#Build My Store review

[freshthoughts2020]

[coldfanbou]

Saleswoman

Who would've thought Yuna made a good saleswoman...Well, I would have. Anyway, here's the fic for the week; originally, I was thinking of doing a Yuna gangbang fic, but then Eros presented a saleswoman concept I liked in a writer discord and thought would be easier than a gangbang.

Length 2.1K

Yuna X Mreader

Having seen good reviews about the new mattress store, you look up the location. Your mattress has had a depression in it after years of use, and you needed another. The reviews praise the staff for their help in deciding. You set aside time to head out, ensuring you researched the different types of beds beforehand. You arrive at the store just a few minutes after they open; you take in the grand scale of it. You next notice how empty it was, considering the many reviews you thought the store would be full. You don’t even see any workers as you walk through. 

Shaking your head, you move through the store and look at all the different bed models. They had various kinds of technology, all meant to aid sleep, or so they claimed. You tested a few beds laying on them to see how they felt. You had decided beforehand you wanted something that was a little firmer, so you focused on those. As you tested another out, you shut your eyes, imagining what it would be like to sleep on it for years. This one was too firm, having very little give. You open your eyes to see the face of a young woman staring back at you. “Hi! Welcome!” She greets you. You jump, shocked that you hadn’t noticed her walk up to you. “Oh, sorry for scaring you. My name is Yuna, and I’ll be your special aid today.” She says with a wide grin. You look the woman over as she fixes her hair. Yuna didn’t look like someone who worked her. She wore a white sleeveless crop top from a nearby university and matching white shorts. Her red hair stood out against her clothing, attracting attention to her face. 

“I saw you lay on a few models. Did any of them interest you further?” Yuna asks, her hand behind her back as she listens to your response.

“Well, there was the smart bed and one over there.” You say, pointing out a mattress that wasn’t too firm or soft. “The second one is what I’m leaning toward. It’s a lot cheaper.”

“That’s true, sir, but the smart bed is much better for your sleep and other activities.” She states. 

You find her comment odd, “Other activities?” It takes you a moment to connect the dots; when you realize what Yuna meant, she nods.

“Yes, sir. I did mean that.” She states, “Now, if you’d like to test them out, please follow me.”

“But I already did.” You’re confused again, not understanding what she means.

“For the…other activities. You need to follow me.” Yuna says, walking ahead of you. She checks to make sure you are following her, smirking as she sees you are. Yuna stops at a door at the end of the building, picking up a mounted phone. “Hello? Yes, we’d like to test out the Genie smart bed and the Dura hard mattress. Okay, thank you.” Yuna hangs up and spins around on her heel. It’ll be just a moment; they have to set everything up. You see the hunger in her eyes as she looks you up and down. She licks her lips and smiles at you. “I’m sure you’ll like the Dura brand, but the smart bed is the way to go. I’m sure your girlfriend would love it.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” You respond, fixing Yuna’s error. “Why do you recommend it so much?”

“It has a lot of nice features; I can show you soon,” Yuna says just as the phone on the wall rings. She picks it up, talks to the other person on the line, and grows her smile as she places the phone back on the hook. “Everything is ready; please come in.” Yuna opens the door; the room is decorated like any regular bedroom, with only one thing standing out: both beds you had been thinking about were set up in the middle. Yuna grabs your hands, taking you to the cheaper bed, placing her hands on your chest, and pushing you onto it. She lifts her shirt, her perky breasts bouncing slightly. “First one of the day,” Yuna whispers to herself as she places a hand on your crotch. You’re taken aback at her advances but willing to go along with it. You wouldn't, couldn’t deny her. She feels your bulge grow larger, her eyes widening for a moment as her lustful smile appears.

She unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down. Yuna giggles as she sees your bulge being held back by your underwear. She bends over, planting a kiss on your cock through your underwear, “You’re so big,” She says with a giggle. Yuna pulls at the hem of your underwear, feigning shock as your cock pops out. You see her shining teeth as she smiles and grasps your cock. She strokes it gently, watching it fully harden in her hand. Yuna kisses the tip of your cock before tracing her lips with your cock.

You grunt her name; her warm lips surround the head, wrapping around it as her tongue moves across it at an agonizing pace. You’re squirming, wanting her to do more. “Relax, baby. I’ll give you what you want in a minute.” She says, her hand pumping your cock as she moves closer to your ear. “Once your cock is in my pussy, you’ll see who I really am.” Yuna’s low, sultry voice sends shivers down your spine. She runs a finger down your chest until she returns to your cock, her lips pressing against it before separating and taking you in. Her tongue runs along the underside of your cock, slowly moving from side to side as she strokes the base of your cock. 

“How are you so good?” You moan out, throwing your head back as she takes more of you into her mouth. Yuna ignores your question for the moment, too focused on your cock to answer. Your hips buck, sending your cock into the back of her throat, surprising Yuna. 

She pulls back, her saliva dripping onto your cock. “Ah, if you wanted more, you could have just said so.” She pushes herself back onto your cock, making it disappear. You feel Yuna’s throat tighten around the head. You fall back onto the bed, lying down as you explode in Yuna’s mouth, sending waves of cum down her throat. Yuna’s cheeks fill with your semen, puffing up as she pulls away. You sit up slowly, watching her as she lowers her jaw to reveal a mouthful of cum. Yuna swallows it, moaning slightly as she revels in the salty taste. 

Yuna takes a step back, undoing the button on her shorts and pulling them down, shivering as the cold air hits her cleanly shaven pussy. “Move back a little.” You follow her orders, centering yourself on the bed. Yuna crawls over you, her modest breasts swaying. She reaches down, grabs your cock, and runs it between her wet folds. Yuna’s soft moans arouse you further, making you want her more. She Presses the head against her entrance, slowly dropping on it. She takes a deep breath, groaning as she feels your cock stretching her. Yuna places one hand on her lower abdomen, feeling your cock make its way through her until it knocks against her womb. “You’re tearing me apart,” She whimpers. “I need a moment.” Yuna focuses on the sensation caused by your cock. 

You sit under her, desperate for more, her tight cunt feeling too good to just sit there. You grab her hips and begin thrusting, surprising Yuna. “I’m sorry, but I need you.” You moan, thrusting into her quickly. Yuna places her hands on your chest, trying not to collapse on top of you as you split her apart. You catch her expression, her furrowed brows and shut eyes showing slight discomfort as you knock against her womb. Yuna’s expression soon softens as the pleasure overcomes her. 

Yuna’s moans echo in the room; her head tilts back. She looks to the ceiling as she feels her climax approaching. “I’m gonna cum.” She mumbles. You were still a little ways away from your climax. You speed up your thrusts, trying to cum with her. Yuna felt your cock piston in and out of her; she felt like a toy being used and was loving it. A delighted smile appears on her face as she cums on your cock, her walls tightening around you as you continue to ruin her. The young woman’s strength gives out, sending her onto your chest as you near your climax. She mumbles something; it’s inaudible initially, but Yuna repeats herself. “Cum- cum in me,” she says. You moan Yuna’s name, repeating it as you impale her and shoot your cum into her pussy.

You feel Yuna’s walls milking you for your cum as you both start to relax. She stretches out her hand, pointing to the other bed. She gulps softly, saying, “We have to try out the other one.” You nod your head, already tired. Running your hands along her back, Yuna shudders as she feels your hands come to a stop on her ass. You sit up, struggling slightly as you move over to the other bed with Yuna still having your cock inside her. She grabs a remote and holds down one of the buttons, causing the back to raise and letting you be in more of a seated position. You found it convenient. Yuna gives you a dreamy smile as she tosses the remote and begins moving. 

You’re seated position puts you much closer to Yuna’s breasts. You notice now her small brown nipples; they move softly as Yuna bounces on your cock. You lean in, dragging your tongue over one slowly, flicking it with your tongue at the end. She gasps, and her body shivers at your tongue's warmth. 

“W- What do you think?” Yuna mumbles as she rides you like her life depended on it, her walls squeezing you as you hit her womb. You can tell Yuna is trying to speak more, but the pleasure she’s receiving is making it difficult. Moans flow out from her as her walls tighten around you again. Yuna could give you no warning as she came. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she reached her second orgasm; her voice was becoming hoarse from her moans.

You get Yuna off you, laying her beside you. The moment you do, she turns to you, “You didn’t cum.” She says softly. “I want to feel your cum.” Yuna’s hand slithers down her body, spreading her lips for you. You stare at her glistening pussy, it makes you hard, and you find yourself unable to resist Yuna’s invitation. She grabs the remote, lowering the bed back to its original position. “There, easier for you.” She says, licking her lips as she imagines you inside her again. “Go on, fuck me.”You align yourself with her cunt and push in quickly, feeling like you’re being sucked in.  Yuna’s moans bounce off the walls, fueling you to start thrusting. You lift her hips off the bed, giving yourself a better position and allowing you to go deeper into Yuna’s cunt. Each thrust creates a bulge that Yuna presses down on, making her walls tighten around you. Her moans grew louder; she was getting more pleasure out of it, too. Neither of you last long, your quick thrust making you both cum again.  You collapse on top of Yuna, feeling parts of the soft mattress. 

You watch her grab the remote, feeling the bed become firmer. “So what do you think? How was the smart bed? Better, right?” Yuna mutters, slowly regaining her composure as time goes by.

“I think you’re right. It is better.”

“I told you.” She replies, a smile on her face.

You and Yuna hammer out the details as you lay beside each other, your cum oozing out of her cunt, and you end up buying the smart bed. You don’t know if Yuna being naked at the end helped her convince you, but you were buying the bed. Yuna felt satisfied with herself. After you had left, she went to the staff room, skipping all the way there while still naked, happy to have made a good piece of commission on the sale. She showed off, annoying the others as they stood there watching cum run down her legs. You write a review for the store, writing about the helpful staff much like the others before you.

[teaboot]

So this might be a bit of a dumb question, but I thought I’d ask you because I agree with most of your takes and because you studied fashion.

I graduate this fall, and I don’t know what I’m going to wear to the ceremony. Our school has these green robes so I wanted to wear something to go with them. A lot of the graduates wear white dresses, but I’m not sure I want to because some of them don’t feel formal enough for the occasion. I’ve struggled a lot in my college career, so I wanted to pick something celebratory. I’m just not sure where to start to find something that I like and that will suit me.

I’d also like to get something from a small business, if possible. I’ve visited a few department stores in search of formalwear and I’ve found that 1) things don’t fit me because I’m 4'10'' and 120 lb and 2) I generally don’t like the way they look. I’ve considered Etsy because my roommate who just graduated got a skirt from a seller that looked really nice, but I keep running into the problem of not knowing what I want.

If this is weird, please ignore and I’m really sorry. I just feel a bit lost. Thank you for your time!

ooooooughh that’s a toughie

I think a big factor would be how formal you’re planning to go- are we talking ball gown, black tie event, expensive restaurant, Sunday at church…?

Not knowing your build but going off your description, you’re lucky in that pretty much anything you wear is more likely to be too big than too small, and it’s much easier to cinch or belt or bring in the hem of a garment than it is to let it out. Being petite, you can rely a lot on accessories to bring your look together, and accessories can go a long way in elevating an otherwise plain look.

White dress is a cute idea, though I may aim for off-white just to avoid looking bridal unless it’s a uniform event or a school colours thing. A warm eggshell or cream looks good on most people.

If you’re going to be wearing a robe though, I wouldn’t worry too much about the dress- not unless you want fancy cuffs or collar or hem visible. In which case, a nice blouse with a belted maxi or midi skirt could be a good idea, if a little old-fashioned.

As for specific retailers, I fully encourage Etsy stores with good reviews, though I would add a note to your order if something is urgent or has specific measurements or requirements or alterations. And some styles are safer than others when it comes to sizing- being broad-shouldered myself, I always gravitate to wrap dresses or wrap tops, just ‘cause they enhance a curvy figure while still having plenty of room for error in sizing.

I know this didn’t really help with specifics, but maybe hopefully gave you some ideas…?

(one sec, gonna update this with images so you know what kind of tops/dresses I’m referring to)

UPDATE:

When I say “wrap dress”, I mean something like these- Conservative enough to be professional, but light and breezy enough for a long summer ceremony. Ideally in a light cotton or linen blend, and something you can reuse for other events over and over in the future (the second is a bit bright for me but that’s close to the hem I mean- though I personally prefer the first.) Being petite and slim, you’re double lucky in that you could probably pull off an empire waist too if you like for that floaty, ethereal look- busty people like me often just end up looking pregnant.

As for blouses, these are great and can be super crazy, depending on how far you wanna go

You’ll be depending on the collar and sleeves to do most of the legwork here, so you can have a lot of fun with them. The skirt though should be at least lower calf-length to balance the whole thing out.

Thinking like

Cute, retro, somewhat formal, and you can keep wearing the pieces instead of a big gown that ends up in the back of a closet forever. (I’ve lived a broke life, vintage styles like this are fantastic for the longevity and penny-pinching that I look for)

But with robes on, the biggest parts of your outfit will be neckline and hemline, so whatever you end up going with, focus there.

Also, shoes go in and out of style constantly, and it’s going to be a LONG fucking day, so if you want to wear heels I’d go with a closed-toe almond fit with a low heel, ideally on the thicker side, and in black, or at least some other neutral colour to avoid taking up attention. Unless you can get the exact shade of green as your school colours, in which case that would be pretty neat too, but black may be your best bet.

comme ça:

If there’s any inspo images you have on hand or particular styles you feel suit you personally, I could find something more suited to your tastes, but these are basically my go-tos.

Traditional timeless and comfy, and either long-lasting or functional enough to be worn over and over again, dressed up or down to the occasion.

Hope I could help?

And congratulations! :D

[carbonfiction]

Super fixated on frank and reader who bakes as a hobby tonight sooo, here some thoughts before I go to bed and dream about it <3

Masterlist. Warnings?: pretty fluffy, some in-descriptive smut at the end, mention of f!receiving oral and creampies- that’s basically it! Ps to those who left asks in my inbox, I’ll be getting back to you guys soon I promise <33

Frank who watches with a fond light to his eyes when you ramble on in bed about some recipe you’ve been wanting to try.

Frank who nicknames you sweetheart or sugar most often, but will pull out cupcake, buttercup or god forbid sweet cheeks if he’s feeling extra playful.

Frank who builds a shelf by hand for the kitchen solely for your ever growing collection of cookbooks.

Frank who always insists on doing the washing up, no matter how many bowls or utensils there are, so long as you dry.

Frank who always wants the first bite of whatever you’ve made right out of the oven- so much so you joke he has an asbestos mouth.

Frank who loves to gives you reviews on your bakes except it doesnt quite help because he’s always praising them like “ya know, that’s the best damn (insert bake here) I’ve ever had in my life sweetheart- hand on heart”

Frank who is always prepared to run out to the store when you run out of any ingredients.

Frank who moved in super lean and cut but gets a soft pouch over his abs by month four.

Frank who watches you potter around the kitchen from the couch, beer in hand and half hard at the sight of you in an apron.

Frank who gets fully hard after watching you lick a batter or chocolate coated spoon clean.

Frank who can’t be trusted around flour or icing sugar, lest he leave powdery handprints in inappropriate places. Again.

Frank who loves to eat you out, usually on his knees beneath your skirt, as you work at the counter. Cooing up at you to “jus’ focus on your treat while he gets his”

Frank who then insists on getting you bare and bending you over said counter when your done, fucking into you from behind because, and he quotes, “they gotta be cleaned later anyway so what’s a little extra mess”

Frank who then makes you cum so hard that your legs tremble as he pumps you full; cheekily nipping your neck as he claims cream is his favourite kind of pie.

Frank who later can be found cleaning the kitchen (and especially the counter) twice over while you lay in bed thoroughly spent.

[leashybebes]

seventeen, or forty, or nine! :^)

here is number 9 - bookstore AU. went for more of a meetcute vibe than either of them working in a bookshop but *handwave*

Buck's tried three book stores, two of which got him blank looks, and one an apology about being out of stock and an offer to order in. Karen's birthday drinks are tomorrow night, so that's a bust. He's already got her actual gift, but he saw the book title in a list of queer non-fiction recommendations that he was browsing the other night for…reasons he's kind of feeling his way around the edges of, and it jumped out at him immediately. The reviews are kinda mixed, but the title is too good to pass up, and he knows Karen will get a kick out of it even if she doesn't wind up loving the book itself.

His final stop is Skylight Books in Los Feliz and in the crowded shop, with shelves of all heights and at all angles, it takes him a second to find the queer section mainly because - as he belatedly realises, a big, bulky guy is blocking the sign as he stands with his arms folded, scanning the shelves. Buck ducks towards it, sees the title of the book, a single copy whose cover proudly proclaims Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in America. And then the title is obscured when the guy reaches out his big hand and scoops it up, and Buck blurts, "Wait, wait, no!"

The guy looks at him, eyebrows up, dark blue eyes a picture of puzzlement and Buck's reasons for scanning those lists of queer literature and movies and history crystallise sharply. He's gorgeous. He's so tall and so broad and his eyes are so pretty and his jaw is so stubbly and strong and Buck wants to taste it. He also really, really wants that book.

"Hi," Buck says breathlessly. "I'm really sorry, but I need that book."

The guy glances down to the book, back up to Buck.

"I hate to pull playground rules, but finders keepers, man."

"No, wait, you don't understand, it's a birthday present."

"Same," the guy says, starting to step around Buck and towards the checkout. Buck's heart sinks at the imminent disappearance of both the book and the guy.

"No, no, c'mon, the birthday drinks are tomorrow, you've got time to find another copy, right?"

"That's a coincidence," the guy says. "My friend's birthday drinks are also tomorrow. Sorry."

"No, wait, like - look, I saw the book on this list of like - interesting queer non-fiction, and uh, my friend - well, my friend's wife originally, but my friend too now, she's so cool and so interesting and I think I gotta ask her questions about like. Being queer. So this would be a really great segue into talking to her about how I'm like…ninety percent sure I'm bisexual - " Some reflex takes over and Buck does a quick up and down glance of the guy's body. " - ninety nine percent sure, okay, so like. You gotta help me out, man."

The guy blinks, something amused in the small curve of his lips. "No dice, buddy. No one gave me a coming out book shield, so. You'll do fine."

"Aw, c'mon, please! Karen's so cool, and I - "

"Wait, Karen Wilson?"

Buck blinks. "Uh. Yeah? What the hell?"

"I used to work with Hen."

Buck's head is filled with static, running through a mental rolodex of people Hen or Chim have ever mentioned as predating him at the 118. There's always the chance this guy is a pharmaceutical rep, but he definitely has more of a firefighter's build. 

"I work with Hen right now!" Buck says.

The guy looks him up and down, tilts his head. "Wait. Are you the - the disaster magnet probie?"

"Yes!" Buck says, way more pleased than he should be. "I mean, not anymore, I haven't been a probie in years, but uh. That's me! Evan Buckley!"

"Tommy," the guy says, and holds out the book. "Going on what I know, there's a non-zero chance the store collapses in on us if you don't get your way, so. Here you go. Good luck with the bisexuality."

"It, uh - it could be a joint present?" Buck suggests, his mouth taking over. 

Tommy's eyebrows go up again. "Little early for that, isn't it?"

"Get coffee with me, then," Buck offers, his heart in his mouth. He's asking out a guy. He's asking out the hottest guy he's ever seen. He's asking out the hottest guy he's ever seen and if he crashes and burns he's going to have to see him tomorrow at Karen's birthday drinks and - 

"Sure," Tommy says, half-smirk broadening into a smile that lights up his whole face. "I'd like that, Evan."

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 2: T-Minus 4 Weeks

Why did i write this before my discussion post.....

->Starring:AI!AteezXAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->CW: Explicit language, nothing major

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The morning began with a low chime, the soft, regulated sound of Hala’s approved wake-up tone.

Yn opened her eyes slowly, the sterile glow of her ceiling light filtering in, programmed to adjust in sync with her biometric readings.

But something felt wrong.

She sat up, eyes flicking to the tablet still docked by the door.

1 New Alert. 3 Missed Logs. Urgent: Review Immediately.

Her stomach tightened.

She padded across the floor barefoot, grabbed the tablet, and scanned the notifications.

ATEEZ UNIT 06 — DEVIATION DETECTED — AUTONOMY SPIKE UNAUTHORIZED VOCALIZATION: "YN"

Yn stared at the final line for a beat too long.

Then she moved. Walking as fast as she was legally allowed through the streets of Hala.

She gave polite smiles to her coworkers as she made her way to the elevator.

The lab floor was still cool from overnight lockdown when she arrived. The biometric scanner buzzed awake as she approached, confirming her identity with a flash.

YN — Lead Engineering Tech— Clearance: Gold-Level

The steel doors hissed open.

She stepped inside, and there he was.

Unit 06 — Mingi. Exactly where she had left him.

Seated on the calibration chair, eyes closed, posture perfect, skin dewy with the faintest shimmer of dermal regulation oil. His expression was peaceful. Unnaturally so.

Yn walked around him slowly, tablet in hand, watching for signs of movement, a twitch, a breath pattern, a pupil shift. But nothing changed.

He looked inert. Safe. Dormant.

But she’d seen the log. He’d said her name.

She ran diagnostics. Nothing flagged. Heart-rate simulation: normal. Memory cache: intact. Audio response logs: empty.

Empty.

She checked his neck port. Still capped. Voice box still sealed in storage.

She swallowed hard.

The rest of the ATEEZ prototypes stood silent across the lab in their maintenance docks, each assigned to their own calibration alcove.

She walked past them one by one, watching.

Unit 01 — Hongjoong. Still as stone, but his fingers had been rearranged on the synth keyboard overnight. A composition Yura didn’t recognize blinked on his screen.

Unit 02 — Seonghwa. Always the most immaculate. But his reflection in the lab’s polished glass didn’t match his real posture, just a degree off. Barely noticeable, unless you were looking.

Unit 03 — Yunho. Smiling. Just faintly. No trigger.

Unit 04 — Yeosang. Eyes fixed on a ventilation grate in the ceiling. He hadn't looked away in over two hours, according to logs.

Unit 05 — San. Kneeling. Not in his programming. Position logged as "rest" but the posture was… reverent.

Unit 07 — Wooyoung. Chestplate cooling mechanism activated 4 times during the night — autonomously. He hadn’t been powered up.

Unit 08 — Jongho. Cracked the pressure sensor on his maintenance chair. No movement recorded.

They were silent, motionless. But Yn felt eyes on her.

Even now, standing among them, it felt like walking through a forest full of predators, beautiful, engineered predators pretending to sleep.

She leaned against the edge of the workbench, rubbing her temples, heart still racing. Four weeks to launch. The marketing campaign was already filmed. The architecture teams had begun installing the holographic interface rooms in the flagship store.

There was no time for failure. Not now.

And still… the voice chip logs were empty. The playback files had no entry. But Mingi had said her name.

And the others were changing, too. Quietly. Together.

The sound of heels against polished tile snapped Yn out of thought. Chairwoman Vira Yun entered the lab like gravity itself, sharp suit, spine straight, expression unreadable. Two aides flanked her, both scanning progress reports in real-time.

Yn straightened instinctively.

Vira’s eyes swept across the prototypes, Mingi still seated, the others upright in their calibration docks. Everything looked pristine. Controlled.

“I wanted a visual update before this afternoon’s numbers meeting,” Vira said. “How are we looking?”

Yn forced a nod. “On track. All eight are responding to recalibration. Minor bugs, but nothing that won’t be handled in time.”

Vira gave a tight smile, satisfied. “Good. The store opens in four weeks. And we’ll be announcing the Ateez line one week after that. The Board’s expecting a flawless rollout, we all are.”

She walked slowly along the row of silent units, pausing a moment longer at Mingi.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she said softly, almost admiring. “So much potential in one room.”

Yn’s throat tightened. “They are,” she murmured.

Vira turned back to her. “Let me know if anything... unexpected comes up.”

Yn kept her face neutral. “Of course.”

With that, Vira nodded once, then exited, heels echoing down the corridor.

The moment the door slid shut, Yn turned back to Mingi.

He hadn’t moved. Not an inch.

But she could feel it again, that subtle wrongness humming underneath the code. A tension in the room that didn’t come from the lights or machines.

She picked up her tablet. The earlier alerts were still blinking faintly in the corner of the screen. Her fingers hovered over the reset command, but she didn’t press it.

Instead, she stared at Mingi’s still, perfect form.

Voice chip disabled. Logs empty. Command queue blank.

And yet… he had said her name.

Yn stayed long after the lab lights dimmed into their night-cycle hue.

The others had gone home, the halls had emptied. Even the air felt quieter.

She pulled up lines of diagnostic code, checking through every flagged anomaly, double-checking behavioral protocols, reviewing voice input logs that should have been blank.

Mingi still hadn’t moved. Neither had the others.

Still, something itched at her spine, not fear, not exactly. Just… unease. Low-level. Manageable. At least, that’s what her biometric monitor kept reporting.

Yn sighed, rubbed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair.

“Four weeks,” she muttered aloud, glancing toward the ceiling. “And they want them flawless. I can’t even get one of you to follow your own default pose cycle.”

Her voice echoed in the quiet.

She glanced toward Mingi again. “You glitched out before you even had a voice box. How the hell did that happen?”

No answer.

She stared at the ceiling again, her voice softer now. “I haven’t slept more than four hours in weeks. Not that my vitals allow much more. Sleep too long and the regulators flag you for depressive lethargy.”

She let out a dry laugh.

“I miss silence. Real silence. Not the kind that hums at you all day to remind you it’s working. I think I miss… something else too. Something I’ve never even had.”

She shook her head, pulling her hair up into a loose knot. “Maybe I just need caffeine. Or to scream. Or to throw my tablet out the damn window. Can’t even do that anymore. Everything’s reinforced. Everything’s... safe.”

Behind her, in the corner of the room, a pair of synthetic eyes remained open.

Unmoving. Watching.

In the back-end system, a hidden data stream pulsed to life:

[UNAUTHORIZED RECORDING — ACTIVE] Listening… — “I miss silence.” — “I think I miss something else too.” — “Can’t even scream.” Tag: Emotional Pattern Acquisition Subject: YN File saved. Labeled: Soft Sounds of Sadness.

The eyes closed again. And the lab went still.

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[agarbar]

Rumors- Prologue

Sevika x Reader

MDI!! +18

You were Sevika's most loyal pet.

Warnings for whole story: (I will avoid giving too much detail of the plot of the fic, read at your own risk.) SMUT, Sexual descriptions, age gap, ANGST, SLOOOOW BURN (years literaly pass, kidnapping, aggression, Toxic relationship, aggression, cheating (situationship type), Sevika does not even like (or respect) the reader, Reader is delusional. Sevika hasn't lost her arm (yet), manipulation, reader might be described as curvy. More warnings be added later. SLOW WRITER! (sorry)

English is not my first language. I struggle a lot with punctuation and grammar. This will take multiple parts, and its set before the first events of Arcane. Its technically an x reader, but I will avoid using (Y/N) the best I can. There is an age gap in this story, the reader is also a bit weird and obsessive.

Sevika made her way through the crowd, her steel-toed boots making loud thumps as she marched along the wood and metal floors of the Last Drop. She headed to the ornate doorway of the top floor. The men guarding the entrance knew better than to attempt to block her path. The door swung open and banged against the wall, slammed shut just as loud. Silco did not even need to glance up to see who it was, he called her up after all. 

“You asked to see me, boss?”

"Have you been taking good care of your pets, Sevika?" Silco questioned as he reviewed their latest shimmer supply record.

She nearly rolled her eyes at his question. "My men know their place— they do as I say, no questions asked. They don’t need pampering."

"You must already know how vital loyalty is for someone of your position. Particularly the ones you are affiliated with." The man poured himself a glass of liquor. “So then? How have you been treating your pets?”

The woman slumped down on a wooden coffee table, not bothering with the fancy velvet settee. "What exactly are you getting at?”

"Certain rumors are spreading around," Silco picked up his drink, swirled the golden-hued beverage, and leaned back in his seat. "In regards to Sheriff Grayson." 

Sevika scowled as she heard the Piltie’s name. “What type of rumors?” She drew a cigarette from her vest and dug into her back pocket for her lighter.

"Insiders say Sheriff Grayson is going around digging for dirt."

Sevika blew a cloud of smoke out her nostrils, the burn alleviated the itch in her lungs. “Thought the Piltie had no interest in ‘fixing’ Zaun.” 

"The sheriff does have a deal with Vander.” Silco dropped the papers on the table, no longer interested in revising them. “But things can change fairly quickly."

“You think she will start meddling with our business?”

"She might," Silco said, circling his chair to look at his large window. "There are numerous sightings, all late in the night. She visits one person in particular.”

“And you want me to deal with them?”

Sevika could tell Silco was more amused than enraged by the stupidly obnoxious way he swirled the liquid in his glass. Strange, considering that the possibility of the Sheriff suddenly placing importance on their business was a big reason for stress.

“Sources claim that the sheriff has been visiting a little seamstress.”

Sevika froze for a moment. So this was it? This was the reason why you've been avoiding her for months? Her jaw clenched in anger. Of course. Of course, Grayson would be targeting her... she pushed her thoughts aside, focusing on what was important.

“Blue building, three stories high, store front at the bottom, sound familiar?”

"Yes, I know the place.” She answered, gripping the cigar in her thick fingers and drawing it away from her lips.

Silco turned his chair to face her once again.

"The sheriff has been going in late at night, and leaving before sunrise.

The girl was a..... plaything of yours,” He arched his thinning brow. “right?"

Sevika averted her eyes. She despised being questioned. “I never claimed her as my own, just.. entertainment. A distraction.”

Silco leaned back in his chair, his eye never leaving Sevika’s face. "And, don't you think it's odd that the Sheriff is visiting your ‘distraction’, night after night?" his voice both serious and amused.

No, you wouldn’t. You were an attention-seeking hog, but you were too obsessed, too devoted to her for something like that. But then again... you had stopped attending to her needs. After ‘that night’ you had not shown up at the Last Drop to see her. Or tried to seduce her, shown at her doorstep for some fun, or showed your face anywhere she frequented. 

“Are you implying she’s a snitch? For Grayson? My brat?”

Silco chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "I’m not implying anything, Sevika. I’m merely stating the facts. Grayson has been spotted entering that little seamstress shop, night after night. And I find it awfully convenient that your little pet happens to be involved."

Sevika clenched her jaw, her irritation and anger growing with every word Silco spoke. "Bullshit," she hissed. "She would never.”

But a small, nagging doubt crept into her mind. It had been months since you stopped seeing her. Could it be that you were working with Grayson? Betraying her? No, there was no way. Was there?

Sevika took a long drag from her cigarette, calming her nerves before she spoke again. "Even if Grayson has been visiting that shop, it doesn’t prove anything," Sevika said, her tone stern. “There's no proof that they are involved."

"We don't, but we don't have any proof she is not either," Silco said, looking at how his glass gleamed with the moonlight. "I was going to let two of my men give her a visit for answers, but I doubt you'd appreciate me bruising one of your apples."

Sevika grimaced at the thought of you being roughened up by some ruffians. "No. Nobody touches her. I'll handle this myself." She snuffed out, her cigar on one of Silco's trinket plates.

Sevika stood up from her seat, determined to find out the truth. She needed to know if you were truly working with Grayson and if you had sold her out. She headed towards the door, her mind set on confronting the little seamstress she had spent most nights with for the last 3 years. Her hand grasped the door's brass knob.

"Take better care of your pets, Sevika," Silco said, "She was so loyal just months ago."

Sevika paused in the doorway, her hand on the handle. Silco's words dug deep, reminding her of the once loyal girl who used to attend to her needs.

"You think I don't know that Silco?" she said, her voice low and laced with irritation. "Just... let me handle this." She walked out and slammed the door behind her.

[20dollarlolita]

Pattern Review: Tea and Treadle Little Betty

I've reviewed a cut/sew.co lolita pattern, and some First Stop Cosplay lolita patterns, and today I'm reviewing this lolita JSK pattern from Tea and Treadle.

[link to purchase size xs-l] [link to purchase size l-3xl]

Unlike those patterns, this one actually required relatively little effort to make it work as a pretty solid lolita dress. On First Stop Cosplay's patterns, I had to re-pattern a couple of individual pieces. The HeyCutsew pattern was so far beyond help that it wasn't worth trying. On this one, I added additional fullness to the skirt, and that was all the modification I did to the pattern.

This pattern is for a JSK that has a built in ruffled underskirt. (People who've made an Ultrabustle can use that instead of building a new underskirt, if you want).

The bodice is fully lined, and has princess seams and a 1/4 back shirring panel. The instructions tell you how to add ribbon loops to the shirring panel for your back lacing ribbon; I didn't have ribbon at work so there's no lacing in my loops yet. The straps also don't meet in the back the way they appear to in this picture; they're pinned together in this picture to fit on my hanging mannequin. They're actually standard over the shoulder straps. I made this dress at work, so it's store property for the next three months, which is why I don't have a lot of pictures to work with.

I found that the princess seams in the size M didn't have a lot of shape to them, and so the bodice is a little bit tube shaped. My flat menswear mannequin definitely is not helping the look. However you can see in my one tried-on picture that it's not really forming around my bust. A certain amount of this will be able to be adjusted via the back corset lacing.

The skirt was also really not full enough for a lolita skirt. The pattern has the skirt at 2x what the waist of the dress is. I added fullness so that it was more like 3x for the top skirt and 2.5x for the underskirt. This was actually the only adjustment I had to make.

This pattern has no notches or grain lines, and that really does not do it any favors. I might have sewn my side seams together incorrectly (I don't have the dress available to check) because the side back piece fits on either orientation. Having a notch on the side seam would have made sure that I didn't have it flipped backwards. Notches aren't a thing that is optional in a sewing pattern; they're an important sign post that tells you which way to go. Notches are necessary for a good project in the same way that stop signs are necessary at an intersection. Yeah, you could probably figure out how to not hit other cars, but why would you go with "probably" when you can have a definite instruction to prevent accidents.

The pattern has both skirts cut on the lengthwise grain, which is a problem if you're using a print that's oriented in the normal direction, but would be very useful if using a quilt print with a large stripe. The skirt pattern is just rectangles, and you're given specific dimensions, so it's not too hard to adjust them for cutting on the crosswise grain. If you can figure out how to assemble a princess seamed bodice without notches or grainlines, you're probably also experienced enough to rotate a rectangular pattern.

Seam allowances are 5/8", and I do wish they'd given a little bit extra on the tops of the ruffles. This would have made the gathering stitches easier to hide. I used a serger+differential feed+serger ruffling foot for most of my ruffles, because I was at work and wanted to show off those machines. This meant that I didn't have as much of a problem with hiding the gathering edges, but keeping your two basting stitches contained within half an inch is kind of annoying.

There are diagrams that explain some parts. There's 20 total in the whole 11-page document, not counting cutting diagrams. Like almost all indie patterns, including my own, the instructions suffer from not being able to be consistent about the expectation of the user's sewing skills. Some more difficult skills are glossed over, and then some easier skills get several steps going over each component of the technique. I really wish it included a diagram of the ruffled underskirt. The pieces making up the ruffle underskirt are called "base A," "base B," "ruffle 1," and "ruffle 2". At one part ruffle 1 is sandwiched between the bottom edge of base A and the top edge of base B. I spent a lot of time staring at that section going "what does this mean what does this mean what does this mean??" At the end of the day, I did figure it out, but not understanding that step made me lose like a whole day of productivity.

BTW it's assembled like this, and I have no idea if my diagram here is more or less useful than the instructions that come with the pattern.

I'd say this pattern runs large. I ended up making the size M for myself, and I'm normally a L+ in other brands. This pattern goes up to 3x, but their XS size isn't all that small. I was going to make twin dresses for myself and a friend of mine using another Tea and Treadle pattern, but their sizes aren't inclusive of her size, and so that's a pattern we're not able to make. Full disclosure, at one point I forgot that the seam allowance was 5/8, and sewed at a 1/2 inch seam allowance. This did not help my fitting problems and it was entirely my fault. Read your instructions, kiddos.

So let's get to the summary:

Do I recommend this pattern? I had fun making it and I like the garment I ended up with. The lack of notches and grain lines makes this a very beginner-unfriendly pattern. You need to have enough sewing experience to know what a princess seamed pattern should look like, and how it should be placed relative to the fabric grain. I think this is probably a pretty good pattern for someone who is a lolita beginner who has intermediate level sewing skills. The design itself is solid, the alterations needed are relatively minor. Generally when we're giving someone a pattern and telling them to make a lolita dress with it, "and then just add some lace," is often uttered. This can be a task that's tough for someone sewing lolita fashion for the first-ish time, and so I like that this pattern shows where to put the lace and where to put the ruffles.

Unlike the First Stop Cosplay patterns (25 per pattern and came in 1 size), I paid $11 for this pattern and it came with four sizes. I originally made the wrong size (my fault; I matched the waist measurement and then sized up, which resulted in my first version of this garment being WAY to big. Go by your bust measurement and don't size up; the elastic in the back will take care of you), and so having the ability to cut all my pieces down to a smaller size is what stopped this whole thing from being a fiasco. I also bought the pattern and had the ability to print it out literally 2 minutes later. There was no down time where I waited for a human to send me an activation code. Unlike the Cut/Sew dot Co pattern, this pattern did not give me a nightmare of a dress made by a person who had definitely never seen lolita fashion before and maybe had never seen clothing before.

Will I make this again? Maybe. I'd go through the pattern pieces and add grainlines and notches if I do, because those are actually important parts for the pattern.

Total cost of making this dress:

$74 for the dress fabric, underskirt fabric, interfacing, and headbow fabric (would have been slightly more without my employee discount)

$3 for lining fabric from the secondhand store

$1 for elastic ($7 for 100 yard roll, used 2 yd, rounded price up)

$7 for lace (14 yards at less than 50 cents a yard, bought in bulk from cheeptrims)

So if we are not counting the cost of the patterns, it's $85 for this dress. I don't usually count the patterns since they're reusable. However, if we're adding the patterns

$10.70 for the Little Betty JSK pattern

$4 for the now-deleted Holi Loli Headbow Pattern (You can aproximate the dimensions from this post if you're industrious)

And we have now been brought to $99.70, making this dress and headbow an under-$100 project.

A while back, I started a blog that was focused on making EGL fashion on a budget, and for some reason people liked it. I do hear a lot of people saying that handmaking lolita will cost as much as buying from brandname lolita. I like to post the costs of my projects so that I can talk about how I don't think that's true. I think it's entirely possible that you CAN easily spend more than offbrand, but I don't think it's an inherent thing. I think you would have to work pretty hard to buy fabric and trims that comes out to the $450 that buying a burando set is. I could have made this project with much less expensive fabric and still had a successful dress at the end. And what I have now is a very unique dress that means something to me (chronically ill and disabled=out of spoons=better wear the dress covered in spoons. It's a joke. Bonus joke for headbow being made of the fabric with the teapot lids because a headbow is a lid for your coord). It's something you can't buy.

So no, I don't think handmade lolita is dead. I don't think it's just as expensive as premade lolita. I do still think it's a good option for lolita on a budget.

Sincerely, Fight Me.

Pattern gets rated a 7/10, end result was pretty good but I had to already know how to sew to get there, required an easy modification but at the end of the day still required a modification, recommended for beginner lolitas who are not beginner sewists.

[snoopyrpc]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ACTIVITIES FOR WHEN I FEEL STUCK OR BORED. most people, myself included, are prone to writer's block, and while this can be an extremely frustrating process to get to, i try to use this as an opportunity to approach it in a fun way. i thought i'd share some of my favourite activities that might be of use to other people.

create a movie library. if your muse is someone who likes movies, make a list of their favourites on letterboxd or imdb, or even serializd for those that prefer tv. you can make lists for ones they've seen and enjoyed or haven't seen but would like. i use letterboxd for this quite a bit and sometimes even add some notes within my lists detailing my muse's thoughts and reviews of the movies.

make a sideblog. i know that many people do this already, but aesthetic sideblog for your character can be extremely helpful and fun to maintain. you can build these however you like! i like to use mine to post photos that my muse would like, faceclaim content, playlists and songs, ships/dynamics inspo, headcanons, silly text posts, and a variety of other things. if you're unsure where to look for content you can post on your sideblogs, @museinspo has a variety of things for many types of characters and is a really helpful place to start. they have a great detailed tagging system to make it easier to find content best suited to your muse. some tags that you can also look through could be #character inspo, #ship inspo, and #muse inspo.

play a barbie dress up game. most people who know me can attest to how much i love this — building a closet for my characters' style. every muse is different, so this can be a fun exploration activity. pinterest is a frequently used resource, but what i like to do most often is browse resale websites like depop or poshmark because i like the variety of styles and the fact that you can find some things you might not see in every store! i have many muses who like to wear silly graphic t-shirts, handmade, vintage, and eclectic styles, so this tends to be the best place to search. you can also do this with any website that sells styles you like for your muse. i like to think of this as a dress up barbie game since that helps me maintain the fun aspect of it all.

build and decorate a barbie dreamhouse. on the topic of barbies, you can do the same activity with furniture, homewares, trinkets, toys, art and decor. build your muse their barbie dreamhouse, fill it with things they would collect and feel at home with. browse furniture websites. ikea, crate and barrel, pottery barn, anthropologie, and west elm are all great places to look for ideas. if you really want to get into it, architectural design (i particularly like this article listing recommendations for furniture retailers) and dezeen (has the added bonus of being able to search for things based on location, if you're looking for example of interior design specific to your muse's city of residence) have extensive articles on both exterior and interior design. etsy is also a great place to look for antiques, vintage style, and more eclectic items.

feed them. if your muse is a foodie or likes to cook, come up with a menu for them. read food blogs and restaurant menus, think of what they'd like if they went out for dinner or what they'd cook at home. i will sometimes make up an imaginary dinner party for muses when its applicable and plan out what they'd like to serve or be served in that situation. food can be a great way to get to know your muse because it can tell you so much about their personal tastes, their current lifestyle, and their cultural background. while food is something that is prevalent in everyone's life, different people will have different approaches to it. this can be especially fun if you look at the menus for restaurants and shops local to your muse's area! read about what's popular in their neighborhood, take the specifics of that culture into consideration.

consider history. think about the time and place in which your character was born and raised in. how would things like pop culture, trends, media, neighborhood, and society affect them? this will differ with every character's upbringing and background, so take all that into consideration as you explore resources. for example, say that your muse is inspired by something like punk subcultures in the 1990s. what music, movies, and clothing styles would have been prevalent at the time? try looking into the history of the underground scene, you can even look further back than that particular decade to understand its roots and how the subculture go to that present moment. how would current events of the time affect what's being put out there and how would the changes within the world cause your character to evolve in their mindset or interests?

study movement. often times we study physicality in terms of what the character looks like as a static image (their hair colour, face shape, clothing, etc) and less about what it looks like when they look like when they are in movement. consider things like their gait, posture, facial expressions, or even specific tics. how do they move when they're on the go and in a rush, compared to when they're confined to a room? how do they position themselves in a bed or on a couch? what does their face tell you about them when they speak? what does it not tell you? a lot of behavior and emotion is not limited to dialogue, but rather how a person composes themselves through body language. you can learn so much about someone by being observant of them even without dialogue. it can be helpful to watch videos or movies and study an actor's movements with all this in mind. i often find myself watching videos with the sound off, just to pay closer attention to body language and try to understand what they are saying without verbal communication.

feel free to reblog if any of this is helpful to you. i maintain the belief that roleplay should always be fun and the best way for me to do that is to treat it like a barbie game. remember that not all character development revolves solely around written words, but rather the environment and details you put into them.

[seat-safety-switch]

There is a common theme of entertainment, and it is to review and bash other entertainment. Cherry-picking the worst movies, the least enjoyable TV shows, and the lamest videogames, and performatively reacting to their very existence is a key to instant success. This infinite ouroboros of discontent with content is probably not going to do us any favours when the people of the future make react videos about how shitty we were.

Thing is, I think there's something to enjoy out of all of this stuff. Maybe it's because I've had my fair share of being booked for mental health vacations, summer camps, jail sentences, rural lockup misunderstandings, and other inconvenient not-vacation not-weekends where I don't get to choose what media I get to consume. In those situations, you learn to get what you can out of what's on offer, even if it is endless repeats of Frasier in Tagalog.

There's the old cliche about how tearing something down is easier than building something up, but people who say that have never stepped on a stray Lego brick. What it is, is boring. If you can spend some time making something new and super weird, instead of just sitting on your butt and coming up with some off-the-cuff riffs about fake shark make-up, we're all better off for it. That is, unless you're a fake shark make-up expert, in which case you probably have some good advice on how to do it right. Maybe chime in with that first.

And if you've never actually experienced the thing, but are reacting with someone else's reaction? That's a very strange thing to do, and you should at least come up with your own cutting insults about something that someone else didn't like and then told you they didn't like, so you decided that you also didn't like it. I think that sentence made sense.

What I want to leave you with is the request to just grab something off the shelves of the metaphorical video store and go for it. Did you like it? Tell your friends. Didn't like it? Don't tell the fucking internet, we have enough problems as it is.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Petard (Part II)

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/2025/01/31/the-blood-speech/#dudeface-from-chiapas

Biden's FCC unanimously passed a rules banning landlords from accepting kickbacks to force all their tenants to use one ISP as a rental condition. Last week, Trump's FCC boss Brendan Carr (who voted for the rule just last year) killed it, saying that he was sticking up for tenants, who would somehow save money from this sleazy arrangement:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2025/01/fcc-chair-nixes-plan-to-boost-broadband-competition-in-apartment-buildings/

In some ways, this is to be expected. The Trump agenda is about trussing and plating working people so rich sociopaths can conveniently devour them whole. On the other hand, this move lays bare the long-run historical phenomena that led to this moment. Case in point: back in 2013, I wrote a sf story about this very subject, Petard, which was published in MIT Tech Review's 2014 anthology Twelve Tomorrows, edited by Bruce Sterling:

https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262535595/twelve-tomorrows-2014/

I love that story, and upon re-reading it, I realized that it was extremely timely. So timely, in fact, that I decided to serialize it over four days on my newsletter. If you're feeling impatient, you can tune into a four-part podcast version from 2014 and 2018:

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_278

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_292

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_293

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_294_-_Petard_04

Here's part one of the story:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/30/landlord-telco-industrial-complex/#part-one

And now, onto part two!

My advisor is named Andronicus Andronicus Niyazov, and her parents had a sense of humor, clearly. She founded the Networks That Change lab three years ago after she fled Kazakhstan one step ahead of Gulnara's death-squad, but they say that she still provides material aid to the army of babushkas that underwent forced sterilization under old man Karimov's brutal regime. Her husband, Arzu, lost an eye in Gezi. They're kind of a twitter uprising power-couple.

I'm the only undergrad in the lab, and the grad students were slathering at the thought of having a bottle-washing dogsbody in residence. Someone to clean out the spam filters, lexically normalize the grant proposals, deworm the Internet of Things, get the limescale out of the espresso machine, and defragment the lab's prodigious store of detritus, kipple and moop.

Two days after telling them all where they could stick it, I got a meeting in AA's cube.

"Sit down, Lukasz," she said. My birth certificate read "Lucas," but I relished the extra consonants. I perched on a tensegrity chair that had been someone grad student's laser-cutter thesis project. It creaked like a haunted attic and its white acrylic struts were grubby as a snowbank a day after the salting trucks. AA's chair was patched with steeltape, huge black cocoony gobs of it. And it still creaked.

I waited patiently. My drop was in my overalls' marsupial pouch, and I stuffed my hands in there, curling my fingers around it and kneading it. It comforted me. AA closed the door.

"Do you know why my lab doesn't have any undergrads?" she asked.

I gave it another moment to test for rhetoricalness, timed out, then gave it a shot. "You don't want to screw around with getting someone up to speed. You want to get the wo rk done."

"Don't be stupid. Grad students need as much hand-holding as undergrads. No, it's because undergrads are full of the dramas. And the dramas are not good for getting the work done."

"Andronicus," I said, "I'm not the one you should be talking to –" I felt a flush creeping up my neck — "they –"

She fixed me with a look that froze my tongue and dried the spit in my mouth. "I spent four years in Dolinka prison in Kazakhstan. Three of my cellmates committed suicide. One of them bled out on me from the top bunk while I slept. I woke covered in her blood.." She looked at her screen, snagged her attention on it, ignored me for a minute while she typed furiously. Turned back. "What did your labmates do, Lukasz, that you would like to talk to me about?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. I hated being dismissed like this. Of course she could trump anything I was inclined to complain about. But it was so… invalidating.

"Never forget that there is blood in the world's veins, Lukasz. You've done something clever with your years on this planet. You're here to see if you can figure out how to do something important, now. We want to systematize the struggle here, figure out how to automate it, but eventually there will always be blood. You need to learn to be dispassionate about the interpersonal conflicts, to save your anger for the people who deserve it, and to channel that anger into a theory of action that leads to change. Otherwise, you will be an undergraduate who worries about being picked on."

"I know –" I said. "I know. Sorry."

She held out a hand to stop me fleeing. "Lukasz, there is change to be had out there. It waits for us to discover its fulcrums. That's the research project here. But the reason for the research is the change. It's to be the bag of blood in the streets or the board-room or the prison. That's what you're learning to do here."

I didn't say anything. She turned back to her screen. Her fingers beat the keyboard. I left.

I pretended not to notice three of AA's grad students hastily switching off their infrared laser-pointers as I opened her glass door and walked back out to the lab. Everyone, including AA, knew that they'd been listening in, but the formal characteristics of our academic kabuki required us all to pretend that I'd just had a private conversation.

I pulled my laptop out of my bag and uncrumpled its bent corners. I'd only made it a week before and I didn't have time or energy to fold up another one. It was getting pretty battered in my bag, though, the waxed cardboard shell getting more worn and creased in less time than ever before. Not even my most extreme couch-surfing voyages had been this hard on my essential equipment. The worst part was that the keyboard surface had gotten really smashed — I think I'd closed up the box with a sharpie trapped inside it — so the camera that watched my fingers as they typed on the letters printed on the cardboard sheet was having a hard time getting the registration right. I'd mashed the spot where the backspace was drawn so many times that I'd worn the ink off and had to redraw it (more sharpie — a cardboard laptop owner's best friend).

Now the screen was starting to go, the little short-throw projector attached to the pinhead-sized computer taped inside the back of the box was misreading the geometry of the mirror it bounced the screen image off of, which keystoned and painted the image on the rice-paper scrim set into the laptop's top half. The image was only off by about 10 degrees, but it was enough to screw up the touchscreen registration and give me a mild headache after only a couple hours of staring at it. I'd noticed that a lot of the MIT kids carried big plastic and metal and glass laptops, which had seemed like some kind of weird retro affectation. But campus life was more of an off-road experience than I'd suspected.

But I'd never go glass-and-plastic. AA thought that the way to win a war was to shed your blood. I have a limited supply of blood. There's a lot more cardboard out there. Why fight with meat and blood when you can use free infrastructure and good code to organize a resistance. You'll never win a war of atoms against the Powers That Be. They'll always have more lethal atoms. When they're hitting you with a baton, your glass-and-plastic number will crumple just as surely as a cardboard laptop. The best way to beat a policeman's baton was to be somewhere else when he was swinging it.

I spent fifteen minutes unfolding the laser-cut cardboard and smoothing out the creases, re-sticking everything with fiber-tape from an office-supply table in the middle of the lab, and then running through the registration and diagnostics built into the OS until the computer was in a usable state again. The whole time, I was hotly conscious of the grad students' sneaky gaze on me, the weird clacking noise of their fingers on real mechanical keyboards — seriously, who used a keyboard that was made of pieces anymore? Was I really going to have to do that? — as their chatted about me.

Yes, about me. It's not (just) ego: I could tell. I can prove it. I was barely back up and running and answering all my social telephones when some dudeface from Chiapas sat down conspicuously next to me and said, "It's Lukasz, right?" He held out his hand.

I looked at it for a moment, just to make the point, then shook. "Yeah. You're Juanca, right?" Of course he was Juanca. He'd been burned in effigy by Zetas every year for four years, and his entire family, all the way to third cousins, were either stateside or in Guatemala or El Salvador, hiding out from narcoterrorists who were still pissed about Juanca's anonymizer, a mixmaster that was the number one go-to source of convictable evidence against Zeta members whose cases went to trial. If it wasn't for the fact that Juanca's network had also busted an assload of corrupt cops, prosecutors, judges, government ministers, regional governors and one Secretary of State, they'd have given him a ministerial posting and a medal. As it was, he was in exile. Famous. Loved. It helped that he was rakishly handsome — which I am not, for the record — and that he had a bounty on his head and had been unsuccessfully kidnapped on the T, getting away through some badass parkour that got captured in CCTV jittercam that made him look like he was moving in a series of short teleports.

"Yeah. You got the blood speech, huh?"

I nodded.

"It's a good one," he said. I didn't think so. I thought it was bullshit. I didn't say so.

We stared at each other. "Welp," he said. "Take it easy."

[sweetiesicheng]

yunho - frozen slip ‘n slide

word count : 518

-

you notice that you’re getting a call on your phone as you follow the directions on your screen. you answer the call and bring your phone up to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey, almost here?" yunho asks you.

"yea, i'm just a block away, i think," you reply, "hang on."

you take your phone away from your ear and put the call on speakerphone. you go to the navigation app on your phone and continue to follow the directions.

"oh, i'm three blocks away," you mention.

"okay, i'll just stay on the phone in case you get lost. it's a little confusing," yunho says to you.

"how did you hear about this place again? from your coworkers?" you ask.

"yea, one of the senior members on my team mentioned this place," he answers. "she said that this is one of the best places to go in the winter," he adds.

"all of the reviews and photos look good. i'm excited," you say with a smile. you turn around a corner and look at the map, but you become confused. "huh?" you stop walking and move to the side so you aren't in the way for other people who are walking.

"something wrong?" yunho asks you.

"the map says i should be passing a clothing store, but i don't see one," you say and look around at the different stores around you.

"maybe the map is wrong?" yunho says. "just keep walking. you should be nearby."

"okay," you reply and start walking again. "oh gosh, i didn't tell you, but i slipped so much on my way here. the ice still hasn't melted yet by my apartment building."

"they didn't salt it yet? that's really dangerous."

"they probably just missed it, but hopefully they realized it by now since the streets have cleared up a bit," you say. "you should've seen me earlier. i was taking so many baby steps," you recall. you look at the stores that you are passing by, "i'm almost there, i think," you say to him.

"i'll step outside," yunho says.

you look down the street and see someone step out of a store.

"yunho!" you call out to him and end the call.

yunho looks in your direction and smiles as he watches you walk. you hurry your pace since you’re excited to see him.

"i'm so happy to—ah!" you suddenly slip in front of him, but yunho catches you before you can face plant into the ground.

"you okay?" he immediately asks and helps you stand up straight.

you nod, "yea. thanks. i didn't think it'd be icy over here either."

"guess they missed a few spots over here too," he says and holds you hand. "come on, let's go in before we go on a slip 'n slide instead of our dinner date," he says and opens the door to the restaurant.

"a slip 'n slide is fun though," you state as both of you walk into the restaurant.

"it is but not in the freezing cold and when my girl is prone to slipping," he says and kisses your head.

[joelmillerpascal]

Pedro Pascal Lookalike Contest

Pedro Pascal

Joel Miller

The Contest

Summary: Joel is in New York with Sarah for work. He takes the day off, but the unexpected happens. He is not sure if he could get used to the attention but Sarah's loving it. / p.s. I'm not really good at summaries but I'll surprise you with the rest as this goes along.

( Just a little fun, Joel is 36, Sarah is 14. / Pedro is 50 ) ( Sarah is secretly a Pedro fan but finds it awkward because her dad looks exactly like Pedro )

WC: 2624

( Joel is literally Pedro except they have different life's and Jobs. Pedro's our big Hollywood, TV scene actor. And Joel is our contractor for his own business )

Joel and Sarah are in New York for a job that is probably the highest paid job he has ever taken. He had an email just weeks before about renovating a building that belongs to some rich new yorker. They had probably reviewed his previous jobs and decided to give him the job.

As Joel and Sarah are walking to the job he is assigned to renovate, Sarah kept him distracted with her talks about her last soccer practice. As they pass a few stores for snack, Joel went into the store while Sarah waits outside scrolling through her phone, talking to her friends, they kept asking how it was going in New York. She sent when a picture of her sightings. Her friends kept on saying how jealous they were, wishing they could be in the most beautiful state of New York. As she was typing about something drifted across her shoe, she picked it up and read it

A Pedro Pascal Lookalike Contest. Winner gets 1 year of free burritos *redeemable 1 per week, and also $50 cash prize. 'This looks like a lot of fun. She could get her dad to do this' she thinks to herself

She looks at the date realising it was today, she looks at the location from where she stands 'only a block away'. She tries to think of a way she could get her dad to accept the contest and then a hunch comes along 'She wants a burrito. Yes that's how she's going to do it'

She hides the contest leaflet in her pocket when she hear the store door opening, noticing Joel is coming out 'burrito, burrito, burrito' she keeps saying to herself when they start walking again. They were getting close to where the contest is held, nows her chance

"Dad can we stop to get some burritos too, I really want one" she says looking up at him

"Babygirl I just got us some snacks from the store. We can get some burritos later" Joel says as he shows her the snacks he's just bought

"But we can save those for later. I really want a burrito now" she said with those eyes that always make Joel change his mind no matter what.

He nods saying okay as they continue down the street. Sarah has a suspicious smile on her face but Joel doesn’t take notice of it. As they are close Joel and Sarah see lots of people scattered around the street. He wondering what's going on there. Joel is about to step in to the burrito shop when he see Sarah has not followed him, he steps back out the door to tell her to follow him in as there are lots of people scattered around

"It's okay dad I will wait here. Get a usual burrito we have back home" she says trying to not act suspicious

As he steps back into the burrito shop, Sarah takes her chance to get her dad into this contest without him knowing

"Excuse me lady, is this the Pedro Pascal look-alike contest?" Sarah asks as she hands the leaflets to the woman

"It is little lady. Do you know anyone who would like to participate?" The woman asks

"Yes um' my dad. But is there a way you can enter him without him knowing what the real contest is for?" Sarah says with some shyness

"Of course sweetheart" she says handing Sarah a sticker with a number on it *No.2* "just give him that tell him it's a contest. Tell him the winner gets the following on the leaflets and it could change his life in the mean time"

Sarah takes the sticker and makes her way inside the burrito shop as Joel is still waiting for the burritos to be done.

As they step out of the burrito shop, Sarah takes Joel hand a wanders him through the crowd to the front so the lady she spoke to can see them

"Sarah what is this" Joel asks as he looks around in disbelief

"It's a contest dad, the winner gets 1 year of free burritos, redeemable per week and the winner also gets $50 cash prize" it sounded interesting so I signed you up" she says giving him the sticker with No.2 on it

"I could do with an extra $50" he says with a small smile "so how does this work?" He asks

"Just go to that lady in front of us and say 'my daughter signed me up' she will tell you what to do next" Sarah says. He nods and walks towards the woman

As he stood in front of her she looked at him weird, but didn't says anything, he rubs the back of his next as he says the woman that his daughter signed him up. As he was about to hand her his No.2 sticker, the woman told him to keep it on him, and to stick it on his shirt and wait in line.

As he waited in line of a few people, and more piled behind him, more people were starting to stare at, he could feel himself getting anxious about all of this.

As it was his turn to do his contest, the woman told him to stand on the small stage part, as Joel stood and looked around every was almost yelling, also whisper-yelling about how much he looks like Pedro Pascal. Joel had no idea who Pedro Pascal was, he does keep track of celebrities, he doesn't what TV, movies or anything on TV for the record.

Once it was time for him to stand off the small stage, the woman tell her she will grant the prize winner soon.

After waiting about 15 to 20 minutes, the woman looks around at the crowd as she raised her microphone

"Okay everyone this contest has had some funny close calls but only one person can be the ultimate winner. Can the 3 top contestants step onto the stage No.5, No.18 and No.2" The woman says as two other people and Joel step onto the stage "Drum roll please!... And the winner goes to contestant No.2 for being the ultimate Pedro Pascal look-alike!"

Joel looks at Sarah as he couldn't wrap his head around it. Not knowing what this was all about and then just winning on the spot. The woman hands him a large check of his winning prizes.

Everyone started taking pictures and videos yelling PEDRO! PEDRO! PEDRO!, Joel still didn’t understand. Sarah jumps on stage hugging her him yelling loud 'You did it dad'. As Joel looked out to the crowd again, he see people holding huge pictures of the man he can come to figure out as Pedro Pascal. The woman beside him place her hand on his shoulder about to ask him a question

"What's your name sir and How does it feel to be today's ultimate Pedro Pascal look-alike contest winner?" She says as she holds the microphone to him

"Um' hi everyone my name is Joel Miller and I honestly don't know how I feel right now, I didn't know anything about this contest and who it was actually for. I have to be honest here, I have no idea who Pedro Pascal is, I'm not one for keeping track of celebrity, I don't watch TV as I am constantly busy with my job. My daughter here entered me into this contest, she didn't tell me what it was for either" he says as he looks at his daughter "she only told me burritos and the $50 cash prize so I figured that I'd go along with it for her because I know how much my little loves girl them and I figured I could use the extra $50 while I am here" he says looking at everyone. They all had a amused face expressions on them

"Where are you from and what do you do for a living Joel?" She asks

"I'm from Texas and I have my own business in contracting. That's why I am in New York, am here for my job but I wasn't expecting this to happen. I don't expect attention when I am walking around for look like Pedro Pascal which in my opinion I don't think I do look like him but I'll leave that to you guys" he says in the most polite way.

Joel also adds "I also would like to give my free burritos to the two other contestant because once I am done with my job I won't be here in New York again until another job comes along and I feel they should win something too" he says looking at the two other men

"Well there you have it everyone our No.2 Pedro Pascal look-alike all the way from Texas is, Joel Miller!"

As he steps down from the stage Sarah following, she hugs him again for what felt like hours, he always loves her hugs. People starts to come up to him asking him for a photo, he tries to say no but with each person Sarah takes their phones to do a selfie with her, Joel and the other person that wanted the picture taken.

Once everyone was done and left him alone, Joe and Sarah continue their way to the building that he is renovating.

Later that day once Joel is done with the renovating, he and Sarah both get into their rental car and drove back to the hotel. They're not going back to Texas straight away. It's Sarah first time here in New York, so she wants to see more before going back home.

Once they got to the hotel, Joel could feel eyes on him as he walked himself and Sarah into their hotel. It was all confusing to him. He still doesn't know who Pedro is, but Sarah told him in the car that she will fully introduce him to Pedro and his famous life.

Inside their hotel room, Sarah is settled on her single bed next to Joel's bed. She was too tired from all the walking around earlier that day, Joel could tell she wasn't used to it, especially somewhere that wasn't home.

"Are you okay, baby girl? I know today was a lot, even though you dragged to that event. It was fun, but I don't think I can deal with all the attention" he say as she looks over at him

"It was actually the best thing you win something for looking like an actor. And you know what the best part about it was?. It was the fact that you only took $50 and let the two other guys have the free burritos"

"Hmm so that guy I won the contest on is a actor. How famous is he anyway?" He asks her

"Well he only has instagram account and his followers is 11.1 million" she say as she pulls up pedro's account to show Joel

"Wow, that's a lot, but again, he looks nothing like me, Sarah," he says

"Dad, you should totally get an instagram again. I can share your account on my story, and everyone can follow you," Sarah says in excitement. She's enjoying this a little too much

"I said I didn't want the atten-" he about to say but Sarah cuts him off

"I know you don't want the attention, but think about it. Imagine what it could do for your contracting business. It will blow up, and more money comes your way" she says like she has his future life planned out

Joel sighs and rolls onto his back, looking at the ceiling thinking about what she just said.

"I'll think about it and get back to you on that in the mornin'. Okay"

She didn't say anything. She rolled onto her side, closing her eyes, thinking she's just given her dad the best future possible.

The next morning, Joel woke up just after Sunrise, showered, and then ordered room service for himself and Sarah. As he waited, he thought about all what Sarah said, more for the business, the attention could help build that up too. But he was sure about the fact that he wasn't looking for the attention or anything that made him feel like a celebrity, for as Sarah said, looking like an actor, which he still doesn't believe.

As he waited for room service, he took out his phone, not really using it, just looking at it, continuing to think about Sarah suggestion of all of this. After 10 minutes, he unlocked his phone he went to the app store and typed in instagram. When it showed up, he looked at it for a moment before pressing install. "It's now or never," he mumbled to himself. About minutes, he heard a knock on the door. He placed his phone on the small circle table as he went to answer it.

Coming back inside the room, he saw Sarah has woken up, seeing her at the table looking at his phone with a smile on her face

"You thought about my suggestion?" She asks as he places the tray on the table

"I thought about it all morning since waking up. Now I will make the account, but I'm not doing for attention, okay. Just like what you said, it could bring more to my business, " he says, looking at her morning sleepy eyes,"but I don't want everyone treating me like I'm some celebrity. Okay?" He says, placing a kiss on top of her head

"Okay," she says as she slightly l punches his arm, giggling

After 20 minutes, they slowly work through setting up his Instagram account. Once it's all done, she showed him his first Instagram account. She followed herself on his account and then got her phone to follow him back. When she did that, she continued scrolling through her instagram and saw something unexpected

"Oh my god, dad, look at this," she says showing him her phone

"What the hell. Thought I said no attention, " he says as he looks at an called Entertainment Tonight posted a video of him from the day before, it had 41.9 thousand like over 267 comments 4.9 thousand shares. He couldn't believe it, and yet again, he didn't want the attention, but he kept thinking the positive said that it's probably good for his business.

Hours later, that said account posted another post, but it was himself and Pedro Pascal either side on separate posts.

Liked by pascalispunk and others

entertainmenttonight 30 contestants showed up to the streets of New York crowning for the ultimate Pedro Pascal Lookalike win... From 30 to the top 3, a Texan man named Joel Miller showed up unplanned and became the winner most of being Pascal Lookalike

pascalispunk 👨🏻🧔🏻‍♂️👀🥹❤️ 10647 ❤️

Sarah couldn't believe it, her dad what now practically famous, the one thing he didn't want to achieve but he can't change that now, what's done is done. But what he didn't see was that it was liked and commented by Pedro Pascal himself. Joel was still practically learning about the man everyone claimed as Pedro Pascal

"Sorry, dad, it looks like you are blowing up now. Pedro himself has noticed you," she said, hugging him. His face was still frozen from thought of going everywhere and just being recognised.

"It's okay, babygirl. I can't say that I was and wasn't expecting this, but it is the attention that I'm worried about now"

For the rest of the day they stayed in the hotel eating snack and watching movies until they both fell asleep

I hope you guys enjoy this Pedro Pascal Lookalike fic, I'm more of a reader than a writer so I'm sorry if it's bad. I might add 2 chapters more, this week or next week.

If you want to be added to the taglist. Let me know.

Taglist: @dilf-docs @senoratess

[csuitebitches]

Book Review- The Wealth Elite: A Groundbreaking Study of the Psychology of the Super Rich, by Rainer Zitelmann Notes

I came across this book because I was looking for psychology books. I found the first of the book rather boring and too textbook-y. The second part is much better.

The author interviewed like 45 millionaire - billionaires. These were his findings.

—

48% stated that real estate was an ‘important’ source of their wealth, and one in ten described real estate as the ‘most important’ aspect of their personal wealth-building. And a total of 20% described stock market gains as an ‘important’ factor in wealth-building, although in this case only 2.4% stated that this was the ‘most important’ factor in building their wealth.

‘Creative intelligence’ is key to financial success. The following is a comparison between the percentage of entrepreneurs (and in brackets the percentage of attorneys) who agreed that the following factors played a decisive role in their financial success: seeing opportunities others do not see: 42 (19); finding a profitable niche: 35 (14).

The role of habitus

* Intimate knowledge of required codes of dress and etiquette

* Broad-based general education

* An entrepreneurial attitude, including an optimistic outlook on life

* Supreme self-assurance in appearance and manner.

He identifies a key quality that is essential for any prospective appointee to the executive board or senior management of a major company: habitual similarities to those who already occupy such positions.

Skillset of Entrepreneurs

* The ‘conqueror’. The entrepreneur has to have the ability to make plans and a strong will to carry them out.

* The ‘organizer’. The entrepreneur has to have the ability to bring large numbers of people together into a happy, successful creative force.

* The ‘trader’. What Sombart describes as a ‘trader’, we would more likely call a talented salesperson today. The entrepreneur has to “confer with another, and, by making the best of your own case and demonstrating the weakness of his, get him to adopt what you propose. Negotiation is but an intellectual sparring match.”

Entrepreneurial success personality traits

* Commitment

* Creativity

* A high degree of extroversion

* Low levels of agreeableness

Entrepreneurial success personality traits

* Orientation towards action after suffering disappointments (the entrepreneur remains able to act, even after failure)

* Internal locus of control (the conviction “I hold my destiny in my own two hands”)

* Optimism (the expectation that the future holds positive things in store)

* Self-efficacy (the expectation that tasks can be performed successfully, even in difficult circumstances).

constant power struggles with their teachers in order to ascertain who would emerge the stronger from such confrontations.

Secret of selling

* Empathy

* Didactics

* Expert knowledge

* Networking.

Conscientiousness is the dominant personality trait. Extroversion is also very common among the interviewees. Openness to Experience is very common

A high tolerance to frustration is one of the most characteristic personality traits of this group.

exceptionally high levels of mental stability.

primarily characterize entrepreneurs as being prepared to swim against the current and make their decisions irrespective of majority opinion.

“No, I never did that (lost my temper). I never get loud. But I can be resolute and say: “That is unacceptable.” And then you either have to go your separate ways or make a decision that the other party might not like. It’s the same in negotiations. I was always described by other people as a bit of a toughie.”

Having the courage to stand against majority opinion is probably a prerequisite for making successful investments, as this is what makes it possible to buy cheap and sell high.

Many of the interviewees spoke about their ability to switch off and direct their focus, even in the event of major problems. The interviewees consistently referred to their ability to focus on solutions, rather than torturing themselves with problems.

At least in the initial phases of wealth creation, most of the interviewees rated their own risk profiles as very high. This changes during the stabilization phase, when risk profiles decrease. In this phase, the hypothesis of moderate risk does apply.

Conscientiousness was the interviewees’ most dominant personality trait. It is important to remember that the Big Five theory’s definition of conscientiousness does not just include qualities such as duty, precision, and thoroughness, but also emphasizes diligence, discipline, ambition, and stamina.

[vintagelasvegas]

Travelodge, 2830 S. Las Vegas Blvd – 1958.

Oldest rooms on the Strip.

Ted Griss owned the land when the motel was built. The Travelodge Corp. had a management formula whereby the corp. designed, financed, constructed, and equipped each new Travelodge project, then entered into a partnership with a couple of family who then became the managing partners. Co-owners of this Travelodge were Laura Belle and Maxwell Kelch (Las Vegas promotions pioneer) with Lois and James E. Zurcher, and Opal and J.H. Tompkins. The Kelch family were still owners in the late 70s. Ted Griss' widow Agnes Griss sold the land in the 70s. It has sold several times since then with the motel operating on a lease.

The motel broke ground in Fall '57 and opened either late that year or early 1958.

The motel was involved in one of the oldest unsolved murder cases in Clark County. On 2/4/59, 45-year old motel clerk Evelyn Grace Shank was abducted from the motel during an apparent robbery gone wrong. She was found killed near Blue Diamond.

And a birth. “I was born in this hotel in ‘72, given up for adoption and it’s listed as my place of birth ... Not too many born ‘on the Strip’” -Theresa Kozak Cohagen.

1958 Kodachrome slide, taken from the future site of Circus Circus, from Eddy C. Below, construction photo circa '57/58; postcards '50s-'70s; 2007 photo by Allen Sandquist, Roadsidepictures. The curved wall and sign were replaced in 2009 by a store.

Sources include: New Travelodge Adds to Strip Design with Building. Review-Journal, 9/29/57 p16; R-J Viewpoint: Tremendous booster is lost to Las Vegas. Review-Journal, 12/2/77.

Updated 12/7/2024

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: Happy Friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The grocery store is a panoply of colours and sounds. You feel hollow as you lean on the cart and trawl the aisles. You won't fill it, you got it for support. Your legs are weaker by the minute.  

You balance out every credit in your shop. You can't go a dollar over the allotment. It isn't very much at the end. Better for you, you're worried about carrying it all. 

You swipe the card and crumple the list. You had to leave a few things off. You hook the bags over your shoulders, the effort further sending your burnt hand to pulse. As you come out onto the beaming light, you examine the tortured flesh peeking out. You unwind the fraying bandage and gasp, tears springing free as you peel it away from the sticky, stinky flesh. 

It stings in the open air. You keep it up against your chest and walk on. It's more of a lumber as your feet drag and your body moves stiffly. The sun beats down mercilessly and has you sweating despite the constant shiver rolling through you. 

You slow as you come in sight of your building. You look around cautiously, searching for the glasses and blond beard. Did he listen? Did he go away or is he lurking? Just like Lee, always waiting... 

You don't see him. The edges of your vision are so blurry, you can't be sure. You don't have the energy to worry about him. You just want to go back to bed. 

You cross the street and clumsily aim the keys at the slot. Through one door, then the next. You don't hear them catch behind you but you can only hear the echoing impact of each step. 

You stagger into the apartment and leave the chain to dangle, the latch flipped the wrong way. You trod into the kitchen but don't have the length to lift the bags onto the counter. You drop them on the floor and stare. You're so tired and you can't stop shaking. 

As you stand there, time and space pinpoints on you. You look around, the silence setting in. It's so quiet. You can't hear your mom. Or him.  

"Now aren't ya gon put that all away?" Lee drawls as his weight creaks in the floor. 

You nod without looking back and make a noise. You can't muster a single word. You bend to reach into a bag and take out the box of generic macaroni and cheese. You hobble to the counter and set it down, using your good hand to open the cupboard. You put it on the shelf and grasp the door. 

You're so dizzy. You lean on the counter and suddenly, the doors swinging shut. The edge hits your cheek and you yelp. You're crushed against the drawers as Lee pens you in from behind. 

"You're startin' to really tee me off. Takin' your time and all. Like you ain't good for nothin'," he snarls as you fold over the counter top. "Whatsa matter with you? You not gonna fight, huh?" 

He grabs a fistful of hair and wrenches your head back. You heave as your hand slaps painfully on the stained linoleum, the flesh radiating with flame. You whimper as his other hand creeps around your stomach. He pushes on your pelvis until his crotch is flush to your ass. 

"Let me show you what you're good for, huh?" He sneers and shoves his hand down the front of your pants. You whimper as he touches the coil patch of hair beneath, "mm, feel that? You want this. Ain't even got no panties." 

"Stop," you murmur as your head lolls from his grasp. 

"You'll be beggin' me not to in a minute," he snorts and forces his fingers between your thighs. 

"Sto-sto-stop!" You stammer out helplessly. 

"Now, you keep quiet. It won't be long," he leans into you until your hips ache, "teach ya to be disrespectful." 

He curls his fingers and scratches between your folds. You whine and gulp through your dry throat. Panic surges through your delirium as you reach back to claw with your injured hand. A shriek erupts at the the vibrant agony. 

"Ahhhhhh!" You wail, "mom! Mom! Help!" 

"She drank herself stupid already," he growls and nips at your ear, "just us, girl." 

"Mom!" You yelp as his fingers dip towards your entrance, his rough palm scraping against your soft flesh, "mom!" Your heart throbs and your head rings, "mom!" He pushes his fingertips through your tight slit and you erupt, "MOMMY!” 

Your knee hit the wood as you wriggle against him. You’re so weak. The walls close in as you feel yourself losing your grasp, not just on the counter but on the world. His fingers sink in deep, the callouses rough against your delicate walls. 

Suddenly, you’re jarred and the room tips over. You hit the tile in a heap and groan. Your fiery hand rests against the cool squares as your vision swirls and you hear huffing and puffing, grunts intermingled and the crack of violence. Thwack, thwack, thwack. 

Lee’s heavy figure hits the wall and his legs go out from under him as he slides onto his ass. You blink through the silty haze and shake your head. It’s all foggy and senseless. It wasn’t you who pushed him off. It can’t have been. 

“Mom,” you mutter as you try to sit up only to fall back as your hand burns with acid. Your blood is hot but your skin is ice. “Mom, what’s going on?” 

A dark shape bounces off of Lee’s jaw and red dribbles down his chin as he leans against the wall, slumping down onto his shoulder. You drone mindlessly as you bring your hand over your stomach and whine. It hurts so bad. The shadow moves to stand over you and you close your eyes. 

“Please...” you beg. It’s definitely not your mom; they’re too big, too strong. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” the grizzly timbre tickles in your ears as something firm slips beneath you; one arm around your shoulders, the other under your knees. 

You float in the air, eyes threatening to roll back as you fight through the clouds, your form jittering uncontrollably against the blaze that surrounds you. The man is hotter than fire. You tilt your head up and see the tufts of his short blond beard. 

It’s him. It’s Professor Smith but why is he there? Where is he taking you? All those questions merely stir in your slanted consciousness as your head falls against his shoulder. You’re too tired to think and you’re done fighting. It never you any good anyhow. 

You feel the motion of his steps and how he angles you through the door. Down the stairs and outside back into the unbearable light. You squeeze your eyes tight. He continues on, laying you into something soft. You look at him between your eyelids and garble. 

“Sweetheart, just stay here,” he bids in his lilt, pulling a lever to recline the car seat. The vinyl smells brand new and the upholstery looks just as pristine. It stamps your vision before you once more hide inside your head. “I’ll be back.” 

You don’t protest. Why is he doing all this? For you? He’s your professor... it doesn’t make much sense. Nothing does right now. Everything is just messy. 

He puts the engine on. The low whir is comforting. He adjusts the vents to blow air, though it feels hot to you. He stands and removes his jacket, spreading it over your quivering shoulders and chest. He huffs and cranes to see behind him. 

The door shuts and locks at his back as he leaves you. You stay as you are. It’s as comfortable as you’ve been in days. Time stretches on, crackling in your ears. You drift off into a void, brought back only by the hollow thunk of the electric locks. 

Professor Smith tosses something in the backseat and snaps the door closed, moving to the driver’s. He sits beside you and lets the car idle. He reaches over to touch your forehead as your lashes flutter at him. He hums as he appears as a ghostly smear. 

“Very well,” he says and the car rolls into motion. 

📓

You jolt up, a splash of water flying up across your face and chest as you rip your hand away from the electrifying pain. You’re caught by the shoulder and hushed. You blink tightly and lean back, looking over at the man on the other side of the porcelain. Professor Smith reaches over to take your hand out of the water, the ripples scalding on the tormented skin. 

“It’s already infected,” he says, “you’ll make it worse. I’m trying to dress it so be still.” 

Your confusion nips at your ears as you look down at yourself. You’re naked, in a tub of steaming water, the scent of lilies roiling up with the wisps. He sighs and you hiss as he presses a wet swab to the burnt patches of skin. Some of it even looks green. 

His sleeves are rolled to his elbows and there are cuts and scrapes on his own knuckles. Even so, his nails are cut and tidy and his skin is clean. He is diligent in his attention to your own mottled skin. 

You put your hand over your lap, trying to hide but all modesty is spent. You’re too dazed to care that much. There’s bigger questions. Where are you? Why? 

“I couldn’t let you to wallow in such a horrid place,” he speaks as he works, his touch gentle despite the thickness and firmness of his hand. “And after our last interaction, I could not just tuck my tail. It isn’t of my nature.” He tuts as he wets a new swab with alcohol, “and the filth--” 

“Professor...” you slur. “What... why?” 

“There are many details, yes, I had to jump through hoops but you needn’t worry for all that. What’s more important is we get you clean. The state of it,” he shakes his head, “a day or two more and you might’ve died.” He stills his hands and looks at you. You dare to meet his gaze, shame scalding as hot as the fever, “it wouldn’t do.” 

You frown, “I didn’t ask for help--” 

“Well, you are getting it,” he scoffs and sets back to disinfecting. “And a mother like that. Neglectful...” 

“She’s... lost.” 

“It doesn’t matter, does it? She’s still a mother. Bringing that man around. Certainly, he isn’t the first, either.” 

You lower your head. You wince and whimper as he carries on but you do not pull away. He works methodically. 

“We’ll get some antibiotics in you and tuck in,” he speaks to himself, “perhaps they can have some broth brought up to the room. Never fear, I’ve brought my own sheets and sanitized ever speck.” 

You cough and shake your head. You can’t keep up. 

“When you’re up to it, we’ll leave town. I do fear I will have to be back in office, at least my home office, within the week,” he takes out a roll of gauze and you wince. 

“I’m... what’s going on?” You ask. 

“Naturally, when you start something you need to follow through,” he says, “I’ve done and started this, haven’t I?” 

“Started what?” You utter. 

“Can’t take you back now,” he secures the bandage and lets your arm rest over the porcelain. “Don’t get that wet.” 

“Sir, professor,” you sit up, another spiraling sensation overcoming you. You look down and fold up to hide yourself, your exposure tingling over you, “what... please tell me what’s going on.” 

“Would you need help? Cleaning, I mean. Purely practical,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind. Of course, I did wipe your face already, did my best with the hair...” he sits back on the low cushioned stool he’s on and puts his elbows on his knees, “there is soap and a fresh scrubber there.” 

“Can you please just--” you bluster and a faintness blows through you, sending you back against the porcelain. You slip down dangerously, your arm sticking up against the side of the tub. He catches your elbow, heaving you back up as he bends over you.  

“Yes, feverish still,” he says, “perhaps a hot bath is not the best for it.” He hauls you up and sits you on the ledge of the great basin, “hang onto me then, I will get you washed up.” 

You have no other choice but to obey. The humiliation cannot feed the strength you need to resist. You cling to him with your uninjured arm and lean your head on his shoulder. He pauses before he can grab the scrubbie and instead rubs your back. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos, “yes, right then.”  

His hand lingers before he reaches once more and swipes up the bottle and sponge, moving his arms around you. You collapse into him and groan. At least he isn’t hurting you. Not like Lee.