JET SET

YOU CAN'T WIN JUST COOPERATE

[prsebin]

[prheejin-deactivated20200425]

a story to tell

[prsebin]

@prheejin​

two hours into her shift and she’s had a total of four customers (all campers, all ordering water and the cheapest thing on the menu), nothing too exciting. heejin’s amping up to go through her housekeeping list again for the fifth time that day when–“sebin!” her all-too-obvious favorite walks through the front door, makes herself right at home at the center of the bar and heejin’s grin is automatic. “i was hoping you’d stop by, i got your favorite ready. it’s sitting in the back if you’re hungry.” a precursory glance across the diner, right before handing over her undivided attention to the girl before her. “how’s your brother, by the way?”

weekday gloom kicks in a day late, the onset of rain preceded by grey skies and heavy clouds overhead. sebin heads out at five and takes her usual route. a steady drizzle sets in by six, and with the prediction of heavy showers before noon, she postpones the walk home and heads straight for the diner instead.

a good run’s usually the perfect fix to clear up any unnecessary thoughts on her mind. today, though, the nagging feeling remains, like a scab that can’t be picked. she makes a pitstop under the awning of an apartment complex for a smoke, but even that doesn’t offer much relief. a quick swipe through her phone reveals one unread message. it’s from her brother:

from dumbass: have u tried smoking weed 

hopefully heejin has better ideas.

her arrival doesn’t turn heads, but it does get a dirty look from the table by the front. running shorts don’t tend to bode well with the older crowd-- the most popular responses being ‘where are your pants?’ and ‘you’re being indecent in public’, both of which have been voiced by her own mother on multiple occasions. but such is life. sebin breezes past them and squeezes into her designated spot, keys and phone swapped for the menu on the table. not that she needs it, but she likes to keep up the act for the hell of it. she hums and pretends to consider.

“you always read my mind. i love it.” sebin slaps the book shut and slides it to her right, elbows perched onto the table shortly after. "still an idiot. he just broke up with his girlfriend yesterday. they lasted a whopping two and a half weeks. kind of impressive for him, actually.”

men. but more on that later.

[xxxxprjinil]

DOLOS

[prsebin]

@prjinil

“god, where’s the free food?” the sunglasses are pulled down again, like he’s testing the wattage of the lighting inside the building, testing it against his headache. jinil’s always liked free anything – to the point where he’ll take it and decide that makes it free, price tag attached or not. “recognize anyone fun?” he asks her only after they’ve circled the room a few times and jinil had managed to find himself a handful and sandwich triangles.

social gatherings like these are nothing more than glorified circus acts. everything’s put on for show; every move not without lengthy deliberation. you don’t just roll out of bed and show up at a place like this-- no, you prepare for weeks, scheduling manicures and hair appointments and sessions with your personal trainer, trimming off excess fat and plucking every misplaced follicle into oblivion. you’re the whole damn act. best kind of entertainment there is, in sebin’s opinion.

(that, and two tantalizing words: free. food.)

it’s also an opportunity to scope out potential business. most of the attendees are already filthy rich-- a degree’s just another tick off their bucket list. which is why she’s not alone today. jinil’s slumped over in shotgun, looking like he’s seen better days; sebin, on the other hand, bobs her head in tandem to an old wu-tang beat. setting a new personal record always puts her in a good mood.

they ditch her car at the valet and embark on foot, taking a moment to locate the premises. the bland exterior of the building holds as much allure as a week-old slice of white bread, but she’s been to enough of these to know that it’s a different story altogether inside. with jinil at her heels, she adjusts the front of her (nice, expensive, never to be worn again) blazer and presents their invitations at the entrance. the girl up front cross-checks their ids and ushers them in with a polite smile, and sebin doesn’t miss the way her eyes follow their backs as they slip inside. probably wondering what all the fuss is about. 

she’s right about the interior-- straight out of a high-end interior design magazine, from the cream-colored tablecloths to the vaulted ceiling in all its ribbed, lacquered glory. what she doesn’t expect is the ratio of expensive champagne to actual sustenance. fucking phonies and their fad diets. 

“i wish i knew. i skipped breakfast for this.”  bad move. still, she keeps up the pleasantries, smiling in greeting when she makes eye contact with familiar faces on their second or third lap of the hour. “no one worth buttering up to. i’m not doing that on an empty stomach.” and spoken not a second too soon, because the tingle of anticipation strikes the back of her neck at the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“scratch that. wall street schmuck at three o’clock.” now’s their time to shine. “daniel! fancy seeing you here, huh?” guy’s obviously a couple of drinks ahead of them. he lurches forward to kiss her cheek and she fights back a grimace. he reeks. slurs, “baaabe. oh, shit- who’s this? your boyfriend? doesn’t look like he’d be your type.”

jesus.

[prsebin]

SWITCH UP

@przhiruo

hyunsoo’s a top-notch orator. if this was 400 bc athens, he’d probably have everyone under his thumb. but they’re in 21st century seoul and he might as well be speaking gibberish, 'cause she’s itching for a light and this meeting couldn’t possibly be any longer (it really could, but she’s not going to jinx it). here’s the thing: sebin’s a proper teammate. and like any proper teammate she stands idle, nods at the appropriate times and laces her fingers behind her back. and thinks to herself, i’m going to have to make a convenience store run by the end of the night.

the neon numbers on her hand-me-down casio read 10:30 by the time the curtain goes down. sebin takes her time to mingle before heading out the door. down the steps she goes, catching zhiruo with an arm looped through hers, all chummy in her near-perfect mandarin. she’s been working on her intonation at ruo’s behest. “you’re not heading home, are you? thought we made a promise.”

this week’s prize is a beaut-- snow-white, with dark cherry upholstery. certainly not as showy as the last one, but sebin’s been looking forward to taking it out for a real test drive. she relinquishes her grip and fishes the keys out her back pocket. with one click, the doors swivel to open in a seamless upward motion-- 

--like an angel unfurling it wings. 

almost biblical if you think about it long enough.

“and don’t even think about blowing me off tonight.”

[prsebin]

BLACK EYE

@prwonjae

coffee’s served piping hot, with a dollop of cream and cocoa powder on top. apparently it’s their specialty drink, but sebin hasn’t seen anyone else ordering it since she’d first step foot inside. and that was six years ago. she chalks it up to the part-timer who works on sundays-- donghyun, or donghun or something. last time he’d practically strong-armed her into trying the ‘march special’-- coffee, a dollop of cream and matcha powder. the ‘february special’? coffee, a dollop of cream, and cinnamon.

he’s persistent. she’ll give him that.

“nother blind date, huh?” 

“hey, dong...” a quick peek at his nametag won’t hurt. “...hun. can’t be helped. a girl’s lonely.” one hand curls around the handle of the mug, bringing it to her mouth. she takes a cautious sip and nearly spits it out. he hardly notices, too busy smiling down at her with those big puppy eyes of his. if she didn’t know any better she’d think he was smitten. “but hey, thanks for the drink!”

“no problem! i hope it goes well for you this time.” he salutes her and trots away, permed curls bouncing with every step. sebin sets the cup down and fiddles with her helmet instead, lowering it onto the empty seat beside her after some consideration. with her luck, wonjae’ll get here by the time her coffee’s cooled down. soon enough, she spots a familiar figure dismounting from a bike on the street and wriggles her hand in greeting. waits until he’s lowered himself into his seat to shove the drink under his nose. 

“do you think the design on top’s a heart? or a kidney bean? i can’t tell.” speaking of kidneys... “oh, right-how’d your last job go? tell me after you order. i wanna see pictures.”

[prsebin]

STACK UP

@prnatsume

on any other weekend, establishments like these are swarming with customers. they’ve got the seasoned veterans: old men with leathery skin, loose coats and a keen sixth sense. boring lot, but good for business. then there are the yuppies, twenty-somethings strutting around in packs like they own the place. sore losers. still good for business. maybe even better, if they’ve got loose change rolling around in their pockets by the fistful. 

dad’s taught them the fine art of observation. small details are just as part of the big picture, like the amount of hair gel slicked through crop-cut hair, or the brand of perfume clinging to fresh-pressed linen. indicators of class, age, bad habits and good. all it takes is one look, he’d say. just one look for you to start assembling the pieces. know thy enemy, or however it goes. proverbs aren’t exactly her thing.

sebin ambles in at noon. by then, most of the tables are completely occupied. only a couple empty singles remain. a quick scan of the crowd eliminates all but one spot in the back, just across from the king himself. she drifts over, a self-effacing smile in place. not a drop of familiarity in sight- natsume who? “’xcuse me- this spot taken?”

[prsebin]

BIG SHOTS

@pryongji​

here’s what any eighteen-year-old girl will tell you: the sure-fire way to bypass any line is to get all dolled up. wriggle into a skin-tight minidress and throw on some heels, maybe add a dab of peach-pink lipstick to match. bouncers eat that shit up. 

good thing she’s not eighteen anymore.

today’s guy is the same one who’d been stationed at the door last week-- he starts in recognition, eyes naturally drifting down to her lime-green runners. sebin has the decency to shoot him a sheepish grin. “came straight from a job. you know how it is.” apparently he does, because he steps aside without so much as a peep to let her pass. the next person in line’s not going to be so lucky-- poor kid doesn’t stand a chance in those khakis.

(she’s not seyoon, but those pants are fucking hideous. what. the. fuck.)

inside, it’s an absolute pigsty-- floors sticky from a cocktail of spilled drinks and grimy residue off well-trodden asphalt; harsh, swinging neon strobes an epileptic nightmare. not too shoddy for the unlimited supply of free drinks, though. the girl at this particular bar’s a definite perk. sebin slides into the next available spot at the counter. sheds her hoodie in the same breath and cups her hands around her mouth, a crude attempt at making herself heard above the bone-rattling bass. “hey, jiji. seen any big fish around today?” 

but before that:

“don’t know about you, but i’m parched.”

[prsebin]

choose a way to born

[prsebin]

what is Up!! this is my gorl sebin aka trip, pc’s one and only getaway driver! u can read up on her here and here, but if that’s not ur thing i’ll also leave an abridged version down below. we can plot thru tumblr im’s or discord, just let me know what u prefer! 🤠

aesthetics: some good ol’ rum and coke, dirtied white sneaks, upbeat vaporwave on full blast in a club at 3am, cars roaring along the shoreline of tokyo bay, the lingering traces of cigarette smoke in a worn t-shirt, muffled old school hip-hop playing through paper-thin dorm walls, the ladder sequence in baduk, freshly-squeezed lime in a glass of seltzer 

1/2 of the hwang twins (mr. hwang seyoon’s her male clone), family’s new money thanks to dad’s lucrative casino chain busine$$. word on the street is that he made it this far with the help of some shady business partners and underhanded deals but u gotta do what u gotta do amirite ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

sob-story free-- sails through most of her life without a hitch as an unproblematic(?) rich kid, dutifully graduates with a degree in economics ($$$) from the university of tokyo and gets into racing while she’s there!! comes home and hones in on her newfound love for the vroom vroom and look where we are today

v chill, but weirdly competitive at the same time. depends on her mood :~) not the type to cause drama, but definitely the enthusiastic bystander armed with a bucket of popcorn

rich kid privileges mean that u pick up a handful of foreign languages u will probably never actually use irl unless it’s to talk shit about people

need a partner to assist you with morally questionable headassery? Say No More

has a gambling problem :-( drinking and smoking are separately filed as “daily hobbies”

peep the very informative moodboard i made here

[prsebin]

[beatsforbrothels]

Visit Original Link

[prsebin]