#activate stream 4k

[dailydoseoffunblogs]

Amazon Fire TV 55" Omni 4K Smart TV with Alexa

Gadgets and Home Essentials may earn a commission. You incur no extra cost when you buy through links on our site. I’m excited to share my thoughts on the Amazon Fire TV 55″ Omni Series 4K UHD smart TV. This device is set to change how I watch entertainment. It comes with advanced features, works seamlessly with Alexa, and has a beautiful 4K ultra HD display. Let’s explore what makes this TV so…

[tivostream4k]

In collaboration with Netflix, Tivo stream 4k activation was created for people who want to watch their favorite movies and television series uninterrupted. The Tivo Stream activation code can be entered to give consumers access to a large selection of 1080p TV series and movies. Tivo activate stream 4k has you covered whether you're at home lounging on the couch or on the go.

[nasa]

All-Star Moments in Space Communications and Navigation

How do we get information from missions exploring the cosmos back to humans on Earth? Our space communications and navigation networks – the Near Space Network and the Deep Space Network – bring back science and exploration data daily.

Here are a few of our favorite moments from 2024.

1. Hip-Hop to Deep Space

The stars above and on Earth aligned as lyrics from the song “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” by hip-hop artist Missy Elliott were beamed to Venus via NASA’s Deep Space Network. Using a 34-meter (112-foot) wide Deep Space Station 13 (DSS-13) radio dish antenna, located at the network’s Goldstone Deep Space Communications Complex in California, the song was sent at 10:05 a.m. PDT on Friday, July 12 and traveled about 158 million miles from Earth to Venus — the artist’s favorite planet. Coincidentally, the DSS-13 that sent the transmission is also nicknamed Venus!

NASA's PACE mission transmitting data to Earth through NASA's Near Space Network.

2. Lemme Upgrade You

Our Near Space Network, which supports communications for space-based missions within 1.2 million miles of Earth, is constantly enhancing its capabilities to support science and exploration missions. Last year, the network implemented DTN (Delay/Disruption Tolerant Networking), which provides robust protection of data traveling from extreme distances. NASA’s PACE (Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem) mission is the first operational science mission to leverage the network’s DTN capabilities. Since PACE’s launch, over 17 million bundles of data have been transmitted by the satellite and received by the network’s ground station.

A collage of the pet photos sent over laser links from Earth to LCRD and finally to ILLUMA-T (Integrated LCRD Low Earth Orbit User Modem and Amplifier Terminal) on the International Space Station. Animals submitted include cats, dogs, birds, chickens, cows, snakes, and pigs.

3. Who Doesn’t Love Pets?

Last year, we transmitted hundreds of pet photos and videos to the International Space Station, showcasing how laser communications can send more data at once than traditional methods. Imagery of cherished pets gathered from NASA astronauts and agency employees flowed from the mission ops center to the optical ground stations and then to the in-space Laser Communications Relay Demonstration (LCRD), which relayed the signal to a payload on the space station. This activity demonstrated how laser communications and high-rate DTN can benefit human spaceflight missions.

4K video footage was routed from the PC-12 aircraft to an optical ground station in Cleveland. From there, it was sent over an Earth-based network to NASA’s White Sands Test Facility in Las Cruces, New Mexico. The signals were then sent to NASA’s Laser Communications Relay Demonstration spacecraft and relayed to the ILLUMA-T payload on the International Space Station.

4. Now Streaming

A team of engineers transmitted 4K video footage from an aircraft to the International Space Station and back using laser communication signals. Historically, we have relied on radio waves to send information to and from space. Laser communications use infrared light to transmit 10 to 100 times more data than radio frequency systems. The flight tests were part of an agency initiative to stream high-bandwidth video and other data from deep space, enabling future human missions beyond low-Earth orbit.

The Near Space Network provides missions within 1.2 million miles of Earth with communications and navigation services.

5. New Year, New Relationships

At the very end of 2024, the Near Space Network announced multiple contract awards to enhance the network’s services portfolio. The network, which uses a blend of government and commercial assets to get data to and from spacecraft, will be able to support more missions observing our Earth and exploring the cosmos. These commercial assets, alongside the existing network, will also play a critical role in our Artemis campaign, which calls for long-term exploration of the Moon.

On Monday, Oct. 14, 2024, at 12:06 p.m. EDT, a SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket carrying NASA’s Europa Clipper spacecraft lifts off from Launch Complex 39A at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida.

6. 3, 2, 1, Blast Off!

Together, the Near Space Network and the Deep Space Network supported the launch of Europa Clipper. The Near Space Network provided communications and navigation services to SpaceX’s Falcon Heavy rocket, which launched this Jupiter-bound mission into space! After vehicle separation, the Deep Space Network acquired Europa Clipper’s signal and began full mission support. This is another example of how these networks work together seamlessly to ensure critical mission success.

Engineer Adam Gannon works on the development of Cognitive Engine-1 in the Cognitive Communications Lab at NASA’s Glenn Research Center.

7. Make Way for Next-Gen Tech

Our Technology Education Satellite program organizes collaborative missions that pair university students with researchers to evaluate how new technologies work on small satellites, also known as CubeSats. In 2024, cognitive communications technology, designed to enable autonomous space communications systems, was successfully tested in space on the Technology Educational Satellite 11 mission. Autonomous systems use technology reactive to their environment to implement updates during a spaceflight mission without needing human interaction post-launch.

A first: All six radio frequency antennas at the Madrid Deep Space Communication Complex, part of NASA’s Deep Space Network (DSN), carried out a test to receive data from the agency’s Voyager 1 spacecraft at the same time.

8. Six Are Better Than One

On April 20, 2024, all six radio frequency antennas at the Madrid Deep Space Communication Complex, part of our Deep Space Network, carried out a test to receive data from the agency’s Voyager 1 spacecraft at the same time. Combining the antennas’ receiving power, or arraying, lets the network collect the very faint signals from faraway spacecraft.

Here’s to another year connecting Earth and space.  

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN. T_T canon stuff/medieval health care might not be accurate so ROLLLL with it ok. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon takes you to the dining room, and upon entering, you are met with Rhaenyra and Alicent, who were in the middle of eating lunch. For a split second, you are happy to see them both, but then you remember the horrible news regarding the princess's mother.

Daemon is taken off-guard by how you pull away from him. He knits his brows, following after you as you head towards his niece, deeply annoyed by how easily you disregard him. But upon hearing the words you speak, he freezes.

"My deepest condolences, my princess," you curtsy at Rhaenyra before placing a hand on her shoulder.

She is dejected and her eyes are sullen as she turns to you.

"She was in active labor last I saw her..." you shake your head, finding the words to say, "it is terrible to be without a mother," you turn to your sister, placing a hand on her shoulder as well, "the pain never quite leaves you. My sister and I know it well."

Rhaenyra turns back to her food, "how good to know."

You frown and crouch down beside her, "darling."

Rhaenyra slowly turns back to you, tears now falling from her eyes.

"Pain is difficult... but I've come to realize," you swipe her cheek, "it makes peace all the more precious." You chuckle under your breath when your own eyes begin to water, "I would know."

Alicent frowns, quickly feeling her own eyes well up at the display.

The same happens to Daemon. He watches three girls weep and his face hardens as he comes to Rhaenyra's side, "bisa tolī kessa rēbagon, ñuha riña." This too shall pass, my girl.

Rhaenyra turns to her uncle as he grabs her hand, heavy tears stream down her face, "ziry ōdragon." It hurts.

Daemon is supposed to say something, but then he notices Alicent begin to fuss over you. You softly brush her off as you come to stand. Alicent is quick to stand with you, and she is glad to have done so, because you nearly topple back.

Rhaenyra's hand is quickly dropped when Daemon comes to your side, calling out your name. You sheepishly turn to him, apologizing over and back as he escorts you to a seat.

Rhaenyra stares at you as her uncle sits you in the chair across her She watches how Daemon treats you, thinking she's never seen him treat anyone like this before, much less a lady. It makes her sorrow all the more sour.

He brushes your back but only calms after your food is served and he's seen you eat a few bites. He takes a goblet of wine but his eyes remain fixed on you, "better?"

You turn to him, sheepish, still, "I am. Thank you, darling."

Alicent's eyes widen at the sound of the pet name. Rhaenyra rolls her eyes with a huff. It is precisely that sound that makes you realize what you've said. You were used to referring to Alicent and Rhaenyra that, it came so naturally this moment, "I- I mean-"

"Where is your father?" Daemon turns to Rhaenyra, seemingly not noticing your slip up. He did notice, but why wouldn't you call him darling?

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw as she shakes her head, "mourning his lost heir."

Both you and your husband's face fall. You turn from the princess to the prince, reaching for his hand. Daemon clutches your hand as his brows constrict, "your brother is dead?"

"Just last night," Rhaenyra absentmindedly stirs her food, "his and my mother's funereal will be held in a few hours."

Your heart hurts for her, "my deepest sympathies for your losses, princess."

There is a thick silence for a moment. You all find it quite hard to eat, but you do so regardless. You force feed yourself through the unpleasant churn in your belly. After a while, you look across the room, finding that it looked everyone was experiencing the same thing. You break the silence, turning to your sister, "perhaps Alicent can accompany you to the temple to pray. It did always help me."

Alicent turns to Rhaenyra, but she does not react.

Your sister looks back at you and you give her a nod of encouragment. Alicent thinks for a moment, "a walk there would be good for you as well."

You smile at the red haired girl.

"My prayers are terrible," Rhaenyra mumbles.

You huff and frown at the thought, "it is impossible. No prayer is terrible, especially not one spoken in earnest."

Rhaenyra remembers how her septa would use you as an example for praying. She sniffles, "would you join us, aunt?"

You perk and immediately nod, "I would love t-"

"No," Daemon quips, placing his silverware down, "I do not want to be subjected to tolling bells and incense."

You all turn to him as Daemon turns to you. You slowly shake your head, "if... that is the case, you do not have to come."

Daemon's eyes widen ever so slightly in offense.

"Perhaps you can wa-"

"Kesan daor mītepagon ao ñuha ābrazȳrys," I will not lend you my wife, says Daemon to Rhaenyra.

You turn from your husband to his niece. Rhaenyra looks back at you, "he says he will not lend you to me."

Your lips part, giving him a look, "Daemon."

"She has your sister," he turns to you, "if they need another companion, lend her your ward."

A long silence passes.

Rhaenyra stares at her half-empty plate and decides that's as much as she'll ever get to eat in this moment. She pushes her chair back and stands, "I'm quite finished," she looks between the table. Alicent takes a final spoonful before standing as well.

"Raqagon aōha ābrazȳrys, kepa," enjoy your wife, uncle, Rhaenyra says as she walks off. Alicent follows after her, and both girls look at you as you stand to greet them goodbye. Daemon simply looks at his niece.

Rhaenyra, though she always harbored a special affection towards her uncle, could not find it in her to project her ire out on you, for you were nothing but kind to her, and after all, you were her closest friend's older sister. She nods at you as she leaves, "princess."

"Princess," you nod back and do the same for Alicent, "sister. Take care of each other."

Once they are gone, you sit back down and glare at Daemon.

It takes a moment for him to realize it. When he catches your look, his brows contort. You immediately quip, "would it very hard for you to stomach the ambience of the temple for an hour?"

Daemon turns back to his plate. He thinks of the night he came to you at the temple, "just because I came for you does not mean I wish to do the same for Rhaenyra."

You knit your brows deeply, not having a clue on what he's saying, "what?"

The image of sorrowful wailing still haunts him, and your prayer for death is not something he wishes to hear ever again. You cannot pray such prayers if you are not in that fucking place, "I forbid you from going to the temple."

"You forbid me?" you ask, flabbergasted.

"It is my prerogative where I go, and-" he turns back to you, "where my wife does."

You stare at him for a moment. You feel frustration bubble in your belly, "Daemon."

Anger bubbles in his belly.

You reach for his hand and gaze upon him in confusion, "the child's mother is dead."

He looks at your hand before his away, "I knew her mother longer than she has."

You chuckle in disbelief, pulling your head back. He looks at you, jaw set and eyes glassy. You shake your head slowly, "that's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Daemon laughs, hurt by your sentiment.

"Her mother is dead," you shake your head rapidly, "she who taught her everything she kno-"

Daemon stands abruptly, jaw and fists clenched tightly, making you flinch. He stares at you for a long moment and you feel your breath begin to grow heavy. You slowly reach for his hand, half expecting him to rip his arm away. When he does not, you come to a stand, "Dae-"

"You impress me with your commitment to understand everyone else but I."

His words stab you like a spear through the chest. Your eyes begin to water, "is that what you think I'm do-"

"Then what?!" he snaps, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

You begin to sob and you take his cheeks, "I'm trying to make you understand what I am thinking, why I want to go with Rhaenyra, because I know what it fee-"

"Do I not mourn?" Daemon swats your hand away from him. He quickly turns away when his tears begin to fall. He does not get to notice how you twitch at his action, nor how instantly your heart begins to race.

He walks off to the door, stopping for a moment, waiting for you to come after him. You do not.

More accurately, you cannot. You clutch your chest and try to calm yourself before you slip into a full blown attack. You force yourself to take five deep breaths, and thankfully, you do not feel light headed.

Daemon, too wrapped up in his self-suffering, does not even think to look at you and storms out of the dining room.

By the time the doors slam shut, you are able to bring yourself to go after your husband. You move as quickly as you can, convincing yourself sprinting was worth it if you managed to catch up to Daemon. The thing was, you were still a terrible runner, and it if wasn't hard enough to catch your breath, you were screaming out the prince's name as you did, making it doubly hard.

Daemon, on the other hand, did not have to try to walk as fast as he did. He is walking so fast, if anyone were to crash into him, they would shoot off and hurt themselves.

It doesn't take long for you to lose your breath, and though you didn't want to, your body to forces you to stop. You were so close. You managed to catch a whiff of Daemon's silver hair, but now everything was turning silver... then black. You reach to the side to lean against the wall, but you miscalculate your reach and shift your weight, only to slip and crash roughly onto the ground.

You're so out of breath, no sound comes out of you when you crash. The pain is immense, yet you are rendered mute. Your ribs throb at the impact of colliding against the stone floor. You do not know it, but your nose it bleeding too.

It's a wonder that you did not pass out. Or perhaps it was the gods' will for you to feel fibre of your body strangle itself from how your lungs struggled, as punishment for being unkind to your husband.

You do know know it, but two Gold Cloaks find you on the floor. They are quick to bring you to the maester's ward. You hear them explain to the measter how they found you, and you muster up your remaining energy to say, "Daemon... please."

The two Gold Cloaks understand and leave with the intent of sending your husband to you. They will not manage to find him till much later for he went off on dragonback.

You lie on one of the cots in the maester's ward, staring at the ceiling you've come to know all too well. You know your maester can do little to help you in this moment, but you are grateful for his care nonetheless.

"You mustn't strain yourself in your condition, your grace," the old man says, "you are carrying a child within you."

You tense at his words. Your sit up and straighten your back, rapidly shaking your head, "b-but, maester, how can that be? It cannot be."

He offers you a solemn look, "your father, Lord Hand, has made us monitor you-"

"He does not finish inside me," you quip and frantically motion, "he- he... he spills on my skin. How then can I be with child?"

The maester is taken aback by your confession. He does not give himself away though and calmly explains, "it is still possible for... the seed take root from premature ejaculation."

You are floored by this information. You shake your head in disagreement, "but— he will not believe me."

"He does not have to. It does not ch-"

"He will do everything to villainize me. He will accuse me of infidelity."

He frowns, "I can explain it to-"

"No!" you grab his arms, "you must not tell him! You must not tell a soul."

He pulls his head back, "your grace..." he brings your hands slowly off him, "you can only hide such a thing for so long."

You shake your head and bring yourself to stand, "it is a worry for another time."

"Wait- you cannot leave-"

"I cannot miss the queen's funeral."

The maester does his best to prevent you from leaving. He calmly tries to lead you back to bed and explain that no one would fault you for being unable to attend. You are persistent however and managed to get out of the room. Two other maesters come and try to reel you back in, and it is the same time your wards come running in.

News of you fainting had spread like wildfire, and both their faces were marked with avid worry. "Princess!" they call in unison.

"Make them release me!" you wail in exhaustion as you fight off the maesters.

"She cannot go," your maester says, "she is far too weak."

"Unhand her this instant!" Erryk barks, ready to forcefully shove the old men away from you.

The maesters pull away in shock and confusion as Erryk imposes upon them. Arryk is the one to keep you upright, and he is horrified by the state you are in. You lean into his armour, lulled by his hard steel as you sigh in exhaustion.

"You would subdue her in such a state?" Arryk snaps.

"She is hysterical," the maester says, "she is not strong enough to-"

"Aye, but she's strong enough to fight off 3 grown men?" Arryk grits his teeth as he keeps you upright, "have you not given her medication?"

He sighs, "there is no medication fo-"

"Then what business has she here?" Erryk raises his brows, "you'd keep her to rot?"

The man scoffs, "I am offended, ser, that you think you know better than I when it comes to the health of the princess."

"I do know better," Erryk snaps, "you will not treat her like a prisoner if she asks to leave again."

"Ha!" the maester snaps, "fine! I'm sure the days you've spent gutting men has made you learned in the ways to heal them, ser."

With that, the maesters leave and you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. You sigh as Erryk turns to you, seeing the hardness of his face soften in real time. You frown, "you should not have done that."

"My duty?" he narrows his eyes, "they had you surrounded like a criminal."

Arryk nods, "I fear they might have bruised you."

You sigh, fighting back tears. You steel yourself away and shake your head, "I should prepare for the funeral."

You do just that and Erryk and Arryk escort you to the funeral. You immediately spot Daemon, but he was stood beside his brother and niece, so you did not think it proper to interlope. You find Alicent standing just a few paces from Rhaenyra and debate to join her, but then you see the Lord Hand farther behind her, and you feel the need to cry.

"Papa," you mumble to yourself as you go to him.

Your father is quick to recognize your distress once you come to him, and quickly takes you under his arm. It is so instinctive, the Cargyll twins are shocked by it. They were supposed to keep close watch on you, but they decided to give you and your father privacy.

Otto had long decided physical affections were no use to you, and yet in this moment, he pulls you into him, securing one arm your shoulders. You press your cheek into his chest as you steal a glance at the king. Viserys stands before two lifeless bodies, and the sight mirrored that of the day your mother died.

You wrap your arms around your father.

He sighs, eyes throwing daggers at the Rogue fucking prince, "did he take the news badly?"

You shake your head, "I have not told him."

Otto sighs again, agitated and disappointed. His face is crestfallen as calls out your name, "what happened then?"

"I am terrified."

Your father tenses and clenches his jaw. He strokes your hair, doing his best to ignore the awful sounds you were making. "The gods with strengthen you, daughter." he turns to Alicent, "I will take care of it, my girl."

After the funeral, once Otto made sure you are taken care off, he goes to his other daughter and asks about the princess. Alicent is quick to explain to him that Rhaenyra is so much like you when your mother died, "I have not seen Rhaenyra in such a state."

Otto offers Alicent a soft smile, placing a hand on her cheek, "you are ever empathetic, daughter, to both the princess and your sister."

"Sister did not look well at the funeral either. I should check up on her."

"That won't be necessary," her father raises a hand, "I've seen to her already. She needs only to rest now."

Alicent slowly nods.

"You ought to offer some empathy to the king however."

The girl tenses at the thought.

"Unlike your princesses, the king does not have people to go to at this time. Even now, he's secluded himself in his chambers. It would be good of you to go to him from time to time, if only to express how you keep him in your prayers."

Alicent tries to make sense of it. She clenches her jaw, "wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to do this, father?"

He chuckles lowly, "how much sadder would he be if a widower offer another widower his bitter prayers?"

She stills at the thought and understands. Or so she thinks.

Otto smiles and places a hand on her shoulder, "it might be best if you keep private your visits to him. You need not explain your concern to Rhaenyra to further distress her."

She nods in understanding. In truth, she does not understand the true intentions of her father, and will not until it is far too late.

As this was happening, you were trying to get ahold of Daemon. You could not for he was quick to leave the funeral right after it concluded. He had seen you crying to your father and wanted to wash his eyes with alcohol, unwanting to behold such a gruesome sight. It stung far too much that you sought comfort in that cunt face. Why didn't you cry to him instead?

Daemon washes alcohol down his throat instead with members of his City Watch at his favorite brothel. Mysaria is there to keep him company and though her touch and words are gentle, he cannot find solace in them like he once did.

The two guards who had found you on the floor earlier today hear about the gathering and go to the prince to tell him what had happened to you.

"Your grace."

Daemon sulks as he stares at a cup of wine. Mysaria, who was stood behind his chair, looks at the men then to the silver haired man, "my prince. These men want to speak to you."

"Wha-what for?" he snaps through a hiccup.

"Your wife, my prince," one says.

Mysaria stiffens, lips parting. She was not a stranger to Daemon's foul moods and prided herself in easily defusing them. It changed when he married the Hightower girl. Though it was evident most of his frustrations stemmed from you, you were too much of a touchy subject, which is why she says, "I do not think he wants to talk about her."

"A whore should not meddle with concerns she cannot understand."

Mysaria scoffs, thinking about how Daemon fucked her once and called out his bride's name. When she brought it up after, he screamed, telling her he doesn't pay her to ask questions. She steps back and crosses her arms, "be my guest then."

One of the two guards lean forward in an attempt to gain the attention of the distracted man, "prince Daemon. We wished to report something regarding your wife."

Daemon ticks. He had been gazing into space, but now he has the wits to pours himself a drink, "is she dead now too?"

The two are taken aback. Mysaria steps back a few paces.

"N-no, your grace. But she-"

"Then do not FUCKING mention her to me!" Daemon snaps, jolting from his seat. His scream was loud enough to cause the noise to cease. He grabs his cup and downs his drink in one go. He then pushes past the two guards and begins to monologue.

"The gods give as the gods take," he says, voice horse and eyes misty. "Try as they may, I am not so easily replaced."

The room is solemn as they look upon the prince. He is clearly distraught and wholly drunk.

He stares at his cup, "wine does not taste sweeter with tears. Tonight, we drink to the Heir For A Day..." he burps, "perhaps he would have liked wine."

Back in the keep, as Alicent leaves her father's quarters, you go to them, which is why you cross paths. She is concerned by how you lean into ser Cargyll's arm as you walk, and immediately comes to your side, "sister?"

"Alicent," you smile, immediately perking up.

"Lady Hightower," the knight greets her.

"It's ser Erryk," you playfully whisper with a smile.

Alicent turns to you and offershim as soft smile, "ser Erryk."

"You spoke to father, surely," you take her hand, making her look back at you, "is his mood grim?"

She shakes her head, "no. He is... relatively placid, I think."

"Good," you break away from Erryk. He assures you are firmly planted on your feet before releasing you, "I can talk to him then."

"Shouldn't you rather be resting?" she asks in concern.

"It is urgent. I-" you shake your head, "I cannot delay any further."

Alicent realizes then that your hair was fully undone and slightly messy now. You were also in your thick velvet robe, and it only causes her further concern. "I know I am not Gwayne, but if there is anything you wish to speak of," she squeezes your hands, "I am hear to lend an ear."

Your lips wobble, but you steel yourself away. You crush your sister into your arms and pepper her cheeks with kisses, "my sweet girl. I am five years your senior. I must lend you my ear." You pull away and cup her cheeks. You frown when you see her glassy eyes, "do not worry for me."

She chuckles rather sadly, "we help but worry always for those we love."

Erryk heart pinches at the solemn exchange of the two sisters. He is glad to know that at least one more person in your family loved you with gentleness. He makes mental note to encourage you to write to your brother.

When Alicent leaves, you take a breath before knocking on the Hand's door.

"Enter."

You walk in and find your father busy at his desk.

"Father."

Otto looks up at you, immediately coming to stand, "what's wrong?"

You close the door behind him, catching Erryk's encouraging gaze. He nods before you shut the door. You turn to you father, finding he was already walking towards you.

He takes your hand, inspecting you. He speaks your name carefully, and it softens your frigid demeanor, "what has happened?"

You smile sadly, "I cannot sleep."

He sighs, partially relieved it is nothing so severe. He walks towards the door, "I will have one of the maids send you warm milk and honey."

"There is something I must tell you," you say, making him stop.

He turns back you, antsy over your serious tone, "if it is regarding Daemon. Do not worry. I have designs to keep him on a leash."

You release his hand and turn to your feet.

His expression hardens. He knows whatever you have to say is grave because you can no longer look at him. He steps forward and takes your cheeks, "daughter."

You look up at him, face stained with tears.

"Go to bed," he wipes your cheeks, "you'll muster the nerve to tell your husband the news soon en-"

"He does not finish inside me, father."

"..."

"I've-" you choke on your breath, "I've spoken about it to the maesters and he's explained it is possible for the seed to take root from premature ejaculation but-"

"Have you strayed?" Otto tightens his hold a fraction.

You are aghast by his statement and rapidly shake your head, "father, I wou-"

"Then there is nothing to fear," he cuts you off, brows tensing, "your child will be born with silver hair and violet eyes, and-"

"Only I inherited your hair color," you mumble, beginning to tremble, "if my child looks too much like me—" you rapidly shake your head, "he will-"

"Enough," he snaps, shaking you slightly.

You chest begins to tighten.

Otto notices and brushes your hair out of your face. He recites the common prayer you used to pray with your mother, "Seven, hear me. Father, strengthen me. Mother, protect me. Warrior, d—"

"Defend me," you sigh, joining in, "Smith, mend me."

"Mend my daughter," Otto mumbles softly.

"Maiden, beautify me," you say together, "Crone, enlighten me. Stranger, guide me."

Otto nods and strokes your hair, "now breathe."

It takes a few deep breaths, but you are calm now. He leads you to the door and opens it. "Oh, good," he says, once spotting your ward, "you're not entirely useless."

Erryk walks over to you, ignoring your father completely as he takes you by the arm.

"Take her to bed and have some warm milk and honey served to her."

"Yes, my lord," he says, though not sparing the lord a glance.

You, however, do, looking back with a soft smile, "good night, father."

He is about to reply, but then comes a servant boy, holding a plate of crackers and cheese, who freezes at the sight of the crowded entry. He thinks he's made a mistake, so he turns to leave, but Otto raises a hand and beckons the boy over, "come."

The boy walks past you, mumble a soft, "milady."

You smile and nod, "good evening."

Erryk eyes him suspiciously as he enters the room but refocuses on walking you back.

Otto closes the door and the boy places the crackers on the table. The man circles 'round to his desk and sits down, "what news do you bring me today?"

"Prince Daemon at the brothel, milord," the boy says, rolling back and forth on his heels.

The Lord Hand's face twists in contempt. He pulls his desk open and procures a cold coin.

The boy gleefully takes it and begins to explain the events that take place.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Why yo JJK Daddy won't fuck you in his domain

or

Questions We Were Too Afraid to Ask About Gojo's Domain Mid-Fiuck

Q.) Would a normal human suffocate in Gojo’s Infinite Void? Is it a slow death by asphyxiation, or something worse?

Ans.) Okay, picture this: you’re trapped in a space where time, reality, and the very fabric of your sanity start glitching out like a Windows XP error screen. Now ask yourself—would you be thinking about oxygen, or would your brain already be deep-fried beyond recognition? Let’s break it down:

Instant Incapacitation: The moment Infinite Void activates, your brain is force-fed an infinite stream of information. It’s like trying to read every Wikipedia article at once while someone screams quantum physics into your ear. You don’t even get the chance to feel yourself suffocate—because you’re already mentally done before your lungs even remember they exist.

Infinity’s Environmental Control: Gojo controls space at an atomic level, right? If he can stop physical objects but still let oxygen in when fighting, then he’s probably not sealing his Domain like a vacuum chamber. Your lungs might be fine, but your brain? Completely bricked.

Domain Mechanics: Domains are spiritual barriers, not physical ones. While they trap targets, they don’t inherently cut off external airflow unless the user explicitly designs them to (e.g., a water-based Domain). Gojo’s focus is on information overload, not environmental sabotage.

Verdict: You’re not suffocating. You’re getting an eternal brain freeze while Gojo stands there looking pretty. If death had a blue screen of death, this would be it.

TDLR: You die, but not from lack of air. You die because your brain is sent to the fifth dimension against its will long before suffocating can become an issue.

Q.) What if he's like having sexy times with his wife and he like you know…. arrives at the station and accidently activates it then would she suffocate????

Ans.) Picture the surreal horror of an intimate moment shattered by cosmic miscalculation. Even in this absurd scenario, suffocation remains unlikely. Here’s why:

Activation Demands Total Focus: Gojo’s Infinite Void requires hand signs and chanting. If he’s “arriving at the station” mid-sexy-time, his brain is probably focused on… other priorities. Domain Expansions demand intense concentration—hard to pull off when you’re, uh, distracted. Or, Infinite Void isn’t a button you can hit by accident. It requires precise hand signs and an unwavering focus—a mental state that’s nearly impossible to maintain when you're caught in a passionate embrace. Your mind is split between desire and duty, and the latter simply can’t be achieved halfway. Or, Infinite Void isn’t a sneeze; it’s a full-on hand-sign-chanting-mind-focus event. If he’s “arriving at the station,” his brain is, let’s just say… preoccupied. And last I checked, you need at least some mental bandwidth to activate a Domain Expansion.

Even If It Happens (Somehow, Someway)-Infinity’s Autopilot: Even if he somehow activated it, his Limitless technique subconsciously filters threats. Air molecules = allowed. Suffocation = blocked. The Domain’s true purpose is to flood the target’s consciousness with overwhelming data, not to create a suffocating prison. His wife would still get oxygen���just also get a front-row seat to the cosmos screaming into her brain. Or, Gojo’s Infinity is basically his body's automatic firewall. If it filters poison gas, it sure as hell filters air molecules. His wife isn’t suffocating—she’s just getting front-row seats to cosmic horror at 4K resolution. Imagine mid-sex and suddenly, BAM—the entire universe starts whispering forbidden knowledge into your skull.

The Real Danger-Instant Neural Shutdown: Instead of a slow demise by lack of air, the person caught in the void would experience a rapid collapse of their mental faculties. Imagine an instantaneous, existential blue-screen of death—where your brain is the system crashing, not your lungs giving out. Or, she wouldn’t be gasping for air. She’d be locked in place, her mind thrown into a spiraling existential meltdown while Gojo panics, like, “Oh shit, wrong expansion—”

Gojo Would Shut That Shit Down IMMEDIATELY: Domains burn a ton of energy—he’d collapse it within seconds, realizing his mistake (and probably screaming in horror). Then he’d spend the next 72 hours groveling with limited-edition crepes and emergency foot rubs.

Verdict: So, while the headcanon is as wild as it is darkly humorous, the outcome isn’t a suffocation scenario. It’s a catastrophic, instantaneous mental overload—a cosmic “oops” that leaves you with nothing but a shattered psyche. So just trauma and a very awkward conversation with Shoko later.

TDLR: You know how you need to focus to get the optimal velocity in bed? It’s the same for him. He’s either focusing on the sex or the Domain—he can’t do both. (I know all men do is lie. SMH. Men right.)

And for this reason alone, NONE of your JJK Dads/Moms are fucking you in their Domains.

…Except maybe Takaba. But only if you’re funny enough. And even then, you’ll never know if he’s laughing with you or at you.

PS: These deductions are based on watching everything way too closely. If you disagree, let’s argue—after all, the void is infinite, and so are our headcanons.

Double PS, read comments. There's more deep discussion going on.

[foodiegoogie]

what friends are for

sirius black x fem!reader ✮ 4k summary: you’re an overthinker at its finest; sirius is an overdoer when it comes to saving you from you and your thoughts. cw/tags: no use of y/n, highschool!au, biker!sirius (mentioned), too long for its own good,, nothing too heavy <3 also the teachers r still called professors here bcoz yes !

note: DAMN FINALLY ive finished this 😭 tho its still a little too long for my taste .. i am kinda proud of this :> this was a recycled thoma request, but since i kind of serve to the marauders audience now,, i decided to give it to sirius 🥰 happy reading! 🫶🏼

Having an overly active brain was both a blessing, and a curse. You loved your creativity and intelligence, and they definitely showed in your report cards. What you didn't like was how often you thought about simple, small matters, and then thought about it some more, and then some more after that. You were an overthinker at its finest. Everyone who knew you well enough would agree that you were a non-stop thinking machine, and they all hoped you would cut yourself some slack and give yourself a break.

“That’s easier said than done,” you’d say to them. Oh, what you wouldn't give to stop being a self-sufficient, but also self-pitying brainiac! 

But, as they all say, old habits die hard. That is why here you are, in class, watching your teacher collect your test papers and slowly getting into the routine of asking yourself the questions—the what-ifs, did-Is, and the like. 

You were bouncing your leg up and down restlessly while chewing on your bottom lip, looking very deep in thought, when you felt something hit your head lightly. A crumpled ball of paper landed in your point of view, breaking you out of the trance from overthinking. Picking it up, you opened it and smoothed it out to see what was written inside. 

You look like you just murdered someone and are now burdened by your guilty conscience.

Despite your sour mood, you managed to let out a snort and a soft smile after reading the line. You could recognize the flawlessly cursive handwriting anywhere; it belonged to your good friend, Sirius Black. And knowing him, you knew better than to come up with a snarky reply and retaliate. Getting caught chit chatting with someone like him during class hours could land you in detention, especially now that the teacher inside your classroom was the one and only Physics Terror, Professor McGonagall.

So, you crumple the piece of paper back into its ball shape, and stuff it into your backpack. A few seconds later, you feel something hit your head again. The culprit? Yet another crumpled ball of paper, now sitting on your desk. Letting curiosity get the best of you, you open it up and read what's written.

Ok, rude? Guess you can forget about getting my help cuz I know a good place to bury a body :)

Softly chuckling to yourself, you shook your head and wondered why you were even friends with someone as bizarre as Sirius while you put the crumpled paper in your bag. For a while, you didn’t feel anything light hit your head like you expected. But just as you were about to spiral into another endless stream of self-doubt, you were hit again with a crumpled ball of paper. 

Slowly, you turned around in your seat to glare at Sirius. You meet his eyes doing the same thing, and then gesturing impatiently at you to open the piece of paper he just threw at you. You stuck your tongue out at him out of spite before finally opening the piece of paper.

Y R U NOT TAKING ME SERIOUSLY?!

The sentence was written in bold black letters, underlined a bunch of times, and the punctuation marks at the end were twice the size of the letters. Having read the ridiculous note, you let out what might have been the loudest cackle you have ever let out in your highschool life.

You hear your name called out loudly by Professor McGonagall, in a stern tone that could only mean one thing for you. It felt absolutely mortifying to have your classmates' eyes on you, seeing their pity and amusement appear on their faces. 

"You'll be seeing Mr. Filch for detention after class," She said, zeroing in on you with her piercing glare. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead in your seat by now, and Sirius could use his knowledge of good places to bury dead bodies so he could bury yours. "I hope you'll learn your lesson in your time with him." 

"I will, Professor," You replied, the embarrassment reflecting in your voice.  Great—not only were you unsure about your grade for this class, but now you had one more thing to be worried about, as well as overthink about.

Unable to take on your classmates’ pitying looks on you, you crossed your arms on your desk and laid your head down against them, hiding your face from the prying eyes of your classmates. You could not handle any more humiliations. But you also thought that nothing could possibly be worse than the situation you put yourself in.

Then, you were proven wrong.

All of a sudden, you heard your classmates murmuring around you. Lifting your head up to see what was going on, you saw a paper plane glide smoothly through the air before it landed perfectly on the stack of test papers Professor McGonagall was currently grading. 

To some of your classmates, what happened afterward took less than a minute. But to the rest, including yourself, it seemed like eternity with how carefully Professor McGonagall dropped her pen, and took off her glasses. She picked up the paper plane and opened it up, narrowing her eyes at whatever was written inside. Unfortunately, none of you ever knew what was written inside. But you all knew that it wasn't any good, judging by the twitch in her eye and the frown on her face.

"Who does this belong to?" She asked, her displeasure clearly heard in her voice and seen in the glare she gives everyone in the room. A beat passes, and suddenly everyone is pointing fingers to someone sitting at the back of the classroom. 

Though you had a hunch on who it was they were pointing at, you hoped that you were wrong; that it turned out to be some other classmate of yours who had rotten luck just like you. Then, you were proven wrong… again.

You turned around in your seat just in time to meet the mischievous eyes of your raven-haired friend. He even took the time to throw you a playful wink before clearing his throat dramatically. 

"Good morning, Professor,” Sirius began, his hand closed in a fist like it was holding something near his mouth. “This is your captain speaking. It seems like my aeroplane experienced turbulence and crashed in your area. Terribly sorry, rookie mistake! Rest assured that I'll comply with whatever punishment you subject me to for the matter." 

"In that case, good, because you'll be serving detention alongside your classmate here," Professor McGonagall nods in your direction. "I hope you'll both learn something about rudely disrupting the peace and quiet during class hours with unnecessary distractions." She smiled, although anyone could tell it wasn't to be kind. Then, she returned to her previously interrupted task of grading test papers.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. Of course, he'd get himself into trouble, you thought. You turned to look at him, catching his attention, and mouthed the words, "What'd you do that for?"

Sirius shrugged in reply, a cheeky smile on his face before mouthing the word, "You."

—

Genuinely, you have always wondered how you managed to land yourself a place in Sirius’ life as one of his closest friends. It was one of the things you’ve thought about over and over, but have never really gotten to the bottom of. Nevertheless, you will always be grateful for having a friend like him, even if he does give you a headache sometimes.

It turns out that serving detention wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, having been assigned under Mr. Filch’s orders of tending to the flora and fauna stored in the school greenhouses. In fact, you were actually kind of enjoying it, and Sirius being with you totally wasn’t a part of the reason why. 

“You know, this actually isn’t so bad,” He remarked, spraying the lavenders with some water, a faint smile on his face. “I thought we’d be somewhere organizing Sprout’s herb collection or something.”

You laugh at his statement, “Not gonna lie, I expected something boring, too. But this is pretty nice.” You beamed at him, looking away from where you’d been adjusting potted plants accordingly where the sunlight was hitting. 

“Who knew we’d be so good at gardening?” 

“I know, right?” 

Sirius chuckled in reply, and you joined in with him, taking the time to look at him before returning to your task. He looked especially handsome whenever he laughed; eyes crinkled by the edges with amusement, his pearly whites on perfect display as he smiled. It also certainly didn’t help that on top of the black leather jacket he wore, he was wearing an apron, and a bandana tied around his hair which pushed it back to act as a headband, revealing his forehead which glistened with a thin layer of sweat. 

Sirius Black looked ridiculously handsome, and you didn’t need to think twice about that, because it was a well-known fact.

At that moment, you were so caught up in staring at him that Sirius caught you in action. It was already too late to look away and feign indifference for you as a smirk had started to make its way onto his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” He practically purred, his voice taking on a deeper, more flirtatious tone than usual. Your brain loses its ability to function momentarily before you quickly wracked your mind for a snarky retort. 

“How original,” You quipped, trying to hide your momentary lapse in brain function at his unexpected tone. Sirius lets you get away with it, hiding a subtle smile of amusement to himself. 

Turning back to a pot of chrysanthemums you’d neglected briefly, you decide to change the topic. “So I was just wondering,” You began, a curious lilt to your voice. “What’d you write on that paper plane you flew to Professor McGonagall?” You queried as you turned to face him again, placing your hand on your hip.

“Oh, psh, that old thing?” Sirius waved it off dismissively as he wrapped up with his task of watering the flowers. “Just a little piece of an opinion I’ve been meaning to tell her.” 

“And just what was it you were meaning to tell her?” 

Before he answered your question, he took the time to take his bandana off, wiping the sweat off his forehead with it. Then, he fixed his hair - running a hand through it and ruffling it up slightly. Inwardly, you had to admit, you almost forgot what you were talking about as you shamelessly watched him be… hot; and like he knew the effect it had on you—which he most likely did—he smirked at you. Again. 

“I told her that dogs were better than cats,” Sirius smiled wickedly. 

You gasped in horror. “No, you did not.” 

“Oh, yes I did,” He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know how she feels about cats, Sirius!” 

“Precisely the point, darling.”

To some, it would seem like something off of a controversial debate, like if pineapples belong on pizza for example. But to everyone who really knew Professor McGonagall well, saying things like that was just a recipe for disaster—with disaster meaning serving detention, of course.

“No wonder you ended up here,” You shook your head in disbelief at him. 

“Buuut, like I said, it’s not so bad here,” Sirius opposed, untying his apron from the back and behind his neck. “Plus, I’ve got good company.” He winked at you before hanging the apron on one of the hooks attached to the wall of the greenhouse.

You didn’t— no, couldn’t reply to him, seeing how you were caught off guard with what he said. But it wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t good company for you, no. There was never a dull moment with him by your side. In fact, if it were someone else you were stuck with in detention, you wouldn’t have agreed with him earlier that serving it wasn’t so bad. And frankly speaking, if serving detention just meant extra time to hang out with Sirius Black, then you wouldn’t mind disrupting the peace and quiet of class hours every now and then.

Though that would certainly look bad on your report cards, so you mentally chastise yourself for even entertaining the thought. But you couldn’t deny that there was some truth behind it, at least. Or more than some.

“Let me walk you home?” Sirius asked as he regarded you with a certain gentleness in his grey eyes. You felt like melting on the spot, right then and there, as he lingered by the doorway to the greenhouse, waiting for your answer. 

But you managed to pull yourself together, and smiled at him. “Sure.”

—

On some days, you would have just taken the school bus home, and Sirius would have just gone on his motorbike. Though in the past, he’d asked you countless times if he could give you a ride home, of course, because it was quicker and more cost-efficient than taking the public transport. But with the way your face blanched at his offering, and the way you kept spewing facts upon facts about how motorbike riding was dangerous (Sirius tried to reassure you that it wasn’t for very obvious reasons), he settled for walking you home instead. 

While that had quickly become an almost regular occurrence for the both of you, Sirius always made sure to ask you first, despite the fact that he would have to go back for his motorbike parked at the school after. Knowing this, you tried very hard to kindly refuse him at first. But over time, you found yourself saying yes without a second thought.

At the same time, you refrain yourself from giving it much thought. It was simply a kind gesture from a really good friend of yours, and that was that. 

A devilishly handsome, fiercely loyal, and incredibly caring… friend of yours. 

Walking home with Sirius never fails to make you feel better after a long day at school. The both of you are instantly engaged in meaningful conversation, debriefing the events that occurred during the day. You like to think it’s a mandatory routine by how often you do it, how often it happens, and how natural it feels. It’s definitely one of, or maybe the best way to de-stress and relax after spending a whole day just studying and working. 

If only he could keep the teasing to a minimum, though. 

“I’m just saying, you know,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly as he walked beside you. “You didn’t have to laugh that hard.” 

You scoff in disbelief, the sarcastic reply bubbling up in your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked it whenever I laugh at your jokes?” 

“Never said I didn’t, love,” He responded, voice softening at the term of endearment used. “But you could’ve been saved from Minnie’s wrath if you hadn’t done that evil cackle of yours that you call a ‘laugh.’” Sirius chuckled slightly as he spoke, reminding you both of your embarrassment. 

“Okay, first of all, rude,” You shot him a half-hearted glare, a smile threatening to come alive on your lips. “And second of all, it’s your fault that I accidentally laughed out loud during class.”

Sirius scoffed immediately, taking full offense as he turned away from you. “‘Accidentally,’ she says.” 

“What? It’s true!” 

“So I suspect you must have ‘accidentally’ found me funny, too?” He air-quoted. 

You let out a sigh, feeling exasperated and slightly frustrated by his consistently witty replies. It seemed like Sirius never ran out of energy when it came to your banter, filled with incessant teasing (coming from Sirius himself most of the time, of course) and lighthearted jabs at each other. But even with your patience increasingly wearing thin with him, you found yourself looking forward to the banter every time. In spite of his knack for getting on your nerves more often than not, you liked sharing it with him. It was almost as if it was something only you and Sirius shared - intimate and unique to your dynamic.

“Whatever, Sirius,” You settled for a dismissive response eventually, rolling your eyes as you did so. Though you knew that he would take the piss out of you again for your lack of a snarky retort.

But to your surprise, the boy only chuckled in amusement, kicking a few pebbles and leaves out of the way as the two of you continued to walk. You didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a likely thing for people to do when they walk on sidewalks riddled with objects in the way. 

(But little did you know about Sirius’ true intentions, though.)

After a moment of comfortable silence, you decided to speak up again. 

“Hey, so I was wondering—”

Sirius interrupts with a snort of laughter. “When are you not?” “Please shut up and let me finish.” “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he said. Though with the ever so present smirk on his face, and the hint of mirth in his eyes, you couldn’t tell if he was truly sorry. “What were you wondering about in that pretty head of yours?” You paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase your question. Sirius gave you a brief glance, curious about what you were thinking of that had you pondering like this.

“Why’d you do it?” You finally blurted out.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that for me, love.”

Sirius earns the sweet sound of your chuckling, and he zeroes in on the slight flush that appeared on your cheeks, betraying your embarrassment.

“I’m talking about earlier, Sirius. During Physics? When you flew that paper plane to McGonagall?”

His lips formed an O shape as he came to the realization of what you were referring to. And as if the reminder was nothing but a lighthearted one, Sirius snickered to himself.

“And? What about that?” 

You sigh, internally wondering how on earth he could find such a thing so amusing. Sure, perhaps Professor McGonagall had developed some sort of fondness or a soft spot for Sirius over the years he’d acted against her in his mischief. But the fact still remained that McGonagall was not to be taken lightly to, especially not during her class. 

“I was just wondering why you would do such a thing. I mean.. it was certainly unprovoked, don’t you think?” 

“‘Unprovoked,’ you say? Is that what you really think?” 

There’s a shift in his tone this time around when he spoke, though there still remained the unmistakable, and ever so present hint of a tease in his voice. You studied his face intently as you thought of a response. 

“Yeah. I mean, whatever did you do that for?” 

Sirius sighed, though you couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration with you or exasperation. “Didn’t I tell you already? I did it for you, you daft woman.” 

You resist the urge to scoff at his remark of you being a supposed daft woman. “I thought you were just messing with me there when you said that.”

“‘Messing with you?’ Why would I—“ He cut himself off with another sigh. 

Oh, so he’s frustrated, you realized. 

“You know, for someone whose mind runs a thousand miles per hour, you can be really clueless sometimes.” 

You let yourself scoff by then, feeling indignant. “What are you on about now?” 

Sirius almost smirked at your words, and you knew that by the twitch at the corner of his lips. You tear your eyes away from them, focusing on his eyes instead. 

“Come on, you’re a smart girl. Surely, you know why I did that, and why I risked detention?”

Deep down, you had an inkling as to what he was telling you. But you refused to acknowledge it aside from the fact that it was downright ridiculous. After all, you firmly believed yourself to be out of Sirius Black’s league. Your dynamic was synonymous to one of those Paramore songs that went, “He was a punk, she did ballet. Can I make it anymore obvious?” 

And as if he could read you, and sense your inner thoughts, Sirius sighed for what seemed like the nth time of that moment. Though now it had sounded almost… sad? 

“Shall I spell it aloud for you, then?” He broke the silence, his voice deeper and tinged with seriousness. 

“Yes.” Please. For my own sake. 

He takes a deep breath first, although the both of you didn’t know for what exactly. But it felt like it was necessary for Sirius, and so—

“I did it for you, ‘cause,” He paused, seemingly trying to push the words out of his mouth. Why he was forcing them out, you didn’t know. “What friends are for, right?” 

Well, admittedly, that kind of stung you inside. For a moment—a fleeting, hopeful moment—you wanted Sirius to say that he did it for you, and that was that. Just for you. For the sake of keeping you company, and letting it be up for interpretation on whether it was done under platonic intentions or… not. 

“Yeah,” You nodded, mentally chastising yourself for ever expecting such a thing. “What friends are for.” 

Sirius is looking at you pensively, noticing a hint of your disappointment in the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and in the way you looked away from him as you replied. He wondered why.

But, ever the one to cheer his friends up, Sirius clears his throat to catch your attention, his grey eyes glittering with mirth. 

“And besides,” he added. “You would’ve gone mad if you served detention all alone. You’re kind of a danger to yourself here, love.” He ruffled your hair playfully as he said this, eliciting a smile from you. 

“Hey! It doesn’t get that bad, you know,” You defend yourself, fixing your hair with your fingers. Sirius helps you out by tucking the wayward strands of hair, covering your face, behind your ear. 

He snickered. “Trust me, love. I know how bad it can get.” 

In truth, Sirius has always found it endearing—your knack for getting a little lost in your head more often than not. But he was also one of those people who wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you, to tell you to give yourself a damn break. So, he’ll take any chance to distract you from your thoughts. And if that meant angering McGonagall and serving detention, he didn’t mind at all. 

The rest of your walk home goes easily after that, the lighthearted atmosphere returning despite the momentary shift to the slightest, almost imperceptible indication to the feelings you harbored for each other—though unacknowledged on both sides of the party in fear of losing the other.

Although, Sirius suspects that he’ll be brave enough for the both of you one day to bring these feelings into light. 

In the meantime, he’ll let you get away with your acting aloof and coy about it. He’ll gladly wait until you’re ready to hear what he’s always wanted to tell you. 

So, as the two of you bask in the orange hue of the afternoon sun, walking down the path to your home, you don’t realize that it’s only a few steps away until you’ve reached your destination. You were getting carried away (again) with ranting about tomorrow’s quizzes, and Sirius is trying (again) to calm your anxieties, and reassure you. 

At the very same time, he realizes the increasing distance between the two of you and your home. He doesn’t make a move to tell you, and you simply don’t notice.

( ♡ )

[the-most-humble-blog]

<!-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION --> <div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta survival-rate="100% human brutality"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="ZOMBIE_APOCALYPSE_DISMANTLED_REALITY_001"</script>

🧟‍♂️ HATE TO BURST YOUR ZOMBIE-HORDING BUBBLE (But in real life? Y’all wouldn’t be fighting zombies. You’d be laughing while smoking ‘em.)

I know. You’ve got it all planned out. Your Zombieland fantasy. Your Walking Dead cosplay lifestyle. You think when it all goes to hell, you'll become Daryl Dixon overnight with a crossbow, fingerless gloves, and a stone-cold thousand-yard stare while a horde of the undead moans outside your fortified Bass Pro Shop.

You think the power grid collapses, the government falls, and you're out here eating canned beans off a bayonet while fighting off literal corpses in a trench coat made of riot gear.

Sounds cute.

But here’s the truth: Real humans? Are good at killing. Like, insanely good at killing.

If zombies were real?

They wouldn't overrun us. We'd annihilate them so fast it’d make a wildlife conservationist cry.

🔪 REALITY CHECK #1: HUMANS ARE SERIAL KILLERS WITH A CONSCIENCE We’ve survived wolves, tigers, plagues, warlords, each other, and countless extinction events.

We built religions, bombs, and air fryers. We survived the Ice Age without pants. You think a moaning meth-head with half a jaw is going to end civilization?

Please.

If anything, humans would treat zombies like pests.

Neighborhood watch groups would turn into hunting parties. Suburbs would form kill leagues. TikTok would be flooded with #ZombTok tutorials for machete sharpening and viral trends like “How I cleared my HOA of 47 rotters in under 2 minutes.”

🔫 REALITY CHECK #2: MODERN MILITARY + 72 HOURS = GENOCIDE Let’s do the math.

Even at modest mobilization, the U.S. military has:

1.2 million active-duty troops

393 million civilian-owned firearms

6,500+ main battle tanks

Drones that can see your heat signature from space

And bunker-crushing MOABs that can turn an entire infected city block into glass.

You're telling me slow, unarmed, rotting pedestrians are going to outmaneuver trained sociopaths with night vision and air support?

Zombies wouldn’t even make it to Day 4.

🧠 REALITY CHECK #3: ZOMBIES HAVE SHIT TACTICS Let’s break down zombie strategy:

Moan

Walk toward sound

Bite if lucky

That’s it.

No stealth. No camouflage. No coordinated attacks. Just moist gurgling in traffic.

In real life, they’d be sniped, burned, tased, trapped, dumped into pits, run over, and exploited for sport within the first 48 hours.

We’d have entire YouTube channels dedicated to zombie obliteration ASMR. Merch drops. Fan cams. Season passes.

They wouldn't be "winning." They’d be streamed in 4K and monetized to death.

🏹 REALITY CHECK #4: REDNECKS, MILITIA DADS, AND DIY PSYCHOS WOULD GET BORED Every town’s got at least one guy who owns 19 guns “for raccoons,” built a bunker “just in case,” and jerks off to Joe Rogan podcasts.

You really think he’s not ready?

That dude would have the entire county cleared by breakfast and still be asking:

“So uh… when does the real war start?”

And don’t even get me started on rural communities. They’d treat the apocalypse like a church barbecue with kill scores.

🧬 OBSCURE, HORRIFYINGLY TRUE FACTS:

Genghis Khan’s forces wiped out 11% of the global population with horses, bows, and zero antibiotics.

Ants have been known to build bridges out of their dead. Humans? We built civilizations out of stacked skulls.

The average human has enough jaw strength to bite off a finger— but won’t, because society told us not to. Take away the rules? You think we won't bite back?

☣️ THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE YOU ENVISION = THE SHORTEST MASSACRE IN HISTORY Zombies wouldn’t last long enough for a plot twist. They’d be rounded up like cattle, studied, and pit-fought for betting apps.

There’d be sponsorship deals. Limited-edition zombie sneakers. Fashion lines called “Rot Couture.”

Half of Hollywood would star in zombie hunting reality shows before the midterms. Netflix would greenlight 13 documentaries and a prequel drama.

You’d be scrolling Twitter in a recliner while the last pack of infected gets bulldozed by a retired oil tycoon on Twitch.

🩸 SO WHY DO WE LOVE ZOMBIES? Because they give us permission to fantasize about clean violence. No guilt. No consequences. Just mowing down monsters that used to be your boss.

But in real life? You wouldn't be scared. You’d be desensitized by lunch.

The real horror isn't the undead. It's how efficient we are at erasing them.

🧃 TL;DR?

You want a zombie apocalypse because deep down, you want an excuse to unleash the part of yourself society made you leash.

But sorry to burst your fantasy: it wouldn’t be survival. It would be slaughter.

And humans? We’d be too good at it.

So good that by Week Two, we’d be lobbying Congress to put zombies on an endangered species list.

---

📦 This post—and other brutal truth payloads—will join the vault soon. Because some fantasies need to be corrected with statistical violence and sociological fire.

The Patreon archive awaits. You're welcome.

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[narcisokim]

Morning sex with Quackity

versão em português no meu blog 😉

Word count:** 4k+

**Warnings:** BDSM, reader calls Alex "Sir," chest biting, blood kink, cum play, submissive reader, Alex is very mean, but he calls you sunshine 🤧

--- The sunrise was overwhelmingly bright, casting a warm and peaceful atmosphere over the noisy city center—except for a luxurious hotel room in one of the tallest buildings in town. After all, the room had floor-to-ceiling windows covering almost two entire walls, forming an inverted L and offering a breathtaking view.

Even though most of the stunning scenery was hidden behind large white blinds, the first golden rays of sunlight still streamed in, painting the entire room in a beautiful golden hue. As the light grew more insistent, the girl slowly woke up amidst a sea of white sheets and soft pillows.

She stretched lazily, sighing with her eyes still closed, almost refusing to accept that it was already morning. She lay still for long minutes, savoring the softness of the bed against her bare skin, even though she was bruised in some places from the previous night’s activities. Still, it was a delicious and soothing sensation, lulling her back toward sleep. But just as she was about to drift off again, she heard a soft thud at the door and quick footsteps moving around.

For a moment, she was confused but too sleepy to even open her eyes. Unexpectedly, the familiar scent of coffee mixed with freshly baked bread joined the sunlight, filling the room and awakening her senses, making her finally stir—hungry. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the golden light as she forced herself to sit up, shifting her hips back and settling in the middle of the still-warm bed.

And then she saw him.

Breathtaking, with his glossy black hair perfectly contrasting against the sunrise, his bare torso sculpted like that of a Greek god, and the strong arms she loved so much. Alex was so beautiful that if she had been any sleepier, she might have mistaken him for Apollo himself. She watched as he arranged the breakfast table, carefully placing items from a cart onto the delicate table near the window. She smiled, warmth flooding her chest, almost overflowing with the love she felt.

*"Good morning, Lex..."* she whispered, her voice still hoarse as she stretched. The man immediately turned toward her, realizing she was awake, and smiled lovingly—after all, their love was mutual. *"Good morning, my sunshine,"* he said, sounding almost silly as he strode over to the bed, climbing on top of her and pinning her down, laughing at her surprised reaction. With a grin, he kissed her—soft and gentle at first, their tongues sliding together slowly as he caressed her peach-soft cheek with his thumb.

Her hands slid over his muscular back, her touches light at first but soon turning into desperate scratches as the kiss deepened, becoming hungry and frantic.

What else could you expect from a newlywed couple?

Long minutes later, when both were breathless and aching, grinding desperately against each other, Alex suddenly pulled away from her delicious lips. She tried to follow, not wanting to let go, but he gripped her neck firmly, pushing her back against the mattress with a hint of roughness, making her exhale in frustration.

*"Enough... I know I’m irresistible, but I’m hungry,"* he teased with a smirk, his hand sliding from her neck to her full left breast, pinching her nipple hard and forcing her to arch against the bed to relieve the pressure. *"Babe... take it easy, that hurts,"* she whined, trying to squirm away once he released her now-sensitive nipple.

But he just pushed her shoulders back down, holding her in place while watching her indignant reactions with amusement. *"Didn’t you say you were hungry? Well, so am I... let’s go? It smells amazing."* She glanced distractedly at the lavish table, her mouth watering, but when she tried to get up again, the brunette held her firmly in place. *"Alex—"* He just let out a low laugh, thrilled by how easily she got irritated when hungry—and taking advantage of that was too delicious an opportunity to pass up. So he lowered himself completely, pressing his lips to her left ear and growling:

*"You’re so soft and sweet, I just want to bite you all over and make you my breakfast, you know? I want you wet and melting for me..."* His words were like a tranquilizer, instantly dissolving her irritation. She smiled, pushing her hunger aside as arousal flared inside her again. But then he warned: *"If you call me ‘Alex’ again, I’ll make you ten times more bruised than last night, and I swear you won’t get near food until dinner."* Each word sent a thrill through her submissive core, and she shuddered, her smile fading—because she knew his threat was real.

*"Sorry, Sir... I’ll behave and make sure you’re completely satisfied,"* she murmured suggestively against his ear, sending a wave of excitement through him. *"You better."* He looked into her eyes before lowering his gaze to her tempting nipples. He took her left breast in his right hand, squeezing it while licking his lips, but paused just as he was about to lean down. *"It’s fine if you cry, scream, and tremble... but don’t try to stop me or squirm too much."*

Before she could even respond, he latched onto her breast, sucking greedily and flicking his tongue over the areola. Her core clenched in excitement at his touch, and she moaned, closing her eyes and biting her lips as she enjoyed the sensation. At first, she had been slightly wary of his warnings, but it all felt so good that she couldn’t help but relax as her dom savored her soft flesh, alternating between her breasts.

Gently, she ran her fingers through his silky black hair, giving him a tender scalp massage that made him look up at her mid-suck, his eyes filled with love and lust. Alex was breathing heavily, his cock hard and leaking pre-cum, staining his boxers. With a subtle movement, he positioned himself between her legs and pressed his covered length against her wet, throbbing pussy, grinding to tease her and relieve some of his own tension.

The friction made them both even more flushed and tense, panting and completely lost in each other. Then, as if shifting into a new phase, Alex suddenly bit down on her right nipple with disproportionate force, tugging at it with his teeth while squeezing her breast brutally. She let out a breathless scream, completely unprepared. In desperation, she grabbed his hair, trying to pull him off, but their eyes met, and she immediately relaxed her grip, sensing the silent warning.

So he continued torturing her—biting her right nipple hard, scraping it with his teeth as if chewing, while his right hand pinched and twisted her left nipple, pulling and twisting the areola mercilessly. She whimpered in pain, her cries turning into choked sobs as she trembled under the torment. He only intensified his sadistic touches, still grinding against her.

Little by little, her breasts grew redder from the bites and pinches, and when she glanced at the untouched breakfast table, her stomach growled. The mix of hunger and excruciating pain was unbearable. She bit her own hand, trying to muffle her cries as tears streamed down her face, the smell of coffee taunting her. Then Alex bit her left nipple so hard that a thick stream of warm blood spilled into his mouth.

The metallic taste drove him wild, and he sucked harder, drawing out more blood as she screamed in pain, trembling violently and sobbing uncontrollably while clutching a pillow. It took a few more minutes before he finally released her with a wet pop and lay down beside her. She didn’t even react, still crying almost hysterically, staring at the table with red, swollen eyes as tears rolled down her flushed face and soaked the bed.

*"Get up and come sit here, sweetness. I’m not done with you yet,"* he ordered with a smirk, a tiny smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, ignoring her pitiful sobs. *"I want you to ride my face until you come in my mouth so I can taste all your honey."* Her crying stopped instantly, and she stared at him, still red-faced. *"As you wish, Sir,"* she declared cheerfully, getting up as if nothing had happened, earning a loud laugh in response.

She carefully swung her left leg over his head and lowered herself onto his face, gasping as his hot, wet tongue delved inside her without hesitation. Alex circled her clit, sucking gently while kissing her inner lips and nuzzling her throbbing pussy, savoring her taste. His hands rested on her thighs, stroking her goosebumped skin.

She moaned loudly, her hips moving slowly as she squeezed her bruised breasts, intoxicated by the mix of pain and pleasure. Looking down, she lost her breath at the sight of Alex’s bare chest and his boxers, soaked with pre-cum, hiding his delicious cock. She ran her hands over his warm skin, tracing his tattoo and clenching around his tongue.

Her hands drifted lower, toward his boxers, and she licked her lips, eager to taste him. But when she squeezed his hard length through the fabric, his reaction wasn’t what she expected. He groaned but grabbed her wrist, pulling it away. *"I want to focus on you, sunshine... but if you want to use those hands, do it differently."* He guided her wrist to his neck, and she smiled when she understood.

First, she caressed his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before wrapping her hands around his neck, squeezing the sides to restrict his airflow—but leaving his windpipe partially free, varying the pressure. He moaned, his oral ministrations never stopping, growing even more turned on by the light asphyxiation.

Minutes passed, and she grew closer to her orgasm, riding his face as he licked and sucked relentlessly, driving her wild. She moaned and trembled, lost in pleasure, until she finally came, squeezing his neck hard as she shook and writhed above him. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her gasping and moaning, her veins standing out as she shuddered through her climax.

When his tongue became too much, she collapsed beside him, twitching uncontrollably. Alex turned and kissed her cheek softly, running his fingers through her hair as he waited for her to recover. Still trembling, she turned to him and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips as she slid her hand over his defined chest.

Their tongues tangled lazily as they exchanged slow caresses, until she finally slipped her hand into his boxers and took his hard, hot cock in her grip, stroking him firmly the way he liked. Alex was flushed and panting, his muscles tense as he devoured her swollen lips, his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. His left hand wandered over her waist, gripping her flesh as he grew more and more aroused.

Just before he came, he pulled away and stood up, quickly removing his boxers before walking over to the breakfast table. She watched, confused and curious, sitting at the edge of the bed in silence. When he returned, he carried a medium-sized bowl of sliced strawberries, a spoon, and a large piece of soft bread. *"I must say, my breakfast has been absolutely delicious... but it’d be cruel of me not to feed you after letting me savor you whole, don’t you think?"* he said theatrically, placing the bowl on the bed.

Before she could respond, he held the bread to her mouth, urging her to take a bite. They each bit opposite ends, eating slowly together—but before they reached the middle, he pulled her legs up, spreading them and positioning himself between them, thrusting into her suddenly. He started slow but quickly picked up speed, fucking her fast and deep as they continued eating.

It was all so sudden, but she ate hungrily between moans, the pleasure mixing with the taste of bread. Alex groaned, careful not to choke, but he was clearly loving the scene—probably one of his many kinks making it even hotter. When they finished the bread, he kissed her deeply, pounding into her with relentless force, sweat beading on his forehead as he trembled with pleasure.

She wasn’t far behind, still sensitive from her earlier orgasm, clenching around him as he fucked her harder. Soon, he groaned loudly, pulling out just before he came and stroking himself quickly.

*"On your knees now... and hold the bowl. I’m close,"* he ordered, his voice rough. She obeyed instantly, kneeling before him and lifting the bowl of strawberries.

Please, sir... I really want to eat strawberries with milk. - She asked slyly, with a naughty smile on her face.And then he reached his climax, moaning loudly and extremely blushing, cumming in the bowl .

When he finished, the girl took a piece of strawberry covered in warm white sperm with the spoon and tasted it, looking him in the eyes.Bon appetit, sunshine. - The man said, bending down to her to pick up the spoon and offer her a generous spoonful, which she took with eagerness and greed, drawing a smile from the corner of her mouth.

Then another spoonful and another.Alex had spent the entire previous day eating extremely carefully so that the moment would be as pleasant as possible, therefore, the sperm had an almost neutral taste.She let out a long sigh of satisfaction, enjoying her breakfast, chewing and swallowing each strawberry as if they were the most delicious that I had already eaten.

The dark-haired man looked at her with mischief and a roguish smile, watching each spoonful carefully.Finally, when she was finished, she licked every last bit of cum from the bowl and looked up, looking at him with a smile.

-Thank you very much, sir... the breakfast was delicious.

[inkofimagination]

clouded confessions

late night smoke session turns into some feelings being revealed.

shy!hasan heheh

word count: 4k

-

“Boo, no,” came the quiet exasperated sigh through your lips. You shook your head with a frown, and stared down at the crazed page before you; scribbles of your notes that seemed to only get progressively more snappy. The sight only made the simmering agitation in your chest closer to its near-boiling point. You bit your lip, and squinted your eyes at the page. Maybe if you stared incredulously at it long enough, it would burn to ash.

This shit was truly too tiring for you.

Another sigh, it felt like that was all you were doing, huffing endless long breaths. You loved your job, really, cherished it too close to your heart. And it was all trial and error, you knew this. but fuck, it was tiring. The disappointment and anger that forms when you aren’t satisfied with your results are enough to doubt everything. And no one likes that feeling. The feeling of losing that grasp and love for your passion.

No one liked feeling the fear of not being good enough either.

You pushed your hair behind your ears, and with your eyes still on the page, you readjusted yourself so you were now lying on your stomach. Huffed as you settled with the paper in your grasp, and with one more quick scan of the notes, you felt the displeasure plaguing you only grow. You picked it up with narrowed eyes, and roughly crumpled it, tossing it across the room.

See how exhausting this is? 

Today was a bad day, a grumpy day. You never liked those. You rather liked the days when you found enjoyment through your craft, the days when you could just fucking blaze through the cases without a

You were pretty sure you were beginning to see red. Maybe you were possessed because you were starting to feel the urge to smash your pretty head against the wall many, many times.

You rested your head in your arms with a small frown, and huffed. Deciding that, yes, going to bed would be best. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

You stared at the door and pursed your lips. The good lawyer and bad lawyer in your head were currently having a nasty debate. Go to bed and come back tomorrow with a fresh start or stay, and continue to get progressively angrier. The bad lawyer was sorely losing. 

The disappointment towards your work tonight was beginning to make you feel rather sad, instead of angry. And with that, you rapidly decided that it was, indeed, time to go to bed. 

You braced yourself before pushing yourself up, and sitting in a kneeling position. It was uncomfortable, the hard floor wasn’t all that kind to your legs, it actually rather hurt. You took a moment to brush your jean-covered legs before actually standing.

As you packed up, you began to zone out and get lost in thought. Whilst closing the case and reaching to clasp each buckle closed, a soft, nearly impossible-to-hear knock interrupted your actions. 

You were staying at your friends Hasan’s house at the moment because he was kind enough to let you stay due to your apartment being renovated.

Your hands stilled, and you looked over to the door with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, thoroughly convinced he was asleep after his long stream.

The door opened, and you tilted your head a bit to get a glance at the unexpected guest. When the sight of a cheeky, sheepish smile came into your vision, you had to let out a soft laugh. He only smiled wider at the sound and looked down to hide it. “Hi, Hasan,” you said, looking away from his shy form to get back to your earlier activity of packing up your things. 

Hasan Piker. You two became best friends not very long ago, but he was something else. You didn’t know what, but you knew you did really, really like Hasan. Strange, but he was the easiest person to talk to despite the fact you two very opinionated people. You could sit with him for hours and just talk about the weirdest things that have no relevance whatsoever.

“Hi, what are you up to this late at night, hm?” he walked in, shutting the door behind him and curiously looked at the various crumpled balls scattered across the room. 

You let out a small ‘shit’, his short look at your mess acted as a reminder that you probably should tidy it up. Placing your case full of documents back on the ground, you paced over to each of the white papers, gathering them in your arms. “Well,” you huffed, “i was going to get to the bottom of this case, but it didn’t really go the way i wanted it to…” 

Softly smiling at your mumbled words, he walked over and quickly picked up the rest (the majority) of the papers. “What about you, cheeky boy?” you asked in return, dumping the crumpled balls into the trash. Behind you, he grinned at the nickname. Always smiling when around you, he was. You looked up at him as he came to stand next to you, following your earlier actions. He brushed his hands and turned back to you with a hum, “Couldn’t sleep, ‘nd heard you shuffling around,” he tilted his head at you rubbing your eyes. 

A sheepish ‘Oh’, passed your lips, “sorry if i woke you, war’, thought i was being quiet,” 

He shook his head at your murmur, and waved a hand with a small smile, “You can’t wake someone who wasn’t sleeping in the first place darling, don’t worry about it,” he wasn’t lying either, really. Even his perfect sleeping schedule gets messed up due many thoughts of his.

Nodding, you bounded over back to your case and picked it up again.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go to bed now, thanks for helping me tidy up,” you grinned softly at him, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hasan,” 

“See you tomorrow, sweets,” came his gentle reply, still standing there like a moron just watching you. He considered stopping, not wanting to seem like a creep, but ultimately those considerations were put to rest within two seconds. Maybe he could play it off well enough. You had to have known he had a crush on you, and he knew it. He’s such a sweetie towards you, bless him, but not subtle whatsoever. 

You gave him one last pretty smile before walking to the door, and just as you were about to open it, your hand ready on the handle, you stopped. You pursed your lips as a thought passed your brain, and raised your eyebrows with a hum. “Do you wanna smoke?” 

You don’t smoke weed often but when your stress is going through the roof sometimes it is the only thing that helps.

A beat of silence. 

“Fuck yeah, man.”

                                                          *

“Y’know, i love your hair,” 

You gently whispered, twirling a soft dark brown strand between your fingers, and surveyed his face. His eyes were closed, and his body was so relaxed you would have thought he was sleeping. Maybe he was, you didn’t know any better. Hasan had his head in your lap, the rest of his body slung across your bed. You had been playing with his hair for the past 15 minutes. Once you started, he’d gone completely silent and shut his eyes. Maybe he really was sleeping. 

He absentmindedly hummed in return, and you smiled at the sound. With one hand in his hair, you picked up the joint from the ashtray set on your bedside table, and took a puff. “It may possibly be even better than mine, i must say,” you declared, placing the joint in Hasan’s expectant hand. 

At your words, he scoffed dramatically, shaking his head. He took his own puff, before battling your words with his own. “No way girl, are you fucking kidding me?” he exhaled with a scrunched face, making sure to turn away from you as the smoke trailed out of his mouth.

“I’m fully serious,” 

He passed the joint back to you with a floppy arm, and you reached over to place it back in its respectful seat in your ashtray. “Nonsense,” he murmured, closing his eyes once again as you played with his hair. 

“You’re so pretty,” at his whispered words, your hands, where they were making a small braid in his mane, ceased their movement. the sweet compliment was unexpected, and truthfully, popped up out of nowhere. You pouted down at him, feeling your heart swell at his words. Maybe he was sleeping and dreaming about someone. “Hasan, your eyes are closed, y’know,” he reluctantly opened his baggy, bloodshot eyes, and looked at you. 

“Nuh-uh, not anymore they aren’t,” his eyes surveyed your face and he nodded to himself with finality. You cheekily smiled, nearly gushing, “Hasan Piker got a li’l crush on me?” you cooed, untangling your hands from his hair to pinch his cheeks. 

He tiredly pushed your hands away with a hidden smile, you quietly laughed to yourself. You felt adoration fill your chest. Really, that pestering anger inhabiting your heart before had melted away as soon as your cheeky boy had popped up on the other side of that door. He didn’t even need to do anything, he didn’t even need to know that you weren’t having a good day, or time, or whatever. Hasan Piker just had to be himself to make you practically beam like the sun. 

He had a crush on you? you had a crush on him. a big one too. 

You clicked your tongue as he turned his head away from you, and you rested one hand on his chest and the other on the top of his head. Hasan had a smile covering his face, but he was shying away. You couldn’t believe it, you made the Hasan Piker shy. What a night!

“Stop it,” his voice was partially muffled into your lap, and you brought a hand up to your lips. The big smile on your face felt permanent. “You got a crush on me?” came your voice again, this time quieter, not as teasing—just as filled with adoration. He wiggled around, still groaning. 

You lightly tapped his cheek, a silent ‘look at me,’ passing from you to him. a small smile was glued to your face as Hasan turned, brown eyes landing on your beaming face—to which he grinned.

That stupid grin stayed on his face as you raised your eyebrows at him and kept eye contact, whilst he looked away and gazed at the ceiling instead. He wanted to keep eye contact with you, it was a continuous challenge between you two. He never lasted more than ten seconds.

You let out a sigh, and looked away as well, trying to pull yourself together. Feared you were having a heart attack with how fast it was beating. The remnants of smoke clouding the air and your lungs only seemed to intensify your feelings—which were already so much. You didn’t know it, but he felt the same. maybe even more so.  

“Shit, can you blame me though?” he exclaimed, sitting up. You jumped as he nearly knocked heads with you. Even he didn’t expect this, earlier before his mouth betrayed him.

God, you plagued his mind, and it just slipped out. Really, you were like a stubborn piece of gum stuck to the side of his brain, it was frustrating. Hasan was a complete ladies’ man, and knew his way around the female anatomy like he was a master in the art.

He loved women, went crazy for them but there was just something about you, that made him ache. You were so, so, so pretty, and carried such an abnormally beautiful soul with you everywhere you went. You were passionate in what you did, you were kind, and god damn, you were too fucking funny. You’re so much. too much. Hasan was a very confident man, a charmer, never afraid to speak his mind. Then there’s you, making him feel like a little girl crushing on Harry Styles. 

Cheesy as fuck. 

“I mean—you’re crazy, girl. Literally a fucking angel, it’s ridiculous,” Hasan mumbled to himself, more ranting than anything. He gaped for a few seconds, trying to gather the words on his tongue. You folded your lips into your mouth as you watched him begin his big confession.

“Listen, i’ve met women, right? Many, many women, men even! A lot of people!” you had to hide a laugh behind your hand at his words, “but you, ah–,” he snapped his fingers and shook his head at you. 

“I am a confident man,” Hasan declared, pointing a hand at you. 

“Yes, you are,” 

After your small reply, he went quiet, still trying to figure out what it is he wants to say. He wasn’t about to say he loved you, no matter how much he wanted to, he was sober enough to know that that was a bit too much.

Hasan felt a lot towards you, you made him feel vulnerable, seen. You made him feel like a literal horde of butterflies were swarming his entire torso. You sometimes made him feel like he was dying, with the way you made his heart skip beats, or made it beat rapidly fast.

How does one convey that feeling without sounding clinically insane? I mean, sure, he’d been able to charm his way with the ladies before. But those ladies were different and you were something.

Something really important. It didn’t help that he was still high as fuck, so, he was relatively stumped on what to say—he did know that he wasn’t up for humiliating himself in front of you tonight. 

You bit your lip as you watched him struggle, you considered simply just saying ‘I know, i know, me too,’ to make this whole thing easier for him. But you wanted to give him the time to find it.

The man showed no signs of giving up, and therefore you kept quiet. You played with the rings decorating your fingers as he stayed groaning and shaking his head at the ceiling every so often.

Clearly, he was having a crisis. 

And just as you were about to say something, it came to him. Slowly, oddly—not the way he wanted it to, but he couldn’t exactly be picky, and he considered leaving this entire thing for later and instead writing you a letter. But, you didn’t seem like the type of girl to dig that and you were gazing at him expectantly, concernedly, he could feel it burning into the side of his face.

He never wanted to leave a crowd waiting. 

“Okay,” he turned to you with wide brown eyes, suddenly feeling a burst of energy. The relaxing effect of mary jane said its farewells, and Hasan, ever unaware in his state of mind, wondered if he had done cocaine instead, you felt like a drug to him. “You, pretty lady,” he huffed, “make me lose my mind, it’s unfair,” 

You raise your eyebrows at that, and let out a small laugh, but quiet down with a small smile once realizing he wasn’t done.

“You—and, as i stated before, a fucking angel, i mean come on,” he shrugged before reaching over and grabbing the joint from the ashtray again, Hasan figured he needed his heart rate to go down, relax a bit. He took a puff, grey smoke flowing out of his mouth in a long exhale, before continuing; “I like you a lot, darling. So much too, it kinda hurts a bit,” he placed the joint, now a stub, in the ashy part of its respectful tray.

You nearly melted, the smile on your face became a mere slightly gaped mouth and you thought your eyes were hearts, big red ones like from tom and jerry.

“Just something about you,” he let out a loud ‘whew’, waving an arm and sending you an exasperated look to which you couldn’t help but laugh prettily. And to Hasan, that sound was his fuel through this. This awkward confession that had been weighing him down the whole time he’d first seen you, this confession that he was convinced would make his chest burst eventually. You made it so easy for him, he didn’t care if he got rejected straight after or got laughed at, he still made you laugh.

Sleep, food, water, even fucking air was unnecessary, for the man believed he could live off of your joy and happiness forever. 

“You got me wrapped around your pretty little finger,” Hasan murmured.

He slumped and looked at you, starting to feel the insecurity kick in. So, he sighed and looked away, pulling a fresh joint from the small tin on the bed, and ignored your observing stare—despite the fact he desperately wanted to return the eye contact. 

You watched as he placed the joint between his lips, and you quickly crawled and snatched the zippo lighter you two shared off the bedside table, making it out of his reach. He still didn’t look at you, merely huffing with a small smile beginning to form on his face, and you had to grin at the sight.

You folded your lips into your mouth, and your eyes flickered around his face. You crawled over to him next, kneeling in front of his relaxed cross-legged form leaning against the headboard. 

Letting out a huff at his stubbornness to look at you, you raised a single eyebrow. He only looked away further. it was an odd sight, a vulnerable one, to see the ever-confident Hasan Piker, show shyness and insecurity. He felt exposed, to let his charming facade fall. 

You knelt forward and softly grabbed the side of his face, making him have no choice but look at you. to him, it felt like one of those scary fucking laboratory hypnosis sessions. Like his mind just stopped, and was consumed by you, you, you. You were overwhelming, like he couldn’t take a deep breath for a second.

Shit, he thought he might pass out when your hazed eyes flickered between his own, and soon landed on his lips for a split second. 

And he thought he might’ve died and been sent to heaven when you gently lifted his face to bring the lighter up to his lips and lit the joint still set between them. It was silent, aside from the soft breaths coming from each of you, and the crisp sound of the paper on the joint burning whilst he took an absent-minded puff. You watched as the joint burned orange, and proceeded to flick the lighter closed, and set it on the sheets. 

Truthfully, you seemed relaxed, and understanding, like you just knew. But you were so happy, nearly bursting on the inside. You weren’t quite sure how you were holding yourself together, you felt fully ready to fall apart. Just because of him. Hasan Piker, sure to be the death of you. 

You turned back to him, plucked the joint from his lips and brought it to your own. He watched with wide eyes as your soft lips wrapped around the white papers, and you took a hit. You weren’t looking at him anymore, rather simply looking down, and he was feeling a bit glad about it. Not because your eyes were so intense and burned into him just naturally–but because he was sure to truly lose his shit if you did. 

Grey smoke trailed out of your mouth and you turned back to him with a small smile, tilting your head. At the sight, Hasan let out a sigh, and lightly hit the back of his head against the headboard. “You’re so cute,” you quietly said, delightedly, and he groaned again and shook his head, bringing his hands up to cover his own smile. “God, don’t—” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Damn you, woman,” 

You beamed, and shuffled to grab his hands away from his face. With them in your grasp, you folded your digits with his and his closed eyes opened. Hasan looked at you exasperatedly feeling like a crazed man on a drug. You laughed, the sound ringing clear in his ears like the prettiest bell he ever heard. Again, he could listen to it for ages, like it was a lifeline. 

You gave him a knowing smile, released his hands, and readjusted yourself so you were even closer to him. You watched as he took a deep breath, processing the close proximity. Your heart skipped multiple beats as you brought both hands up to cup the sides of his neck, he sighed as you rubbed your manicured thumbs along his jawline. This beautiful man, you thought. You were disgustingly attracted to him, all of him. His entire fucking being. 

He was leaning forward towards you now as you hovered before him. To him, it felt like he was being drawn in, he looked back on his hypnosis thought. Your eyes flickered all across the other’s face, and he moved so you were now instead sitting in between his legs. Hasan, cheekily with a grin, placed his hands on your waist and you huffed a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his for a moment. It wasn’t lustful, it was the final buildup of all the unspoken attraction, love, and need between each other. It was sweet, sensual. 

He nudged his nose against yours, and he was so, so close. You two moved fluidly and teasingly, closely hovering over each other and chasing the other’s lips. It was like a dance, a silent, ‘you have me, now come get me,’. 

Oh, and the reward was legendary. You had your hopes and dreams, but this? It was difficult to describe just how much better it was in comparison. Your lips finally slotted together like puzzle pieces, and this time, you really did melt. Your shoulders slumped and with a broken exhale, you curved into him. He didn’t care, only softly laughed into your mouth and wrapped his arms around your waist tighter, holding you together, whilst you curved your arms around his neck. 

He was perfect, so much so, it ached. Your feelings toward him before this were like a game of tag, and endless chase, constantly seeking him out in everything you did; even subconsciously. The attraction kept you going, something to look for, to stay motivated for. But this? This was so much better, being able to have him right here. He was overwhelming all of your senses, you felt like you were drowning in him. You’d happily die this way. 

And Hasan? The man thought he was living a fantasy. He really didn’t know what the fuck was happening, if he had something unknown put in his coffee this morning that made him extra desirable in the eyes of others, especially towards someone like you. Yes, Hasan Piker—ladies’ man, but you were a princess in his eyes. Someone he did not deserve, could and should not have. But here you were, and you were perfect in every sense imaginable. An indescribable beauty was carried in all of you, and he adored all of it. 

Hasan, his mouth still on yours, ran his hands up your waist and flat on your back, only pushing you closer into him. God, you were so close, but he wanted more. Yes, he was already losing himself in you, but just a little more, just a little closer. He happily sighed into your mouth as one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other lightly scratched at the nape of his neck, and this time you were the one smiling. 

You had to reluctantly pull away to take a breath, and Hasan blinked his brown eyes open with a grin. He rested his head against yours, and drew gentle circles on the curve of your back. 

“Does that mean you’re into me too, pretty girl?”

[dnfao3tags]

Monthly Fic Roundup - February 2024

haven't been too active this month but here's your monthly recs!

as always, make sure to leave some love :]

— Turning Right on Red by jestbee (expl. | comp. | 4k) ; established relationship + car sex

George's stream has consequences.

— Drumroll, Please by starsgaze (snowdreamr) (gen | comp. | 5k) ; bed sharing + relationship study

Everything it is, and everything it isn’t. A proposal, of sorts. A half confession. Over all, the weight of wanting and the agony of bearing with it. Dream and George, deprived of meaning.

— GeorgeNotFound OnlyFans by Simplysmitten (expl. | comp. | 37k) ; sex work + secret identity

Fresh out of university and struggling to land a job in his field, George finds himself desperate for a way to make ends meet. While his friends have big dreams of blowing up on YouTube, George decides to make an OnlyFans profile. Shockingly, George goes viral on both platforms, making his money troubles a thing of the past, but maintaining his anonymity a constant worry. How funny is it that he manages to make a friend named Clay on both platforms?

— don't know how long it's going to take to feel okay (i had the best day with you today) by brokenlikeastitch (teen | comp. | 7k) ; dream's mom + established relationship

Three times George needed a mom and Dream's mom was there for him.

— what i wanted to hear by alisonsomething, dizzy (expl. | comp. | 3k) ; phone sex

George is in Los Angeles and Dream is in Florida. It’s not the first time they’ve been thousands of miles apart, and Dream can’t stop thinking about one very memorable conversation they had shortly before George’s visa was approved.

— Suction by tsundanire (expl. | comp. | 1k) ; nipple play

George trusts Dream completely. Trusts him enough with his most sensitive bits.

— wish that i could step into yours instead by Kore_Writes (teen | comp. | 12k) ; canon compliant + character study

A series of moments in Dream's life that George had always been there for him.

— he loves him more than anyone ever has in the history of man by brokenlikeastitch (teen | comp. | 14k) ; pov outsider

dream and george over the years through the perspectives of their friends

— the end of all things by womanhunt (teen | comp. | 9k) ; marriage (eloping)

“We should get married.” The words make Dream choke on the scrambled eggs in his mouth, and George just stares at him blankly as he coughs and takes a drink of his water. And, before he can overthink it, Dream gives in. “Ok, yeah. We should get married,” he nods to himself, reaching out to pull George’s hands apart and link their fingers together. “Did you mean, like, soon? Or?” “I mean, like, today.” George murmurs, eyes still not meeting Dream’s.

— my love by cqfnce (teen | comp. | 8k) ; patches the good cat

dream and george go last-minute shopping for patches' birthday

— daisies, daisies by snowdreamr (expl. | comp. | 15k) ; mpreg + future fic

On secrecy and patience. On learning how to embrace the unexpected.

— this is me trying by dizzy (teen | comp. | 5k) ; mental health issues + hopeful ending

Is this a cage? George's guts rebel against that, too. He fought to be here. This is the freedom from years of locking himself inside. He has no regrets. He doesn’t want anything to be different, except maybe that he could walk into a room without Dream or Sapnap looking at him like he’s not who they thought he was.

— Circling Back by Scoops (consciousness_streaming) (expl. | comp. | 15k) ; identity porn + coworkers

As a remote worker, George's only real friend at Pog Industries is Clay, the marketing genius who skyrocketed up the corporate ladder. Sure, maybe his work bestie is old and really bad at Fortnite, and they've never actually met, but they have each other's backs. And that's what's important. When a position on the Board opens up for George, it's Clay going to their CEO, Badboy Halo, to get him hired in the position. To George's amazement, it works. Now, he's moving to America the night before the infamous Pog Industries Christmas Party, and he's ready to put some names to faces.

— make a home on the cracks by lodestones (teen | comp. | 2k) ; baby fever + developing relationship

He’d be a good dad, Dream thinks—people are always telling him he’ll be good at it. It’s not anything all-consuming, but it’s a fantasy he still returns to every once in a while, dancing in the back of his mind whenever little kids approach him and ask for a picture. He catches himself daydreaming about it at least a thousand times more often after the first time he watches George interact with younger fans.

— George Not Found Is Stupid and Hides His Pregnancy From Dream For Two Whole Months by mario anon and apple anon (teen | comp. | 4k) ; mpreg

Hes pregnant it is all i know how to write

— executive session by dizzy (expl. | comp. | 1.7k) ; exhibitionism

Dream is a senate intern, and George is the guy he's about to fuck on the senate floor.

note: i've been fucking WAITING for someone to write a fic on this

— no thing's so sure that i can't learn to doubt it by brokenlikeastitch (teen | comp. | 11k) ; professors au

The closer he gets to George’s door, the louder the crying gets, and when he finally reaches the open doorway, he glances in to see a girl sitting across the desk from George, practically hyperventilating. In all of his years of teaching, with all of the students he’s had upset with him, Dream is pretty sure he’s never had a student this upset with him. He wonders if George is, like, torturing his students.

— The need to know by tsundanire (expl. | comp. | 5k) ; dick measuring

DRICK vs GRICK

— dear future husband by dizzy (expl. | comp. | 3k) ; breeding and housewife kink

Dream tells George that since he isn't paying rent he should at least be putting dinner on the table... and George decides to prove him right.

— it is not about me being gay with george by alisonsomething (teen | comp. | 2k) ; insecurity + miscommunication

Dream’s latest TikTok makes George angry enough to confront him about it.

— Honeysuckle Jam by gottagetshiver (expl. | comp. | 71k) ; omegaverse

George has terrible heats, he always has. He'd thought that after years of peace on suppressants, he's be done with them forever. It works, until it doesn't. The doctor says his best chance at fixing his terrible heats is having an alpha with him, and it just so happens that Dream is an alpha. It'll be easy, right? Dream will help him through his heat, and he'll be fixed. The fact that George is madly in love with Dream won't complicate matters at all, right? It won't upend their lives and throw them into chaos, right?

note: published last month but finished this month so im including it

[bitchiswild]

The Christmas Mission

Kim Chaewon x F!Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 4k

A/n: 👩‍👩‍👧🎄📝

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚

From the moment I took my first breath, my mom and mama cocooned me in an infinite embrace of love. Life with them was a kaleidoscope of joy—I lived in a world where everything was perfect. Our family might have been small, but in my eyes, it was an entire universe of happiness.

However, that world crumbled when they decided to part ways. I remember the day they sat me down, their voices laced with reassurance, explaining that they wouldn’t share the same home anymore. I was just a five-year-old then, and although they might've thought I didn't grasp the depth of their decision, I knew our lives were about to change irreversibly.

Their separation during those holiday seasons felt like a hurricane ripping through our traditions. Choosing between spending Thanksgiving or Christmas with mommy or mama was an impossible choice. It felt unfair because all I wanted was to see us together, laughing, and sharing those special moments.

So, I devised a plan, a beacon of hope I called The Christmas Mission. I knew deep in my seven-year-old heart that if I could bring them together again, our family could be whole once more. With determination blazing in my eyes, I reached out to Auntie Yunjin, using mama's phone for secrecy. She chuckled softly at my boldness but agreed to help. Auntie Yunjin and I both sensed an unspoken truth—deep within Mama's heart, there lingered a love that hadn't faded for Mommy. And so, The Christmas Mission was a go.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Throughout the entire year, I mulled over a meticulous plan, carefully orchestrating it with Auntie Yunjin's invaluable guidance. We decided to set the wheels in motion come September, giving us a precious three-month window to reunite Mommy and Mama.

My strategy was simple yet profound—I wanted Mommy and Mama to reminisce about their past together. Each night, just before bedtime, I would implore Mommy to share stories of their shared history, the moments that stitched their lives together. It was a chance for her to reflect on their beautiful past.

And when I was at Mama's house, I followed the same routine, coaxing her to delve into their cherished memories. Those stories were like fragments of a once-perfect puzzle, scattered but holding the promise of reunification.

"Mommy, can you tell me the story of how you knew you loved mama?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of anticipation and earnestness.

"Alina, I've recounted this tale to you countless times," Mommy replied, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

"I know, but I love it so much," I insisted, pouting slightly, hoping to nudge her into sharing the cherished memory once more.

"Alright, alright," Mommy relented with a smile, knowing she couldn't resist my plea. "It was during winter," she began, a nostalgic glimmer dancing in her eyes.

It was a whirlwind of activity during winter for idols like Chaewon, schedules packed to the brim with performances and practices. Despite the bustling chaos, Chaewon made a conscious effort to carve out time for us. Our relationship had blossomed over the past three months, the connection growing stronger with each passing day, yet neither of us had mustered the courage to vocalize those three important words.

Before each performance or practice, like clockwork, Chaewon would drop a message, a reassuring beacon in the midst of her hectic schedule. Whether she was en route to work or headed back home, she made sure to keep me in the loop, a constant stream of updates that helped bridge the distance between us.

But amidst her gestures, I sensed her guilt. She knew I often waited for her at the dorm, eager to be by her side. The longing for her presence was palpable, and it seemed mirrored in her own desire to break free from her commitments and just be with me. Her concern for my waiting was a testament to her genuine affection, a silent testament to the emotions yet unspoken between us.

As the holidays drew nearer, a gift arrived in the form of a lighter schedule for Chaewon. Suddenly, she had pockets of time, and those moments became our sanctuary. Nights were no longer dictated by tight rehearsals or packed calendars; instead, they were ours to relish. We'd stay awake, wrapped in the glow of movie screens, concocting treats not just for us but for her fellow group members as well. We immersed ourselves in all those quintessential couple activities, indulging in the sweetness of shared moments.

Then came that overdue date—a special occasion Chaewon orchestrated. It was her chance to lavish me with affection, to express her gratitude for my unwavering support and presence. How could I have possibly said no to her thoughtful gesture? After all, my love for her was steadfast and unwavering.

Our date unfolded like a cherished fairytale. We delved into the vibrant tapestry of Seoul, relishing delicious street food, diving into spontaneous activities, and capturing our laughter in photographs. It was a day painted with hues of perfection, but the canvas of our happiness expanded when she bared her heart.

Amidst the pulsating energy of the city, she turned to me, her eyes brimming with an affection that needed no words to convey its depth. And then, in a moment that echoed amidst the bustling streets, she whispered those three words that altered the rhythm of our universe: "I love you." Those words, so simple yet carrying the weight of an entire galaxy of emotions, wrapped around me like a warm embrace. Feeling the intensity of that moment, I leaned in, closing the gap between us, and our lips met in a tender, affirming kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, a testament to the love we shared, marking one of the top three moments etched in our hearts.

As I sat there, wrapped in the warmth of Mommy's story, my laughter danced in the air while my feet playfully kicked beneath me. In the midst of her storytelling, I caught glimpses of both nostalgia and a hint of sadness lingering in her eyes. Yet, amidst those emotions, there was something more profound—a glimmer of an enduring love she still held for Mama.

The realization that my plan was gaining traction filled me with an indescribable joy. It was working! The threads of their shared past, spun through Mommy's tales, were weaving a tapestry that rekindled something beautiful between them. That glimmer of love, buried beneath the layers of time and change, now danced vibrantly before my eyes.

In that moment, I felt like a silent architect, subtly nudging their hearts to remember what they once had. It was a fragile yet powerful realization, fueling my determination to see my Christmas mission through to its heartwarming conclusion.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Mama, can you pleaseeeee tell me the story of when you proposed to mommy? Pleaseeeeee," I pleaded, my hands clasped together in an emphatic display.

"Of course, baby. Just so you know, it was one of my favorite days," Mama replied with a wink, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she settled into the memory, ready to weave the tale for me.

With bated breath, I listened as Mama began, her voice laced with a nostalgic tenderness that painted vivid images in my mind. Her words carried me to a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of their love story, as she recounted the beautiful chapter of when she proposed to Mommy.

The air crackled with nervous anticipation as Chaewon prepared for the pivotal moment of her life—proposal day. Three years had woven an unbreakable bond between us, and for her, it was the perfect juncture to pledge eternity by your side. You were her world, the axis around which her universe spun, and she couldn't fathom a life without you.

Her meticulous plan had been meticulously crafted, with the assistance of her fellow members, especially Yunjin, who shared a special bond with you. Yunjin's role in the plan was crucial—to distract you throughout the day, giving Chaewon and the rest of the girls the space and time needed to prepare every intricate detail. Everything had to be flawless, just like the love you shared.

As the designated hour drew near, with Yunjin leading me back, all the preparations were set in motion. The stage was meticulously arranged, every element carefully placed to create an atmosphere of magic and love, a space where Chaewon would bare her heart and soul. The energy hummed with anticipation, every detail polished to perfection, all for that one unforgettable moment.

The room seemed to hold its breath, cocooned in an atmosphere pregnant with emotion. Chaewon stood in the center, her heart an orchestra of nerves and unwavering love. The ambiance, carefully crafted with twinkling candles and delicate touches, paled in comparison to the radiance emanating from her.

As Yunjin guided me into the transformed space, my breath hitched in wonder. It was as though the room itself was a canvas painted with the hues of Chaewon's adoration—a breathtaking masterpiece dedicated to our love.

But amidst the beauty, it was Chaewon who commanded attention, her eyes, shimmering with anticipation and vulnerability, locking onto mine. In that charged moment, her voice, soft yet resolute, began to weave a narrative of our shared journey.

"Y/n," she uttered, her voice quivering with unspoken passion. "These years beside you have been my universe, a symphony of laughter, comfort, and an unyielding anchor. You are my everything."

Step by step, she closed the distance between us, reaching for my trembling hand, our souls connected in an unspoken embrace. "Today, amid the echoes of our love, I stand here with a question burning in my heart," she continued, her voice an ethereal whisper carrying the weight of a thousand emotions. "Will you walk this path with me? Will you choose to share your tomorrows with me, painting our story in the canvas of time? Will you marry me?"

Tears shimmered in our eyes, mirroring the overwhelming surge of emotions coursing through us. "Yes," You managed to choke out, your voice trembling with raw emotion, but every syllable dripping with love and certainty.

In that hallowed moment, surrounded by the tender flicker of candles and the symphony of our hearts beating as one, Chaewon slid a ring onto your finger—a circle representing an unbroken promise, a vow to weather every storm together. It was a moment when time stood still, a crescendo of emotions intertwining, marking the genesis of our forever.

The weight of Mama's story settled like a heavy mist, veiling the room in bittersweet nostalgia. Her words carried the weight of regret and longing, painting a picture of a love that had weathered storms but succumbed to the relentless demands of her schedule.

Tears blurred my vision as I wrapped my arms around Mama, her vulnerability tugging at my heartstrings. "You know, Mommy still loves you, right?" I whispered, trying to offer solace amidst the sea of emotions.

Mama's response carried the weight of resignation, a silent acceptance veiled in her words. "No, she doesn't, not anymore. And I'm okay with that. I just want her to be happy," she murmured, the ache in her voice echoing the depth of her love.

But I couldn't bear to see Mama resigned to a love lost. With a newfound determination, I revealed my secret plan, the clandestine scheme that had been brewing in my young heart for the past few months. The confession hung in the air, a revelation poised to reshape their world.

Chaewon's confusion pierced the moment. "What do you mean, a plan?" she queried, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I gazed at her, my cheeks flushing with the weight of my revelation. "For the past three months, I've been coaxing both of you to share stories of your past," I admitted, my voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and hope. "I wanted to rekindle the feelings you have for each other."

Mama's initial shock dissolved into a burst of laughter, the sound filling the room with unexpected warmth. "You, my clever baby, are quite the little schemer," she teased, tickling me playfully, coaxing joyous laughter from deep within me.

In that moment, amidst shared laughter and gentle teasing, I glimpsed a spark of hope flickering in Mama's eyes, a glimmer of possibilities woven by the innocence and determination of a child's heart.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was the moment of truth—I had Mama fully on board with our secret mission. Now, the final act of our plan was set in motion, and I was the lead actress in this grand performance.

With a mischievous glint in my eye, I switched on the blow dryer and directed its warm air to my forehead, feigning the onset of a fake sickness. I knew one thing for sure—Mommy was a whirlwind of concern when it came to taking care of her sick daughter.

"Mommy," I croaked out, playing my part with as much conviction as I could muster.

"Oh, Alina, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Mommy's worry was palpable, her pacing back and forth a testament to her genuine concern for me.

Pretending to be in distress, I murmured, "Call Mama, I want Mama," sniffling to add authenticity to my performance.

As expected, Mommy's concern deepened, and she dialed Mama without hesitation. Mama arrived swiftly, true to the script, while I sat upstairs, ready to play my next part.

"Okay, Mama, I'll pretend to sleep while you have a heart-to-heart with Mommy," I instructed eagerly, feeling like a clandestine agent about to execute a crucial plan.

Mama chuckled at my enthusiasm. "Sure thing, stinker," she said affectionately, ruffling my hair before slipping downstairs to engage Mommy in a conversation that I hoped would rekindle their feelings.

As I lay there, pretending to be asleep, my heart raced with anticipation. This was the moment where the threads of our plan would intertwine, where Mama's words would work their magic in Mommy's heart. It was a scene straight out of a movie, and I was the director behind the curtains, waiting for the climax to unfold.

Quiet as a mouse, I crept to the top of the stairs, my heart pounding with both excitement and nervousness. Peering through the banister's gaps, I listened intently, the hushed tones of Mama and Mommy's conversation drifting up to where I stood.

Their voices, a blend of familiarity and a hint of something deeper, carried a weight of emotions. Mama's gentle words mingled with Mommy's tentative responses, and it was like listening to a symphony, each note resonating with the cadence of their shared history.

Mama's voice, soft yet filled with a wellspring of emotions, carried stories of their past, moments cherished and remembered. She painted a canvas with her words, a tapestry woven with love, laughter, and shared experiences that seemed to transcend time.

As I eavesdropped, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. Mama's tales were like tendrils reaching out to rekindle the spark that had once blazed between them. Mommy's responses, though cautious, held a touch of nostalgia and perhaps a flicker of the love that had never truly faded.

It was a delicate dance of emotions, unfolding like a carefully scripted scene. In that quiet space, I was witness to a silent dialogue, a conversation between two hearts seeking to bridge the distance that had grown between them.

Every word spoken was a thread weaving back the tapestry of their shared love, and as I listened, I dared to hope that our plan was working, that the fragments of their past were reawakening something beautiful between Mama and Mommy.

Alina observed from her hidden vantage point, a silent witness to the delicate exchange between Mama and Mommy downstairs. Meanwhile, in another corner of the house, Y/n and Chaewon found themselves in an intimate moment, the air thick with unspoken sentiments.

Chaewon stood by the window, her eyes tracing the contours of the room but her thoughts elsewhere, entangled in a tapestry of memories and unsaid words. You approached your feelings, feeling the weight of years of separation and longing.

"Chaewon," You began, your voice laced with vulnerability and a torrent of emotions.

She turned towards me, and in that moment, the unspoken love that had lingered for so long seemed to spill from our eyes. "Y/n," she responded, her voice a whisper laden with hope and yearning.

Each word carried the weight of our unexpressed feelings. "Despite the passage of time, my love for you has never wavered," You confessed, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions.

Chaewon's gaze softened, a shimmer of unshed tears reflecting the depth of her feelings. "The love I have for you remains unchanged, a constant amidst the changing tides of life," she admitted, her voice a tender echo of our shared affection.

In that vulnerable exchange, our hearts beat in unison, a symphony of love and longing. With trembling hands, we reached out to each other, fingers intertwining in a silent promise, a silent vow to explore the resurgence of a love that had endured the test of time.

Embraced in each other's arms, our connection felt like a melody, harmonizing with the quiet transformation taking place downstairs between us. It was a moment of tender revelation, a shared confession that spoke volumes of the love rekindled, echoing the quiet whispers of reconciliation weaving through the house.

In that vulnerable exchange, as our emotions swirled like an unstoppable tide, a silent understanding passed between us. Without words, but with a depth of feeling that words could never capture, we leaned closer.

Chaewon's breath mingled with mine, our hearts racing in unison as our lips met in a tender, long-awaited kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, a communion of souls reconnecting after a prolonged separation.

The touch of her lips against mine held the weight of unspoken confessions, the echo of years of longing, and the promise of a future rekindled. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken vows and a renewed commitment, sealing the unbreakable bond we shared.

As we drew apart, the room seemed to hold its breath, the air charged with the unspoken promises hanging between us. The soft brush of our fingers lingered, a silent reassurance that our hearts had found their way back to each other.

In that tender moment, amidst the quiet intimacy, our embrace conveyed a story of rediscovery and a love reignited. It echoed the hushed whispers of reconciliation downstairs, a parallel journey of two hearts finding solace and hope in the embrace of love rediscovered.

“YES!” The joyous exclamation escaped me before I could contain it, echoing through the house. Quickly realizing my outburst, I covered my mouth, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and surprise. Mama's chuckle washed over me, her voice calming despite my momentary panic.

"Alina, sweetheart, come down here," Mama beckoned, her tone gentle and reassuring. Sheepishly, I descended the stairs, finding them wrapped in a warm embrace, the sight filling my heart with boundless happiness.

"Are you two together again?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity and excitement.

Their laughter filled the room, a harmonious blend of emotions. "Yes and no," Mommy replied with a playful smile. "Your mama here has to take me on a date first."

My eyes lit up with excitement. "Can I plan it like I've planned to get you two back together?" I pleaded eagerly, the prospect of being the architect of their reconciliation sparking a newfound enthusiasm within me.

The sudden realization flickered across Mommy's face, a mix of surprise and intrigue. Her raised eyebrows prompted a moment of shared trepidation between Mama and me, unsure of her reaction.

"What do you mean?" Mommy's voice held a note of curiosity, urging me to explain.

Gathering my courage, I confessed, "Yes, I've had everyone in on the plan, even Mama. I orchestrated everything—the stories, the reminiscing about your past together—to rekindle your feelings for each other." There was a brief pause as I awaited Mommy's response.

She gazed at both of us, a mixture of astonishment and amusement crossing her features. "Chaewon, our daughter is remarkably smart," Mommy exclaimed, her tone a blend of surprise and pride.

"That's what I've been saying! When she told me her plan, I was shocked myself because it was actually working," Mama chimed in, her laughter blending with Mommy's, the tension dissipating into shared amusement.

The confession, once met with apprehension, now became a moment of shared laughter and revelation. It was a testament to the power of a child's earnest desire to see her parents rediscover their love, and it seemed our efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.

The air buzzed with joy as Mommy and Mama enveloped me in a warm embrace, their arms a cocoon of love and gratitude. They peppered me with kisses, their laughter mingling with mine in a symphony of happiness.

Giggles escaped me uncontrollably, a chorus of joy that echoed the newfound harmony in our family. In that tender moment, encircled by their love, I felt a profound sense of contentment knowing that our journey had brought us back together.

Their affectionate gestures spoke volumes, a silent testament to the rekindled love that now flourished between them. It was a scene painted with warmth, laughter, and the reassurance that our bond was stronger than ever.

With hearts brimming with love, we stood united—a family reunited by the unwavering devotion of a daughter and the enduring love between two souls finding their way back to each other.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The anticipation of Christmas filled the air with an infectious excitement, and in the midst of this joyous occasion, I shared a heartfelt wish with Mommy and Mama—a desire for a little sibling. Their surprise at my request was evident, gently explaining that it might be a bit too soon since they had only reunited a month ago. However, they promised to consider it.

On that magical Christmas day, amidst a sea of gifts from everyone, a particular box from Mommy and Mama caught my eye. With bated breath, I opened it, revealing a shirt with the words "Big Sister" printed on it. I couldn't contain my excitement—I jumped and squealed with unbridled joy. "I'm going to be a big sister!" I exclaimed, elation coursing through me.

Mommy and Mama chuckled at my exuberance, but as I rushed to them, tears began to well up in my eyes. Mama gently wiped away my tears, concern etched on her face. "What's wrong, baby? I thought you were happy?" she inquired, while Mommy held me close, offering comfort.

Amidst my sobs, I tried to explain. "I'm just so happy... our family is back together. It's all I've ever wanted for the past two years," I sobbed out, my emotions a whirlwind of overwhelming joy and gratitude.

Their arms around me felt like a fortress of love, a sanctuary where all my hopes and dreams had finally converged. In that poignant moment, the gift of their love and our reunited family outweighed any present under the Christmas tree. It was a moment etched in the tapestry of our lives, one of heartfelt emotions and the joy of a wish fulfilled.

In that moment, held tight within the embrace of Mommy and Mama, amidst the glow of Christmas lights, my heart felt like it could burst with overwhelming emotions. Their love enveloped me, a cocoon of warmth and acceptance that healed every fracture within me. It wasn't just about the joy of soon becoming a big sister; it was the depth of love that had mended the pieces of our fractured family.

Tears of sheer happiness streamed down my face, each drop a testament to the overwhelming gratitude and love I held for them. This Christmas, painted in hues of reconciliation and hope, etched an indelible mark on my soul. It was a chapter of our lives wrapped in the embrace of forgiveness, renewal, and the promise of new beginnings. As we stood there, united and filled with unspoken promises, I knew that this Christmas would forever linger in the tender corners of my heart as a testament to the healing power of love.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

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[canmom]

Animation Night 196: the Demoscene

Hey everyone! It's gonna be a short post today, because the hour is late, but I've been teasing this all week, soooooo~

This is a square-numbered animation night, our first in a while, and that means it's a night for something computer-related. And what is more true to the essence of computer animation than the demoscene?

And damn, what a topic. 'Computer art subculture' is the usual way of describing it, and that's accurate enough. But let's get into details...

A demo is a computer program which is kind of like a non-interactive game, and kind of like a music video. It generates images, usually synced to music, in realtime. But that doesn't quite get to the heart of it.

A demo is kind of a combination of art piece and coding challenge. The exact constraints vary: perhaps the whole program fits into a tiny size (such as 4kb). Or, it's made for a specific oldschool computer, such as the Amiga, taking advantage of the unique quirks of the hardware to push its graphics capabilities to the absolute limit.

Perhaps it's better to start with the history - a well-covered subject in books, articles and even documentaries, which I will have to cover extremely briefly. Back in the late 70s and 80s, when personal computing was really taking off with machines like the Commodore 64, copyright took a while to catch up - particularly in Europe. With network bandwidth far more limited than now, it became popular (relatively speaking) to distribute cracked software at events known as 'copy parties' - you'd bring along your files and exchange them for others.

Often, the groups who created the cracks would add a little intro to take credit for their hard work. With space at an absolute premium, these 'intros' would need to be tiny - perhaps just hundreds of bytes. But constraints breed creativity, and soon groups would compete to distinguish themselves with the most impressive intros. Perhaps you see where this is going...

I'm going to brush over a long and fascinating history here, because space is limited and I would rather try and dig into the history another time - I'm hardly the person to tell it, anyway. So let's just say this: the practice of making these intros, or more generally demos, very quickly grew into its own art form - if you didn't have cracked software you could just bring along a cool intro to the copy party. And as copyright law heated up and the cops started coming for copyparties, the nascent demoscene started to diverge from the warez scene, developing into its own, unique subculture - legal but still indebted to the hacker culture which birthed it.

Broadly speaking, the demoscene is organised around demoparties - big gatherings, largely taking place around Europe, where groups gather to enter their demos into competition, create new demos right there, and engage in related activities like live coding... or dorky shit like throwing keyboards as far as possible, don't ask me about that one. It's not all about creating demos either - over time, the categories have expanded to include music, digital art in general, 3D asset creation, etc. etc., unified more by the aesthetic of the scene than anything. Take a look at the entries for a party like Revision (the largest party, based in Germany, hosting about 800 guests each year) to get a sense of the broad scope of the scene.

But the core of it all is still demos! 4k, 8k, 64k, unlimited in size. PC, amiga. Demos have evolved a great deal over the decades, and it is hard to generalise too much. Still, in contrast to game graphics, which usually emphasise authored content, efficient streaming of assets etc. etc., the emphasis of the demoscene tends to be much more on procedural effects and more abstract visuals.

You can get a taste for what a winning demo looked like as of 2007 with debris. by the group Farbrausch, pouet.net's top-rated demo of all time: techno music, a camera flying over a cityscape as cubes stream around...

And here's one of the most popular 4kb demos, rendering a procedural snowy landscape with a bit of chromatic aberration to taste...

Modern demos have introduced tools like the node-based animation and sim software Notch, which shifts the emphasis away from programming a bit. Rainmaker, which won Revision's PC demo category this year, hardly attempts to optimise for file size, with its executable weighing in at a hefty half a gigabyte, but it certainly goes all out with all that data, hitting flashy scene after flashy scene...

Even in the space-contained categories like 64k and 4k, you can see a modern approach to HDR colour, grading, depth of field etc.:

Especially for the smaller categories of demo, the music tends to be procedurally generated - i.e., chiptunes - as well. But even without that constraint, there is a natural tendency towards many types of electronic music in the scene. After all, it's all about making computers do cool shit.

And to be clear, although technical flexing and generative art is definitely a big part of it, there's plenty of familiar animation stuff in here too. Successful demos tend to feature tight music sync, creative imagery, and definitely some kind of progression or flow in how the images are juxtaposed and how they fit the development of the music. If you felt really pretentious, you could compare it to poetry. I do feel really pretentious, so I will!

Where do you find demos? Unfortunately, there are now many dead links. pouet.net is still something of a hub, featuring a pretty exhaustive database of demos and a voting system to sort them by popularity, as well as providing a forum for the scene (hopefully not about to disappear as its main admin just announced his plans to quit). Demoscene.info tries to be a decent public-facing intro, with links to the major parties and groups that still mostly work. The scene.org awards celebrated a set of demos each year from 2002 to 2011. Youtube psenough reports weekly on what's happening in the scene. There's also Demozoo, a database similar to pouet.

We might also here mention the website Shadertoy, likely familiar to any graphics programmer, which was co-created by oldschool scener Inigo Quilez and carries much of the same spirit. Shadertoy lets you write fragment shaders in opengl to run in the browser, essentially a type of demo, and people use it for all sorts of shit.

So, that's a brief summary. Tonight, starting in just a minute, if you'd like to join me at twitch.tv/canmom, we'll be checking out a random cross-section of popular demos from across the last few decades. I'll be running them on my computer, if possible. I fully admit to being an outsider to the scene, yet to go to a demoparty and see it all in person, but I think it's cool as shit, so let's go explore it together for a couple of hours~

[byyliss]

bruh not even just a pay check. they jumped into a dumpster fire for 2% of merch sales and 1/4 of every stream donation 💀 thats barely anything when you consider how much youtube takes before nijis cut of all streaming profits

Exactly! From a business standpoint it makes zero sense. Look at how the company works:

- Talents barely get the money they work for

- If they want to do a project that needs to come from their own pocket because Niji refuses to help

- They are well aware that Niji will actively try to push you into an early grave if you slightly piss them off or make a mistake.

- Defending Niji without evidence just made their channels loose subscribers. I think Elira lost 4k or smth

The only reasoning I can see for them to do this is: either they earn way more than other talents due to being favorites (which would explain why they were chosen to be meat shields in the first place) OR those three have some dirt and they don't want Doki or anyone to bring it out. That's what I think is what happened to vox, doki or other talent might have some serious dirt on him and he doesn't want them to have the guts to bring it to light

[johndjwan]

Just how big is the AOC cable market in the U.S.?

So here’s a fun fact you might not hear every day unless you live in the world of data centers and fiber optics: the U.S. Active Optical Cable (AOC) market is kind of a big deal. Like, billion-dollar big. 💸

In 2023, the AOC market across North America was sitting pretty at around $1.49 billion, and guess what? The U.S. drives most of that. We're talking high-speed cables zooming through data centers, cloud computing, and 4K streaming galore.

But it doesn’t stop there. Analysts say we’re looking at $3+ billion by 2030, with an 11% annual growth rate. Why? Because everyone wants faster data, lower latency, and zero buffering—whether it's gaming, video calls, or uploading that massive creative project.

AOCs are the unsung heroes behind the scenes. Not sexy like AI or flashy like VR headsets—but without them, the internet would crawl.

So yeah, next time you plug in, remember there’s a fiber-optic hustle going on underneath it all. 🧠⚡