#I have to finish reading this later it is a HUGE article!

[pro-birth]

Certain aspects of what makes a woman a woman (or what makes a man a man) can be gleaned from scientific studies that go more than skin-deep. Gender-specific medicine (also called sex/gender-specific medicine or sex-and-gender-sensitive medicine in medical research), is a new field of science that seeks to discover exactly this: how male and female bodies differ in their disease development and response due to differences below the surface, from their hormones, to their brain structures, to their internal physiology, and even down to their DNA. In other words, gender-specific medicine recognizes (and aims to further discover) the inherent differences between men and women and the vast implications those differences have for how medicine can best treat both male and female patients

[oddberryshortcake]

Don’t do grad school kids

It fucks ya up

[ms-demeanor]

Hello,Do you have any tips for recovering from internet brain rot? It's like my patience has dried up and if there's a huge amount of text (even about topics I'm very interested in) that I have to read, I get annoyed and just don't interact with the material at all.

I have multiple tips!

TL;DR (Because of course I generated a wall of text): Take a break from the internet, create a schedule for getting yourself used to reading longer texts, take breaks while reading, and perhaps reconsider how you interact with The Internet and the world in general.

Here are the basic "to reduce the brain rot just don't interact" tips:

Take a break. Give yourself time off from The Internet (for these purposes The Internet is the social media industrial complex; clickbait news, recommended videos, social media sites, etc. You don't have to totally check out of email or your local news site, just get away from the huge time sucks). I'd say to take at least one day a week where you're online for less than an hour a day, and to maybe work up to doing a week-long break from whatever the main agents of rot are.

Once you've identified the main agents of rot, give yourself a time limit or set up rules for yourself. I don't let myself look at social media in bed, for instance; no staying up late on my phone, no scrolling before I get up and start my day. I don't give myself a strict time limit anymore, but for a while there I was very firm about "you only get to go online 4 hours a day" with myself.

Don't comment (or at least only share the things you really want to share). If you feel the need to argue, or if you feel pressured into sharing something, don't. Step back, maybe even open the post in a new tab or send it to yourself, and come back later. If you've been thinking about it and have decided it IS something you care enough to talk about, share it. If you look at the tab and feel stressed out or still feel reactive, close the tab and walk away.

Go out and interact with the real world in a non-work capacity for a few hours a week; take walks or go shopping or go out and take pictures of insects. Touch grass so that The Internet is not the only thing you're doing with your downtime.

Here are the "work on reading longer texts specifically" tips:

Set a reading goal for yourself. Maybe you want to read one New Yorker article a week, maybe you want to read all the way through news articles, maybe you want to read novels like you used to in high school. Figure out what your actual goal is and articulate that goal to yourself.

Set up a practice schedule and gradually increase the amount of time you're reading. Don't go from short tumblr posts to a novella, go from short tumblr posts to slightly longer news articles, then to slightly longer essays, then to a novella. You can do this in literal paragraphs if you want to - maybe your goal for your first day is to read five paragraphs in a row, and the second day is seven, and the third day is ten, etc, until you are comfortably reading for longer amounts of time without counting paragraphs. (Try this with books from gutenberg.org; read a classic you haven't read a few paragraphs at a time and if you find yourself going over your paragraph count, let yourself run with it. If you finish a book, good for you, find another one and start again.)

Set up a maintenance schedule. If your goal is to read longer news pieces, try to read a longer piece every week and try to read to the end of every news article you open. If your goal is to read novels or longer nonfiction, try to read a book a month (maybe setting aside dedicated time each week to read, maybe Thursday evenings are book time now). If you find yourself falling back into old habits, take a break from The Internet and do some more rigorous practice for a while.

If you find yourself getting frustrated while you are reading you can also take a break! Read until you get frustrated and then *instead of switching to a different page or closing the article* close your eyes or look out the window or away from the screen for thirty seconds (count 'em! count out the time in your head) and then continue reading. You can also take a longer pause and sit and think about why you're getting frustrated. Is it the subject matter? Is it just looking at this text for longer than a couple minutes (if you are experiencing FOMO because you're reading for another few minutes instead of scrolling, the harder tips at the bottom are going to be important to you)? Are you comfortable? Are you reading this text to procrastinate from something and the procrastination is making you nervous? Are you trying to read to the bottom of your dash and reading a long post is taking up more time than you want while scrolling? Are you bored? Genuinely and very seriously: are your eyes straining and does your head hurt (if this is the case when is the last time you had your eyes checked or your glasses prescription updated)?

Here are the much harder "examine yourself and reassess your reactions to things" tips:

Work on re-training your attention span.

Identify something that you enjoy and find deeply engaging, and schedule some dedicated time for that thing. Set a literal timer (it can be a short amount of time at first) and sit down and do the thing without switching to a different website or opening up an app on your phone. This can be re-reading or watching a couple episodes of a show you like or listening to your favorite album while you sit down and draw. What's important is to spend a longer time focusing on doing something you DO like before attempting to spend a longer time focusing on something you DON'T like.

When you're starting on things you DON'T like, start with things you mildly don't like, or that feel tedious but aren't actually unpleasant. One way I do this is by transcribing poetry; I look up poems that I connect to and I transcribe them into a notebook that I have for that purpose. I enjoy having the finished product, but I don't enjoy the process, so it takes some effort to stick with it. Maybe there is a boring book you have been trying to get through, maybe you need to detail your car, maybe you've been trying to take up embroidery - these are good things to make yourself pay attention to (having music or a podcast on can help, but avoid watching videos or opening social apps)

When you're okay at that kind of thing (doing something not actively unpleasant) work on your attention span for things you ACTIVELY don't like. I don't think you should be a masochist about this, but you should work on being okay with doing unpleasant things for a sustained period of time. All of us have to do unpleasant stuff sometimes, and it's better to be able to pay attention to it for an hour at a time than it is to put it off forever.

This leads into the next Big Tip which is:

Work on being less reactive

Find something that you dislike; I'm going to use conservative talk radio as my example.

Expose yourself to the disliked thing for short periods of time (under ten minutes, maybe under five minutes).

Work on moderating your emotions during the time spent exposed to the disliked thing. If it makes you angry, work on intellectualizing the anger without becoming agitated by it. If it makes you sad, work on accepting that sadness without letting it drag down your mood. This isn't precisely about becoming numb to stimuli, but it is about being more in control of how your emotional reactions impact you.

Analyze the disliked thing. Why does it make you angry? Is that on purpose by the creator of the thing? Would it make someone else angry in the same way? How would you explain the anger to a neutral third party?

Consider responding instead of reacting. Let's say you're seeing a lot of very sad and upsetting things online and it's making you sad and upsetting you. You re-share these things because you don't feel like there's anything else you can do or you get angry when you see people sharing incorrect information, perhaps you argue with people about this. Now try looking at the upsetting things through the lens of point number four. This has upset you; how has it upset you? And once you've thought about how it upset you and have articulated that to yourself, find out what you can DO. I cannot make conservative talk radio go off the air, but I can support the groups harmed by conservative talk radio; thus there is no point in me getting upset and angry about conservative talk radio when I could be helping the people they target instead.

And that gets us to the last big tip which is:

Ask yourself if you are spending your time in a way that is enjoyable and edifying.

We all have limited time in our days and limited time in our lives. If you are finding yourself frequently frustrated online, it's a good time to consider whether you want to be spending so much time online.

If you feel like The Internet has become a rat race in which you can't read more than a few paragraphs without getting frustrated, there's a good chance that not only are you spending too much time on The Internet, but you're also spending it on doing things that you don't particularly like.

A realization like yours, Anon, that you are getting frustrated with any longer texts, can actually be really helpful because it provides a good opportunity to look at what you're engaging with and consider the questions:

Is this something I enjoy?

Do I feel good when I do this thing?

And that's a great way to figure out how to get rid of things that are leading to your background frustration. Maybe that looks like paring down the list of blogs you follow, maybe that looks like unsubscribing from some youtubers and podcasts, maybe that looks like uninstalling apps, maybe that looks like blocking a whole bunch of people and terms on your socials.

I don't think that everything we do has to help us grow as a person or expand our consciousness or anything like that, but I do think it's important to prioritize doing things that you like and doing things that you feel good about.

Like, I'm not doing something *wrong* if I spend an afternoon on Youtube watching drama channels every once in a while, but if I come out of a few afternoons of watching youtube drama channels feeling restless and anxious and like I wasted my time - even if I enjoyed myself while I was watching - it's probably a good idea for me to take a break from drama channels and see if there's something I can do instead that will make me feel better.

ALSO, A NOTE:

You are an animal that requires significant enrichment in your enclosure.

Think about tigers. Tigers in captivity are going to be excited to get high-value treats for any reason. They will eat and enjoy the treats. But if a tiger in captivity is only given the treats and never given any other form of activity to engage with, it is not going to be a happy tiger. If you start putting their treats in a pumpkin or a puzzle feeder or giving them toys to play with, that is going to be a much happier tiger.

Please give your brain things to play with that are more than just treats (though it does need some treats!). Make yourself a happy tiger. Your brain need a puzzle feeder, not a treat button.

[avocado-writing]

8 anon here! Could I request "kissing off the crumbs from their cheeks when eating" from quiet acts of love that make me cry prompt list for poly Wade and Logan with gn s/o please?

Logan finds that, occasionally, you and Wade are so in sync that it's... weird.

when the three of you are cuddled up on the couch together watching some dumb movie, you'll come out with the same quip when the protagonist does something reckless and then exchange a huge giggly grin across the expanse of Logan's chest. or if he's going to the store and asks if you want a drink, you'll often both chorus that you want a mountain dew (a terrible soda, Logan will always scoff at the choice... but bring back a couple of cans anyway).

no wonder the two of you are so fuckin' in love. you're basically the same goddamn person. at first when you'd opened your bed and your hearts to him, he'd been a little intimidated about where he might fit in. now, several months later? he knows exactly where he belongs. right between the two of you.

he's eating a couple of slices of toast this morning, skimming the paper as he waits for you to get out of bed. he's the earliest riser and uses it to his advantage - read the headlines and do the abandoned washing up from last night.

a shift from the bedroom. you walk out sleepily, Wade in tow. two lit-up smiles from your faces when he's spotted.

"mornin', peanut. aww, look at how tidy everything is! thank you for being a good house husband!" says Wade, noting the lack of dirty plates. Logan grunts at this but doesn't bother responding further. in fact he only looks up from his article when he feels one of you either side - a flanking position.

"what are you..."

he doesn't get to finish asking his question before you both swoop in, dropping a kiss on either corner of his mouth: you on his right, Wade his left.

"you had a crumb. just cleaning you up, Lo," you hum, peppering his cheeks with more little pecks. Wade just goes straight to nibbling his earlobe.

"can't have our peanut going round looking messy, hmm? it's our job to do that to you..."

Logan tries to hide his blush and fails. when your hands get involved too, he abandons the paper altogether.

[yeoldenews]

My original plan was to follow up my big article on Regency era given names right away with one about Regency era nicknames. I figured there was probably a decent amount out there about what common nicknames were used during what time periods, and that the research would take me a couple weeks at most. Ha. Hahahahahahaha.

So here I am three months later with 24 pages of typed notes, two huge spreadsheets, literally hundreds of sources, and still no conclusive evidence of where the hell Sukey came from.

I, ever the avid ignorer of sunk-cost fallacy, still plan to finish this project (largely because of how frustrated I am that no one’s ever written about it before) - but it’s probably going to be a while. 

While I'm finishing this up, in order to not disappear entirely, I’m going to be instituting a Throwback (insert random day of the week). In the past I have generally avoided reposting things, but I recently received an email from tumblr stating that this blog is now 14 years old. So, considering that there may now be posts on this blog older than some of the people reading them, I’m thinking there are probably quite a few old posts that people missed the first time around. Possibly because they were toddlers.

If you need me in the meantime, I’ll be fighting the name Alexander in a Denny’s parking lot.

[olomaya]

Shhh!! It's a Library (mod)

27 Sept Update: Found a better shushing sound so I replaced with that. Also added ITUNs for the non computer interactions. Thanks to @cs2te for the Brazilian Portuguese translation! Redownload (if you want these updates) at the link below.

(Note: This mod uses the Ticket Machine animations for the kiosk. If you don't have it, you can download it here. Honestly, it's not that important and without it, your Sim will just stand in front of the machine for a second, that's it)

I'm officially in my Streets era. I'm building out all the community lots in my town so you're going to be seeing a lot of community/town related stuff from me for the next few months. My Sims are trying to be outside!

First up! This is a small library mod that allows you to search for books at the library using this gorgeous kiosk object from @aroundthesims. If the book is in the library, it tells you where they are by panning the camera to the bookshelf that has the book and putting a blue outline around it for 10 Sim minutes. Pretty simple. 

Features:

Browse Catalog… pulls up all books in the library

Search by… Category | Title | Author - pulls up any book that matches your search entry

Request a Book to Order -  allows you to add more books to the library. 

You can only order the types of books that are allowed in community libraries so no books that are destroyed after you finish reading them (e.g. recipes, song compositions) and no academic textbooks.

You can order written books, including articles, as well as books from other worlds (e.g. Shang Simla, etc) though for the latter, there is a §35 “overseas shipping cost” added to order these books. 

Once you order a book, the mod will check whether the library has enough money to purchase it and then place the order. 

Ordered books are added to the library at 8am the next day and you’ll receive a notification that the books have been added.

Library Funding

In order to pay for the books ordered, library kiosks have a budget. Every kiosk, upon creation, comes with a §250 budget.

The library budget is the total amount of funds in all kiosks on the lot. Costs are deducted from individual kiosks even if that specific kiosk doesn't have enough money for the book so long as the library budget has enough money.

Support your Local Library

Sims can donate books (up to 3 books at a time) to the library using the book donation bin. The bin must be placed on the library lot (either outside or inside) and you need to have books in your inventory. Your Sim will get 500 Lifetime Happiness points for every book donated. (this is related to another mod that I’m working on. More on that at a later date!)

There is also a computer interaction that lets you donate money to the library. Sims that donate §2500 or more will get a 4-hour charitable moodlet. Donations are added to the library budget.

Finally, Bookworms and Proper Sims can shush other Sims at the library. Once shushed, all Sims in the same room doing social interactions or playing music instruments will stop. (You'll find, like in real life, people quickly go back to doing what they're doing so it's kind of useless but it was a low lift so I kept it in). If someone can think of a good "shushing" sound from the game, let me know!

Credits/Thanks: Both credit and huge thanks go to @aroundthesims for creating this beautiful library set and the kiosk which I used as the main object. I did recategorize it to Misc Electronics instead of Sculptures. If you already have it in your game, you may need to remove it or you can just change the script to “Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.olomaya.LibraryStuff.Kiosk”.  The donation bin is from Sketchfab created by TheLatestShit (that’s their name, thank you TLS!) and can be found in Misc Storage.

Read through everything below the cut before downloading please! Important instructions below!

Important things to note:

The kiosk must be placed on a counter. If it’s not, your sim will reset because they can only interact with it if it’s on a counter. If you are having issues with resetting, place it on an EA-made counter to confirm it’s not this issue first before you reach out for support. You can use OSMP counters provided they are cloned from a counter and place the kiosk on there and put it wherever you want (like I’ve done in my photo. the kiosk is actually on an OSMP counter, not the white table).

Pulling up the entire library catalog, depending on how many books you have on the lot, can take a few (or several) seconds. Or maybe it won’t, I play on a brick laptop so it does for me

Keyword searches are case sensitive so “raymundo” yields no results, but “Raymundo” will bring up the 85 copies of that 🤬 book that your library probably has

The search will only check books that are in bookshelves, it will ignore library books that have been taken out of the bookshelf and are being read or lying around.

Book requests and financial donations can only be made at public libraries and not privately-owned libraries. So if a Sim in your town owns the lot, these options won’t come up (it should be the owners’ responsibility to buy books). You can still donate books though.

You can have multiple kiosks on the lot. If you delete a kiosk, its funds (if it has any) will be transferred to any of the other kiosks on the lot so you don’t lose the money. 

There is a debug interaction on the kiosk that allows you to check the library budget.

You can order one book at a time but there’s no limit to how many you can do in a day but once the books are delivered the next morning, the mod will check whether the library has enough money and will only order the books there is money for

Download HERE | alt: HERE

@simstifulccfinds @kpccfinds @katsujiiccfinds @pis3update @wanderingsimsfinds

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 4.5k ➠ warnings: cursing, suggestive (no smut but they’re in love and horny lol) ➠ genre: fluff, established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (comes after saltwater smiles), some minor angst again but it’s about like growing up and being a human and finding your place and purpose as an adult, not between our couple or anything ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ series masterlist

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this. From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Yo, tell them about the championships against the Sharks, Sungchan!” Your colleague, Seunghan, insisted, pushing on your fiancé’s shoulder with his hand that held a drink.

Sungchan looked down at his feet for a moment, and you caught a quick flash of hesitation on his features before he looked back up at the group of enthralled people and gave a lighthearted chuckle and charismatic smile. “I’ve already told that story tonight, I’m sure everyone here doesn’t want to hear it again. Besides, don’t you all want to hear about Y/N’s paper?”

You two were at a rather ritzy gathering being thrown by your department celebrating that one of your articles had been chosen for publication in a huge literary theory journal.

“Anton wasn’t here when you told it earlier!” Seunghan shook a grad student instructor in your department. “And we’ve all read her paper like a hundred times before it got published.”

You reached up to squeeze Sungchan’s arm through his suit jacket. “It’s okay, Channie. I want to hear about it. That was championships your junior year, right? I wasn’t there, remember?”

He focused his gaze down on you for another second as if making extra sure, and you nodded and gave him a smile for good measure. He sighed, wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and began the story, much to all your colleagues’ delight.

A little later in the night found you by the drinks table with Ten. When you had moved back to your old college town to accept a position with the Literature department, you hadn’t expected to walk in on your first day and see a familiar face. Sure, you knew you’d be seeing Dr. Son, who was the department head now and had conducted your interview, and several of your old professors, but you’d been keeping up with most of your old schoolmates and as far as you knew, Ten had moved away after you two finished your two-year master’s program and remained there.

Ten swirled his cocktail around his glass before taking a sip, his eyes trained on your fiancé, who was still surrounded. “Why do I never get that treatment?”

“Maybe you should’ve been captain,” you snickered, taking another sip of your soda.

“Too much work.” Your friend wrinkled his nose. “So what is your man doing these days anyway? He get that PhD in molecular biology about fish or whatever?”

“Yep, he’s a whole doctor,” you told your coworker, looking over at your guy with pride. “Defended his thesis last spring, we did a short stint abroad for about a year for him to study some rare fish in the tropics to cure a rare blood disease. I enjoyed all the food and the sun, really. He probably got skin cancer. And now we’re back here. He’s actually doing his post-doc research here, too.”

“He’s curing blood diseases in tropical fish?”

“No, sorry, in people,” you covered your mouth as you laughed. “Somehow, the fish could help cure a human blood disease, I’m not sure about anything past that.”

“And you’ve got a fat rock on your finger,” he teased, grabbing your hand to inspect your engagement ring. “What a power couple.”

You giggled, letting him look over the ring. “Yeah, something like that. He proposed when we were abroad. God, it was the most gorgeous sunset. Just us, nice and quiet.”

“I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

“Duh. We just haven’t sent invites yet, bitch.” You pushed him with your foot, rolling your eyes. “It’s going to be a certified frat party, I’m afraid.”

“Kegger?” Ten grinned.

“I’m enlisting Taeyong and Kun to keep all you menaces in check for me.”

“Well yeah, you can’t trust your Chenle-of-Honor to do that, he’ll be the first up to do a kegstand.”

You laughed heartily at that. “A few years ago, probably. But I’m happy to report my man-shaped best friend has grown into a real adult.”

“Really? What’s the little monster doing?”

“Middle management in advertising at a designer company. He’s got his eye on a promotion soon, though. Oh, and he’s got the cutest little dog.”

“Speaking of little monsters…” Ten trailed off, eyeing your drink, then your abdomen. “No alcohol?”

“I can’t drink on my medication, remember?” You shook the ice around in your glass smugly.

“Damn!”

As you rode home with Sungchan, your hands entwined over the console, you looked out the passenger window with contentment in your chest.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he sighed, stroking a thumb over the backs of your fingers.

“For what?” You turned to look at him curiously.

His features were pensive and regretful as he focused on the road in front of him, one hand on the steering wheel. “For being a distraction all night. Everybody was asking me about hockey the whole time when all the focus should’ve been on you and your awesome article. I’m sorry, I'll completely understand if you just leave me at home next time.”

“Channie, why the hell would I do that?” You asked through incredulous chuckles, turning to hold his hand with two hands. “Celebrating my accomplishments would mean nothing if I didn’t have you there with me.”

“But I just—”

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect there to be so many puckheads in the Lang department,” you shrugged. “But I know where we work, and you are a bit of a hometown celebrity around here, baby.”

“That sounds like something you’d call somebody who peaked in high school.”

“Right, my bad. You peaked in college.”

“Rude.” He knocked your elbow with his, making you laugh.

“I’m kidding, handsome. But I am proud of you. I snagged a good guy, and I am not going to hide you away when I go to these events just because people are going to ask about your hockey career.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“I appreciate you trying to put the focus back on me tonight, I really do.” You squeezed his hand. “But when Seunghan said everybody in the department had read my article hundreds of times, he meant it. They all helped proof and revise it dozens of times each. I was tired of reading it by the time it was accepted if I’m being honest with you. Hearing about your hockey game was a welcome reprieve from thinking about the body as a critical site for sex, gender, and political ideology in M. Butterfly.”

“Do you mean that or are you trying to make me feel less like a dick?”

“I mean it, baby boy.” You pinched his cheek.

He squirmed in his seat as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “You never call me that anymore…”

“Seems like you needed it.”

“Hey,” he said softly, turning his head to look at you. “I love you.”

“I know.” You cupped his cheek, stroking his cheekbone fondly. “I never doubted that for a second, baby.”

Sungchan leaned across the console to press his lips to yours, cradling the back of your head. You hummed delightedly into the kiss, moving your mouth against his sweetly.

When you felt the car suddenly roll forward, you jerked back, gripping his arm with a yelp. “Channie!”

He was already grabbing the steering wheel with two hands and slamming on the brakes again. “Fuck! Sorry!”

The car had moved forward less than half a meter and you were the only car at the intersection, but it was enough to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay, baby?” Sungchan checked on you with wide eyes, keeping one hand on the wheel as he reached his other hand over to grab your knee.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You put your hand over his to reassure both of you. The light turned green then. “Let’s just uh, get home in one piece, hm?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He patted your thigh, leaving his hand there as he slowly started the car forward again.

“Channie?” You called out into the house, shrugging off your coat. You’d stayed a bit late to grade papers, and while Sungchan would’ve usually stayed to walk home with you, he had wanted to get a head start on cooking dinner.

“Pantry!” He yelled back, voice distant as he was presumably deep in the walk-in pantry.

You continued shuffling through the mail you’d grabbed on your way in as you walked further into your house, tossing the junk mail in the trash as you fished out the one packet that had caught your attention. Stopping at the doorway to the pantry, you tore open the thick packet. Skimming the letter and investigating the two lanyards inside, you informed your fiancé, “Donghyuck’s team is having a preseason scrimmage at the university, and he sent us VIP passes.”

Sungchan stuck his head back out of the pantry. “So that’s why he asked for our address the other day.”

“When did you talk to Hyuck?” You asked as he gently took the letter and lanyards from your hands.

“He called me out of the blue a couple weeks ago. I was at the gym before work and completely forgot by the time I got home, sorry, baby.” He flipped over the passes hanging from the lanyards, bright green and dark black, the colors of the professional hockey team that Donghyuck had gone on to play for after college. “I thought he was going to crash on our couch or something, not this.”

“He’s a pro hockey player making like millions a year and you thought he was going to ask to couch surf?”

“You think he wouldn’t?”

“Good point,” you chuckled. “So how was he? Sound like he was doing well?”

“You said it yourself, he’s a pro hockey player making millions a year. I’m sure he’s doing great.”

You frowned up at him. “You didn’t ask?”

“It was a quick conversation, he’s busy,” Sungchan shrugged and handed everything back to you, disappearing into the pantry again. “We barely had time to say hello.”

“We should go,” you declared, setting the lanyards down in a spot so you two wouldn’t lose them.

“Baby, it’s a Friday. That’s our date night.”

“We can miss one date night for this, Channie,” you scoffed. “Besides, I’ve never heard of Jung Sungchan not wanting to go see a hockey game. Are you sure you’re my Sungchannie? Were you replaced by an alien or something?”

Sungchan kept his back to you as he started chopping vegetables. “Never mind, you’re right. We should go.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but didn’t push the issue further. “Alright...”

Sat back down in familiar bleachers, you hugged Sungchan’s arm tightly, buzzing with excitement. As much as you had loved watching Sungchan play hockey when you were younger, there was something special about watching it with him, having him explain plays, tell you if a player made the right call, or how he would have done it if he had been captain. Being able to see the sparkle in his eye up close as he watched one of his favorite things. You’d seen it plenty of times in the years that you stayed local while he got his PhD. Which is how you knew that something was wrong now, even as he tried to flash a smile at you every so often, ones that never reached his eyes. He didn’t join in the cheers very enthusiastically, and never engaged when the other guys around him tried to debate calls that the refs made.

You found out that the whole team from your senior year had been invited as well, though some of them couldn’t make it. So it was you, Sungchan, Mark, Ten, Jeno, and Chenle in the VIP section. Yangyang was staying abroad with his parents, while Sicheng was at a seminar for work. Chenle was of course invited as an honorary member of the team, fresh off a plane from Paris with that promotion in his pocket.

Donghyuck was Good. He had been great when he was on the Raptors, obviously, which was how he had gotten scouted to go pro, but now he was great. And this was just a preseason scrimmage, just him messing around. You were sure he was scary good when he was actually trying at their real games. He’d kept his old number from college, 66, and seemed to have his own legion of fans with posters and signs.

When the game was finally over—and Donghyuck’s team won—a representative from the team corralled everyone with the VIP lanyards and directed you towards a different area while the rest of the stands filtered out. You kept your hold on Sungchan’s hand as you waited in what you were pretty sure was the women’s locker room for your old friend.

Finally, Donghyuck ran in, and everyone immediately swarmed him, hooting and hollering, slapping him on the back, ruffling his hair, and making teasing remarks about being a big shot now.

“Mark!” Donghyuck threw his arms around his old Big’s neck, nearly knocking his friend over.

“Christ, dude,” Mark wheezed, stumbling back a couple steps. “Are you still wearing your gear or something?”

“Did you not keep up with our lifting regiment?” Donghyuck shamelessly felt up Mark’s arms, then gasped dramatically. “Am I the Big now?”

Mark swatted his hands away. “If you want to pay for all my beer and drive me around in your Lamborghini or whatever, sure.”

“Deal!” The pro player grinned, then turned to the next person, who happened to be you. “Y/N!”

“Hyuck!” You beamed, opening your arms wide for him to throw himself at you as well, only staying up since Sungchan was right behind you to catch you. “Hey, there! God, I can’t believe it! You killed it out there!”

“Thanks!” He let go of you with one arm to wrap it around Sungchan’s neck, pulling him into the hug with both of you. “Oh, it makes me so happy that you two are still together! Are you engaged? Married? Kids? I didn’t have time to ask Sungchan when I called the other week, I was heading into an interview.”

You leaned back as much as he would let you, just enough to show off your ring. “He proposed last year. We’re— eugh!”

You were cut off by Donghyuck tugging you two against him into a tight embrace again. You gave him a pat on the back as you continued, slightly choked with your throat pressed against his shoulder. “We’re looking at a spring wedding…”

“I love you guys so much…” Donghyuck sighed. “All of you. I hope you know that hasn’t changed.”

“We know that, Hyuck.” You coughed, rubbing his back. “Make sure we have your address so we can send you an invite, okay?”

“What did I tell you, Y/N? In undergrad?”

“You told me a lot.” You laughed as he finally let you and Sungchan go. “Some stuff you probably don’t want me to repeat right now.”

“I said you guys were soulmates. I knew you were gonna get married. I knew it.”

“Oh yeah, you did.” You squeezed his hand that he still had a grip on. “Hey, when you retire from pro hockey, you can be a fortune teller.”

“Don’t joke about that, I’m the star player, haven’t you heard?” Donghyuck was practically puffing out his chest. “I’m years off from retirement!”

Sungchan grabbed him by the scruff then, teasingly mussing up his hair. “What did we always tell you about bragging?”

Ten, Jeno, and Mark eagerly joined in on giving him a killer noogie, the four of them managing to keep him in place despite Hyuck being the only one who had remained a professional athlete.

“Ack!” Donghyuck complained as he was surrounded. “Y/N! Chenle! Somebody, help!”

“Promise you’ll buy us dinner with your star player money,” Chenle crossed his arms over his chest as he watched on, “and maybe Y/N and I will convince them to leave you alone.”

“Yeah!” Jeno agreed. “Dinner and drinks and we’ll consider!”

“This is extortion!” Donghyuck yelped.

“Glad to see some things don’t change…” You sighed, shaking your head. “You guys still pick on him.”

“He needs an ego check,” Jeno snorted, his arm now around Donghyuck’s neck.

“I was going to take you all out to dinner anyway!” Donghyuck pleaded. “Didn’t you people read the letters?”

“It was in the letter, guys,” you confirmed loudly.

The guys all looked at each other, slowly releasing their holds on the youngest. With sweet, proud smiles, they fixed his hair and straightened his branded hoodie back up, smacking his shoulder and patting his cheek between compliments of how well he played and specific moves he did, giving feedback on certain things he could improve on still. Donghyuck rolled his eyes at the constructive criticism, but you could see him struggling to suppress the fond curl of his lip at being surrounded by his old teammates again.

When you finally got home that night, you felt about ready to collapse into bed. You had a tired, happy smile on your face from seeing all your old friends again, and haphazardly tossed your go bag to the side before stepping out of your shoes. Sungchan didn’t follow you into the bedroom, as you had expected. You heard him detour to the kitchen, and your ears perked up with interest as you changed into your pajamas.

Sungchan didn’t just get a glass of water, though. You heard him rooting around in the snacks, and that’s when you got concerned. You had just eaten dinner and had drinks, and he had plenty of bar snacks as you all hung around and caught up after finishing dinner. He shouldn’t be scrounging for a midnight snack already.

After tossing your dirty clothes in the hamper, you ventured out to the kitchen determinedly. Sungchan hadn’t yet found something to eat, a frustrated pout on his face as he pulled out box after box, but didn’t open any.

“Hungry?” You asked curiously, leaning against the fridge.

“No,” he sighed, setting the container of crackers down loudly then rubbing his face harshly.

You held your hand out towards him, and he took it immediately. You led him back through your house by the hand, into your bathroom and let go there. Walking back out through the house, you grabbed his desk chair from your joint home office, and pulled it into the bathroom. He was standing exactly where you left him, and let you wordlessly push him down by the shoulders to sit in the chair. Washing and drying your hands, you then readjusted the chair, making sure he was exactly where you needed him. Then you climbed onto his lap facing him, the two of you perpendicular to your bathroom vanity. You grabbed a fuzzy character headband from one of your drawers and put it on him, pushing his hair back from his face.

“I—”

“Shh.” You stopped him as soon as he opened his mouth, putting your own headband on.

Next, you grabbed your cleanser.

“What—”

“Shh,” you repeated with more emphasis, holding his eye contact firmly, until he gave up and closed his mouth, letting his head fall back against the head rest.

You meticulously went through your whole extended skincare routine, doing each step first on Sungchan, then on yourself. He finally gave up on trying to talk, then finally relaxed, then really relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut and a pleased hum rising in the back of his throat.

“All done, handsome,” you announced at the end, giving his cheeks a final squish between your hands, then pulling off his headband and fluffing up his hair.

Sungchan slowly opened his eyes, reaching up to take your headband off as well.

You smiled down at him. “How are you feeling, Channie?”

“Better, thank you, baby,” he replied quietly.

“You want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t look you in the eye. “About what?”

“Whatever’s been getting you bummed lately. You weren’t all there tonight, I could tell. And the day we got the passes, you didn’t even want to come in the first place. That’s not like you.” You put both your headbands aside on the counter, then stood up off him. “You get changed into your pajamas, I’ll tidy up in here. We’ll talk in a few minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, getting up and grabbing the chair to drag back with him.

You wiped down the bathroom counter and tidied up all your bottles and containers, listening to the sounds of Sungchan getting ready in the next room over. When you walked back into your bedroom, you were thrown for a loop as you couldn’t see your fiancé for a moment. You found him in your living room, sitting on your couch and holding a picture frame that usually lived on one of the end tables.

Sitting down beside him, you looked at the picture with him. It was of you two at his last collegiate hockey game, him still in his uniform as he picked you up and spun you around, bright smiles on both your faces. His face now was brooding, jaw clenched and eyes hard as he continued staring at it.

“You got me that for our first anniversary,” you commented softly. “I love that picture.”

“I do too,” he sighed, though his tone was much more bitter than his words.

“Talk to me, Channie,” you murmured. “What’s going on?”

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this.” He shook the frame. “From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Oh, Channie...” you breathed out, draping an arm across his back and leaning your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”

“It’s not you, baby,” he assured you, squeezing your knee. “It’s everything else. Like I try to do anything else, be anything else, but I’m just dragged back into that stupid jock box again.”

“Well, what do you want to be?” You asked as you sat back up, rubbing up and down the center of his chest soothingly. “Not what you think other people want you to be, or what you think you should be. What do you actually like? What do you want to do? Do you still like hockey? Outside of everybody’s opinions about you liking hockey? It’s okay either way, for you to still like it or not. It was the biggest thing in your life for like twenty years, baby. It’d be ridiculous to expect you to just suddenly not like it as soon as you graduated.”

“Do you really want a husband that just talks about sports all the time while you’re talking about smart stuff?” He sighed, letting his eyes close as he leaned all of his weight against you, his hands dropping to rest the frame in his lap.

“I want a husband that’s you. That’s why I accepted your proposal and not like, Dr. Yoon’s or something.”

“I’m going to assume you’re being hyperbolic to make a point and that my research head didn’t actually propose to you. Because if not, then I’m going to stop pouting and write my letter of resignation right now.”

“I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Which is?”

“You’re really underselling yourself, Channie.” You encouraged him to lay his head in the crook of your neck, not letting up your movements on his sternum. “You’re plenty smart. We’ve been together for almost seven years and I still couldn’t keep track of a hockey game if a gun was to my head. Meanwhile you were a whole captain. You had to make decisions on your feet—or, your skates. Not to mention, hm, oh yeah, you have a PhD in molecular biology. Did you forget about that? Doctor Jung?”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled into your collarbone.

“Oh yeah,” you mimicked him lovingly. “I nearly flunked my bio for non-majors course my freshman year, you know.”

“What?” He squinted up at you. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You knew I was a Bio major, you should’ve asked me for help.”

“I kick myself every day for it,” you replied melodramatically, and finally saw a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “So? Do you think you still like hockey or not?”

He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I do. I really do.”

“Good. I’m glad.” You kissed the top of his head. “I want you to do stuff that makes you happy.”

“Coach came and found me at the lab last week... the day we got the VIP passes from Donghyuck. He’s looking for a part-time assistant coach, said I was his first pick,” Sungchan admitted quietly.

“That’s why you were so... off that day, huh?”

“Yeah. It felt like I was handed a pamphlet for a retirement home.”

You chuckled as he reached forward to set the picture down on the coffee table, then grabbed your hand that was on his chest. He looked up at you with heartachingly familiar, big, round doe eyes, ones that hadn’t changed in the ten years since you’d first met.

“I told him no but... I’m thinking maybe I should ask if he’s found someone else yet?”

“I think that’s a great idea, baby.” You pecked his forehead. “Coach Jung… I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, a much different look in his eye as he sat up to his full height, towering over you.

“I don’t know, let me try it again.”

“Go ahead.”

“Coach Jung.” You reached for the back of his neck as he laid you down on your couch, hovering over you. “Yeah, it’s got a nice ring to it, huh? Powerful, sexy. I love a man with a whistle.”

“You’re so dorky,” he snickered, letting you pull his lips down to yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my Sungchannie.” You cradled his face with both of your hands.

“Lies.” He kissed your lips. “Impossible.” He kissed your neck.

“Says who?”

“Who has the whistle here?”

“You don’t have one yet,” you teased, holding your arms up for him to pull your shirt off. “Assistant Coach Jung.”

Sungchan kissed a trail down your front, stopping above your waistband. “You’re forgetting something, baby.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m a scientist, with a degree and everything, and I say it’s scientifically impossible for anybody to love anybody more than I love my girl.”

You made grabby hands at him, and he rose up from where he had settled between your legs, entirely blocking out the lights above you. You connected your mouths together again, wrapping your arms and legs around him so tightly he had no choice but to lay his entire weight on top of you.

“No fair,” you complained into his mouth. “I just told you I almost flunked Gen Ed bio.”

“You should’ve let me be your sexy tutor, then.” He didn’t sound sympathetic at all.

“Yeah, freshman you all sweaty and nervous in your hockey team hoodie.” You broke apart to giggle. “Real hot stuff, Channie. Literally.”

“You’re lucky you’re the love of my life, or I’d be really hurt at some of the stuff you say to me, you know.”

“You’re right.” You gave him a peck. “I am lucky that I’m the love of your life.”

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[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: smut (m masturbation), language

Chapter Three

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

You were nervous about the office dynamic once you broke up with Justin. That following Monday, you walked into the department and risked a glance over to his desk. He was hunched over his keyboard, burying himself in some report, looking mildly panicked. You frowned as you made your way to your chair and slunk down, punching in your password while you waited for your computer to boot up.

Colleen popped up quietly behind you.

"Sooooo? How was camping?” she whispered with a huge grin on her face. "Tell me all the details!”

She propped herself against the edge of your desk, trying not to draw Justin’s attention.

“I broke up with him,” you whispered back, eyes wide. You needed to tell someone, your nerves were on fire. You knew you shouldn’t have told the queen of gossip, but people would have figured it out soon enough. Colleen’s jaw dropped.

"What?! Why?” she whispered back, but louder than the first time. You put a finger up to your lips, indicating she was being too loud.

"I don’t know, I just don’t feel the same way he does. He’s a sweet guy, but there’s no spark. I didn’t want to lead him on,” you told her, and turned back to your computer, opening your email program.

“Well, your timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I don’t think he’s got the time to be upset over it. He came in this morning to an email from Joel, with Heather cc’d, wanting a full breakdown on the 401K contributions for the past 6 months. Apparently, he caught some discrepancy, and he wants answers first thing this morning,” she said, raising her head a few inches to glance over the top of your cubical wall in his direction. “He must be shitting his pants; Joel never contacts any of us directly. I don’t think he even knows most of our names.”

You felt guilty as relief flooded through you. At least there was a distraction from the elephant in the room.

About an hour later, Heather came to collect Justin. He followed her out of the room with a folder tucked under his arm and nervously running a hand through his hair. As he walked by your desk, he gave you a tight-lipped smile, which you returned. At least he wasn’t the type of guy to be an asshole about being dumped.

It had been three hours since Justin and Heather left for their meeting. At this point, his absence was painfully obvious to the whole room, and everybody had given up on trying to be discreet.

The whole department had rolled their desk chairs out to the openings of their respective cubes so they could all see one another as they gossiped and speculated wildly. All except for you. You tried your best to stay out of it, but you kept overhearing everyone’s chatter, and it was incredibly distracting.

“They couldn’t possibly still be talking about a minor discrepancy, could they?” one person asked.

“No way, something happened by now. Oh my God, what if he was stealing from our 401Ks? I read a newspaper article about someone doing that last week!”

“Oh come on, Justin wouldn’t do that,” Colleen chimed in. “I bet they finished up their meeting a long time ago, and he and Heather are in her office doing a deeper dive into the numbers together.”

Everyone went quiet for half a second when the electronic beeping of the door keypad caught the attention of the room. Chairs were hurriedly being pushed back up against desks, and fingers furiously typed, trying to log back into computers that had been long asleep during the gossip.

Heather walked into the hushed room with an empty banker’s box in her hands and headed straight for Justin’s desk. She set it down on his chair and turned to address the room openly.

"Hey guys, I’m sorry I didn’t have the time to call a formal meeting, but I wanted to tell you all personally before the email from HR comes out... Justin quit this morning.” She paused when a couple of people quietly gasped and exchanged looks. “Now I know we are going to have some big shoes to fill, I may call upon some of you to help and do some overtime until we can find a suitable candidate to take his position. As always, if any of you want to recommend anyone you know, my door is always open. But for now, we will just have to make do. Does anyone have any questions? You know I like to be transparent with you.”

Heather glanced around the room of stunned faces. Everyone was wondering the same question, but nobody had the nerve to ask it, until Debbie spoke up from behind you.

"Why did he quit? Was it Joel?” She was standing outside her cube, frowning with her arms crossed, no doubt feeling some residual anger from when Cheryl quit just a few short months ago. Your boss sighed, and slowly nodded.

"Yes. Well, yes and no. Joel really grilled him in that meeting this morning, it went a full hour. I did everything I could to take some of the heat, but Joel was just dialed in on Justin today, I don’t know what got into him. He had a million questions, one after another, and it eventually got to a point where he was outright questioning Justin’s job performance and skillset. It finally got to be too much for him, and Justin announced he was quitting.” Heather paused for a moment and looked around the room at the team. She turned and pulled Justin’s chair from his desk, moving the empty box to the floor. She sat down, looking as if she was exhausted from just recounting the events from the meeting. She rubbed her pointer and middle fingers against her temples for a moment, and then continued.

“Joel didn’t say anything wrong; this is his company, and he has every right to ask those questions… he just has such a harsh way of addressing things. It is a lot to handle. I managed to grab Justin at the elevators and took him back to my office for a while. I tried to convince him to stay but he just wouldn’t hear it, he had his mind made up. I’m sorry guys, I really tried. I know this will put a burden on some of you, I will do my best to fill the position as soon as I can.”

The keypad that operated the door started chiming, and in walked Mike from the mailroom. He had his head down, looking at the pile of mail in his cart, bopping along to the music feeding through his CD player and into his headphones, oblivious to the awkwardness in the room. He stopped at your desk like usual and dropped a big stack of envelopes in your inbox, gave you a quick smile, and turned to leave.

Heather quietly began filling the box with Justin’s personal effects, looking like she desperately needed a cigarette or a coffee break. Or both.

You exchanged a quick glance with Colleen, one that said ‘we are definitely going to talk more about this when she leaves’. Then you noticed the envelope at the very top of your mail pile: Sullivan Agency, LLC.

Your heart thudded in your chest. It was a strange feeling – your body was waging a war within you: relief vs fear. Relief that you didn’t have to pay Mr. Sullivan’s balance out of your paycheck, but fear that you would now have to go to Joel’s office as he requested and tell him about the check.

You shakily opened the envelope and sure enough, as promised, was a check for the full balance due on his account.

You stood up, feeling slightly lightheaded as you made your way over to Heather. She jumped slightly when you quietly said her name.

"I just got the check from Mr. Sullivan. What should I do? Should I just email Joel and tell him it came, or do we really have to go to his office?”

You prayed she would tell you to just email him, but unfortunately, she said “We should tell him in person, I don’t want to make him even more mad.” She stopped organizing Justin’s picture frames and buried her face in her hands for a moment, trying to collect herself. She raised her head up, clasped her hands in front of her mouth in thought, then turned in the chair towards you.

“I really hate to ask you this… do you mind going up to his office by yourself? He’s had enough of me today, and quite frankly I’ve had enough of him, too. He seemed to take a liking to you, it won’t be that bad, it'll be quick.”

She looked at you hopefully, desperately, eyes begging, but followed up with “If you are really uncomfortable, I can go with you, it’s just...” her gaze drifted back to Justin’s desk, and the enormity of just how much work this put on her plate was likely hitting home. Updating a job description, meeting with HR, creating the job posting, screening applicants… the list went on.

You shook your head, always the people pleaser you said, “I got it, don’t worry, I will go up there right now and just get it over with."

You gave her a small smile as relief flooded her face. Heather asked if you were sure, and you promised her you were. Before your resolve broke, you turned on your heel and left, heading towards the elevator. 

The moment the elevator opened and you stepped out onto the 10th floor, your heart lept into your throat. The nerves were finally catching up with you. You looked up and saw a small desk situated between two closed doors. Behind the desk sat a kindly looking older woman. She had hair so grey that it looked almost blue, and it was woven on top of her head into a conical shape. She looked up at you through her plastic pink framed glasses, which were adorned with a chain that wrapped around the back of her neck so she wouldn’t lose them. She smiled at you warmly, her bright pink lipstick somewhat smudged on her front tooth and beckoned you over. Your eyes flicked to her name plate - Ruby Potter - as you returned her smile and walked over.

“Hi there, dear, who are you here to see?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Miller," you said without thinking. Ruby chuckled.

"Dear, they are both ‘Mr. Miller’. Which one?”

"J-Joel, I’m here to see Joel. I have a check for him," you stuttered, your cheeks warming from embarrassment.

She picked up her phone and punched one of the buttons on her speed dial, lazily lifting the headset to her ear.

"You have an accountant here to see you,” she said. She had forgotten to ask your name. You tried to mouth it to her, but she waved you away, as if she did this all the time. You couldn’t hear the words on the other end of the phone, but you could hear the tone – it was sharp and aggravated. Ruby seemed unphased. Once the other end of the line went silent, Ruby said “So do you want me to send her in, or not?” She nodded with whatever Joel said in response and hung up the phone.

“Go right on in, dear. His office is that one.” She languidly pointed to her right, your left, and then turned her attention back to her computer. You took a moment to appreciate the elderly woman’s ease. She clearly dealt with Joel’s wrath countless times, yet she was completely collected. In fact, she sat before you, well past her retirement years, working directly for the man himself without a care in the world.

That gave you a small confidence boost. If Ruby could handle Joel, so could you. Afterall, it’s just words. You had a job to do, you did nothing wrong, you are here because he requested it. 

You approached Joel’s office door and gently gave it three quiet knocks. You waited until you heard his acknowledgement to enter. You twisted the doorknob, opened the door just enough so you could squeeze through, and shut it behind you.

Shit, maybe you should have left it cracked. Too late now.

Your eyes locked onto the back of his tall, broad frame as he stood facing away from you, one of his arms resting above his head against the window. He was overlooking the city through the floor length windows as he finished up a call on his cell phone.

You had no idea what he said on the phone, you were far more distracted with how large and strong his shoulders looked in his white button-down shirt. Your gaze slowly traveled down, taking in his dark grey dress pants and noticing how generously they hugged his backside. You only wished he had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows like before - you wanted to see his muscles twitching under that tanned skin again. You watched in a daze as he lifted his arm from the window and ran his long fingers through his dark curls, wrapping up the phone call.

Get it together, what is wrong with you??

He pushed a button on his cell and began speaking without even turning around.

"What do you need now? I already told you-“ Joel swiveled around to see you standing before him, eyes wide, nervously clutching the envelope in your hands from Mr. Sullivan. He stopped short when he realized you weren’t Heather, and his expression softened a fraction. You must have surprised him, because before he could catch himself, he was raking his eyes up and down your entire frame, sending a shiver up the back of your spine. You were grateful you happened to wear your most flattering light blue sundress today. You thought this morning when you put it on that it would give you the confidence to get through seeing Justin at work for the first time since your break up. You never thought you would need that confidence for this moment.

You meekly cleared your throat.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Miller. You wanted me to tell you when Mr. Sullivan’s check came…” you trailed off, your cheeks feeling warm under his intense gaze. You needed to look somewhere else. You glanced down at the now crumpled envelope in your hand and stretched out your arm to eagerly show him your prize. You were at least 10 feet away from him, barely inside his office at all. It looked ridiculous; he obviously couldn’t take it from you at this range.

He nodded, pursing his lips, and then showed mercy on you when he finally looked away to take the few short strides back to his desk chair. He sat down, glancing back up at you expectantly from across the room.

"Sit.” he ordered, motioning towards one of the two chairs placed in front of his desk.

You responded to his command quickly, and you thought you saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it disappeared too fast for you to be sure.  You sat down in one of the chairs, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you waited while he scrolled through his emails, looking bored. Looking down at the envelope in your hands, you gently fingered the edges in order to focus your energy somewhere. Why did he want you to sit? This should have been a quick conversation.

Joel cleared his throat, and keeping his eyes on the computer monitor, he began to unbutton the cuffs of his dress shirt. First the left sleeve, then the right, taking his time. He began to methodically roll his left sleeve up, up, up all the way to his elbow, before he leisurely did the same to the right sleeve. You didn’t realize your eyes had snapped up when you saw him begin to uncuff his sleeves, so by the time he finished, you had barely blinked and your lips were slightly parted, breath ever so slightly quickening as he finished his task. You didn’t notice your reaction, but out of the corner of his eye, Joel certainly did. He fought to contain the confident smirk that threatened to spill across his face.

He was right, you had been checking him out in that meeting.

“Give it to me,” he said, turning his probing gaze towards you once again. You looked into his dark, beautiful eyes for a moment, not sure what he meant. Then it came to you. The check.

Wordlessly, you outstretched your hand once again to hand him the envelope. Without breaking eye contact, Joel reached out and took the envelope from your grasp, but in the process grazed two long fingers gently against the back of your hand, sending sparks through your entire body at the contact.  You gasped softly, and clamped your mouth shut. You dropped your gaze, embarrassed, while you waited for him to open the envelope and hopefully dismiss you. The tension was too intense, you needed this to end.

Joel didn’t seem to mind the tension in the room, or even notice it for that matter. He slowly opened the envelope and pulled out the check within. He took note of the amount as a small yellow post-it fell out. You hadn’t seen that before in your rush to get up to his office, you had no idea what it said.

Joel picked it up and read it thoughtfully to himself. When he didn’t say anything after a minute, you finally spoke.

"What does it say?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

He swallowed before bringing his heated gaze back up to you.

"It says: Thank you for showing me such kindness during my time of need. I’m sorry for the late payment. It won’t happen again.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap, a small smile threatening to tug at your lips.

“You were right this time, but don’t be naïve. Not everyone is always tellin’ you the truth,” he warned, sliding the check and post-it note back into the envelope. You nodded in agreement, still sheepishly looking down at your hands.

Joel gazed at the top of your head as you stared at your lap. He didn't want the conversation to end.

"You’re doin’ a good job," he told you, pausing to reflect for a moment. "Thank you for making that connection with my client. I’m not good at all that. Talkin’ about their personal stuff. That’s more Tommy’s side of things.” He reached across his desk and held out the envelope for you to take back.

You looked up at his outstretched hand, and careful to avoid touching him again, took it. 

"Thank you, Mr. Miller,” you replied softly, and stood up from your seat.

You gave Joel a quick smile and turned to head towards the door. Halfway to the exit, you stopped and turned back around, finding Joel’s eyes had yet to leave your body.

“I bet you would be good at it," you said, then your eyes widened as you realized how that sounded. “I-I mean, talking to the clients, learning about them, their personal lives…” you rambled as heat spread across your cheeks.

He stared at you for an awkward moment, considering your words.

“Well, I should be getting back to work,” you said, hitching your thumb to the door behind you, but before you could turn away, Joel stopped you.

"Thanks, sweetheart, maybe I’ll try it sometime,” he said, his expression softer.

You nodded and forced yourself to look away from the uncharacteristically relaxed features on his face. You turned to leave the room, but the door suddenly swung open. You nearly lost your balance, but a strong arm shot out to catch you.

“Jesus, Tommy, would ya watch it?” Joel growled from behind his desk, his expression leaving no traces of the softness you had just witnessed.

“Sorry darlin’, didn’t know my brother had anyone in here.” Tommy eyed you up appreciatively and grinned. “I don’t believe we formally met, I’m Tommy,” he stuck out his hand, which you quickly shook and gave him a polite smile, telling him your name.

You hastily made your exit, squeaking out an excuse about work, and shut the door.

“Do ya ever knock?” Joel seethed, but Tommy was too busy staring at the closed door, still thinking about the way your ass looked in your blue dress.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” Tommy said, ignoring his question, and strolled over to a small cluster of framed pictures on the wall that haven’t been updated since they started the business. He leaned in to examine them more closely. “You need to be gettin’ back out there. I won't even give you any shit for dippin’ your pen in the company ink, like you did to me.”

“The hell you on about?” Joel replied, taking the opportunity to adjust himself under his desk while Tommy’s back was still turned. The way you were blushing and squirming in his office had a bigger effect on him than he thought. And you hadn’t even been trying. Not like him, rolling up his sleeves on purpose to see your reaction. He shuddered to think what it would be like if you actually tried to seduce him. He would be a puddle on the floor.

“Nothin’ was goin’ on, she just brought me a check.” Joel stood and walked around the front of his desk, leaning up against the edge of it, arms crossed and surveying the back of Tommy’s head.

Tommy chuckled, still examining the photos.

“Yeah, right. She was blushin’ like a whore in church when she left. Ya know, you should really get some new pictures in here. Did ya know you still got this old picture of the bunch of us at that rodeo? It’s got Amy in it.”

Joel sucked in air through his clenched teeth, the rest of his hard on instantly disappearing at the mention of her name.

“Sorry, Joel. It’s been so long, we still ain’t allowed to talk about it?” Tommy walked over behind Joel’s desk and flopped down in his chair, which made Joel have to turn around and sit in the same chair you had just occupied moments before.

“What’s there left to talk about?” Joel sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Do you still talk to her? Keep in touch?” Tommy asked, fiddling with a pen on the desk.

“No.” Joel responded harshly. “Why would I? Last I heard, she’s been shacked up with that prick somewhere in the Midwest.”

“It’s been five years, and I still haven’t seen ya go out on a date, coffee, nothin’. Why are you doin’ this to yourself?”

Joel shook his head and stood up, already missing the warmth your body left in the chair.

“I’m just busy, Tommy. Haven’t met anyone worth chasin’," he replied, grabbing a pen and pad of paper from his desk.

“Well, that little lady that just left is well worth chasin’, if you ask me.” Tommy stood up too, and joined Joel as they headed out of the office to the conference room for their next meeting.

“Nobody was askin’, just drop it.” Joel couldn’t have Tommy egging him on, it was already difficult enough to keep his mind off you.

Joel hardly heard a word all throughout their meeting with the Marketing department. He vaguely remembered the head of the department nervously working through a technical error on his presentation, which made IT have to get involved. But Joel barely noticed. All he could think about was you.

You: in that thin, blue dress. He remembered how your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and how you bit down on your lower lip when you tried to hold back a smile. He thought about how soft your skin felt when he gently grazed it with his fingers. How your knees pressed together as you squirmed in your seat, waiting for him to turn his attention to you. But you had no idea that his attention was always on you, even when you weren’t around. It was all consuming, at times overwhelming, the way he constantly recalled images of you in his mind. 

Joel was relieved when the IT department could not fix the technical error, and the meeting had to be rescheduled. Everyone in the room held their breath, Tommy included, for Joel’s inevitable outburst, but surprisingly none came.

“Check with Ruby and put it on my schedule,” Joel said, collecting his things and leaving the room.

Tommy stayed behind to chat with the head of Marketing while Joel made a beeline for his office. He shut the door quickly behind him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned his head back on the door.

What was going on with him? Why couldn’t he get you out of his head?

This was Tommy’s fault, had to be. He kept bringing you up and forcing these thoughts into his head.

But it wasn’t Tommy’s fault when his cock jumped after he touched your hand and heard you gasp.

Fuck. This had to stop. He rubbed his hands over his face roughly, then something Tommy said came back to him. It had been a long time since he was with Amy. Tommy was right, he hadn’t been on any dates, he was just sexually frustrated. It was building up, and he needed a release. That would clear his head.

Joel turned and headed towards his private bathroom, which was just a small pocket door in the wall, hardly visible when you first walked in. He went in and locked the door behind him. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, already throbbing from the past hour of torture his thoughts have led him on.

Joel gripped the base firmly in his fist, and he squeezed his eyes shut, dreaming of you wearing that dress in his office. This time, when you squeezed your knees together, he imagined you were trying to create some friction to relieve the wet heat between your legs. You were just as turned on as he was in his fantasy. Joel lazily ran his hand up and down his cock, as his imagination kept carrying him away.

He wondered what kind of panties you were wearing under that dress. Maybe they were lace, or a thong. Maybe you weren’t wearing any at all. There we go.

He started running his hand up and down his shaft faster, his breath quickening as his fantasy took hold.

Now he was bunching your dress up around your hips, hitching your leg around his waist as he grabbed onto the back of your neck, bringing you closer so he could suck on the pulse point in your throat, making you moan his name. He pushed you on top of his desk, and you let yourself fall backwards, recklessly shoving papers and files off his desk.

He could feel his release bubbling to the surface now, as his movements became more frantic, and his other hand grasped the towel bar next to the sink for leverage.

Now Joel saw you bouncing on his cock, still wearing that pretty little dress, but your tits were spilled over the top. He pulled one nipple into his mouth, making you cry out and bounce faster, while his fingers brushed gently against the other one. You grabbed the sides of his face and dragged his mouth up to yours, hovering over each other’s mouths, gasping, but still not touching, as you bounced faster, faster, faster… 

Joel groaned and desperately reached out to grab a tissue from the box next to the sink, right in time to catch his thick ropes of come. His hips gently thrusted forward as he came down from his high, breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut.

He opened his eyes as his breathing returned to normal, glancing around the room to steady himself.  He looked down, grateful he didn’t make a mess on his dress pants. He cleaned himself up, flushed the tissue down the toilet, tucked himself back into his pants and went to wash his hands.

He cupped some water from the sink and rinsed his face. Drying himself with the towel, he looked up at the mirror and saw a dirty, old man, who had just jerked off to the thoughts of a much younger employee. The shame was setting in now.

I hope you enjoyed it, you dirty fuck. She would never give you the real thing.

Joel dried his hands, and left the bathroom, feeling guilty, but couldn’t deny he had a much clearer head.

He didn’t see you for at least a full week. That whole week, he felt like himself again. He could see clearly; his thoughts weren’t all jumbled up and he was back to barking orders to his teams on jobsites.

He just needed to jerk off. That’s all it was. No big deal.

Early one morning before most of the employees started their work day, he made his way down to Heather’s office on the 6th floor. She had left him a voicemail saying that the company was being audited, and she needed to speak with him right away. This would require a lot of work from her department, and she needed him to approve the overtime, especially since he scared off your pretty little boyfriend, the department remained shorthanded. He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved in his pockets, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It was quickly becoming his new look, just in case he ran into you.

He turned the corner towards Heather’s office but stopped short when he heard you laughing. He peered around a corner and saw you with some co-workers in the break room.

He was frozen to the ground, taking in your beautiful smile and laugh as you tried not to spill the coffee in your hand. You were wearing a knee-length flowy black skirt, with a V-neck light purple blouse. When you bent over to laugh again, he saw a glimpse of your tits bouncing under your shirt. He held his breath for a moment, trying to will himself forward, when you suddenly looked over and met his gaze. 

Your friends didn’t notice him standing there, and you didn’t say anything. You just ran your eyes up and down his body, pausing on his exposed forearms. You gave him a shy smile and a little wave. Before he realized it, he was slowly lifting his hand up in return.

He was fucked.

Chapter Four

[aestas666]

The Interview [K. Hammett]

pairings: kirk hammett/female! reader

warning/s: smut, inappropriate language. MINORS DNI

-request via message of the reader interviewing kirk! (REQUESTS OPEN)

5:00 AM

That’s what the clock read as I blinked my eyes groggily. My body was still numb from sleep. The hours rushed by so fast it was as if I never slept.

“God, I have an interview.”  I thought as I rose from the soft duvet and headed toward the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I glanced at my apartment windows noticing the still dark sky. As the coffee maker softly hummed in the background, I pulled out my papers to look back into the history of the band I would interview later on.

METALLICA

That’s what was written as the headliner of the article I was reading in huge bold text.

Hopping into the shower I was rehearsing my questions, I had none prepared. That was the point of our brand. We intend to make things come up naturally and we invest on making sure we knew who we were talking to flat out.

“Should I look up a photo of them?” ... Shaking my head, I thought an element of surprise would be good.

After the shower I hurriedly rushed to my closet. “Should I dress in black? I mean- they’re a metal band. Am I supposed to look the part?” All these questions rushed in. I really should have prepared more the day before. I pulled out some black button long sleeves and some denim shorts with a black studded belt.

Downing the coffee in one go, I grabbed the keys of my car and rushed to the venue. It was in some room of the arena they were performing in. Call time was at 7:00 and it’s already 6:48.

Parking was easy, the lot was huge. I found myself running to the arena and into a hallway. Stopping at a door with 1507 written at the front.

I took a deep breath in and entered. The crew was in already. 2 guys named Michael and Jim. 

As soon as I walked in Jim (the cameraman) hit record. 

Only one guy was sitting on the chair, I looked back at Michael in confusion as he just nodded at me to go on. 

“Oh, um hi-” I extended my hand over the table as I took a seat down in front of him.

“Kirk. Kirk Hammett. Yeah, it’s just me, the guys are still sleeping.” He laughed softly as he shook my hand.

“Yeah sure, that’ll be fine. We could start the one-on-one interview now if you’d like?”

“Oh for sure yeah, you guys are the Ride or Die people, right? How does this work?” He looked at me with intent as I waved off Jim to stop filming.

“Yup that’s us. Basically, we ask general questions. Some fan questions that could get a liiitle too personal can come up and you have to answer honestly. That’s our whole gig.” He nodded, his mouth making a small “o”. 

“This’ll be interesting for sure. Never expected a cute girl from a name like Ride or Die actually.” His comment made me heat up; I mean. This man was gorgeous, he had such nice curls and an adorable smile. There was so much I wanted to-

“Hey. Are we starting?” Jim interrupted my thoughts as Kirk looked back at me, amused.

“Ah yeah- sorry. Start rolling.” He hit the record button as I once again extended my hand to the guitarist.

“(Y/N)”

“Pretty name, I’m uh. Kirk.” He grinned at the camera almost awkwardly.

“Renowned guitarist of Metallica. Wow it truly is an honor. How are you doing today, Kirk?”

“Haven’t had breakfast, the boys are sleeping, it’s 7:00 AM. I’m pretty good.” We both shared a laugh as we finished up some questions on the album, the band’s touring and his thoughts on the city.

“Now for the fun part. Fan questions. I’ve gathered some questions they are dying to know.” I enunciated the ‘dying’, watching him suddenly turn to stifle a small laugh.

“I’m kinda scared to be honest. They could get a little crazy.”

“You’ll be fine! This one is from Kacey, and she wants to know what your type in groupies are.” I cocked a brow at his furrowed ones.

“Wow. This one’ll need some deep thought.” He looked up as if he was reflecting. 

“Probably someone like her.” He nodded at me as I held my chest in pretend shock.

“I look like a groupie?” 

“You’d look good as one.” It was Michael's turn to chuckle as the camera whipped to him and I shot him a look.

“Who was the last person you had in bed?” I continued.

“Jesus. At least get me some breakfast first, wow.” He rubbed his face in embarrassment as he went on “Come with me and it could be you.” 

“God I would.” 

“What was that?” He shot me a look as if in shock.

“Huh?”

“You said you would. You’ve got some honesty there Ms. Interviewer.” He leaned in my direction as I mouthed a “cut that out” to Michael, who just rolled his eyes at me.

“This is the last question.” I stated as he clasped his hands together, awaiting.

“What place do you want to visit most?”

“Back to serious ones huh. Hawaii. It just looks so relaxing y’know.” 

“Well. Thanks Kirk. That’s all.” I glanced back at the 2 men who hurriedly sorted their gear back into place.

“Yeah, the rest of the band probably isn’t going to wake up any sooner.” Kirk called out to me as I rose from my seat to leave.

“Ah yeah that’s fine. I could come back some other time.” I put the notes I had back in my bag.

“I was serious by the way. I think you’re gorgeous.” My heart was suddenly pounding, I looked back to see both Jim and Michael gone. 

“Thanks, Kirk. You look goo..d” I mentally face palmed. I was dead nervous, and it was more than obvious.

“I don’t bite (Y/N). Come here.” He rose from the seat and approached me. He was taller, by some inches. He smelled like tobacco and a few hints of spearmint. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” I backed up toward a couch just at the end of the room.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you. Sit down.” He motioned toward the couch as he knelt on the ground. 

“Tell me. Do you want this?” 

Only a sicko wouldn’t want this. He was knelt before me and I just wanted to scream. “Yes please.” He grabbed my calves from the bottom as he softly trailed them on top of my knees. “Remove your shorts.” Quickly removing my belt, I looked away in embarrassment, I was still wearing my underwear and I was already flustered. Christ. “Pink panties? Thanks for dressing up for the interview I guess.” Kirk grinned, his fingers clasping at both sides and dragging the underwear down.

“Hey. I could stop anytime.” His brown eyes bore into mine as I shook my head with a clear no.

His rough hands caressed my thighs, opening my legs further. “You’re so wet already.” He dragged a finger down my slit and back up. Resting a hand on my stomach he licked a stripe and gave a coy smile at my flustered face. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was almost a whisper as the pounding in my ears increased. 

He stood up and leaned toward me to give a kiss, his lips were soft and wet and strangely tasted like mint. Grabbing my waist, he sat next to me and pulled me up to his lap as he continued to feather my neck with small kisses. 

I lifted my hips as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, he raised his hand to gather the slick from my cunt and pumped himself, his breath hitching.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.” I breathed out as he gently placed both his hands on my hips and lowered my body to his tip. “Fuck.” He moaned out, stretching me as I whined at the foreign feeling. My eyes squeezed shut while he whispered reassuring words, dragging his other hand on the back of my head and pulling me closer. 

“It’s alright sweet girl, move when you’re ready.”

I rested my head on his shoulder as I raised my hips up slightly and started moving at a slow pace. Gaining the courage as I got used to the pressure, he met my bounces with a hard thrust each time. I moved my head up to look at him. His hair stuck at the sweat of his forehead and his blown eyes focused on his cock pounding my cunt. 

He flipped me over and was now on top, still pounding, chasing his high. My legs were over his arms now as I gasped at the new position. Placing his thumb on my clit, he rubbed small circles, his jaw slack. My eyebrows furrow as I feel my orgasm rushing. “C’mon, baby.” He leaned to kiss me again, suppressing my soft moans. 

“Fuck, Kirk. I’m close.” My eyes started to tear up as his pace quickened. He’s hitting my sweet spot over and over as I choked a moan and felt my body tense and slacken at my release. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. I’m close, baby.” He rambled as he rammed into me, and I felt him fill me up after his thrusts.

He pulled out as I swallowed at the feeling of loss. He knelt in front of me between my legs and laid his head on my stomach, breathless.

“Wanna interview me again sometime?” He looked up with the same cheeky grin.

“I’ll think about it.”

[natashaslittlegirl]

Wattpad - SJ

Summary: You work with Scarlett, currently filming black widow movie sequel, she found something pretty interesting in your phone.

Scarlett Johansson ! Natasha x Reader

Smut, age gap (legal r), dirty talk, praise and degrading kink, roleplay, choking (s to r), spanking (s to r), slapping (s to r), strap on (r receiving), vibrator (r receiving), orgasm denial, squirting, overstimulation, begging, restrictions used, dumbification.

Words Count: 4100+

Wattpad Masterlist Scalett Johansson's Masterlist

.

You spend all day filming on the streets, one scene of you and Natasha riding the city on her motorcycle scaping from Antonia, Dreykov's daughter, she was still controlled by some widow, the antidote didn't effect her.

So all day hugging and touching Scarlett leave you a little frustrated, you two become inseparable since day one so Scarlett tend to be a little handsy with you, what she didn't know is that you have a crush on her.

Since very young age, you imagined all kind of things with her, reading wattpad since fourteen wasn't pretty good, but well, it gave you a lot of comfort since you never thought you could ever meet her.

and now, at twenty two you were working with her and being her friend, but you never left the habit of your wattpad lectures.

Pretty tired you went to your trailer to take a nap before going home, Scar had to film another scene so that give you time since she was taking you to your apartment, which was on her way  home.

You change your clothes into a comfy ones and lay in the bed you had there, you spent ten minutes looking at the ceiling because you couldn't sleep, you were frustrated from all day.

So, what's better than read one of your favorites fanfics about the women who left you like that. You grabbed your phone, opened Wattpad and searched for abditory in your library.

Choosing was not hard, you loved all the chapters so you just pick one about Natasha and began to read.

A few more chapters full smut you closed your eyes and fell asleep, dreaming on all of what you read minutes before.

Scarlett finished the scenes at perfection, going directly to your trailer to pick you up. She knocked twice but you didn't respond, luckily you gave her a spare key for her just in case.

She entered slowly at seeing you sleep so peacefully, she walked to you to wake you up, finding your phone unlocked with a huge text on it.

She almost freak out because two days ago you have a little crisis because of an article that said you shouldn't be in that movie, that you weren't good enough to act with her and that kind of bullshit.

So she grabbed it to read what was on the screen, just to found out the dirtiest words about her, widening her eyes and parting her lips to let out a gasp, she sat on the side on your bed, reading all you had read.

She was in shock, she never thought you could like her in that way, but knowing that, she planned something that had been on her mind since the day she met you.

"Baby, get up, we need to go." she closed the app and left the phone on your hand again to wake you up.

"No, I want to sleep." you groan with raspy voice, making her bit her lip.

"Come on, I have something waiting for you." you turned your head to slowly open your eyes to find her smiling at you.

"What, tell me." she caressed your cheek, resting her hand on your face.

"You have to see it, so let's go, baby," she stood up, offering her hand to you, which you take it happily.

You grabbed your bag with your things to go off the trailer, but Scar told you to wait for her in her car, giving you the keys as she went to look something in her trailer.

The artic momkeys were resounding in your ears, with your phone connected to the radio, singing and vibing with the rhythm, waiting for Scarlett.

She entered the car ten minutes later, starting to drive instantly, singing with you on the way, but you didn't realize she missed your apartment.

So inversed in the music you just come back to reality when she parks in fron of her house.

"Wait, what are we doing here?" she put her hand on your thigh, giving you a little squeeze.

"I told you I have something for you." she got out of the car, you did the same, following to the front door.

"Rose isn't here?" you asked her after hearing nothing but silence in the house.

"Nope, week with her father." she said as she walked to the kitchen, "You want something to drink, honey?" she shout from there.

"Beer please!" you sat on the couch, nervous and still frustrated, praying the alcohol blow it away.

She came with two bottles, sitting next to you as she placed the drinks on the coffee table, grabbing the control of the speaker to play some music, the playlist that we listened on our ride.

You took the bottle, the cold liquid soothing your throat, Scarlett mirrored you, taking a sip of her beer.

"So, what's that you need to show me?" she put her hand on your thigh again, leaning closer to you until your legs were touching.

"Let's drink this first." She knew you were nervous and she was too, but she masked it perfectly.

After a couple of songs and two empty bottles, Scarlett told you to go upstairs to her bedroom and wait for her, that she needed to show you a new clothe.

Obediently you went to her bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently to know what she had between hands. In the wait, your mind took you to your ride on the motorcycle with her today.

How you had to hug her to not fall, her hair brushing your nose, smelling the coconut on it, how hot she looked on Nat's clothes, the black jeans and the leather jacket, the white suit oh god, that was the best one.

You were so busy daydreaming that you didn't hear the footsteps in the stairs, just to find out Scarlett passing the door with her black widow suit, it was right to say that your jaw dropped.

She looked incredibly hot, the black suit looked so perfect on her hourglass body, with the zipper a little more down than the movie had your gaze glued to it.

She walked slowly towards you, leaning over with her hands on each of your knees for support, her face just centimeters apart than yours, making you gulp.

"What do you say?" her husky voice crashed you.

"I- I you, you look good." you babbled.

"Just good?" she smirked at you as she tilted her head.

"No! I mean, y-you look really good." you felt the heat on your cheeks.

"Mhm and here I thought you were gonna find me hot." she stood up again, walking to close the door.

You rubbed your thighs together, nervously because of her behavior.

"You know, you look so pretty when you're nervous," she was in front of you again, her eyes going darker as you met her lustful gaze.

"I.." you didn't even know what to say.

"Can you give me your phone for a moment?" she put her hand in front of you waiting, you grabbed your phone from your pocket and handled to her, "password."

"1984" you said.

"Mm, let's see, I need to look for," she was scrolling through the apps until her face light up orange and you knew you were screwed.

"What did you open?" your voice came out in a shaky tone.

"Oh, here it is," she said ignoring your question, "you know I've never thought you were the kind of person that's into this, but you prove me wrong."

You gulped hard, feeling your heart beating fast at every second that pass. You were about to get up but her hand stopped you, sitting you again on the bed.

"Uh uh, stay sit pretty on the bed." she kept scrolling until she found what she was looking for, "ha, here it is." you shut your eyes close, not knowing what is going to happen.

But the next you feel is tight grip on your neck, taking you by surprise stealing you a dry moan.

"Scar, what the fuck." you grabbed her wrist but she was stronger that you.

"Oh, now you don't like it?" she tilted her head.

"What do you mean?"

"If you read it, how can you not like it?" your eyes widened, trying to think in a possible way of how did she found out.

"I- I"

"Don't even try to excuse you, I read everything, baby, I know what you want now," her lips were hovering yours, her hot breath crashing you, "that's why I prepared all this for you, she looked down to her suit.

"Sorry." you closed your eyes again, unable to look at her.

"Don't be, this just helped me to realize," she lean over, leaving a wet kiss on your neck, "that you are just for me."

She helped you to stood on your feet, grabbing the hem of your tshirt to take it off, leaving you in a lace bra that didn't last to much long, since she unclipped skillfully with one hand and threw it away.

You couldn't even move, you were too focus on not pass out right there.

Scarlett kneel in front of you, grabbing your pants, running her hands on your thighs while taking it off, leaving you just in lace black pantie.

"So beautiful." she whispered before leave a kiss on your lower abdomen.

"Scar, what are you doing"

"Nothing you didn't read, sweetheart." she got up, sitting you again on the bed, pushing you to the mattress until you were all lay on her bed.

"Aren't you mad?" she crawled on top of you, on of her legs between yours, her hands each side of your head.

"Quite opposite, I've waiting to have you since the day I met you," she began to kiss your neck, "touch you, kiss you, make you feel good." you gasped at her words.

You squirm under her as she suck on your pulse point, little whimpers leaving your lips. Scarlett pressed her knee to your cunt.

"So wet already," the kisses went up, tracing your jaw to your earlobe "I didn't even touch you"

"Please," you begged her.

"I know what do you need, baby." her hand trace your body, running over the inside of your thigh, nails scrapping your skin, burning you at the touch.

"Please, Scar,"

"Uh uh, you're not gonna call me that," she smirked again and that's when you understood why she was wearing the suit.

"You want me to call y-you Nat?" you whispered fearing that was not that.

"Mhm, weren't you reading a Nat smut today?"

you nodded slowly, you must have fallen sleep with your phone unlocked, regretting it but at the same time no.

"Do you remember what happened in the chapter?" you nodded again, "Good, because I do too." she grabbed your hands to put them on top of your head, "leave them there or I'll have to punish you." you let out a moan, knowing in the chapter you did get a punishment.

"Oh god." you breath out as she began to run her tongue from your neck to your breast.

"No noises." she suck your already hard nipple while squeezing and pinching the other one, trying your best to keep quiet, but when she bitted it you couldn't help but groan.

She let it passed and kept sucking on your breast until your hand went down to her hair, pushing her closer, she quickly grabbed your writs and manhandle you to lay on your stomach.

"Fuck,"

"What did I say to you?" her hand crashed to your ass, making you whimper, "looks like you want punishment after all." you didn't respond and another spank resound on the room.

Her hand was tracing over your ass while the other kept your wrist over your head. Pleasure runs through your body, the pain deliciously traveling like a wave of wetness to your cunt.

"You're so perfect, do you like this too much, don't you?" you nodded, groaning at the sore sensation of the spank, "such a perfect little slut for me, letting me spank you as you deserve." Scarlett husks as her hand crash again to your ass.

The knot on your stomach already forming, your thighs rubbing themselves in look for some friction. You turned your head to look at her, your arousal growing just from seeing her with her suit.

"Like what you see, detka?" her character's accent resound in your ears, gasping at her words.

"Yes," you breath out.

"Yes, what?" she spanked you again.

"Yes, I do," you knew what she wanted to hear but you didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

"Don't make me let your ass covered in bruises, detka." she let go your wrist to grab your neck, making pressure almost cutting the air.

"Yes, Nat." you moaned dryly, feeling so good to say it.

"Good girl." you moved your hips, but she quickly put you back in place by her palm slapping your cheek. "mhm not that good." 

Tears off pleasure forming on the corner of your eyes. She let go her grip, hooking her fingers on each side of your panties, taking them down your legs, goosebumps appearing on your skin at her touch.

"God, you're dripping, I wish you could see yourself." she was caressing your sore cheeks "bare ass spanked red with my hand prints, so pretty."

"Please, do something," you cried out, bouncing your ass to her.

"You took it so good, I think you deserve a reward, don't you, baby?" you nodded eagerly.

She kneeled you with your back to the headboard, mirroring and kneeling in front of you, one of her hands went to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

Moaning in it, her tongue was inside on your mouth, kissing you roughly she swallows your moans.

Her other hand was running over your body, place it now on your inner tighs, you spread your legs wide feeling the smirk on her face.

Breaking the kiss because of the lack of air you couldn't resist but pulling her again to you, claiming her lips again in a passionate kiss.

Her index finger run the lenght of your dripping core, making you shiver as she gathered your wetness, to then rub your clit with low pressure, your hips bucking down.

Suddenly two fingers were inside you, thrusting hard into you.

"You like that?" Scarlett whispered, the rasp on her voice made you shiver.

"Fuck, yes." you were rolling your hips against her hand, the moans scaping your lips becoming louder.

The heat on your lower abdomen was becoming unbearable, the knot pressing on each thrust as she curled her fingers inside, touching all your weak spots.

"That's it, detka, keep moving," your clit was rubbing with the palm of her hand, her lips went to lick your neck, leaving marks on it.

"I'm gonna cum N-" you doubt for a second, but after a hard thrust you cried out her name, "Fuck Nat."

"Cum for me," A loud moan tempted to scape but her lips crashed yours, muffling every sound that rolled out your tongue, "the first one."

She helped you lay down on the bed, tying your hands with, you don't know with what, to the headboard, leaving then on the top of your head.

Scarlett lean over to her nightstand, and from your position you couldn't see what she took out, but a buzzing resound in your ears, knowing what it was going to happen.

Slow vibrations pressed your clit, making you rock your hips back to it, cursing at the sensstion, the vibrator running between your folds to stop again on your clit.

"Such a greedy pussy you have, huh" Scarlett was smirking at you, looking how desperate for her touch you were, trying to get more friction as you kept rocking your hips down.

"More, please," you breath out, she up the speed two times, making you squeeze your thighs trapping her hand between them.

"Spread your legs, I want you wide open for me, detka." you did as she told you, spreading your legs as much as you could.

The warm feeling on your stomach appeared again, more intense this time. Little tears rolled down your cheeks, feeling overwhelmed by the vibrations.

"I know you're close," you didn't notice that you were moaning loudly.

"Please, let me," she nodded at you, cumming with your eyes shut and bitting your lip, trying to keep the moans back in your throat.

"Two," the vibrator buzzed turned off, leaving it to your side as you still were trying to recover, panting for air, "such a good girl."

Scarlett lean over to kiss you softly, you shudder at the feeling of her finger brushing your inner thighs, making your best to not squeeze them.

You lazily responded to the kiss, but quickly keep her pace.

"Stay here, detka, don't move while I'm away." you hum as you see her get up and go to the bathroom. Sounds of her searching came frome there, you tried to take a look but again, because of your position you couldn't see anything. "close your eyes,"

You sigh annoyed but still obey her, closing your eyes hearing the footsteps closer, your body tense in anticipation, feeling a weight to your feet as she crawled over you.

"Open." she mumble, you gasp as your eyes widen, your eyes falling to the red strap attached to her hips, still on her suit you felt a wave of wetness rush you.

"Fuck," you breath out, your gaze goes again to her face, her lustful eyes running your naked body.

Scarlett leans over you, spreading your legs apart with hers, giving you a wet kiss you gasp as the toy touches your clit, not able to kiss her anymore.

She leans back a little, moving her hips to the toy to rub on your core. Smirking and looking every reaction of yours you groan in annoyance.

"Stop teasing," her hand grabs your neck again, moaning at the tight grip.

"Look at me," you met her eyes, dark green blown pupils, shiny with lust and desire "good girl, keep them open, I want to see you when I fuck you."

Her other hand went to the base of the toy, passing it between your folds, soaking it with your wetness to then push slowly inside you.

You gasp at the new sensation, trying your bes to maintaining eye contact with her, your jaw tighten as she thrust the entire length. Smirking at the expressions of your face she takes out almost all of the toy to push again harder.

"Fuck, Nat," your hands went into fists, grabbing the pillow behind your head.

She began to build her pace, fast and hard, making you closed your thighs to her body, feeling the end of the toy rubbing your clit.

"You have no idea how many times I thought of fucking you like this," you closed your eyes shut, but a slap on your face bring you back to reality "I said look at me."

Her husky voice dripping authority as much as you were dripping onto her sheets.

The toy stretching you perfectly as your walls clenched around it, whimpers and little moans rolling out your tongue.

"Fuck, you look so fucking good, detka," your mind was going fuzzy, so overwhelmed, you couldn't even think straight, each thrust bringing you closer to your orgasm.

"Please, please," you whiper at her, your wrists sore because of how much you were pulling your hands.

"Beg for it," she began to push harder inside you, your slick resounding on each thrust.

"Please, let me cum, Nat, please!" the last drop of dignity leaving your body as you begged her.

You couldn't hold it anymore, the heat was burning you from inside, crying again at the pleasure, Scarlett lean over to your ear, sucking on your earlobe to whisper.

"Cum all over my strap, make a mess on it." you couldn't resist anymore, exploding in a hard orgasm, wave of wetness coming out, squirting and soaking the toy.

She didn't pull it out, she untied your wrists with one hand to lift you up with toy still inside. Her arms behind your thighs as she pressed your back to the wall.

Not even a few seconds to rest, she began to thrust you again, the toy going deeper in you this time. You had to wrap your arms behind her neck to support, digging your nails on her hair, hearing her groan.

The wetness of your cum make it easier to move inside you, pounding harder and faster making you a moaning mess.

Your head fell back, hitting the wall, "N.. pl-"

"Such a pathetic little girl, can't even talk properly while I'm fucking you." she chucked at you.

"please" that's the only word that came out of your mouth, following by loud moans.

"You want to cum, slut?" she managed to grab your neck, pressing your whole body to the wall, impressed by her strength.

You nodded faster, her finger pressing the sides of your neck cutting off the air, she lean her face to bite your lip, salty taste of your tears.

Suddenly she pulled it out of you, throwing you to the bed, your body pressed flat onto the mattress as she grabbed your hips, lifting your ass on the air quickly pounding into you again.

Your walls clenching around the strap each thrust, on of her hands went to your head, tugging your hair in a ponytail lifting you up.

She close her face to your side, sucking your neck and groaning at your skin.

"Sluts don't get to cum." she throw your head back to the sheets, leaning back to spank you.

"Fuck, please! I can't anymore!" you cried out, feeling so overwhelmed.

Another spank crashed on your skin, a rough moan from the back of your throat.

"Isn't it that what you wanted, mhm, is all in that chapter." the sound of your bodies crashing at each thrust echoing in the room.

"Yes, but-" her hand slapped you again.

"No buts, you'll take what I give you or I'll stop." you buried your face to the sheets, couldn't forming a proper thought.

Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, your hands into fists digging your nails on your palms, your back arching as you rock your hips back to her.

You were so overwhelmed but wanted more, you didn't understand why but you needed more.

"More!" that's the only you could think at this point.

"Such a needy slut you are, Y/N," she down her hand  to your front, stopping between your legs to rub your clit.

"Oh fuck!" it was hard to breath now, the feeling of passing out as the pressure on your lower abdomen can't be hold anymore, "Please, Nat, please!"

"Cum, baby." you couldn't resist anymore, cumming and squirting all her suit, moaning loudly as your orgasm washed you over, "god, you're so pretty when you cum." she praised you.

Scarlett helped you to ride your high, pounding slowly inside you until you couldn't take it anymore, pulling out of you, feeling empty without her toy inside.

You rolled over, laying on your back, your legs still shaking, your eyes close shut, lips parted trying to catch your breath.

You felt a pair of hands on your hips, pulling you over the edge of the bed, lazily you lift your head just to see Scarlett kneeled in fron of you, her face coming closer to your dripping cunt.

Her warm tongue swirl on your sensitive clit, licking you clean, running through your folds, gathering alm your cum.

"You taste so good, detka," she purred on your cunt, sending vibrations through your whole body, your next orgasm already building up.

Your hands went directly to her hair, pulling her closer, making her nose rub to your clit.

"Oh fuck, I'm so close." you bite your lip, tryin to muffle your moans, falling incredibly as Scarlett thrust her tongue inside you.

It took just a few more licks for you to cum, squeezing your thighs around her head, feeling her groan.

Your legs fell to the sides as she stood up, laying on your side, watching how you slowly recover from the last orgasm.

You turned your head to look at her, whipping the wetness from her lip with your thumb, smiling at her soft gaze.

"You liked it?" she lift her hand to caressed your cheek softly.

"So much, but now I want Scarlett." she smirked at you, giggling at your words.

"First some rest, baby."

[beerok23]

Runaway Groom AU - Chapter 16

With the compliments of my beta @somewhere-in-wales

Excerpt from Chapter 16 - The Interview

It was mid-December and Crowley was reading the final draft of his manuscript. Even if he hadn’t properly finished (it still needed a huge amount of editing), he’d never been so proud of himself. On that memorable night, Crowley told Comma that he ‘would never forgive Aziraphale, never in 6000 years’; five minutes later, he wrote a very contradictory dedication at the beginning of the book. Crowley was still struggling with such an idiotic decision (seriously, what kind of masochist would come up with a dedication like that?), when he received a voice message from Beez. It had been a while. Back in October, after Crowley had informed his friend that he was fine but he needed time to himself to heal and forget (read: forgive), Beez had given up on contacting him again. Later, he hadn’t specified that he was writing a book. Apparently, tonight they had decided to interrupt radio silence and try again. It wasn’t that long, but Crowley’s blood ran cold nonetheless when he listened to it. “Hey, arse. How you doin’? Listen, I don’t know if you still read The guardian. Shit, it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t anymore...Anyway, Hastur wants me to cover for you with Rainbow Thoughts, and I’m trying to keep up the good work. Not your shitty articles of the last few years, mind, but…you know.” Crowley knew. And he couldn’t have left his column in better hands. He was glad that Beez was the designated writer to carry it on. “Well, that’s not why I’m sending you this. I’m calling in a favour. I really need your opinion on my first piece, it comes out tomorrow. I have a pdf proof copy, and I really want you to read it. If it’s not too weird, you know, with you being jobless and everything.” Crowley chuckled and reacted to the voice message with a thumb up emoji. A few minutes later, Beez sent him the pdf file of the following day's newspaper. The former columnist couldn’t imagine that a simple 4.580 Mb file would shake his whole world.

[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

TAG LIST

@firephoenix2305 @on1occasionfork @moralsofanalleycatsposts @captainblou @bellisima-writes @shadesofecclescakes

With the ineffable trailer created by @ineffablerainstorm and the support of my second beta @pookasluagh 💛🧡

[paperback-rascal]

Hi 👉👈

I love your "Kix the cf99 medic" and it made me think about writing a fic about Wrecker going to a casual medical checkup and the medic/doctor/Kix almost has an aneurysm because of how many untreated injuries he has that healed on their own, BUT

I don't have a lot of medical knowledge, so do you have any suggestions of what stuff could be wrong with him besides crudely healed bone breaks, almost ripped tendons or badly scarred/burned stiff skin?

First of all - I hope you're going to tag me once that fanfiction it's done! You have no idea how I crave The Bad Batch and Kix artworks/stories! It is a void!

Second of all - I'm not a medical professional nor I'm in any shape or form related by no means with medicine/medical science. My whole "medical knowledge" is bunch of Wikipedia articles, one book about plagues (that I still didn't finish) and one civil defense course book from my high school days... and maybe couple of youtube videos.

With that in mind... (rest of the answer is under the cut/read more)

I don't mind all of the "crudely healed bone breaks", "almost ripped tendons" and "badly burned flesh" stories. I know they seem like obvious, tried-and-true formulas but I can't say 'no' to a well written, entertaining story - it's almost the same feeling like drinking a good cup of coffee - it never gets old! So if you (or anyone, really) feel the premise is not good enough... well, it is good as any other starting point!

However if you ask me what would I consider an interesting approach to a scenario in which "a routine check-up goes wrong", I think that the most 'oomph!' would be a domino effect - starting with a minor complain that later turns out to be a symptom of a multi-layered issue of one neglected thing after the other that wasn't done properly the first time/was overlooked - because let's face it - that how most medical emergencies starts and it is now getting fixed because someone (either a patient or a health professional) just pressed further to find the root cause. With The Bad Batch it could be especially interesting since they most likely have to fend for themselves during/right after missions so a lot of shortcuts and misinterpretation of data could be part of the issue.

Positioning Kix as "outsider looking in" could also be interesting starting point - Is he a stubborn medic going against the grain despite Clone Force 99/other medics telling him "that's how it always has been" or because he is an "outsider' (and most likely took the SW!equivalent of Hippocratic Oath?) so The Bad Batch feel more comfortable to confide to him their issues?

Also we all assume the issues have to be... grand in nature but a LOT of them that later wreak havoc starts small - an untreated ear infection, bad/rotten tooth, crooked/uneven nasal septum, allergies, etc. in the Batch's case they can be overlooked simply because "oh look! A shrapnel! Let's put Bacta on it" or by a simple assumption e.g. "Wrecker is huge so his muscles have to hurt due to his accelerated growth" or "of course his blood tests are off the charts - he is a defective clone after all" or even the other way "of course he doesn't have XYZ, it's all in his head/he is faking it, he is a CLONE after all and none of the clone troopers have such issues".

There are countless possibilities! So all in all it all boils down to - how comfortable are you in writing medical situations?

---

The ask is in relation to this tag -> [LINK] <-

===

STAR WARS: The Clone Wars © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

[the-ninjago-historian]

Hello Everyone

How are you all? Good I hope! :)

You may have noticed I've been posting less. This is because of a few different things came up that have been getting in the way. However, just to be clear, I'm not leaving. Never in a million years. Things might have to change a bit though. So, let me answer the question

What Happened?

The first thing that happened was the release of Dragons Rising Season 2. I wasn't expecting so much discourse to spawn from it. And as a person who uses this space as a way to escape negativity in the real world, that was upsetting for me. And I didn't want to be involved in any of it. So I decided to take a break for awhile. That started a chain reaction of me not being as timely with my release of leaks, news, fun facts and general posting. In addition, I also ended up shortly afterwards getting a huge case of burnout.

Thankfully, both the discourse and the burnout has died down a bit. (Although admittedly, I'm still scared to go anywhere near the Ninjago tag.😅) But to my surprise, something else came up. One of my other side blogs started taking off. I wasn't expecting it too. I had planned to keep it small since I was already working on many things here. But one thing lead to another, and now I'm frantically juggling two blogs that both need attention.

Hopefully I can get this all sorted out. I have a few idea that should work. Now, finally I can answer

What Happens Next?

Well, first and foremost, my projects. I should be very clear, none of the them are being shelved! Production will continue as usual, albeit a bit slower. In fact, the first episode of Ninjago: Rough Riders is almost ready for release! It just needs some finishing up and proof reading. And Ninjago: Into The Deep is coming too. However updates for these projects will no longer have a set release date and content will be released for them whenever I feel it is finished. This is merely for the sake of my own mental health and a way to keep myself from being burnout too quickly.

Other smaller projects such as the ROTTMNT x Ninjago AU, the NeverRealm Analysis Video, and various articles I had planned will have to be put on the back burner. Still coming. But later. News, trivia, and leaks may also come a bit slower. But I'll try my best to stay on top of that at least.

And that's it! Thank you to anyone reading! And I hope that I continue to provide the Ninjago fandom with plenty of fun and enjoyment for many years!

Have a wonderful day/night!💖💖💖

Sincerely, Ink Dragon

Inky✒️🐉

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 5/10

12k+ Hangster AU. Updating 2-3 parts per week and will be finished by 31st January 2024. (Each part is ~1500 words).

Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

For the emails in this part (because bold (Bradley Bradshaw) and italics (Jake Seresin) aren't super obvious) the beginning and ending of emails are also marked with this: <>

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

                The semester kicks off eight days later and Bradley is covering one of the freshman engineering courses for a colleague who has gone on sabbatical. Freshmen aren’t his favorite cohort of students, he prefers the more seasoned ones, the ones who have the end of their qualification in their sights rather than just starting out. Know how much blood, sweat and tears they’re going to have to put in to get the most out. His life falls into the usual rhythm of teaching-research-administration, with far too much administration for his liking, although he’s sure to stay on the good side of the engineering school administrators, who help make his life so much smoother in all respects.

                He has a fairly fixed routine, knows it’s entrenched in his upbringing, like the need for all his plates and mugs to match. He has quiz night with his colleagues and some postgraduate students every week, and they never allow him to duck out unless he’s sick. He goes rock climbing at least twice a week, sometimes three times. Runs three or four mornings a week. Plays music to unwind and because it forces himself to switch off other trains of thought; has a jam session with others every month. Goes hiking every other week. Mav has started joining him at either rock climbing or for the hike. He’s started joining Mav at the hangar occasionally, either working on a bike or some other piece of junk (and no Mav, my Bronco is not junk!)

                He has a meal box delivered every week on a Sunday night just before he usually heads out to Sunday night dinner with Mav and Ice. It’s meals for five nights, meant for two people. He just takes leftovers for lunch the next day except on the nights one of his friends comes over. He’s had a couple of long-term relationships and he knows Mav worries, but Bradley really doesn’t see it. Bradley likes his life. It’s over-flowing with friends and family. His job is interesting and challenging in equal measure. He’s well-liked and respected in his field, students from around the world want him to supervise them to do their own doctoral study, which is a huge compliment. He’s never had to put a relationship before work before, and while maybe with hindsight and the maturity that comes with age he was maybe a little insensitive about a couple of things he can’t go back and change things. He has his priorities and the people in his life know what those are. His hobbies and friends are important to him. His work is very important to him.

                He doesn’t expect to hear from Jake, although realizes he’s a little disappointed that he hasn’t. After talking properly with Mav he wants to meet the guy Mav knows and not what he suspects was a heavily curated version, although he doesn’t think the version that Mav knows is really the real one either. He thinks about it occasionally, a little puzzle in the back of his mind that he cannot ask Mav about, because he for sure as fuck would jump on any sign of interest and shove him in Jake’s path (again!) and he’s fine with his dad not being involved the next time he goes on a date.

                It’s a few months later when he opens his emails and spies the name Jake Seresin and it throws him a little, unexpected.

&lt;>Dear Professor Bradshaw,

I recently read your article about the mechanical and tribological behavior of particle reinforced matrix composites, particularly those used in aircraft structures for the less weight to strength ratio, low wear rate and high creeping behavior. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind answering some questions around the physical and mechanical properties, specifically the pros and cons between silicon versus titanium composites and the potential microstructure evaluation.

I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.

Lieutenant Jake Seresin<>

…             …             …

                Jake hadn’t known why Mav had given him the print-out of the journal article, he’d been too surprised at the time having someone waving him off as he deployed for seven months. A late deployment for reasons that were never explicitly explained but it’s what his orders were after he was physically recovered and undergone all assessments to ensure he was fit to fly. Some light reading material while you’re away… Mav had said, grinned, as he’d slapped the paper to Jake’s chest. Who even used paper these days? Trust Mav to print something out.

                It had taken him a couple of read-throughs to get to the end, the first time it had put him to sleep, but he’s sure it’s because he was so tired. Although Characteristics Study of Physical, Mechanical and Tribological Behaviour of SiC/TiB2 Dispersed Aluminium Matrix Composite isn’t his usual reading material. He had a couple of questions though, had seen the email address for the first author and just thought… why not? He had nothing to lose. Besides, Mav has recommended him to be a test pilot, and while he’s never had an interest before, if he does get into testing it would be good to understand more. Mav obviously thinks he should know more, or he wouldn’t have given him the article.

                So he shoots off the email, not wasting time with his actual questions incase the email goes to a dead-end and is never answered. He’s surprised he gets a reply within a day. Or what feels like a day on the ship, the rostered shifts making him lose time.

&lt;>Hey Jake, nice to hear from you. Glad you liked my article, surprised you even found it to be honest. Happy to answer your questions though. Do you want to do this via email, over the phone or in person? I always find in person a bit easier when I'm explaining complex problems. I've got some really good hands-on examples I can show you, happy to give you a private tour as well.

Let me know!

Kind regards,

Bradley B.<>

                Bradley. Another freaking Bradley. He wonders how popular that name is for him to have met another Bradley and now be emailing another one. Although he feels for this man, his parents naming him Bradley Bradshaw clearly wanted him to grow up and be able to take some hits. He reads the email a couple more times. It’s very familiar. Friendly. The temptation to shoot back an email brimming with innuendo is there, but he has no idea if he’s reading into something that isn’t there. He sits back and cracks his knuckles. This guy is a professor at SDU, there must be photos of him on the University website. Maybe that’ll help him determine how to reply.

                It doesn’t work though. He gets plenty of pictures, even some of Mav’s son which is fucking weird, but there are apparently more people called Bradley Bradshaw than he thought, although Bradley Shaw seems to be Google’s first fucking preference. He narrows it down by adding further criteria and finally ends up on the staff landing page listing the staff with little professional photos beside each one.

                Except for one Bradley Bradshaw.

                Instead it’s a picture of a fucking rooster of all things. The little cartoon one from Moana of all things, which he will deny knowing the name of with his last breath if he needs to. What kind of person doesn’t have a professional picture up? Okay, this one obviously. It makes Jake think he might be fairly young, or maybe really old? Fucked if he knows. He reads the little blurb and does some mental arithmetic and figures he must be around 40, maybe up to 45. He frowns, wondering how else he can find information about his personality and then he has an idea. He’s never used it, but he knows about Rate my Professor and he jumps into it, wondering what kind of information he can find. Maybe some idea about the guy.

Prof Bradshaw is a very good professor, he cares about student learning. While I found him to be a tough grader, he was engaging and thought-provoking. He constantly challenged us and didn’t take any BS.

Dr Bradshaw tends to give pop quizzes, so stay on top of the material. I liked his teaching style.

Would it kill him to dress properly? Demanding but fair. Somehow a hardass and a soft touch at the same time.

This was a difficult class, some classmates really struggled through it. Professor Bradshaw seemed to care about all students and went out of his way to help. His tests are hard, but he gives clear understanding of what he expects. The material can be really overwhelming and it’s hard to follow it, but I think if I’d had any other professor I would have failed.

Great sense of humor. Terrible taste in clothes. And facial hair.

He clearly enjoys teaching this subject and he wants his students to enjoy it just as much, which sucks when it’s a compulsory and you actually don’t want to be there. Respect for him though because he still helped me pass.

Demanding but fair. Show up to class, read the course materials and you’ll be fine.

Knows his shit.

Having a professor who is fluent in asl was a godsend. He went above and beyond to help me with my degree. He’s now one of my doctoral supervisors. Awesome educator and amazing person.

I know we’re not meant to comment on looks, but Prof B oozes confidence, and that’s attractive by itself. A++

               It’s that last comment that makes Jake grin slowly, think that this guy is maybe on the younger side.

&lt;>Hi Bradley,

Thanks for the prompt reply. I know I'm no expert, but I'd really appreciate your time. I'm not currently in the country, so we’ll just have to deal with emails for now. We can talk about that private tour and hands-on example when I'm back.

Kind regards,

Lieutenant Jake Seresin<>

                After he’s pressed send he feels a flush of unexpected embarrassment. That felt like too much. Unable to read the facial expressions, no idea if it was far too flirtatious, or just plain weird. He frantically looks for the recall button, knows he has about one minute to stop the message from going. He can’t remember where that particular setting is though and he stares at his screen. Okay. It’s fine. In his experience people who don't know they are being flirted with don't know. So hopefully there's no harm done. And if he gets a flirty reply? Well. He's okay with that too.

                He doesn’t have to wait very long.

PART SIX

[lol-jackles]

Hello, I’m sorry if this gets a bit long. I’ll try to edit it down once I’m done

So, I’m not saying this to downplay its importance to fans or Jared’s truly wanting to help people, but Jared was also very smart to come out with the Always Keep Fighting campaign, no? I could be talking out of my ass I this, because I wasn’t in the fandom at the time, but as well as being brave to share his anxiety/depression with fans, it also seems smart to share it on his own terms before it could be used against him. I think I’ve read on your blog that actors with MHI are often considered a liability to a production because if they “lose it” or walk off of the project, the higher ups are screwed. But, by Jared volunteering his personal information to the huge SPN fan base (and I assume some amount of press coverage), isn’t this a good way the give himself a bit of insurance? If his bosses are starting to think he looks expendable, they can’t now act on any desire to get rid of him without him or even his fans being able to turn around and call them out for discrimination.

I’m not saying these thoughts were the reason for AKF but do you think Jared had the foresight to sort of protect himself with the campaign as well, or was it all risk for him?.

I’m asking this because I read your recent response on possible reasons Jensen isn’t as sought after as Jared post SPN, despite being the clear favourite of some crew on the show.

Jared must have an amazing reputation to overcome the possible mental health stigma, and the fact that some SPN crew seem to blatantly favour Jensen (Wanek, Phil Segricia, Bib Singer, etc).

On a side note: who on the production crew do you think favoured, or even just backed Jared over Jensen? Or treated them equally even?

Okay, this was a lot. But I’d be interested in seeing your insight on any of this (I know you’ll pick what you would prefer to focus on) because from what I can tell, you really do have a pretty good read on what was likely going on behind the scenes.

I think you’re on the right track because it was also my first gut reaction the moment the Variety article came out. For Jared to come out when his career is still hot is pretty telling, normally actor don’t admit to mental illness until their career is drying up.  It’s one less thing he has to hide and therefore one less leverage others BTS can’t use against or hold over him.   

"I wasn’t in the fandom at the time"

During the early season there were rumors circulating that Jared was always late to the set. My first thought was, "They're setting him up to have a difficult reputation". It's producer tactic 101, put out fake news that the actor is a diva who is always late and if the actor doesn't toe the line, escalate it to "difficult actor" so that the studio is not the bad guy if the actor suddenly leaves. 7 years later we find out that Jared was looking to break his contract, so the producer(s) were preparing to make him the fall guy. Once Jared stayed on, the "late to the set" rumor immediately evaporated.

I bring this up because it ties into our speculation that Jared's decision to out himself for mental illness was at least partly motivated by removing a leverage against him BTS.

It was also the right time because he proved that as the principal lead of the longest continuous genre series in America, he's not a risk because filming schedule was never disrupted, which costs a lot of money. Even when he had a breakdown on set in season 3, he still finished out the season. His subsequent breakdown after season 10 could have derailed that, but he returned for season 11 and again lead the show through it's rating resurgence. Impressed, CBS arrived two years later at his doorstep with a holding deal.

"On a side note: who on the production crew do you think favoured, or even just backed Jared over Jensen?"

My immediate thought was Jeremy Carver. He was not in favor of the season 10 Dean-centric arc that Robert Singer and Jensen were angling for, and even tried to head off their campaign during Comic Con prior to season 9. His wife is currently the showrunner of Walker. There's also writer Adam Glass, I'm not sure why but he just vibed being all about Jared.

ETA: thanks to others' reminder, I would also add Sera Gamble. I can't believe I didn't immediatley thought of her as she's one of my favorite writers.

[sanguith]

Not defending ai art, genuinely asking: does the "If you don't make it with your own hands it doesn't count" argument equally apply to photography, in your opinion? The exact same criticism was leveled against it when cameras started to become widespread, which made me start to think more closely about where I draw the line and why.

(From a Baltimore Sun article:

As early as 1842, a magazine writer was complaining that “the artist cannot compete with the minute accuracy of the Daguerreotype.” By 1859, essayist Charles Baudelaire was denouncing photography as “the mortal enemy of art.”

“If photography is allowed to stand in for art in some of its functions,” Baudelaire fumed, “it will soon supplant or corrupt it completely.”

And a few years later, the writer Hippolyte Fandrin lamented: “I greatly fear that photography has dealt a death blow to art.”)

Again, this is a genuine question. I'm not an AI fan I'm just trying to figure out why people (including myself) treat it differently from other image generation or manipulation methods.

Oh! Thanks for the ask! It prompted a lot of thoughts, actually. This got kinda long, but as a philosophy nerd I like this stuff so buckle up! (I'm purely freestyling this btw, consider it more of a philosophical discussion rather than something based on empirical evidence - nearly impossible to do while discussing what defines "art"):

Yeah photography is real art as much as any other kind of art. I should not have limited it to art only being art if it's produced using hands, but rather mainly involving the creative process of a human consciousness somehow. I think my comment in the tags was more of a way to express the opinion that "AI art will never be human in the same intrinsically valuable way that human-made art is". In my opinion, humanity is intrinsically valuable and therefore the human creative component is integral to art. This creative component can of course look very different depending on the medium.

One could however argue that AI art does involve human intention. It is the human that picks the prompts and evaluates the finished image, after all. As with photography, the human picks an object, frames it, clicks the button and then evaluates and perhaps edits/develops the image. The absolute greatest problem I have with AI art however, which the original post focuses a lot on, is the art theft and the fact that many companies are actually using AI art as a direct replacement for human art.

And AI art can imitate a wide range of styles taken from huge datasets of existing images and create something that looks like an oil painting, a photo, watercolour, digital art, graphite, or written works like poems, articles, etc! So AI art can be everything, with much the same creation process behind it. Photography might have replaced a lot of demand for portrait art and photo-realistic art in society, but that is only one single quite small branch of the overall ocean of genres within art (it perhaps rather expanded on it!) and eventually became a whole branch of its own with many different subgenres.

Some questions that popped up in my head while writing this that I realize might actually be quite difficult to answer (these are for thinking about & discussing only, don't read these questions as me trying to justify anything):

Is the process of writing in prompts for an AI work art? Why/why not?

Is non-human art less valuable than human art? Why/why not?

If AI art is theft, does it disqualify it from being art? If so, what makes it different from human-made art that is directly plagiarizing another person's art?

Is the human process of programming an AI considered art?

How could AI art be produced and used ethically?

My own conclusion from this is that Art is a difficult concept to accurately assign one single universal definition to, and just as with everything in human society, it is constantly evolving. Whether or not it does qualify as art or not at the end of the day, however, it does not change the fact that AI art is currently being used in an unethical way that is having complex and direct real life repercussions on artists.

Again, thanks for the ask!! I love stuff like this and I try to think about it as critically as possible. My own opinion is probably still mostly "AI art bad" but mainly because of the negative effects and the unethical practice.

(Asking "why/why not" is so valuable btw, it allows one to continue asking and answering questions almost endlessly and eventually either arrive at some sort of "root" answer or go around in circles)