#hi fi setup

[ladelnet]

[eightiesfan]

Kenwood catalogue (late 80's)

[lizardsarecute]

some Korsica studies that I ended up coloring ^u^

[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…

[archieimagines]

antidote | chishiya shuntaro

Summary: A doctor is a lifeline. In the Jack of Hearts game, Chishiya strives to be yours.

yeah, i took the physician reveal and ran with it. i tried to get into his head to portray him as well as i could in writing this and accidentally fell head over heels. let me know if i did him justice? warnings: large helpings of anxiety, chishiya-esque emotional manipulation, though affectionate. mentions of sex, fwb setup, my attempt at sounding medically educated. word count: 2741 requested by: anon (thank you so much for this brilliant idea, i loved getting stuck into it. i don’t write smut, but i hope this still gets you a little riled.) written by: archie support me on ko-fi

It’s human nature to fuck up. He should’ve known to expect it from you.

It was beginning to wear him down, your constant knee bouncing and nail biting since the third hour of this game. All he needed to do was watch. He was wildly curious to see how this would all play out, and he knew he was safe. Knew you were safe.

All things considered, it was a low-risk game: only trust was required, and he’d scored that easily by taking you under his wing. However, The idea of the Jack of Hearts was a poison injected into the bloodstream of the prison’s population. The symptoms of distrust and paranoia would migrate through the ranks, and the masses would spiral and die.

It was a simple game. The key was to not let your protector get infected.

But the symptoms were visibly taking a hold of you. The cafeteria table shook with your anxious tics, the water in your bottle sloshing enough to disrupt his attention on the surrounding cafeteria. He wouldn’t complain though. You weren’t annoying, no, but you could soon put him on edge if he let you spiral like this, and then he’d be infected too.

“Chishiya,” you called softly, clearly nervous to disrupt his spectating.

He didn’t tear his eyes from the scheming girl in the dress. She was particularly interesting in this setting; and by his deductions, not likely to be the Jack. “Hm?”

Your voice came meeker than normal. “What’s my suit again?”

He turned slowly, a brow quirked over a relaxed eye as he finally gave you his attention. “You forgot?”

���No. Just tell me.”

He sighed silently through his nose, calculating your thoughts. To ask this after he’d told you twice already, you must’ve been anxious about one of two things. One, that your addled mind would fool you into speaking the wrong suit. Or two, that you couldn’t trust him.

“Heart,” was all he said.

And you nodded. Your eyes hardened, clearly visualising the shape before your eyes. ‘Heart,’ he could practically see your mind reciting. ‘Heart.’

Or… Was that a calculating look? He flexed his jaw. Were you possibly tallying up the likelihood that he’d lied to you?

He focused on the accidental downturn of his lips. He shouldn’t be double reading you like that - his own intuition was the only concrete thing he had. He’d never been wrong before. He’d kept the both of you alive for this long based on his skill alone, and he’d not let your lives slip away in a measly Jack’s game.

With a slow blink, he made the conscious choice not to chip away at his own trust in himself, as was undeniably the Jack’s aim in this game.

Chishiya’s gaze lowered to where your fingertips danced on the tabletop. A heart shape. Over and over. Frantic, disturbed. You were slipping.

Against his better judgement, he reached out a hand to clasp over your fingers, quietly amused when those sweet, round eyes fixed on his face. You were so scared, so anxious, and the part inside of him that felt for you lit a soft smile on his lips.

You’d never been good at heart games with that anxious disposition, but that was why he’d kept you by his side. You were an easy window into the minds of his surroundings with how easily he could read you. Your distress on the outside showed blatantly the fear of the people in this game. Everyone under the roof would be feeling it. Even the Jack… Especially the Jack.

Chishiya had found you early on in the games-- only the two of you had survived the Six of Hearts. You were entirely integral to his methods of survival that day, so he stole you away to the Beach and was sure to never let you have a game without him. Losing you as the key to his readings would surely damn him someday. Yet somewhere along the line, he grew… fond.

It must’ve been your consistent proximity, he’d reasoned at first. How your constant being around became a sense of ‘normal’ for both he and Kuina, how your raw, unapologetic humanity was a refreshing shift in his life, how you were a brilliant vessel in the games.

He’d protect you, and you’d provide him the opposite perspective as the control in his readings where everyone else was the variable. The perfect symbiotic relationship in this land.

And perhaps that may have been the case. Perhaps that was the foundation for which he felt appreciative of you, the foundation for a so-called friendship. But it didn’t explain how you’d developed into more for him.

His hold on your fingers tightened, gaze fixed on them as he recalled how they’d thread through his hair, night after night. How they’d unzip his hoodie at the Beach. How they’d scramble to tug the sheets over your naked body when a militant barged through the unlockable door to call him into an executive meeting. He couldn’t help the huff of amusement at the thought. Your eyes were as sweet and panicked then as they were now.

But it wasn’t the same. There, you had the safety of the blankets in his room. A sanctuary. Here, you must’ve felt so exposed to the Jack’s poison. Knee bouncing beneath the table and water bottle gripped tight in one hand, what he could swear was a thin sheen of sweat over your skin. You were really losing your nerve, and he needed to be your antidote.

“Follow me,” he murmured, his interest in the room’s population dissipated. With a gentle nod in a moment of reassurance, he let go of your fingers to let you take up your bottle of water and led you from the cafeteria.

His hands burrowed into his pockets as he walked. He took his slow time, sure to register his surroundings in his peripherals even as he gazed straight ahead, effortless as ever.

Your distinct footsteps followed close behind, audibly unsure and glancing around to the others as you tagged along. He knew you had no clue yet. You were playing it blind and suffering for it.

He took you aside into one of the prison’s meeting rooms where once upon a time, a board of directors would’ve gathered. They’d have administered handfuls of men’s fates, and they’d have considered them less than rats. Now this was where Chishiya would administer your own fate, purely because he held you dear.

He opened a palm to gesture to the end of the table. “Take a seat,” he spoke, ever relaxed, and watched you hop up onto the end of the table. It was rickety, chairs kicked and strewn about, the room only lit by the game-master’s searchlights that shone into the windows.

You looked far from comfortable perched up there, the glare lighting half of your face, and he found himself silent. He just looked at you for a moment. How beautiful you were.

He’d noticed many times, of course. The flutter of your lashes as you looked over his features in a fruitless attempt to read his face. Your parted lips channelling the oxygen that fuelled your body, though your lungs delivered it all shaky and uneven. You were stunning to him, even in the worst of times. Even when you were drenched in the crimson of lives you outlived.

But… There was something in this moment. Something about how right now, he was your lifeline. He held that beautiful existence in his hands and this time, he had the power to choose his method of helping. No supervisors to end your life with a swift letter, no list of priority to bump you down. Or at least, you were the priority.

“What is it?” You jerked him from his thoughts, your ankle bouncing once more where it swung below the table. “Chishiya?”

He gifted you a smile, but it didn’t soothe you.

Your eyes narrowed instead. “What are you hiding from me?”

A soft hum of laughter as he took slow, deliberate steps closer until he stood directly before you. A pinkness on your neck caught his eye and his head tipped in curiosity. He reached to slip a finger into your collar, lips pursed in question as he felt the irritated heat of your skin underneath. “Mm? Do you have a latex allergy?”

“Lat-? No.”

He pulled gently on the band at your neck, stepping even closer to peer at the line of irritation from the garment. It wasn’t until he finally removed his hold that he noted the moisture on his finger-- your sweat. The salt must have caught in the material and rubbed you raw, leading to irritation and the slightest blood spots beneath your skin.

“You’ve been pulling at the collar.”

“It’s tighter than when we started.”

Chishiya knew that wasn’t true. His was perfectly fine - comfortable, even - but he didn’t give a thought to argue. Your stress was having physical implications, making everything even worse for you. Anxiety really is a bitch, he mused.

“Water.” He held a hand out to the bottle and you placed it in his palm. His eyes fixed on yours as he opened it up-- and only at this point did he realise quite how close he was.

Your knees put a comfortable, familiar pressure on either side of his hips, his face uncommonly close to yours without the presence of a bed, but he had no intention of moving. He just took the space and owned it, relishing in the slightest hue of red that dusted your cheek, sure to notice it deepen as he raised your chin between his finger and thumb, guiding you to lift your face.

“This will be cold,” was all the warning he gave before trickling the water down your neck.

You hissed and jerked back, likely from the cold or the sting of the freshwater on your salted wounds. “Shit, Chishiya.”

He simply chuckled inwardly, lips hitched in a humoured smirk as he rinsed your skin. He let the little stream of water run across your throat, taking his time to work towards your other ear. His touch on your chin remained delicate as a doctor’s touch, directing you to look the other way for his ease.

This intimacy, he pondered. So rare in the home world. It was one thing to be a physician in a hospital, and another to use basic, opportunistic materials to heal someone who depended on him so wholly. A patient may fight to survive on their own accord, but here, in this game, with you… Everything rode on his word, on his actions. Everything.

A strange magnetism in his chest drew him ever closer to your skin, until his lips soon met the human warmth beneath your ear. It was a slow kiss, tender and deliberate, and he relished in how your body naturally leant into his.

His closed eyes let him hone on the quickened beat of your pulse, the ghost of a thrum against his lips. Your blood pumped the cortisol of your anxiety through the roof, and he remembered his mission to bring it back down, to calm you. He clung to this as a reason to retract from you. If this reaction was from his unsolicited affection, he should know better than to drive your adrenaline too high. 

“Don’t touch it anymore,” he prescribed, voice level and cool, giving no hint as to how hard it was to lean back from you. “The irritation will lessen and you can focus more.”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m focusing on,” you spat in a whisper, uncommonly callous with your words despite the pink to your cheeks as you watched him close the bottle cap once more. He’d seen you panic before in many a heart’s game, but not like this, not after his sparing affection. This game really was frying your nerves.

“Focus on keeping your head,” he murmured, the slightest snort slipping out after. “In every sense of the word.”

“Shut the fuck up, Chishiya.”

It was endlessly amusing to see you like this. The fire that came from your lips right now had never been rivalled before, and any regret he’d had at choosing a Heart’s game for you quickly dissipated. Fascinating to see you lose your mind.

But, he couldn’t toy with you too far. He allowed you to hear his chuckle, low and rumbling in his chest, only audible with the proximity he kept. “Sincerely. Focus on staying calm. All you need to do is trust me.”

“Not so easy in a place like this.”

He took the chance to look surprised. This was his opening to seal any of his own concerns about you. “You think I’d feed you the wrong suit?”

He paid careful attention to how you hesitated, watching the thoughts dance their patterns behind your eyes. You were looking at him without seeing him, close enough that he could see his reflection in your irises. Calculations, calculations, ones that you so visibly struggled to work out. Would he dare tell you the wrong suit? Would it be out of choice or pre-emptive, lest you try to end him first, purely because you’d worried?

Moments passed, and the longer it went on, the more his worries tugged at his thoughts. He needed to prove himself to you to save his own skin. Both of your skins.

His hands settled lightly on your lower thighs, set snug on either side of his hips, and he gave a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to worry,” he murmured, voice low and soothing as butter on a wound, “We’ll survive this together.”

That endearing little tug between your brows encouraged him on, and he couldn’t help but take your chin in his hold again. To hold that sweet face, so trusting, so impressionable. He watched the hope shine in your features before turning your face the slightest degree, exposing your ear once more, to which he leant in. His breath just tickled your lobe as his nose nudged on your shell, words slow and deliberate. “I know who the Jack is.”

The change in your body language was instant. You jumped back to peer at his face, brows high and eyes wide, no longer slouched and dejected. Your hand gripped at his white jacket, fisted into the fabric to keep him close as you murmured, “Really?”

A slow nod. Relaxed eyes and knowing smirk shone in the searchlight, and he planned his next words carefully. He didn’t want you to know who his suspects were, in case you gave anything away and steered the game from its natural course. “I have two suspects, it’s just down to seeing which fails first.”

The elation in his chest at seeing your relief was disorienting. The way you sighed out with almost a laugh, head thrown back to let it escape you… It was an image he wouldn’t forget for a long time. The serenity of his antidote, saving you from the Jack’s poison.

His brows shot up as you snatched his shoulders into a tight, relieved hold, thighs tight on his waist and arms looped around his neck. Your face pressed into the junction of his shoulder, nestled against his hair. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, edging on tears. “You worked it out? I should’ve known. I should’ve!”

He didn’t say anything, only astounded that you might be so liberal in your affections outside his hotel room. But then, he did bridge that gap first. And there were no regrets. He allowed himself to indulge in it, his own arms finding their home around your waist and his nose in your hair. Of course it was a trick of psychological conditioning, but if he focused just right, he could almost smell the residue of chlorine from the days at the Beach.

He indulged in splaying a hand across your back, rubbing soothing circles over your form. This body… He knew the ins and outs of it. He knew where every mole dotted your skin, he could estimate the length of your lower ribs without flaw. His thumb pressed slow pulses in the flesh between the back of your ribs, imagining that he’d place his stethoscope there.

What a sound he’d hear. Each breath, the source of your survival.

Would it be too arrogant to consider himself such a thing too?

[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.

[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!

[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.

[catboytenya]

HI GUYS... my snake was allergic to his last bioactive setup! As a result, I'm currently trying to raise a little under $200 to remake it from scratch using stuff my boy is NOT allergic to!

He does the best on bioactive, and now that he's not on it anymore, he's having some pretty terrible sheds, even with me doing everything I can to raise his humidity!

I would like to get him back on bioactive before his next shed if possible! I'm getting a bit tired of having to help him with stuck shed 😭

If you like my idiot son, Butterbean, please considering buying a $10 flat color bust from my ko-fi commission shop! It's on sale from the usual $25! I'll do canon characters for fandom I'm familiar with, as well as ocs! I'll do both human and furries!

You'll get both a transparent version, and a version with a simple abstract background

v Said idiot son below v

If you'd just like to donate out of the kindness of your heart and love for Butterbean, my idiot son who tries to eat carpet, here's my ko-fi!

Thank you for reading! I look forward to drawing your guys for you!

EDIT!! THE SALE IS OVER!! BUTTERBEAN IS BACK ON BIOACTIVE! THANK YOU EVERYONE!!! MY BOY IS DOING SO WELL NOW!!

[ladelnet]

[eightiesfan]

ITT 1980

[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]

[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.

[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.

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

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.