍouʞ sʎnƃ noʎ op uɯɐp”
your voice is like singing, deep, high, like a choir trying to sing all at once to them
Xiao cringes a little in surprise, he was braced for your older speech just in case but it still caught him off guard, and unfortunatly, he gives a quick glance to Lord Rex Lapis,
he can’t understand any of that, and Ganyu and Keqing are in the same boat, but while the Yaksha’s only done passive studying in hopes of understanding you, the Lord of Geo had gone much further back in trying to make sure he could understand your words, should the day come, his library, even now living as a mortal, is extensive
the other adepti and Ningguang catch a few words, but it’s too,, simple really, to understand
the words have no context, they need more, but such is the ancients, they’re meanings simple and all-encompassing
Lord Rex Lapis bows deeply,
“We welcome you with open arms, our Huangdi. Please, feast your eyes upon the land with which I have wrought with mine own talons, for all is ever truly yours.”
the adepti announces for them all, voice giving away no nerves, Xiao can still understand him luckily, though he has greatly simplified himself for the sake of being understood by the ancient god of creation,
“ ˙˙˙ʞɔıʇs ɐ uo ʇsıɹɥɔ snsǝɾ ¡¿ılƃuoɥz noʎ uǝʌǝ ¿noʎ oʇ poƃ ɟo puıʞ ǝɯos ɯ,ı 'ǝʇnuıɯ uɯɐp ɐ ʇıɐʍ”
your voice is an energy through the air, and makes the trees nearby lean in to hear you better, the creeks and ponds of the area leave their beds a little to get closer, geo crystalflys emerge and begin to swirl around your natural body, perching on your horns, making it look even more like a crown
Xiao gulps.
Rex Lapis’ and Ningguang’s spines straighten further if they even can from the impeccable posture they were before, They share a quick glance…
…neither of them caught that one, only a few words, and Ganyu feels her shoulders drop as she gives up trying to hear you and understand as well,
you make a strange sound, a high humming, a deep confusion with some worry, the crystalflys buzz around you a little faster,
then point to yourself
...and make a peace sign. ✌️
it was going to be a long night.
☆
idk if this made any sense, and I sincerely hope that you at least liked what I wrote a little bit, sorry about the over description 😭 I just felt like it was very important but then I realized I hadn’t even talked about the language yet… anyway here u go LMAO
I hope it was alright, and I seriously love your idea, even if I didn’t take it in the direction you wanted/as cool as you meant!! :/
Thanks for the badass idea, i fucking love eldritch shit <3
☆
Safe Travels,
💀 ♒
♡my beloved♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk
#this is a mess to sort on the masterlist#like language barrier au?#but also kinda blunt?#but also misc. bc ur an eldritch being??#fuck it#its goin in 2 spots like some of the others that got confusing#genshin impact#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin imagines#genshin isekai#my asks#gender neutral reader#genshin impact sagau#genshin impact self aware#genshin impact sagau language barrier au#genshin sagau language barrier au#sagau language barrier au#sagau eldritch reader#eldritch reader#genshin impact x reader#sagau x reader
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[BAD DECISION #60] Obduracy
warnings: starlovers!!!! <33 i really luv jimin in this one hehehe, lots of callbacks to earlier chapters!! fingering, pretty tame by their standards!!! but kinda semi-public? i mean they're at home but like... kitchen?? i dunno up to you to decide!
a/n: this one doesnt have a little cover image :( had to make it fresh :( the first non wattpad chapter :( waaaa. im hoping to having something new ready for you tomorrow hehehehhe
wc: 8.3K
bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)
AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI
Jeongguk wears his hangovers incredibly well. Like an oversized shirt draped over his broad shoulders, it billows down his body, leaving you to guess what's hidden underneath.
It's hard to tell if he's suffering like you are, for his face gives nothing but contentment away.
Hair messy and dishevelled, it sits like an unruly crown on his head as he washes dishes left from the evening before. A soft smile lingers on his lips as he hums along to the song quietly playing through the kitchen speaker, his voice far prettier than the original singer. The king of his very own kitchen, there's an innate flick to his wrists as he shakes water off steel bowls and pops them on the drying rack.
Chest bare, he pays it no mind when tiny flecks of warm water splash against his skin.
Vines of ink trail up his arm and onto his shoulder. His self-modification proves he wasn't born from gold but rather polished to resemble something like it.
In a way, it makes him so much more valuable. Or at least it does to you.
As you watch on from a bar stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island, chatting with him about the events of the night before, you wonder how it's possible for a man with a smile like his to have a body like that.
The maths just doesn't compute, but you've never been great with numbers. Have always been more drawn to art—and God, what a work Jeongguk is.
Quite the contrary, you wear your hangovers with far less grace.
There's glitter all over your skin, and your hair looks more like a bird's nest than a crown.
In front of you sits a barely touched glass of water and two Tylenol tablets yet to be taken. The thud in your head has only intensified since you woke up with a dry throat and achy body, but you're trying to push through it.
"You're only making it worse," Jeongguk softly scolds you when you whine and slump down to rest your head on the countertop. "Don't be so stubborn."
When he talks like that, all assertive and domineering, it only makes you wanna be even more stubborn. It's in part thanks to your defiant nature, but also in part due to your desperation to have him use that tone of voice with you again.
"I can defeat it," you whine against the cold stone, a pathetic moan humming in your throat.
With your hair still damp from your shower, you find yourself irritated by how quickly Jeongguk's hair dries compared to yours. It's your own fault, for you're the one who insists on changing its colour with the seasons, but it annoys you nonetheless.
Then again, everything irritates you when you're this hungover.
Truth be told, you'd happily get your hair wet all over again, if it meant you got to indulge in another shower with Jeongguk. Want nothing more than to relieve the way it feels for him to shampoo your hair, rubbing the pads of his fingers in circular motions against your scalp. If the restaurant doesn't work out, he could always opt to be a hairdresser, you think, then mentally reprimand yourself for daring to even think of a scenario in which the restaurant doesn't work out. Would never forgive yourself if you jinxed it.
Jeongguk doesn't mind the grouchiness that comes with your hangovers, 'cause they always come with an added side of clinginess, too. You had wrapped around him like a koala bear for that entire shower. Had your cheek to his chest, arms tightly locked around his back, eyes firmly closed as he washed your hair.
Gorgeous girl, he thinks to himself, then resumes the stern telling off he was giving you. Just wants you to feel okay, that's all. Knows you're too determined for your own good, sometimes.
"Clearly," he almost scoffs, not mean but definitely a little curt. His head's killing him, too. He just hides it better. Swinging open the fridge, he grabs a bottle of water—2 litres—and cracks open the seal. "Take your pills, or I won't get you anything when I order breakfast."
"Gguk," you whine, slowly sitting up straight to look at him with the biggest pout. Head tipped back, he's chugging on his water straight from the bottle at such a rate you're surprised he doesn't choke.
By the time he's finished, he's practically at the halfway point of the bottle. Shaking his head, he swallows his last mouthful down. Pants, a little. Says, "Water, pills, now."
Narrowing your eyes, you finally do as you're told, but make sure to say, "You're mean."
Jeongguk just shakes his head. "I love you."
With your eyes on his, you try your hardest not to show any sign of weakness—but when he presses his lips into a thin, curved line and smiles in a way that makes it impossible to fight, you can't help yourself.
"Fine," you strop regardless, tossing your pills back and swallowing them down with a chug of water.
"See," he softly says in a way that is both patronising yet ever so gentle.
He walks around the counter to stand beside you, and welcomes the innate way your hand reaches up to hold his waist. He's just the same in how his hand cradles your cheek, keeping your face angled to look up towards him.
"Wasn't so hard, was it, baby?" He gently toys.
"You're the worst," you assure him, 'cause he knows he's being a little git right now.
And so, just like the last incredibly soft insult thrown his way, he fends it off by saying, "I love you."
"If you really loved me, you would have let me stay in bed."
"We have shit to do today, B," he reminds you. "I forced you up because I love you. Now, don't be rude. Say it back."
Jeongguk's ability to demand you say such heavy, ardent words is nothing short of a miracle.
When you first met Jeongguk, the idea of him being so straightforward and forthcoming with his own feelings felt like an impossible task. Yet here he is, unafraid to tell you how much he cares for you, and unashamed to ask for reciprocation.
Tugging him a little closer, you rest your pointed chin against his sternum, and get him looking down towards you.
Quietly, you whisper, "You know I love you."
"Say it again," he demands once more, his heavy-lidded eyes trained on yours as he speaks.
"I love you."
He smiles, now. Nods.
"Good," he says, then pulls away to grab his phone and open up a delivery app. Has his favourite cafe pinned to the top. Clicks through to the menu without a second thought, muscle memory prevailing. "French toast? Iced coffee?"
"You know me so well," you hum with a pleasant smile, hopping off the bar stool and meandering over to Jeongguk's sofa.
He follows you without hesitation and tugs the blanket from the armchair as he does so. You're wearing one of his shirts, and he's just in a pair of sweats, so a blanket seems like a sensible choice for now.
Jimin still hasn't risen from his pit, and Nabi's clothes are still in the living room—just in a neat pile now, thanks to Jeongguk's innate need for a clean space to ensure he can power through his hangover.
"You reckon they're gonna wake up soon?" You ask Jeongguk as he snuggles in beside you, flicking on the television.
"Not a chance," he laughs. "Nabi's probably gonna escape out his bedroom window or something like that. Spent years denying there was anything going on, and I don't think her pride will be able to take the hit of being wrong."
"You never know," you begin to playfully theorise. "Maybe they're just friends."
"Have you forgotten getting home last night?"
"Well, yeah, but I mean, I shagged you plenty of times, and we've always just been friends."
"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "We've never been just friends."
"No?"
"No," he says with a cocksure confidence that has been earned over many months of knowing you as intimately as he does. Smiling as you roll your eyes, you don't bother fighting back. It's a losing cause. "We're best friends. Duh."
If you could have it your way, the day would be spent exactly like this—cuddled up on Jeongguk's sofa without a care in the world—but you've got work to do.
The gallery needs to be cleaned up from the night before. It's not a huge amount of work, but still tedious labour that you'd rather not do with a raging headache. One of the reasons you're given such liberty with the gallery space is because you always make sure it's left without a trace, and so you know you need to get it sorted sooner rather than later.
Jeongguk's offered to help out, 'cause his day is empty. Other than discussing the business with Yoongi, his agenda is remarkably clear, and if he's being honest, the last thing he wants is to talk about the restaurant.
See, Jeongguk worries. He's got everything in the palm of his hand—his girl, his dreams, his future. All it takes is one misstep, and he could lose everything.
Comfort is found in you. Solace.
"Smell good," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck, sinking into a more comfortable position snuggled up against you. Doesn't kiss you, but he does let his lips trail up your skin in a way that promises he eventually will.
"Smell like you," you sweetly reply, 'cause none of your things have made their way into his home yet. The shampoo you use is his. The shower gel, the moisturiser, the suncream. It's all him—and you love nothing more than going home with such innocent reminders of him on your skin.
"Mhm," he confirms. That's exactly why he likes it so much. The silage of you is the signpost of him. "Mine."
Any gap between you (which admittedly isn't much at all) is eliminated with the way Jeongguk drags you into his embrace. It's the kind of hug that can only be described as acceptance: there is no you, nor him. Just the pair of you, together.
It's dangerous territory to embark upon, with such reliance on another person, but it's also a path that you just can't seem to resist.
Laced in berries, the hedgerows of this rambling walk you're strolling down together keep you going forward. Occasionally, you'll stop. Smell the roses. Pluck a berry here or there. Pause when you hear the noise of a wild beast in the forest that surrounds you, or the threatening echo of a farmer and his gun.
But then forwards, you'll go. Destination, unknown. Wherever you end up is exactly where you'll need to be.
The wait for food is wasted away together, dumb conversations about nothing and anything that comes to mind. Jeongguk toys with your fingers. Plays with your rings. Strokes the pad of his index finger over the small callous on your middle one.
"Used to be worse," you acknowledge, holding up your hand to study it. Back when you were in school, the amount of writing and doodling you did meant a callous was inevitable. Now that you're out of the habit of doodling, and far less likely to spend hours writing by hand, it's softened. Almost looks as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Part of your history that is slowly fading away.
One day, you won't be able to recall any part of your life that isn't inexplicitly saturated by him.
He holds up his own hands. Studies them against yours. It's like some juvenile flirt, comparing hand sizes, as if your legs aren't tangled with his, and his other hand isn't wedged between your thighs.
You're not learning anything new. Are revising, for a lack of a better term. Just like you used to do with the birds, when you wanted any excuse you could use to be intimate with one another.
It's different now, you suppose. Intimacy. How you view it. Just isn't what it once was.
Things that used to be sacred to you are now second nature.
Glancing across to Jeongguk as he natters on about the deep line that runs along his palm, and how it signals he's destined for greatness, you realise there's an ache blooming in your chest.
His pouty lips rabbit on, dark eyes occasionally fluttering across to you, then back to his hand.
There's a vulnerability to him. It's his eyes, you think, and their need to check in on you. He's making sure you're listening. Interested. Aren't bored or waiting for him to shut up. It's a somewhat nervous habit of his, stemming from the fact he doesn't ever really talk this much with anyone else.
In a way that no one else is lucky enough to experience, Jeongguk opens himself up to you. About the big and the bad, the emotional and the heavy, but also about the small, lovely, lightweight things, too. Weather talk, mindless chatter he'd never bother engaging in with other people.
He talks of superstitions and legends, movies he watched as a kid, and dreams he had overnight—a stream of consciousness, all for you.
See, Jeongguk talks.
Around you, he talks and talks and talks.
If his mother could see him like this, she'd be gobsmacked. He's always been the more quiet one of her sons. Reserved. Cautious to speak in fear of saying the wrong thing.
But he's childlike in his eagerness to share with you, Bambi eyes wide and sparkling, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip whenever he leaves enough room for you to respond.
Time is lost in conversation until his doorbell chimes—a notice of food arriving.
"Go get changed," you say, tapping on his knee as you get to your feet. "I'll sort out breakfast."
Nodding, he does as he's told, lightly spanking your ass before heading to his room. Glancing over your shoulder, you feign a little hurt.
"I'll kiss it better," he promises, and you know he will.
The curse of his devotion to you means he can never lie.
He can, however, keep secrets. Small ones. Teeny tiny ones that will have no consequence other than to make you melt when he finally reveals them.
Checking his phone, Jeongguk smiles to himself when he notices a notification of confirmation—plans made now rolling into motion. You cope with surprises far better than he does. Appreciate the romanticism of it all. He's sure you'll like it.
When he comes back into the kitchen, you have to hold in a desperate groan. Who gave him the right to look like that? And how many cats did you save from trees in a previous life to deserve it?
Dressed for the gym, he's in a pair of dark shorts that sit on his hips as if they were made just for him. The contours of his upper body are on display for everyone to see, a tight black compression shirt outlining the ridges on his chest.
The silver chain he always wears is tucked outside of the shirt, 'cause he doesn't like the pressure of the fabric on top of it, and his hair lays flat against his head. He's perfectly undone.
As he's putting on a pair of socks by the sofa, he clocks you staring. Simply hums, "Hm?"
Eyes wide and unassuming, he's oblivious to the fact you feel like you might faint just by looking at him, even if the socks he's putting on have individual spaces for each of his toes.
We can't all be perfect, after all—though Jeongguk would argue his socks encourage correct toe alignment, which could only be a good thing.
"Anyone ever told you that you're a menace to society?" You painfully whine, the groan you were hiding making its presence known.
Almost bashful, Jeongguk tips his head to the side, eyes twinkling your reflection back at you.
"Flattery won't convince me to let you go back to bed," he teases, playing off the compliment. Socks on, he makes his way over to you without hesitation, his tattooed arm draping over your shoulders, as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.
"Was worth a try," you playfully tease him, even if you did mean it. Hooking your arm around his waist, you give him a squeeze and glance up towards him. A tender kiss is given and received, his lips softly curving into a smile against yours. "Eat up. Quicker we leave, the quicker you can get to the gym, and the quicker you can come back to mine afterwards."
The outline of your day is solid: go to the gallery and get it cleaned up, meander back to town with Jeongguk, send him on his way to the gym, pick up some groceries and then head home.
Small errands that will eat up most of the day, but an empty evening that can be spent exactly as you'd like: with him.
"We at yours tonight?" He hums, still getting used to just how easy it is to coexist next to you. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a life like this.
"Feel like Jimin might need the privacy," you note, very much aware that he hasn't made a single appearance, which is very unlike him. He's normally reciting lines from The Notebook by this point in the morning.
You know he's fine, 'cause you heard the synthetic ding of his speaker being turned on a little while earlier, presumably to drown out any 'conversations' he might be having.
Jeongguk smirks, picking out a strawberry from the container next to the french toast, and says, "He never gave us privacy."
Tossing the strawberry to his back teeth, there's a smile on Jeongguk's lips that's impossible not to mirror. Turning slightly, you get yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen island. Wrap your arms around his neck. Encourage him down to nudge his nose against yours.
"Yeah, but he also never caught us having sex," you remind Jeongguk, lips brushing against his. Breakfast can wait. Or maybe the menu can just change. "We were incredibly well-behaved as far as he's concerned."
"We were?" Jeongguk quietly flirts, his hips pressing against your tummy, letting you know just how much he enjoys being with you. "I don't think you've ever been well behaved."
"Oh, but I am," you simper right back. Reaching down for his hands, you encourage them to roam your body. Squeeze them over your chest, then encourage them down to the tops of your thighs—or, more specifically, between them. "I'm such a good girl for you, aren't I?"
Pressing his fingers up against your thinly-covered cunt, Jeongguk smirks, the subtle markers of your arousal greeting him like they so often do.
"You are," he nods. "And you're gonna be good for me now aren't you?" His fingers hook the lace of your underwear to the side, and gently begin to tease your wet folds. "Gonna keep it nice and quiet for me, huh?"
Nodding, you let yourself succumb to your unbridled desire to have your lips on his as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. With a small whine, you totally disregard the promise you've only just made.
And so Jeongguk shakes his head, still kissing you. Barely parts from your lips when he says, "Shush, shush, shush, baby. Quiet for me."
When he pushes a second finger into you, your brows furrow, but the whine you're dying to sound out just vibrates into his mouth.
"Attagirl," he praises as his fingers begin to pump inside of you. Deepening his kisses, Jeongguk strokes his tongue against yours, as if your body was just made for him to claim. Signed, sealed, delivered: his. Your hips roll into his movements, but it's not enough.
As much as he wants to keep you plugged, Jeongguk wants easy access more.
Pulling his fingers from your cunt, there's a satisfied grin on his pretty lips when you whine.
"Shush," he says with such affection it could make even the coldest heart thaw. Dipping slightly, he hooks his forearms just beneath your ass and swiftly lifts you up. Gets you perched up on the counter. Spreads your legs, and is pleased when you lift the hem of the baggy shirt you're wearing to fully reveal your pussy to him.
"Look at you, gorgeous," he husks. Genuinely thinks he might die just from looking at your cunt. Too perfect. Too fuckin' nice. Stroking his still-wet fingers up your folds, he wastes no time sinking two fingers into you once more. "Quiet, baby."
"Room," you breathlessly say, desperately trying not to make any sounds that could give yourselves away. "Don't wanna be quiet. Take me to your room."
Jeongguk just smirks. Looks in your pretty eyes and challenges you. "Say chess. I'm not going to my room, but you can say chess."
He knows there's absolutely no way in hell you're saying chess.
Narrowing your eyes, you reach to the front of his shorts, and stroke his hard cock through the fabric. If he's gonna make this hard for you, then you're gonna do it right back.
"If you're gonna torture me then you may as well do it right," you feign a little boredom, tugging his shorts down just enough to play with him over his boxers. "Your fingers are nothing, baby." A lie, but that's neither here nor there. "Make things difficult for me. Make it impossible for me to keep quiet."
"You really want Jimin to find out, huh?" Jeongguk teases, still playing on the idea that you've ever managed to convince anyone that you are, in fact, just friends. "You want him to know that we fuck?"
But then Jeongguk glances over your shoulder to the doorway that leads into Jimin's room, as the click of his latch goes. Jeongguk barely has enough time to pull his fingers from you, and definitely not enough time to pull his shorts back up over his boxer-covered boner, so instead, he presses up against you to keep himself covered. Thank God he's behind the island and not anywhere else.
If you thought it was torture before, then now must be a whole new level, just a few layers of fabric keeping you apart.
"It lingers, y'know," the grouchy voice of Jimin echoes from behind you.
Turning your head, thighs squeezing against Jeongguk's hips to keep his dignity protected, you try to hide your embarrassment.
Jeongguk's hands rest on your thighs, and the one that's out of sight to Jimin is being wiped against your skin to rid his fingers of your arousal. This could have been so much worse than what it is.
"The smell of sex," he adds with a little disdain. "I always knew."
As if the God of Thunder personally gave birth to him, Jimin's face is stormy as can be. His scowl is so deeply ingrained into his expression that you're certain the wind must have changed in his direction as he was first pulling the face. Whatever you drank last night, he must have had it too.
Hair all haphazard, face a little dewey from a warm slumber, there's an unusual dishevelled nature to Jimin. He's not even bothered to put on clothes. Is quite literally in just a pair of boxers.
It's quite unlike him. Then again, so are the hickies on his collarbones.
"Well, that's weird, 'cause me and Jeongguk have never had sex," you reply without even thinking, the lies ingrained into your reflexes at this point. Even Jeongguk looks at you with confusion this time.
"Firstly, we eat off that counter, sickos. And secondly, I heard," Jimin simply assures you both, walking to the counter and picking up a plastic fork. He sticks it into a chunk of the french toast, and doesn't ask permission. Just chows down on it. Speaks with his mouth full. "Like, so many times. In fact, I've heard you at it so many times I can almost predict what's happening when."
"Bullshit," Jeongguk laughs—and he'd be right. Jimin's never heard, not properly at least, unless you count the muffled groans in Pohang that put him off his food for an entire day. He just hates the embarrassment of being walked in upon by the pair of you. The one time he needed privacy the most and he didn't even think to bolt the door—or better yet, go to his own bloody bedroom. He wants you to know what his embarrassment feels like. Jeongguk is unphased, though. "Nabi still here?"
"Shut up," Jimin replies, pulling the rest of the french toast towards him, closing the lid. He narrows his eyes, then snatches the box right up. Holds it to his chest. Scowls at you both. Turns on his heel and returns to his room, grinning now that you can't see him, shutting the door behind himself.
Neither of you stop him.
"Is he…"
"Okay?" Jeongguk finishes off your query. "No idea."
But one thing for certain is that Nabi's possessions are still very much inside the apartment. She's still here, and you're willing to bet he shut the door with a smile, holding his stolen breakfast with all the triumph of a cat who got the cream.
"On that note," you begin to tangent off, knowing you've already wasted too much of the day. "You okay to drive? Or would you rather take the subway?"
"Subway," Jeongguk immediately responds, reaching over to take a sip of his coffee. "Don't wanna risk it."
And he also wants any excuse he can find to spend time with you. Takes three times as long to get to The Ryu on public transport than it does in his car, especially with how he drives.
"Alright," you don't argue against him or bother suggesting a taxi instead. "And am I cool to leave my things here? I'll pick them up next time—"
"You know you don't need to ask," Jeongguk grins, the ring in the corner of his mouth flipping ever so slightly in that heavenly way it so often does.
"Well, yeah, but—"
"Keep it here," he says. "Don't take your stuff home next time. Leave it. I'll clear a drawer. Some hangers."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nudges his nose up against yours. "You've been leaving glitter here for months. May as well move onto something more substantial."
As if your heart isn't enough.
"Plus," he considers. "At least that way you can stop stealing all my favourite shirts."
"You love it when I wear your shirts."
"B, I love it when you wear nothing at all," he smirks. "Clothes have nothing to do with it. But on that note, go put some clothes on so we can actually do something with our day."
Reluctantly, you agree.
And just as reluctantly, he lets you go.
The subway is always crowded at this time of day. Jeongguk insists you sit while he stands in front of you, holding on to the railing that runs overhead. It's a small kindness—the kind you never really thought about until you met him and learned how lovely it is to have someone actually care about your comfort and well-being.
He doesn't spend the journey on his phone like so many of the other commuters. Instead, he focuses on the windows, and the small glimpses indicating where you are along the subway line. Occasionally he'll look down at you and smile. Though you're not sleeping, your eyes are closed, cutting out the harsh lights of the tin can you're situated inside. You've never been more desperate for your bed.
Once you reach your stop, Jeongguk tightly scoots in behind you on the escalators.
"We can have a quiet night in," he softly promises. His hand rubs at your waist, and the elevated position of your body allows him to press a kiss to your shoulder.
Even despite the fabric of your shirt—one that belongs to him, of course—it still feels like a star is burning through your very being.
Nodding, you place your hand over his and squeeze ever so gently. Reciprocate his warmth.
You don't mean to be so grouchy and unexpressive, the hangover just really is killing you. If it wasn't for the video Jeongguk insisted on assessing after waking you up this morning, you might not have even recalled exactly just how raunchy you'd been with him at Dionysus.
Fucking someone at work had always been one of his covert fantasies; the kind of thing he wanted to do just so he could say that he had. Wouldn't mind leaving the box next to it unchecked on his mental to-do list. Would happily do it all over again.
His notice has been handed in, though. Dionysus is no longer his place of work. His contract runs until the end of the month, but he saved up holiday time. Never has to go back, if he doesn't want to.
As his fingers squeeze a little tighter on your waist, he can't help but wonder if he's making the right choices. He's been comfortable at Dionysus. Wasn't making great money, but was making enough.
But when you squeeze your hand over his, he knows it doesn't matter. He can make all the bad decisions in the world as long as he doesn't make any that'd result in him losing you.
The weather's slowly been getting warmer over the past few weeks. As you exit the subway station, the sun confronts you with such aggression that you almost stumble from the impact of her punch.
"I'm never drinking again," you whine, bringing the hand of yours that's holding his up to cover your eyes a little. He lets you dictate his movement freely.
"You say that every time," Jeongguk reminds you, playfully nudging into your side, before rounding the corner up towards the gallery. "C'mon. Fake it till you make it. Pretend you don't have one."
"Impossible."
The remainder of the morning is slow. Every time you glance at the clock, it seems only a few minutes have passed.
Cataloguing and processing the sales of art from the night before is laborious. It takes a lot of mental energy that you can't seem to conjure up.
Jeongguk doesn't really know how to help, but he is far stronger than you. Does all the heavy lifting as you prepare various canvases for shipping.
Eventually, he's left twiddling his thumbs, so you insist he heads straight to the gym.
"I'll meet you after," you tell him, as you sit on the floor of the gallery, crossed-legged, a pencil behind your ear and a million documents scattered around you. Jeongguk has no idea how you can work in such chaos. Finds himself getting stressed out by it.
It takes a solid fifteen minutes of assuring him you'd be fine on your own, but eventually he leaves for the gym. The way you see it, the quicker you both get your tasks for the day done, the quicker you can go back to yours, make some dinner, and call it a night.
"Call me when you're done, yeah?" He says, lingering by the door because he just can't bear to leave you. As the sunlight peers in through the windows, small speckles of glitter sparkle on his skin. "I'll come meet you halfway."
With an ever-sincere smile, you just laugh. "Go."
Finally doing as he's told, Jeongguk walks backwards until you're out of sight. Feels his heart physically ache in his chest. Doesn't understand why he's so damn pathetic all of the time when it comes to you, just knows he wouldn't change it for the world.
Despite the solitude of an empty gallery, you're perfectly content. The lingering scent of paint and paper isn't too far removed from your place of work. Makes it easy to imagine a life where this could be your work.
Devoting yourself to this is easy. Passion has always yielded a higher reward for you than wages, so you don't mind burning the candle at both ends.
The situation is becoming strained at best, you know. Eventually, something will have to give.
For now, though, you finish off your jobs. Arrange couriers to pick up the artworks sold, and make sure the names and numbers match the deposits with a copy of Jeongguk's business account bank statement, of which you made him print out for you.
"I can just log into my bank on your phone," Jeongguk had shrugged when you'd first asked him for it, seemingly not realising just how insane he sounded. When he clocked your look of bewilderment, he laughed. "What? It's not like you're gonna run off with all the money."
While this is true, looking at the sheer amount of money in there could make you cry. It's all so attainable now; Jeongguk's dreams and a reality in which they come true.
So engrossed in your own thoughts, you almost jump out of your skin when a knock sounds at the doorway into the office.
"Sorry," Shinwon hums ever so pleasantly, a smile on his face, thoroughly bemused by how startled you look. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"No, no," you shake your head, endearingly playing off your embarrassment. "I just didn't expect to see you here! Or see anyone here, for that matter."
Between exhibitions, the gallery will be closed for the next couple of weeks. It's partially to allow for the staff to reset, but mainly to allow for careful considerations of how the space will be used.
As Jina's maternity leave cover, it's Shinwon's job, but you're yet to see any plans from him. You don't even know which artists are due to be showcased. She did say that a new vacancy would probably open up around this time, and if Shinwon doesn't start putting some tangible hard work in, you wouldn't be surprised if it's sooner rather than later.
There's been no mention of it, though. The big bosses don't seem to care about his underperformance, probably 'cause they know he's temporary.
"Just coming by to drop something off," he explains, holding up a small white envelope. Pressing it down on the desk, he looks uncertain, as if there are words dancing on the tip of his tongue. "It went well last night, didn't it?"
With a tight-lipped smile, you nod. Feel your cheeks swell. "Yeah. Went really well."
"Good," he nods. Is about to leave. Pauses when he reaches the door, and awkwardly turns to face you. Nods towards the letter on the desk. "There's gonna be a position opening up soon. You should apply. I'll put in a good word."
Furrowing your brows, you glance over the white envelope, then back to Shinwon. "But they're not hiring any—"
"Letter of resignation," he concedes with a tight-lipped smile. "I've got an overseas opportunity that I don't wanna pass on. I'll work my two weeks, but then there'll be a position to fill until Jina is back from maternity."
By overseas opportunity, he really means that some of his private school buddies are going travelling, and he wants in on the fun. This was always an opportunity of convenience for Shinwon. He was never passionate about it. Not like you are.
"Apply," he encourages. "You basically do my job as it is for free, anyway. May as well get paid for it if you can."
He doesn't stay to chitchat. Probably won't even remember your existence once he heads off on his trip. Was never in this for the right reasons.
You've resented him on plenty of occasions. Been annoyed at the fact he does fuck all and gets paid for it. Yet the idea of actually filling his (albeit incredibly small) shoes is fear-inducing.
A job at the gallery would be the first step to actually doing what you love for a living—being around art and artists. Sure, you could argue that the art cafe gives you that, but a highschooler nervously painting by numbers on a first date has nothing on the works that you see here.
There's joy to be found in your current job, though. Fun. Safety. Home.
But nothing remarkable ever happened to people who choose to remain comfortable.
Quickly finishing your to-do list, all you want to do is speak to Jeongguk about it. See what he thinks. You know it's a no-brainer. You have nothing to lose. You just want him to give you the green light that you're making the right choices.
The headache you've been battling is weak in comparison to your racing thoughts, now. You're thinking of the possibilities—of all of your hard work actually being for something. You've proven to the gallery that you can bring in punters, and that you can utilise their resources for profit.
It's always been a case of who you know, not what you know, but you know the gallery, now. They know you.
It could really happen.
By the time you reach the gym, fantasies of a life with a staff ID card and access to the archives, you can't stop smiling. It'd change your life. Flip it upside down in the best of ways.
The gym is just the same as it always has been. There's a new girl behind the front desk. Not someone you recognise. Smiling as she greets you, she's keen to help, long dark hair tied into a ponytail, her branded shirt tight to her curves. You're reminded that the gym is a breeding ground for beauty, but it doesn't matter. You'll get your cardio in later beneath your sheets.
She's also got the kind of smile that you just can't help but reciprocate.
"I don't have a membership," you begin to explain, knowing just how troublesome it was on your first ever visit and not wanting a repeat of it. There's no way you're paying for a month, 'cause now you don't need it as an excuse just to see Jeongguk. You also can't help but overcompensate, and give far too many details in an awkward, endearing mess of an explanation. "Well, I mean, I used to have one so my details are probably on the system. Sorry, not important. I know you guys don't do day passes—"
Furrowing her brows, she kindly interrupts. "We do."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," she says, nodding towards a sign in the corner of the countertop. Clear as day, daily and weekly memberships are listed. "We've done them for as long as I've been here. Don't think it's a new policy. Anyway, happy to help—just a day membership?"
Jiyeong might be a distant memory now, but thoughts of her will never fail to irritate you.
"Yeah please," you smile regardless, sliding your card out from your pocket—and then you're over explaining again. Probably habit from the Jiyeong era. Is also probably why you make a point to mention Jeongguk by a title only you have the privilege to use. "I'm just joining my boyfriend for a session. He's—"
"Oh, he's a member?" she chirps, not rude in her interruption but efficient.
"Yeah," you nod, and are about to mention him by name, but the girl speaks too quickly again.
"Oh, you should have said! Members get a monthly plus one. It's not a free session, but it's half price, so better than nothing," she smiles. "I'll just need his gym ID—or name, I can search the system—so I can put it through."
You know she really ought to ask Jeongguk's permission. You could be any random woman.
But you're not, and so you tell her. "Jeon Jeongguk?"
"Ah," she nods, vaguely aware of his existence. Unlike Jiyeong, she hasn't spent a substantial amount of time fawning over Jeongguk. To her, he's just another dude who comes in and leaves her alone. She appreciates it, given how some guys can be, but she also doesn't care to reward bare minimum.
She asks you to confirm his phone number, which you can do without issue, so at least there's some level of security in place.
It's a perfectly pleasant exchange, and it thankfully rids you of woes you didn't even realise you had. The Jieyong debacle had left a mark on you, but it feels like it's been rubbed clean. Your mind tends to jump to thoughts of her whenever he goes to the gym, and so at least you can sleep well knowing that the new girl isn't interested in any way shape or form.
Buzzing you through, she tells you to enjoy yourself—but as you start heading up the stairs to the main gym section, you already feel your regret looming. A hangover is still a hangover.
You clock Jeon Jeongguk almost immediately. How anyone isn't immediately drawn to him, you'll never understand. Just finishing up with some weights, he's re-racking the ones he's used, skin glowing with sweat.
There's a beauty to seeing him like this. Primal desires.
Glancing up to the mirrored wall behind the rack, Jeongguk eyes are on yours just as quickly. It's like you're magnets, destined to meet.
A confused smile etches into his exhausted face, brows furrowing as he turns to face you.
"What are you doing here?" He mouths, head puppy-like in the way it tilts.
Shrugging your shoulders, you walk towards him. Mouth, "I just love the gym."
"Liar," he simpers when you're within earshot, reaching his hand out for you to take so he can pull you closer, of which he immediately does.
One hand clasped in his, your other hand rests on his still-heaving torso. He's gone hard today, to make up for the night before. His compression shirt is silky beneath the palms of your hands, the strong ridges and contours of his body yours to hold. Other people can look all they like. None of them get to feel. Not like you do.
As he looks down at you, there's a softness to his gaze. A smile that he doesn't care to hide. A sparkle in his eyes that shines even out of direct light. Just a consequence of looking at a star.
"You shouldn't be here," he quietly hums. "We both know you hate it."
"I can go, if you like?"
Jeongguk just shakes his head. Smiles as he turns you both around and begins to walk backwards, pulling you with him.
"You're the one who hated being here," he reminds you. "I loved you being here."
"Obsessed," you grin, gingerly letting him drag you anywhere he likes. "And good, 'cause I used your monthly plus one."
"Yeah," he confirms, ignoring the curious glances of other people in the room as he leads you back to your old 'spot'. "Thought we'd established that already? And that's fine. Use it every month."
Funny, how you used to hypothesise over the lives of other people in this very room, and how you know others must be doing the same for you now. You hope they all think you're besotted with him.
When you look at him like that, all love drunk and starry-eyed, how could they not?
"Was just about to finish up, anyway," Jeongguk tells you, heading in the direction of the treadmills. Glances back to you, then nods in their direction. "For old times sake?"
"For old times sake," you beam, following his lead, stepping up onto the treadmill closest to you. They're all vacant, but Jeongguk steps up on the one beside yours, 'cause of course he does. He'd go on the same one as you, if it were possible.
God, he loves you being here. Can't stop smiling.
You don't mention the potential job opening. For old times sake.
Instead, you revel in what it used to be like whenever you came to the gym, 'cause it just makes you so much more grateful for what you've become. Like Dionysus, these four walls saw the groundwork of your relationship being laid.
You've already lost access to one of the most important places to you both with Jeongguk leaving the club.
If you change jobs, you'll lose the art cafe, too. The lease is coming up soon on your place, and if Danbi chooses to just move in with Tae, that'll be another safe haven gone. One by one, places of your past are closing their doors to usher you forward into new spaces.
Life can't always stay the same. Change is needed. Necessary.
You've changed. So has Jeongguk. You'll continue to change for years to come.
The difference now is that you'll change together. Adapt. Merge, in some ways, just like a pair of orbiting stars so often do.
On the way home, Jeongguk picks up a bunch of wildflowers from the market stall he once bought you apology flowers from. His fingers are intertwined with yours as he pays, hands lightly swinging.
It dawns on you all rather quickly, as Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip and waits for the payment to go through, that maybe this is a change that you needn't fight. Perhaps it's okay to look forward to your future instead of being hung up on the past.
"C'mon," he tugs on your hand as you leave the market stall, encouraging you to gain a little momentum. "I'm starving. If we don't get me food soon, I'll turn into you with a hangover."
"Cute?"
"Oh, so close," he grins, then shakes his head. "But no. Grouchy and unbearable."
"You were practically begging to shag me," you remind him. "Can't have minded that much."
Jeongguk can't argue against this one. "I didn't—but working out increases like… all the hormones that were working overtime this morning. If I don't eat soon I might die, but if I don't shag you soon, I also might die. Honestly it's a lose-lose situation, B. There's only one solution."
"Sixty-nine?" You offer, 'cause it's perfectly logical. He gets to eat while you get him off. A win-win, you'd argue.
"You're a disgusting pervert," he tells you with stern sharpness, paired with a smirk he just can't help, as if he totally wasn't angling for you to say it. "But now that you mention it, yes. That'd be ideal."
"I don't shag boys who call me disgusting," you reply, knowing that he absolutely didn't mean it like that. You just like winding him up.
"I'm pretty sure I've called you worse before," he reminds you, then holds the flowers out in front of you both. "These can double as apology flowers instead of just my-girlfriend-is-really-pretty-and-I-love-her flowers."
You narrow your eyes as you look across to him, but the smile on his face is just too hard to resist. Thin lipped, his dimples are present, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth.
It's like his lip ring does the thing and you're reduced to jelly.
"Lucky you're cute," you grumble.
"You can thank my mum for that one," he offers, fully aware of how often people would coo over his cuteness as a child and then proceed to tell his mum how similar they are. "And for how pretty I am, too."
Though he's just joking, he's right. He really is the prettiest man you've ever known, inside and out.
You won't tell him this, though. Would give him far too much negotiation power.
"Who do I thank for how annoying you are?"
“Jimin,” Jeongguk says. "That's a learned behaviour. Nurture over nature."
"Figures," you accept, before tugging on Jeongguk's hand to lead him into a grocery store. "I've got nothing in. Need to pick up food or else you'll be going hungry."
"I thought we already agreed on six—"
"A little decorum please," you cut him off. "We're in a public space."
"You said it first!"
Playfully shrugging, you let go of his hand and grab a basket as you enter. "Watcha fancy?"
"You."
"For dinner, idiot."
"B," Jeongguk sighs as if he really is hard done by. "We've already discussed this. Literally, you."
"Shut up," you laugh, and let the shopping trip descend into chaos.
Jeongguk just puts whatever catches his eyes into the basket. Gets a kinder egg and a hot wheels car. Will surely just run it over the curves of your body when you're in bed later that evening. Also gets an entire pineapple, and when you raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs.
"If I don't have a snack before I shower I will die," he assures you. "I'm craving a burger, so you should really be thanking me for the noble sacrifice I'm making. It benefits us both."
"You're an idiot."
"Fine, I'll get a burger."
But when he goes to put the pineapple back, you stop him. Smile. Say, "Pineapple is good."
"That's what I thought," he stands tall and proud, chest puffed, head tilted back. He looks like an asshole but god damn, does he look good doing so. As he peers down at you, you know it'll be a miracle if you even make it to the shower by the time you get home. Want him too bad.
"Stop bickering," you tell him. "Quicker we get home, the quicker we can—"
"Say no more," he nods, taking the basket from you, then zooming off up the aisle. "C'mon, B! Places to be! People to see!"
As he darts off to the next aisle, all you can do is wonder how on earth this is your life.
But it is—and when you finally find him again, standing in line to pay, basket full to the brim from his supermarket sweep, you know that all these changes happening around you really don't matter as long as you have him.
"Alright," you quietly say as you stand beside him, flicking open your phone and heading for your taxi hailing app. "I'll order a taxi. Don't want you to die on the way home."
"Teamwork," Jeongguk smiles.
"It makes the dream work, or so I heard," you hum with a somewhat smug smile, pleased to be getting exactly what you want: time spent with Jeongguk away from the prying eyes of the three fates.
"Yeah," he quietly says, leaning over to press a kiss against the side of your head. "It sure does."
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Adventures in Cooling
The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.
It was almost... too good?
Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.
None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.
I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.
At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."
End of advice.
Oh, and the uniform.
The uniform was very silly.
Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.
The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.
He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.
I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.
This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.
Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.
And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.
He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.
Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.
This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."
And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.
Diabolical.
But the good news... my house is cold as heck.
And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.
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Hong's Anatomy: Prologue
Pediatrician surgeon! Joshua x pediatric surgeon! Female Reader
Synopsis: Coming to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital wasn’t on your bucket list, that’s for sure, but when you meet the head of your department, Joshua Hong, it's one of the only things that constantly brightens your day.
Warnings: swearing, made up medical terms and procedures, i have no idea if any of this is medically accurate it’s just for story, flirting, no smut…yet?
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“This is OR 2. It’s right down the hall from the CT room,” Rose said, leading you down the hallway and letting you peek your head into the OR room. “Do you have any questions?”
“No, not right now. I’m a little overwhelmed, to be honest,” you smiled, trying to break the ice with the head Peds nurse. She smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder.
“Its totally okay to feel overwhelmed, we’re a little overwhelmed as well. It’s been a while since we’ve had two Peds attendings, but you seem sweet, I’m sure you and Doctor Hong will get along greatly.”
You had heard about Doctor Joshua Hong. He was a world renowned pediatrician who was desired all over the world. He was handsome, talented, and apparently very caring and nice towards all his patients.
“Is he here today? Doctor Hong?” You ask as Rose nods, handing you a tablet.
“He'll introduce himself a little bit later, he’s in surgery at the moment.”
In the meantime, Rose taught you how to operate the computers and system regarding patients and how to properly log. At around noon Rose left for her lunch break, leaving you to learn how to work things on your own. You were in the middle of trying to figure out how to look at patient files when you heard a voice over your shoulder.
“Doctor L/N?”
You looked up from your tablet to come face to face with none-other than the man himself. Joshua Hong.
“Doctor Hong,” you smiled at him, standing up and offering your hand, “it’s nice to meet you!”
“You too, I’ve heard great things about you,” he smiled back, shaking your hand before pointing to the tablet. “Do you need a hand? Where’s Rose?”
“She went to lunch, she did teach me how to access patient files, but it’s been a long day, and I’m a little bit overwhelmed,” you chuckled.
“That’s fair, the first day at a new job is always a lot, but you seem like your handling everything pretty well,” he said, taking a seat next to you and turning his attention to the tablet, not noticing the blush that arose on your cheeks. He slowly went through how to view and edit patient files and made sure that you understood how to do it yourself.
“I think people forget that this is a teaching hospital and that even the attendings need some help once in a while,” he said, standing up and looking at his watch. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you.”
“Y/N!” You spun around to see Joshua running up to you as you left the hospital. “How was the first shift? Wanna back out, because you can’t after today?”
“You too, and thank you again,” you replied as you exchanged smiles before you watched him rush down the hall. Leaving you with a beating heart and flushed cheeks.
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“It was good, but god. I need a drink; I’m stressed.” You laugh, looking up at Joshua to see a glimmer in his eye.
“Do you wanna go to Joe’s? It’s right across the street; it’s kinda the place all the surgeons go after work. It has cheap, shitty beer,” he asked, as you pondered his question. Did you have work tomorrow, and joke about getting drunk? Yes. But did you want to get to know and spend some time with your new co-worker? Also yes.
“Sure, lead the way.”
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“Joe! I’ll take two beers please!” Joshua exclaimed as you both approached the bar.
“Coming right u… Who is this Hong? Finally managed to score a date?” Joe teased as Joshua’s eyes widened and carefully looked over at you.
“Joe,” Joshua warned, “no, this is my new coworker. Y/N.”
“I see. Well, if you do wanna date Joshua, you’ll be doing us all a favor. I haven’t seen him on a date in all the years he’s lived here.”
“Yeah, yeah, just get us our beers please,” Joshua chuckled and rolled his eyes, “don’t listen to him,”
“You’ve been on a date recently?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as Joe handed you a beer, causing Joshua to stutter a little bit.
“Uhh, no. Not recently, but I’ve lived here for six years,” Joshua emphasized, looking at Joe, who just chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “What about you? When was the last time you went on a date?”
“Woah, we just met,” you joked, taking a sip of your beer.
“Fine,” Joshua sighed, “Why did you choose to come to Grey Slone then? I’ve read your work, you've done amazing things, you could of gone anywhere?”
“ The answer I’m gonna tell you is that I like the idea of a teaching hospital and that I think there should be more out there,” you answered.
“What’s the answer you’d tell someone else?” Joshua asked, taking a sip of his beer.
“That I get to work with Joshua Hong, and that I’ve admired him for years and jumped at the opportunity to work with him,” you blush, “but don’t tell him that.”
Joshua chuckled and set down his beer, fully facing you now. "Well, I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”
Before anything else could happen, a whole bunch of guys came rushing into the bar and went to greet Joshua.
“Joshua!”
“What’s up!”
“What surgery did you have today?”
“Guys, slow down. I’m here with someone,” Joshua chuckles, trying to soothe the twelve men.
"Oh, sorry,” a tall man with dark hair and puppy eyes said, turning to face you. “I’m Mingyu, we all work with Joshua. We don’t mean to be rude…”
“It’s okay guys, she’s the new peds attending,” Joshua interrupts as all their faces lighten.
“You must be Doctor L/N! Josh told us about the new peds attending.” The man with longer hair spoke up, “I’m Jeonghan, I work in Plastic’s.”
“I’m sorry that they interrupted us, they’re just excited to meet you,” he whispers, watching Sonyoung chug a whole can of beer.
The whole group ended up going around and introducing themselves, their specialities, and ordering their own drinks to join you. While Soonyoung was telling a story, Joshua turned to you and leaned in.
“It’s okay, I mean technically they’re my co-workers as well.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Stop flirting and listen to my story!” Soonyoung interrupted, as you too jumped apart from each other and awkwardly laughed at being caught.
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The rest of the night was filled with laughter, alcohol, and lingering glances back and forth between you and the head pediatrician.
“Good morning!” Rose cheerfully greeted you as you made your way to the desk, coffee in hand. “Rough night?”
“You could say that,” you muttered, setting down your bag and taking off your coat. After getting home, you tried to go to sleep, you really did. But the idea of seeing your first patient and seeing Joshua again in the morning was enough to keep you up the whole night.
“Are you ready for your first patient?” Lia, one of the other nurses in the ward, asked, watching you chug your coffee.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, before marching over to the first room where the patient and your surgical interns were waiting. “Good morning Miss Abigail, how are you today?”
“Poor Abigail is a little scared today for her surgery,” her mother confessed. Abigail nodded, but didn’t say anything and reached out to hold her mothers hand. “She hasn’t spoken a word all morning.”
“That’s normal, it’s pretty scary, but you’re going to go to sleep and then wake up with your mom right by your side. That’s not scary right?” You ask, watching Abigail shake her head.
“Knock, Knock,” you whip your head around to see Joshua leaning against the doorframe and waving to Abigail. “I wanted to see you before you go into surgery.”
“You know Abigail?” You ask, as Joshua nods.
“I was the one who did Abigail’s first surgery. I didn’t know that you were back, what’s wrong?” He smiled softly at Abigail before turning to her mother with a more concerned face.
“It’s her other valve this time, the doctor said that it wasn’t growing because of calcium build up,” her mother quickly responds before you can. Joshua’s eyebrows rise in surprise.
“Really, I thoughtI had checked the other valve last time,” he muttered.
“It’s not your fault Doctor Hong. The doctor said that it was a very quick build up and that you couldn’t have known,” she smiled, “we were wondering if you were going to stop by once we heard it wasn't you doing her surgery.”
“Of course! I also came by to check up on Doctor L/N. It’s her first case here!” Joshua smiled, as you noticed Abigail's mother form a look of concern on her face. “Don’t worry though, she came all the way from Seoul, South Korea to take care of people. It’s one of the best hospitals in the world. You, Abigail, are in very safe hands,” he reassured.
“Thank you Doctor Hong,” you chuckled before turning to the nurses to prepare Abagail for her surgery. A few minutes later, you informed Abigail and her parents that it was time to go up for her surgery and excused yourself to let her parent’s have a few moments alone.
“Excited?” Joshua asked, as you nodded, handing your tablet back to the counter.
“I'm a little bit nervous as well. She seems like a sweet girl,” you sighed, spinning around to see Joshua leaning against the counter.
“She is. But I know that she’s in good hands,” he smiled. It helped calm you down a little bit knowing that Joshua believed in you, you really needed the verbal support. After a few minutes Joshua left to start his rounds and first surgery of the day, leaving you to head up to the OR.
“Hi Abby, we’re going to help you fall asleep now okay?” Abby nodded, and let Rose put the mask to her face and fell asleep in a little under thirty seconds. You sighed looking at the little girl who’s entire life was in your hands and took a deep breath before holding our hand out for a scalpel, “let’s get started.”
Halfway through your surgery, you looked up at the gallery to see Joshua sitting front and center, cup of coffee in hand and smiling from ear to ear. This was the first time you’ve worked with other people watching you this closely, so having so many eyes on you was a little nerve wracking, but thankfully the mask and scrubs you were wearing could hide the deep flush of your cheeks when looking at Joshua one last time.
“Jonah, suction a little more to the right please,” you asked right before the monitor started beeping.
“What happened?” Jonah asked, as your eyes widened.
“Shit, the calcium stuck to the valve wall and tore some skin from the valve, she’s bleeding through the valve. More suction! And can I get some lining?” The nurses in the room quickly started running around and one eventually handed you a sheet of lining that you carefully placed over the torn piece of skin.
“Green, you hold this here while I stick the lining,” you ordered, while Joshua was watching everything take place. He was impressed at how quickly you had problems solved. Torn skin wasn’t very common in surgeries like this and he was quite impressed on how quickly you came up with the solution. He watched you quickly, but thoroughly stitch the lining to the valve’s wall and waited to see if she would stop bleeding out. A few seconds later, the monitor stopped rapidly beeping, which meant that the lining had worked.
“Abigail's Surgery went well. We managed to clear the valve of all the calcium build up and replace the valve with one that should match her age,” you explained to Abigail's mother who was waiting in the waiting room. “She’s being taken back to her room right now, so when they get her settled they’ll come and get you and you can go right in and be with her.”
“Well done Doctor, L/N.” Doctor Green said, as you nodded and continued the rest of the surgery.
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“Thank you so much,” Abigail’s mother smiled, as you nodded and then excused yourself. You made your way to the desk and watched as the nurse told Abigail's mother that she could sit with her and watched her cry as she walked into the room.
“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice from behind you inquired. It was Joshua, you knew that, but you still turned around to face him and shrugged.
“It’s moments like that that made me want to do Peds. I’ll never get tired of it.” Joshua smiles and nods. You both stand in silence for a few minutes watching as Abigail wakes up and gets a big hug from her mother.
“You did an amazing job by the way. That was a great recovery with the lining.” You shrug again and turn your attention back to your tablet.
“Thank you, just protocol. Would you have done the same thing?”
“Probably not, I don’t know what I would have done. I’ve never experienced a tear in the valve like that,” Joshua confessed, “ my first thought was to just clamp it, but that’s as far as I got.”
“Well clamping it would have stopped the bleeding temporarily, but we can’t stitch her back up with a clamp,” you chuckled, slightly poking fun at Joshua.
“I know, I’m just saying that it was genius of you to think that quickly and that efficiently,” he teased back. You noticed a few nurses looking your way and smiling at your teasing and tried your best not to blush again.
“Do you want to go to Joe’s again after work? I noticed you don’t have to come in tomorrow, and I’m on call, so hopefully I can get out for a bit?” You asked, putting the tablet down and fully facing the doctor.
“Couldn’t get enough of me?” Joshua asked, flexing one of his biceps playfully.
“No, I just know your schedule since it’s plastered up on the wall,” you rolled your eyes, “I can take it back?”
“No no, I’d love to get a drink with you after work.”
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taglist: @asasilentreader , @myjaeyunn
#seventeen fic#joshua x y/n#joshua hong#seventeen fanfic#joshua hong fluff#joshua x reader#joshua angst#greys anatomy#hong jisoo#Hong's Anatomy#seventeen x reader#joshua hong x reader#seventeen series
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salvatore part 3.0
richie jerimovich x reader
warnings: age gap, cheating (eventually) (guys it's for the plot i swear), drugs mentioned, swearing.
guys this part is gonna be divided into two bc it didn't fit into one post :< they've been posted at the same time, u can find part 3.5 on my acc! thanks 4 all the love cuties <3
most people would call richie an asshole, it was just his nature y'know? how he walked around with that smirk you couldn't wipe off his face, fucking with cousin, trying to 'man the ship' and take control with his abrasive voice and attitude. after you got hired at the beef though, everyone wondered to what extent of an asshole richie really was. carmy and tina were on his ass the most, gifting him a quick smack on the shoulder or upside the head whenever they caught him staring at you, eyes trailing you out the door. they knew he could be an asshole, obviously, but they wondered if he was really the type of guy to take one look at your gleaming eyes and full cheeks and not be able to help himself. everyone in the kitchen called you 'baby', there was no avoiding how obviously young you were. richie knew, of course he knew, the way you looked up at him through your long lashes. the bags under your eyes nowhere near as dark and deep as his or carmy's. you were achingly sweet, and it killed him. when you smiled at him, bidding him his daily 'good morning, richie!' he felt his teeth rot in his mouth. like he wanted to store you away in his pocket and never let anyone ruin that sparkle you held behind your eyes. yet at the same time, if it was up to him, he could be the one to do it. a reminder he felt every time he played with the ring on his left hand. god, he could ruin your life if you let him. it's not like actively wanted to, but whenever he caught a glimpse of the sun hitting your soft skin he felt something intangible. so when you came up behind the alley and sat next to him on your first day, and he saw the way your glossed lips wrapped around his cigarette he knew he couldn't help himself, he wouldn't. he saw it that day, a part of you is sick enough to want this too. from that point on, you play along. his sweet names for you, soft touches, like he wanted to guide you, teach you.
"tell baby she can't be ringing in the orders all at once, cousin!" carmy yelled over at richie through the expo. "well maybe if you picked up the pace, did the damn system the way it's meant to be done you'd get it done, cousin." richie yells back rolling his eyes, he was being stubborn about all of carmen's new 'rules'. "just tell her, asshole!". richie threw his hands up, exiting the kitchen to find you ringing in orders on the new tablet that only you can seem to figure out. he comes up beside you, gently pulling your hand off the screen. you turn, recognizing richie's strong cigarette and minty aroma. "cousin's being a little bitch so i'm just gonna need you to slow down on ringing in orders. alright, sweetheart?" he nods his head towards you. "oh shit, i'm sorry richie i forgot you guys were short staffed today! if you want i can help back there-" richie chuckles at you stumbling over your words. "no no, don't worry about it, doll. you keep your pretty little self up here-" he grabs your shoulders facing you back towards your tables, "and let me worry about what's going on back there". you let out a small laugh and agree, feeling his big hands gripping your shoulders. "keep raking in those tips, baby!" he yells back as he makes his way back into the kitchen. "yo, you told her, cousin?" carmy questions as richie walks back into the hectic kitchen. "yeah fuck off, she's doing great out there. that face brings in the big bucks man" sydney throws her head back at his words, "richie you can't be saying that! i think even the way you look at her is an HR violation." "syd, fuck off, i am HR" he responds with a cocky tone making sydney roll her eyes.
it was a few days after the day of the game, and the little show richie put on to protect you from some drunk asshole. he had laughed to himself the entire way home, imagining your 'boyfriend' picking you up that night. and every night after work as a matter of fact. how you'd go home to him and lay in bed thinking about richie. his hands, the scruff on his face, the shadow his figure casted over you when he stood behind you, the way his gaze imprinted on you, and the way his voice changed when directed towards you. richie could always clock the want in your eyes, almost like you would surrender yourself to whatever would fall from his mouth. finding out about your boyfriend just confirmed his suspicions; you were just the type of girl who's looking for someone to take good care of her.
it was the following friday night after a particularly stressful shift at the beef (when wasn't it) and tina had rounded everyone up, convincing everyone to head to the bar. "ugh, but tina i'm all sweaty" you frowned, always wanting to head out looking your best. "baby throw on a dress and some lipstick and i promise you'll look just fine, mija." she came up to you, reaching up to flatten your fly aways with her small hands. "plus who you trying to look good for anyways, richie?" she laughed but then quickly noticed your red face and paused. "what?" you asked slowly with a nervous tinge. "don't tell me you got the hots for richie, girl." she looked at you, eyebrows as crinkled as ever. after your lack of response she let out a long sig, "ay no, niña. i love that boy, i really do but he is bad news. plus baby he's too old for you, my god, and you're too pretty. no no no you stay away from him." she ranted on before you could even get a word in. "no, tina! i don't, I promise!" you exclaimed, she stared unconvinced, "plus i've got a boyfriend". "hmmm, okay, i'm watching you girl. go get ready." her tone still sounded unconvinced, just a bit more at ease knowing you're at least 'taken'. you quickly composed yourself in the dim fluorescent's of the beef's bathroom as everyone made their way to the bar. slapping on some lipstick, your hoops, and trying to manage as much of your hair as you could. "wepa!! look at you, come on let's go before everyone gets drunk by the time we get there" tina pulls you off into her car.
pt 3.5 up now!!
#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#richie jerimovich#richie jerimovich imagine#richie jerimovich x reader#richie jerimovich x you#sydney adamu#the bear#the bear hulu#the bear imagine#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear fx#sydney x carmy#syd adamu
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Andy Herrera x DeLuca! sister reader. Carina brings her sister to the firehouse and they both secretly fall for each other. Then one day Andy gets hurt on the job and after she is released from the hospital she goes and confesses her feelings to the reader. After secretly dating for about six months the two are caught kissing by both Maya and Carina who both freak out but are happy for the two. Fluffy and angsty, please?
All you need is love
Summary: Meeting your best friend’s girlfriend’s sister.
Pairing: Andy Herrera x DeLuca!reader
Warnings: none
Word count: 1494
a/n: can we talk about how underrated Andy is in her own show??
masterlists | guidelines
Looking around the downstairs of the firehouse, Y/N has an impressed look on her face as she nods. “Your girlfriend is the captain of this place?” She peeks into the barn where the firetrucks are located, letting out a small ooh sound.
“Yes.” Carina laughs, her brows raised as she stares at her younger sister. “You like it?”
“Yeah, it’s cool.” She shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but Carina knows her sister.
Grabbing her arm, Carina starts leading her upstairs. “Let’s go, they’re cooking dinner and we’re joining them.”
Y/N gasps. “Is this one of those situations where your girlfriend tries to make a good impression on me, because you won’t date someone who doesn’t get along with me?” The words come out quickly, at times stumbling over them.
“No.”
“It totally is.”
With a sigh, Carina rolls her eyes. It is that kind of situation. She just doesn’t want to feed Y/N’s ego by letting her know how valuable her opinion is to her. But she knows.
When they walk into the kitchen, Y/N notices Carina’s girlfriend stiffing a pot, having seen a picture of her, but she isn’t the one who takes her attention. A brunette setting the table is. It’s like she can’t take her eyes off of her.
“Carina!” Maya exclaims when she notices them. “You’re here early.” She turns off the stove and walks over to the two, wiping her palms to her pants first.
“Our shift ended early.” Carina kisses her before pulling her near Y/N. “This is Y/N, my sister. This is Maya, my girlfriend.”
“Hi!” Smiling, Y/N shakes Maya’s hand. “Nice to finally meet the famous Captain Maya Bishop. Carina talks about you all the time. Maya is so hot. Maya is so muscular. Look at this picture of h-”
“Y/N!” Carina slaps the back of her head. Giggling, she steps away from Carina’s reach, rubbing the spot she got slapped on. “Behave.”
She rolls her eyes. Maya looks between the two, not sure how she should react to the two sisters. “Uh, it’s great to meet you too.” She points behind her, where the rest of the team is, introducing everyone to Y/N. They all wave and smile, saying their his, but Andy walks up to them.
“Hi!” She shakes Y/N’s hand. “You’re doctor too?” Andy looks at the white doctor’s coat she is wearing.
“Yes, I didn’t want to be the family disappointment by not becoming a doctor.” Carina glares at her, but Y/N ignores her. “I’m in general.”
“Awesome.”
The two stand a little bit too close to each other for someone who just met each other, but the others pay no mind to it. They just finish cooking the food and gather around the table, immeasurable bombarding Y/N with questions.
She answers to them to the best of her ability, though most of her attention is on Andy.
Humming quietly to herself, Y/N looks through the patient files on the tablet. She keeps glancing at her phone, frowning when there’s no new notifications. Her and Andy have been texting nonstop ever since they met, but now, Andy hasn’t answered to her in hours. Usually it doesn’t take her that long even if she’s working.
With a sigh, Y/N pockets her phone and sets the tablet down to a table. She has a surgery in half an hour, but until then there’s really nothing to do.
“Y/N!”
She turns towards the sound, her brows furrowing once she notices Andy walking towards her. “What are you doing here?” She meets her halfway. “Did something happen?”
“There was an accident during a call, but I-“
“Are you okay?” Y/N’s eyes start going up and down Andy’s body, looking for any significant injuries. She has a bandaid near her eye, but nothing else catches her attention.
“I’m okay. I wanted to see y-“
Y/N interrupts her once again, “are you sure? Did you already see someone? I can page someone over.” She takes out her pager, but Andy grabs her hands.
“Y/N, I’m okay. I wanted to see you, because I need to tell you something.” Nodding, Y/N stays quiet, giving her the space to talk. “I have feelings for you,” she starts, her voice quieter now, “and I would really like to take you out on a date.”
A big smile appears on Y/N’s face. “That’d be nice.”
“Okay, great.” Andy nods, smiling too. They look like two lovesick fools in the middle of the hospital hallway. “I’ll pick you up today at eight?” She raises one of her brows. “Wear something casual.”
“Got it.” Grabbing the tablet again, Y/N starts backing up slowly. “I have a surgery to go to, but I’ll see you today.”
Andy waves with a grin before walking away, feeling victorious.
Knocking on the door frame, Y/N walks into the locker room. “Hi, mi cara.” She smiles when Andy turns around.
“Hey,” she walks over to her and grabs her hand, pulling her deeper into the room to kiss her, “I am so happy to see you here.” Andy grins, moving them towards the rest room.
Y/N giggles. “I’m happy to be here,” she kicks the door closed once they’re inside the room, “the others have already gone home?”
“Yeah,” she kisses her, “we have all the time we need.” Pulling away momentarily, Andy pulls the doctor’s coat off of Y/N. “You look incredibly hot in your scrubs.” She eyes her body up and down.
“Even when I’m all hot and sweaty?”
“Even then.”
Rolling her eyes, Y/N pushes Andy to sit down on the bed before getting on top of her, draping her arms over her shoulders. “You look very hot in your work clothes too.” She mumbles, going back to kissing her.
Andy grabs the sides of her waist so she wouldn’t fall. Y/N’s hands are about to go down to the hem of Andy’s shirt, but the sound of the door opening interrupts them.
“Y/N?”
Their heads snap towards the now open door, where Maya and Carina are standing, both shocked to see them together.
“Carina!” Y/N struggles to get up from Andy’s lap. “What- what are you doing here?” Andy stands up as well, her eyes wide. Truth to be told, she’s kind of scared of the Italian, especially now that she walked in on them making out.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing?” Her hands start moving in the air. “Since when have you two been together?”
They glance at each other. “Like, six months.”
“Wh-“ Carina groans, throwing her hands in the air while mumbling in Italian, which makes Y/N scrunch up her face. “Six months and you didn’t think to tell me?”
Y/N shrugs, “sorry, there was never really a right time, so, you know,” she glances at Andy, trying to come up with some kind of explanation, “it just never came up.”
Carina has her arms crossed over her chest and her face is in a deadpan look. Maya has a tightlipped smile on her face, “well, I’m happy for you two.” She turns to look at Carina, her brows raised.
With a sigh, Carina walks over to hug Y/N and Andy. “I’m happy too, but you are supposed to tell me things.” She points at Y/N once she has backed away from them, giving Maya room to hug them both.
“I’m not ten anymore.” Y/N smiles, holding Andy’s hand.
“You’re still younger.”
She sighs, but nods, there’s no use to fighting Carina. “We were about to go out to eat, do you want to join us? Or did we interrupt something?” Maya smirks, looking at the jacket still laying on the ground.
“Maya!” Carina looks at her with wide eyes. “That’s my sister.”
“Oh, shut up, you had a study on orgasms.” Y/N picks up her jacket and puts it on. “We’ll join you, but I think we have to change first.” She looks at Maya and Carina’s nice, fancy clothes before turning to her and Andy’s work clothes that they’re still wearing.
“We’ll wait for you in the car,” Maya states while they step out of the room, “don’t take too long!” The door closes.
Andy turns to Y/N. “That’s one way for them to find out.” Laughing, she grabs Y/N’s hips. “I’m guessing you’re borrowing some of my clothes?” She mumbles and smiles when Y/N nods. “I love to see you in my clothes.”
“Don’t start anything now.” Y/N raises her brows, pulling away from Andy to go to her locker and grab some of her extra clothes from there.
“After dinner?”
“Definitely.” She kisses Andy and winks at her, before going to the bathroom to change her clothes, leaving Andy to the locker room with a grin.
#station 19#station 19 fanfiction#station 19 fic#station 19 fanfic#station 19 imagine#andy herrera fanfic#andy herrera imagine#andy herrera x you#andy herrera x fem!reader#andy herrera x y/n#andy herrera x reader#andy herrera x female!reader#andy herrera fic#andy herrera fanfiction#andy herrera#andy herrera x female reader#andy herrera x deluca!reader#carina deluca x sister!reader#carina deluca#maya bishop#marina#carina deluca x maya bishop#fluff
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Correspondences - Why are they called that?
I'm sure at some point, like me, you were curious as to why we use the word "correspondences" when connecting physical things meant to represent, relate to, to nonphysical things. No? Just me? Well here are my notes about the topic, anyways!
What are correspondences?
In the context of theology, correspondence is "a relationship between two levels of existence".
The use of the term in this way was coined by Emanuel Swedenborg in his works Arcana Cœlestia (1749–1756), Heaven and Hell (1758) and other such works. Here is a quote from Swedenborg himself:
Though this idea wasn’t new, and neither was the word “correspondence”, Swedenborg coined the term to explain the relationship between the spiritual world and the material world.
Nothing can exist anywhere in the material world that does not have a correspondence with the spiritual world—because if it did, it would have no cause that would make it come into being and then allow it to continue in existence. Everything in the material world is an effect. The causes of all effects lie in the spiritual world, and the causes of those causes in turn (which are the purposes those causes serve) lie in a still deeper heaven. (Secrets of Heaven #5711)
The idea that the material world and the spiritual world are linked came along before Swedenborg, however.
Swedenborg’s Law of Correspondence is similar to the “As above, so below” concept that you may see often in spiritual circles, which comes from the Hermetic text The Emerald Tablet; as well as the microcosm–macrocosm analogy; the idea that the human body is a microcosm—a small universe that mimics the macrocosm (or “great universe”).
Similar ideas can be found all throughout the world and in many cultures. (See also Sympathetic Magic, Synchronicity, and the Doctrine of Signatures.)
References and Further Reading
Swedenborg Foundation - Correspondences
Sacred Texts’ collection of Swedenborg’s works
(Please check out the other links throughout the post, too!)
Enjoy my posts? Consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi!~
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Shall We Dance?
***
“Our suspect has a ballroom dance class tonight. I think that would be a fine time to plan a little encounter,” Hetty said, pausing a beat before turning to face the entire team spread around OPS. “Any takers?”
“I volunteer Kensi and Deeks,” Callen said before anyone else could speak up.
“What kind of ballroom dance?” Deeks asked.
“Uh, they’re currently focusing on the Tango,” Nell answered after consulting her tablet.
Deeks considered the information; it was far from the worst cover ever, even if he’d never danced the Paso Doble in his life. If Eric and Nell could get them into the class, he’d manage.
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Hetty disagreed. “Miss Blye, Mr. Deeks, please prepare appropriately and plan to be at that class tonight.” With a definitive nod, she walked out.
“Well, this should be good,” Sam commented with a half grin.
“She can’t be serious,” Kensi said. “I am not dancing the Tango with Deeks.”
“Wow, that’s not hurtful, or anything.”
“Who else is going to do it?”
“What about Eric and Nell?”
“I would, but tap dance is more my style.” Eric shrugged apologetically.
As they headed downstairs, Deeks nudged Kensi’s shoulder. “Hey, are you telling me the great Special Agent Blye can’t fake her way through a dance class?”
“Oh.” Kensi huffed, clearly offended. “I can fake it, I’m worried about you. Do you even know Tango steps?”
“I’ve seen “Shall We Dance?”,” Deeks answered glibly.
“Oh my god,” she groaned.
“Come on, you guys had dancing lessons from Hetty a while ago,” Sam reminded them.
“Yes, one lesson. And it was interrupted.”
Deeks tilted his head, confused why Kensi was putting up such a huge fight. He’d understand it if she was outright mocking him, but this seemed different. He noted her crossed arms, her tense spine, and suddenly it struck him: she was nervous.
Hiding this new revelation, Deeks walked to the center of the bullpen, conscious of the others watching with varying levels of interest. He held out his hand invitingly.
“Ok, if you’re so worried about it, let’s practice right now,” he offered.
Kensi tried to laugh it off, looking to Nell, and then Sam for support. Nell just regarded her with an intrigued smile and Sam sighed,
“Just do it and get it over with.”
Reluctantly, Kensi joined him in the middle of room, hesitantly taking his left hand. Her hand slightly clammy in his, and she drew in a couple shallow breaths before settling her other hand on his shoulder in the proper dance hold.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he whispered. If it made her this uncomfortable, he wouldn’t force it.
Kensi tensed, but this time with indignation. “I’m fine,” she hissed back, settling her hand more firmly on his shoulder and leaning into him. Following her cue, he placed his hand on her back, suddenly feeling a little nervous himself.
He’d had exactly three Latin dance lessons in college, but he remembered enough of the basics to get by. Their first few steps were stilted and uncoordinated. After a few more cycles, they found a rhythm.
Leaning into her natural dancing abilities, Kensi followed his lead perfectly, playing into the push and pull, sliding her leg between his feet. He caught her eye and she grinned at him, her earlier anxiousness completely gone.
On the next revolution, he dipped Kensi back, one hand finding a place just below her hip as he supported her in mid-air. Her eyes met his again, the air charged around them, bodies pressed together.
Clearing his throat, Deeks abruptly lifted her back up, suddenly overheated and painfully aware of the silence.
“Ok,” Nell said. “That was…interesting.”
“Would you two like a minute?” Sam asked, a hint of warning and question under the joke.
Kensi hastily stepped away, brushing her hair back from her face. “No, we’re good.”
“Fantastic,” Deeks agreed.
“But we should probably practice a little more. You know, just so we’re ready for tonight.”
More practice might kill, but he nodded along, following Kensi as she made awkward gestures in the general direction of the gym.
It was perfectly normal to feel this way about your partner. Completely normal.
#densimber 8.0#densimber 2024#densimber day 5#ncis la fanfiction#marty deeks#kensi blye#pre densi#by ejzah
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Worst year of your life so far
It's hard not to feel like every time a moderately good and nice or even great thing happens to me I ought to expect and inconvenience or a TERRIBLE thing to happen right after. This is genuinely why I'm afraid to be happy. I don't have an exact religion, I'm just certain that I am in fact an evil person or at least some evil person's revitalized soul. Since November of last year my life has been, in this order:
>Receive notice that I might owe SSI 15k because a miscalculation says they're overpaying me. I don't have 15k or stashed away 15k. I've been using every cent of money given to survive and pay back overdue fees. Life coach is sure I won't have to pay anything. I don't believe her.
>Find out that the location of my jobsite is being terminated within a week before the site is closed down. Can not be moved to a new location. The chain is dying. No location has room for me.
>Spend the days up to Christmas helping my coworkers who were a lot of times my only non-family communication, tear apart our store and then become strangers. The worst part is when they have me throw out hundreds of dollars of boutique clothes because the company wants to write it off as a reduction, DIRECTLY into a garbage bin. We'll be terminated from any further locations if we're caught trying to save or sneak away with anything. It's Christmas time and here's some clothes for needy people and my company is literally throwing them in a landfill. I just watch.
>Is repeatedly told by my job coach, REPEATEDLY, that I will get a job at a place which shares my old workplace's union. Nope. I don't. They string the both of us along for four months. By the time we move on to a new place in mind THAT job opportunity fizzles out after too many tries. My job coach and I have a fight and he doesn't talk to me or wants to see me. I feel nothing but shame. He and his wife are going through their own crisis.
>While ALL of this is happening I'm watching an active genocide a take place in real time. I try to do my daily clicks and boycott as much as possible. Come August I use up the rest of my unemployment money donating to any vetted fundraiser I can. I hope, I HOPE every time that THIS MONTH must be the last month of this slaughter. The powers that be have to do something...the answer is a resounding no. More and more innocent families are butchered. I can't offer anything really substantial.
>TWICE. TWICE IN ONE YEAR- my EBT gets cut off until I repeal it.
>My sister and I are both unemployed and in mental (in her case physical anguish). We blow up at each other more than once, especially over politics. She gets a job that she hates and is dangerous before the thankfully quits. She gets another job and is layed off for no reason in the same week she gets it.
>Can't afford a real dentist. Have to do a dentist-intern who tells me to watch my cavities that I have but no they can't do anything about it.
>My laptop's mouse stops working. It's fine for tablet but it means I need to use an external mouse for everything casual and writing. I'm already avoiding doing too much digital artwork on account of not wanting to wear down my system. Oh also my screen has a shadow on in.
>My mom is evicted from the house she and her boyfriend have lived in for years now and is forced to live in my grandpa's house which HE'S been forced to move out of. It was also a house I had lived in for awhile as well and so all of my sister and my own childhood things have to come back with us to our apartment. We don't have room. I'm going to have to downsize so many of my things.
>Catch covid because I was too stupid to bother with a booster. It delays getting me my new job and tasting anything for a month. Also delays me getting to work on the art I need done by September/October.
>Dog gets a bad flea infestation almost immediately after this because of summer heat. Also she wasn't on flea medication when it happened.
>My new job is two days a week rather than three. Lesser pay than what I used to have. All throughout October my schedule is cut to one day a week. I can never truly finish my job for my supervisors like they need to of me.
>Life coach assigns new job specialist; the one who got me my job. New specialist tells me all about Tiktok and how I need it and how I ought to download and post more on there. When I ask her for help navigating the platform and for her to help me on my social media art campaign; she shuts me out. Tells me repeatedly she's not versed in social media and tells me to instead take an online class. That's not what I want from her I want her to support me as an artist and that means occasionally just following my pages. She gives me a hard "no". Literally all my plans for a semi-active youtube, tiktok and instagram campaign fall apart. If I can not be supported even emotionally what's the POINT??
>I learn just this night how I unintentionally deeply hurt one of my oldest friends on the platform when I get the courage to ask if she's really upset with me or not. She blocks me mid me trying to ask for more information on the incident that hurt her. I do think I wronged her, but it's that I didn't even know I did that HURTS. Another one of my friends is right in the way of a frikin hurricane.
>Sister/Roommate is diagnosed with a condition that makes drawing difficult. I try not to draw near or around her as much as possible. It hurts. We are both still artists.
>Next door neighbor who's made creepy sexual comments about me to my sister throws dog poop on my sister's car at night. He thinks it's our dog even though I'M THE ONE picking up our dog's poop every single time.
and finally
>Country elects the same admitted fascist we kicked out for starting a riot.
Art, fandom and my dog is literally all I have. It is my one and only escape and happiness. I would be proud of myself and how much I've matured since just last year, but I can't. I can't be because I'm too miserable and so is everyone else around me. People tell me it's my fault or not my fault, people tell me I can help but won't or that I can't help at all. It's never enough. I wish I could be a better friend towards every one of you. I wish I could be a better creator. I wish I could find the time in my schedule to find a time in my therapists' schedule to see me again. All I ever feel like is an entitled garbage heap for even complaining when so many people are suffering to such an insane degree. Even the campaign people coming to me about how they want me to reblog their posts trigger me on account of how so many seem to forget they've already talked to me before. The fact that I am forgotten by circumstances where people can't remember anyone's username hurts me when it shouldn't.
I just want it all to stop.
----
And, for the first time, I actually want to thank you if you somehow read any of this. This is going to get deleted soon (or maybe not) because it is a trauma dump and TMI.
And yet I genuinely needed to get all of that off my chest. I am INCREDIBLY stressed out and hate to feel bad for myself because that just makes me hate myself and then feel more bad for myself AGAIN rather than do what I keep saying I want to do and help people. I wish this clarity and odd inner-peace wasn't brought about by such turmoil and inner pain. I wish that so much. I guess to quote Art Spiegelman quoting someone else: "Samuel Beckett once said: 'Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.'...but then again, he did say it."
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Hi Mic, hope you are doing well! What are your thouths on moving from paper to tablet, i just feel like i want to try something new but i worry that it will take me ages to learn wail everyone my age is already master of the tablet illustration (i just never had the money to buy a tablet) and now i feel tiny bit like a looser late 20s pretty close to 30 to start doing my work on tablet i feel like people will see me as a lame grandpa. Idk i just have seen that after the age of 27 people have been supper rude and judji when it comes to my life choices like they do the - arent you too old to want to live off art and that makes me feel like a mummy 🙈 i dont think i am ThAT old or idk anymore... Just seenpeople on tiktok make fun of 30 year olds and then going on instagram and seen full time illustrators with perfect tablet skill at the ripe age of 21 i feel like a looser, my family has never emotionaly supported me about my passion for art and that took a tol on me emotionally i am not using it as an excuse just i do think some people get faster and more far in life just with thanks to getting some love and affection from there tribe and when you dont have that i feel things feel wayy heavier.... Sorry for the yaping, stay awesome and have a great rest of the year, sorry for the long post i just feel less and less happy wail been on instagram and more and more calm when i am away from it
No one actually cares what age you are when you make art. People who are going to be asses will always be asses. People suck, life is short, be cringe, none of this really matters all that much, just enjoy it. Also Instagram is going to feed you content based on what you click on - so if you click on stuff that makes fun of artists, it'll feed you that crap. Just stay off the thing.
Also, for jumping from paper to tablet is easy. If you can draw or paint on traditional media, you're already leagues ahead of most digital artists. Just pick up a cheap one off eBay, they're all the same outside of branding. Start in black and white just like graphite, then introduce colors. However, I'd suggest talking to someone who actually does digital art, all my stuff is traditional pen and ink on paper. Haven't touched a tablet since 2015ish, and only did that to show how much of the painting process is automated by Photoshop and a tablet. Not having to mix your own paints, blend your own paints on canvas, stretch a canvas, worry about overworking a spot, adjust the color balance along with contrast on the spot, learn about varnishes, etc., means that the computer and tablet automate 95% of the process for you - it just comes down to your technical ability to draw and patience to learn it.
Hope that helps!
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GWitch: As Above, So Below
Hermes Trismegistus is the syncretism of the Greek god Hermes(Roman Mercury) and the Egyptian god Thoth. His name means thrice great, an epithet shared between both figures. Their combined worship was observed in Hermopolis and spawned Hermetic philosophy; personal ascension from the constraints of physical being.
"As Above, So Below' is paraphrased from a Hermetic text known as the Emerald Tablet and gained great relevance in the occult, astrology, and alchemy-- All domains of Hermes/Mercury
Quod est superius est sicut quod inferius, et quod inferius est sicut quod est superius.
That which is above is like to that which is below, and that which is below is like to that which is above.
"As above, so it is below. That which has been, will return again. As in heaven, so on earth." - Helena Blavatsky
In the occult and witchcraft, it's taken to mean there exists a balance between the cosms. Macrocosm, the universe, and microcosm, the human body. That which happens as above, so it is below. They are one; a perfect union
Symbology
What is happening, has happened, and will happen again. As I've observed in my Cycles of GWitch analysis, this theme is very prevalent. Cycles themselves are a sign of As Above, So Below. The World Serpent and World tree are symbols of this principle, along with the sign for infinity 8, the caduceus, and circles.
One major sign is the Magician from the Rider–Waite tarot deck
The magician is signaling with his hands As Above, So Below and is haloed by the sign for infinity above. A pentagram lies to the left, depicting the tie to the mystic world. It's no accident that we have Prospera referred to as a magician with her gentle words; hinting at her significance through Mercury (god of communication and trickery) and the hermetic principle. She is the Magician. And an argument can be made that Suletta is also a magician (witch) who inadvertently influences rather than manipulates. But that line of thought is for another day
The Sabbatic goat Baphomet is another Symbol of As Above, So Below
They are a sign of a perfect union of opposites; Man/Beast, Female/Male, Dark/Light, etc. All while bearing Mercury's caduceus and mirroring the magician. Note the pentagram and torch pointed to the sky as the Magician does. As Above, So Below. The words on its arms are Solve (dissove) Coagula (coagulate). An alchemical principle that means to create something new, you must dissove what came before. The End must come before the Beginning. The Beginning must come before the End. A connected cycle.
Ragnarok is an obvious use of this concept but it also exists in Greek myth; Cronos who overthrew his father Uranus who was overthrown by his son in return. What has happened will happen again.
Notrette, the Hermetic Alchemist
This is more on the speculation side of things but considering ep23 and soft confirmation she resides in the GUND nexus and even more of a genetic genius than expected; let's assume she's the one who created Suletta, the 12th key.
In Alchemy, there exists something called the philosopher's stone. FMA fans are very familiar but in layman's terms it's the holy grail of alchemy. And one of the boons is the ability to create a clone/homunculus. Considering QZ, the ability to unnaturally extend life is similarly on the nose. The 12 keys of Basil Valentine is an alchemical text by which you can create the philosopher's stone
This is the image for the twelth and final step. Twelfth Key. Inside a laboratory an alchemist stands with tongs in his left hand, while with his right he points to a triangular crucible on a bench behind him, with two rose-like flowers growing out of it and the symbol of Mercury above it. On the left is a barrel-like furnace from the top of which flames emerge. On the right a lion devours a snake. Through an open window behind, the Sun and Moon are seen.
Mercury's symbol and 12th key are undeniably Suletta but the Snake and Lion are Shaddiq and Guel. The Moon is Nott (Notrette) and the Sun is her child Dagr (Miorine)
We are meant to associate both Notrette and Prospera as Hermetic Alchemists, and the pursuit of their craft has led to the events of GWitch and the perpetuation of numerous cycles. As Above, So Below.
I do find it intriguing that the stone is said to be not one, but two. A red stone and a white stone. It's not hard to equate our girls to both. After all, they too are a perfect union of opposites
#As above so below so below as above#sometimes this show is too subtle for its own good#anyway why would you waste the as above so below suit on lauda#g witch#suletta mercury#miorine rembran#gundam witch from mercury#g witch spoilers#analysis and speculation#prospera mercury#the witch from mercury
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