#// but failing 'cos it's not the american one?

[mariocki]

The Brothers Rico (1957)

"Okay, okay, so nobody's blaming you! Let's just say something happened way back, huh? So maybe I am gonna die. But, Eddie, you've got even bigger troubles. You're gonna live."

[simantopia]

Playing the KOREAN version of Urbz because I wanted to compare every Urb model to the Japanese version, but unfortunately and frustratingly the editable NPC cheat is not working with the Japanese version! So I figured the Korean version likely uses the same Japanese models. It appears to use the same Japanese opening and the same style for the player's urb / character.

BUT. The Korean version does NOT use the Japanese models, they use the original ones. Except, they're still different.

It's more subtle but they removed the 5 'o'clock shadow & softened his face! honestly it's kinda funny 'cos even though this is a console game, it looks just like a skinblend CC somebody would make for TS4! xD

because like that's what they often do, they soften up the default skin!

[friskyfreddie2024]

America: You Fucked Up

You could have chosen Hope. You chose Hate.

You could have chosen Empathy. You chose Enmity.

You could have chosen a New Beginning. You chose the Nazi.

We could have finally been rid of this cancer on American democracy. He could have been banished to obscurity, remembered only as the worst president in American history, and finally held responsible for his numerous crimes.

The ignorant, racist, misogynistic, white supremacist, pathologicial liar is now going back to the White House. He is a convicted felon, an admitted sexual predator, a total fraud, and a demented old man. He belongs in prison.

What did you do?

You ignored that the U.S. economy is the strongest in the world, that inflation is at its lowest level in four years, that unemployment is at its lowest level in three years. You believed the lies about how terrible the economy is. I knew better.

You forgot about his 30,000+ lies while he was in office. I remember.

You forgot about his complete mismanagement and ignorance over COVID, resulting in the deaths of over one million Americans. I remember.

You forgot about the saber rattling over military exercises in the pacific, when Kim Jong Un threatened us with nuclear missiles, causing us to fear whether we'd see another day. I remember.

You forgot about waking up every morning dreading to hear the latest abomination he tweeted. I remember.

You forgot about "very fine people on both sides." I remember.

You forgot about "only the best people" like Betsy DeVos, Rick Perry, Tom Price, Scott Pruitt, Steve Mnuchin, and many others who were given cabinet positions despite having zero qualifications for the job. I remember.

You forgot that 40 of his former cabinet members and dozens of former generals and officials refused to support him, saying he was "unfit to serve." I remember.

You forgot about January 6, "fight like hell". I remember.

You forgot that when he was told that his vice president was secured because the rioters wanted to kill him, he said, "So what?" I remember

You forgot about The Big Lie, "Release the Kraken" and 60+ failed attempts to overturn the election in the courts. I remember.

You forgot about "I just need you to find 11,780 votes." I remember.

You forgot about "They're eating the cats! They're eating the dogs!" I remember.

What now?

When a woman suffering an ectopic pregnancy dies because she doesn't have access to medical care, that's on you.

When they take away your neighbor, your co-worker, your friend, and deport them, that's on you.

When a woman is forced to suffer the agony of carrying her rapist's baby to term, that's on you.

When a transgender kid harms themselves because they can't get the medical care they need, that's on you.

When your middle-class taxes GO UP, while billionaires get even more tax breaks, that's on you.

When schoolchildren are killed by an assault rifle in a mass shooting, that's on you.

When children grow up ignorant because you banned books and dictated how history is taught, that's on you.

When Grandma can no longer afford a comfortable life because the Social Security she paid into all her working life, and provided income on which she now depends, has been cut, that's on you.

When violence against Jews, Asians, Hispanics rises again, that's on you.

When prices on the goods you buy skyrocket due to tariffs, that's on you.

When Ukraine, deprived of our support, is overrun by Russia, that's on you.

When the U.S. is the laughing stock of the world (as we were 2016-2020), that's on you.

What should you have done?

You should have exercised critical thinking skills, recognized the thousands of lies you were being told, recalled that his administration had four years to live up to his promises and failed at all of them. You should have realized that he is a profoundly stupid individual who doesn't give a shit about you or your family or anything except himself.

You had the last nine years to see that, and you still fell for his bullshit.

[vague-humanoid]

Nearly all of the deaths in U.S. immigration detention facilities over a five-year period were preventable, but no officials have faced serious accountability, a new report found.

Of the 52 people who died in detention under the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) from January 2017 to December 2021, 49 of the deaths, or 95%, were preventable or possibly preventable if appropriate medical care had been provided. The new report, “Deadly Failures: Preventable Deaths in U.S. Immigration Detention,” reviewed more than 14,500 pages of documents published by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), Physicians for Human Rights, and American Oversight on June 25.

None of the private prison corporations—which currently hold more than 90% of the detainees under ICE custody—have faced meaningful consequences as million-dollar contracts have been doled out to the same facilities where preventable deaths have occurred, the report showed.

“It is a system that’s rotten to the core,” said Eunice Hyunhye Cho, senior attorney at ACLU’s National Prison Project and lead co-author of the report. “From bottom to top, you see some very minimal slaps on the wrists and blaming of the lowest level employees, but there’s really no true accountability regarding the disaster of the medical care system in ICE’s detention facilities,” she said.

After deaths in detention, ICE failed to conduct rigorous investigations—failing to interview key witnesses, omitting key inculpatory facts, and allowing evidence to be destroyed, the report stated. ICE also withheld information from the relatives of the deceased. To obtain the medical record of a loved one, a family has to take ICE to court and litigate for years to receive often incomplete files.

“It is a system of impunity and lack of transparency as ICE and private corporations are working hand in hand in perpetuating dangerous and deadly conditions,” Cho said.

Amid medical neglect, cruelty, and abuse, more than 38,000 immigrants are held each day in an ICE network of some 190 detention facilities across the country, as of June 16. That number will only increase as Congress approved a record annual budget for ICE to detain 41,500 people daily at a cost of $3.4 billion this year. Most of the detention budget will go to the private prison companies—The Geo Group and CoreCivic being the largest—where most preventable deaths occur.

“The answer that we see over and over again to the failures that produce deaths is to give the detention system more money,” said Andrew Free, an attorney involved in more than 30 cases of deaths in ICE custody and contributor to the report. “That’s been the response at all levels of the system. It’s not just one facility. It’s not just one contractor. It’s not just one fiscal year,” he said.

@dirhwangdaseul @startorrent02

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Blackstreet featuring Dr. Dre and Queen Pen - No Diggity 1996

"No Diggity" is a song by American R&B group Blackstreet, released as the first single from their second studio album, Another Level (1996), featuring Dr. Dre and Queen Pen. The song reached number one in Iceland and New Zealand, as well as on the US Billboard Hot 100 where it ended "Macarena"'s 14-week reign. In the UK, it peaked at number nine. The track sold 1.6 million copies in 1996 and won the 1998 Grammy Award for Best R&B Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals. It uses samples from Bill Withers's "Grandma's Hands". Billboard magazine ranked it number 91 in their "500 Best Pop Songs of All Time" in October 2023, saying, "No song sounded like it at the time, and no song has re-captured its full effect since."

Co-producer Teddy Riley originally offered the song to his R&B group Guy as part of their short-lived reunion in 1996. After failing to record any material, he then suggested the song to Guy's lead singer Aaron Hall, who refused to take part in recording the song. He then offered the song to his other group Blackstreet. In a 2010 interview, Riley revealed the song was initially a hard sell among group members, stating; "None of the guys liked 'No Diggity'. None of them. They would even say it. That's why I'm singing the first verse. You know how they say they pushed the little one out there to see if it tastes good and see if he would get egged? Well they pushed me out there – and it became a hit."

An a capella cover of "No Diggity" was sung in the 2012 film Pitch Perfect.

"No Diggity" received a total of 82,5% yes votes!

[mariacallous]

Gov. Kathy Hochul signed legislation on Tuesday that criminalizes the removal of someone else’s religious garb, including kippahs and hijabs.

Hochul said the legislation, part of a package she signed into law, will “help protect New Yorkers and further reduce crime.”

She added in a statement, “Public safety is my top priority and I’m committed to using every possible tool to keep New Yorkers safe.”

The legislation comes amid a surge in antisemitism in New York City since the Oct. 7, 2023 attack on Israel. And an August report by Tom DiNapoli, the state comptroller, found that antisemitic hate crimes had increased by 89% from 2018 to 2023 across the state. 

Many of the attacks in the city target religious Jews who are identifiable by their attire, and assailants have regularly swatted kippahs and shtreimels off the heads of Jews on city streets in recent years.

The legislation Hochul signed will classify the removal, or the threat of removal, of religious clothing including kippahs and hijabs as aggravated harassment in the second degree, a statement by Hochul’s office said. 

“There have been multiple incidents where individuals’ religious clothing has been threatened in acts of hateful violence,” it added.

Aggravated harassment in the second degree is a class A misdemeanor that covers a range of behaviors, including threats, verbal harassment and physical strikes motivated by a person’s identity.

The new legislation is an amendment to the existing law against aggravated harassment. The amendment states that “removing a religious clothing article or headdress” is covered by the law and takes effect immediately.

Similar amendments were introduced to the state legislature in the past but failed to become law.

The new amendment was introduced by Assemblymember Nader Sayegh, a Jordanian-American Democrat from Yonkers. One of the bill’s co-sponsors was Assemblywoman Nily Rozic, an Israeli-American Democrat from Queens. There were no votes against the amendment in any of its readings.

New York legislators have attempted to use legislation in other cases to combat the surge in antisemitism. In Long Island’s Nassau County, the legislature passed a bill proposed by Israeli-American Mazi Pilip that bans masks at protests, a common sight at pro-Palestinian demonstrations that, according to law enforcement, has impeded the prosecution of people who perpetrate crimes. Jewish groups and other pro-Israel activists have pushed for a similar statewide law.

Hochul said earlier this year that she would back legislation expanding the number of crimes eligible for hate crimes prosecution, but the bill has not yet passed.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

America’s richest Medicare fraudsters are untouchable

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/2024/11/13/last-gasp/#i-cant-breathe

"When you're famous, they let you do it": eight words that encapsulate the terrifying rot at the heart of our lived experience, a world where impunity for the powerful trumps the pain of their victims.

"Populism," is shorthand for many things: rage, despair, distrust of institutions and a desire to destroy them. True populism seeks to channel those totally legitimate feelings into transformative change for a caring and fair society for all. So-called "right populism" exploits those feelings, using them to drive a wedge between different groups of victims, turning them against each other, so that elites can go on screwing the squabbling factions.

The far-right parties that are marching to victory through a series global elections are different in many ways, but they all share one trait: they appeal to mistrust of institutions, claiming that the government has been captured by elites who serve them at the expense of the governed. This has the benefit of being actually true, and while the fact that far-right parties are owned by these government-capturing elites might erode their credibility, the fact that so many "progressive" parties have stepped in to defend the institutional status quo leaves an open field for reactionary wreckers:

https://www.politico.com/blogs/2016-dem-primary-live-updates-and-results/2016/02/hillary-clinton-donald-trump-slogan-219908

Why would voters turn out to support a "Department of Government Efficiency," run by a bully whose career has been defined by abusing the people he is in charge of? Maybe they're turkeys voting for Christmas, but they also have personal, traumatic experience with government departments that protected the abusive corporations that preyed on them.

Today on Propublica, Peter Elkind tells the incredible story of Lincare, the nation's leading supplier of home oxygen, a repeat-offender fraudster and predator that has made billions in public money without any real consequences:

https://www.propublica.org/article/lincare-medicare-lawsuit-settlements-oxygen-equipment

Lincare has been repeatedly found guilty of defrauding Medicare; in this century alone, they have been put on probation four times, with a "death penalty" provision that would permanently disqualify them from ever doing business with the federal government. In every case, Lincare committed fresh acts of fraud, but never faced that death penalty.

Why not? Lincare is far too big to fail. In America's bizarre, worst-in-class, world-beatingly expensive privatized health care system, even public health provision (like Medicare) is outsourced to the private sector. Lincare has monopolized oxygen, a famously very important molecule for human survival, and if it were disqualified from serving Medicare, large numbers of Americans would literally asphyxiate.

Lincare clearly knows this. Too big to fail is too big to jail, and too big to jail is too big to care. They are the poster children for impunity, repeat offenders, multiply convicted, and still offending, even today. Lincare has been convicted of fraud under the administrations of GW Bush, Obama, Trump and Biden, and they're still in business.

What a business it is! Elkind takes us to the asbestos-poisoned town of Libby, Montana, where more than 2,000 of the 2.857 population suffer from respiratory diseases from the open-pit mine that operated there from 1963-1990. The elderly, dying population of this town rely on Medicare and Medicare Advantage oxygen concentrators to draw breath, and that means they rely on Lincare.

That means they are prey to Lincare's signature scam: charging Medicare (and 20% co-paying patients) to rent an oxygen concentrator every month, until they have paid for it several times over. This is illegal: under federal rules, patients are deemed to have bought their oxygen concentrators after 36 months and contractors are no longer allowed to charge them. Lincare doesn't give a fuck: the bills keep coming, and Lincare patients who survive long enough have paid the company $16,000 for a $799 gadget.

When Brandon Haugen, a local Lincare customer service rep, noticed this and queried the company's home office in Clearwater, Florida (home to Scientology and the Flexidisc), he was given the brushoff. After multiple attempts to get company leadership to acknowledge that this was illegal, he quit his job, along with his colleague and childhood friend Ben Montgomery. Between them, Haugen and Montgomery had 14 children who depended on their Lincare paychecks. Despite this, they both quit and turned whistleblower, with no job lined up. Eventually, Lincare paid $29m to settle the claim, with $5.7m to the whistleblowers and their lawyers. For Lincare, this was part of the cost of doing business and the fraud rolls on.

Lincare doesn't just defraud Medicare, they also have a high-pressure commissioned sales force that has repeatedly been caught defrauding Lincare customers – overwhelming sick, poor, elderly people. Patients are pressured to accept auto-billing, then Lincare piles medically dubious gadgets onto their monthly bills, as well as useless, overpriced "patient monitoring" services. Customers with apnea machines are mis-sold ventilators by salesmen who falsely claim these are medically necessary.

Salespeople illegally auto-shipped parts and consumables for Lincare machines to patients, then billed them for it. To satisfy the legal requirement that they telephone patients before placing these orders, sales agents would call patients, put them on hold, then part the call until the patient hung up.

Salespeople are motivated by equal parts greed and terror. Make quota and you can get up to $8,000 per month in bonuses. Miss that punishing quota and you're out on your ass (which is why one salesperson ordered a medically unnecessary ventilator).

Lincare also habitually ignores requests to pick up medically unnecessary equipment, because so long as the equipment is on the patient's premises, they can continue to bill for it. As one Ohio manager wrote to their staff: "As we have already discussed, absolutely no pick-ups/inactivation’s are to be do[ne] until I give you the green light. Even if they are deceased." Execs send out company-wide emails celebrating regional managers who have abandoned pick-ups, like a Feb 2022 "Achievement Rankings" email that touted the fact that most regional centers had at least 150 overdue pickups.

Lincare represents a deep, structural rot in American society. They are too big to punish, and too powerful to regulate. A 2006 law meant to curb oxygen payments was gutted by industry lobbyists. Today, Congress is weighing legislation, the SOAR (Supplemental Oxygen Access Reform) Act, which will allow Lincare to bill the public for hundreds of millions more every year, raising rates and eliminating competitive billing. The bill is supported by patient advocates who are rightly interested in getting oxygen to patients who have been locked out of the system, but the cost of that inclusion is that Lincare will be even more firmly insulated from its corruption.

The Trump Administration will doubtless crack down on some of America's worst companies, and the furious voters who elected the only candidate who campaigned on the idea that America was rotten will cheer him on. But Trump has made it clear that he will select the targets of his administration based on whether they are loyal to him or stand in his way, without regard to whether they harm his supporters:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/12/the-enemy-of-your-enemy/#is-your-enemy

Companies like Lincare, repeatedly caught paying illegal kickbacks, know how to play this game.

Image: p.Gordon (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Smoke_bomb_with_burning_fuse.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[sysakiddo]

Max is the youngest Dutch chef with three michelin stars and is seen as the world’s best cook by most of the relevant people. Buuut the word gets out that he doesn’t treat his cooks very nicely and then one time, someone he had fired said Max got physical in several instances. Max thinks it’s all bullshit and doesn’t listen to the buzz, he wants his food to speak for him. So what if he raises his voice sometimes? They are not in kindergarten, for fuck’s sake. 

The restaurant’s marketing team is not thrilled. They make a plan to salvage his reputation. Basically, they make him be the judge for one of those Masterchef VIP things, where he needs to comment on horrible food made by some celebrities who are usually too dumb to read the script. He says he will do one season, unfiltered, and then never walk out of his restaurant ever again. He doesn’t care about his reputation in the tabloids, he only cares about his stars. 

Daniel just won his third WDC. He’s also there. Cooking. His marketing teams think this is a beautiful opportunity to milk the American market. And Daniel is like, you want me to cook now? Okay. He is on top of the world, he doesn’t give a shit. 

His opinion changes drastically during the first challenge.

They are supposed to make a food they would cook for a friend. To balance Max out, the other judge is Charles. With one Michelin star. Max tries not to make himself look too smug about it. 

“So, what is this pasta situation?” Charles asks Daniel, who is currently failing to drain the pasta water without getting rid of half the pasta down the drain. 

“Um, I’m making pasta and chicken,” Daniel smiles and points at the charred chicken breast served on the table. He puts a bit of pasta next to it unceremoniously, “There it is! I’m done.”

Max narrows his eyes. “With sixty minutes on the clock, you are done after twenty?” he asks. 

Daniel giggles, “Yeah, I drive fast cars for a living.” 

“Your girlfriend must not be thrilled about your performance.”

Daniel laughs nervously. Max doesn’t join him. Charles bites his lip so as not to snort out, and points at the selection of spices Daniel hasn’t touched once during the cooking. 

“Maybe you could play with the seasoning now,” he says to soften the blow that came from his co-judge. Max moves on to another contestant without saying anything else. 

When Daniel brings them his final dish, Charles says, “It’s bland,” while Max looks him straight into eyes and says, “The chicken is so overcooked I feel like it had been killed years before I was born.” 

Daniel’s palms are sweaty, his jaw keeps ticking. He still laughs, loud, too fake. He sees Max visibly cringe. Even worse, the judges pick the contestants into their teams after that. Max picks him into his blue team as the second-to-last. 

They finish rolling and Daniel practically runs to the changing rooms, speed dialling the head of his marketing team.

[hyunjinsjeans]

He knows (Han ver.)

Felix ver.| Seungmin ver. | I.N ver.

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: after an unfortunate event you decide to tell Jisung that you are ready to give it another go.

Type: Fluff 🧸, angst ❤️‍🩹, female reader ����, SFW 👍

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, description of medical emergencies and health issues, mentions of mental health issues. Uhm there is mentions of dogs being horny(?)

Word count: 3111 words (your honor, I plead oopsie daisy!)

AN: This one is a little heavier, please don’t read if you are sensitive towards the topics described in the warnings. Something about my favorite soft boy Han made my brain go “pain” and here we are, BUT I promise it gets really cute and comforting in the end. Again, I couldn’t stop writing 😭

You cleaned up the kitchen after finishing eating dinner and drank a tall glass of water. You rubbed your stomach and looked around the house. Jisung was going to be home in a few hours, probably tired from his trip to Paris. 

He had been gone for only a couple of days, not even an entire week. 

You knew this was hard on both of you, but felt like maybe he was making it harder than it had to be. It had been over a year already… he should relax a little now. But he could not, he still felt guilty every time he walked out the door with a suitcase in his hand.

With a sigh, you decided to head to bed. His flight would land almost at midnight and then Ji would have a couple days off. He was most likely going to come home and slide into bed beside you, quietly attempting to cuddle you without waking you. It always failed because you missed him too much to not notice his warmth and his gentle touch when he wrapped his arm around you and kissed the back of your shoulder. 

It all happened the year before. The boys were promoting a single and had been invited to a fashion show in New York, their schedule was crazy, they were away for a little over a month - which was odd, since they were not touring or playing shows. 

You and the other girls, the significant others, had a group chat, “SORacha”, was the name given by the boys. Everyone was a little on edge with how the American media was treating the boys, especially the disrespectful and downright racist paparazzi who seemed to start following them around everywhere. For you the worst part was coming home to a sad looking Bbama, both of you obviously missed Jisung.

You were only 8 days away from seeing Han again, things had been normal around the house. You went to work and then came back home to walk Bbama, having dinner with the fluffy dog eating behind you from their dish on the floor. Some days you went out for drinks with your friends, most of all you kept in touch with the other girls. It was like a support group while your boyfriends and husbands were away. You would help each other in the most mundane things, and you would also reach out to each other to keep everyone's spirits up.

That night you had gone out for a drink with your coworkers, but you were not drinking much since you needed to get home to read some materials for your Japanese class. Jisung had insisted it was fun learning a new language as an adult and you signed up for the course only to find that it was more demanding than you anticipated. Regardless, you were a diligent student so you prioritized your study time over having that second bottle of soju.  

It did not change much, by the end of the night you found yourself blinking away tears in confusion as you were blinded by the bright lights shining atop of you inside the ambulance. 

Your emergency contact, LeeKnow!Reader arrived at the hospital in her checkered pj’s. You were already in the ER by then and she was not allowed to see you until after the doctors were able to get you stable. Everything happened too fast, two of your drunk co-workers (sobered up by the scare and adrenaline) explained to LeeKnow!Reader what had happened. You did nothing wrong, you said your goodbyes and went to cross the road during a red light, following the zebra lines on the pavement but a car drove past disregarding the stop light. They hit you so fast you were pushed into the air a few meters to everyone’s shock. Thankfully, you landed against another car’s hood. Although it broke a couple of ribs, it meant you did not hit your head on the pavement. 

You required surgery for the internal bleeding and the doctors were clear you would be in the hospital for at least a few days to make sure you would be okay since you did get a neck and back injury. 

LeeKnow!Reader did not even ask you, she signed the papers and arranged for you to have the emergency surgery, without questions she picked up the phone to immediately call your husband, and then your mother. She knew you were not going to want to interrupt Han in whatever he was doing but this was serious. So she called him. 

When you woke up in a hospital room after the surgery, he was there with your mom and your sister sitting next to him. 

You felt awful. Not only physically but also mentally. All he ever asked you to do when he left home was to take care of yourself (and his fur baby). And you managed to get yourself ran over by a drunk driver. 

Recovering was not easy, you had a cast around your middle and on your left leg. You had to wear a neck brace for a couple of months and even after you dealt with a lot of pain from the simplest things like sitting or laying down for too long. 

Jisung was worried, to an extreme extent. He felt guilty he was not there with you when it happened. He liked to think that he would have picked you up and that he could have avoided you needing to cross the road. It did not help that you became so weak so quickly. He knew you to be independent and strong but during your recovery you were unable to walk the stairs of your two story home. You could not go out to walk with him and take Bbama to the dog park. You could no longer turn to the gym for an outlet for your anxiety, and you felt useless. 

You were different. It was obvious to your friends and to your husband. He could tell, he was not stupid and he was also not blind. He saw you shut him out, you were shutting everyone out in fact. You stopped singing around the house because you were not doing chores. Instead you could only sit and read or knit in absolute silence. You were no longer looking for playlists to have as background noise while you went outside to take care of your garden - hell, the garden was a mess you did not even touch anymore. You slept so much too, sneaking naps here and there. You avoided phone calls and texts too. And you began losing weight fast, no longer having an interest in food. Jisung had to knock some sense into you, get you off of autopilot. You could not help it when he was face to face with you, pointing out that you were in pain and it was easy to see. He felt guilty you had been hurt in his absence and he was feeling guilty maybe he was doing something wrong now that he was home. Han demanded to know if it was him and his work or both. He felt like somehow he had let you down but he wanted to make it better. 

It was not him, you were depressed from the feeling of confinement within your own body. Like you had a broken thing that did not work but you had to still push it around as if it did, only to be frustrated when even breathing was painful. You had cried to him, and he held you with the gentleness no one but him knew to have with you. What made things worse in your head was the idea that this accident had indefinitely put a pause on your lives… just when you and Han decided it was a good time to start your family. Of course you were not in shape to have a baby, this broke your heart as it added up with all the other “can’t”s that began appearing in your life since coming home from the hospital.

And while you were better today, well over a year after the accident, you still saw the hints of guilt in your husband’s eyes every time he left home for a trip somewhere far away. If he could, he would bring you along, but you were still waiting for your citizenship and couldn’t leave the country until your paperwork was processed… it would be at least another 6 months.

You took your necklace and earrings off and left them near your vanity, you twisted your wedding ring in your finger and left it there. At night, you liked to keep it on as a reminder that your husband would always be there for you even if he wasn’t in bed with you.

Jisung got in the car at almost 1:00 am, he was tired and a little jet lagged. He wanted nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of his own bed, next to his favorite girl. 

He wondered how your day had been, since you only went back to work a couple months ago. He knew you were excited about it, about getting your life back. Han was also excited about seeing you shake the gloomy attitude, and it began the second you got your casts off and started your physical therapy. Jisung loved how determined you looked, a small girl fighting a 2lb weight in each hand. But he was so proud to see you face recovery with courage. 

As of late, you were able to do everything you used to although some days you had to take it easy thanks to your back injury that was still healing. 

Jisung entered the home and was met with silence. Not even Bbama made a sound, he knew his dog must have been sleeping with you upstairs. Upon entering your shared bedroom he could see he was correct, as you slept with a peaceful expression and an arm wrapped around the fluffy white dog. 

You heard the sound of light footsteps on the floor and the sheets moved behind you. Jisung’s scent of flowers and fresh rain reached your senses and the familiar weight of his arm around your waist confirmed his presence to you. A deep sigh left your body, all muscles in your body able to relax in his company as if he was a warm bath to drown all your worries in. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Y/N” he whispered against the exposed skin of your shoulder before laying a soft kiss there. “You should sleep.”

“I missed you,” you confessed with your hand leaving your little dog to hold onto your husband’s hand. “You should sleep too.”

“Mmm,” he nuzzled against your neck, “I’m sure I missed you more.” He babbled a little, exhaustion taking the best of him. 

You did not reply to that, already swallowed by sleep in his comforting embrace. 

***

“Oh my God…” Jisung ran to his small dog, pulling him away from the other small dog. “Where are your manners? How are you not embarrassed?” He talked to his own dog and you laughed at it from the bench. 

“Look at this,” Jisung’s ear were bright red as the other dog’s owner approached, “it’s not a female! Put that away!” He urged his dog to calm down. 

You laughed harder as your husband apologized for Bbama’s behavior. He had been humping other dogs a lot lately, you thought it was fair to either let him have a girlfriend or neuter him. Jisung was unsure of what to do, the scene at the dog park might be the wake up call he needed. 

You covered your mouth with your hand and fake-coughed to hide your laughter as Jisung walked back with the small dog on the leash again.

“Why is he so horny?” He whisper-yelled. 

This only fueled your amusement and you giggled. “He wants to get some, let the poor guy have sex!”

“I know he humps the duck plushie regularly, but this is a lot…” Jisung complained, “and why is he humping other male dogs?” 

You looked down at the innocent looking little white ball of fur and offered your husband a kind smile. “Love is love, Ji!” 

Jisung rolled his eyes but he put his hands up in defense, “not that I don’t respect that… but seriously, what’s up with him?” 

You shrugged, looking away you saw a couple with their big labrador and a little boy. The boy held the dog’s leash and the dog seemed to know it was better to pretend the boy was guiding him. 

“Maybe he knows I want a baby…” you said before registering that the words in your mind had left your mouth, “wait!” You snapped your head back in Jisung’s direction.

You felt all color drain from your face and your blood rushed to your feet. Jisung’s eyes were opened wide and round like plates, his lips pursed together made his cheeks look even larger and more comical. 

“You want a baby?” He blurted out with incredulity. 

To him it was the single craziest thing you had said ever. Why would you want a baby? You were technically recovered from the accident but you still lived with some reminders of it. He still lived with reminders of it too. And a baby? You carrying a baby? No. He felt his mouth go dry. It was not that he did not want you to have a baby. He would be thrilled to have someone as amazing as you be the mother of his kids; but he was not sure you were in good enough condition to do it. He would be scared to see you as affected as you had been after the accident.

“Well, I said it out loud, didn’t I?” You laughed nervously. 

Han swallowed and stared, paying little mind to Bbama pulling on his leash to smell some weeds growing around a bush.

“Now? Do you want it now?”

You sought his hand and intertwined your fingers together. He looked down at your hands with the same wide eyes. It was like you were playing with his heart. 

When he felt how cool your hand was and how regular your pulse felt against his skin, while his heart raced his thoughts and his palm became clammy in an instant… he wondered how it was possible you were this confident. 

“Of course not now. Not right now,” you shrugged further, leaning your chin on your shoulder to look back at him to your right. “But last year we were ready to try, right? I want to try again, Ji.” 

Jisung let out a quiet sound and squeezed your hand in fear. He could not bring himself to shut you down, he tried to think of how to say it. 

“I don’t think we should yet.” He decided to say, pursing his lips he looked down at his lap, “it’s still too soon for you. I don’t want you to get hurt having a baby.” 

Your heart sank and your small smile slipped from your face. Would he ever let it go? He could feel your hand go limp between his fingers, his gaze fell on your features and he sighed. Everything in him wanted to say yes, to give in to your every desire… but he had to be reasonable, he had to take care of you. He loved you too much to risk losing you because he got selfish, greedy and horny. 

“I’m-” you fought yourself not to cry, this was not a temper tantrum; this was a grown up conversation, you needed to remain calm. “I’m okay. I’m not going to get hurt.”

Jisung saw right through you, he pulled you into his side and let go of your hand to wrap his arm around you, smelling the soft fragrance of your shampoo as your hair flew in the air. Lavender and vanilla. He kissed your forehead. 

“Y/N, I love you. But you just got back to work, your tomatoes are going wild in the garden and there’s yarn everywhere; I think you have enough on your plate without adding a baby into the mix.”

You looked up at him and pouted, “I want a baby quokka to dress up in that yarn all over the house!” You admit with watery eyes. 

Jisung’s eyes lit up with realization. 

You had been knitting for weeks. More like months. Not even once did he stop to appreciate or wonder how and why you kept making little pieces of clothing. If he ever had to explain it to himself he would assume they were for your pet. And now he felt stupid. So stupid. 

This was something you had been thinking about for a while. A long while. 

“Babe…” he cried as he hugged you to him with both strong arms, “why didn’t you tell me before?!”

You wrapped an arm around his slender waist. 

“I didn’t think you were that oblivious,” you admitted. “Seriously, d’you ever notice what I knit?”

Your husband shut his eyes closed and held you, placing his chin on top of your head. You were not going to drop the subject. 

So he did the best thing he could think of: throw the ball to another player.

“...we need to hear from the doctor, Y/Nie…I need to know that you’ll be okay if we get pregnant.”

You pulled away from him with hopeful eyes, unable to get past the fact that he said “if we get pregnant”. 

“Is that a yes?” You asked in a small voice. 

Han pointed a finger in your direction, “that’s a maybe.” 

And although you tried to hide how excited it made you that he was in on it, you could not help but also feel nervous about what the doctor might say. You knew you did not want to wait much longer, but if there was really something going on with you that did not allow for the two of you to have a baby soon you would be disappointed. Jisung wouldn’t want to admit it, but seeing how bright your face became at his words and how the tears you were fighting spilled freely now as you kissed his cheek…he was kind of hopeful your checkup would turn out alright and all of his fears would go away. He did want so bad to have a baby with you.

————

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

[paper-mario-wiki]

What is your favorite bar from the myriad of good bars from Kendrick Lamar involving drake, i.e. Euphoria, Meet the Grahams, & Not Like Us?

note: when I say "Drake" I mean the constructed pop star. when I say "Aubrey" I mean the human being and actor behind the narrative that is "Drake".

Euphoria my favorite bar from this track is the whole "I'm the biggest hater" refrain. i like it because that singular section alone completely obliterated Taylor Made Freestyle. by paraphrasing the late DMX's famous quote about Drake, he is demonstrating how you can respectfully and powerfully use words from the mouths of dead predecessors to discredit your opponent, further showing how much of a stupid tactless clown-show popstar-turned-con-artist Aubrey Graham is in using the AI mockery of Tupac's voice to taunt Kendrick, the current voice of the West Coast and-- to many-- the people's successor to Pac.

6:16 in LA with a slightly lighter tone than the other disses, i consider this song to be a person to person sit-down and final warning to Aubrey that Kendrick is willing to provide. he explains that OVO is full of moles and wires, Aubrey is being hustled with nobody on his side, and going as far as saying "you can't sleep, these images trouble you" hinting at the fact that he would be going after Drake's personal failings that he thinks about when he goes home at night and stops being Drake. which he totally did in meet the grahams. also, bonus points to my favorite rhyme scheme in the song, just cuz it's so much fun to say:

Your lil memes is losin' steam, they figured you out The forced opinions is not convincin', y'all need a new route

like, what a perfect little two-bar rhyme scheme.

meet the grahams in this song, the most powerful lyrics to me (and the ones that usually make me start tearing up) are the ones where Kendrick stops being sorrowful and starts being angry.

You a body shamer, you gon' hide them baby mamas, ain't ya? You embarrassed of 'em, that's not right, that ain't how mama raised us Take that mask off, I wanna see what's under them achievements, Why believe you? You never gave us nothin' to believe in

this reminds me of every traumatic scolding i ever received as a child. i think that the word "disappointed" isn't strong enough to convey the feeling here. something closer would be "let down", because Kendrick's whole thing recently has been peace and uplifting people. he was willing to tolerate the competition for the game, but there were so many times that he warned Drake to not mention Kendrick's family. ultimately, in this stage of their careers, what they were fighting for was not fame or power, it was their legacy. they were fighting over how they were going to be remembered, and Kendrick was not about to let his pacifism make him passive in watching someone pretending to be a part of his culture stain how he will be written about in the records of Hip-Hop history. in specific, i love the line "take that mask off, i wanna see what's under them achievements" because he is BEGGING Audrey to respond honestly, as himself. he is begging him to cast off the facade of "Drake" and speak with any amount of dignity, because at this point there was no more room to speculate on whether or not he actually was who he claimed to be with regards to his music. at this point, the consensus was pretty thoroughly in the camp of "the actor Audrey Graham has been co-opting the image of the American Rapper for his career".

Not Like Us i think i love the bar "he has all eyes on me and imma send it up to Pac" because it goes back to the core of what this is about to Kendrick in fighting for legacy. the media, specifically the white dominated media, sucks the culture (that is to say, Black culture) dry for all it's worth monetarily, and in the process there have been many twisted caricatures or unfair narratives left in the wake of black creatives who are no longer alive to defend their own names. there's an entire tangent about how tabloids disproportionately affect black creatives due to the very fact that white supremacy discounts the respect these names have to the (largely un-melinated) higherups in hollywood, and as a result there is less PR dedicated to keeping their image clean, but i think im not qualified to go off on it. the point is, Drake disrespected Pac's legacy (and continues to do so by owning his ring, really, instead of having it be in the possession of someone who's at least from the west coast), and Kendrick wanted to put some honor on his name. he made sure that he was not just mentioned in the shameful (Taylor Made) and angry (euphoria) parts of this beef, but also its most triumphant moment.

[arimiadev]

why does aniplex want mahoyo to fail

I love visual novels. being a long time fate/stay night fan and only having heard of mahoyo from hushed whispers about its cinematography, I was super invested when it was announced to be coming to the west and I could finally play an official version of it.

however, a lot of people interested in type-moon works had never heard of mahoyo, let alone it getting an official english translation. but how? aniplex is publishing the game and they're one of the largest anime distributors in the world.

with the console release of mahoyo being almost exactly a year ago and the steam release being just 10 days away, I want to look over some of aniplex USA's bizarre and nonexistent marketing for one of my favorite visual novels.

let's clear up a few things, first.

mahoyo is the shortened form of mahoutsukai no yoru (not to be confused with mahoutsukai no yome, i.e. the ancient magus bride), which has been localized as witch on the holy night. mahoyo was a linear non-eroge visual novel released by type-moon in 2012, being one of the first scripts kinoko nasu (co-founder of type-moon) wrote back in 1996 and adapted into a VN many, many years later.

in April of 2022, a console remaster (switch, playstation 4) was announced with HD assets and voice acting, to be published by aniplex. notably, this console release would contain an english translation and was later confirmed in June to be sold in the west via online retailers. this was huge news, as this meant mahoyo would be the first type-moon visual novel (not including gameplay-oriented titles like fate/extella or fate/grand order) to be officially released in the west, as despite numerous fan translations, their more recognizable visual novels tsukihime and fate/stay night still had not received a localization.

type-moon is the developer behind mahoyo and aniplex is the publisher, meaning that type-moon made the game and aniplex is in charge of distributing (and marketing) the game worldwide.

timeline:

April 11 2022: Mahoyo rerelease announced for consoles (Switch & PlayStation 4), including English translation

July 4 2022: Aniplex confirms Mahoyo will be available to the West, localized under the name Witch on the Holy Night

October 14 2022: 2nd trailer released, more voice actor info announced

November 3 2022: physical pre-orders launched, demo version available

November 18 2022: Aniplex attends Anime NYC with Mahoyo

December 7 2022: Mahoyo released digitally on Switch / PlayStation 4 (Dec 8th in Japan, Dec 7th in America)

December 12 2022: Mahoyo reaches 110k units sold worldwide

January 27 2023: Mahoyo physicals release

July 5 2023: Mahoyo reaches 150k units sold worldwide

September 10 2023: Mahoyo announced for Steam via a now unlisted Aniplex livestream

December 13 2023: Mahoyo will be released on Steam (Dec 14th in Japan, Dec 13th in America)

some of the dates might be a little fuzzy, especially the release dates, as some sources go by japanese time and some go by american timezones, so just be aware of that.

now, let's talk a bit about mahoyo itself.

mahoyo is a masterpiece. it's a niche game not meant for everyone. its cinematography is top notch among visual novels. its writing style can be off-putting to people who want faster-paced stories. it's one of my most beloved visual novels I've ever played, and I've been in this field for almost a decade and have played well over 100 VNs.

mahoyo is a completely linear visual novel—meaning it has no choices or gameplay—that follows aoko, a high schooler mage trying to balance her perfect school president facade with her secret life as a mage, something she has to keep secret at the risk of death. this is one of the lesser known type-moon works but it's well beloved because of the care put into it.

if you've ever heard someone talk about it, it's almost impossible for them to not mention the visuals. mahoyo is one of the most visually impressive visual novels I've ever seen, with its inspired use of artwork and in-game animations. I cannot recommend this VN enough if you like modern fantasy and don't mind linear VNs.

before we dive into aniplex USA's marketing, I want to clarify a few marketing terms for people who don't market visual novels as a job. marketing is not just advertising—it's everything related to how a product communicates with potential users, including its branding, its packaging, its everything. when marketing a game, you have several different avenues: social media, press & influencers, trailers, store pages, and more.

today I want to show you how, based off what I have researched after a long, manic day, aniplex USA has failed mahoyo on all of these accounts.

so let's go back to its western release.

mahoyo has a few official english channels:

website

twitter

facebook

aniplex also has an official english twitter with almost 500k followers where they shared mahoyo very rarely—only 9 tweets about the game ever.

well, surely their other pages are more maintained right—

both accounts stopped posting July 10th/11th, with their last post being about mahoyo going on sale on consoles. let's look at their posts prior to this, though, starting with the twitter.

we can see that the twitter account was made in december of 2022. if we scroll down far enough (it's not hard, given they only have 33 tweets), we can see that their first tweet was on december 6th 2022:

let's go back to our timeline. can you tell me when mahoyo's remaster released digitally?

yes they made both of the english mahoyo social media accounts the day before the game launched

we can very easily add up the entire social media posts for the game thus far:

mahoyo english twitter - 30 tweets and 3 retweets

mahoyo english facebook - 27 posts

aniplex english twitter - 9 tweets

aniplex english facebook - 2 posts

no other english social media accounts were tied to the website, so these are the only ones I looked at. this means in total, there were only 68 social media posts for the console release of mahoyo by the publisher for english audiences.

but what about the steam release? after the game sold over 150k+ units on consoles, surely aniplex was ready to market it a bit more for pc users—

neither account has made a post about the upcoming steam release.

if we look at the twitter, they have 3 tweets since July that do talk about the upcoming steam release- however, these are retweets from the japanese mahoyo account.

we know that this twitter and this facebook account are the official social media for mahoyo as they're linked on the website, so they're definitely meant to be followed for game updates in the west. well, maybe the english aniplex twitter has posted about it—

none of the english aniplex or mahoyo accounts have made a single post about the steam release

that's right, the social media posts I counted above are the only posts for mahoyo on their english accounts, all dating back before the steam release was announced. since then, they have not made a single original post even mentioning the steam release.

meanwhile, the japanese mahoyo twitter has been hustling hard to promote the upcoming steam release—reposting trailers, character bios, and more almost every day with pretty good numbers.

in fact, the japanese mahoyo twitter did such a good job at marketing it that the aniplex USA twitter never mentioned the english mahoyo twiter, instead only @ ing the japanese one in tweets (despite the english one being linked on the website).

why they even bothered making social media accounts and then not running them despite being one of the largest anime distributors in the world I have no clue.

well, maybe they didn't need to rely on social media presence. maybe they were going for the in-person approach and marketing it at conventions.

mahoyo had basically no anime convention presence

the only reference I can find to aniplex notably promoting mahoyo at any western convention is this tweet of them at anime NYC. from someone who was at anime NYC, I've been told that they pushed the game heavily at their booth with TV screens promoting the game.

however, anime NYC is only one anime convention. you cannot hope to sell a game by just attending one anime convention. mahoyo might have had a presence at other american conventions, but I'm unable to find any images or news about this.

maybe they don't understand type-moon

aniplex is the publisher for fate/grand order, one of the most successful mobile games ever created. they're also the distributor for a majority of type-moon related anime, ranging from fate to garden of sinners to side series. aniplex's marketing team should have lots of experience with type-moon properties.

maybe it was promoted in other aniplex titles

I was also unable to find a news post in fate/grand order related to mahoyo's release, despite news posts for other type-moon series (namely fate but also things like melty blood) getting news posts in fate/grand order. I might've missed the news posts when looking back through FGO but I don't believe there was one.

maybe it sold well in other regions but not western ones

(I'm going to be referring only to the console release for these stats, keep in mind)

mahoyo released December 7th/8th 2022 with an english, japanese, simplified chinese, and traditional chinese translations. at the end of the release week, mahoyo's japanese twitter announced the game had sold 110k copies worldwide and famitsu reported that 66,344 of these units were sold in japan. this means we have around 43k units unaccounted for.

we know the game was available in english, japanese, and chinese languages but we don't know what regions. mainland china has a very large visual novel playerbase (I say this as someone who sells visual novels), which means if it were sold there then it's easy to say that a big chunk of that 43k units could be attributed to them—this also means it would be easy to believe that aniplex saw mahoyo selling worse in western countries and took this as a sign to not promote the game any more there.

but was it ever sold in mainland china? from what I could tell—no.

looking at pricing charts for the nintendo eshop and the playstation store, china is not listed on either. furthermore, searching the game's chinese title on the chinese playstation store does not bring back any results. it looks like the only predominantly chinese-speaking regions that were able to buy it are hong kong, taiwan and possibly singapore (the playstation store page for it doesn't look like it's available for purchase anymore).

so what does this tell us?

without any other numbers it's hard to tell how many of the 43k launch week sales came from english-speaking players, but even if we conservatively say that only around 20k of the 110k launch week units were from western countries, that's still almost a million in revenue (and remember, the physical limited edition of the game was available in english for $60, which is $20 more than the digital base version).

maybe the store page is so good they don't need to market it

here's a little secret: store pages matter a lot more than you'd think. there are entire job positions dedicated to tailoring store pages (like a steam game page) to make it perfect for the game's target audience. there's a science to it that includes the artwork, descriptions, tags, screenshots, and more.

let's see what aniplex did for the steam page of mahoyo.

A tale told with vivid colors and rich sound in a classic TYPE-MOON visual novel.

I don't know how to describe this short description charitably other than to say it sounds like a person who's never heard of a visual novel has been tasked with describing a visual novel.

this tells me nothing about the game other than it's a visual novel. I hope you know what type-moon is, because if you don't then you've learned nothing else from this. alright, well, let's look at the screenshots—

there's only 1.

currently as of writing this, there's 10 images uploaded as screenshots (no trailers, they keep adding and removing the trailers for some reason). 9 of these images are just the full artworks from the game while 1 is an actual screenshot.

I really hate this, as you're not actually shown what the game looks like unless you look at the very last screenshot. this will absolutely lead to some people not understanding what they're getting into. what's worse is that some of these CGs are spoilers, especially one in particular featuring my wife touko.

why are we spoiling people instead of showing them screenshots? why not show people what mahoyo actually looks like??

there's also absolutely no use of the announcements section on steam. each game on steam can post announcements related to the game, including upcoming releases, new updates, and more. it's customary to post a steam announcement when a game has a release date announcement. mahoyo's steam page has none.

well they probably released the trailers in english for hype

I wish I had that much hope.

on mahoyo's english website, all of the videos listed are from the official type-moon youtube, which is their japanese channel. type-moon went through the effort to translate these videos. aniplex didn't upload these to their own youtube, where they already upload everything related to the fateverse and nasuverse.

searching up witch on the holy night brings up no results for the trailer—aniplex never uploaded the trailer to their channel.

maybe they got influencers to play it

according to steamdb, the max amount of viewers mahoyo streams have had on twitch was 71 viewers.

furthermore, if we check twitch and look for vods attached to mahoyo, we only find 4 videos total, all of which were posted in the past week. it looks like they didn't even reach out to streamers to play the console release, much less pay them.

over on the press side, it does look like they reached out to at least a few reviewers. for example, on the review by noisy pixel, they clarify that a review copy was provided by the publisher for review purposes. we can add that to the bare minimum of marketing—reaching out to press.

however, they did get for some other influencers to share the game! ...twitter game sale influencers, that is.

there's actually a lot more of these types of tweets for mahoyo than I was expecting when I searched it on twitter. as a friend pointed out, just because it says "#ad" doesn't necessarily mean these were paid for by aniplex—a lot of these links look to be referrals, which means they're getting a cut of any purchases.

let's recap

mahoyo released over 110k copies in the launch week for it's worldwide console release despite very, very limited marketing efforts from its publisher aniplex. now that the game has proven it can sell very well despite being a lesser known linear visual novel, aniplex has done no marketing for the steam release- no tweets, no influencer outreach, no localization of trailers, no announcements via steam, nothing.

so why?

why does aniplex want mahoyo to fail?

even after all of this, I still do not know why. to me, it's clear that the marketing team at aniplex were (most likely) given no budget for this game and just couldn't do anything with it, deciding to spend what little money they had on press outreach and an anime NYC booth.

but why? why didn't aniplex give them a budget, even a small one? why was their budget so tiny they couldn't even afford to tweet? to RT more posts from the japanese twitter? to share the already translated trailers to their own accounts?

I've heard a few excuses like "type-moon hates western fans and probably caused it" but this doesn't make any sense either. why would you authorize a translation of your game and allow your publisher to sell the game overseas but specifically make them not market the game (and what publisher would agree to that)? I've even heard excuses like "they just forgot it was coming out", to which I ask "how does an entire marketing team (a company the size of aniplex absolutely has a team(s) for marketing and not a singular person) forget a release for a game that's already sold over 150k copies?". the only excuse I've seen that I somewhat buy is that they did not have much faith in the game and relied almost entirely on fans doing word of mouth marketing for the game.

I don't think we'll ever get an answer. while I do believe the marketing team at aniplex was most likely given no budget for mahoyo, it still begs the question of why. why did someone at aniplex not want to give mahoyo a marketing budget? why are the japanese accounts for mahoyo and type-moon the only ones doing the marketing?

I hope the information I've provided here is accurate—if it's not, I'll try to update with corrections. I don't want this piece to cast hate towards the staff at aniplex or anyone involved with this projects, I'm just trying to assemble the pieces on what feels like a game being left to word of mouth. I've tried to include as many links to my sources as I could so you could come to your own judgements about what has happened regarding mahoyo's worldwide release.

mahoyo is a visual novel that's dear to me and will absolutely sell well on steam—with an estimated 50-80k wishlists, it's going to have a solid launch despite the zero marketing for its steam release. if you love other type-moon works or want to see an absolutely visually stunning visual novel, please check it out.

— arimia

[anniebeckcalla]

𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘴 𝘶𝘱! ※。.:*:

╰┈➤ ...cooking with the dreamies

style: 3rd person, non-idol au wc:N/A cw: fluff, slight ooc [haechan's one isn't really about cooking]

calla's note: thanks for supporting my blog guys, you're awesome

𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦

he saw a cooking hack for ramen on xhs and now wants to try it. you want to join in on the fun, but chenle won't hear of it. he wants to have a chance to show you how good he is at providing for you. the recipe has something to do with a stove, cheese, and buldak noodles - pretty straightforward. you wish that you were cooking with him, but you decide to sit back and let him do all the work. big mistake. when chenle serves up the dish, you realise that he accidentally put sugar instead of salt in the food, making it a very odd experience. when you look up at him, though, he looks so hopeful that you decide to pretend that you're enjoying the meal. it's his first time here, after all.

𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘰

after finding a recipe for bento cakes, you and jeno decided to make one for each other. you can't take anything seriously, and you laugh endlessly as you spill the ingredients and get the cake batter all over your apron and face. however, jeno takes the activity very seriously, measuring the ingredients with precision and cleaning up after every little spillage. when you put your cakes in the oven, jeno is careful to make sure that the temperature and timing are perfect. as you ice the cakes, your silliness devolves into frustration when your cake decoration looks like a sloppy mess. jeno's cake, of course, looks too beautiful to eat. it's okay, though. he's quick to help you with your cake and wordlessly clears up all the mess you made. the cakes are delicious, of course.

𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘯

you and renjun make biscuits (americans, these are sugar cookies) to take with you on a picnic. you suggest making chocolate chip, but renjun wants to add…interesting ingredients, such as lavender and dried strawberries. you allow renjun to take the lead, even if you don't feel very pleased about it deep inside. renjun wants you both to be involved in making the biscuits, and so he encourages you to take the lead in various steps during the baking- measuring the ingredients, chopping the dried herbs and fruit, cutting the shapes of the dough. you start to feel like you're having fun, but as the biscuits bake in the oven, rain starts to fall on the window. you're distraught, but renjun is quick to put a happy spin on the situation. instead, you eat the biscuits with tea in front of the television, and even if they're different, they're very delicious.

𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯

haechan is taking the lead in cooking- why wouldn't he? he's operating the barbecue at the party that your friend is holding. haechan smirks at you as he flips the juicy meat patties, making sure that he cooks one of them extra well just for you. he places it inside a nice fluffy bun, spooning on just the right amount of garnish, sauce, and cheese, handing you your burger with an ice cold can. “Hey,” shouts another party goer, “why isn't my burger nice like that too?” haechan smiles. “it's for the special people only,” he replies, winking at you.

𝘫𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯

you and jaemin had happily started out making pizzas. one cheese, one hawaiian, and one pepperoni. if there was any dough left over, you'd make a stuffed crust pizza to go with it, too.

that was two hours ago.

now you and jaemin stand in the middle of the kitchen, covered in flour, pots piled high in the sink, and the charred remains of what once were pizzas on the worktop. (jaemin had set the temperature too high.) jaemin taps on his phone, his smile growing. “what are you laughing at?” you snap. jaemin looks up. “i'm getting us some real pizza,” he says. “i’m not eating that homemade coal over there.” you roll your eyes. “what about the dishes?” jaemin stacks a huge pile of pots. “I'll find a way to fit them in the dishwasher.” you sigh, but you're so tired out with your failed attempts at cooking that you decide not to argue.

𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬

“will you look at that!” mark pulls the macaroni cheese out of the oven, golden and bubbling with perfection. you glance at him and feel yourself blushing at how perfect he looks with a tea towel slung over his shoulder, his hair brushed back, and his glasses fogged up from the steam. with a brawny arm, he ladles the macaroni onto two plates along witb some pre-prepared cornbread. you stare down at the food lovingly. it's perfect. what's better is that it's made out of love by the both of you. “can you get some drinking glasses for us, please?” mark takes off his glasses and rubs the lenses with the tea towel. without hesitation, you go to the cupboard and reach up to the glasses, but then you laugh as mark comes up behind you and encircles your waist with his strong arms, pressing kisses into your nape. this meal is definitely going to be a fun one.

𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨

jisung places his hands on your shoulders, eyes pleading. “please can we cook, y/n? i'm begging you.” you stepped out of his grip. “i told you, no. have a good think about what happened last time we cooked.” jisung paused, and his face turned into a guilty scowl. last time you two had been in the kitchen, (making mochi) you had ended up shouting nasty things at each other (jisung actually managed to make you cry) ruining your best pan (it had to go in the bin) and giving yourselves food poisoning (you had spent the following day in amu.)

“i’m sorry, y/n,” jisung said. “we can make it better this time.” you shook your head. your weren't taking chances. “okay, how about we do something simple like ramen?” jisung held his hands out. you considered it. ramen sounded like a good idea, and you were quite hungry. “if you're mean at all, i’ll launch you out of the window,” you promised, allowing jisung to pull you to the kitchen.

taglist: @cigsaftersuh @jenoleeaesthetic @jeonghansshitester @pl4netx1a @herjaemin

masterlist

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

mastermind - d.m

sweet nothing | the great war | masterlist

Warnings: none

Summary: the one where derek morgan realises that you had fallen for him

Wordcount: 1.8k

Derek Morgan was everything that every girl wanted. He was tall, dark, handsome. That was what every woman wanted. Not only that, but he had the best personality. He was so kind, and charming, good with kids, funny. What list didn’t he check? There was so much that you could say about your co-worker of 18 months and yet that in itself would take thousands of words.

It was November and there was a chill in the air, one you had gotten used to in your 18 months working at quantico. You remembered your first day there, locking eyes with the federal agent who was now walking alongside you. He had made you feel so welcome the moment and eased all of your nerves on the first day. It was like the planets and the stars had aligned, bringing you both together.

From that first day, the two of you had clicked instantly and it was like you had known each other for forever. There was nobody else in your life that you had ever bonded with so quickly.

The only issue with him is that he was a bit of a playboy. He had so many women that he would talk to and they would all love him and have sex with him and that was all you had ever wanted from him. Knowing that you would never get to have that side of him made your chest ache.

You looked up at him to see that he was already looking down at you, his deep brown eyes staring at you so intently in a different way than normal; or at least, you had never noticed this gaze before.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked.

“Like what?” He quirked an eyebrow up, like he knew exactly how he was looking at you but was not ready to explain it yet.

“Like there’s something on your mind,” you were both profilers, there was no way of avoiding the questions. You could read each other well enough by now.

“You know there’s not usually anything on my mind,” he teased, a slight pull of his lips.

You snorted at his comment, he never failed to make you smile. Derek smiled at the way that you laughed shortly at his comment, the way your head tipped back, the crinkle by your eyes. He would never get bored of the sight.

You shook your head, dropping the subject, “Whatever,”

“Whatever?” He repeated your comment with the same inflection.

You shrugged your shoulder before looking right in front of you, avoiding eye contact. If he wasn’t going to tell you, you weren’t going to bug him, ”You don't have to tell me,”

“I know,”

You hummed in response. There was something going on here that you weren’t sure of. You would figure it out soon enough, you promised yourself, you always did. He couldnt hide anything major from you.

You had been close ever since your first case, where you had sat next to him nervously on the plane, explains your irrational fear of planes. Reid told you that it wasn’t irrational, spewing facts about the amount of Americans afraid of flying. Morgan just promised you that he would sit by your side the whole time. And as the plane came down to land, he held onto your hand as you squeezed your eyes shut.

That was the kind of man Derek was, one who would sit and hold a complete strangers hand just to make sure they were comforted. The touch of his hand had lit a fuse inside of you and you were still reeling from his touch.

So why was he being weird?

as a profiler, your mind started to race a hundred miles a minute as you wondered what you could have done to make him act this way. Maybe you had gone too far with a joke, made him uncomfortable somehow. God, had you flirted with him?

“You cold?” He asked and you looked up at him, his voice breaking you out of your destructive thoughts.

You hadn’t even noticed the way that your arms were wrapping around your body in an attempt to warm up, the cold was bothering you but you would never admit it to him, not after he had annoyed you.

You shook your head, “I’m a big girl,”

He left it there, muttering something under his breath about how you should just accept it before the two of you started walking in silence again along the tree lined street.

It was peaceful with him, it always was. He could never bother you for long, but as you walked along the trees, orange leaves falling off the trees and landing on the ground beneath your boots, there was something off.

As you walked along, you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on a couple across the street. They were holding hands and after a few moments, the guy took off his coat and draped it over the girls shoulders. She smiled at him bashfully, cheeks warming up before they kept watching. You tilted your head back to look at them for a moment longer.

You could feel your face warming. That was all you wanted, someone to love you like that, to the point of carelessness for themselves. There was that all consuming loneliness that had been bothering you ever since you realised your fruitless crush on SSA Derek Morgan.

Derek noticed that your eyes had lingered on the couple a little longer than most people’s would and he wondered what was going on with you.

“Take my jacket,” he demanded after a few steps, pulling off the leather jacket that he had been wearing all afternoon. His arms were covered in goosebumps within seconds but he couldn’t care less.

“No thanks,” you shook your head, folding your arms across your chest.

He scoffed, “No thanks?”

“I didnt realise I was walking with a parrot,” you spat back at him, speeding up your walking to get away from him.

He did the same thing in response, jogging slightly to catch up with you. He shook his head, confused as to why you were acting like such a brat today.

“Why can’t you accept my kind gesture?” He questioned.

“I am fine,”

“You want it, I know you do! So what’s your problem?” He reached over, a hand coming down on your shoulder and he felt how cold you were.

You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and his shoes skidded to a halt to stop alongside you and that is when he saw how angry you were, brows pulled together, “My problem is that if I wear it into that building I am going to get the same spiel that I normally get behind my back!”

the admission made your cheeks heat up. Nobody had ever liked you as a kid and you had schemed and begged to make friends. Everyone was always talking behind your back about you and although you had friends here, you always worried they were still talking about you

“What are you talking about?” He questioned. This was it, he had finally cracked why you were being so pissy towards him.

Your chest heaved at the thought of admitting everything to him and you pondered for a second on the consequences of your actions, on how you would have to go back to the office feeling like shit. And before you could even stop yourself, all the words were spilling out of your mouth, “Everyone in the office can see that I have feelings for you! It is so painfully obvious and I can see them whisper every time we talk and-“

Derek cut you off with the sound of your name and you froze, letting the word wash over you. there was something about the way he said it that calmed you in an instant.

He was looking at you with a face that you had never seen on him before. That’s a lie you had seen it before, it was a face that was reserved for the family members of victims at work. It was pity. The face made you sick.

You furrowed your brows together, anger boiling in your veins again, “No. They think I follow after you like some lovesick puppy, like I am always dragging you around places and they think it’s just me being delusional and I know that so-”

Derek shook his head. The face he was pulling wasn’t one of pity, it was of adoration, that kind of love that poured out of every pore in your body as the person you loved made themselves look stupid.

He took a step towards you, his hands coming to your face and you froze, the crease between your brow deepening as you tried to figure out what was going on but before you could say anything, he was leaning in.

“Shut up pretty girl,” his voice was low and there was a look in his eyes you had seen directed at you hundreds of times before but you had never known what it meant. It was love.

He leaned in slowly, watching as your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. The first kiss shared between the two of you was the definition of perfect. His head tilted to the side slightly as he pressed his lips against yours, pressing with just the right amount of pressure to make your head dizzy with desire.

he pulled away after a second and your head fell down to his shoulder, a giggle escaping your lips as you realised what had just happened. Your hands came up to his shoulders, grounding yourself.

there was a heat spreading through your body and you weren’t cold anymore. This explains why he had been so weird earlier, because he was waiting to admit this to you.

“Does that seem delusional to you?” He asked when you pulled your head away from his shoulder.

You shook your head, hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered you were at the whole experience.

He looked down at the jacket that he had been holding onto in his free hand the whole time and lifted it up so you could see it, “Take my jacket,”

You nodded your head this time, not trying to fight him this time. Derek slung it over your shoulders, it smells like him.

You smiled up at him like this was the best day of your life and he only made it better with the words that slipped from his mouth afterwards at the sight of your joy, “I’m taking you to dinner tonight, you tell them all that, let ‘em whisper,”

You always thought that you had been the one in control but maybe he was the mastermind the whole time, and now you were his and he was yours.

[despazito]

You're not being a dick! The dog world can be very convoluted.

Most reputable breeders show their dogs, and honestly it's a red flag if your breeder doesn't do any kind of activities with their animals (doesn't necessarily have to be conformation showing, can be any work/sports or obedience eventing).

Usually most of their puppies will go to pet homes, and breeders occasionally pick puppies they really like for showing/breeding prospects or opt to co-own with somebody who will show the dog under the kennel's name. The amount of puppies per litter who have showing potential can depend on how successful the parents are in the ring and how sought after the bloodlines are, but even if they look right they have to have a good temperament to be handled in the ring, and it's not uncommon for pups to fail that training and just become pets. There really shouldn't be a drastic range in soundness between show and pet quality puppies within the same litter or kennel. Most pups do end up in pet homes, and all show dogs are also beloved pets that are often extremely spoiled and doted on!

All these puppies will receive the same care and upbringing show quality or not, although I will say there are instances of puppies being put to sleep for being born without signature breed traits such as ridgeless Rhodesian ridgebacks, but nowadays that's a fringe minority. A good breeder will want all their puppies going to good homes regardless of showdog potential where they will all hopefully have the best QOL.

As for being "better off" if they're closer to the breed standard, that really depends on the standard! Most standards are fine, but here's an illustration of an ideal English bulldog from the American EB club:

imo a dog bred away from this standard to have a longer snout and less bulkiness that has a lower likelihood of developing brachycephalic obstructive airway syndrome, a condition which hinders QOL, would be 'better' than one bred closer to standard. This is why I'm cautious of the assumption that breeding to standard=breeding to health, because a handful of standards straight up encourage unhealthy traits..

That being said, someone not breeding to standard and not showing their dogs really should have solid reasoning and an explanation of their goals as a breeder. Because folks who simply "want to breed pets" with random dogs are almost always backyard breeders who breed unsound dogs with dubious temperaments. If they aren't producing working dogs or have extensive history with dogs and are working on, say, an outcross project or trying to solve a health issue within their breed that involves straying from the standard I would be weary of them (and an intensively researched outcross project is not the same as simply breeding doodles, the breeder should have a rigorous health testing scheme for the parents and choose the cross based on more than just how cute the puppies will look and the catchiness of the designer name. if it sounds like they're pulling something out of their ass to justify the breeding, i would leave).

in theory, getting a puppy from titled showdog parents should be an assurance of quality. it shows the parents are even tempered enough to perform in a show ring with many other intact dogs and be handled and touched all over by the judges without any aggression (very green flag if you're looking into serious breeds known for being temperamental). but not all clubs imo have strict enough health screening policies, so sadly a champion parent is not an automatic guarantee that your pup is free of inheritable disease, some of which can be sadly quite nasty. in the very worst cases a breeder can even ignore their dogs hereditary issues because the dog is very pretty and wins ribbons, and you can't always count on club authorities to pull poorly dogs from the ring. this is why i think there needs to be more veterinary involvement in conformation judging and non-optional screenings to enter based on common health issues seen in the breed. you'd be surprised how lax some health screening criteria can be even in the highest rungs of conformation.

in conclusion, it really depends on the breed and the breeder. the best thing you can do is your own research, get familiar with common health issues in your desired breed, and ask your prospective breeder if they've done the proper testing. ask ask ask. a good breeder should be proud of their kennel and bloodlines, if they're cagey run away!!

[boba-beom]

me running full speed to your inbox because you said taehyun (it’s me the full time taehyun simp)

fratboy football player taehyun x cheerleader!reader 😁😁😁 (i know he’s more of a soccer guy but BARE W MEEE)

honestly football players txt all of them… sookai ate this up in ways i can’t even describe

good girl cheerleader reader who’s a little ditzy but she’s so sweet n sugary… tutoring w/ football player tyun who’s also top of his classes cos he’s just so smart hehe .. the tension at his games good lord

RAAAAAH YES AND YES LIA OMGGG YOU DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND MY JAW DROPPED 🫠

footballer!taehyun x cheerleader!reader suggestive thoughts (literally all over the place bear with me)

first of all I LOVE this concept, and I wholeheartedly agree that sookai ate up that fit but they’re a good looking group of guys who can fu—

idk what it is but when you mentioned ‘sweet n sugary’ I get it, I really do omfg. like every time the cheerleaders have a dress rehearsal you’re all out on the field beside where the footballers have their training outdoors. short fitting shorts under the cute flap of your mini pleated skirt and your fitted long sleeved bodysuit with the university’s logo and the name of the football team you’re supporting.

literally going insane over the fact taehyun most likely watches the cheerleaders, specifically you, doing cartwheels and splits, his tongue poking his cheek once he sees just how flexible you are. probably storing it in a compartment in his brain with a massive label addressed as your name in bold and all caps.

thing is, taehyun knows you’re too good and a little ditzy to even realise half of the team is salivating over you. even better, you don’t know what he thinks when he watches you, thinking he’s giving you innocent eye contact from where he was watching.

tutoring with him must be fun. he knows your ditzy, but also knows you’re academically competent. he knows that when you set your mind to it, you’re able to do it with confidence. hence your place in cheer since the selection for the group wasn’t easy.

during your tutoring sessions you’d sometimes come in your practice clothes after a cheer rehearsal—the clothes being a oversized cropped tshirt and skin tight booty shorts that leaves little to the imagination. sitting next to taehyun and he instantly glances down at the meat of your thighs while you take your books and laptop out.

occasionally, he’d be talking to you about a section within the subject in which you’re struggling in but far from failing. you just want all your grades to be as good as his. he’s been your inspiration this whole time anyway. and sometimes when you work out the questions a little quicker than he does, he lays his warm palm against your inner knee and caresses your exposed skin gently, cooing praises like, “you’ve gotten better I see.” or even a, “atta girl” 😵‍💫🫠🤯

and the games THE GAMES 😵‍💫 I just know tension rises during the games, knowing just how competitive he can be and you’re cheering as hard as you can for the home team, for taehyun. just like when the cheerleaders are performing at the beginning of the game (idk how it works I’m sorry I’ve never been to … nor seen an american football game cjdmdk) the footballers are all getting ready to enter the field, and once the performance is done you make sure to make eye contact with taehyun and blowing him a kiss with a wink. that’ll for sure keep his energy up at the beginning of the game.

and let’s say the home team won 🤭 and the cheer squad end with another performance, you run up to taehyun and congratulate him for being one of the teams best players that evening. smiling up at him with your sweet smile, asking him if you can be his plus one to the team’s celebration later that night. how can taehyun refuse?

“‘course you can, doll. want you by my side tonight, m’kay?” and he’d cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin until he slides his hand to cup your jaw, then a little lower to hold onto your neck with no pressure.

and all you do is nod with your pretty doe eyes and your pretty, perfect smile that has him wrapped around your finger. boy does taehyun want to ditch that afterparty and take you home to ruin in his sheets. because fuck the tension, he wants you. he always has.

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[pennyserenade]

picture this | chris o'doyle x reader

summary | there is an american woman, famous for her place in the background of protest photograph, and there is man from the ira. one week of every summer their infamous lives join and they forge a simple something a part from it all. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | ira mention, vietnam war mention, smut, a little bit of an age gap (reader is around 30, chris is 40), friends with benefits, co-workers (?) with benefits, protected sex, fingering, pinv, consensual sex, tender word count | 3.8k a/n | this took way too long to write and i'm sorry about that, but i hope you enjoy it!

Near the middle where the bone protruded on her knee, there was a dainty, thin scar that grew fainter with time. Somewhere–in past publications and museums, in scrapbooks and freshly-printed history books–the scar is being newly formed: she is twenty-two, attending her senior year of college and nothing makes more sense to her than standing up for other people. There is a sign in her hand, uncomplicated in both its design–white board, black lettering–and its demand (PEACE IN VIETNAM). Her youthful face is twisted in pain, her fingers folding the edges of the sign in agony as one knee touches the cement. If the camera had shuttered one second later, you would watch as the other gave way too, and you would see her mouth open wide to let out a scream that would only be masked in the cacophony of other screams.

She is not front in center in the photograph, but near the middle, only captured because of the chance way the bodies moved in that single, precise moment. Behind her is a crowd of soldiers, no older than any of the other students, who will later claim they did not strike first. They will accuse a dusty blond boy who died a week later from injuries he sustained during this photograph. This happened at a college campus she thought she would love forever. Now the degree she got there collected dust in a drawer, and she spent much of her free time trying to do anything that mattered.

Tonight, Chris found she was uncharacteristically romantic, full of cheap, potent beer and the inane idea that because they met once a year and fucked without purpose, that what they did was markedly adult. It wasn’t that she really thought that, but was an easy notion to be taken with; friends she had known in college were getting married and settling down, or already had, and the most consistent relationship she’d had in five years was this annual, week-long endeavor. Of course she knew that what they did was more sophomoric than trying at a real relationship and failing, but she could delude herself into thinking it was more mature on the basis that she did not love him and he did not love her. She told herself because they liked each other intellectually, personally, apart from having sex, it was different:. They had shared interests. He really did think she was clever. When he laughed, the laugh came from some place within him, an innocuous place that did not have coal to burn from in Ireland, but stirred happily back to life with her. When he kissed her, he did it for pleasure. He let her dress and undress herself. He lit her cigarettes the way he did for other acquaintances. When they were at her apartment like this, locked together in the quiet hours of the night, she was unabashed, witty, the least vain and neurotic version of herself.

Chris’ leather jacket hung on the back of a chair in her kitchen, his shoes tucked vertically by the door. His arm sloped over the back of the sofa, hovering near her body but not quite reaching it. In his current state, he looked at perfect ease: dress shirt unbuttoned, the glimmer of his silver St. Christopher’s pendant shining beneath the harsh lighting, a content smile on his face. If one were to glimpse inside her home, one might think he was a permanent resident.

“For a man so supposedly out of touch with the world, that mustache of yours is pretty in vogue, don’t you think?” she teased warmly, nodding towards his mouth. Her beer bottle sweated against the coffee table, without a coaster to protect the wood beneath it.

Growing more comfortable, Chris’ hand moved down, his fingers grazing against her knee. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks almost immediately, and he knew that the touch excited her, simple as it was. She watched carefully as he leaned down, quiet, and pressed his lips to the scar there. It was intimate, too familiar. She was an adult, steady minded, logical, and yet the simple act drove her to wordlessness. This was what a week with Chris always looked like, why she so craved it and feared it: it dizzied her, grounded her in a place that had not ever existed since she was twenty-two. It came back with tenacity whenever he stepped into her life.

Chris had no shame, leveling a satisfied smirk in her direction. He took in the sight of her face, his hand traveling further up her leg, exploring the width of her smooth thigh beneath his hand. She became tense under his touch, taut with anticipation. He nudged her legs apart with a tap of his fingers. Slowly, as if she had never done it before - not for him, not for anyone - she spread them apart.

“That’s right, my girl,” he cooed. Beneath the fabric of his tight slacks, his cock began to stir in interest.

This was a ritual his body knew what was going to happen next–because it always happened next. His pale blue eyes went a shade darker, the pupils widening as he trailed over the insides of her thighs with his fingers. Up close like this, he could smell the perfume on her, a heady, intoxicating scent that he relished as she leaned back on the couch for him. He rose up to her neck, tonguing at the flesh nearest to her throat, humming contentedly as her thighs attempted to close around his explorative hand.

He nudged alongside her jawline with his nose, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Beneath her skirt, he began rubbing soothing circles on her thighs. He could feel the heat emitting from her cunt, was thoroughly taken with the idea that in this state, he could just as well do anything he wanted to her. For months now, he’d been thinking of this, of her — of her soft whimpers, of the scrunch of her face as she came, of the taste of her, acidic and lovely. He’d palmed himself in the dark of night too many times to count, re-imagining the moments she hung up her inhibitions for him. He wanted her more than he could bring himself to admit.

He reached up and felt for the outline of her underwear. There was nothing. “No knickers?” he murmured against the warmth of her skin.

She shook her head, almost coy.

Chris pressed his lips to hers then. At first a light peck, the feeling of her lips against his was better than he remembered - better than anything he could possibly imagine - and he could not help drawing himself more closely to her. His hand carded through her hair, and when she opened his mouth for him, he groaned softly, ghosting his mouth above her own. They sat like that for a moment, staring at one another, measuring the depths of each other’s want before his tongue touched hers, and she eagerly gripped on the side of his shirt, pulling his body over her own. His feather touches on her thighs crept higher and higher until his fingers ghosted over her cunt. She canted her hips up, pleading silently, as his tongue ran over the top of her mouth, possessive and needy.

“What’s a matter, darlin’? No one touched you while I was away?” he teased. The Irish lilt drove her wild as it spread itself across the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Her nails dug into his side and Chris relished in the sting of it – at this something painful, that could also be nice. There was always a terrible, incessant part of him that wanted to know that things could still be nice.

She attempted to mold her form to his again, mewling from his curious lack of inattention. Chris grinned – nearly beamed – as if in wanting him, she was granting him some longed desired freedom. He knew her cunt ached for him; he felt the heat of it as his hand cascaded further up. Instead of touching her, he brushed lightly over her, grazing everywhere except the spots that would do anything for her. A protest finally rose up in her throat, but as Chris pushed the fabric of her skirt around her waist, whistling at the sight of her before him, it only came out as a weak sound instead. She looked at him, glassy eyed. Even in the dim lighting, he could see her glisten.

The alcohol made her pliant, but not incapable; whereas sober she probably wouldn’t let his curious eyes linger as long as they were, she allowed it now, slightly thrilled. The feeling ran up her spine when he brought fingers to her, spreading her puffy lips apart. She stifled a moan, gripping the edge of her couch, arching into his touch. With Chris, nothing ever managed to feel lewd; it felt like the most correct thing in the world, like he was drawing up a map and saying ‘this is where you are, this is where you belong, this is what you’re meant to do.’ It made her dizzy, how much she wanted him to merely touch her – not to mention how badly she wanted his cock, his tongue, anything at all. She wanted to tell him. To say: you could do anything you want with me. I’ll lie on the carpet, naked, let you look forever if you just keep looking at me like that, making me feel like this. Keep making me want you, just this much.

She didn't feel bad about it all—it made her feel strangely, inexplicably whole. Better because she didn’t love him, because she only liked him, and he only liked her, and yet they still wanted to touch one another like this, look at each other like that. She’d waited her whole life to feel that way.

“You’re mine,” he told her. The voice sounded as it came from deep within him, a place he didn’t rightly know existed until it did and he couldn’t help but reveal it. “Aren’t you? My girl, waiting for my fingers–” he circled over her opening, watching blurry eyed the way it closed around nothing “--waiting for my cock, wearing no knickers, hoping that I’ll what?” When they made eye contact, she found she never wanted to tear her eyes away from him again. He looked like he could devour her whole. “That I’d notice, fuck you soon as I seen you?”

He clicked his tongue, entering a single one of his thick fingers into her cunt. He tightened his jaw, watching the way it disappeared into the warmth of her. She was wet as hell. When she pushed at his shoulder, squirming a little beneath him, his lips curled up at the end into a small, genuine grin. He liked the way her face contorted, how she pushed even though she wanted more.

“That f–feels good,” she moaned.

“So fucking wet–” He entered another finger into her.

His nose once more rubbed along the smooth outline of her face. How badly he wanted to know the entire shape of her–to reach inside, extract a piece to take home. His fingers rubbed against the spongy top of her walls, and he measured the beat of her heart, the wavering of her breath, the ghost of her against his skin as he adjusted above her. His other hand grazed beneath the fabric of her shirt, peeling it up.

As he hung his head, a shag of hair concealed his face. She pinned it back just as he licked just above her breast. Her body arched up towards his own and he groaned, pulling his now wet fingers out of her and gripping at her hip. He pinned her against him, knocked his nose against hers, before kissing her; he sucked at her bottom lip, ran his tongue over the back of her teeth.

Chris wanted her to make a mess of him, and to let him make a mess of her. He wanted her spread and wet, wanted to plunge his cock deeply inside of her, wanted to run his tongue over the creases between her legs, wanted to suck her clit, bite her nipples, to see her mouth around his cock, his fingers, wanted to watch her pupils dilate, her mouth form into a neat ‘o’, to hear the thud of her heart against his ear, a sound that would no doubt make his own heart beat quicker, and more happily than it had in months.

“Please,” she told him, and he couldn’t resist.

Her fingers found the buttons on his dress shirt and diligently began to undo them as he reached between their bodies to push down his slacks. As she moved the shirt down his arms, he caught her lips against own again.

“D’you have a condom?” he asked, urgent.

“Over there.“ She pointed to the drawer beside them. He kissed her again before leaning over and grabbing the pack out of the assortment of junk she had stored there.

His brows furrowed as he took one of the wrappers out of the pack. He tried not to think entirely much about the fact that there was empty space where others had been, and tore the end as she hooked her fingers beneath his underwear and drew them down around his hips.

Swallowing, he took himself in his hand. As he pinched the tip of the latex, she reached out, stilling his hands. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she was doing it. He watched with widened eyes as she put her mouth around the weeping tip of his cock, taking him slowly into the warmth of her mouth. His fingers gripped the back of the couch and he sucked in a shallow breath. “Jesus Mary—“ he uttered, face tinting red. Her eyes glanced up and he nearly shuddered; they were glassy, impish, delighted as she flattened her tongue on the underside of his cock, tracing the vein up.

He felt drunk when she hummed around him — everything going straight to his brain all of the sudden. What she could not put in her mouth, she stroked with her hand. Chris could not peel his eyes from her. She’d done this before, of course, but never with so much self-possession. Saliva glistened on his cock and cornered the edges of her lips as she pulled back. He wanted to reach out, to touch her. To tell her good girl and watch the way the praise settled over her skin. But it all happened too quickly; she was already moving off of his cock before the words could come up. “

Now,” she told him, still holding him in her hand.

Chris understood; he nodded and adroitly peeled the condom over himself.

She laid back, spreading her legs apart to make room for him. He looked down at her, reverent, but still with the mind to be clever. “Mind me if I’m wrong, but I thought you women liked a bit of foreplay?” he joked, running his finger alongside her thigh.

Her lips mirrored his own. “This entire day’s been foreplay.” Her own fingers sprawled against his stomach, wrapping around his sides. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Like you said, I’ve wanted you to take me as soon as you saw me.”

It didn’t take much more convincing for him. His head dipped, his mouth on hers as he guided her back on the couch. She wrapped a leg around him, their tongues rolling against one another’s as he positioned himself over her. Even through the cotton of his undershirt, he could feel her pebbled nipples against his chest. He sighed, kissing at her jaw, her neck, leaving wet kisses over her collarbone. Reaching between her legs, he ran two fingers through her folds, testing how slick she was for him. He sucked hard on the skin over her breast—hard enough to leave a bruise—and hummed agreeably as she coated his fingers.

“My naughty, naughty American,” he delighted. He spread her folds apart with his fingers, rubbing over her core teasingly. She looked him in the eye, mouth parting to let mouth a silent moan.

Chris repositioned, replacing his fingers with his cock, rubbing the head of it through her folds. He went slack jawed with her as he teased the tip inside of her, stretching her entrance with the fat head of it. Her nails, which had been ghosting over his skin, dug in slightly. After a few moments, he pulled back out, much to both of their dismay.

“Don’t know if you’re wet enough,” he whispered against her lips, grinding his hips in an upward motion. She whined, pouting.

“I am,” she insisted.

“Not for me,” he replied, his hand reaching back between their bodies. He pressed two fingers inside of her, grinning as her brows drew together. “You’re mine,” he told her again, dragging his fingers along her walls. “You can fill yourself with whatever or whoever you like while I’m gone, but I want it to be known that this—“ he rubbed the top of her cunt, reaching a deep part of her that made her squirm. “—is mine. All fucking mine.”

She was intoxicated, the heady fumes of desire spreading out around them. He thrust his fingers inside of her, widening them apart to stretch her for him. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she brought him down to kiss her. He did, parting from her only to cast his translucent eyes down to where he was touching her.

“Fuck, I’m wet enough, Chris,” she said murmured his lips, frustrated. He laughed.

“Not enough. Want you dripping,” he said back, a bit stern. She could see it, suddenly, the way she hadn’t ever been able to before: an etch of seriousness that told her he could be a somber man. She found it terribly attractive. She sucked at the end of his tongue.

“If you fuck me properly, I will be,” she retorted, drawing her fingers around his sides, up to his back. She traced alongside his spine.

He scoffed, though she could see in his eyes he liked the teasing.

“You’re not being very nice to me. Don’t know if I should.” They both watched as he dragged his wet fingers up to her puffy clit. He traced wide, light circles around it. She held her breath, drawing her legs up involuntarily for him.

“You’re clenching around nothing, baby. What a pity.”

“Chris—“ she breathed out. “Chris.”

“Yes, that’ll do,” he nodded in approval, righting himself over her again. He applied more pressure on her clit.

“My pretty-“ Chris took himself in his hand again, lining his cock over her entrance, “-pretty girl all worked up.” He shook his head as if chiding, before thrusting his hips forward slowly. His eyes followed his cock as it disappeared into her, her cunt stretching beautifully around him. She was a goddess, laid out before him, wanting and waiting. Despite his desire for all of her, he thrilled at the slow taking of her. He was savoring it, remembering the tightness of her cunt, allowing the curve of her nails to embed themselves into his mind as well as his skin.

When he found himself fully seated inside of her, he turned his head, kissing the side of her lips, his eyelids, her nose. She pulsated around him. “You feel so tight,” he told her, gradually pulling out, only enough to feel the squeeze of her around him without losing too much of the warmth. He nearly sighed in contentment as he moved back inside.

She was already flush and warm all over from the alcohol in her system, and the feel of him inside of her felt less like an intrusion, as much as it did a missing piece to a lifelong puzzle. His cock was better than his fingers, thicker, longer, going deep as he grinded his hips down into hers. Impatient, she told him, “Faster.”

He huffed out a laugh, but obeyed, drawing up more quickly this time, pressing into her with more intent. She bit back a moan as she felt the plunge of him inside of her. Her knees went higher, something he encouraged by hooking one of them around his arm and thrusting roughly inside of her.

“Fuck, like that,” she moaned, nodding as he went impossibly deep inside of her then. She felt herself grow wetter—could hear it too, the slap of their bodies growing nosier the more intense he grew with his thrusts. It was no longer an issue for him to slide in; her body beckoned him, made all the room so he could seat himself closer and closer to her core.

Chris began to whimper as his thrusts grew more erratic. The pendant on his necklace swung as he watched the way his cock entered her, hitting her in the face as he pushed inside. Her tongue latched onto it, drawing the cool metal into her mouth. When he looked back at her, his eyes were full of unadulterated want. He shuddered, his hands falling over the back of her shoulders, attempting to draw her closer than she already was. She felt the fabric of his undershirt against her sensitive nipples, felt the drag of his pubic bone against her clit as he worked himself inside of her; he was all around her, hot, tangible, lovely, human. Hers.

His fingers wrapped tightly around her shoulders, almost with a bruising intensity, as he began to twitch inside of her. She looked him in the eyes, nodding, urging. He came then, the warmth of his seed inside of her making her gasp, even through the latex of the condom. Her arms wrapped around him, and she panted, smiling.

Pressing a kiss to her breast, he steadied his breathing. She brushed her fingers through his unruly hair, enjoying the faint tickle of his mustache against her skin.

“I’m still gonna make you cum,” he promised, cupping his hand around one of her breasts. They adjusted, so that he tucked himself beside her on the couch, their legs intertwining. His touch was curious more than attentive, the tips of his fingers caressing her warm flesh.

“We’ve got all night.”

“I know,” he smiled, licking behind her ear. Her eyes shut closed, and she pressed away the thoughts that this was not friendly. The alcohol made her feel pleasant, warm, and she did not care.

“Gonna make you cum a lot, my American,” he murmured, biting her earlobe.

She kissed him softly and he returned the kiss in kind, resting a hand on her cheek. He wanted to tell her something terribly romantic, to confess that he liked her quite a lot, that he enjoyed being here more than she would know. But Ireland was such a quiet, fearful place and the IRA had made him wearier than ever; it was best to say nothing than to say too much. It was better to show. His hand drew up between her legs, his eyes glimmering as he pulled away from her.

I want to know all you, said the line he traced up her thigh.

Alright, she consented, parting her legs for him.