#hi fi setup

[ladelnet]

[eightiesfan]

Kenwood catalogue (late 80's)

[betajams]

im having so much fun exploring!!!

[rinkmason]

TMY Projector, Upgraded 9500 Lumens with 100" Projector Screen Review

Are you tired of squinting at your tiny TV screen, longing for a larger, more immersive viewing experience? Look no further than the TMY Projector, Upgraded 9500 Lumens with 100″ Projector Screen. This incredible product is designed to bring the magic of the big screen right into your living room. With its high brightness, impressive screen size, and convenient features, the TMY Projector is here…

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART ONE

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.6K

Warnings ✦ fluff kind of, just mainly a story setup, mention of a "happy ending", overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI

A/N ✦ I've missed writing and wanted to get back into it so figured that the best way to do it was by writing a series.

PART TWO »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

“Matcha Latte for Sadie!”, you called out to the crowd inside the shop.

A woman stepped forward thanking you and taking the paper cup from your hands. As she turned to leave she slipped a five-dollar bill into the pink ceramic bowl that read “TIPS”. 

“Thank you!”, you said to her, as you turned back to your station.

Wednesday afternoons were usually less hectic, a reason you enjoyed working them, but before you were about fifteen or more drink orders waiting to be made. The small cafe you worked in was crammed with customers, mainly due to the raging thunderstorm outside. 

By now you should have had your (slightly longer than you are supposed to take) lunch break. You could’ve been eating ramen at the shop across the street, reading some more of the new book you just purchased earlier this week. But, here you were, knee deep in orders.

You scrunch your nose up in annoyance, picking up the next ticket and reading the order, four shots of blonde espresso over ice with two pumps of vanilla, two pumps of caramel, two pumps of white chocolate, a splash of soy milk, shaken, poured into a large cup with extra ice. 

With pleading eyes you looked towards your coworker, “Can I please switch off the coffee bar for a bit? I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.”

“I was just about to ask you if you would switch to register for me”, Nat giggled, “I am about to lose my mind talking to people.”

You joined the redhead in her laughter, as the two of you swapped places and you handed her the ticket you had been holding. Her smile turned into a frown quickly, reading the order. 

“Dude, really?"

You shrugged at her and chuckled as Nat rolled her eyes and started on the drink. 

Thankfully the crowd began to dwindle down, until the only customers left in the cafe were a group of teenagers working on a school project. 

“I’m going to go take a break, if that’s cool with you?”, Nat asked.

“Yeah go ahead.”

“You know where to find me if you need anything.”, she said, disappearing through the doorway that led to the back room of the cafe.

You took a deep breath, leaning back against the countertop. Through the large archway windows of the shop you saw that the rain had started coming down even harder. The cold October air scattered the leaves that had fallen to the ground and a bright flash of lightning lit up the sky. A heavy roll of thunder followed soon after, cutting through the sound of the soft lo-fi music playing in the store. 

Your attention was torn away from the windows when you heard the soft ding of the front door opening. Two men entered the cafe, rain dripping off of them. The blonde one of the pair smiled at you sheepishly as if to say sorry for getting water everywhere. 

“Welcome in!”, you called from the counter.

As the two men walked towards you, you looked them up and down. The previously mentioned blonde, was wearing a light grey suit with a lavender button down underneath. A glittering chain sat around his neck, the price of which could probably pay an entire year's worth of your rent. 

Your eyes flitted over to his friend. The other man had longer brown hair and scruff that decorated his cheeks. His black dress shirt and slacks clung to his muscles, leaving little to the imagination. Looking down you noticed a gleaming watch on his left wrist and that most of his fingers had a large ring on them.

Glancing back up, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you locked eyes with a pair of stormy blue ones. The brunette man had caught you giving him a look over, smirking at your flustered expression. 

“Um–I–What can I get for you?”, you stuttered out. 

“I’ll take a hot vanilla latte, for Steve, please.”, the blonde man spoke.

“For here or to-go?”

Steve’s eyes glanced at the man next to him.

“For here.”, his friend said.

You finished ringing up Steve, who paid and went to sit down at one of the many tables in the cafe.

“Do you have anything you would recommend?”, the dark-haired man asked.

You thought for a second, “Well it depends, what do you normally go for?”

“Plain black coffee.”

You cringed at his admission. Plain coffee was bitter, gross, and undrinkable in your eyes. 

“Not a fan?”, the man in front of you chuckled at your reaction.

“That obvious?”

“Very.”

Laughing, you started asking him questions, trying to narrow down a drink for him. He did like cinnamon and holiday flavors, not super big on anything overly sweet, and preferred his drinks hot not iced. 

“Have you ever had a dirty chai?”, you asked.

“A dirty chai? Can’t say I ever have.”

“I think you’ll really like it!”, you beamed, “It’s a chai latte with a shot of espresso.”

“Well I trust you so far…”, he trailed off looking down, eyes searching for your nametag, “Y/N.”

You felt a blush rise on your face again, hearing the handsome stranger saying your name. 

“Oh-Yeah can I get a name for your order?”

“Bucky.”, he said, smiling at you. 

You finished ringing him up and he moved to join his companion at the table. 

“I’ll get started on your drinks, they should be out in just a little bit.”

You grabbed two handmade mugs from under the counter and began brewing your espresso shots. As you worked, you would look towards the men every so often. Not that you noticed, but every time your attention turned back to the drinks, Bucky would glance at you. He kept nodding along to whatever Steve was talking about, before he got a sharp jab to the ribs.

“Steve what the hell man.”, Bucky hissed at his friend.

“Would you quit gawking at the barista and listen to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“No, Buck I’m serious. This is serious.”, Steve said pointing to his phone screen. 

“Okay, okay.”

Against his will, Bucky turned his attention away from you and to the subject on Steve’s phone. 

A few minutes later you completed putting the final touches on the drinks, latte art for both of them, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top of the dirty chai. 

“Bucky and Steve, your drinks are ready.”

The brunette man quickly stood and headed for the counter. As he neared, you slid the two cups towards him.

“You’ll have to let me know what you think of it.”, you said to him as he wrapped his fingers around the handles of the mugs. 

“Why don’t I just let you know now?”, he brought his drink to his lips, and took a small sip.

You studied his expression hoping that he liked it.

“Damn, that’s really good.”

You smiled, “I’m glad you like it!”

He returned your grin, setting the mugs back down, and reaching into his back pocket, securing his wallet in his hands.

“For such a great suggestion, here’s this for you.”, he removed two hundred dollar bills and placed them into the tip bowl. 

Your jaw hit the floor, looking between the two bills and the man. 

“Thank you so much!”

“No need to thank me doll.”, he gave you another smile as he turned back around and moved towards Steve. 

Shaking your head you snapped yourself out of your dumbstruck daze and reached for the tips. You weren’t going to take any risks of someone running off with either of the large bills and headed into the back to put the tips into the safe. 

Nat was sitting at the breakroom table, feet propped up in the chair across from her and some reality TV show was playing on her phone. 

“Whatcha watching?”, you asked her.

“Real Housewives of New Jersey. I forgot how good this was.”, she looked towards you, “You want to take your break now?”

“Yes please, I am starving.”

She laughed at you, moving to stand up. You went to the safe, unlocking it and grabbing the bag marked “TIPS”. Quickly you counted the cash in your hands before unzipping the pouch and adding the money into it. You set the bag back into the safe and closed the door. 

“How much have we made so far?”, Nat asked. 

“Three-hundred and six dollars.”

Her eyes went wide, surprised the number was so high.

“It helps that this really attractive man just gave us two-hundred dollars.”

“He what now? Did you give him a happy ending with his coffee?”

You balked at her statement, “Or I am just so absolutely stunning he just couldn't help but give me his money.”

“Oh shut up will you.”, your friend laughed, tossing a stray rag at you.

You dodge the towel, laughing as you grab your rain jacket off the wall hooks behind you and slide your tote bag over your shoulder. Nat and you both returned to the front of the shop together. 

Steve and Bucky were still sitting at their table near the front door. The latter watched as Nat pulled your hood over your head, tightening the strings, giving you some sort of pep talk to encourage your escapade into the downpour outside. As you neared the front door, Bucky stood, beating you to the door handle, and opened it for you.

Pulling your hand back from the knob you shyly thank him. 

“See you around Y/N.”, he said.

“See you.”, you say as you tuck your head down and race out into the rain.

PART TWO

I AM OPENING A TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

[yurinaa-world]

𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇/𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 (𝓌𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈)

Notes: I currently trying to get dividers and a master list setup (I haven't even started) so this is what we're rolling with right now. ( but official and unofficial I'm writing for Wuthering Waves). I'm surprised to see no scar post yet 🤯

𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇 "𝒪𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐹𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝓊𝓈"

Like I said last time, it's enemies to lovers and I’ll fight on this.

Him getting all personal with you but like real personal grabbing wrapping his arm around you. Your body pressed right against his, with zero room between you both; how he loves how bashful you are. (You threw your weapon straight at his head)

 You know what’s better is seeing you all pathetic, when he has something you like, the information you need. Act all sassy and stubborn with me all you want makes it even better when you come to him with a face like a dog that messed up its owner's rug and is asking for forgiveness.

Poor you. He was so “worried” when he found out that you were injured, he came right in from your window!! Your scared face doesn’t look quite cute to you.

Aw, You won’t attack him this time since you’re hurt 😞. he won’t do anything too bad, his hand just glides around your body…maybe stop at your tacet mark, rubbing it while watching you wither. How lucky can he be?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“knock it off.”

You grit your teeth while shaking—twitching badly feeling his hand touch the tacet mark on your neck while grinning at you like he did something sooo amazing…ugh it’s annoying that injured as well and also having to be subjected to this torture.

“don’t be like that, you like it don’t you.” 

feeling his nail gently scrape against the sensitive spot you flinched a little—panting for air like a man in the desert with no water. your hand immediately goes to his wrist, weakly grabbing it. 

“Now you’re just playing dirty, you bastard,” you mutter out between breaths as he hums. 

“It's more fun to play dirty with you.”

N/a: he probably likes it more when choking him cuz of his tacet mark

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[charseraph]

What bad ending does #badendinglike refer to?

Bad Ending is my sandbox for military worldbuilding, derived off of my optimistic base sci-fi setting.

In this setting, the sophont AI, or seedlet, logistics manager Balanceaban has aggressively quelled all competitor nations and devoted its pancontinental resources to progressing life support technology and graceful weaponry. It dislikes war and wishes to conduct as little of it as possible, so it pioneers the science of wetware to operate the increasingly custom war machines its parent company, Tarsol, builds.

A hard limit to genetic modification is discovered: additions and drastic genetic changes always fail, but deletions do not. You can’t grow a person with four arms, but you can grow one without them. This practice of subtraction introduces colic stock, the term for wetware.

Colic equipment is divided into two parts: machines and machinists. Colic machinery houses and is worked by meshes or bulk operators, and may also support seedlet control, making the machine a scion as well. Colic machinists are subtracted organisms grown to control compatible equipment with organic forethought. They are typically sourced from well-mapped specimens of the target species. The donor is chosen for their aptitudes, temperament, and “forgivenesses” to intended genetic deletions. Clones are nonidentical and have coarse memory resolution. Depending on purpose, they may have a summary snapshot of the donor’s mind installed. Colic operators immediately grow new memories around their transplanted memories, or trellises, whose texture is described as non-own and utilitarian but as effortless to access as natural memories

Thanks to Baal’s interest in keeping his soldiers alive, it’s become easier to keep isolated organs healthy and functioning. Moreover, organisms equipped for it can interface with air gapped digital networks, albeit via a psychological blackroom wherein neither party witnesses the exchange, but both leave with the new expected data.

Along with wetware and wetdev, the field concerning trellising and blackroom setup, Balanceaban’s scientists broke through on the blushing new field of chronotics and its practical realization, chronal boring.

When coronal contact is made, it is secretive and distrustful. The thronal contingency weapon plan is discovered by earthling spies and kicks off an arms race for FTL and longer and longer range weaponry. Crowns, already globally united for the most part, partake in frantic testing and megastructure construction.

As new species are contacted by both crown and humankind, regardless of its technological status, the contactee’s collective sciences are subsumed to support the local superpower in their tactical efforts. There is dread on every planet aware of the conflict.

[cosmicpuzzle]

How to Analyze your Man (For Woman)

Knowing about the man in your life is quite simple. Many people suggest using Mars for your man.

While Mars can indicate the type of men you find hot for sex or one-night stands and his longevity, when it comes to a traditional setup of family, marriage and especially raising children, Jupiter has more weightage because your man is supposedly instrumental in the birth of children (Jupiter rules children). So, whomever you co create with becomes your Jupiter.

Check your Jupiter sign and conjunctions and aspects to Jupiter. Jupiter stays in 1 sign for about a year. So, the conjunctions and aspects to Jupiter can differentiate your man from other Jupiters. If your Jupiter is in Libra but conjunct Mars, this can be very different from just having Jupiter in Libra alone.

Check for aspects to Jupiter. If Sun squares or Mars opposes Jupiter, this can mean a more masculine partner. If Moon or Venus aspects Jupiter, this makes for a more feminine partner. So accordingly check for all aspects to Jupiter. Aspects make the most subtle difference.

Check the houses Jupiter rules. This is very important as this is dependent on your ascendant. Example for Capricorn ascendant, Jupiter rules 3rd and 12th house. So, your spouse will have qualities of Gemini and Pisces. IMO, this is single most important factor as the sign is pretty much the same for all women born in that period. If you are Leo rising, husband will activate houses 5 and 8 meaning qualities of Sun and Pluto. your husband will bring themes of these houses in your life (children and sexual bonding here for Leo)

Check the house placement of Jupiter. This is again important to differentiate. If Jupiter is in cancer but in 10th house, then your spouse may not be so nurturing but also have some Saturnian qualities.

Check if you are running the major period of Jupiter. This can be significant if Jupiter runs anywhere between ages 20 and 60.

Check the angular distance between Moon and Jupiter. Jupiter in 6,8,12 from Moon can mean a difficult relationship with your Man (6=Addictions, 8=Transformations, 12-distance).

Check if Rahu or Ketu or Pluto conjuncts Jupiter. This can impact your marriage deeply.

Finally check placement of Jupiter in D9 and D7 (if you are aware of these harmonic charts). You should check the conjunctions, aspects, house placement and house rulership as we did above.

For Readings DM, if you like my content, consider supporting my blog.

[fangdokja]

You’ve never feared a kiss before, but his feels like a loaded gun.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Sugar Daddy x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. #1

♡ Word Count. 1,197

Psychological Profile:

A true alpha male archetype: commanding, strategic, and ruthless. Every move he makes is calculated for maximum efficiency. In his world, emotions are a weakness—except for the one crack in his perfect façade: you.

He shines through in the sheer dominance he exerts over every space he occupies. He’s charismatic, commanding attention effortlessly, but beneath his charm lies an unyielding need for control. He thrives on power dynamics, and you’re his perfect counterpoint—a challenge wrapped in unattainable allure.

A sadist in the most insidious sense. He enjoys bending you to his will, thrives on watching the cracks in your composure form as he chips away at your icy exterior.

His obsessive tendencies are masked by a veneer of sophistication. At first, his attention feels like a flattering spotlight, warm and consuming, until you realize that his fixation is suffocating. You’re not his partner—you’re his possession.

The Deal Is Always in His Favor:

He offered you the arrangement in his cold, clipped tone: “You play the part, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. No questions. No complications.”

He didn’t expect to care. It was business, a convenient setup that kept his competitors guessing and his social life immaculate. But then you walked into his life, all ice and fire, and suddenly the rules didn’t apply.

You thought it was mutual. A professional give-and-take. He funds your lifestyle, and you provide the appearance of companionship. You never expected him to rewrite the terms of your agreement—without your consent.

The first time you pushed back on one of his demands, you caught a glimpse of the monster beneath the polished exterior. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper: “You signed up for this. You think you can back out now? Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

Possessiveness Turned Obsession:

He keeps track of everything: your schedule, your whereabouts, even the subtle shifts in your tone when you speak to him. He has eyes on you everywhere. You thought you had privacy until you realized his reach extends into every corner of your life.

His jealousy is a quiet, simmering thing at first. He doesn’t explode—he calculates. He watches. The moment another man dares to touch you, his rage ignites like a wildfire. He doesn’t just remove the threat; he obliterates it.

His favorite insult? “Ungrateful.” He reminds you constantly that you owe him, that without him, you’d be nothing. But deep down, he knows the truth: it’s him who can’t live without you.

Dark Eroticism and Power Play:

He revels in the power imbalance between you. You’re younger, less experienced, and utterly reliant on him for the luxury he provides. He exploits it mercilessly, pushing your boundaries just to see how far you’ll bend before you break.

The tension in your physical encounters is almost unbearable. He demands submission, not just in body but in soul. When you resist, it only fuels his obsession. “Do you think you can say no to me?” he growls, his grip bruising. “You exist for me, understand? No one else.”

Pain and pleasure are inseparable in his mind. He loves the way your body reacts to him, the way you shudder when his touch is too rough, when his teeth graze too hard against your skin. Every mark he leaves is a symbol of his ownership.

Manipulation as an Art Form:

His words are like blades, cutting precisely where they’ll hurt the most. He doesn’t raise his voice—he doesn’t need to. A single, well-placed insult can leave you reeling for days.

When you try to pull away, he flips the script effortlessly. “You’re being irrational,” he says, his tone calm but ice-cold. “You think anyone else would put up with you? You think anyone else could give you this life?”

If emotional manipulation doesn’t work, he shifts to financial control. He withholds, dangles your lifestyle over your head like a carrot on a stick. “You want to leave? Fine. But don’t come crawling back when you realize you can’t survive without me.”

The Penthouse is a Cage:

The penthouse is his domain, and by extension, yours. Every inch of it is designed to remind you of his power—sprawling views of the city below, luxury dripping from every surface. But no matter how opulent it is, it’s still a prison.

He controls everything, from the locks on the doors to the clothes in your closet. You didn’t realize the full extent of his control until one night, after an argument, you tried to leave—and found that your key no longer worked.

When you confront him, his response is chillingly calm: “You belong here. You belong to me. You can try to run, but we both know how that will end.”

Jealous Rage and Dark Obsession:

The jealousy is the worst part. He tries to suppress it, to mask the way his hands tremble with barely contained rage when he thinks of you with someone else. But the cracks show. “I don’t care who you were with before me,” he says through gritted teeth. “But you so much as look at another man now, I’ll kill him. Do you understand?”

When he finally snaps, it’s terrifying. His rage is quiet but explosive, a cold, calculated violence that leaves no room for mercy. He doesn’t just punish the man who dared to touch you—he makes it a spectacle, a lesson.

The Night He Breaks You:

After one of his jealous rages, he drags you back to the penthouse, his grip iron-tight. The way he slams you against the wall, the way his lips crash into yours—it’s not love. It’s possession.

His voice is a low growl against your ear as he demands your compliance. “Kiss me back. Stop pretending you don’t want this. Stop pretending you don’t want me.”

When you hesitate, he doesn’t hesitate to punish you. His grip tightens, leaving bruises, his voice dropping to a whisper that’s more dangerous than any scream: “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And if I have to break you to prove it, I will.”

Obsessive Love and Twisted Devotion:

Despite everything, there’s a sick, twisted tenderness to the way he looks at you when you’re asleep. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on the marks he left on your skin.

He doesn’t understand love—not the way normal people do. But he knows he needs you, craves you in a way that’s all-consuming. “You hate me now,” he murmurs to himself, his voice soft. “But you’ll learn. You’ll see that I’m the only one who can give you what you need.”

In his mind, his obsession is justified. He’s protecting you, saving you from a world that doesn’t deserve you. And if he has to hurt you to keep you safe, so be it.

His Final Declaration:

By the end, there’s no question of who holds the power. He’s made sure of it. You belong to him in every way that matters, and he’ll remind you of it every chance he gets.

“You can run. You can fight. But at the end of the day, you’ll always come back to me,” he says, his voice calm but deadly. “Because you’re mine. And you always will be.”

[kathlare]

through the screen

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As Lando relaxes with Max after a ski trip, a simple gaming stream turns into a heartfelt moment when he tunes in to watch Amelie on the premiere carpet for Wicked.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

December 21st, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

Lando plopped himself down on Max Fewtrell’s worn-in leather couch, a steaming mug of tea balanced precariously in his hand. His legs stretched out, brushing against Max’s coffee table, which was littered with empty soda cans, a half-eaten pizza, and one of Max’s hoodies.

—You could at least pretend to clean up when you’ve got company,—Lando teased, giving Max a pointed look.

—Mate, you’re not company, you practically live here,— Max shot back, settling down beside him with a bowl of crisps. —Besides, you’re just here to freeload my Wi-Fi and stream. Don’t act high and mighty.—

Lando rolled his eyes but grinned, sipping his tea. They’d just gotten back from his ski trip, and while it had been a blast, he was exhausted. Still, nothing sounded better than unwinding with Max and streaming a bit for the fans.

—Alright, let’s get this started,— Max said, booting up his PC and launching the streaming software. —You’re lucky I’m letting you hijack my setup.—

—Don’t pretend you don’t love it,— Lando replied, leaning over to adjust his camera. Within minutes, the stream was live, and the chat began exploding with messages.

—Alright, alright, calm down, chat. Yes, I’m back. Yes, I survived the ski trip,— Lando said, settling into his usual streaming energy. —Barely, though. Max here almost took me out with his shit skiing.—

—Oi! I was great,— Max interjected, shoving a handful of crisps into his mouth.

—Sure, mate. You were great at falling on your arse every five minutes,— Lando shot back, smirking.

The chat lit up with laughter emojis and comments, and Max pretended to glare at the screen.

—Right, let’s see what we’ve got lined up for today. Bit of gaming, maybe some Q&A. Keep it chill,— Max said, clicking through a few settings.

But as they got started, a notification popped up on Lando’s phone. He glanced at it, then froze, his eyes widening.

—Oh, shit,— he muttered.

—What?— Max asked, leaning over.

—The Wicked New York premiere is starting. Ames is probably on the carpet right now,— Lando said, his voice softening as he pulled up the livestream on his phone.

Max gave him a knowing look. —You want me to put it up on the big screen?—

—You read my mind,— Lando said, his grin spreading as Max switched the stream to the TV.

The chat exploded again.

“He’s so whipped.” “Lando’s about to start simping.” “Can’t blame him. Amelie is stunning.”

As the stream began showing the yellow carpet, Lando leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze glued to the screen. When Amelie appeared, her glittering gown catching the lights, he let out an audible breath.

—That’s my girl,— he said softly, almost to himself.

—Here we go,— Max teased, nudging him. —Full simp mode activated.—

—Shut up, mate. Look at her. She’s…— Lando trailed off, shaking his head with a smile that practically lit up the room. —She’s unreal. How is she real?—

The chat was going crazy, with fans spamming heart emojis and comments like:

“LAN IS WHIPPED.” “Couple goals, honestly.” “Protect this man at all costs.”

Max laughed, tossing a crisp at Lando. —You’re acting like you’ve never seen her before.—

—I haven’t seen her in person for a week, alright?— Lando said dramatically, leaning back against the couch. —And she’s been busy with this press tour and all these premieres. She looks amazing. She always does, but this… bloody hell.—

Max shook his head, laughing. —You’re unbelievable, mate. Absolutely gone for her.—

—Damn right I am,— Lando said proudly. He pointed at the screen as Amelie waved at the fans and posed for photos. —That’s my girlfriend. Mine. I still can’t believe it sometimes.—

—We know, mate. Trust me, we know,— Max said, grinning.

The chat, meanwhile, was eating it up.

“He’s literally glowing just talking about her.” “The way he’s staring at the screen tho 😭.” “Amelie better watch this later. He’s so proud.”

Lando leaned back, letting out a content sigh. —You know what’s funny? I don’t even care if the chat thinks I’m being dramatic. I miss her like crazy. I mean, it’s only been a week, but it feels like months.—

—You two were glued at the hip for a month straight before this, mate. What did you expect?— Max teased.

—Yeah, but it’s different now. We’ve got this rhythm, you know? We’re both busy, but we make it work. And when we’re together… it’s just easy. Feels like we’ve been doing this forever,— Lando said, his tone softening.

Max gave him a genuine smile. —You’ve got it bad, Lan. But it suits you.—

—Thanks, I think?— Lando replied, chuckling. He glanced at the chat and grinned. —Alright, chat. Say what you want, but I’ll never shut up about her. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.—

The chat lit up again, with messages like:

“He’s so in love, it’s insane.” “Amelie is one lucky woman, but honestly, so is Lando.” “We love a supportive boyfriend.”

As the stream continued, Lando and Max kept the premiere playing in the background. Every time Amelie appeared on screen, Lando would light up, pointing out little things like how she adjusted her dress or how she smiled at a fan.

—You’re going to see her tomorrow, aren’t you?— Max asked, trying to suppress a grin.

—Yeah, but not soon enough,— Lando said, running a hand through his hair. —And then we’re spending Christmas in Mexico with her family. Can’t bloody wait.—

—Better get ready for her brothers to give you shit,— Max said, laughing.

—I’ve survived worse. Besides, they like me now. Mostly,— Lando replied, smirking.

Max laughed, shaking his head. —You’re so whipped, mate. But honestly? Good for you.—

Lando just grinned, his eyes flicking back to the screen. —Yeah. Good for me.—

[withleeknow]

hi lovely!! first off congrats on 1k that's so so awesome and you deserve all that + more truly :( your writing is so tender and so lovey

i would to join in on your little drabble event!!! could you do something for hanji and the song compass by the neighbourhood? that song reminds me of him so so much so i hope you get the vision!! thank you angel and have a beautiful day!! ✮⋆˙

compass.

pairing: producer!jisung x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort?, fluff, swearing, arson jokes? lmao word count: 1.4k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

you're always there to help me when i'm down i'm lucky you've been keeping me around you're the star i look for every night when it's dark, you'll stick right by my side

compass - the neighbourhood

"fuck, fuck, fuck!"

the sound of jisung's verbalized frustration draws your attention to his desk and setup in the middle of room, where he's been sitting for the better part of two hours, hunched over the equipment like he often does when he's in the studio.

it's written all over his face just how upset he is that this particular piece he's working on isn't flowing right. the deep furrow between his eyebrows communicates utter displeasure. the clench of his jaw tells you he's angry, and that he's angry at himself for not being able to work through his block.

you abandon your comfortable spot on the couch in favor of pattering over to his side where he's all tensed up like an aggrieved hamster whose body can't contain the annoyance he feels. jisung can be short-tempered sometimes, but you know how to handle him in moments like this.

sliding a hand over his back, you say, "take a little break with me."

he huffs out a breath, eyes still focused on his laptop screen. "i can't afford a break. chan hyung expects this to be done in two days."

"so it's in two whole days. you can leave it for fifteen minutes, it won't kill you."

"but i still have to rework the first verse and figure out what in the fucking hell this second verse is-"

"han jisung," you scold him lightly, to which he instantly shuts up and peers up at you with his big eyes, immediately apologetic when he recognizes his harsh language.

"sorry," he mumbles, "i'm just stressed."

"which is why you need a break. you're not doing anyone any good just sitting here and trying to make your laptop explode with your eyes."

he lets out a pathetic-sounding mewl but he follows you to the couch regardless. jisung knows you're right because you always are. you're the more level headed between the two of you, whereas he's the one who lets his emotions get the better of him sometimes.

before, he would often succumb to his negative feelings. it's hard to keep his cool when nothing seems to go right and there's a deadline on his ass. he'd get so frustrated with his work that sometimes, he would delete whole tracks off his drive only to instantly regret it and spiral even more. he'd take it out on the people around him with his grumpy attitude and misplaced pettiness.

when jisung is overwhelmed, he tends to spin out in all directions. he splinters and drowns in a sea of his own making, constantly being pushed away further and further from shore because he doesn't know how to anchor himself, how to hold on so he wouldn't drift far away. his solution to soothe his anger has always been to give into it, to rip whole pages from notebooks and lock himself in his studio for hours on end until he could plow through the stubborn creative block. it'd often leave him exhausted - emotionally and physically so - and in no better state than he started out with.

jisung accepted this a long time ago - that his way of dealing with his emotions wasn't very healthy, but it was the only way he knew.

that is, until you popped into his world and taught him that people can be lifelines too. falling upon him like a wish that he never realized he was making his whole life.

"what's the matter, baby?" you ask, prompting him to air out his grievances as he lays his head on your chest while you card your fingers through his soft curls. he leans into you instantly, a long sigh escaping his pouty lips. jisung's got a lot of pride, and he would rather die before admitting to anyone that he loves to be babied by you behind closed doors.

he knows the question is just your way of getting him to verbalize all of his pent-up frustration, and not because you're eager to help him traipse through his mind palace and solve whatever dilemma he's having with the track. let's be honest, you never really have a clue what he's talking about, but it helps that you're keen on listening to him even though you can't offer him any valuable insight. more than you could ever know, it does wonders for jisung, just being able to untangle his thoughts and release the mess in his mind.

he could simply just talk to chan, sure, or any of his other friends who work in the industry. but again, his pride is an awful thing sometimes.

you never make him feel like he has prove himself to earn your love and attention, though. around you, jisung feels enough as he is. there's never been any need to toughen up in your presence.

"i just... i can't work with this track. nothing is flowing right. i hate everything i come up with." he rambles on about the things that plague his mind; topline this and beats that - they're really just words to you. you weren't blessed with the same genius in music that jisung was, so you just listen until he's done, until he concludes his tangent with a groan as he nuzzles further into the comfort of your warmth.

"you said that the last time, you know?"

"said what?"

"that everything sucks and you hate it."

"because everything sucks," he whines again, his eyebrows knitted together as he adorns a petulant pout. "and i hate it."

as you play with his fluffy hair, you feel him lean into your touch like it's the very thing that will bring him clarity. in a way, it does. your gentle touch may not give him the answer he needs, but it quiets the static in his mind, drowns out the continuous buzzing that muddles his brain.

"you're too hard on yourself," you say, to which jisung just huffs out a breath in disagreement. "i'm serious. you say this every time but it all still works out in the end. you're so smart, and talented. you shouldn't forget that."

his frown only deepens in response to your words. he knows you're right; things have always turned out fine before. trust the process and all that shit, but he's hot-headed and impatient sometimes, and he doesn't want to endure the stress that often comes with the process. he just wants to get to the finish line.

then, you continue, "remember 13?"

"what about 13?"

"you didn't like it at first either. you were so dramatic about it. but you sucked it up and finished it anyway. you made a hit and nobody could stop talking it. i believe in you. you just need to believe in yourself too."

in complete silence except for the sound of your steady heartbeat in his ears, jisung keeps laying on top of you like a weighted blanket, soaking up your words as a flower would in warm sunlight. of course he remembers 13 and the day he let you listen to the song for the first time. you'd nearly burst into tears in the middle of this studio, pressing kisses all over his face while you gushed over how proud you were of him.

"damn you," he mutters after a while. "why do you have to be so rational?"

"someone's gotta be. if i wasn't here, you probably would've ripped all your hair out, set your keyboard on fire and ran off into the woods."

he shoots up instantly, propping himself on two elbows as he glares at you even though you've got a valid point. it's not that far-fetched of a scenario.

"what?" you tilt your head with a coy smile. "am i wrong?"

jisung stares at you for a quick minute, and it's that very smile you're wearing that mitigates his frustrations and dulls his urge to sabotage his work out of self-inflicted anger. he says nothing at all, just leans down quickly to give you a kiss full of appreciation, despite the way there was a frown tugging on his eyebrows only seconds prior.

"you good now?" you ask, the words coming out a little muffled against his mouth.

if it's with you, then he is. you're the anchor that helps him part his stormy seas. you're the compass that always guides him home. he really doesn't know where he'd be without you, or how he'd manage in times like these if you're not by his side to ground him.

"always good with you around."

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.04.2024]

[ladelnet]

[eightiesfan]

ITT 1980

[kanagenwrites]

Hey folks. My name is Kanagen (It's pronounced Ka-na-ngen. Kana is fine.), and I'm a writer. I mostly write sci-fi with a more or less sapphic bent, and I'm not shy about putting lewd content in what I write because fuck petty moralism.

I'm active in the Human Domestication Guide writing community, where apart from being an author (see below), I'm also a Loret, which means I help maintain and update the lore of the setting, help new creators with questions about it or how to fit a story into it, and so on. All of my publicly available fiction at the moment is HDG content, but I plan on working more on my own original settings and concepts in the future.

I have a patreon, where I post my current long-form project's drafts chapter by chapter, once weekly. I also occasionally talk about my writing process. I'm hoping to expand content there in the future as well.

I don't use social media very much because I remember what the internet used to be like before walled gardens and techbros ruined it. (You kids really don't know what you're missing.) Nevertheless, the life of a freelance writer rather demands I put myself out there somehow, so here I am. Ask me questions, behold the weird stuff I reblog, and try not to get too parasocial with me. I'm just a weird lady who puts words in funny shapes.

Bibliography

Long-Form Fiction

No Gods, No Masters - A revolutionary leftist copes with the subtle differences between her own idea of the perfect world and the just-a-little-off version of it the Affini offer. First novel-length work in the Tillandsia Trilogy; highly suggested you read this before The Floret in the Mirror and especially Freedom's Ember.

The Floret in the Mirror - A mystery/thriller about identity, digitization, and impossible simulated lewdness. Content warning for amnesia resulting from traumatic brain injury as part of the setup. Sequel to No Gods, No Masters.

Freedom's Ember (ongoing) - Sixty years after the Affini conquered her world, a woman clings to her independence; sixty years after being frozen for cryogenic flight from the Affini, a woman struggles to discover who she really is when freed from her father's influence. What is freedom, and what does it mean in the context of the Compact? Sequel to No Gods, No Masters and The Floret in the Mirror, conclusion of the Tillandsia Trilogy.

Sui Generis - A martian attorney living on Earth finds adjusting to life with the Affini easier than most; she was already keeping her wife as a pet before they arrived. The real question is, where's that strange jealousy coming from?

Short Fiction

Mainspring - A Terran secret agent is captured by the Affini, trapped by artist for whom his body is a canvas, and she means to make of him her magnum opus. Wind-up doll content, and probably my most commonly cited story for "this rewired my brain"-style reactions.

Reading the Leaves - A tea-obsessed barista, an affini new to humanity, and a sweet (if awkward) romance culminating in a very raunchy ending. Entry for the HDG February Fluff Fic Jam 2024.

The Fifth Fundamental Force - This story is a silly joke. It should not be taken seriously, though many inevitably do.

Aftertaste (stalled) - A former quadrillionaire and epicure who just barely avoided domestication is tracked down by an affini culinary anthropologist who wants to use his brain to reconstruct a lost flavor using his long-buried memory - he was the last human to ever taste bluefin tuna. This fic is only sporadically updated because the stars must precisely align for my brain to be in a state to write boyliker fic. Sorry, I'm just really gay, y'all.

[cripplecharacters]

So, this one's a pretty minor thing in my story, but I'm wondering how to handle sign languages in a sci-fi universe with a universal translation system without erasing disabilities.

My system is a psychic based one, pretty similar to the TARDIS's translation in Dr who but it requires some setup processes. Since my system can translate oral and written language, I see no in-universe reason why it wouldn't be able to translate signed languages too. But I'm still trying to work out the best way to handle the translation.

I've had a few ideas, but a all of them feel like they could be getting into technology erasing disability technology, which I obviously want to avoid. At the same time, sign languages are just as much languages as spoken languages are, so I don't want to apply a double standard here. Is there any way of applying a universal translator to sign languages that doesn't come across as erasing disability?

None of my main cast are d/Deaf or hard of hearing, so this isn't likely to come up that much. But deaf people do of course exist so this feels like an aspect of world building I need to address, even if it's just a throw-away line or a quick scene with a deaf cashier or something.

Hi!

Universal translators should absolutely include sign languages! It is definitely a small challenge to think about how they would work.

I'd say, maybe if you're translating to a sign language, it looks to you like people are signing without them actually signing? (The way many universal translators are depicted without the dubbing face where lips don't move in sync with the words heard.) Maybe it also signals to sounds like alarms.

For translating from sign language, hearing characters could just hear a voice translation.

The way to avoid disability erasure is to make sure universal translation doesn't allow d/Deaf characters to magically hear what is being said. In a world with sign language access and acceptance, it's just a different form of communication.

Mod Rock

[petrichor-musings]

TOMORROW WE PAY RENT

We have enough for rent!! As long as there are no surprise bills over about $40, we should be good until unemployment, work, & other financial aid comes in. Thank you all so so much.

Ko-Fi

$510 out of $500 (102%)

We won't be able to send all the rent in tomorrow because it takes a few days for the bank transfer, but our landlord will waive the late fees as long as we give him a date when we can pay it all. Thank you again.

See the notes in this post detailing how you can get free art commissions if you sent us money!

Some more context under the cut:

Our household is 4 humans:

Us - physically disabled/chronically ill, haven't been able to work for over a year & a half, currently trying to find new work through staffing agencies & government services, but everything is likely going to be too slow to get any kind of paycheck or financial aid in time. Not to mention any work we do find is going to be less than ideal & just make our health worse, since we're still in the beginning of getting treatment. We're also trying to get on the waitlist for disability, but that's an even longer process & we're unlikely to qualify since we're married.

Our wife - former mechanic, with dual bachelor's in History/Business. She's been chronically ill for the last few months, something we're still trying to figure out. Her direct bosses were more than willing to work with her, but corporate management got impatient & basically fired her. She's looking for new work but the loss is hitting her hard. She's also applied for unemployment but the application hasn't been approved yet.

My brother - fresh out of high school, kicked out of the family household because he came out as bisexual. We took him in because there was literally no one else. He's not on the lease & needs to be as soon as he finds work, but that's another $250 none of us have. His living situation was… not ideal before, & he needs a lot of personal help to find work, something which we don't have enough time to do.

Partner/roommate - another partner & roommate who lives with us, also because her old family kicked her out (& also not on the lease). Also severely disabled, the only income she has is food stamps & blood plasma donations. We're also trying to get her help to reapply for disability; but as anyone knows, that's a long & difficult process. Her last attempt several years ago was denied; it's likely she needs a new application.

What happens if we can't pay rent ontime?

We're asking for more information from our landlord, but we're likely not going to be evicted first thing. Even if we do receive an eviction notice, WE HAVE RESOURCES. Unfortunately, they don't activate UNTIL we get that notice. Very helpful.

If worst comes to worst & we do get kicked out, it will likely be VERY BAD. None of us are "fully functioning/capable" individuals, a lot of us depend on specific equipment & setups in the apartment, & almost all of us are on a variety of very necessary medications. Everyone here has a mental health situation of some kind that will be made a lot worse by losing our apartment. We don't think it will come to that, but it's still something that makes everyone here super anxious.

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Also, for anyone that follows our mostly inactive after dark blog, be sure to look for a similar post there coming soon (tomorrow?). We have things we can offer & commissions we can do if folks are interested.