#and electronics that fell apart after one use

[jymwahuwu]

Wrote some!! This is the second part of the abo story, you meet your two future Alpha husbands😽😽

part 1

cw: dystopian au, forced breeding policy

You borrow some credit from a friend and save it to a temporary payment card for daily payments. Now your bank account has been frozen by the government - for the hilariously unbelievable reason of not being pregnant beyond the appropriate reproductive age.

You don’t really want to get married, and you’ve criticized and complained about this weird policy on social media in the past. Now you are faced with this situation… There aren’t many options here, and you have to consider marriage and having children. You have no doubt that this government will really force you to be sent to a breeding facility.

News channels have reported that Omega and Beta citizens who repeatedly ignored warnings were sent to breeding facilities and stuck on the wall to wait for thorough breeding and pregnancy. Those citizens who emphasized "reproductive freedom" had their mouths gagged and their hands tied behind their backs. They whimpered and struggled to be stimulated and expanded by dildos, and finally broke and apologized in the water pool.

You-you don’t want to experience…

Before heading out, you circled in front of the mirror and checked your clothes. The two Alphas made an appointment with you to meet and talk in a restaurant. Even though you're dating two people right now, you've only chatted with one of them on the site. He said that the other Alpha believed that marriage and dating had to be discussed in real person. He has a point too. You agreed.

You board a spaceship (no physical currency is required this time, so you breathe a sigh of relief), and check the planned route on the map app to note which station you want to get off the spaceship at. Cheap ships have their downsides. That means the time it takes to travel is doubled, and the number of stations passed is doubled. Tired and shaken along the way, you fell asleep on the spacecraft and finally reached your destination.

After searching for a few minutes, you looked up and were shocked by the decoration of the restaurant. The elegant and luxurious restaurant decoration uses black and purple as the main tone. A foreign song is faintly passed in the air, exuding a quiet and comfortable atmosphere. The Milky Way can be observed in real time outside the window. The sofas and seats for guests are spaced apart and organized. This is very different from the ordinary restaurants you usually go to. Embarrassed, you flipped through the electronic menu in front of the door, wondering if there would be a discount on takeout, and wanted to send a message to them to tell them that they made an appointment at the wrong restaurant. Alas…how are you going to pay for it now…

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" The waiter at the door was filled with a friendly smile. You just feel more pressure. "W-wait, I'll send a message to my friend."

You: I'm here, but wait, is this here? Did I go to the wrong place? 🥹

You: [Restaurant link in the food app]

Aventurine: No, that's right^^ We're already here.

You: okay

As soon as you enter the restaurant, a bouquet of flowers is blocked from view in front of you, the fragrance is overflowing, and the delicate petals are condensed with bright colors and vitality. What's this? You took a step back in fear. A head with blond hair poked out from behind the flowers, with dazzling bright eyes. "Hello, this is a wedding gift." He explained with a smile.

Wedding gift? You were so frightened that your hands trembled, holding a large bouquet of flowers. The flowers are so crowded that they must be leaned on your shoulders.

"Hmm…? Just kidding. This is an engagement gift."

You paused after hearing his explanation. You are not engaged, or even agreed to be engaged to these two Alphas. This must be Aventurine. He was just as flirtatious and cheerful as he sounded on the Internet, sitting down and placing the bouquet in your hand back in its place. Sitting next to him was a man with a frown. "I've had enough of your peacocking. It's so grandiose."

"Ah, of course the more expensive the gift, the better. Everyone's feelings can be reflected in it, right?"

"Hello, I'm Veritas Ratio." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded to you.

[harringtonstilinski]

Back On You - Steve Harrington; Drabble

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader Word Count: 337 Warnings: lil angst, lil fluff Requested: no | yes; i hope it meets your expectations, @paracosmoon!! Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! This is just a drabble, so it's super short <33 If you like this little drabble, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Steve walked into the apartment you two shared, totally and insanely beat from his day at Family Video. It was just crazy busy for him; running around the store looking for the right movies, shelving all the returns, running back and forth from the front to the back for those special movies. Pure and utter chaos. Didn’t help that it was Friday; one of the busiest days of the week.

Letting out a breath, Steve set his keys down and took off his shoes, walking further into the apartment. “Hey, babe. How was your day?” He kissed the top of your head, not noticing that you were cuddled in your favorite comfort blanket with your comfort show on. “Babe?”

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes. “They won’t stop shaking.” Showing him your hands, a tear slid down your cheeks. “I started having anxiety, so I called my mom and they started shaking afterward.”

Sitting down next to you, Steve gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and kissing your temple. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby. I promise.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’ve got me.” After a few minutes of watching Family Ties, Steve got up and made you your favorite cup of tea and grabbed your favorite snack before sitting back down on the couch next to you. “Here, baby. Your favorite tea and snack.”

Taking the tea from him, you laid your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Steve.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

For the rest of the night, you and Steve watched all the reruns of Family Ties before watching whatever movie was on the television. You expressed how you wanted to hear about his day, but Steve insisted that the two of you just relax.

A small smile spread across Steve’s lips at hearing your soft snores before he picked you up and carried you into your shared bedroom before changing out of his clothes and into some pajamas, laid down and fell asleep with you in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: send me some drabbles! i'm also working on a drabbles masterlist <33

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on July 11, 2025

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 21: Souvenirs

Mushy May put together by the lovely @forlorn-crows <3

Cumulus receives some mail from her mate while she's off on the American leg of the Skeletour. No warnings, 600 words.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

There’s a pile of mail on the kitchen counter, a thin package with Sunny’s name on it that Cumulus knows she’ll be seeing the contents of later. An envelope for Aether, a letter from Aeon addressed to Swiss. What catches Cumulus’s eye is a stack of bright, colorful postcards tied carefully with twine. Cumulus takes these, slipping back into her nest with her prize. The others can read them later.

Cumulus puts her glasses on, curling into her pillows as she picks apart the knot, thumbing through the postcards. Each is different, a vibrant photograph representing a different stop. Cumulus misses the road, misses her pack, but at least her loon is sending her little memories to try and make up for the absence.

She picks up one at random, a glossy picture of the New York City skyline, and flips it over. The first thing she sees is the smudge of dark plum lipstick in the shape of Cirrus’s lips. Cumulus cackles, leaning back in her nest. So that’s where that particular tube of lipstick had disappeared to.

Her heart swells at the thought of Cirrus squirreling away her lipstick, putting it on just to seal each postcard with a kiss. Cumulus takes a deep breath and actually reads what Cirrus has written in her soft, spidery handwriting.

“Mount got lost on the subway and almost missed the bus. Wish you were here. Love, Cirrus.”

Cumulus huffs a sharp breath of a laugh, a sharp pang of sympathy ripping through her as she imagines the panic. “Poor thing,” she shakes her head, still laughing. Cumulus flips to another one, this one with a sunny beach littered with palm trees. There’s the same stamp of lipstick on the bottom right corner on the back.

“Don’t tell Copia. Vee actually had good sense scheduling an indoor tour this time. It’s been pouring for three days straight. No ruined electronics this time. Miss you, Cirrus.”

Cumulus hums, memories fluttering behind her eyes of soaked through jackets and capes, huddling in a greenroom with too loud air conditioning, huddling together not to catch a chill. She’s glad her love and her pack are safe and dry this time. She picks another postcard.

This one is a strange, beautiful building, white metal and glass, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say it looked like a boat. She flips it over.

“Bug fell into Lake Michigan. Rain fished them out. No one was happy about this. The bus smells like wet dog. Love you, Cir.”

Cumulus throws her head back and cackles, just picturing Aeon dripping wet and complaining, the same way they’d crawled out onto the pier after Aurora had pushed them in last spring. She does wince in sympathy at the smell though. Always making sure that Dew and Rain dry off fully after their all day soaks. Something about lakewater-damp ghouls makes her crinkle her nose.

She picks out another postcard. Giant redwoods stretch up into the sky on this one, blocking out much of the sunlight coming down. Cumulus flips it over.

“Dew got bit by a squirrel and lied to Aether when he called that night. He tried to pet it. He’s been Up Top longer than all of us. He should know better by now. Love, Cirrus.”

Cumulus can’t help herself but laugh, and laugh, and laugh, until Aether opens her door and sticks his head in.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asks, and there’s genuine concern on his face. Cumulus gasps, trying to catch her breath, but keeps breaking into little giggles.

“Everything’s perfect,” she says. Aether doesn’t look convinced. She glances down at the postcard in her hands and keeps laughing.

[contentmentdisguisedaslove]

Stan-Borg AU

Stan just wanted to help his brother. He just wanted to *see* his brother. Of course, he should have known that nothing could ever be so easy. The crazed look in Ford's eyes as he had haphazardly pulled the trigger on his crossbow had left Stam shaking. Or maybe that was because of the arrow stabbed between his ribs.

The moment after the strike had felt like it lasted forever. Ford's face has shifted just before he dropped the crossbow and rushed to Stan's side. Ford's arms had twisted around him tightly. The closest thing to a hug he had felt in ages. Stan had smiled up at him, attempted to lift a hand before it had fallen to his mouth as he gargled on blood that was quickly filling his throat. Still, the grin hadn't left his face. Even as he had drifted out of consciousness.

Ford couldn't believe what he had done. What Bill had pushed him to do. Of course, this was all Bill's fault. Just like Ford's falling out with Fiddleford. And Ford's lack of sleep. And...

Stan. Ford keeps his hand pressed to the base of the arrow that's speared into Stan's torso. He's been unconscious for a few minutes and Ford can barely think straight. All he knows is that he can't let this be the end. Damn everything else right now. Despite their differences, Stan is his brother. His twin. Him.

He can't let Stan die.

Ford manages to get Stan into a sort of frozen/comatose state with a powder he had discovered in the forest some time during his studies. It won't hold long and he knows that. He knows he needs to figure something out but his own panic is still so ripe. He can't think about anything but his own failures.

It's in those failures that he remembers Fiddleford. They haven't spoken in so long, but he might just be Ford's only chance at saving his brother. Ford calls the last known number he had for Fiddleford and gets Emma-May. She barely lets him get a word in before cussing him out, accusing him of being the reason her marriage fell apart before saying she doesn't know where Fiddleford is and not to call this number again.

Ford scours the streets of Gravity Falls, deducing that Fiddleford must still be around if he's not with his family. He finds him. At least, he's pretty sure that the babbling mess of a man that's tinkering in the dump is Fiddleford.

Fiddleford is half gone to the effects of the memory gun. He barely recognizes Ford. Offers out his hand in greeting before catching a glimpse of that extra finger. Only then does he remember the horrors he's witnessed. He recoils, hooting and hollering while Ford attempts to calm him from afar.

He's just barely able to catch that Ford needs help through his own babbling. He quiets down for a bit, just cognizant enough to see how distraught Ford is. He's shaking, tears in his eyes and the imprint of his teeth beneath his lower lip like he's been chewing it for hours. Once Fiddleford hears what's happened, he's still unsure. Confused. "Your brother?" He asks. "Shermie?" Even after Ford explains that this is his *other* brother (has he always had another brother? Did Fiddleford used to know that?), Fiddleford hesitates.

"Please." Ford begs him. Drops to his knees and offers up a million apologies while desperately asking for help.

Fiddleford agrees.

It doesn't take long for the two of them to decide what to do. Fiddleford isn't great at biologics, but he can work wonders with mechanics. He can fix Stan. He can make him better. Restore his life and body while adding in new things to make living easier for him. Electronic parts to upgrade him. The idea of a cyborg has been around for a while by now, Fiddleford supposes that it's time to test out the thought.

They work relentlessly, Ford bringing back magical artifacts to assist Fiddleford in his efforts to create new cybernetic parts for Stan's body. Between the two of them, they manage it. They bring him back from the brink of death.

Stan's first breath is a rough one, shaking his lungs with the intensity of it. His eyes snap open. He can hear everything. His own heartbeat and the blood rushing through his veins. Beeping surrounds him for some reason. Is he in a hospital? He looks around. He's in a dark room with a dirt floor. Large metal arches rest disassembled on the ground. Between Stan and the scrap rests two figures.

Ford. Ford and some other man Stan has never seen before. His head twitches a bit as Stan takes the two of them in. They're talking in hushed tones, but he can hear them. Wondering when he'll wake up. If their work paid off. They don't notice him for a long time. Or maybe it's a second. Stan can't tell anymore.

"Stanley!" Ford is quick to rush him, clinging to him much like he did in Stan's last memory of him.

"You're sending a lot of mixed signals here, poindexter. If you wanted me dead, you could have just kept me that way. Left me with happy final moments." It's a joke, but Ford's face tells him it's not a well received one at all.

Ford hates that that's Stan's takeaway from his brush with death. That he could die happy in the arms of the man that shot him. What could have been happening to him for that to be a happy end?

[gingerale2017]

News To Share

Fluff

Fandom: The Lunar Chronicles

Pairing: Cinder x Kai (kaider)

Setting: Sometime after at least Kai and Cinder are married

Words: 2k

Cinder woke up to the soft hum of the timed electrical curtains gliding apart. The eight-in-the-morning sun shot her face mercilessly and, even as her mechanical eyes automatically readjusted, she still had to squeeze them shut against the glare. She let out a soft groan and rubbed her cheek against her pillow.

Except her pillow was warm. And breathing. She froze, not wanting to wake up her husband. Unlike Cinder, the brightest rays of sun failed to wake him up as he breathed evenly and undeterred. She was vaguely aware of his hand hugging her arm as she silently oriented herself to him.

She closed her eyes, wanting to match his state again when she noticed something in the corner of her inner screen. She didn’t receive notifications when she slept so they wouldn’t bother her, but the little inbox where she sent comms kept glowing. It made her open her eyes again in confusion. Who was comming her so much at eight in the morning?

Her curiosity won over her laziness. Cinder willed the comms to open and saw a group-comm chat with message after message. It was made up of all their friends. The must be planning an event or something. The sun seemed to dim against the white chat bubbles, and for once she was glad for her man-made eyes.

Before she could fully absorb the materials of the chat, Kai stirred by moving his hand to her waist.

Cinder smiled and closed the chat, leaning into his lazy hug. Her friends could wait.

“G’morning.” He muttered, voice croaking due to the earliness.

“How did you know I was awake?” She murmured into his chest.

He sighed. “Because you’re too still. Like pretending you’re asleep still. And you hugged me back. I think.” The man was clearly groggy. She chuckled and looked up at his jaw.

“Well, good morning, Kai.” She said, reaching to press a small kiss on his throat. It pricked her lips. “About time for a shave.” She pointed out.

“I know, I know.” He then paused for a beat too long. She worried he fell back asleep. Then he took a sharp intake of breath and spoke. “What’s on the schedule today, darling?”

She hummed, pulling up the electronic list. “Nothing in the morning, which is why we’re sleeping in.” They giggled like little children getting away with something. When you’re royalty, waking up at eight in the morning is considered a luxury. While her chuckles waned, Cinder turned to hug and squeeze his waist. She lovingly dug in her forehead into the softness of his chest. His hand left her waist to pat her head. “We got documents to read over and sign before tomorrow. Oh, and the reps from the Malaysia Provinces scheduled a meeting with us at 15 hours. Though, this is the first time I’m hearing of this.”

Kai groaned and let her have her cuddle moment for second. The he completely shifted their positions by wrapping his arms and legs around like she was a pillow and hid his face in the crook of her neck. “My turn.” He mumbled. She smiled to herself as she noticed how half of one of her arms was underneath his body now, while the her hand remained free. She used that hand to pet his hair, and used her totally free arm to rub circles all over his back. He sighed contently.

Honestly, if she had it her way, this is how she would spend every morning. Instead of waking up in the crack of dawn and leaving each other with quick kisses without a flow of conversation. She’d massage his back for eternity if she could. To Cinder, their love felt so unique and different. It felt like one that only existed every thousands of years or so. Like one from a fairytale, or a romance novel. Obviously, their love story isn’t the only incredible love story out there. There are their friends, each having their own captivating romance. But not like Cinder and Kai’s. No, not like the Commonwealth royalty at all. They understood each other on another level than their friends did, which, again, is likely true for most coupes.

But they were different! She swore they were. She didn’t have anything to prove that they were different, but it sure felt like it. They lived in their own private world that only they can experience. They saw colors, and stories, and artistry, and so much more that they can only see with each other. They’d do things with and for each other they will never do with and for anyone else.

For example, if someone murdered one of her friends, say Thorne, in cold blood, she go after the murderer of course but probably wouldn’t do anything else once justice is served. But if someone were to even give Kai a laceration the size of a tick, she’d go after that person as if they’d murdered him. That’s how far she’d go for him. And, back to understanding the other like no one else, she knew he felt the same way.

Kai moaned, waking her up from her enamored stupor. She blinked and stopped moving. “What’s wrong, darling?” She purred, his pet names rubbing off on her. Probably because she was still high off of her romantic inner spiel, she felt oddly protective of her husband right now. Though, it could also just be of their current cuddle positions.

“Nothing, that just felt so good. Please do it again.” He mumbled, covered by the skin of her neck.

Cinder chuckled to herself and resumed the circling on his head and back. He sighed, absolutely melting into her. She knew for sure he was thinking about how much he loved her. She knew because she was thinking the same thing.

After a small while, she checked her inner ‘port screen’ again and pulled up the messages for the hundredth time. Finally she read the messages and let it sink in. It started forty-five minutes ago and she scrolled to the first message.

Scarlet: Hey guys, sorry if any of you are sleeping right now, but Wolf and I have some news to share :)

Iko: oooooh what is it??

Cress: Carswell and I are awake :))))

Winter: I’m awake as well.

Winter: Jacin can’t find his port but he is also awake.

Winter: He wanted me to tell you.

Wolf: Hey guys, sorry of we’re waking any of you guys up but we have BIG NEWS !!?!

Thorne: ?? i’m a little confused.

Wolf: Sorry, I meant to delete that but I sent it instead. We decided we should send it on Scarlet’s port ./.

Wolf: Sorry, type, I mean just the dot .

Wolf: typo*

Cress: We understand Wolf. What’s the big news?!!

Iko: yessss i’m dying to know

Thorne: same, the suspense is killing me

Scarlet: So I was feeling sick for the last couple of weeks and thought ‘hm that’s strange’ so I was racking my brain as to why I was only feeling sick in the mornings

Thorne: girl are you pregnant?

Iko: THORNE

Jacin: THORNE

Cress: CARSWELL

Wolf: thORNE !??!? can you wait a littlr lonber / please?

Wolf: Sorry, typo. Little* and longer*

Winter: I’m confused, why are we writing Thorne in all capital letters? Is that the news?

Winter: Never mind, Jacin told me.

Scarlet: can i finish my story?

Thorne: we all know how it ends but sure

Thorne: anything for the preggo woman

Iko: THORNE

Jacin: THORNE

Cress: I’ll restrain him Scar, don’t worry.

Scarlet: ty cress

Scarlet: Anyways, I went to the pharmacy and it hit me. What if I’m pregnant?! So I grabbed a couple pregnancy tests and boom here I am. Officially three weeks and a half pregnant :)

Iko: AHHHH CONGRATULATIONS!!

Iko: OMS OMS IM SO HAPPY I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE ALL THE BABY BENOIT-KESLEYS

Iko: IJDNMIKNZFKGIFUBKIBK I’M SO HAPPY RN I CAN’T EVEN

Iko: OH MY STARSSSSSSSSS WHATTTTTT

Scarlet: i know :)))

Cress: CONGRATS SCARLET AND WOLF :DDDD

Cress: This is so exciting!! When is the due date?!?!?

Scarlet: April 27th the doctors said

Thorne: OH YEAH BABY NUMBER ONEEEE

Thorne: WHO’S NEXT ?!?!?

Winter: Wow this is amazing news! Congratulations! I am so happy for you.

Jacin: Congrats you guys, this is great stuff.

Scarlet: thank you soooo much, this means a lot to us

Thorne: yk, my money’s on kai and cinder for the next baby

Thorne: where are they anyway

Iko: let the poor babies sleep

Wolf: Yeah. We are very excited!

Thorne: hey no typos!

Wolf: ? I thoght I didn’t have amy :(

Wolf: Thought* Any*

Thorne: you didn’t

Wolf: Okay. Good.

Iko: LMFAO IM ROLLING

Wolf: Why are you rolling?

Winter: ?

Winter: Nevermind. Jacin just explained.

Scarlet: this is way more chaotic than i thought it was going to be lol

Thorne: our sarcasm receptors are not very high rn

Scarlet: unfortunately

The last message was sent two minutes ago and Cinder could see Winter’s profile thinking up a message. It was a cute mini avatar of her in the corner of the screen looking up at at an empty thought bubble. The avatar was tapping her foot and chin at same time is if it were a real person.

However, Cinder was too stunned to focus the avatar. She gasped and froze her motions. Kai groaned in response.

“Why’d you stop.” He moaned, the words vibrating in her neck. It tickled, but she could only blink.

“Oh my stars, Kai!” She laughed aloud. “Check your port!”

He pulled away and furrowed his brow up at her. “Why?”

“Scarlet’s pregnant!”

Winter: I am not very good with sarcasm sometimes, I am sorry for that :/

He jerked, quickly sitting up. He stared at her with wide eyes. “No way.”

“Check!”

Iko: actually you’re a hidden sarcasm gem

Scarlet: IKR?!?! you literally surprise me every time you whip your sarcasm out

He dove across their way-too-big bed for his port. Cinder could only laugh at the way his feet hung up at an odd angle. She sat up and stretched as she waited. He gasped as he read the message and covered his mouth. Then he laughed in shock. “This is incredible!” He exclaimed once he was sitting close to her again.

“I know! I’m so happy for them.” She giggled.

He tilted his head, still looking at his port. “What does Thorne mean he’s got his money on us.”

Cinder cringed. “Just ignore it. I actually think he and Cress are gonna have baby number two.”

Kai looked at her. “You sure about that?”

Her breath caught. What did he mean by that?

He looked away and typed a response that she could barely process because her mind was still reeling from the look he had just given her. And his words.

Kai: I’m sorry I’m just now seeing this but congratulations on your next stage of life! Cinder and I are so happy for you two!

Cinder: Yeah! We couldn’t be more excited. Keep us updated!

Thorne: damn y’all sleep in or something

Kai and Cinder turned to each other and burst out laughing.

Cinder: shut up

Iko: good morningggggg, i’m otw to breakfast

Thorne: BREAKFAST?!? aces, I was joking, y’all really did sleep in

Cress: We’re in your time zone, btw :3

Thorne: oh we are?

Cress: WHERE ARE YOU

Cress: Sorry that was a private chat meant for Thorne.

Thorne: you’ll never find me :3

Scarlet: aww you guys should meet up!

Scarlet: actually wolf and i were thinking about visiting the east again soon

Winter: Me and Jacin too!

Kai: That’s great news, actually. We can take this as an opportunity to catch up and celebrate your pregnancy Scar!

Cinder: Especially since all of us will be within the same time zone soon enough.

Thorne: okay mr and mrs fancypants

Scarlet: That sounds awesome!!’

Cinder: shut up

Thorne: isn’t there a way to say that a little more nicer

Thorne: yk since you’re royalty or wtv

Thorne: crap, cress found meBIVJAEYL

Jacin: Thanks Cress.

Cress: Anytime :3

Kai frowned. “What do you think she did to Thorne?”

“Hopefully put him down.” She scoffed. He chuckled, then threw his port across the bed.

He blowed a piece of his hair out of his face and smiled at Cinder. “What are you thinking about?”

“Me?” She blinked.

“Who else? Let me ask my other wife.” He teased.

“Stop it.” She glared. Then she looked away, knowing that she’d be blushing right now

He noticed her hidden rosy cheeks. “What is it, darling?” He murmured, using his hand to coax her cheek.

Whether he knew or not, this was a form of manipulation to Cinder as it always made her answer whatever Kai asked or did. Especially when he would rub his thumb back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She was especially hypnotized whenever he used his eyes. She was like fish and his face was like bait. Once she looked into his eyes, she was hooked.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What did I say?”

“When I made that comment about Cress and Thorne having children, you said something.” She mumbled. “I just wanted to know what you meant.” She feared she already knew the answer.

His lips twitched. Repeating her thoughts, he responded. “I think you know.”

“I do.” She whispered.

Then his eyes turned almost into pleading. “It was an offhand phrase, but I’m pretty serious, Cinder.” His other hand rubbed her knuckles. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” He added, with a small chuckle.

She bit her lip. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Then he took a moment to look away and sigh. Once he recovered himself, he turned back to her again. “I think it’s time to have children.”

She stared at him for a long moment, leaving him in suspense. She could tell he was dying to know her answer and he’d agree if it were positive of negative. He’s always been supportive.

Then, she slowly smiled at him. “You know, there’s never a right time for these sorts of things.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I agree.” She murmured, turning away. Kai squeezed her hand. Stars. Kids! In fact, she knew exactly how she felt about having kids. “But, if we were to have one without planning for it, I wouldn’t mind it.”

He exhaled in relief and cupped her cheek as she smiled. She could hear I love you’s twinkle of his eyes. She coaxed the hand on her face with love and leaned in to kiss him.

Good stars. Kids! It’s true when they say there’s never a ‘perfect moment’ to starts. Hopefully, they’d have his eyes.

A/N: i wrote this at 1 am so it’s a little funky. hope u liked it anyway :)

Tag List: @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @the-wee-woo-royal @deprivedmusicaljunkie @crescentchat @notjacinclay @wheresmymom-imlost @salt-warrior @rapunzelfromthemoon @briggycat @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @definitelynotisabel @wassupnye (these are for my kaider ONLY fics so please ask if you want to be tagged or removed <3)

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (PART 1)

Hi y'all. The brainrot took me with no warning, and I've written 5k for these two just the last two days. I've no idea how much I'll write, but I'm going to squeeze the serotonin for as long as I can lmao

Anyhow, this is a streamer/actor AU that somehow evolved into a sugar daddy AU. Till is a streamer, and Ivan is a famous actor who found him when he was a small streamer and fell in love; he's been sending donations for a good while now, but they've never communicated outside of it.

Until Till opens his PO box and Ivan's need to spoil Till is too much, at least. Then all bets are off, and Till finally starts thinking more about the stranger who keeps sending him gifts. I have a basic outline for it all, but I'm going with vibes first, since I mostly just want to write them and torture Ivan.

I'm going to be posts little snippets of what I've writer so far over the next few days, so please don't be afraid to come to my inbox to ask about them!

This was inspired by this fic! Check it out!

Till wasn't the most famous streamer there was. Not anything near that, actually, though he thinks he does well enough.

He has an established fanbase, almost 500k of them, he's sold some merchandise and collabed with some pretty nice people. He likes streaming, varying between his songwriting and recording processes and any new video game that catches his fancy.

When he started, he didn't think he'd do this for a living. He probably wouldn't be able to afford it, being a struggling musician as he was, for once.

He couldn't blame his comfortable living situation solely on one person, no, since that would be incredibly inconsiderate of the rest of his fans, but this one Navi person definitely funded Till's move from his old apartment mostly by themselves.

Case in point.

NAVI (TILL'S ATM) DONATED $100: Hyung, how's the new house?

Till reads the donation out loud, ignoring his chat going a little crazy over Navi's donation. By now, Till is used to Navi only ever sending messages through donations. He'd be so flustered, in the beginning, and worried enough he almost disabled them. Luckily Hyuna talked him out of it.

"It's going well. As everyone can see, my studio isn't done yet," he says, gesturing behind himself into the empty expanse of freshly painted wall. At least he'd painted it black already. "but the rest is going okay. I'm really sorry for the week I had to take off, everyone."

He quickly scams the chat, his heart feeling warm as all the people watching rush to reassure him that it's not a problem, he should take care of himself, and how glad they are he managed to move from his shitty rented apartment.

"Actually, I have some news for you all." He scratches his neck, a nervous habit, and looks to the side. Hyuna convinced him to do this, so he knows it's something streamers do, but he can't help being anxious about it. "Since I moved, and this place needs some decorations, I was thinking of opening a PO box and doing an... what's it called? Unboxing?"

The chat is going crazy, he can barely keep up, oh god. He feels his cheeks heat.

"An unboxing live and then decorate my stream setup with some stuff I get. Would you guys like that?"

His chat is a mess of "yeses" and incoherent screams, and Till can't help but smile a little. He's got to say, he's looking forward to this.

The following weeks are a bit of a mess. He streams less than normal, still setting up his new apartment; he goes with Hyuna to buy electronics she swears will make his streaming better.

Dewey, his brother, goes with him to buy a new shelving unit and help him set up all his new furniture. Isaac is strangely fixated on saying Till needs rugs and other things, otherwise his apartment is "just a place, not a home, bro", apparently.

He checks in with his PO box frequently, each day more excited by all the packages he got. After two weeks he announces on twitter he'll be closing the PO box in a week since he wants to be able to open all the gifts on stream and he's already got a good amount of them.

The day after his announcement, he goes to pick up any new packages to store in his living room since he doesn't want to burden the office workers and finds a package that makes his stomach twist in itself.

It's a large box, clearly packed by hand instead of the usual post-service stamps. And it has a large sticker reading "FROM: NAVI" on it.

Till doubts anyone would use the name to get his attention, since he does treat all his viewers equally, so this really is from Navi. He wonders what is in it, since Navi clearly has money to spare and intends to spend it on Till.

"It's probably a maid dress." Hyua says, helping him lug it all to his apartment.

"It's not!" He splutters, mortified. Hyuna raises an incredulous eyebrow. "It's probably snacks, or something like that. Navi's said they travel a lot." That, somehow, just makes the eyebrow twitch higher.

"You remember what your viewers say?" She asks, hip-checking his door open. He follows, frowning a little. He always remembers what his viewers say.

Navi, obviously, since they only talk in donations, but also a few other regulars. Kirby has an older sister they're sharing the computer with; Siren started learning the guitar because of Till, and is doing well for himself; Jaewoon – with the username Till's Merch Overlord – draws and is currently suffering through art university, BonBon who has a one-year-old and listens to Till while doing his household chores.

"Yeah? I mean, there's only so many people who regularly chat. And out of those, a good part are my mods." He says, shrugging. He knows Hyuna pays someone to mod for her, but Till didn't think he'd need a mod, since he never expected to get so many views. He kept going without mods for so long that the most active members of the community ended up auto-modding the rest, at which point Till just reached out and asked if they wanted to mod, and now he pays them for it because he felt bad otherwise.

(Of course, Navi isn't a mod. They'd fit Till's criteria, but they never chatted normally, so it was kind of hard to ask.)

"Aaah, you're just too wholesome, heartbreaker." Hyuna says, sighing, the old nickname that still makes Till confused coming out with a teasing lilt. She waves him off before he can say anything, though, plopping the box on the couch and grinning at Dewey. "Hey, this one you'll definitely want to check!"

Till rolls his eyes as his brother 'oohs' and 'aahs' over the package, Isaac peering over with a pocket knife ready to pry it open. When Till mentioned opening a PO box, he insisted on checking the gifts beforehand, just to make sure they were all stream-appropriate and, most importantly, not dangerous for Till.

He was grateful his brother cared, but he was less amused by the teasing and hint-dropping they'd been doing over the content of the packages. He leaves them to it, moving to the kitchen to get some much-needed coffee.

Looks like Isaac bought bungeo-ppang, so Till fills a mug and picks one, nibbling at it and looking into his fridge. He should go buy more food, but there's a seven-eleven right across his street, so he almost never bothers stocking up. He does need to get more tea, though, since he dislikes drinking water, and for reasons unknown, his chat enjoys it when he drinks on-stream.

He finishes updating his list and walks back to the living room, where Dewey has already closed the package back up, but is holding a small parcel in his hand, frowning. Hyuna looks over as he approaches, a complicated expression on her face.

"The rest of the package is fine to open on-stream, but I think this one might be best off-stream." She says, and the lack of any teasing or barb makes him worried. She must've read that in his expression, because she grins. "Do you happen to know why this Navi person likes you so much? I wouldn't mind getting some of these myself."

Till can't help but scowl, snatching the parcel from Dewey's hands. He doesn't know Navi, not really, but they're still one of his first viewers, and they do kind of give Till a lot of money.

"Keep your hands away from my viewers, hag." He has to move fast to escape her grab, which soon develops into a little keep-away with the parcel, soon ending up with Dewey on the ground howling with laughter as Isaac tries to haul Hyuna off him, curled on himself on the ground to keep the parcel to himself.

"Ugh, you brat! Just open it!!" She exclaims, sitting down on Dewey's lap, making the older man yelp. Till huffs, but sits up to analyse the gift.

It seems to be an envelope, like many of the letters he got, but there was something inside of it, making it weirdly bulky. Till folds it open, tipping the envelope so whatever it is can fall on his open hand, and stares.

There is a pair of... earrings, on his hand.

Diamond earrings, to be precise.

That the fuck.

Till stares at it, then peers inside the envelope. Nothing weird falls out, like a damned credit card or pure gold, but a little recipe with the return address of a high-class jewellery store makes itself known. The rest of the envelope contains a certification for the damned diamonds.

Till curls up back again, head in his hands, groaning. His face is so hot you could cook an egg in it.

Navi got him diamond piercings because Till complained once, months ago, that he wanted to switch out his piercings but didn't have the money for it.

"C'mon Till! You didn't tell me you had a sugar daddy!" Hyuna jeers, and from the hiss and yelp, Dewey just dropped her. The sound of them bickering – Hyuna insisting this Navi person has to be after Till's virtue, and Dewey being insulted by the thought of someone going after his little brother like that, plus Isaac googling the store to throw fuel on the fire – is enough to distract Till form his own freakout.

He sits back up, his face still red, to study the piercings better. There are six items in total. One is a simple diamond stud, a tiny and delicate stone, probably for his second hole. A pair of bigger stones, with four elongated asymmetrical spikes, making it look like a shining star, probably for his first hole. One's a series of round stones inlaid together in a belt, forming a hoop, for his helix piercing. The final ones are two silver loops, delicate and silver, for his double auricle piercing.

He thinks if he puts any of those on, he's going to spontaneously combust.

(Later that night, after Hyuna and Isaac went home and Dewey crashed on his couch, Till locks his bedroom door and tries them on. The pair of star-shaped earrings go on both ears, the tiny stud on his left, alongside the helix, which he takes a while to get on since it is so finicky, he pierced it himself with a safety pin in high school. The hoops go on his right, looking a little lonely with just the earring, remembering Till that he really wishes he had money to get a constellation on that ear.

He's wearing a simple white shirt, ready for bed, that slips off his shoulder to show off the simple moon covered by clouds on his clavicle, clashing with the TILL tattoo he has over his neck. He turns this way and that, watching the diamonds shine, and feels almost bad for using them.

Why did Navi send this to him? What did Till do, to deserve something as delicate as this? He's not the kindest of people, he's kind of an asshole actually, all shouting and side eyes. He's not the kind of guy that can properly appreciate such nice jewellery, not the kind of person that should be appreciated like this.

Still. The diamond shines against his skin, the silver compliments his white hair. He takes most of them off, only keeping the simple snake bites. He doesn't want to somehow dirty up the diamonds.)

part two

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 36

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 16 minutes

Jungkook stopped, gaze falling to her after he was done explaining what the plan was. Her features were blank as she tried to understand everything she missed during such a little span of time.

—Are you sure about trusting Sanhyuk though? —she looked at him, elbows resting on her knees— He's a rat that would sell his mother if he got the chance.

—He's a rat, but he's useful to get information —he shrugged—. And I doubt my father would expect an alliance with him, so it'd work in our favor.

—Or against us —she muttered, earning a warning look from him—. But you're the expert, so I'll trust you —she sighed.

That comment made him scoff, hand instantly falling to her thigh, pressing his digits on her flesh over her jeans to earn a smile from her. He felt his heart squeezing on his chest, similar to the feeling he felt when he woke up next to her; seeing Y/n sleeping peacefully by his side, eyebrows only furrowing momentarily, while her hand gripped on his bicep as if she was scared he'd disappear was endearing for him. The type of image he'd love to keep reviving every day of his life. It was the same with that playful smile she dedicated to him. Jungkook wanted to witness it every second she was with him.

—What's your plan?

There was no irony in his tone, there wasn't any type of trap or defensive attack, and that was what surprised her the most.

—I guess running away and hiding isn't on the table? —she thought out loud— Because your father will find us either way —she nodded, answering herself her own question—. I told you last night —her hand covered his—: I trust you. And if that means working with Sanhyuk, then so be it —after shrugging, she intertwined their fingers.

—Who are you and where's my Y/n that would find a problem with everything I do?

Her head fell back with fake annoyance, rolling her eyes before she chuckled at his comment.

—If you want her back, I can bring her back at any point and make you regret your own words —she assured him—. But I will once all of this is done. For now, hope you're okay with a tamed version of myself.

—I want all the versions of you.

His eyes shined when she turned to look at him. She still couldn't believe the same man that was giving her butterflies at that moment was the same person that'd be begging people for their lives. She couldn't recognize his aura, but she loved how cozy and close he looked. On the outside, he was still the head of a big mafia family, dressed in his expensive slacks and black shirt, with a silver necklace standing out over everything; but on the inside he was the same man that spent hours by the phone waiting for her call, the same man that kept looking after her even if they were miles apart and that kneeled in front of her for her forgiveness.

—Eyes on the road, boss —she mocked him—. I want to get safe wherever you're taking me.

Earlier in the morning, Jungkook told her to get dressed again because he wanted to take her somewhere. He didn't mention where, or why. She just did what she was told, because she didn't care, she just wanted to be with him. He had been driving for quite long already, he wouldn't be able to go on for much more before they ended up in the middle of the sea on a long trip to Valencia.

The electronic voice of the navigator guided them through a dirt road that Y/n knew would end up filled with mud as soon as it started raining a little.

—Wouldn't it be better to leave the car somewhere else and go there by foot?

She hadn't been exactly to that place. She didn't even recognize it, but she thought it was similar to the area she visited with her parents once a year when it snowed, or when they went camping once a year when she was younger. Her father used to warn her about those roads and how dangerous they can be for a car after he storytold how he got stuck on his old days.

—It'll be safer if we get to the place in the car —he answered—. I don't know who's out there, or if someone followed us here.

—Jungkook, seriously... —she clicked her tongue— You can't be so hardheaded.

—You just made that word up.

—No, I didn't —she rolled her eyes—. You can look it up in the dictionary. It exists, and it has your face blasted on the definition.

They were both so immersed in the discussion, and trying to guess whether that word was right or not, that she didn't notice he kept on driving through the road until they got to a big old villa. With the alert that they reached the desired spot, Jungkook parked the car and smiled proudly at her.

—And nothing happened to the car.

—You should be thankful you're pretty and I don't want to ruin that face, because I'd punch you right now.

—Leave that aggressiveness to the shooting range.

—The shooting what?

Jungkook grinned at her confusion, hopping off the car to surround the front part and open the door for her. Despite not knowing what was happening, or why they were there, the grip of her slim fingers around his hand was tight and firm.

Several cars were lined up at the entrance. And where there were cars, there were several men dressed in suits and dark clothes. They didn't have any security getting there, but every step they took closer to the villa, or inside, was carefully scrutinized by them.

—Are they on your side or did you make us go into the lion's den?

—They're all on our side —he assured her—. All of them won't hesitate to take a bullet for you, so you're safe.

And she was able to see that same loyalty and respect when every male they passed by lowered their gaze, bowing to Jungkook and setting the way free for them.

—Is this yours?

—Jimin's —he sighed—. That crackhead loves something big that could get attention, and this is what he bought as soon as we got the deal for this territory —his voice sounded tired, but there was some fun high-pitched in his words.

—Some buy houses, and others buy people. To each their own —she playfully teased.

—Don't tell me my purchase wasn't the best, because you'll be lying —his lips caressed her forehead with his teasing.

They ventured inside the place, Y/n only being able to overlook some of the rustic furniture and some hyperrealistic drawings while she tried to follow Jungkook's steps towards the stairs that led to a lower floor. There was a big contrast among the two places. The first one was proper for any normal landowner in the area, but downstairs it was as if they had taken the shooting zone of one of those police movies there. On the right, at one extreme in the room, there were several types of guns hung on the wall, while in front of her there were different cartels with a body-shaped figure drawn in them.

—Yesterday I saw you're able to defend yourself with anything at your reach —he scoffed—, but I need you to learn how to use a gun. For your own safety, and my sanity.

Her eyes shifted form the shelf filled with guns to his worrying gaze. She didn't like the way that sounded like he wasn't going to be next to her when anything swayed in the wrong direction.

—Doll, don't give me those eyes —Jungkook smiled—. I just think it'll be good for you.

—What eyes? —she moved her gaze away— You should've done this way earlier —she walked to the shelf.

—Babe —he stopped her trembling hand when she tried to reach one of the small guns—, it doesn't mean I'll leave you alone.

—I know —she nodded—. Because if you do, I'll stick that one —she pointed to one of the rifles— up your ass.

Jungkook guided her through the whole process, making sure she knew how to charge the gun and how to unlock the safety-catch. He let her practice on her own, encouraging her to go as fast as possible every time she tried, before they moved to the shooting range.

His body almost covered hers as he stood behind her, moving his arms over hers to teach her how to hold the gun and how to point at her target. Her body squirmed to the powerful sound that came out of the weapon she was holding in her hand and the thick vibration running through her fingers after she pulled the trigger.

—Shall we make a bet? —she asked, smirking while they stayed in that position.

—What do you want? Every headshot is 500 euros worth in clothes?

—You'll buy me that anyway —she slightly turned her head to him—. With every headshot, you'll owe me a normal date.

It wasn't until she brought it up that he was aware that they never had a regular date per se, neither of them were able to feel the tension increasing with every small step into each other's direction, or the uncertainty that the chemistry will keep going strong the next time they saw each other. They weren't even able to talk about their lives with fun anecdotes.

—Deal —he nodded—. You'll choose the plans.

He was competitive, which meant he was hard to beat. But Y/n was determined and slick, which was more dangerous than any of his virtues. If she wanted something, she did it until she made it. That was why he wasn't surprised when he saw her completely focused, looking at her from behind, while she raised the gun and started shooting again.

Once she was done, she dedicated him a proud smile and invited him to go on and count the holes on the drawing's head.

—Six. You get to choose six dates —he informed her—. I'll give you way more than that though.

His words triggered something in her, because she saw nothing else but his lips. Snatching the gun from her hand, and leaving it on the stand next to where they were, Jungkook felt free to lift her in his arms, feeling her thighs surrounding his body almost instantly.

✸ ✸ ✸

She had a disgusted look on her face, looking through the door, the rain pouring in front of them, and the branches of the trees moving with the air. He didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking, or what she was dying to say at any moment. She warned him, and he didn't listen.

Through the sound of the thunder, and the rain hitting the car and the ground, he heard her babbling some words in Spanish while she made her way to the car while she hugged herself.

—What if we stay until it calms down? —she asked, when he joined her inside— The road will probably be muddy.

—It'll be okay —he assured her—. If I keep a steady peace, and I don't stop, the wheels shouldn't get stuck.

She still wasn't okay with his idea, but there wasn't much she could do other than just let him be. Once an idea got inside his head, there was no way of getting it out. And she was the living example of it.

As they started their way back to the road they came from, she thought that maybe she was being too hard on him. Jungkook clearly knew what to do, he had full control of the car with barely any effort. She was about to eat her own words, backtrack on everything she didn't even say out loud until she was reminded she was the one who was right.

First, it was the sound of something blowing, and later the car slightly bounced, making them look at each other.

—Tell me that wasn't a puncture.

Jungkook's nervous smile transmitted everything that needed to be said, without saying a single word.

—Well, at least we didn't get stuck.

—Yeah. At least we didn't get stuck —she nodded—. Where's the gun now? —she casually asked, looking at the back.

—I'll check outside. Stay here.

It wasn't like she could go anywhere. It was dark, it was raining, and the road was probably impossible to set foot on. So she just crossed her arms, looking at the drops rolling down the windshield while Jungkook tried to check the wheel, lighting it with his phone flashlight.

They were in the middle of nowhere. No one knew they were there, and probably no one would come looking for them there. It wasn't like they needed to be in a hurry to leave, at least not for that night. When she looked over the rearview mirror and saw Jungkook under the rain, she also felt sorry for him.

She rolled the window down, feeling some of the cold drops on her fingers and the reverse of her hand, before she felt them on her head when she leaned out the window to call Jungkook.

—Let it be. Let's wait for tomorrow —she tried to make him get back inside the car.

—I can change the wheel —he assured her—. It won't take me long.

—Jungkook, I saw something. Get back inside —she lied.

His head immediately raised from the lower part of the car, looking up at her, and then looking behind him to check what she was saying. And while he moved his eyes away, she rolled the window back up. Jungkook slowly stood up, adopting a defensive pose while his hand reached the gun hid in the back of his pants. He was getting ready to attack while he made his way back to his seat.

—Move to the backseat and don't come out.

—But...

—Move to the backseat and don't come out —he repeated.

She sighed, and did as she was told. She could've told him there was no one outside -or, at least, she didn't see anyone nor anything outside. She just tried to get him back in the car, because she knew he wouldn't have moved back inside otherwise.

Without turning to her, and forcing himself to be on high alert, he asked her where she saw what triggered her.

—That's what I was trying to tell you, there's nothing outside —she shrugged.

The hand that held the gun dropped to his thigh, at the same time he turned to her to give her a pissed look.

—I tried to tell you, you just didn't want to listen —she defended herself.

—Didn't you say you were on a more tamed version?

—I am —she raised her eyebrow—. I did it for you. You'll catch a cold if you stay out there for so long. Let's spend the night here.

It wasn't like he wanted to be mad at her, but he'd have hoped to, at least, be annoyed at the situation. They were going through a delicate time, the slightest warning of danger should have him with his guard up as soon as it was presented, and her playing around with it wasn't doing it any good. But the fact that she was worrying about him, and that she knew him so well to be forced to use that tactic made him smile while his eyes dropped down.

—Take off the jacket, turn on the heat and join me here —she invited him.

Jungkook probably would've stayed mad in his place if she didn't rule all of him in that moment, getting him to do exactly what she asked. And while he moved in between the two seats, she took off her hooded jacket, using it as a towel on his hair and upper body to dry him.

—I'm using my first date —she whispered, while she was moving the jacket over his locks.

—What?

—The dates I earned before —she explained—. I'll be using the first one now.

—How's this a date?

—You, me —throwing the jacket over the front seats, she allowed herself to press her palm over his humid slacks—, calm environment, and a good talk. We'll be able to work with that.

There wasn't much talk, because he trapped her lips and made sure to place her legs in a way they'd be hanging on his so they'd be closer.

It didn't matter what was going on back in the real world, or what they'd have to confront the next day. That small bubble they built for each other was enough to make them forget about it all. Jungkook only wanted to care for her, and Y/n only wanted to care for him.

She rested her head over his shoulder, hearing his heartbeat pumping in his chest, a sound that the silence was gifting her before she interrupted it with a small chuckle.

—This reminds me of the time my dad's car got stuck in a muddy road, and we were stuck there for like five hours. He said that it felt like camping somehow, and then he became obsessed with camping until he made it a yearly tradition —she remembered, eyes getting lost in a particular spot in the car for no reason.

—Huh, I see where you got your pigheadedness from —he joked, while his fingers traced random lines on her back—. It's the first time I've heard you talk about your parents this way.

A sigh dropped her lips, getting more comfortable against his body.

—I don't really have many reasons to talk about them in general —his fingers moved up her back, hiding in the locks of her hair while he squeezed her nape—. They didn't act like parents when they should have. When I got pregnant, I didn't really want anything from them, just support. Honestly, I probably would've been okay even after they kicked me out if they had just shown the slightest interest in me. But they didn't even dare to say goodbye properly —her fingers moved over his arm, tracing random lines that weren't even meant to caress him—. The next day I told them, I found the door closed and my things on the street. And not a single time they tried to find me after I left, same goes to my ex boyfriend.

—That was when you met Jorge?

—I met him a bit after —she answered after shaking her head—. When I lost the baby, I didn't go to the doctor nor get treated, so it affected my health. He could've let me die in the middle of the street, yet he helped me and looked after me even after I recovered.

Something humid fell on his neck and rolled down his collarbone when she made a long pause, and it only made him hold her tighter, squeezing her knee to let her know she wasn't alone anymore. There was something he wasn't able to explain, a feeling that was building up inside of him. He always was keen on understanding her nature, of knowing what made her brain work the way it did, but he never thought that knowing it would create such rage.

He for sure knew that he wouldn't let it go. All those people needed to pay for putting her in such a position and hurting her that way.

His dark ideas got interrupted by her hand covering the reverse of his hand, hiding the knuckles that started going blank by the way he was gripping on his own slacks.

—It's in the past though. I bet karma will put them in their place one day.

And he'll make sure of that.

—Why don't you tell me about yourself? Hmm? You've never talked about your family either.

—Do you really think I need to? —he chuckled— You've already seen my father, there isn't much else to talk about. He's willing to kill me now, so I don't think it'll be a surprise for you to know he beat me up when I was younger.

Her head instantly raised at his words, concerned at the way he so casually dropped them.

—He said it was a way to make me tougher. I had to come up by myself with the idea that if I cried, he'd only beat me harder. And with that same excuse, he'd force me to go with him and see him torture and beat someone that went against his interests.

Most of his childhood consisted in testing his own pain, always overcoming it so the next beating wouldn't be as painful, used to the horrors his father did to others so he'd learn how respect was earned and how people that played with him should be punished. Since he was younger, he was lectured about his position in the family. And he took the role with no complaints, he did everything he was expected to do.

—What about your mother? How could she allow it?

—She died when I was thirteen —he whispered—. I don't even know if she was ever aware of what happened. I remember my father used to use her death as a way to teach me how people and emotions could make me vulnerable, and how I should never be like him in that sense.

—How could he let you go through all those things? You were only a kid...

Y/n hugged him tight. As if that would erase all the horrid memories and wash all the pain away. She expected a difficult childhood -or, maybe, teenage years more-, but never to that extent. His father trained him as if he were a dog, and was ready to get rid of him as soon as he realized he didn't meet the expectation he set.

It wasn't like she expected much better from someone who faked his death only to test his son. That should've been enough to tell the type of life Jungkook had when his father was still around.

—I only have you —he admitted.

—We have each other —she nodded, while her fingers played with his hair—, which is fucked up for Mr. Jeon, because I won't let him hurt you again.

—Shouldn't I be the one saying that?

—You've said it way too many times, it was my turn.

Jungkook laughed slightly, before her lips were linked to his in a long kiss that'd leave them breathless. A kiss so intimate and passionate that both of them were only craving for more the second they broke the kiss, moving their mouths together again until they fell completely asleep.

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast

[w8ndows11]

「 non binary + he/they 」🔬  ‧₊˚  ⋆ ــــــــــﮩ٨ـ did you page enzo bemis from administration ? they’re the twenty - five year old tech support at kingsley, they’ve been working here for one year. you’ve probably seen them if you caught a up to heighted anxiety only made worse by the consumption of various energy drinks, having a chokehold routine that everyone knows you by, always finishing your tasks by 9 am so then you have time to do whatever you want, silently taking over when someone is too frustrated with the hospital tech then walking away without a word, the patients that do like them would tell you they are softspoken and inquisitive, but some of them think they’re rigid and obsessive. time is rushing, just go and find them. 

full name — enzo josiah bemis - becker.

nickname(s) — ?

date of birth & age — september 20th -– 25.

gender / pronouns — non - binary, he/they.

sexuality — bisexual.

occupation — tech support at kingsley hospital, otherwise living life as gods fucked up little ken doll.

notable features — various scars – in particular, a bruise looking scar on left knee, scar on face from a car accident, in the middle of his forehead.

ABANDONMENT & FOSTER CARE TW born  in  god  knows  where,  united  states,  enzo  has  never  felt  like  he’s  belonged  -----  here,  there,  or  anywhere.  a  constant  search  for  something  more  than  himself,  there  was  never  any  answers  he  could  find,  himself.  born  to  two  anonymous  parents  who  were  much  too  young  to  have  a  child,  enzo  was  found  in  the  typical  fire  station  baby  in  a  basket  kind  of  way.  burnt  to  a  crisp  birth  certificate,  barely  making  out  his  first  name  attached  and  just  about  ready  to  crumble,  he  was  placed  into  the  foster  system  after  a  few  week  stay  with  a  firefighter  family. 

FOSTER CARE & DEATH TW was  placed  with  a  family  for  a  few  months,  then  another,  then  the  becker’s  and  he  never  left  after  that.  was  eventually  adopted  by  them  when  he  reached  pre  -  school  age.  this  was  around  the  same  time,  coincidentally,  that  damien, his adoptive father  had  passed.  it  was  then  when  he  began  to  shy  away  –  hiding  out  by  himself,  withdrawing  from  what  few  preschool  friends  he  had,  keeping  to  himself.  always  the  meek  kid,  it’s  not  like  they  tried  very  hard  to  break  out  of  their  shell.  enzo  knows  that  this  ever  -  lasting  loneliness  is  probably  his  fault.

schoolyard  blues  hit  him  hard.  spends  most  recesses  inside,  in  the  library,  using  the  shitty  computers  to  play  games  or  just  attempt  to  bypass  the  schools  system  and  google  random  things.  people  interested  him,  but  the  world  did  moreso.  threw  himself  into  his  hobbies  and  interests.  ever  the  collector,  there  was  many,  often  encouraged  by  his  family,  to  continue  to  pursue  literally  whatever  he  wanted.  and  so  he  did:  room  filled  with  random  things.  books,  research  that  he  still  doesn’t  quite  get,  eventually  fell  in  love  with  computers  and  all  things  electronics.  started  by  taking  them  apart,  putting  them  back  together,  going  to  junk  yards  and  finding  random  things  and  mashing  them  together  and  failing.  his  own  frakenstein  computer. kept  to  himself.  involved  himself  in  the  nerdish  things,  which  also  didn’t  help  him  gain  many  friends,  but  he  was  actively  with  people  and  that’s  all  that  mattered.  time  grows  longer,  enzo  grows  larger,  and  the  fear  subsides,  if  only  a  little.  a  bit  more  self  trusting  and  confident  in  himself. 

all  of  that  work  paid  off.  kind  of.  he  was  accepted  to  cuny's  grove  school  of  engineering  in  the  city  on  a  almost  full  -  ride  scholarship,  under  the  coveted  computer  science  degree.  they  know  it's  hard,  and  while  difficult,  enzo  felt  like  it  was  worth  something.  it  wasn't  …  easy.  but  he  enjoyed  it.  it's  good  for  them  to  get  lost  into  something  productive  than  their  own  head.  after  all,  they'd  never  had  much  else  to  dive  in  to.  didn't  go  to  prom,  didn't  have  high  school  relationships.  just.  simply.  was  there.  they  know  it's  a  lonely  existence,  he  knows.  it  beats  down  on  him  in  the  same  way  it  does  everyone  else:  those  monsters  in  the  middle  of  the  night  that  plague  you  until  you  crack.  graduates,  and  is  lost  for  all  but  a  minute  —  a  family  member  gets  him  a  job  at  kingsley  hospital,  being  i.t.  support.  it's  not  quite  what  he  was  imagining  (  not  gonna  lie,  hospitals  freak  them  out  )  but  it's  money,  and  most  of  the  people  are  nice.  so  it's  worth  it,  for  a  while,  as  long  as  everyone  else  handles  the  blood  and  gore  and  all  that.

highly  empathetic  due  to  his  lonely  nature,  tries  to  see  the  best  of  people  even  when  he  so  badly  wants  to  be  a  pessimist.  so  very  kind,  but  extremely  skittish.  approach   like   a   feral   kitten   you   found   on   the   side   of   the   highway   at   3   am   while   interstate   traveling.   occasional   shakes   of   a   treat   bag   are   welcome   and   encouraged. 

if  he  likes  you,  you’ll  know  –  the  jokes  and  quips  he  keeps  locked  up  come  out,  and  he’ll  try  to  get  your  references  and  jokes  (  key  word  on  try:  he’s  trying!  )  .  will  blab  a  bit  about  his  favorite  things  and  do  not  get  his  ass  started  on  computers  and  technologies.   on  the  other  hand,  you’ll  also  know  if  he  doesn’t  like  you.  constant  death  stare  and  acting  like  he  doesn’t  hear  you  when  you’re  talking.  playing  the  silent  game  and  he’ll  win  every  time.  neutral,  you’re  fine.  he’ll  only  stare  a  little  bit  when  he  doesn’t  know  what  to  say,  which  is  always. 

so  very  lonely  by  his  own  design.  but  is  trying  to  stop  doing  this.  blah  blah  blah  something  about  watching  life  go  by  and  see  all  these  people  having  fun  while  he’s  like  squidward  staring  out  the  window.  get  really,  buddy,  and  put  the  mouse  down.  very  much  socially  challenged.  it  used  to  be  a  lot  worse  -  hiding  behind  his  sister  and  mother  in  public  settings,  whereas  now  if  you  catch  him  off  guard,  he’ll  likely  take  a  minute  for  his  brain  to  catch  up,  then  reply  with  only  a  few  words.  does  not  like  to  be  ambushed  or  bombarded.  crowds  freak  him  out,  and  small  talk  gives  him  hives. 

scared.  always  scared.  extremely  stubborn,  and  can  get  lost  in  his  own  head  almost  all  the  time.  please  ensure  he  is  paying  attention  before  you  say  anything  important.  scared  of  his  own  strength,  and  keeps  a  low  profile  —  despite  his  desperate  wanting  for  friends  and  more  people  to  connect  with,  he’s  often  afraid  he’ll  be  the  reason  something  bad  happens  to  them.  a  double  edged  sword.  he  doesn’t  want  to  face  the  blade  the  other  way,  so  he’ll  point  it  at  himself  instead. 

often  can  be  found  wearing  funny  tshirts  or  big  jackets.  treats  them  as  security  blankets,  like  he’ll  be  able  to  hide  in  them.  he  can,  but  it’s  the  principal  of  it.  has  worn  the  same  thing  for  years,  and  will  continue  until  they’re  simply  a  piece  of  fabric  barely  stitched  together.  tends  to  not  spend  money  on  himself  and  instead  his  family  or  friends.  sentimental  object  holder. 

will  take  any  kind  of  electronic  device  apart  and  out  it  back  together.

*includes  but  not  limited  to:  any  apple  product,  any  microsoft  project,  any  nintendeo  product,  walkie  talkies,  phones,  laptops,  mp3  players,  keyboards,  roku’s,  game  controllers,  wiis,  car  radios,  car  steering  wheels,  tablets,  desktops,  radios  /  stereos,  and  the  occasional  hand  held  vaccum.

carries  around  a  tablet  they  stole.  from  who?  aha,  well--  the  screen  is  cracked  to  shit,  and  it  hardly  works,  but  he  loves  it  and  has  had  it  for  a  solid  10+  years.  his  fines  must  be  crazy  on  that  thing.   carries  it  with  him  everywhere.  has  multiple  portable  batteries  just  in  case  there’s  no  way  to  charge  it.  loves  that  thing  like  it’s  a  real  person  and  it  is  like,  unironically  his  best  friend. 

obsessed  with  many  things  actually:  postcards,  pokemon  cards,  limited  edition  coca  cola  bottles,  movies  nobody  else  has  ever  heard  of,  star  trek,  old  sitcoms  from  the  70’s,  wolf  biology,  wolves  in  general,  national  parks,  and  also  cats  for  some  reason. 

maladaptive  daydreams.  a  lot.  it’s  a  bit  of  a  bad  habit,  now,  and  he  doesn’t  quite  know  how  to  stop  —  tries  to  play  it  off  to  little  avail  because  dude  doesn’t  have  a  cool  bone  in  his  body. 

aunts / uncles.   i shan't lie i do think it would be funny if he was like a somewhat nepo - hire. one of his family members put in a good name for their application, he got it under the promise that he would not steal nor break anything of the hospitals. enzo has made good on that for now.

friends.  dear  god  get  this  guy  something!!!!  jsut  kidding.  but  i  think  it’d  be  fun  to  explore  actual  genuine  friendships  ..  maybe  they  went  to  school  together?  maybe  theyre  neighbors?   maybe  they’re  new  and  town  and  want  to  take  him  as  their  pet  dog?  idk.  the  worlds  our  oyster. 

older  sibling  /  parental  figures.  i  think  this  is  also  rlly  fun  bc  he  is  a  very  concerning  individual  so  unfortunately  he  attracts  the  kind  adults  around.  maybe  knows  his  sister  and  mom?  family  friends  he’s  known  since  bebehood?  ..  a  sweet  kid  but  god  damn  it’s  like  watching  paint  dry  with  you  boy.  would  probably  try  to  cause  a  ruckus  in  their  home,  however.  watch  your  dvd  players  closely.  he  is  a  new  york  city  native  so  !

mutual  dislike.  perhaps  something  happened  and  they’re  just  like  >.>  at  each  other?  it  takes  a  lot  for  enzo  to  actively  dislike  someone  and  try  to  bore  holes  into  their  head  by  staring  so  this  would  be  fun.

good  /  bad  influences.  those  people  who  are  like  brother  ..  my  friend..  you  need  to  be  at  the  club.  and  try  to  get  him  there.  devil  and  angels  on  their  shoulders,  if  you  will.  people  who  try  to  get  him  out  of  their  shell  either  way. 

grump  x  sunshine  dynamic  is  my  fave.  so  hello.

one  sided  crush  wld  be  cutesy  ..  like  boy  get  real.

someone who is so technology inept that they just bring their stuff to them.  and enzos like ??? but does it anyway. 

every boyloser needs a girlboss (gender neautral). they’ve been inseparable since childhood and at this point it doesn’t seem to be stopping.

[dragonflight203]

The Talos Principle is one of my favorite games of all times. I’ve played it an absurd number of times for a puzzle game – probably five or so.

Two big reasons for this are:

A) there are multiple ways to break the game and they’re fun to find

B) I loved the characters and wanted to explore all the possible ways the story would go.

The Road to Gehenna characters live in my mind rent free and at this point are practically my OCs from all the scenarios I’ve put them through and headcanons I have. But Road to Gehenna will always be one of my favorite game DLCs of all time.

I was leery of a sequel to a game that stood so well on its own, but it was inevitable I would play it.

And I really, really did not like The Talos Principle II. I played it shortly after release and didn’t like many of the characters, didn’t like the huge maps, and didn’t like the story. Objectively I could acknowledge it was a solid game, but it was not what I wanted from a sequel. I never played the DLC.

Still, I always intended to replay it again to see if I warmed up to it, and with the release of The Talos Principle Reawakened now is a good time.

Below are my thought of the game up to 1K’s awakening. I’m not sure how frequent these will be as I play, but there will almost certainly be more. Fair warning: This will include both positives and negatives.

Thoughts through 1K’s awakening:

-As a big fan of ‘let the non-humans be non-human’, there’s a default level of friction between what the writers wanted to do in TP2 and what I wanted.

The writers wanted to use TP2 to explore the nature of humanity; basically an excuse for how humanity might continue after an apocalypse. It just so happens that this time humanity is electronic.

I wanted to explore how machines would exist in a post-human world and what an all-machine society would be.

I’ll try not to let that influence my opinions of the story too much, but there will inevitably be bias.

-TP2 gets a lot of grace for keeping Elohim alive. I loved him in TP1 and I love that he gets to live on.

-TP2’s beginning mirroring TP1’s so closely was extremely clever, and it makes the contrast between TP1 and TP2 Elohim stark. He’s gone through a lot of character development.

-That said, Elohim’s also severely underutilized in TP2.

His exact nature is unclear – is he one intelligence that still has ‘access’ to all the programs? If so, do they realize the implications of them being one large network?

If there’s one Elohim per program, does Elohim ‘change’ with each program? So each one starts with a ‘base’ Elohim that grows as they do.

I’m inclined to go with the former. How he speaks to 1K implies that he’s aware of what’s going on with the world

I also suspect I’ve thought of this more than the writers.

-One more note about Elohim: You solve the puzzles at the start so he can ‘prepare your vessel’.

How does solving puzzles impact your mechanical body? How does Elohim make any changes to your physical body?

Writers, any time you care to expand upon this...

-The damaged terminal broke my heart the first time I saw it. Even though I know Milton is still ‘alive’ in some sense, it still does.

Its presence can’t be a coincidence; Elohim wants the new programs to know Milton’s gone.

As much as the two fought, I believe there was affection too. At least at one point before their relationship fell apart.

-There must be a way to break the starting area so you can get out of bounds, but I haven’t been able to find it.

-Why are the programs using voice to communicate? Voice is far more inefficient than means available to machines. Ping would be far more practical.

And it’s odd when the programs never spoke out loud in TP1. They always communicated silently or via text.

Further, we know the programs do engage in some machine behavior – QR codes rather than written text, for example.

I suspect this is an example of the writers taking it as a given that of course voice is used to communicate. They never considered how machines would.

-From the outset speaking to Neith it’s clear the writers have an agenda. Why weren’t the humans ready for a pandemic but invested so much to prepare for war is not subtle writing.

From what I recall of my last playthrough, I had the impression the writers were very angry about everything related to Covid and used the game to express it. Based on this conversation I suspect this playthrough will confirm it.

This was a major part of what I liked about TP1: It was much more even handed in how it treated each standpoint. While I suspect I know the writers’ preferred stance, one could reasonably play through the game taking one of the others and have a satisfying playthrough.

That’s much more difficult in TP2. One stance was the ‘obviously’ correct one, and you could take one of the others but have a poorer experience for it.

And while I agree with the ‘correct’ stance, that’s not my preferred storytelling.

[brightdarkness-2013]

Chapter 3: Out of the Frying Pan

For the next couple of days I sat in silence as people came in occasionally and looked at the old content rather than buying. Ignis as I had learned that he was called moved around the shop stiffly with a large fake smile. Trying his hardest to try and sell something, anything. Though his efforts were all in vain. The potential customers left without spending anything. I watched as he sat down with an exasperated sigh.

"... Try dusting."

"Huh?"

"The amount of dust present and smudges on the objects and glass will decrease sales by about 35%."

He stared at me for a moment. "And just what gives you the right to order me around?"

"I didn't mean to offend. It was just a suggestion."

He mumbled something as he went back to his computer. I took another glance around the room from my limited view. Everything besides the actual requests that he worked on were old and didn't look very appealing. So maybe offering to buy the useless modern tech would bring in more people. Then in addition he could fix those items up and resell them. He would have a much easier time. More income and a higher chance of selling the antiques. First off was dusting though. Feigning success would be better than trying to have someone feel bad enough to buy out of pity. Day four of that week and the old man started wiping down surfaces. He 'made it clear' that he was doing it because he wanted to and not because I suggested it. I tried my luck later that same day.

"Have you considered buying more modern items?"

"This is an antique store." He reminded coldly.

"That may be so, but buying, repairing, and selling may not be such a bad idea. More income and a higher chance of selling what you already have."

"Che. Whether you try and help me or not I'm still going to take you apart."

"I figured."

And so on fifth day some old clock was sold and I caught the look Ignis gave me. One of mild curiosity. Day six and he started advertising that he would buy broken electronics with a on the window. Hopefully that would catch enough attention for him get along fine. The old man wasn't too bad. I had learned of his dead wife and the son who had died in a car crash a year ago. He really hadn't been one of the lucky ones of late. So I suppose that in turn gave him to be a little cold. He did however like the boy, Claus. He reminded him of his son apparently. Day seven. Tomorrow I'd be taken apart. The base chip that kept the PET running would be of use to him apparently. I suppose that was enough of a reason. My last day was spent watching the man moving here and there as usual. This was the day. Ignis took a seat at the counter. He looked the PET over.

"If Claus doesn't show up you're not going to see another day."

"I am aware."

"... That's it? Not going to beg for your life or anything?"

"Why when it would only delay the inevitable?"

"Psh. You're something special alright." He scoffed as he set the PET back down.

Several minutes later and Claus came running through the door.

"I-... Ignis." He gasped. "P- please don't… kill him."

So I was to be deleted. Claus slapped the crumpled bills on the counter and the wad was accompanied with the musical clink of change. Hadn't seen actual money in a Long time. I had to wonder just how he got it. Ignis sifted through the mass. He was counting it casually as Claus gasped and caught his breath.

"Thirty four seventy eight." Ignis spoke.

"I- I'll get the rest. Promise. I'll even work around the shop for free and - and-"

"Bah. Just take the damn thing."

He shoved the PET across the countertop and Claus just caught it as it almost fell off.

"But I thought-"

"Just take it and go before I change my mind." Ignis turned away.

Claus smiled broadly at the man who had turned his back. "Thank you, Ignis. I'll make it up to you somehow."

With that he skipped out of the shop and down the street with the PET in hand.

---------------------------

Enzan was determined to search. After being confined to a bed after an explosion that had occurred by a mostly unknown enemy and then finding out that Netto and his friends had come back empty handed when they went to search the site had invented little pinpricks of doubt and yet built up hope at the same time. Having not found him was better than finding him broken. So just because they haven't been able to locate him didn't mean that they couldn't yet. If there was one thing Netto had taught him it was never to give up. Not that he'd ever give up on Blues. So he set out to find his Navi with a new determination that day with Netto and his friends. Having decided to check the area again before deciding anything else that was where they were headed. However once at site in question halfway through the area Netto pointed out something that was different since the last time that they had been there. On the first floor of the area there was many things turned over. Enzan grimaced at the thought of his PET, Blues, falling down from the third floor. Things would have to be just right for the PET to come out unscathed, without breaking even. The second and third had been untouched and so the investigation was on.

-----------------------------

This boy chatted on and on almost nonstop in his free time. However I had the patience to deal with it. I had spent many years with an emotionally broken child so a child who was happy go lucky most of the time should be easy to handle. The only problem was trying to get the kid to help me. Most likely he wasn't going to want to give me up after all the work he went through to scavenge that money to save me. Children were children and I had learned a long time ago that they didn't think logically and thought more selfishly.

His mother had almost the same personality as her son. However along with being a doting mother she also tended to be a bit of a clean freak. She could only relax completely with a clean house. At which point she sat back with a book or watched TV. The father I had yet to see. Not that it really mattered I suppose. It was obvious that he wasn't dead as Claus met me through his father needed a machine part for whatever reason. I was thankful for that. No dead parents meant that things should be rather easygoing.

Claus was good with math and science, but rather lacking with most other subjects so that ended up with me back to helping with a childs homework. As much as it was nice to get a change of pace I hadn't gotten any closer to getting back to Enzan. If anything I had gotten further. If the kid would just plug me into the net I could probably get somewhere where I could contact him or one of his friends. But the kid hadn't even gotten close to such a thing. I was in a bad situation sure, but it was still better than getting taken apart. From the frying pan to the freezer and now I was in neither. At least I wasn't in the fire.

"When am I ever going to use this?"

I pulled myself out of my thoughts at Claus' whining.

"Everyday."

Claus dropped his head onto the English textbook with an exasperated groan.

"The sooner you get this done the sooner you can do what you'd rather be doing."

"We can NetBattle with my friends?" He looked up.

I took a moment. "... It's late isn't it?"

"I guess. Tomorrow then?"

"Could you please focus? You're almost done."

"I'll take that as a yes!" The scratching of a pencil on paper dominated the new silence.

I shifted slightly. Honestly battling with this kid made me uncomfortable. It made me feel like I'd be betraying Enzan in a way.

Next

First

Masterpost

[internet-girl-friend]

Sega Saga

7:49am - Sep 28

I truly do not have a minute to spare, but now that I have started blogging I can't stop. Something about living alone maybe. Anyway, today is moving day. I must transfer my entire life from the West End to East Van and make it to Fortune for Sega Bodega at 10pm. Wish me and my extremely generous friends luck.

October 2 aside

Okay, so I have not had wifi at my apartment (I still don't; I am, once again, writing this from my day job) and have not had the chance to write the rest of this post until now -- so so sorry to all five of you.

Back to September 28

After spending the entire day moving and cleaning my old apartment I was finally ready to take a few hours to get hot for the show. I showered, conceptualized fits, responded to all my ignored texts, and started my makeup when a text from Allison arrived.

"The show is at 7." It was 7:15.

We thought the show was at 10, but TicketWeb even sent a reminder email that it was an early one. FUCK. At least this time we weren't committing our typical faux pas of arriving much too early.

I threw on my uniform (black skirt, tights, plain black top, leather jacket) and left for the show with wet hair. My fit was so boring and my hair was such a mess that I had no choice but to wear my tits as accessories.

I was so frantic, you'll never guess what I forgot. My fucking camera. So all the pictures you'll see were taken by me on Allison's camera or by Allison herself.

We got there in time to see a couple songs from the opener, Lexc Stacy, and he was really sick but much higher energy than Sega Bodega, so I was thrown off by the choice. I find that electronic(-leaning) shows in Canada prioritize both sets being independently Cool over developing and maintaining energy in the room like they do in The Netherlands (where I lived (and partied) briefly). I like to think of building a setlist for electronic shows as curating vibes or like, interior designing more than it is about showcasing how fire the contents of your USB are -- but what do I know? I don't DJ, I just fuck 'em.

I saw a weird number of people I know at the show (as a transplant, this doesn't happen to me often) and the audience was COOL AND HOT AND SEXY and age appropriate. Needless to say I felt way more aligned with the audience at this show than I have at the last couple (haha). Everyone was vaguely alien-looking.

Sega Bodega's set had markedly bad sound issues and I really felt for him. Having the audio fuck up for a show where the vocals are so delicate and the production is so aggressive is detrimental. But I was thrilled regardless. People had great concert etiquette and seemed to really be there For The Music.

There was a really touching moment where Sega introduced Um Um (a heartfelt song about SOPHIE) and everyone fell silent except to sing along and no one took their phones out despite it being an obvious fan favourite. There are few moments at shows I feel I could cry (and have cried) during but hearing this live was one of them.

My brother described Sega Bodega in San Francisco as "a ghostly illusion," and I agree. There was so much fog that I kept losing track of where he was on stage but the effect was fitting, him seemingly materializing in new locations. But also, literally not a single photo I took worked out (which is slightly unsurprising given that I am used to using my own camera and don't really know how Allison's works).

The light show was magnificent and fit each song perfectly. At one point he mixed clips of SOPHIE's "It's Okay To Cry" and the lights flashed manically between red and white and the crowd warmed up and danced tons. By the time his set was done everyone wanted more.

Allison said the concert was bad and while I enjoyed it, I can understand why she thinks so. If I weren't as big a fan as I am I'd likely have been underwhelmed to no fault of Sega Bodega. My one wish is that I'd been in the pit.

He played no encore, but we collectively begged. The sound guy didn't turn the house music on or the house lights up quickly enough and it felt like an evil tease. If the audio guy was a house tech I hope that it was just an off night, otherwise, I hope he has good transferrable skills...

Allison and I met a really cool woman out front of Fortune who had friends who helped organize the following show, SadBoi. The Cool Girl mentioned that there was another party at Red Gate happening later. Had I not been exhausted and feeling ugly and mildly grumpy I'd have let the night take its course -- fun exists here if you chase it and have the chance to do your hair beforehand.

Cost Breakdown

One tall can @ Fortune: $12.00

Frantic Uber ride: $8.00

Ticket: $20.00

Total cost: $40.00

1 note = 1 prayer that I make rent next month <3

[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

https://x.com/seokjinbit/status/1823579993265594436

idk if you care, but regarding suga dui (and you did say we would probably update you) there is footage now out and it is as unspectacular as you can imagine. he drives an electronic scooter at less than walking speed and then falls down as he arrives home, police is there to pick him up. according to them, they wanted to simply help him and then smelled the alcohol, did the test and the rest is history.

his testimony and the footage show that he also drove that thing for about 500m, nothing more nothing less.

however, regarding his bac, that might actually be 0.227% or 2.27. in his initial apology he stated that he had a beer, the next newsreport stated that it was above 0.08% (note: they didn't give a specific number they simply said above), which was important because it meant that he would get his licence revoked. a big newspaper stated that the police told them it was 0.227%, neither the police nor hybe have come out to refute that or comment on it. and hybe did release another statement clarifying somethings so the obviously could have.

(would like to note that in some countries you can lose your licence if you ride your bike at 0.227% so this is not particularly bad or harsh or weird)

given the fact that the scooter he drove had a seat that's not detachable its classification is i think that of an electric scooter (there was some confusion over this both on the end of hybe and the police, maybe it is still ongoing), which could mean that in the eyes of the law the case is handled more similar to if he was driving a car. that's more about law stuff and not about the reality of the situation or how it is perceived. the fine he will have to pay will be pretty hefty i assume (but i assume he will have no problem paying it). given the very unspecular nature of the footage i also assume his reputation in korea will recover.

all in all, yeah this is a crime and i don't want to make light of dui (even on something that isn't a car). i think paying a fine and getting his licence revoked are perfectly fine consequences for his actions, but apart from that... what is there really to say?

Thanks for the update! I saw the footage too.

He never said he had a beer though. I've seen multiple Army accounts on Twitter refute that. I don't think he was even the one who said it - might've been Hybe or another source -, but the expression, which literally means having a drink (or a beer?), is used to mean "going out to drink" or something like that. Anyway, he didn't claim to only have drunk a beer. Regarding his alcohol level, if your BAC is 2.27% that supposedly means you are drunk drunk, but he drove in a straight line and only fell because his front wheel got caught in the sidewalk, and he got up fine too... I doubt he was that drunk.

My thoughts on the whole situation: Yoongi drove in a straight line at near walking speed so the chances of him injuring himself or others were low. Let's face it, even if you walk home drunk, which isn't illegal even if you are shit-faced, you can bump into someone, or cross the street without looking (or stumble onto the street) and get hit by a car. A fine is more than enough imo. Getting his license revoked isn't even necessary, because after the drama he went through, do you believe he will ever do that again? Especially with everyone's eyes on him... But I'm not saying getting his license revoked is wrong. Yoongi doesn't even need his license because he has money and resources to have someone drive him around.

Anyway, everyone was having a great time trashing him on Reddit, Twitter, and everywhere else, wanting him to leave the group and saying he would even go to jail lmao, but now the truth's out suddenly everyone's very quiet and no one cares about Suga anymore. Typical.

Thanks for the ask!

[jacobwren]

“Comicopera then becomes progressively darker during its middle section, The Here and Now, as its scope expands to take in the war in Iraq. As an Englishman whose democratically elected leader had trotted into combat behind Bush, Robert Wyatt felt implicated. A Beautiful War is about so-called smart bombs, which even the US Air Force now acknowledges weren’t quite as smart as was claimed at the time. Out of the Blue shifts perspective to the effect of those bombs as they fell to the ground. Alfie’s lyrics were inspired by TV footage of a Lebanese woman left stupefied after her house had been blown to smithereens. From the apparently innocent opening detail, ‘No need to wipe your feet, the welcome mat’s not there,’ the track builds over jarring, jagged electronics and shards of free-jazz brass. We hear that ‘something unbelievable has happened to the floor,’ that the stairs have gone, and finally that the house has been blown apart. The climax comes with the repeated line: ‘You’ve planted all your ever-lasting hatred in my heart.’ Robert’s voice remains neutral, but it is the angriest line he has ever recorded – and one, he says, he would never have written himself.” – Marcus O'Dair, Different Every Time: The Authorized Biography of Robert Wyatt

[thosearentcrimes]

In the 1970s and 80s there was a chain of electronics stores in the New York media market that became quite famous for its over-the-top commercials. They hadn't invented that style of ad (which, as far as I can tell, rose and fell with the independent or small chain retail market), consisting of a very excited "insane" guy with a catchphrase about prices (His Prices Are INSAAAAANE!), but they flooded the Tri-State area airwaves with it.

I'm not really talking about this company because of their advertising, except in the sense that I am familiar with this company because my father told me the story of the ads once, while mentioning that he got some suspiciously cheap but good electronics there. You see, Crazy Eddie, named after primary ringleader Eddie Antar, was also a criminal enterprise and a fraud. According to one of the participants, Sam E. "Sammy" Antar, whose detailed and presumably highly misleading account of the case is available on his amazingly-named website White Collar Fraud, it had always been engaging in fraudulent accounting.

From its humble beginnings as a private company, profits were skimmed and employees were paid under the table, allowing the Antar family to, ah, manage their tax obligations. My understanding is that neither of these practices is or was particularly uncommon in the world of brick-and-mortar retail.

Now, as Crazy Eddie expanded, it became less and less reasonable to engage in petty fraud at that scale. What they had to do next was stop committing tax fraud. Not only would that allow them to avoid getting caught doing tax fraud, by progressively skimming less of the profit they would be able to appear to achieve an impressive rate of growth. This was all in preparation for the smart bit of the scheme, going public.

This is how it works. Stocks trade speculatively at a significant multiple of earnings. This means that if you control and own most of a company, if you can dump your own money into your company and then sell a significant amount of your stock, you can still easily come out well ahead. Soon, the Antars were painstakingly laundering money they had sucked out of Crazy Eddie while it was privately held back into the company past the not particularly vigilant auditors in order to look good to the financial markets.

Eventually the scheme started falling apart socially and financially, and the company suffered a hostile takeover from a competitor who subsequently found that there was $40 million less inventory than advertised. Caveat Emptor, I guess. Eddie Antar tried to flee to Israel but was extradited, upon later getting out of prison he tried to start another electronics retailer called Crazy Eddie, which surprisingly didn't work. Sammy Antar turned state's evidence and is now a fed-lite.

Why am I saying all this, why am I pointing out this particular case? Well, obviously it's because I think there are a lot of modern-day Antars running around making a lot of money, and presumably a lot of their CFOs are also going to flip and reinvent themselves as forensic auditors once they get caught. I assume most startups are somewhat more legal than anything Crazy Eddie did, but many of the market principles remain the same. In fact, corporate lawyers have developed more and more ways to do the same things the Antars did legitimately.

It is ironic that stealing from their own company was worthwhile for the Antars so long as the company was a serious business for them, albeit one that they were operating in a criminal manner, while pumping money into their company was only the correct thing to do once they were divesting themselves of ownership. Obviously this is just how tax evasion and pump and dumps work, but I find it contrasts interestingly with the capitalist dogma that ownership makes for better stewards of the property, still used as the primary political argument for privatization even though capitalist firms are also run managerially.

Ultimately, my takeaway is that the Antars were basically your regular shady retail guys, until they spotted an opportunity to get in on the ground floor of Shareholder Value Maximization. My other takeaway is if you get something cheap because someone is fucking the shareholders, mind your own business probably.

[worrywrite]

This reminds me of an assignment in a math class I had in college. It was the minimum required maths class any student had to take, and mostly it boiled down to how to use math to calculate interest and figure out your budget. Very practical class for low income folks (who were the majority of students).

Anyway, this assignment was pretty basic. Prof gives everyone a slightly different spreadsheet (I'm pretty sure there were only 2 or 3 variations total to keep us all honest) with a family's budget on it. Five person family plus a dog, some credit card debt and a mortgage, dad was sole earner and he was about to take a pay cut. So the goal was to figure out how to balance the budget so that one of a handful of different refinancing options for the credit card and mortgage would work. Basically, figure out which interest rates are the most liveable.

But, here's the thing. I hate math and I couldn't be bothered to do the very basic formulas on Excel to adjust the interest rates. This class was not my priority. So I just deducted what I deemed as unnecessary from the budget to make the pay cut work. I sent the dog to the pound, which saved money on food and cleaning. I cut the cable subscription. I eliminated "luxury" foods like coffee and wine. Stuff like that. And, ultimately, it worked. With a little wiggle room too, enough that the extra could go towards paying the principle on the mortgage and credit card so one could be paid off much faster than before.

And I handed that adjusted spreadsheet in.

And the professor pulled me aside after the next class. I'd gotten a 0. Not because I didn't adjust the interest rates like we were supposed to, technically it would have been a C by the rubric. It was because what I'd done was horrible. I had created a family budget without anything worth living for and no room to relax. There was no comfort in that family I had created on a spreadsheet, and the prof was genuinely worried about me. They made me do the assignment again, of course, because the course demanded it.

And I looked back on my life up to that point. And I realized that that is how I had grown up. And I hadn't been forced into it even. My family had never been very financially secure, but we had managed to get by with a little room for happiness. But I had never let myself be "happy" because I knew we were just barely over that line into the green zone. I had overheard my parents freaking out about how they were going to budget for as long as I have memories. Money seemed to be everything to them, and it had become everything to me even when I hardly had or used any of it. I lived extremely frugally and largely through the grace of others. I never spent a dime if I could avoid it. My clothes were all second hand, my food was ramen and canned tuna and cheap white bread and peanut butter, my electronics were all purchased for me by someone else as a gift and only contained free software, I never paid for games or subscriptions or services, I didn't have pets (not after the family cat was evicted), I didn't socialize if I could avoid it because socializing meant paying for things most of the time, and the list just went on.

And I was--I felt like wet cardboard that had been run through a shredder. That professor probably didn't even mean to imply that I lived that way. And I didn't exactly let on that I did; I had put a lot of work into being "normal," because that was important to me. I went back to my apartment after that class and the talk with the prof and I just sat there in my tiny cinder block room that I shared with a roommate, on my bare bones metal frame twin bed, in front of the drafty half-basement window, and just fell apart in my own head while I watched it snow outside.

I had already worked part-time retail before college for 7.25. I'd even gotten a five cent raise for doing such a good job (🤮) before leaving for school and living off of minimal student loans, small grants/scholarships, and savings. But I hadn't yet realized how disastrously worthless that money that I'd had was--how worthless that work and income had been--because I had lived like a corpse (and I was, up until basically that semester I took the math class, noticeably malnourished and underweight and corpse-like) buried in my parents basement. I hadn't really let myself realize that you could buy things to enjoy them. I was living like I was playing an RPG, hoarding all my consumables for some unknown boss fight and even then not using them because I wasn't sure if this was a real boss or some kind of mini-boss. I was ready to get to the end of the game with an absurd amount of unused potential and I hadn't even questioned it.

But this one dumb budget assignment changed that. And I'm still working on building a family that has fun and joyful things baked into our budget. I'm still working on using my consumables. I'm still working on eating better and sleeping better and living better.

I hope other people can see that taking things off of your budget isn't the answer. Metaphorically and literally. Because it isn't. The answer is to demand more from life if you can and to balance what you have carefully if you can't.

Anyway, thanks Prof. Q. I hope you're okay.

Every time I get groceries I’m always appalled at how little you can get for like, $20. I was making banana pudding so I needed vanilla wafers but the brand name nilla wafers cost $4 a box. The minimum wage in my state is $7.25/hr. My friend put it really well when he said “imagine you work for an hour and someone hands you two boxes of nilla wafers and said ‘actually this is a bit more than what I owe you’”

[chequerootlurks]

The author asked me to share this far and wide. Content is below, in case of paywall.

Please pass this along.

~ Muse

_____

On September 11, 2001, my husband and I raced down 24 flights of stairs after watching a passenger jet plow into the south tower of the World Trade Center six blocks from our apartment. We ran to what we hoped would be safety in Battery Park in the southern tip of Manhattan, only to be engulfed in dust and debris as the Twin Towers fell. For hours, we wandered in that choking cloud, until we were saved by one of the boats that spent all day ferrying people to safety.

Five days later, Christine Todd Whitman, the leader of the Environmental Protection Agency, assured us Lower Manhattan was safe and the air was clear. Ten days later, our landlord and officials from the city, state, and federal governments told us it was safe to return to our apartment.

We moved back on September 23. From our terrace, we could see crews digging 24 hours a day through the pile of twisted metal and charred steel. Fires smoldered at the site for months, and a sulfuric stench permeated the air. Every day, I wiped away the dust from every surface in the apartment, but every morning, a fresh layer of dust appeared, no matter how many washcloths we shoved under doors and around windows to keep it out. When we moved in 2005, I was horrified to discover just how much dust had settled beneath and behind furniture and in every hidden corner and crevice.

We now know the air in Lower Manhattan was far from “clear” when we returned to our apartment. It was toxic, filled with jet fuel, asbestos, glass fibers, and particles from pulverized electronics, cement, and other materials. Experts have compared breathing in the caustic dust to inhaling Drano. In the years since 9/11, that air has been linked to nearly 70 types of cancer and other illnesses that have since claimed twice as many lives as the attacks themselves. Whitman has apologized for falsely assuring the public the air was safe.

In 2010, Congress, after lengthy negotiations, established the World Trade Center Health Program to provide medical benefits to first responders and others whose health had been affected by the September 11 attacks. The program was extended by Congress in 2015 and covers people who worked in the rescue, recovery, or clean-up efforts at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, or the crash site of Flight 93 in Pennsylvania. It also provides benefits for people who lived, worked, went to school, or attended daycare in the New York City disaster area.

I have carefully kept track of the WTC Health Program and the Victim Compensation Fund (VCF) over the years because of my proximity to the disaster, and also because I am a licensed New York City tour guide. Since 2011—when the 9/11 memorial in New York officially opened—I have taken groups almost weekly to the memorial, pointing out the names of the nearly 3,000 people who died in the Towers on that day. I usually start my tours in the Memorial Glade, which was added in 2019 to commemorate the lives of those lost to 9/11-related illnesses. The site’s plaque reads, in part:

… whose actions in our time of need

Led to their injury, sickness, and death

Responders and recovery workers

Survivors and community members

Suffering long after September 11, 2001

From exposure to hazards and toxins …

For a long time, I didn’t think those words applied to me. But now, they probably do: At the beginning of this year, I began experiencing worrisome health symptoms. After a few tests, my doctor called to tell me I had uterine cancer. But I wasn’t completely surprised, because the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) had added uterine cancer to its list of WTC-related health conditions in 2023 “based on extensive scientific review and research.”

Because of that status and since my husband and I were among the 25,000 residents who lived south of Canal Street during the WTC cleanup, my cancer treatment should be covered by the WTC Health Program/VCF. But I have no idea if I will ever be able to claim those funds or receive any further treatments I might need, thanks to recent actions by our current administration.

The program benefits are supposed to last until 2090, but funding is shaky. A deal to include long-term funding in a spending bill appeared to have been worked out by Congress late in 2024, but criticism from Donald Trump, then the president-elect, and his adviser Elon Musk torpedoed that bipartisan spending deal. The smaller bill passed in December 2024 did not include funding for the 9/11 health fund, to the great disappointment of New York legislators, firefighters, and other advocates for the program.

Then in February, when I decided it was time to approach a doctor with my symptoms, I started seeing reports that the Trump administration had cut both funding and staff from the CDC, a move that would directly impact the WTC Health Program. After a strong bipartisan backlash, the funding cuts were reversed and some employees were rehired.

I had a full hysterectomy on March 27. While recovering, I submitted my WTC Health Program/VCF forms—just as a new threat to the funds became clear.

In late March and early April, the Trump administration announced plans to cut 10,000 jobs from the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), including the CDC, which oversees the National Institute of Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH)—the branch that runs the WTC Health Program. NIOSH was expected to lose about two-thirds of its staff, at least 873 positions, including doctors, nurses, researchers, and administrative workers. Then, around the first of May, layoff notices were received by nearly all remaining NIOSH staff, including at least 16 workers in the WTC Health Program.

With such drastic reductions to staff, applications to the WTC Health Program likely can’t be properly reviewed or processed, and critical services—and they are critical, because cancer rates for the affected population have been reported to be much higher than average—will grind to a halt.

Even before the recent funding and staff cuts, the program was struggling to provide timely services for the more than 130,00 people currently enrolled. I recently spoke to a boat captain who spent 13 hours ferrying people to safety on 9/11, spending hours inside the toxic dust cloud that hung over Manhattan that day. After losing half his jaw to cancer, he submitted forms asking for compensation from the Health Program more than a year ago but has heard nothing.

Michael Barasch of the law firm Barasch & McGarry, which represents more than 40,000 responders and survivors who have been diagnosed with cancer and other 9/11-related illnesses (including me), recently communicated his fears to me in an email. “If the layoffs are not reversed, 9/11 responders and survivors will die, needlessly,” he said.

Anyone trying to receive care through the program must have their illness certified as being related to 9/11 exposure and receive approval to begin treatment or file for compensation. Although HHS asserts that the program is functioning properly, Barasch and others affiliated with the program have said patients are not receiving the certifications they need to move forward with treatments.

Barasch said three FDNY employees with 9/11-related cancer have been denied treatment from the WTC Health Program just two weeks ago. “The program simply can’t function after these massive layoffs,” he wrote.

For the last two decades, I have worked to keep the memory alive of those who died on 9/11. I tell tour groups how first responders rushed in; I show them the battered Sphere statue and discuss how it was buried under tons of debris. I’ve written a book and multiple articles about my experiences on that day and in the months that followed, and I’ve shared my 9/11 story in churches, libraries, schools, and jails- not just across America, but in-person in countries such as Japan, India, and Madagascar. My husband is just as active, coordinating an annual event that raises funds for a scholarship at Clemson University in the name of his friend and fraternity brother who died in the North Tower.

My goal has always been to honor my country’s promise to “Never Forget.” To never forget the ones who died on the planes, in the towers, in the streets. To never forget the ones who rushed into burning towers. Or spent months digging through smoldering rubble. Or cleaned buildings and houses or taught school or sold groceries or rebuilt lives in the blocks around Ground Zero.

Now I raise my voice for myself as well as the thousands like me. We need this fund. We need the health care providers and the researchers studying our diseases and the staff who read forms and fill in databases. Our country promised to remember. Can we still count on that promise?

____

Christina Ray Stanton is a NYC-based writer and author, and a licensed NYC tour guide since 1995 who specializes in tours of the 9/11 memorial. She is one of only a handful of currently active guides to tour the World Trade Center complex both pre and post 9/11.