#especially since one of my classes surprise requires a webcam

[seth-the-giggle-fish]

my keyboard is all squeaky clean from it's bath

[astralsweetness]

I can’t be honest (but neither can you) || Changkyun/Reader (m)

➣ I cannot believe this is my first contribution to Monsta X, this is really how I’m entering the writing side of this fandom OTL Also hello idk how to write short summaries?? I proof-read this at 4:30 AM so please tell me if I missed something lol. Fair warning I switch P.O.V.’s often in this and with absolutely no regard to any writing rules

➣ Changkyun/Reader | Angst[?] with a surprisingly happy ending that I didn’t mean to write | Showcases some bad coping mechanisms from both he and the reader | Mentioned Wonho/Reader, but it’s purely platonic in a sexual way | Smut warnings include: mentions of choking, pegging, fingering, mentions of a ruined sexual scene, sort of self-imposed edging if you squint, hair-pulling, facesitting

➣ It’s been almost a year since he called off the relationship and your name still tastes like a mixture between sugar and ash on his tongue when he says it, your picture is still saved in his camera roll, and he’s taken the plunge these last few months to reach out to you to be friends again. His hyungs tell him it’s a bad idea, and he tells them he knows, because he does, really, he swears he does. It’s just that his heart soars when he gets to talk to you and he can’t remember why he was ever scared of letting you in past that last wall he’d put up, and he’s going to your place and he hates himself because instead of “I love you” he says “please fuck me” and even now he can’t be honest to you about his feelings.

“I want you to fuck me.” He’s standing at your door, speaking in English with that deep voice of his, and you just blink blankly at him - he hadn’t called or texted to say he was coming over, and to be completely honest you hadn’t seen him in over a week. The silence is uncomfortable, but his eyes are intense, and he refuses to shift shyly under your blank stare.

“..well, come in I guess.” You invite him in with raised eyebrows - he goes easily, knowing your apartment like his own home. It’s been almost a year since you two broke up, but he hasn’t forgotten anything. That same stupid plant he hated was still on your table. He had no idea how it was still alive.

“So.. we aren’t together anymore, we haven’t hung out in a while, but you decided I’m the person you want to fuck you. Suddenly.” Your tone of voice conveys your lack of belief - this sort of feels like some very strange joke, but you have no idea who’d ever come up with one like this.

“You fuck Wonho-hyung all the time, and you aren’t dating him, so why can’t you fuck me?” His words are said in a rush, the first sign of nervousness, and you cross your arms and cock a hip. It’s your default power-pose, lets you feel like you’re in control when you have no idea what’s going on.

‘Is that really all it is?’ you want to ask, but you stay silent. He doesn’t seem aware that when you’re with Hoseok it’s more for the other man’s emotional well-being than it was just to get laid. Sometimes people needed to be broken apart and pieced back together lovingly just to feel okay. For Hoseok, you were a friend he trusted enough to let break him and then take care of the pieces that remained shattered on the floor.

“If you tell me why then maybe.”

“I’m not doing shit for a maybe.” He fires back instantly, gaze narrowing. His shoulders have tensed and he’s widened his stance, an unconscious reaction to the way your own body language had changed. Whether he actually felt it or not, at a subconscious level he believed he was being threatened.

You step forward and snag him by the forearm - the fight goes out of him instantly, replaced by pure innocent confusion as you lead him to your bed. He notices dully that you’ve redecorated your bedroom - though it makes sense considering he was the one who had helped you liven it up before.

“Sit - and try to relax. All the muscles in your shoulders are tensing up.” Your words have the opposite affect you wanted them to have - he tenses more, seemingly thrown off by your care, your notice of his minute actions.

You watch the way his gaze drifts over your room – it catches and lingers on a group picture of you and the rest of his group, tucked safely into the frame of your vanity mirror.

It’s a nice picture, though you really don’t remember taking it. You’re fairly certain everyone was drunk though, since you’ve got your arm thrown around Minhyuk’s shoulders in it, pressing your cheek against his.

It’s cute, even if looking at it is bittersweet. You can see the question on his face, the ‘why did you keep this?’.

“It’s not like I stopped being friends with them just because we broke up.” You feel defensive over your choice, face heating – you weren’t even near him in the picture, on completely opposite sides in it. He just murmurs a soft “oh” that sounds dejected, and you desperately don’t want to think about it.

“Anyway –“ You’re desperate to move on at this point, and he seems to feel the same because his attention snaps back to you. “You’re not really in a position here to argue and make demands, but fine -“ It was just sex, right? For you, anyway. “I can’t literally right now, I have a class in 30 minutes, but if you tell me why then we can negotiate.” You feel like some sort of fucking dealer.

He seems vaguely surprised you’ve agreed so easily, but he works his jaw and tries to figure out how to explain his reasoning to you - whatever it may be. You let him think and go in search of your computer bag. Online classes were a pain, especially those that required attendance in the form of a webcam. The bag has been thrown into a corner of your room, and you sigh and bend down to begin your annoying search.

“Well, we’re not together anymore, so..” You crane your neck to look at him, even as you continue to rummage through your backpack for your computer cord. Damn thing was in there somewhere, you knew. “I don’t have to worry about what you think of me anymore?”

He finishes his statement with an accidental upwards inflection that turns it into a question, and your hands pause before you turn back around and continue searching, mulling over your word choice carefully. ‘You never had to worry’ sits on your tongue, something that is desperate to be said, but you swallow it back down. He wouldn’t believe you and it’d cool the current mood.

“I see.” You finally settle on, standing and popping your vertebrae back into place as your prize - the fucking charging cord - dangles from your hands. Your two words could convey many meanings, and you can see from your peripheral that his brow has furrowed. It’s not the answer he was expecting, though you think he probably didn’t know what he’d been expecting in the first place. “Then - what is it you want?”

“For you to fuck me.” He answers again, and then swallows as he notices your blank stare has returned.

“I know that, you said that. I meant what specifically are you looking to get out of this?”

“I want it to hurt.” His words make your breath catch in your throat, emotions swinging between vaguely turned on and worried. Sure, he’d had some masochistic tendencies in bed before, but - “I mean - I don’t – not physically -“ He’s switched to Korean in the wake of your silence, a comfort language, and you wonder if he even realizes he’s done it.

“Okay.” You respond simply in Korean back and he stops his rambling, just blinks at you. You see the tension finally start to drain out of his shoulders and switch back to English purely for your own sake, because it was easier, definitely not because you wanted to be able to hear his voice speaking your native language. “So long as you promise to use safewords, I won’t ask. I’m not your therapist and I’m not -“

“My girlfriend.” He finishes your sentence quietly, back to English as well, and your mouth goes dry.

“And I’m not here to judge you.” You remedy - you weren’t going to mention anything about your past relationship, and he looks away quickly at that realization. “You mentioned Hoseok -“ His hand twitches at his side when you call his hyung by his real name, but you mercifully don’t call him on this. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you’ve gone this long purely on the denial that he regrets breaking up with you, and it’s too late to stop that now. “- so I’m going to treat this situation exactly like that.”

“Okay?” Changkyun has no idea what that means, his fingers curling into your bedspread. You check the time - 20 minutes until class.

“I’m your friend, and I want to help you. This doesn’t change anything between us, this doesn’t add some extra dynamic, some extra layer.” Your voice has gone business mode and he’s stiffened his back at it, an ingrained response from being in the music industry for so long. “I’m not doing this just because I want sex - if you are, that’s fine, but I’m just doing this to help you out. Is that clear?” He nods once, eyes wide. You think he’s cute. You’ve always thought he was cute, and it reminds you of how cute turned into smitten and smitten turned into perfection and perfection turned into love and love - well, he ended love. “Changkyun - do you promise this is just about sex or release of some kind and nothing else?”

Your tone had softened, and he’d been let out of whatever thrall your no-nonsense voice had put him into. The question hangs in the air heavily, dripping of a nectar so sweet it’s sickening.

“Yes. I promise.” His voice is hoarse, cracking and quiet - and you think he’s lying.

But you’ve held on to your denial for so long. He had said before that the spark was just gone - and what were you supposed to say to that? It wasn’t his fault; people fell out of love all the time. You could barely believe he’d ever been interested in you from the beginning and you refused to believe you were worth falling in love with for a second time. The fact that you had managed to remain friends is more than you could have ever hoped for.

“Okay.” You repeat his assurance, more for your own benefit than his. The room is quiet, and thunder rolls in the distance. Fuck - a storm meant spotty WiFi for your class.

You check the time again - 15 minutes.

“We can use the stoplight system -“ His gaze has blanked so you take the time to roughly translate it into Korean, explaining until his brow smooths out, and then you’re back to English. “Aside from that, though, I need to know what you’re interested in, what you want to happen or don’t want to happen. You can hang out here if you want during my class, or leave, I don’t care - but take the time to think over what it is you want in this session.” Your words are too clinical, you know this, but you can’t keep yourself from doing it that way. You know most of the things he’s into and not into, but if you don’t take this route then it all feels too intimate. Besides, he’d always kept a very careful hold of how much control he’d let go around you before, never wanting to slip too far into subspace, always wanting to seem in command, even when subbing for you. You wonder if that’s changed. You certainly don’t remember him ever blatantly asking outright to have something done to him before.

Memories flash across your mind eye, his back covered in your scratch marks, the way he moaned brokenly when you pulled on his hair, the way he came when you pressed your fingers to his throat. But he never asked for any of it - you had to ask if it was okay to do to him, and he always brushed off any of your attempts of aftercare.

You swallow again, feeling vaguely sick. Things had been broken in your relationship long before he called it off, but neither one of you wanted to admit it. Your heart hurts for multiple reasons, but when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye you know the biggest one: ‘I hope I didn’t hurt him by not talking about it’.

But he didn’t talk about it either. Did he care about whether it hurt you?

“Is that okay?” He’s been talking to you, and you startle out of your thoughts - a half-formed little smirk dances at the corners of his lips, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. He knows you well enough to know when you’ve been drifting. “I said, I’ll stay here if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine - sorry, was just.. thinking.” It doesn’t really surprise you that he’s decided to stay - he’s confident to a fault, it’s true, but there’s a slash of shyness that strikes through his character, and you know that if he left he might not be able to come back. The thunder rumbles in agreement.

You half-watch him as you set up your computer on the coffee table – he’s looking around your apartment with thinly veiled curiosity, though you don’t really blame him. It didn’t really look anything like when you two had been together, and yet.. you felt it still had his subtle touch all over it. You wondered if he noticed that.

The class is boring, as it usually is – you’re watching the screen but your mind is far away, listening to your admittedly enthusiastic professor talk about the hyoid bone and articulations while your focus is on Changkyun. He lingers around you with a nervous type of energy, clearly not feeling allowed to roam around your apartment (it’d be kind of weird if he had, you admit) but also not feeling comfortable enough to sit on the couch next to you, even if he would have been off camera.

It’s almost like it was before, and you half expect him to sit down next to you anyway and throw his arm around your shoulder, always just off-screen, sitting next to you during your classes while he amused himself with his phone, just so he could be near you.

You’re just about to be able to feel the phantom warmth from the memory of his arm around you before he coughs and you startle, eyes snapping to him – he looks back wide-eyed, not understanding your surprise but murmuring a quiet apology anyway.

God you were so fucked.

.｡..｡.

“So?” The instant your class had ended you’d snapped the computer lid shut – you hadn’t retained a single thing said, what a complete waste. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d skipped and focused on Changkyun in the end after all. “Did you decide on what you wanted?”

You’re so flippant with your question that he feels like he’s being asked about what it is he wants to eat instead of how he wants to have sex – the entire hour of your class he’d been nervous, and those nerves had by now tightened into a very tight ball at the base of his spine that periodically sent white-hot flames licking along his muscles.

“I –“ His mouth is so fucking dry and he hates how small he suddenly feels – he’d never felt like this around you before, but usually it had always been you asking if you could do something to him, hadn’t it? “I said it earlier. I want you to fuck me.”

He watches your reaction with pin-point precision – the small widening of your eyes, the way your gaze darts to the side like it always did when you were thinking something over – it wasn’t like you hadn’t ever fucked him before, but he’d never asked you to do so, and you clearly hadn’t expected him to come out with something like that so easily.

Why the hell could he say something like that and not something as simple as ‘I love you’, or even ‘I miss you’?

“Okay.” You’ve wrested your thoughts back under control – it wasn’t fair of him to say something like that, looking so utterly and effortlessly attractive. “As long as there’s no kissing I’ll fuck you any way you like, Changkyun.” You were over him and he was over you and this was just sex.

If you said it enough you’d start to believe it, right?

Changkyun just nods at your terms, looking a bit despondent – you can’t help the strong surge within you that says to fix it, fix whatever upset him, but you have a feeling you knew already. He’d always been a bit fixated on kissing you, but you knew if you let him this time then it’d all be over.

“I don’t remember you ever falling this far into the ‘submissive’ side of things, Changkyun.” You’re desperate to regain the upper-hand, and he flushes a bright red at your comment, grumbling out a weak “shut up” that has you smiling.

“Have you been experimenting?” You’re still teasing him but he bristles at the insinuation that he would have been with anyone after you – you had no reason to think he hadn’t been but the mere thought of being with anyone other than you makes him ache deep in his chest, in his soul.

“No.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but it wavers still and he digs his fingernails into the soft leather of his belt, pausing. “I haven’t been with anyone since –“

He can’t say it, but you understand regardless – he doesn’t like how surprised you look, ducks his head and lets his hair obscure his view of you as he refocuses on undressing. It’s not that you’d been wrong to be surprised with his decision for today, either – before you, he’d never really definitively considered himself particularly dominant or submissive, happy with having the choice to be either at the drop of a hat. That changed with you though – you had been so uncompromising with your power, beautiful and self-assured, and he knew without a doubt that if you so much as even hinted at it he would be on his knees for you every single time.

Not that he had ever told you that, of course. He’d never told you anything he really wanted to. Even now, with you looking at him softly, trying to see if you’d crossed a line with your little teasing jabs, the words ‘I’m happy being this for you’ get stuck in his throat and all he can do is tug his shirt over his head wordlessly, fingernails clicking nervously at his belt as he undoes it. You pretend not to notice the way your heartrate accelerates as he reveals his body bit by bit to you, slender waist but powerful figure, beautiful skin, beautiful body.

“Well, then – lie down.” You gesture to your bed and he swallows down the stupid fucking butterflies he gets at the gesture – he’d been on your bed before, he’d been in this position before, there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

And still, despite his nerves, a pleasurable chill runs down his spine when he hears the cap of the lube being clicked open, and he forces himself to exhale as he shifts and tries to get comfortable on a comforter he no longer recognized, in a room that had no trace of him in it anymore.

You look at him with a level gaze, always so calm, and he ignores the erratic beating of his heart and nods his assent for you to begin, immediately shifting his gaze to your ceiling.

Why the fuck was he so goddamn nervous?

(He tries to forget the way he instantly whimpers when he feels your finger, slick with lube, probing at his rim, tries to forget the way he gets hard in under a minute from your heavy gaze and one finger alone, and god he aches for more, aches for anything you’re willing to give him.)

“You’re taking this awfully well.” The teasing comes out unbidden, spilling past your lips before you can even think about the words – but it’s true, for someone who had claimed to not have been with anyone since you he was taking your fingers incredibly well.

“My own hands – fuck – exist..” His snarky response turns into a shaky moan halfway through when you decide to carefully – but quickly – add a third finger. There’s something erotic (and interesting) to you about that, thinking over the fact that Changkyun had been finger-fucking himself ever since you two broke up.

“You look good like this.” It’s an attempt to make up for the previous teasing but all it does is cause him to groan and throw a forearm over his eyes, legs spreading wider when you hit that spot deep inside.

“Fuck, jesus – fuck..” It’s a broken sob instead of an actual sentence (though he manages to stick with English), a familiar feeling already building deep in his gut. He’s not sure if it’s because it’s been so long since he’d been fingered by someone else or if it’s because it’s you doing it, complimenting him while doing so, or if it’s a combination of everything, but his back arches against his will and he knows he is seconds away from coming undone already.

“Stop – stop, oh my god –“ At his desperate plea you stop moving completely and he wants to sob as the pleasurable feeling slowly ebbs away, an almost painful drag as it settles back into a dull burn. He’s gasping, tiny whimpering sounds as he sucks breath back into his lungs, chest heaving – his eyes are wide, fingers curling into your comforter. He looks frantic, frightened almost, and even if it wasn’t your responsibility you knew you’d be desperate to fix it.

“Changkyun, ar –“

“I’m fine.” He bites it out angrily, doing his absolute best to look like he had been anything but moments away from an orgasm five minutes into.. whatever this was. He’s shutting you out again, before anything even begins, and it fills you with such an irrational anger that you have to suck in a breath of your own to keep from lashing out, taking gentle care to extract your fingers even as your blood boils.

“Stop fucking lying to me.” You can’t keep the ice from your words, even if you manage to control the volume and pitch – his dark eyes snap from the ceiling to you in surprise. There’s a panicked feeling bubbling up in his chest, because he really doesn’t know if he can handle you calling him on his true feelings for you right now, doesn’t want to have to admit he still loves you while he’s naked and so vulnerable.

“I’m not –“

“Stop it.” His mouth shuts with an audible click of his teeth, so sudden is your cut-in. Your brow has smoothed out, no longer angry, instead immensely sad, and he’s not sure this is any better. “You said you wanted to do this because you didn’t have to worry about my opinion. So why are you still doing it?”

He can’t breathe, and the lube is drying sticky on your fingers, and for a moment neither of you are aware of the position you’re in, the way the thunder has become your constant background music – he’s looking at you unblinkingly and you’re staring back, and it’s too intimate, too much, but neither of you look away.

“Please stop.” He speaks and it’s barely a whisper, the sound of someone’s heart breaking louder than his voice. You don’t know what to say but open your mouth anyway.

Lightning flickers outside your bedroom window and then your apartment is shaking from the resounding thunder, the power flickering and then plunging the two of you into darkness. Suddenly you can breathe again, and you’re quickly trying to slide out from in between his legs because he said ‘stop’ and he was fully coherent even if he hadn’t said ‘red’, because he said ‘stop’ and you have only ever wanted him comfortable.

“Wait –“ He is frantic, grabs your forearm with frigid fingers as he leans half off your bed to catch you from retreating too far. It’s hard to see him but you get flashes from the light outside your window, electricity reflecting off his dark eyes in starbursts.

“You said to stop.” Your voice is broken and you feel so powerless, sick inside because while you rarely manage to ruin a scene it still tears you up inside each time, and Changkyun wouldn’t let you try to fix it with aftercare and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“I meant –“ Stop talking, stop laying me bare and open, just fuck me and make me forget everything, stop being you so I can stop loving you. “I just want to be ruined.” He says instead, and his voice is so low but so weak that you barely recognize it.

“I can’t do that if you don’t let me.” Your clean fingers curl around his and gently pry them from your arm – but then you keep holding them, and you want to let go but you can’t remember how to tell your body to do so. “Will you let me, Changkyun?”

The air is still and silent aside from the rain slashing angrily at your windows – there is no thunder, your own heartbeat loud enough (or maybe it was his, you didn’t know anymore).

“I want to.” He answers instead, voice quiet but a bit stronger than before, and your eyes have adjusted so you can see the features of his face vaguely now, follow the line of his brow to his cheek to his lips, and you’re leaning in and you hate yourself because you had promised this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.

“Let me wreck you then, baby.” And oh that nickname was a mistake but you’d said it anyway, a ghost of a whisper against his lips, a proposition and a plea all in one. He moves forward the last centimeter and connects your lips as an answer, a sound that is almost one of pure relief being ripped from his throat.

It’s like he’s been waiting years for this moment, doesn’t even fight as you grip his jaw lightly and angle him into a better position so you can scope out the inside of his mouth with your tongue, relearning things you had known long ago but had thought were forgotten.

There’s a flighty feeling in his chest, one of nervousness and expectation – he doesn’t want to give you control so easily, he doesn’t want to be opened and laid bare in front of you, he doesn’t want you to see something you dislike in him – but more than anything he wants you to touch him and keep kissing him and god he fucking misses you, has missed this. He’d asked you to ruin him, you’d asked to wreck him, but he knew he was already both ruined and wrecked just from being near you again, from having your lips on his own.

You try to slide your hands back down his body but he stops you, continues to kiss you as his fingers curl around your own, and the act is so intimate it almost feels wrong.

“Just – hurry up, I’m ready enough.” He manages to say scattered between four different kisses, never apart from your lips for more than a few seconds. You hate yourself for not even trying to stop him, leaning into them each time.

“You can stretch yourself some more while I get ready.” You have to pull away from him completely to say this, and he follows you like you’ve got some magnetic pull on him before you’re off of the bed and the connection is broken.

Even with your eyes adjusted it’s hard to properly get the harness on, fingers fumbling with the straps but managing in the end. You can hear him breathing harsh, anticipating – you can tell from the sounds alone that he hadn’t taken your advice, but you’re not surprised. Always your little pain slut, even if he had never wanted to admit it.

When you approach him again his eyes are wide, brow furrowing as he notices you’re still fully clothed – he keeps his mouth shut tight though, gaze darting in the dark. The storm still rages on outside but neither of you even notice it anymore.

Your fingers on the inside of his thigh startle him – he jumps, trying to close his legs, but you force them back open again. Something about that simple action makes a moan trickle into his throat, but he swallows it back down stubbornly.

He can’t conceal the next sound he makes when you press the blunt tip of the strap-on to his opening, though, a rasping whine as you push in slowly, so fucking slowly. Even with all the lube he knew you’d slathered over the toy it still takes a bit of work to get it into him, and every slight stretch makes him grit his teeth in a masochistic type of pleasure, feeling so full by the end that it makes him so painfully hard his head spins. It hadn’t taken long to get him worked back up, but he’s not really thinking about that right now.

All he knows is that he wants to be close to you, wants to feel good, wants to make you happy – he wants so much that he doesn’t think he can even begin to put any of it into words. It always ends up at ‘I love you’ and he already knew that was a phrase that lodged in his throat like knives.

“Please.” This he can say – you don’t know what he’s begging for but he’s begging all the same, the word ‘please’ becoming a chant that slowly shifts back into his native tongue when teeth mark his throat, fingertips pressing insistently into his hips as you fuck him hard and rough. He hopes, distantly, that it bruises. He wants to be able to remember this for as long as possible.

If he was present enough in the moment he might have been embarrassed by the sounds he was making – his naturally deep voice has transformed completely into high breathy whines, all trace of his ‘savage rapper’ persona gone when you bite his lip hard enough it throbs before you’re flipping him, pushing his shoulders down into the bed with one hand.

The feeling of your palm, small but blindingly warm on his back, makes him weak enough that his thoughts stutter, head a chaotic mess of fractured thoughts and sensations. His eyes are open but unfocused – it’s dark in the room anyway, but he’s unaware of it, cognizant only of your presence and his, that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest competing with the white-hot fire you were stoking lower in his pelvis.

You want to cry at how beautiful and perfect he is for you, the way he arches his back instinctively, presents himself as your own personal plaything – but he wasn’t yours, you had to remember that, remind yourself over and over that this was just sex. (If you repeated it enough it started to stop sounding like real words, and that was equally as dangerous as forgetting them in the first place.)

The head of the strap-on teases his entrance and he groans, clenching his fists into your pillow – you’d taken it out when you’d flipped him and he was fighting against every fucking urge and want and need his body was screaming at him to just take the plunge and force himself backwards. (But another part of his brain is telling him to wait, to make you happy, to draw this out as long as fucking possible because he has no idea if he’ll ever get to experience it again.)

“Can you tell me what you want?” Your voice is soft as silk, quiet, and a fluttery feeling rises up in his stomach at the sound, at how you’ve modified an order to be a request. He doesn’t know how he feels at the realization that you were taking it ‘easier’ on him verbally, that you had at some point come to understand he was having trouble letting go completely.

“I –“ He tries, he really fucking does, but like always the words get stuck in his throat. He just can’t seem to bring himself to admit what he really wants out loud and it is destroying him. One of your hands smooths down his side, lingering at his hip, and he feels like you’ve left behind a line of pure fire on his skin, almost burning away the shame and hatred he feels at himself for his fucking inability to be vulnerable, his cowardice.

“Just fuck me.” He says instead, defeat coating his words – and he can feel you hesitating, because it was obvious he’d meant to say something else and hadn’t.

He opens his mouth to say something, though he has no idea what, at the same instant you decide to slide the strap-on back into him. Whatever he’d been planning to do is gone from his mind instantly, his world reduced to just the dull burn, the frustratingly slow drag against his innermost walls, the way you manage to somehow brush up against the spot that has him trembling and dropping to his forearms. He curses in a strange mixture of Korean and English and you laugh softly at the sound, even as you slide out and thrust back into him hard enough that he jolts forward.

He feels, in a sense, like he is being broken in all the best ways – all he can focus on is you, all he can feel is the way you’re fucking him, grabbing at his hips. His breath is caught in his throat and he just knows he is going to ache later, bone-deep and satisfying.

But it’s not enough, never enough – you’re not asking to do more to him like you had in the past and he can’t manage to tell you what he desires most (though, at this point, he’s not totally sure he could say anything coherent anyway). He reaches back with one hand, groping – your fingers wrap around his and he drags them up to his hair, a wordless plea. He hopes you understand what he’s asking for.

A broken moan is ripped from his throat when you fist your hand in dark strands and pull backward, forcing him into an arch – his mind has blanked into varying shades of white, electricity on his skin and molten lava running through his veins, your heat against his back overwhelming.

You know it’s a bad idea before you do it, but you lean down and press you lips to his shoulder anyway, teeth scraping over feverish skin – the hoarse whine he gives at the feeling makes wetness pool between your legs, uncomfortable and wrong because this was just sex, this was just supposed to be for him.

The urge to mark him up is so strong it’s almost distracting – your hips falter in the bruising pace you’d set as your mind drifts, Changkyun groaning at the sudden shift in speed.

“Let me –“ He’s gasping, feels like he’s been running a fucking marathon or drowning (and oh, he has, drowning in you, in his expansive and terrifying feelings for you) but he knows your hips have to be sore by now and to be completely honest he is just downright greedy, wanting to feel you deep inside, wanting to –

He just wants so much. He reaches back to press at you gently and you let him move you instantly, trying to figure out what had bothered him – as soon as you realize he just wants a change in position you’re grabbing at his hips again, tugging him over your legs. His cock drags against the fabric of your shorts and he nearly sucks in a breath, trying to focus on lining himself up instead of the way it throbbed (or the way you were looking at him, hair splayed out on the pillow and yet so in command still).

He thinks he should feel more in control like this, on top of you, hands braced on your shoulders – but he doesn’t, not at all, and he knows instantly that he isn’t when you snap your hips up to meet his and he falls onto you, moan vibrating against the skin of your neck. He can feel your fingers in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, can feel the infuriatingly teasing way his cock is rubbing up against your fucking shirt you never took off. It’s gone untouched for so long that it’s absolutely aching by now and he thinks he might actually be able to orgasm like this – but he doesn’t want to, not yet, even with how border-line painful its become. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to have to go back to a world without you in it.

His hips stutter on top of yours when you tug on his hair again, grinding hard against the strap-on, and you lift his face high enough you can press your lips to his, all hot breath and panted moans. He tastes of honey and heartbreak and you want nothing more than to make him cum and fall apart, trembling, on top of you.

“Am I ruining you properly, baby?” Your voice is dark red and sinful, and he trembles at the sound and tries to seek out your lips again, a whine lodged in his throat when you tighten your grip on his hair and keep him in place, rolling your hips languidly up to meet his frantic movements. “Tell me.”

“Fuck..” He responds instead, deep and rough in his chest – it cracks into a high moan when you punish him with a harsh upwards thrust, fingers curling into your shoulders. Your soft laugh, amused or delighted he’s not sure, makes a feeling like electric butterflies break out across his skin. If you had let go of his hair he’d have buried his face into your neck again to hide his expression – but you haven’t, and he knows you can see everything, every part of him, every expression he makes.

He thinks he must look stupid, embarrassing – but all you see is pure beauty. His brow has furrowed and sweat drips down to his collarbones, bruised lips parted slightly, glistening from where you’d kissed him earlier. Hazy eyes try to look anywhere but your face failingly, allowing you to see the foggy galaxy residing in their darkness. You’re not sure if what you’re seeing is his pupil or iris, but you find it gorgeous all the same, intoxicating.

“I’m going to make you cum, Kyunnie.” He shakes at your dangerous words, your knife-sharp gaze. You’re aware he never responded to your last question. “You’ll fall apart up there, ruined, just like you asked to be.”

Your words wrap around him, coiling tightly like chains – he feels caught, trapped, and he wants nothing more than for you to make good on your word, even if it sends a sharp trill of fear through his stomach.

The grip on his hair lets go suddenly and he sags forward, as if your pull on him had been all that was keeping him upright. He’s left a mess of pre-cum on your shirt, flushes a dark red when you drag your fingers through it thoughtfully.

“Messy boy..” You muse, heat spreading through you when you see the way his cock jerks at those two simple words, so red and aching, so fucking beautiful and desperate.

Fuck, you wanted so badly for him to be yours.

One of his hands flies to your wrist when you finally wrap your fingers around him – more of his weight is on you now but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not with the way he’s breathing hot and wet against your neck, the way he doesn’t stop you when you move your hand, just clings to your arm desperately like he’s not totally sure he wants to be touched yet.

A choked sound leaves his mouth, lips bitten bloody, and you turn your head so you can breathe against his ear, let him press his face further into your neck. “Such a little whore..” You murmur, and he sobs open-mouthed against your skin and thrusts weakly into your fingers and then back onto the strap-on, unsure of which feeling he wanted more of. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

A part of him feels like he’s dying, unsure if he was really okay with being so vulnerable with you – but another part of him, the larger part, feels like he is fucking soaring, like this is all he had ever wanted and more. There are flames licking at his body, coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last like this.

“You can fall, Changkyun.” Your voice is in his ear, like the sound of silk sliding over skin, fingernails tracing lightly along the back of his neck. He hates the way he reacts so viscerally to it, climax surging forward at the sound, at the way your fingers slide wetly over the head of his cock pinned in between the two of you. “It’ll be okay, you can fall to pieces. I’ll catch you.”

He orgasms with a wail that makes him flush a dark red, and he would have been mortified at the sound if every nerve ending in his body wasn’t currently sparking, his muscles spasming as he tries to keep thrusting into your fist even as the lightning bolt sensations turn from overwhelming to painful. He doesn’t even realize tears have slipped from his eyes until he feels your lips kissing them away, and he is hit with such a wave of emotion that he can’t breathe all over again (and it is just pure emotion, he couldn’t identify a single one of them if he tried).

After you slowly pulled out and settle him on the blankets he watches, distractedly, as you slide the straps down over your hips, leaving it on the floor to be dealt with later. Impulsively he reaches out to catch the edge of your shorts when you try to head to the bathroom, tongue sliding over chapped lips when you turn that powerful, beautiful gaze of yours on him. One of your eyebrows has raised, appraising him as he slowly tugs you back to the bed until you’re resting on your knees next to his waist. Sweat is drying sticky on his skin and he’s trying not to feel like he’d done something wrong, reacted in some undesirable way that you’d remember and relate to him for the rest of your life - but above all that, he wants to taste you. It’s the only consistent thought running through his mind, more prevalent than the lingering unease at having bared so much of himself to you.

“Please.” Again, it’s all he can say, eyes so dark and wide, pleading – his fingertips rest lightly on your hip, over the waistband of your shorts, lips parted ever so slightly. It’s so obvious what he’s asking for, and you want to say no. You’re pretty sure you need to say no. “Babe –“

You surge forward to cut him off mid-sentence with a brutal kiss and he gasps – you didn’t want to hear that, and you can tell from the way he’s frozen that he hadn’t meant to say it, even as his body returns the kiss on pure muscle memory alone. This entire experience had been a mess, a mistake, and yet –

“Okay.” It’s more a breath against his mouth than a word, but the way he smiles at your soft agreeance makes your heart hurt. You were in so deep, had fallen so far – how foolish of you to think you had been over him. How fucking stupid you’d been.

He wastes no time, pulling your shorts and underwear down like he’d done it hundreds of times before – because he had, you note dully – fingers wrapping around your thighs. When you sink down onto his face a tension drains out of his body that neither of you had even noticed was still lingering.

All he can smell is you, all he can taste is you – you surround him and this is all he’s ever fucking wanted, to be possessed by you, to be as close to you as possible. He’s not even totally sure what he’s doing aside from the fact that he’s putting his absolute all into it – he’s just trying to taste every inch of you he can, tongue delving as deep as possible before switching to suck on your clit. There’s no rhyme or reason to his method and it has you letting out a quiet sigh that borders on a gasp. He tries to memorize the sound instantly – any sound he could get out of you was a treasure in itself, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to hear them again after this.

There is no particular build-up to your orgasm – it’s at first lingering briefly bone-deep and then suddenly it is upon you in streaks of lightning, hips grinding against his face but mouth stubbornly shut. You can’t let this be any more intimate than it already was. (And yet you instinctively reach down and lace your fingers with his, and his thumb smooths across the back of your hand as he continues to mouth at your cunt, drink up your fluids. You are so utterly and completely stupid, your heart in your throat.)

There is a moment you want to carve out afterwards, a small bubble in time where the two of you could just bask in the afterglow and pretend like nothing had changed from a year ago – but you can’t let yourself do that, pushing yourself up off the bed even as every fiber of you begs to remain beside him for a moment longer. His fingers remain holding yours a moment too long before dropping to your bedspread, defeated.

Your heart suddenly felt like it was three sizes too big for your body, filled to the brim with love for a man you knew you’d have no second chance with, and you clench your teeth tightly to keep it from oozing out between your teeth like bittersweet sugar.

He’s still panting when you return with a damp cloth, reaches for it as if he really expects you to make him clean himself off. You scoff and catch his hand with your own, setting it back down on the bed as you begin to clean off his face first. Whether you wanted to avoid intimacy or not there were things you simply refused to throw to the wayside just because you wanted to remain distant, and one of those was taking care of him after sex. (He’s more receptive this time than he used to be, not fighting you and claiming he was fine, letting you dote on him with a sort of hesitant and soft acceptance. It makes your heart hurt all the more, the pure ache and want almost unbearable.)

“You’re always so messy..” It’s meant to be a light comment but the two of you accidentally lock gazes when you say it, your hand stalling in its motions. He looks like he wants to say something, lips parting – your breath catches in your throat, waiting, but he ultimately just shuts his mouth, gaze darting away from you. Your breath leaves you in a small burst. “Just relax, Kyun, I’ve got you.”

It’s the typical words you say to a sub after an intense session (with an accidental affectionate nickname that you bite the inside of your cheek for), but you mean them, and you don’t want to, but you do, irrevocably. You know that if he needed it, if he asked for it, you would let him stay here for as long as he wanted. You knew that tonight you wouldn’t be asking him to leave. And for that you are so, so incredibly fucked. (You wonder if he is too, judging from the way his eyes widen at the nickname and his breath stutters – but you crush that thought instantly, don’t dare to get your hopes up.)

He’s surprised that you take the time to clean him up, bring him water and a change in clothes – they aren’t his but they’re clearly a man’s, and he wonders if they belong to Hoseok considering the size. Something deep in his chest hurts at that thought. He’s even more surprised when you pull on an oversized shirt instead of telling him to leave – he faintly realizes that he recognizes it, a soft violet that hung down to your lower thighs and always felt soft against his chest when he’d hold you – crawling into bed next to him after changing into it, though he’s automatically moving to accommodate you, perfectly content to throw the thick comforter to the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Is.. this okay?” Your voice is quiet, so tentative and soft and hesitant, and all he wants to do is tell you yes, this was more than okay, this was everything he had ever wanted.

“Yeah – I mean, it’s your bed, so..” He hates himself for the way he responds, swallowing hard but taking the initiative to slide his arm over your side, nose in your hair. He can feel the way you tense, but you don’t say anything against it or try to pull away. “And.. this? It’s okay too?”

“…it’s okay.” It’s a small response but he inhales deeply in relief, drinking in your scent half by accident. It’s the same smell he had missed for so long, the one he’d dream of and wake up thinking there was a chance it still lingered on his pillow, heart dropping through his ribcage when he realized it wasn’t.

Despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach you fall asleep fast, mentally drained and physically exhausted - his fingers trace the line of your shoulder, head pillowed on his own arm as he watches you sleep. There is a purely warm and happy feeling trying to spread through his body, but it doesn’t make it very far before the remembrance that you still weren’t his and he still wasn’t yours freezes it in its tracks. He feels like his heart is melting, dripping through his ribs and oozing into his stomach and making him sick.

He’s shaking your shoulder before he even knows what he’s doing, and you’re half-awake and groggy but so fucking beautiful and every single one of his nerves feels like a live wire underneath his skin, buzzing and loud and painful, and he is so scared, but he is also tired. Tired of hurting, tired of missing you, tired of the way Kihyun will be talking about you but stop awkwardly when he notices Changkyun listening, tired of the way he smiles so big his cheeks hurt when the two of you talk on the phone, tired of how he swallows down the words “love you” every time you hang up – and he’s fucking tired of being scared most of all.

“Changkyun, you better be fucking dying..” You’re angry, always angry when woken suddenly, and he just wants to kiss you.

‘I love you, I’m stupid, I was scared, I always loved you, I never fucking stopped, did you know I would dream of you? Did you know that you were the only thing on my mind? On plane rides, in the vans, backstage, all I could think about was you and my hyungs all told me I was just hurting myself and I knew that but I still hoped that somehow you and I would end up happy together.’

Like always he can’t say any of it. It sits on his tongue and he just utters a quiet ‘fuck’ instead, throat tight. Why couldn’t he fucking do this?

“..Kyun?” He’s sitting up now, and you are too, side by side – your expression is open, sleepy but worried, and he has a sudden urge to take your face in his hands and kiss your eyelids.

The scariest part of telling the truth, of laying yourself bare for someone, of letting them in, was that they could take one look and never come back. And maybe he’s not afraid of loving you – maybe he’s never been afraid of loving you, with your eyes that hold the only stars he ever wants to look at. Maybe he’s been afraid of not being loved back.

He swallows hard, reaches for every bit of confidence and courage performing has ever given him, forces himself to be brave the way the industry has taught him to be. Moonlight filters in through the window and he thinks your eyes might actually house the milky way in them somehow.

“I love you, still – always. I never stopped.”

He can’t breathe because you’re just looking at him, stunned and disbelieving, tears collecting on your lash-line but not falling, never falling, and he feels like the fucking worst for telling you now, this way, this bluntly – but he knows if he didn’t say anything he would have never said anything, and he’s not sure he could have survived that, so the words had fallen from his lips hard and heavy and desperate to be said. (And a part of him is still surprised he even managed to say them at all, rushed and frantic as they were.)

“I –“ Your brow is furrowed and your voice is thick, but when he reaches to brush your tears away you let him and his lungs start to tentatively fill themselves with oxygen again.

When you smile it is watery and weak but it is there, and he feels like sunlight has reappeared in the lining of his skin, bright and blinding and warm.

[head28regan-blog]

sex on show

free webcam chat with bbw CHAT ROOMS are "places" on the Internet just where end consumers can have reside, two-way conversations by implies of textual content material messages. Chat rooms can accommodate enormous figures of gentlemen and women, who can read through by means of and respond to each and each and every other's messages. Some chat rooms are especially attractive to youthful World wide web shoppers. Tens of hundreds of thousands of youthful individuals from a assortment of cultures exchange views day-to-working day on almost any subject matter matter. Some educational institutions now faucet this international beneficial useful resource. For case in point, with their teacher's supervision, students in the United States may speak about social difficulties with fellow school students in Spain, England, or somewhere else. Pupils may possibly even chat about their class venture with a skilled engineer, chemist, or an added expert. Many individuals who check out chat rooms, despite the fact that, are not there to go in excess of academic subjects. If you have accessibility to the Net, what dangers want to you be knowledgeable of? A Browsing Flooring for Sexual Predators "I was chatting with some men and women in a chat area," says Abigail, "when a dude asked me if I understood any fourteen-calendar 12 months-olds. He needed to have intercourse with them. He described that he was geared up to give them income for sexual intercourse." Abigail's come across is not an isolated a single. The problem of on the web predators is so commonplace that some governments have developed guides on how youths can be secured. For illustration, a publication of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) in the United States warns of men and women who speedily have conversation in sexually distinct discuss. It also warns of people who "steadily seduce their targets by way of the use of target, passion, kindness, and even items." 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Merely since of a normal curiosity in intercourse, you could possibly find it genuinely hard to reply the way Cody did. Peter, pointed out formerly, admits: "I thought I knowledgeable sufficient self-control to terminate a chat session if the matter turned to sexual intercourse. But time and when once more, I discovered myself hanging on and chatting about sexual matters. I felt poor afterwards on." You may possibly surprise, even even though, 'If I disguise who I am in a chat place, is there truly any hurt in speaking about sexual intercourse on the net?' Are On the net Intercourse Conversations Detrimental? The Bible talks overtly about sexual intercourse. (Proverbs 5:eighteen, 19) Admittedly, people have an elevated curiosity in sex in the training course of youth. So you ought to chat about intercourse. You need to have solutions to your queries on this vital matter make a difference.# Even so, the way you satisfy your curiosity about sexual issues will have a profound effect on your contentment, similarly present and foreseeable long term. If you choose to chat on the web about intercourse, even if it is with folks who say they are your close pals, your expertise could appropriately cease up currently being like that of a younger guy defined in the Bible. Out of curiosity, he wandered near to the residence of a prostitute. At original, she just talked to him. As quickly as his want was aroused, although, examine was not adequate. "All of a surprising he is going before long following her, like a bull that will appear even to the slaughter, . . . just as a fowl hastens into the lure."-Proverbs seven:22, 23. Equally, chatting about intercourse on the net could merely immediate to your heading pursuing higher gratification. "I was chatting on the internet with an personal," remembers a teenager named Philip, "when an immoral picture popped up on my screen screen. The specific I was chatting with skilled sent it to my laptop." When your want to feel about sexually express content has been aroused, you may probably be tempted to go right after your fascination further, such as in an grownup chat room.% A lot of who slide into the entice of viewing pornography go on to commit immorality and endure the inevitable effects.-Galatians six:seven, eight. People who want to speak about intercourse with you on the internet do not have your extremely ideal passions at coronary coronary heart. These strangers want to entice you into immoral chat-and perhaps measures-to gratify their extremely very own desires.^ In an attempt to protect his son from a sexually exploitive male or woman, King Solomon wrote: "Preserve your way far off from with each other with her, and do not get close to to the entrance of her home, that you may probably not give to other folks your dignity, . . . that strangers may possibly not fulfill them selves with your vitality." (Proverbs 5:8-10) The principle driving this ideas may well be used this way: Do not get all around chat rooms just exactly where sexual subject places are described so that you do not give your dignity to strangers who just want to fulfill by on their own at your cost. "Individuals Who Conceal What They Are" You may say, though, that you do not want to go over about intercourse on the internet. Like Peter and Abigail, talked about previously, you may see a chat area as a location just exactly where you can convey your self anonymously, with out fear of disgrace.** Even so, there is one more hazard that you ought to be conscious of. The anonymous character of chat rooms could tempt you into turning out to be deceitful. Abigail statements: "I would start off conversations with males and women and then contemplate on a personality to fit the dialogue." Like Abigail, you might be tempted to suppose a various character to match in with a particular chat room team. You may possibly conform to their anticipations of language or undertake their pursuits in an attempt to make new close friends. Conversely, you could see a chat place as a location to distinct ideas and views that you come to feel your father and mom or buddies would disapprove of. Possibly way, you end up deceiving 1 group or the other. By pretending on-line to be somebody you are not, you are deceiving your chat area contacts. On the other hand, if you do not specific your authentic ideas and ideas to your household and buddies, you are deceiving them. On the web conversations can be dangerous A teenage boy chatting on the web with a woman Although chat rooms are a reasonably newest phenomenon, the inclination for human beings to lie and deceive is as earlier as historic past by alone. The Bible reveals that the authentic liar, Satan the Satan, pioneered the tactic utilized by some chat region web site guests. He disguised his correct identification just before telling his 1st lie. (Genesis three:1-5 Revelation twelve:9, 10) You can continue to be away from currently being duped by liars by adhering to King David's illustration. "I have not sat with guys of untruth," he wrote, "and with these who include what they are I do not look in."-Psalm 26:4. As talked about formerly, some chat rooms may well provide a beneficial objective. Even so, youths who want to you need to Jehovah need to physical exercise too much warning in their use of this modern day dialogue technique. If you want to have to entry 1 distinct, these sorts of as for a faculty process, request your dad and mom or probably an added mature grownup to sit in on your session. A possible create-up will emphasize two additional variables why you should be careful about logging on to chat rooms. It will also analyze how you can offer with particular troubles that might happen even if you are careful about their use.

[huesofthemorning]

Yours Truly, a Friend: Chapter 2

Pairing: NozoEli, NicoEli, eventual NozoNicoEli

Words: 3300

Summary:  Nozomi knows well of friendships lost, but it’s time she learned of friendships gained. A simple letter from thousands of miles away can be the start of everything.

Notes: The next chapter, as requested by several people. I’ll make an attempt to continue and finish this story, but unfortunately I can’t promise anything

Prologue | Chapter 1

Dear Eli,

How’s Japan treating you so far? Two weeks in, and surely you’re a pro already! How is it? Are you finding your way around okay? Has anything exciting happened yet? Are you remembering to take your shoes off when you get inside? That’s important, ya know! As for me, I’m nearing the end of my current project, I’m sad to say. I’ll miss the girls when it’s over. And I guess I’ll have to find a new job, huh? The trials of adulthood never end.

It’s strange, though… I feel like I’m right on the edge of something. The edge of a cliff, perhaps? And it’s a long way down to the bottom, but there’s a bridge I could take… I just have to be brave enough to take that first step. Or maybe I’ve already fallen? Maybe I’ve caught myself on a ledge, unable to move, and there’s a hand reaching out to me from above. Should I take that hand, and risk slipping and falling farther, or should I stay where I am, stuck but safe? Surely the reward for getting out must be far greater than the risk.

What do you think? Have you ever felt this way? Is my imagination getting away from me?

Lots of love,

Nozomi <3

~*~

Eli liked to think of herself as someone who was composed, someone who could adapt flawlessly to any situation with grace. She had cultivated that persona for years, holding her head high and hiding all traces of bewilderment she might feel when the world throws her for a loop. She had mastered the art of it all – or so she had thought.

“I’ve been to Moscow a hundred times,” she muttered under her breath, “I shouldn’t be this lost in a city.”

Eli glared at the gps on her phone, then spun in a circle and glared at the buildings surrounding her. People pushed past her on all sides, chattering away; cars flew down the road; even the wind whistling through the tall buildings was deafening. It near overwhelmed Eli, and the knowledge that this was a quiet time of day terrified her.

Already, Eli was missing her quiet life in her small Russian village. Sure, there was nothing to do there, and she had long grown tired of seeing the same faces day in and day out, but at least she could breathe. Even when she managed to find her way back to her apartment, she wouldn’t be able to block out the noise.

“Oh my god, you’re gorgeous,” a voice said.

Well, Eli wasn’t a quitter – except sometimes, when she was, but that was in the past, and she wasn’t going to be like that anymore – and she was simply going to have to get used to it. She just needed some time, is all.

“Hey, do you have a map?” the voice continued. “Cause I think I’m lost in your eyes.”

“Oh.” Eli finally noticed the young woman standing in front of her. She was short, even for the Japanese, and she wore a bright smile that Eli felt she could trust. What had she said? Everyone spoke so fast here – was it something about being lost? That must be it. “Ah, yes, I’ve gotten a little turned around.  Would you mind giving me directions?”

The woman looked surprised for a moment – had Eli said something wrong? – but she bounced back instantly. “Oh, you’re new here! That’s great! I’m Yazawa Nico, just Nico is fine, and I’ll be your tour guide! I’ll show you alllllllll the wonders of Japan, don’t you worry.”

Nico hooked her arm through Eli’s, who for the first time in years found herself unable to keep up with what was happening, and pulled her down the street.

“So! European, right? You’ve got to be, with those blue eyes. What country? My first guess was France, but you don’t sound French, at least I don’t think so. German maybe? Russian? What other countries are over there… Ukraine? Norway? Chile? Wait, no, that’s one of the Americas, isn’t it? I was never very good with geography. Hey! Have you ever thought about dancing?”

Eli gaped at Nico. What had she gotten herself into? At least Nico’s barrage of questions had been said at a slower pace than before, and once Eli pulled herself together she realized she had managed to understand it all.

“Yes, I’m Russian, but I’m actually more Japanese than Russian, it’s just been a while since I’ve been here…” Fifteen years, to be exact. Eli had planned on coming back sooner, possibly for high school, but life got in the way, and now she barely remembered anything about the country. “And I used to dance, but not anymore.”

“Perfect! I knew it the moment I saw you!” Nico nodded to herself, as if acknowledging what a genius she was. She dragged Eli into a random building, sat her down at a table, disappeared, and returned a few moments later with two steaming cups of something in her hands. Nico moved fast, slipping around people and darting through the crowds, and between watching her and breathing in the smell of coffee that filled the small café, Eli was almost dizzy. She took the cup Nico handed her gratefully.

“I forgot to ask what you like,” Nico said, “so I just got hot chocolate, because who actually likes coffee? I mean, my friend Maki does, but she’s a med student and I think an addiction to coffee is required for graduation, so she doesn’t count. Also, what’s your name?”

“Elizaveta Alexandrovna,” Eli said, sipping her hot chocolate and grimacing as it burned her tongue. Nico gave her a blank stare and Eli sighed. Right. Japan. “Eli in Japanese. Ayase Eli.”

“Cool. What’re you doing in Japan, Eli? Visiting? Moving?”

“Moving. I graduated university a year ago, but I couldn’t find any interesting work back home, so I thought I’d try here. Plus…” Eli hesitated a moment, then continued on. “I have a friend here, we’ve been sending each other letters for years, and it’d be nice to finally meet in person.”

“What, you two were pen pals or something?” Nico scoffed at the idea. “That’s stupid. This is the twenty-first century, we have phones and webcams. Use those and you can find out someone’s abandoned you after a week, instead of waiting 3 months for a letter that will never come.”

“What?”

“Anyway!” The odd darkness that had clouded Nico’s eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and she was back to her sunny and dazzling self an instant later. “When are you going to meet this mystery friend of yours?”

“I don’t know… We haven’t really talked about it yet.”

“Seriously? Come on! How long have you two been friends?”

“About ten years.”

“Ten years! And you’re not racing down the streets to throw yourself in their arms? What kind of friends are you?”

“Well… It’s kinda nerve wracking, isn’t it?” Eli gave a sheepish grin. “I like to think I know her pretty well, but talking in person is a lot different than writing. And what would we do? We’ve never had to… do anything together before.”

“You could see a movie? Go bowling? Go to an arcade? An amusement park? Take a walk through the park? Go to the beach? See touristy stuff? Go-”

“Okay, okay, I get it! There’s lots of things to do!” They laughed together, and Eli felt her nervousness ease, just a little.

They left the café a little while later, Nico leading the way to Eli’s apartment. She pointed out various landmarks that Eli tried her best to commit to memory, and talked nonsense the rest of the time. Eli had tuned her out by the end of it, which she felt bad about, but it was exhausting going from Japanese class once a week to full immersion with native speakers. She needed a nap.

“And ta-da! Home sweet home, right?” Nico gestured to the apartment building, which Eli was slowly beginning to think of as hers.

“Yes, thank you Nico. You were a great help.” Eli made her way to the door with relief, Nico following a few steps behind.

“So, hey, Eli, you want to go out with me?” Nico asked, and Eli paused on the threshold.

Did she? She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have another friend here, especially one in the area. Somehow, she got this feeling that hanging around Nico could lead to more trouble than it was worth, with her impulsive actions… but Eli had had fun, and moving to a new country meant taking risks, didn’t it?

“Alright,” Eli decided. “Message me if you want to meet up, then. My job doesn’t start for another couple weeks, so I should be free whenever.”

Nico grinned, raising her hands up in some weird pose. “You got it!”

~*~

Dear Nozomi,

I ran into the oddest person the other day…

Nico’s words kept spinning around in Eli’s mind. There was no doubt about it: the correct course of action was to ask Nozomi to meet up. She couldn’t imagine Nozomi saying no, and surely they would be able to find something to do. Still, there was that fluttering of her heart that came up whenever she read one of Nozomi’s letters, or whenever she looked at that jar slowly filling up with paper stars, and it made her hesitate.

Eli folded the 484th star, finished the letter, and didn’t write anything at all about getting together.

~*~

Eli’s phone buzzed early in the morning, and she groaned as she opened her eyes to sunlight. Buying curtains was moving up in her priority list. A fan, too, she decided, as she spotted the blanket lying on the floor. She had vague memories of kicking it off during the night, unable to deal with the heat. The phone vibrated again, and Eli fumbled through the clutter piled on her night stand until she found it.

11:03 am, the screen read. Not that early, then, and she couldn’t use jet lag as an excuse anymore. Well, she was technically on vacation, so she was allowed to sleep in. Eli yawned and pushed herself into an upright position.  

“It’s your favorite up and coming idol, Nico-Nii!” the message read, “I compleeeeeeeeeeeetely forgot to ask you something important the other day. Think you can find the coffee shop again and meet me there? You won’t regret it, I promise!”

The gps said the café was a 20 minute walk. Eli gave herself an hour to hunt down the place, and prided herself on getting there in 45 minutes. She bought a chocolate latte and sat down at the same table as before. Nico walked in a short while later, looking almost dressed up in her pink blouse and doodle-print skirt. It was a cute look.

“You actually made it!” Nico said, dropping herself in the chair. “I’m surprised. I thought I’d have to rescue you again.”

“I’m not completely hopeless.”

“Yeah? How long did it take you?”

Eli took a sip of her drink instead of answering and ignored Nico’s smirk. “Anyways, what was that important question you had?”

“Oh yeah! You said you knew how to dance, right?”

“I did, but…”

“What about singing? You have any experience with that?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, that’s fine. Your accent is a bit thick, but your voice is nice, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Wait, problems with what? What are you talking about?”

“My idol group, of course!” Nico said it with such confidence and energy that Eli almost nodded in understanding before she realized that she still had no idea what Nico was talking about.

“Your… idol group? You mean, like a celebrity?”

“Sure. But idols are better, and a whole lot cuter! I’m aiming to be the number one idol in the entire universe! Me and my friend Maki are forming an idol group together. We’re going to debut soon, but we’re looking for one more member first. That’s where you come in!”

“What? Hold on-”

“You said you’re free for a couple weeks, right? That’s plenty of time to catch up on the dance moves, and we’re almost done with the song, and then we can find time to meet outside of work. Of course, once we make it big, we’ll have to practice full time, so don’t get too attached to your job, okay?”

“Wait, wait, I haven’t agreed to anything yet. Why are you picking me for this?”

“Uh, because you’re hot? And you just have that talented look about you, too. I’ve got a sense for this stuff, you know! I can see it now,” Nico said, stars in her eyes, “your face on magazine covers, the headlines crying out about the new foreign star, Ayase Elizabeth-“

“Elizaveta.”

“Same thing?”

“As same as Nico and Nicole.”

“That’s kinda cute, actually.”

Eli sighed heavily. “Nico, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested in joining your idol group.”

“Aw, come on. Why not?”

“Because… because I have enough stuff to do right now, and I’m going to like my new job, and I haven’t danced in over eight years and I’m not planning on starting again.”

“Why not?” Nico asked again, and this time she had a more serious look in her eyes. Still, Eli wasn’t about to open up to someone she had just met, new friend or not.

“It’s complicated,” Eli said, and met Nico’s suspicious look with a firm one.

“Well, fine,” Nico decided after a moment. “But you’ll still come with me to meet Maki, right? I told her I was bringing you over, and she’ll make fun of me if I don’t.”

“I suppose that’s fine, just meeting her…” Even as Eli said it, she had a nagging feeling that she should be saying no. The more distance she put between herself and dance, the better, and this was getting to close for comfort.

“Awesome!” Nico jumped out of her chair, full of energy. “Let’s get going then!”

Eli shook her head helplessly and followed Nico out the door. What had she gotten herself into?

“So, our group,” Nico started, leading the way down the street. She grabbed Eli’s hand as they walked, and Eli almost jumped at the contact. Nico didn’t seem to notice. “Right now, we’re thinking of calling our group BiBi. It doesn’t really mean anything, but it sounds pretty cool, right? We’ve got that one song I mentioned mostly done, and I’m writing lyrics for a second one. Maki’s the musician, except she only plays piano, and who’s ever heard of a classical music idol song? No one, that’s who, so I’ve been helping her play around with some fancy music software. It sounded pretty terrible at first, but I think we’ve finally gotten somewhere! And of course, dancing is easy. Maki could use a little more enthusiasm though. She’s kinda bland sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” Eli said, still distracted by Nico’s hand. Was this what friends in Japan did? Hold hands as they walked down the street? She had so much more to learn than she thought. Normally she’d be bothered by it, but… it was kind of nice, actually. For some reason, it made her think of Nozomi. Is this what Nozomi would do, when they finally met up? Eli still felt a pang of regret for her inaction. Next letter, for sure, she would ask.

Nico didn’t let go of Eli’s hand until they reached their destination. She led the way through the building, past classrooms filled with tired looking students. It was Maki’s university, Nico explained. She had gotten permission from the school to use the auditorium for a couple hours every few days, which was much nicer than Nico’s cramped apartment.

“Sounds like she’s already here,” Nico said, hearing the faint music floating down the hallway. They found her at the base of the stage, completely at home on the grand piano, playing like the rest of the world didn’t exist. They listened quietly, Nico with impatience and Eli with awe at the beauty of it. Maki hit the last few notes with a lingering sadness for the end of the song, and the music faded away. She ran her fingers silently over the key before turning around.

“You’re late,” Maki said, throwing Nico an annoyed look before turning to Eli. “And you’re the new member Nico is dragging into this mess?”

“Yes. I mean, no, I’m not joining your group, I just came because Nico wanted me to meet you, or something…” Eli paused, glancing between Nico’s smirk and Maki’s disinterested look. “I’m Ayase Eli, by the way. Your piano playing is marvelous.”

Maki’s whole expression changed at the compliment, mouth dropping open and eyes widening. She forced her surprise into a frown, but she couldn’t hide her red cheeks. She coughed, turning away and playing with a lock of hair. “Er, thanks. I’m Nishikino Maki.”

Nico laughed. “Oh, man, this is going to be fun. Hey, Maki! Why don’t we show Eli our song? Give her a taste of the idol world!”

“Do we have to? I’d rather do singing warm ups first.”

“That’s boring, I don’t want to. Oh, yeah, speaking of boring things – you find a producer yet?”

“How is that boring? We can’t do anything without a producer. And yes, I think so. My friend says she knows someone.”

“Your giiiiiiiiiiiiirlfriend, you mean?”

Maki turned truly red at that, standing up and stomping her foot. “She’s not my girlfriend, stop saying that!”

Nico practically cackled at that, and even Eli wanted to laugh at the childish display, though she hid her smile behind her hand.

“Anyways!” Nico said, setting up the speakers she pulled out of her bag, “let’s do that song.”

“Fine,” Maki growled, “but just one run through. Then we’re doing warm ups.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.” Nico hopped on stage and gave Eli a bright smile. “Here’s the deal, okay? You said you’re not going to dance again, and that’s fine. I’ll respect that. But you didn’t say that you didn’t want to dance again, so I’m guessing that, maybe, deep down, you actually want to keep going. I could be wrong! But if you truly don’t want to dance again – prove it. If you watch us dance, and you don’t feel any urge to join us, then I won’t bug you about it anymore. But if you do feel that urge, if I see you tapping your foot or singing along – you have to join us. Got it?”

The speech was the last thing Eli expected. She would have to join them? If she showed any enjoyment in their performance, she would have to join them? There was a heat growing in her chest, and as she pushed through her shock, Eli realized she was angry. She’d met Nico three days ago; this was their second interaction; how dare Nico try and control her life?  What gave her the right? Eli had quit ballet because she was a failure, through and through, and that was never going to change. She would never be good at dancing. She would never get better. That’s the way it was, and as much as it hurt, it would hurt even more to pretend there was hope. Did she want to keep dancing? Of course she did. Of course. There was nothing she wanted more in the world, and Nico was treating it like a joke. Like Eli was hiding that desire away because she was scared. Like her soul could be bargained with.

Eli glared at Nico, fists clenched, fury burning in her blue eyes – but Nico didn’t back down. And for some reason, once again, Eli thought of Nozomi:

Maybe I’ve already fallen. Maybe I’ve caught myself on a ledge, unable to move, and there’s a hand reaching out to me from above… Surely the reward must be greater than the risk.

Surely the reward…

Have you ever felt this way?

The anger drained out of Eli.

“Alright,” she said softly, collapsing into a front row chair, “You have yourself a deal.”

[theinvinciblenoob]

Shortly after announcing the Home Hub, a Google exec told me the timing was simply about “getting the product right.” Still, it’s curious launching your own entry in the space more than half a year after a trio of hardware partners debuted their own.

It’s easy enough to give the company the benefit of the doubt when you consider all of the variables in a nascent tech category that’s been around since, well, last summer. Amazon won the first to market prize with the Echo Show. It was a big, clunky thing, constructed from budget hardware — but it demonstrated the possibilities of adding a display to smart speaker.

The Echo Show 2 refined the concept, with a more thoughtful design and improved hardware, while a trio of devices from LG, JBL and Lenovo offered a glimpse at what Google Assistant could bring to the table. The Home Hub, announced a few weeks back (alongside a slew of hardware from the company), attempts to deliver that in the hardware sweet spot.

The smart screen sweet spot is, of course, a wholly subjective thing, depending on personal preferences and individual needs. It seems entirely plausible that next year will bring a Home Hub Max, but for now, Google’s settled on a seven-inch display. That puts the product in between the Echo Spot (2.5) and new Show (10-inch). But in spite of sporting the same screen size as the first-gen Show, Google’s managed to keep things compact.

I’ve seen the “ it’s just a tablet” criticism levied against the category by several angry/bored commenters. Google apparently said “screw it” and leaned in. The company insists that all of the tech was built from scratch here, but at first glance, it’s hard to shake the feeling that you’re looking at an OEM-ed Android tablet mounted on top of a speaker.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it, at first. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting from the Home Hub. I’ve grown to like it, though. From the front, it looks a bit like a tablet floating an inch above the table, mounted at a ~ a 25 to 30 angle. The design implies a future upgrade sporting a swiveling screen with an adjustable viewing angle, but as it stands, It’s small but bright and easily spotted across the room.

The speaker stand is fully covered in in fabric, in keeping with the longstanding aesthetic of the Home line, which has since found its way into the latest generation of Echo devices. Unlike other Home products, the device doesn’t exactly blend in with its surroundings any more than your tablet of smartphone. That said, the wide range of optional screen savers offers a generally more pleasant appearance when not in use, ranging from an AI-curated selection of your Google Photos to fine art to Earth and space shots from NASA. I’m partial to the Earth images myself.

The digital picture frame didn’t die, exactly. It simply disappeared for a bit, only to return as something far more useful.

The bezel is fairly sizable, owning, in part, to the light sensor and far field microphones up top. The display is 1024 x 600, as initially suspected — confirmed, oddly enough, by this tweet. We’re not talking top of the line hardware here, but it’s certainly up to serve as a playback portal for YouTube videos. And honestly, given the size, you’re probably not going to want to watch anything much longer than that.

Hi there, we saw your tweet and wanted to help. Google Home Hub screen has a 1024 x 600 resolution rate.

— Made by Google (@madebygoogle) October 12, 2018

The absence of a camera is a bit of a curiosity in the broader context of the smart screen category. That goes double after Facebook’s recent introduction of Portal, which basically exists for that reason alone. Here’s the Google’s official line on the decision, courtesy of a blog post from VP, Diya Jolly, “We consciously decided to not include a camera on Google Home Hub, so you feel comfortable placing it in the private spaces of your home, like the bedroom.”

It’s a good line, certainly. And given how many of these things are destined to end up bedside, as a sort of smart alarm clock, coupled with general concern over Google’s core business of collecting data, that will likely give potential buyers some peace of mind. Nipping those privacy concerns from the electric taping webcam contingent in the bud was likely a driver here. The lack of webcam also also no doubt helped keep the price down.

Either way, the inability to video chat may well be a dealbreaker for some, given what a core feature it is on Amazon and Facebook products. If there’s enough of a user outcry for the feature, however, I wouldn’t be surprised if the company ultimately reverses course. A camera and no camera SKU seems like a pretty solid way to please everyone.

That said, you can still use the built-in mics to call folks on your contact list or “Broadcast” messages to other Home devices on your network, as a kind of makeshift intercom system.

As for the microphone, there’s a physical switch on the rear of the device, which is easily accessed without having to turn the device around. When flipped, Assistant lets you know, “the mic’s off,” along with an icon that flashes on screen. A small red light also appears next to the light sensor up top. I’ve spoken to hardware designers who’ve debated the best way to acknowledge this, given the fact that, on many cameras, the red light signals recording. Practically all have landed in the same camp as Google here, however.

The other physical button is a volume rocker, located on the left rear of the device. You can also tell the Assistant to turn down the volume for you, but the inclusion of buttons is a nice touch for easy access when the display is nearby.

The speaker is actually the cleverest bit of Google’s design here. Compare it to the new Echo Show, whose speaker surface faces the wrong direction, requiring that the product be positioned around six inches from a wall, in order to get the best sound. Or there’s the Lenovo Smart Display, whose front-facing speaker significantly increases its surface area.

With the Home Hub, a majority of the speaker still faces back, but the raised display affords the ability to blast some of that sound forward. As for sound, it’s about what you’d expect on a product in this class. Like the screen itself, it’s perfectly fine for short videos or casual music listening. I wouldn’t, however, rely on it as my primary home speaker. The Home Max, among others, does a much better job.

There’s no auxiliary out port here, either, which is something I like to see on smaller speakers. That said, Google long ago built in the simple, “Hey Google, connect to bluetooth feature,” which searches for and connects to paired devices. It’s something I use regularly to connect my laptop to the Google Max — and a feature Amazon still hasn’t added at last check.

If you’ve got multiple Google speakers set up, the easiest way to switch between them without missing a beat is through the Home app. Otherwise things can get a bit confused. Pairing them into a single group (such as Living Room), meanwhile, will break the speakers up into stereo channels, offering a fuller version of the music, from either side of the room.

It’s a nice effect, especially when paired with the Hub’s display for a visual dimension. There are still some kinks to work out here, however. For example, when I said, “hey Google, volume down,” only one speaker responded. It would be great if the system assured both sides were operating at the same level.

The Home Hub is, of course, voice first. Given its size and shape, however, it ought come as little surprise that there’s plenty you can still accomplish via touch. At any point, for example, you can swipe up from the bottom of the screen to access brightness, volume and settings. Swipe down from the top and you get access to Broadcast and all of the home devices you’ve connected.

This control panel is one the Home Hub’s killer app. Broken down into different categories like lights and cameras (no action), the interface serves as a one stop shop for monitoring and controlling all manner of different settings on connected devices. Google’s embrace of touch controls are really what make this work, with the product serving as a kind of holy grail for home control, similar to what Apple’s been working on with its own Home app.

The device should connect quickly with all Made By or Works With Google devices. It’s a nice list, though the lack of an actual smart home hub is glaring — it’s right there in the name, in fact. The addition of Zigbee functionality was a pretty central upgrade in the last Echo Show. Google, on the other hand, is more focused on building its own ecosystem of products, as evidenced by the recent addition of GE smart bulbs that connect to Home devices via Bluetooth .

It will be a nice system when enough products have jumped on board. For now, however, the company has limited its device ecosystem a bit. That said, Google’s own device ecosystem is pretty robust at this point, between Nest devices and, of course, the Chromecast, which lets you stream video directly to the hub and control content from HBO NOW, CBS All Access, Starz and Viki via voice.

There are two more killer apps that require mention here. The first, YouTube, was already highlighted above. But Google owning the world’s largest video hosting service is pretty huge. There’s a reason it’s been the centerpiece of an on-going tug of war between Amazon and Google — not the mention the fact that Amazon’s reportedly been working on its response to the service.

The Echo’s browser-based workaround just isn’t the same. These things were built for YouTube.

The other is the depth of Assistant’s knowledge base. Google had a tremendous amount of search, context and machine learning here. And as a whole, its offering just feels smarter than Alexa. There are also nice little touches to to the interface that borrow design language from Gmail, Android and other Google properties. For example, when you open your calendar, you get a slew of dialogue boxes:

Add an Event to My Calendar

What’s My Next Meeting

Show My Agenda for Tomorrow

Set an Alarm

Set a Reminder

Tap one, and you can add listings with your voice. It’s one of the best on-board examples of how the touch and voice functions work in tandem.

The Home Hub, like so many of Google’s hardware devices, is the culmination of years worth of software advantages. Here, they all come together in a nice, compact package, which, at $149 undercuts the competition pretty dramatically.

There are still a number of kinks to work out and some features the company ought to mull over for generation two. But on a whole, it’s a strong first entry for Google in the smart screen space, and one that’s mostly worth the wait.

via TechCrunch

[fmservers]

Google Home Hub review

Shortly after announcing the Home Hub, a Google exec told me the timing was simply about “getting the product right.” Still, it’s curious launching your own entry in the space more than half a year after a trio of hardware partners debuted their own.

It’s easy enough to give the company the benefit of the doubt when you consider all of the variables in a nascent tech category that’s been around since, well, last summer. Amazon won the first to market prize with the Echo Show. It was a big, clunky thing, constructed from budget hardware — but it demonstrated the possibilities of adding a display to smart speaker.

The Echo Show 2 refined the concept, with a more thoughtful design and improved hardware, while a trio of devices from LG, JBL and Lenovo offered a glimpse at what Google Assistant could bring to the table. The Home Hub, announced a few weeks back (alongside a slew of hardware from the company), attempts to deliver that in the hardware sweet spot.

The smart screen sweet spot is, of course, a wholly subjective thing, depending on personal preferences and individual needs. It seems entirely plausible that next year will bring a Home Hub Max, but for now, Google’s settled on a seven-inch display. That puts the product in between the Echo Spot (2.5) and new Show (10-inch). But in spite of sporting the same screen size as the first-gen Show, Google’s managed to keep things compact.

I’ve seen the “ it’s just a tablet” criticism levied against the category by several angry/bored commenters. Google apparently said “screw it” and leaned in. The company insists that all of the tech was built from scratch here, but at first glance, it’s hard to shake the feeling that you’re looking at an OEM-ed Android tablet mounted on top of a speaker.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it, at first. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting from the Home Hub. I’ve grown to like it, though. From the front, it looks a bit like a tablet floating an inch above the table, mounted at a ~ a 25 to 30 angle. The design implies a future upgrade sporting a swiveling screen with an adjustable viewing angle, but as it stands, It’s small but bright and easily spotted across the room.

The speaker stand is fully covered in in fabric, in keeping with the longstanding aesthetic of the Home line, which has since found its way into the latest generation of Echo devices. Unlike other Home products, the device doesn’t exactly blend in with its surroundings any more than your tablet of smartphone. That said, the wide range of optional screen savers offers a generally more pleasant appearance when not in use, ranging from an AI-curated selection of your Google Photos to fine art to Earth and space shots from NASA. I’m partial to the Earth images myself.

The digital picture frame didn’t die, exactly. It simply disappeared for a bit, only to return as something far more useful.

The bezel is fairly sizable, owning, in part, to the light sensor and far field microphones up top. The display is 1024 x 600, as initially suspected — confirmed, oddly enough, by this tweet. We’re not talking top of the line hardware here, but it’s certainly up to serve as a playback portal for YouTube videos. And honestly, given the size, you’re probably not going to want to watch anything much longer than that.

Hi there, we saw your tweet and wanted to help. Google Home Hub screen has a 1024 x 600 resolution rate.

— Made by Google (@madebygoogle) October 12, 2018

The absence of a camera is a bit of a curiosity in the broader context of the smart screen category. That goes double after Facebook’s recent introduction of Portal, which basically exists for that reason alone. Here’s the Google’s official line on the decision, courtesy of a blog post from VP, Diya Jolly, “We consciously decided to not include a camera on Google Home Hub, so you feel comfortable placing it in the private spaces of your home, like the bedroom.”

It’s a good line, certainly. And given home many of these things are destined to end up bedside, as a sort of smart alarm clock, coupled with general concern over Google’s core business of collecting data, that will likely give potential buyers some peace of mind. Nipping those privacy concerns from the electric taping webcam contingent in the bud was likely a driver here. The lack of webcam also also no doubt helped keep the price down.

Either way, the inability to video chat may well be a dealbreaker for some, given what a core feature it is on Amazon and Facebook products. If there’s enough of a user outcry for the feature, however, I wouldn’t be surprised if the company ultimately reverses course. A camera and no camera SKU seems like a pretty solid way to please everyone.

That said, you can still use the built-in mics to call folks on your contact list or “Broadcast” messages to other Home devices on your network, as a kind of makeshift intercom system.

As for the microphone, there’s a physical switch on the rear of the device, which is easily accessed without having to turn the device around. When flipped, Assistant lets you know, “the mic’s off,” along with an icon that flashes on screen. A small red light also appears next to the light sensor up top. I’ve spoken to hardware designers who’ve debated the best way to acknowledge this, given the fact that, on many cameras, the red light signals recording. Practically all have landed in the same camp as Google here, however.

The other physical button is a volume rocker, located on the left rear of the device. You can also tell the Assistant to turn down the volume for you, but the inclusion of buttons is a nice touch for easy access when the display is nearby.

The speaker is actually the cleverest bit of Google’s design here. Compare it to the new Echo Show, whose speaker surface faces the wrong direction, requiring that the product be positioned around six inches from a wall, in order to get the best sound. Or there’s the Lenovo Smart Display, whose front-facing speaker significantly increases its surface area.

With the Home Hub, a majority of the speaker still faces back, but the raised display affords the ability to blast some of that sound forward. As for sound, it’s about what you’d expect on a product in this class. Like the screen itself, it’s perfectly fine for short videos or casual music listening. I wouldn’t, however, rely on it as my primary home speaker. The Home Max, among others, does a much better job.

There’s no auxiliary out port here, either, which is something I like to see on smaller speakers. That said, Google long ago built in the simple, “Hey Google, connect to bluetooth feature,” which searches for and connects to paired devices. It’s something I use regularly to connect my laptop to the Google Max — and a feature Amazon still hasn’t added at last check.

If you’ve got multiple Google speakers set up, the easiest way to switch between them without missing a beat is through the Home app. Otherwise things can get a bit confused. Pairing them into a single group (such as Living Room), meanwhile, will break the speakers up into stereo channels, offering a fuller version of the music, from either side of the room.

It’s a nice effect, especially when paired with the Hub’s display for a visual dimension. There are still some kinks to work out here, however. For example, when I said, “hey Google, volume down,” only one speaker responded. It would be great if the system assured both sides were operating at the same level.

The Home Hub is, of course, voice first. Given its size and shape, however, it ought come as little surprise that there’s plenty you can still accomplish via touch. At any point, for example, you can swipe up from the bottom of the screen to access brightness, volume and settings. Swipe down from the top and you get access to Broadcast and all of the home devices you’ve connected.

This control panel is one the Home Hub’s killer app. Broken down into different categories like lights and cameras (no action), the interface serves as a one stop shop for monitoring and controlling all manner of different settings on connected devices. Google’s embrace of touch controls are really what make this work, with the product serving as a kind of holy grail for home control, similar to what Apple’s been working on with its own Home app.

The device should connect quickly with all Made By or Works With Google devices. It’s a nice list, though the lack of an actual smart home hub is glaring — it’s right there in the name, in fact. The addition of Zigbee functionality was a pretty central upgrade in the last Echo Show. Google, on the other hand, is more focused on building its own ecosystem of products, as evidenced by the recent addition of GE smart bulbs that connect to Home devices via Bluetooth .

It will be a nice system when enough products have jumped on board. For now, however, the company has limited its device ecosystem a bit. That said, Google’s own device ecosystem is pretty robust at this point, between Nest devices and, of course, the Chromecast, which lets you stream video directly to the hub and control content from HBO NOW, CBS All Access, Starz and Viki via voice.

There are two more killer apps that require mention here. The first, YouTube, was already highlighted above. But Google owning the world’s largest video hosting service is pretty huge. There’s a reason it’s been the centerpiece of an on-going tug of war between Amazon and Google — not the mention the fact that Amazon’s reportedly been working on its response to the service.

The Echo’s browser-based workaround just isn’t the same. These things were built for YouTube.

The other is the depth of Assistant’s knowledge base. Google had a tremendous amount of search, context and machine learning here. And as a whole, its offering just feels smarter than Alexa. There are also nice little touches to to the interface that borrow design language from Gmail, Android and other Google properties. For example, when you open your calendar, you get a slew of dialogue boxes:

Add an Event to My Calendar

What’s My Next Meeting

Show My Agenda for Tomorrow

Set an Alarm

Set a Reminder

Tap one, and you can add listings with your voice. It’s one of the best on-board examples of how the touch and voice functions work in tandem.

The Home Hub, like so many of Google’s hardware devices, is the culmination of years worth of software advantages. Here, they all come together in a nice, compact package, which, at $149 undercuts the competition pretty dramatically.

There are still a number of kinks to work out and some features the company ought to mull over for generation two. But on a whole, it’s a strong first entry for Google in the smart screen space, and one that’s mostly worth the wait.

Via Brian Heater https://techcrunch.com

[ksafe12-blog]

My Week 1 Update with VIPKID

So I just finished my first week with VIPKID, and I just wanted to post how much I love this job! 

What is VIPKID?

VIPKID is an opportunity to teach English to students between in the ages of 4-12 in China. All classes are 1-on-1 25-minute sessions, and the material is supplied by VIPKID, so there is very little prep work required! It’s so fun and easy, and at a salary of $16-$22 per hour ($8-$11 per class taught), it’s a nice way to make some extra money! The hours can be an adjustment, though. Since your best bet in making money is to make yourself available during Peak hours in Beijing, that means setting your availability between 6am-9am CST. The hours available are between 8pm CST - 9am CST, but the “hot” times with the most students are in the 6am-9am CST period. So, if you’re a teacher like me, it means setting the alarm a little earlier than usual. But students will book you based on your availability during those hours, and you go from there! 

And, of course, VIPKID is Kobe-approved!

- The Hiring Process - 

As the title indicates, I just finished my first full week with VIPKID, and it’s been nothing but fun for me. But let me back up a little to talk about my experience with the hiring process. The application was very easy. In fact, as soon as I entered my basic info, I received an instant notification that I passed the first test, and to choose an interview time within 3 days. I do not know if this quickness is standard for all applicants, but I am a public school teacher with 9 years experience, and I currently teach full-time for a virtual public school, so maybe my background was related to the easiness of the basic info stage. 

I intentionally delayed my interview - partially because it was the 4th of July weekend and because I wanted to study - but mostly because I wanted to verify with Human Resources in my full time job that I was approved for secondary work. And, with the holiday, it took a bit longer to get full approval. Regardless, I set my interview for the third day from approval. I spent time reading the available materials and watching the many YouTube videos available from VIPKID teachers on the interview process and the teaching experience. This time was very beneficial to my success in my interview. I got so many ideas, and after a quick trip to the dollar store, I had a plan in place. I logged into my first interview an hour early to test the camera and sound system, and I ran through the slides for the fake 10-minute class I was to teach for the interview. Eventually, my interviewer arrived. She asked me simple, obvious questions about my experience, both in public schools and with ESL students. I explained that, although I’m not an ESL teacher, I have had several ESL students in my regular English classes through my 9 years. The questions were quick and easy, and then it came time for the class to teach, for which my interview pretended to be a 5-year-old Chinese kid. Fortunately, I was well-prepared for this from my studying. I did well, but my one slip-up was in asking the “student’s” name. “Candy,” she replied. In my nervousness, I briefly forgot about encouraging students to speak in complete sentences (The expected procedure is to greet the child, but then ask the child to say, “My name is _____.”

As the 10 minutes expired, I just finished teaching the content. Candy then gave me some very helpful feedback that I was able to apply to the next step of the interview process, the Mock Class. Your performance in your first interview also determines what your salary will be if you get hired for VIPKID as a teacher. She asked what I thought my salary should be. I modestly replied that I thought I did well enough for at least $16-$18/hour. She said that I did much better than that, and that she would offer me $20/hour (This is actually broken down into $8 per class, with opportunities for a $1 bonus for showing up to the class, and a $1 bonus for meeting a criterion of a monthly number of finished classes. I believe it is 45 per month, but I’m not completely certain on that part). And that was it! I logged out of the interview, and received notification almost immediately asking me to book my Mock Class within the next 3 days. Again, I delayed as long as I could, as I was still waiting on approval from HR at my primary job. 

Over the next couple days, I read all of the materials VIPKID supplied and watched a few more YouTube videos. I spent a lot of time watching a video about passing Mock Class 2 (VIPKID recently switched the order of the Mock Class content, so Mock Class 2 was actually the content for your first Mock Class). I got a lot of ideas from this video, but let me clearly state that the interviewer in the real Mock Class makes it a point that copying these videos is prohibited, and may result in your not being hired. So be careful about what you study and from whom you borrow!!!

The Mock Class is made up of a 15-minute class that you would teach to a 5-year-old, followed by a 10-minute class that you would teach to a 10-year-old. The Mentor Teacher interviewing you pretends to be both students. The 15-minute class was pretty easy for me, since I had already done a class for that level of “student,” although I did run a little over the 15-minute limit. After 15 minutes, she cut me off (with a few slides to go), and she began giving me feedback. It was all constructive, and she praised my creativity with my Reward System - I have an apple tree cut out, and I stick apples on the tree each time the student accomplishes a checkpoint in my class. She asked if I had any questions about the process or about the 10-minute class that I was about to teach. I confessed that I was less comfortable because I was not certain how to treat the 10-year-old student by comparison to the 5-year-old with regards to the reward system. I admit this is rather ironic, since I teach 11th grade English, and I’m much more accustomed to dealing with older students. She explained that a reward system is still in order, but perhaps something more relevant to the older student (more on this later), but also that I don’t need to spend time in this interview, especially since I only have 10 minutes to cover a lot of content. 

The Mentor Teacher also told me that she felt that, since the Mock Class content is geared toward the different types of questions for ALL levels of students, it might be easier for me to just choose a few of the types of questions to engage. Now, I will say that I studied the material for the Mock Class pretty well, but my mind went blank when she said this to me. What’s worse, she asked me which types of questions I would specifically be focusing on!!! I responded that I was already worried about the 10-minute limit anyway, and if she didn’t mind, I would just go through with the class and try to cover all that I could. So I advise you to prepare about the types of questions available ;)

My 10-minute class began, and I was blowing through the content! I was so sure I would make it all under 10 minutes!!! Until....... the mentor teacher started to be a little difficult... Pretending to be the 10-year-old student, she began to lose focus on my topic, and was really pushing the boundaries of staying engaged. I did what I could to bring her back, but alas, she killed 3 whole minutes of my time on one slide, taking me all the way to the 10-minute mark! My stomach dropped. 

If the mentor teacher decides you could use a little more practice, he or she will assign you a 2nd Mock Class interview to improve with the feedback you are given. Fortunately, she felt that I demonstrated good skills with the rest of the material, and that I would only need that first Mock. I received my contract offer (still stalling because of HR), but then finally signed after receiving HR approval a couple days later. And that was it! I was officially a VIPKID teacher! 

- My First Week - 

I signed my contract on July 6th, and I set my availability, but I didn’t actually get booked until July 8th. I was worried there might be something wrong, but I THINK that the company fills your booking list on Saturday. Either way, my first class was to be at 7am CST on July 8th. I only had 1 class that morning, which was a nice immersion into the program. The night before, I spent about 45 minutes looking over the PPT slides, reading the directions on each slide, writing down notes about things to say, props to use, when I would give apple rewards, etc. If you know me personally, this would not come as a surprise to you. My Instructional Coach at my primary job tells me all the time that I am one of those people who overthinks and overprepares. He’s not wrong! The next morning, I woke up around 5:45am to shower, get dressed, set up the lighting situation in the room, set up the webcam angles, test the sound, and run through the slides a couple of times. 6:50 rolled around, and the student entered the classroom. I kept the camera and sound off, and the next 10 minutes were torture, just waiting for class to begin! It finally started - “Hello!!!!! (goofy wave) My name is teacher Karl! What’s your name????” You have to speak slowly, as most of these kids are still low level in learning their English. “Hello! My name is ____!” And we were off! 

The 25 minutes blew by! I found myself rushing through some of the content towards the end to stay under the 25 minutes, but believe me, once you get a feel for how the content works, it becomes almost natural! What also comes with more experience is not having to spend so much time preparing. With my first 4 classes, I spent 45 minutes each, making notes, etc. After my 3rd day, I don’t even make notes anymore. I glance at each slide, skim the instructions to see if I need any significant props, like a whiteboard for something, and the mark on my phone 5 points in the class that an apple reward is appropriate. And that’s it! My 45-minute prep time has been reduced to 5 minutes per class. So when I say I get paid $X per hour, I mean that I get paid $X for almost no more than 1 hour of actual work! And when you’re less focused on the preparation, you’re more focused on having fun!

One thing they don’t really address in the interview/mock class stage of the process is the reward system (remember I said I would bring it up again earlier). But in addition to the teacher’s personal reward system - mine is the apple tree - there is also a 5-star system that the kids really care about. They are able to collect and spend the stars on items and benefits. When I give an apple, I also give a star. The kids love it, and they work for the stars!

I have taught 11 students so far, and I have had one student cancel on me with less than 24 hours before the class began. And so, with 12 classes taught in 1 week, I made 6 hours worth of salary. Respectfully, without regards to my own salary, if a teacher had the full $22/hour contract, my 6 hours in one week would have earned over $130! Not bad for 30 minutes here and there! There is no minimum number of classes you are required to teach, and there is no maximum either! I have read stories of a couple of teachers who teach 90 classes a week, which calculates to a full-time job! 45 hours/week times 4 weeks at $22 would net that teacher just under $4000/month! But that’s not a goal for me. I view VIPKID as a side job to make some extra change. And it’s been fun! 

I will likely update my experience again, either after 2 weeks of employment or after the first full month. I look forward to answering any questions!  Until then!!!

If you are interested in joining the VIPKID teacher community and you appreciated my sharing, you may use this link as a referral code! https://t.vipkid.com.cn/?refereeId=5930530