#just doing my quarterly clean up

[corcnaiism]

;-- it's been a hot minute since i created this blog, and things are getting a little cluttered, so ima start cleaning out followers and stuff. so if you don't wanna get nuked, like this post or say something idk

[csuitebitches]

Things I Have to do for My Sanity

1. Wake up at the first alarm - no snoozing and no going lying around in bed. Getting up straight away and head to the bathroom. It’s going to suck initially but you’ll get used to it in a few days.

2. Mental self care: 30 minute meditation, brain games mental math, reading, news. Knowledge is sexy and don’t deny yourself sexiness.

3. Daily review in my diary at the beginning and end of my day: what went well, what didn’t, what I need to accomplish to achieve my goals. This has tremendously helped my goals and keeping my motivation more consistent, especially at work. Analysing and correcting incremental changes creates long term success.

4. Cleaning up before bed - clothes, shoes, organising my bag, etc. I set a timer for 5 minutes and try to get as much done as possible.

5. Pick out my clothes the night before and steam iron them for the next day.

6. Face masks twice a week, a hair mask once a week, I scrub the soles of my feet with that foot scrubbing thingy once a week. Manicures every month because my nail beds are too sensitive to do it biweekly, iron supplements so that I’m not a moody bitch. Matching underwear to feel good about myself. Lavender spray on my pillow before sleeping so that I don’t get weird dreams.

7. Reading biographies and autobiographies. My mentor had suggested this to me and it’s amazing how literally I don’t have a single original experience - everything I’ve felt or mistakes I’ve made have already been done by someone else.

I’m going to curate a list of business books that I feel that have helped me the most recently.

8. I write a short essay everyday in the language I’m currently learning. I also end my day by talking about my day for at least 2 minutes in that language and I record it in voice memos to keep a track of my progress. I want to be fluent to a level where I can think in this language.

✨

I don’t generally share a lot about my personal life - none of you know my name or where I’m based and I feel comfortable doing that. But I do want to start giving out more insights to what I’m doing personally in my career - the good, the bad, the ugly.

Being self aware and honest to myself has helped me improve a lot. I know that shame is my Achilles heel, so now I’m reading books to combat that. I’ve caved in and decided to try therapy for a bit to see if what I’m doing is useful or not. My first session is tomorrow. Staying disciplined was my initial hurdle but the systems I’ve set (waking up early + habit stacking) have helped me slowly overcome that.

Work side, I’ve started establishing myself publicly more. I don’t want to reveal too much about what I do exactly but the good news is that our biggest competitor has noticed my progress (a former employee of that company came to us for an interview and directly asked our top management about me). It’s been 4 months that I’ve been working here but I know that next year I really have to swing the bat and hit a home run. I’ve decided to work on the field more and less in the office to really understand people’s needs and create unique solutions.

The daily/weekly/quarterly diary is definitely credited to my recent wins. That’s the biggest change I’ve made in my routine and i can already see that it’s working well. I’m going to continue refining and implementing that method.

Recent work methods I’ve decided to start working on (I’m not required to do these but I do it for my growth):

1. I’ve started studying popular companies’ business and revenue models in detail. Everything is adoptable and adaptable, you just have to figure out how to tweak something for your company’s clients and needs. Now I’ve decided that I want to keep a track of our competitors, their business models, their owners names, pricing strategy, their target audience etc etc on an excel sheet so that I’m aware with what’s happening in the market. 

2. I’ve started making client profiles. Every time I meet a client, I note down their name, the company name, what they were like, anything specific they seemed to like or want, how much they had paid us for a service, what their paying capacity could be, etc. 

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul series | Tae's entry 💜 Paramour

PAIRING: idol!Taehyung x (f) reader (you can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You were born for the quick and glamorous life surrounding celebrities — they had their little dramas and breakdowns, and you were there to clean up the mess. But you have your own secret, and doing your job might get you in trouble with your paramour.

WORD COUNT: 6,2k

GENRE: secret relationship, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: jealousy, drunk driving (❗), dirty talking, teasing, edging, fingering, slight degradation, brattiness, Sub/Dom (Tae), semi-public, exhibitionism, almost caught, unprotected rough sex, nipple play, hickeys and bruises, post-orgasmic crying 👀

A.N. Sorry guys, busy birthday yesterday💜 NCT members make a cameo just because I thought it'd be fun 😋 The paramour stands for the illicit/forbidden aspect of the relationship, not cheating. This oneshot is also part of the upcoming @bangtanwritershq 'Got A Secret, Can You Keep It?' quarterly event!

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

You showed the badge hanging on your neck to the bouncer and waited quietly for him to cross-check your name. You glanced at the glacial blue striped lines above the club entrance while you waited. SX — the letters were so hot, that vapor was visibly emanating from them. You pursed your lips — you preferred them in red. 

You rubbed your arms with a chill; it wasn’t snowing too hard yet, but you wanted to go inside where it was warm. He nodded and let you pass, and you smiled, hurrying inside.

Fortunately, despite having the day off, you were supposed to come to this label party, so they had your name. Of course, you were supposed to have leisurely done your makeup and hair, not rushed when called with a bawling demand, but you sighed.

You didn't bother hanging your coat and just crossed the dance floor to one of the private rooms where the sound was muffled enough for people to lounge, have a drink and talk. Yet instead you recognized the team circling a single armchair, and they moved to let you through with worry and relief in their faces. They were your team.

“Hey,” you called out, and as soon as Una saw you from where she was sitting on that armchair, she threw her arms around your waist, bawling convulsively. You eyed the stylists and makeup artists, holding her back while you mouthed, “Eunbi?”

Everyone shook their heads, and you sighed, giving up on it. She was supposed to accompany Una tonight so you could enjoy yourself for a change, but you were there now.

“Alright,” you said firmly, kneeling so you could look at Una clearly. She was easily overly dramatic, but there was usually a reason for it. “Tell me what's wrong. You know I can fix it for you, just tell me what it is.”

Una didn't hesitate, sniffling and smudging her makeup away as though a firefighter had come to rescue her. “He— He was— all giggly and close to her!!”

She hid again, crying on your shoulder next to your dress strap, that fortunately was black, and you sighed. You petted her head as you mused on how to fix this. He — Winwin, Una’s boyfriend. Her — another girl, inconsequential, anyone, it didn't matter. Una was a star, but she got insecure about their relationship way too easily. 

You were musing on how to diffuse her breakdown when she pulled away to speak through sobs, “Unnie— Unnie—”

“Tell me,” you allowed gently, despite the way she was crying. Even her eyelashes were gluing together, but she was still like your younger sister.

“I want— to giggle— and be close to another man too!”

You did your best effort not to roll your eyes, and before you could get up and direct your team, she gripped your arms.

“Please! I'll behave! Don't send me away, just— I'll ask for only that.”

As if to convince you, she started to compose herself, reeling in her cry and wiping her face.

You sighed, “It's not nice to draw someone into this.”

“Pick someone from the label, someone nice. I'm friends with all of them, it's just pretend, please—”

She was going to start crying again, and you heaved a deep breath, holding her strongly in your arms for a beat. The senior manager would kill you and Eunbi if Una, the exceeds-expectations rising star, was caught upset and leaving the label party, but you weren't sure this option was better.

You pulled away when you felt her calm in your arms, then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “Are you sure? You can't ruin someone's night just to make him jealous.”

“I'll behave, I promise,” she sniffled, and to her credit, you did believe her. “Choose someone nice, unnie. Maybe Jungwoo if you find him.”

Your eyebrow quirked at the name, and you nodded, getting up and instructing everyone to make her look like the star she was. You turned to her, “I’ll see to it. No more crying, okay?”

“Thank you, unnie.”

Her smile was angelical, and you only sucked in a deep breath before leaving the room to the main dance floor. The loud house music reverberated along your rib cage while you scanned the room. You saw the managers, the staff, the artists; you knew almost everyone and smiled whenever they greeted you. Your eyes kept searching and stumbled on Winwin, leaning on the wall, talking to a woman. His blonde hair stood out as he played with the straw of his drink, and you rolled your eyes. He was just talking to the woman. If you reacted like that every time your man whispered secrets into another woman’s ear, you—

“Hey!”

A hand on your arm almost startled you, but it was Eunbi, and you squinted, “Where the hell were you?”

“Una’s dog swallowed a toy, I had to rush her to the vet!” 

Poor Eunbi. She was sweating, with her dark bangs gluing to her forehead despite the snowy cold outside, which told you she had raced here. This was turning out to be an even shittier night for her.

“Una texted me, saying she called you! I’m sorry, unnie!”

She bowed frantically, and you placed your hands on her shoulders, “It’s okay, calm down. I was coming here, anyway. Just make sure she doesn’t leave the backroom without calming down first.”

Eunbi nodded and was gone before you knew it, making your eyebrows twitch. Was it because you had managed to sleep a proper eight hours tonight that it seemed to you like everyone was out of it?

Your eyes pinpointed Winwin in the same position, with the same girl, before you kept looking for who you were truly searching for. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed Taehyung with his friends, chatting casually. His jewelry was sparkling under the club’s lights, with his newly bleached hair in that warm color you liked so much. It fell like waves over his eyes, and you couldn’t help your smile. He looked good no matter what, but that was a favorite of yours.

Finally, you found Jungwoo a bit further ahead. He was hanging out with his close circle in a corner of the room, and you nodded, agreeing with Una. He was gentle and quiet, almost shy for an idol — he’d listen to her story and respectfully help Una through this.

So you made your way to him, smiling up to him when his eyes fell on you. His mouth stayed open, as if he had forgotten what he was about to say, and you smirked, “Long time no see! Can I join you for a moment?”

Taehyung almost did a double take when he saw you pass without even noticing him. His friends were casual enough to not notice and to allow him to train his eyes on you; where were you going?

He saw you sit next to Jungwoo with a huge smile, and his guts twisted. Why were the other people around you leaving you two alone? Why were you sitting so close to him, talking into each other's ears? Surely it was to hear each other above the noise, but it still made him close his fists. Jungwoo could surely take a whiff of your perfume every time he leaned in like that, so close to your luscious hair, and it just wasn’t sitting well with him.

Taehyung was about to walk over, do something he wasn’t exactly sure what, when you got up and walked away. That was enough for him to just go for it, ignoring his friends calls. All he could see was you, standing on your long smooth legs barely covered by a black tight dress, leaning on the bar counter to ask for the bartender’s attention.

“What are you doing?”

You turned, your eyes finding his on sheer magnetism. The corners of your lips raised, “Ordering drinks.”

You knew your mischievousness was slipping through, you just didn’t care. He leaned in a bit more, glancing around before speaking closely to you, “Are you having fun?”

You didn’t hide a grin, your teasing tongue peeking through before you chuckled, “My night was almost ruined, but it’s sure getting better.”

Whatever he was about to say got interrupted when the bartender reached you.

“One whiskey sour, one porn star martini, and one vesper.”

The bartender left and Taehyung didn't waste a second, leaning close to you, “I didn’t know you managed Jungwoo now.”

“I don’t. I don’t manage male stars anymore,” your eyes trailed over his silhouette from top to bottom before settling on his dark eyes. 

Your head tilted to the side, inviting him to say something more, but you could see his hesitation. His eyes were low, not just thinking about what to say, but actually apologetic.

He looked around at the bar, lips twitching before he voiced quietly, “You’re going to drink?”

“I’ll take a taxi.”

You felt his body press closer to yours, if pushed by the other people wanting a drink or just to touch you, you didn’t know. Either way, your eyes fixed on his, acknowledging that the world didn’t exist when he looked at you like that.

But then the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, and Taehyung moved away, pursing his lips. You smiled at the bartender with a thanks, and grabbed the whiskey sour, “Here.”

Taehyung looked down at the drink in your hand pressed to his chest, then at you.

“For your mood,” you winked, before grabbing the other two drinks and walking away.

You handed Jungwoo his drink and left to get Una, and were expecting to leave them together and go on your merry way. Instead, Una insisted you stay with them, and to your surprise, there was no wailing about Winwin. On the contrary, the conversation was pleasant, and you finally had one drink comfortably. It was not the networking you were expecting to get done that night, but at least it was calm and interesting.

At first, you thought Una needed her unnie’s support, then that it would be best you stayed so things wouldn’t get awkward or controversial. However, right about when you wanted to question Una’s decision, she got up and confronted Winwin. Or so it seemed, and you sipped on your drink as she jumped on him to kiss him, barely letting the man breathe. You saw Eunbi race to deal with it and chuckled; fortunately, that was not your job tonight.

Jungwoo shifted in his seat next to you, and you finally turned to him with a smile, about to thank him for his help with Una when he smiled, “Would you like to dance?”

Taehyung’s whiskey sour didn’t last long, but his sourness did. How could it not, when you stayed with Jungwoo after Una left? A part of him stayed rational; you were hanging out with people, and you were around idols all the time. But you weren’t talking to him professionally, not anymore, since Una left to make out with her boyfriend in one of the backrooms. No, you were quietly chatting just the two of you, and Jungwoo was leaning into you again, touching your beautiful hair.

He thought he could hold himself back by looking away and turning a purposeful back on you, but then he saw it. Your hand settled on Jungwoo’s leg and his blood boiled. 

The water bottle he was holding cracked as he closed his fist, grinding his teeth with all the things he wanted to do and say, but couldn’t. You got up with a small head bow and Taehyung smiled, ready to open his mouth and say goodbye to his friends, but then Jungwoo followed you. And Taehyung saw just red.

He shoved the bottle to the chest of whoever was trying to stop him, pushing them all aside to get to you. He gritted his teeth, growling in annoyance; all those people in the way, some trying to grab onto him and talk to him, and meanwhile you and Jungwoo were further and further away across the club.

A familiar voice tried to hold him back with an arm around his shoulders, and he shoved them back. He didn’t care where he was, who he was, or when. He gave no fucks about appearances, no fucks about staying quiet. All he cared about was you, and you were walking out of there with him.

He kept pushing people aside to get outside until he finally managed. His thoughts were incoherent, only getting to you mattered. You’d have questions, you’d tease him, but he didn’t care. He was justified, he—

He stopped right outside the club, noticing you standing with Jungwoo on the curbside. Taehyung opened his mouth, ready to call out for you, when a taxi stopped in front of you, and he staggered. He stopped breathing when you smiled mischievously at Jungwoo and stepped inside the vehicle. 

For a second, his heart stopped.

Then you closed the door and waved goodbye, and Jungwoo waved back before bowing. And Taehyung took a breath, but growled all the same, and ran to get to the label's parking lot where his car was. He drank, so he shouldn’t drive, but he had to confront you about this. He was about to explode and it was all your fault.

As soon as he parked, he had no recollection of driving, only of gripping the steering wheel and shaking as he raced there. The tall apartment complex where you lived stood right before him, and he fought the seatbelt to get free and out of the car. He ignored the snow falling and rushed to your doorstep, fortunately without slipping, only to stumble.

You were there, outside, leaning on the wall and absentmindedly scrolling through your phone. Your eyes raised to his, then put your phone away, turning to the side to dial your code instead. He saw you push the door open, but when you turned to him, he didn’t move. He was so mad before, but seeing you like this made him realize that was not all he felt — he was hurt.

You held out your hand to him with a welcoming smile and when he took it, you dragged him to the elevator. After selecting your floor, you wrapped your arms around his waist and sighed into his chest.

“Una wanted to make Winwin jealous with Jungwoo,” you revealed, safely tucked now that he was holding you back.

He took a second to press his lips to your head, “Yeah, and Jungwoo was totally into you.”

You almost chuckled, but had the sense not to, “Nah, he’s just kind, and took Una’s drama. He was just thankful I was there to help.”

You could feel Taehyung nuzzling the top of your head, inhaling your scent, and you just melted. You thought he’d be mad about the whiskey sour tease, but having him hold you like this told you this was about more than a silly cocktail.

He sighed, “Una is making things difficult.”

You pulled back and grinned, “Well, it happens when I can’t manage my superstar anymore.”

You booped his nose playfully and he searched for sadness or disappointment in your eyes, which he didn’t find, to his relief. “True, but… Maybe…”

When his voice disappeared, you incentivized, “Maybe…?”

“Maybe you should tell her about us.”

Your eyebrows jumped, “Why?”

“Because—” He held back for a second, but your wide eyes were enough to unravel him, “Because Jungwoo looked more than just thankful and if she had stayed with you, he wouldn’t have tried anything.”

You smirked, “How do you know he tried something?”

“He did?”

You couldn’t hold a poker face and laughed, even as Taehyung’s expression was turning from surprise to annoyance.

“Una can't keep a secret and I like my privacy,” you explained, knowing he knew this. You were cautious about the fact, not just who your SO was. You knew how the media and your coworkers worked — you didn’t want to plant the subconscious idea that it was possible. The less suspicion, the better. “Besides… if I did that, then how would I make you jealous?”

Your smile turned sly, and he had no qualms pushing you against the wall, “Is that what you were doing?”

You grinned, “Let’s say I didn’t shy away from the opportunity.”

Despite the irritation in his eyes, it was hard to resist smirking and teasing him. You could barely contain a giggle when he leaned into your neck to bite you in what to him constituted a punishment. But to you, it was far from it. You raised your hand to grab and intertwine your fingers with his hair, and closed your eyes, letting the tingling run down your spine. You bit your lip; it was a matter of time until he noticed that the marks he had left a few days ago were gone, and—

He snorted and bit harder, sucking hard to create new marks, and your grin widened. Even when he squeezed you impossibly, pressing you to the elevator wall and nibbled over a sensitive spot, you didn’t stifle your moans, though you remained quiet. You were melting between your legs with each bite and groan, knowing he couldn’t let you go because he wanted you so much. Your attention was so focused that the elevator doors opened and closed, and you didn’t even notice.

His lips trailed down to your cleavage, and your nails sank deeper into his scalp. You bucked your hips against him, blood running hot in your veins, far beyond the point of teasing. Making him jealous was the least of your concerns; rather, having him kissing and touching you was everything you always wanted, and you’d ask for nothing else.

He squeezed your waist to his, knowing well what your restless hips wanted when they bucked into him, but he had other thoughts. He licked and nibbled across your chest and nuzzled to get under the fabric of your bra, reaching with his tongue for one nipple. You shuddered from head to toe, losing the strength on your legs. He held you and the wall behind you supported you, but you were beyond waiting.

“Tae,” you cooed, torn between pressing him to your chest or pulling him to kiss you.

It didn’t matter what you wanted, because he offered resistance, more aggressively suckling and nuzzling your skin on your other tit. You moaned, sure that you’d be bruised at that point, and it only made you gush more between your legs. You didn’t want him to stop, but if he could do that while fucking you into the wall, that would be great.

Since pulling on his hair didn’t work, you let go of one hand to scratch down the back of his head and nape. His groan gave you shivers, and you licked your lips; you were so ready to consume him in any way he wanted, but he was still stubbornly away.

His coat was heavy, but he only had a silk shirt underneath, so instead of trying to strip him, you let him ravish your chest while one of your hands sneaked underneath his shirt.

His breath shook against your wet skin, and you grinned, knowing that goosebumps covered you both — you, from his licks trying to reach your underboob, and him, from your nails grazing his lower stomach.

“Baby,” you called again, continuing your torture. “Let me touch you,” your voice was sweet, yet he ignored you. He wasn’t able to hide his groans, though, or how you made him shake, so you continued, “I want to touch you, you’ll feel so good…”

Your tone was a playful promise, yet all he did was sink his fingers and teeth more into you. You were sure your chest would be covered in hickeys, and despite your smile, you were getting restless.

So you moved your hand expertly down, squeezing it past his belt, pants, and underwear to find what you were looking for.

You squeezed his hard cock in your hand, and he crumbled a little, groaning louder against your skin. You let him rut into your hand for a moment before continuing, mercilessly, “Feel that, baby? You’re so ready for me,” your voice was sweet, but your smile was sly. Your poor baby was groaning and leaking into your hand, unable to shy away, and you knew you’d win. “To make me yours, right?” He bit harder on your clavicle, and you chuckled, amused by his annoyance. “Look at you pretending to be mad…” You leaned to whisper into his ear, “But you can’t stop fucking my hand—”

He suddenly moved away from your chest and wrapped a hand around your neck. He faced you so closely, your noses touched, but the dynamics weren’t necessarily inverted yet. Despite his hand on your neck or your vulnerability, his hard cock was still in your hand, and you knew how to make him kneel.

And you made that point by jerking him off a bit more, squeezing so hard, you knew it could have hurt anyone else, but not him. All he could do was fight back the pleasure with a mask of indifference, but you saw right through him.

“You’re dying to bury yourself inside me, aren’t you?” Your tone was taunting, and his dark eyes only riled you up more. “Come on, give yourself what you want most.”

He chuckled, and moved to whisper into your ear, “You think that’s you?”

You smirked, “I know it’s me.”

He was already biting down your earlobe; he hummed, “Maybe I should teach you a lesson.”

You let your head fall back to the wall with a laugh, “You’re welcome to try.”

Your laugh didn’t last long; with a hand around your neck, firmly pinning you, Taehyung took the other to raise your dress and reach your throbbing core. You bit your lip while you waited, defiance mixed with anticipation in your glistening eyes. He saw this too, and despite his harshness to pull aside your clothes and underwear and shove two fingers inside you, you could only crumble and pray not to unravel too soon. You moaned desperately, turned on by absolutely everything: his harsh fingers inside you, the sloppy sounds from your cunt, his firm hand around your neck keeping you vulnerable to him, your tits half out of your bra and dress, covered in hickeys, and his stone-hard leaking cock in your hand inside his pants.

His dark eyes on yours were unsurmountable walls, dead set on teaching you a lesson, and you smirked yet again. Despite his rough handling, he knew you loved it, and with just a few bucks of your hips, you’d unravel so fast—

“No,” he pulled his hand away. “Didn’t think I’d let you, hm? Not so fast.”

You didn’t answer; you were ready to beg and coo for more, but his fingers were inside you again in a second, making you keen. Your moans were desperate, and your face didn’t hide all the ways you were falling apart for him.

“You talk so big,” he whispered to your red cheeks. “But you fall so quickly. Look at you,” he whispered, and you couldn’t seem to open your eyes, so close you could pop any second if only he let you. “So close already, how pathetic.”

You only groaned, with your cheeks and chest burning at the insinuation, but as he added his thumb over your clit, you let go. You let your head fall back; you wouldn’t fight him anymore, you wanted him to take care of you in every way, take away every thought and responsibility, and to exist only to feel good in his hands, and make him feel good.

Your moans echoed in the elevator along with your obvious wetness, squishing around his fingers. You opened your eyes to see him, thinking how pitiful you must have looked, basically begging him with every eyelash bat to consume your very existence, but he didn’t budge. 

Maybe he thought there was still defiance left in you. 

“Think anyone else can do this to you?”

He bit his words between teeth, and you could only melt more, shaking with a wave that could start your rapture, if only he didn’t purposefully keep it at bay. You moaned, and let your free hand caress his cheek gently.

“Think anyone else can make you feel this way?”

Your eyes filled with tears, but you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t reply. His jealousy gripped your heart firmly, reaching a deep part of you that needed to feel wanted and desired unconditionally, irrationally. On the other hand, he was still rutting into your fist, edging himself just as he edged you, as though that torture was shared between you both. That was your Tae, your man, fulfilling you in ways you couldn’t even voice.

“Please,” you tried, but it was weak. You were trembling, melting, overheating, functioning at a primal level that could only feel him, nothing else.

You saw in his glistening eyes that he would crack too, especially as he nuzzled your hot cheek, “Think you’ll ever beg for anyone else like you do for me?”

“No, baby, please,” you stammered, supporting your hand on the back of his neck to keep him close.

The corners of his lips curved in the hint of a smile, but then he shook his head, nuzzling you, “No, baby.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, rubbing his thumb over your clit deliciously slowly just to make you keen unashamedly. “You told me to teach you a lesson.”

“I got it,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He waited, seeing in your concentrated expression how you thought you would come, and he licked his lips. He knew you all too well, he’d keep edging you until he got what he wanted. “Tell me,” he insisted, drawing your attention again. “What have you learned?”

“I love you.”

You opened your eyes to tell him this, and his eyes flickered with a spark. He couldn’t tell if you were teasing him, pulling at his heartstrings, or genuinely crumbled and succumbed to anything that wasn’t your love for him. You smiled at his hesitation, knowing he had good reasons to think twice, and that was your undoing.

His fingers relented inside you, and he squeezed around your neck firmly, “You only learned that right now?” His tone was sharp, and you smirked, unable to stop yourself. Teasing him was too fun, even when you didn’t intend to do it, and having him all over you was the sweetest of rewards. He leaned over your lips, brushing them, “Such a smart ass you are.”

“You love it,” you bit back when he didn’t let you finally kiss him.

Your heart was confused between submitting to him or taunting him again, especially seeing how shaky and overheated you were, but then the world plunged. The elevator started going down and the sweats down your spine went from molting hot to freezing cold. You glanced at the panel, same as him — the elevator had been called back to zero from the fourteenth floor, where you lived.

You looked at him, ready to rationally deal with the situation, but all you found was a challenge in those dark eyes. Your eyebrow quirked quizzically, and his fingers restarted moving ruthlessly, making you jolt against the wall in surprise.

“I guess you have to convince me you’ve learned your lesson fast.”

You widened your eyes, the hot and cold shivers clashing on your lower belly, confusing you, “What?”

“You heard me.”

His eyes were dark and intent, and you almost cursed a cry. That was the serious Taehyung eyeing you intently. He wouldn’t forgive you if you failed, and you were totally adrift. The pleasure was undeniable, but so were the chills down your spine.

He bit down your neck, pushing his fingers so hard at your core, the contrast almost gave you whiplash. You wanted to scream; everything was mixing inside you in a storm. A minute ago you would have jumped and came hard, but now, with every inch the elevator went down, fear was gripping your heart.

“Baby, wait— stop— we’ll get caught,” you pleaded. 

“I don’t care,” he pulled away to look into your eyes, and you fluttered around his fingers. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

His voice was softer now, as if he felt the same torment as you, and you were sure he did. He was still hard in your hand, reacting to your core around his fingers as though it was inevitable. So you sighed into his cheek, his scent bringing tears to your eyes still locked with his, sparkling the same as his. You belonged to him, always had, always would. You knew that, and he knew that, no matter how much you teased him about it. But you had never felt it so intensely, in your spirit, in your soul, in your bones. So owned, both in pleasure and otherwise. And safe. Even if that elevator reached zero and the doors opened, he would love you unconditionally always. Your love was undeniable, even when faced with the possibility of getting caught. Even if it would ruin your life, your career, or affect his. There was only the truth, and you wouldn’t keep it from him.

“I love you,” you said, and for a moment he thought you were still being defiant. “I love you, I belong to you, I’m yours. I want you to hold me for the rest of my life. No one but you will ever touch me, I love you so much—” Your voice wavered, and he instantly pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss that had a tear running down your cheek. As soon as he moved away, you still managed, “I don’t care about anything else.” His hand moved from your neck to your hair, holding your head up, so your glistening eyes didn’t hide. “I just want to be with you forever—”

His lips smashed yours while his hand darted from your hair to the stop button, making the elevator shake to a halt. Then he pressed your floor again, and as the elevator went up, so did you. His tongue was inside your mouth, showing as much desire and desperation as yours, while his hand restarted fingering you roughly. Only this time, it seemed like you were a firework ready to blast once the fuse ended, and you wanted it. You fisted him harshly too, your hand so wet you doubted if he hadn’t come already, but by his ruts, you knew he hadn’t.

You thought you were set to come with him when the elevator stopped, but as it stilled, so did Taehyung. He gave you a last kiss, took his hand out of you, and pulled your hand from inside his pants. The doors opened, so you thought you’d make your way to your apartment and finish things there, but he stopped you.

Right as you were passing the doors, he grabbed your arm and pushed you against the frame where the elevator doors had retracted into. He spread your legs with his so that one was outside, on your floor, while the other stayed in.

You sighed, “Tae?”

He pulled your hair to the side and kissed your neck, then glued your ass to his crotch. You both groaned with his hard cock rubbing at you teasingly, and he pressed himself fully to you, groping your tits harshly, “We’re not done yet.”

He sounded frantic as he kissed down your neck, squeezing and rutting into you so hard, you wondered why he wasn’t inside you already.

You raised your head to tell him that when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, through the elevator mirror. He had his eyes closed, lost in kissing every inch of your skin he could, while he used one hand to release himself. You moaned just at the sight of his juicy hard cock, and closed your eyes in anticipation while you felt him fumbling with your dress and underwear until the tip was pressed to your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, teasing you both while he got coated, and you only ground back into him.

He sounded desperate, but so were you, and nothing would stand in the way of feeling him again, of being part of him, loved by him, and used by him.

Your nails scratched the metal door frame, and you almost cursed and begged for him, but soon he was pushing himself inside you, and you groaned. He pushed further and further, giving you time to clench and feel the sting, adjusting to his girth, before finally tucking himself fully in, raw in your wet, soothing embrace. He tried bucking his hips, and you instantly keened, letting the stretch reminding you of how amazingly fulfilling it was to have your love inside you.

He didn’t wait a second to start fucking you in a demanding rhythm, grasping you by your hips, then waist, then chest, shoulders, neck, and even hair. His hips were ruthless, smacking into yours to fill you up every time, and you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t stop moaning, and you didn’t stifle those down either, so drunk on him that someone could have showed and found you, and you wouldn’t have even noticed. All you wanted was the smack of his hips against your ass, the blunt shove of his cock inside you, pushing and dragging against your walls, poking you inside, turning your body into nothing but pleasure.

He leaned closer, changing the angle to hit your g-spot in a way that stole your breath, but not more than the words he grunted into your ear, “I love you so much. I fucking want you, you’re mine.”

You were ready to cry your love too, but then your eyes met through the mirror and the hint of anxiety in his hurt you deeply. His eyes quickly softened with his affection for you, but your heart couldn’t forget it. Teasing him was one thing, another was to actually hurt him or make him insecure about you.

“I’m yours,” you tried, though your voice was hardly your own with each moan. “Tae— I’m—”

His fingers had gone around your waist to rub your clit, and talking became nearly impossible. “I’m here, baby. I got you,” his voice was a groan. He was tucked so deep inside you that you knew he was holding his orgasm back. “I’m waiting for you,” he nuzzled your neck, and your eyes rolled back. “From the moment I met you, I’ll never stop— Never give up—”

Something in your lower stomach was about to explode, overheating you to the point you couldn’t breathe, until you snapped. You bucked your hips deeper, feeling the burst of your orgasm imminent, and you screamed. His fingers were the perfect push, and your core throbbed, sucking and pumping his pleasure out of him. He groaned into your neck, pressing you by your mound to sink on his cock as deeply as possible, and your nails scrapped the metal frame. His cock twitching deep inside you increased your sensitivity to the point that tears fell down your cheeks, despite the absolute bliss lighting up your body. The way he swayed his hips to jerk the last drops inside you, then pressed you closer to stay inside you and all around you, made you shake with a sob. That was how he loved you, attentively, completely, unconditionally. And you had stupidly hurt him.

“I love you,” he whispered incessantly as he held you and pecked your salty skin. “You’re everything to me, I never loved anyone like this.” You shook with a sob and his tone changed to worry, “Did I hurt you? Are you nervous?” He rubbed your hands and let you come further back into his protective embrace, “I’m sorry, baby. I wouldn’t ever let them catch us, I’d never risk your safety like that.”

You knew that, and it somehow hurt you more — that he’d do everything to protect you while you so childishly hurt him.

“I— I’m sorry,” you tried your best to stop your bawling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or suggest that I’d ever want anyone else, I— I love you!”

He held you even harder, knowing you need that, “I know, I’m not mad. I was… worried he’d impose himself or something.”

“Jungwoo… He wouldn’t,” you sniffled, and before Taehyung had time to let his jealousy resurface, you continued, “I told him— I told Jungwoo I have someone. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said instantly, nuzzling your cheek with a half hidden smile. “I don’t mind.”

You nodded, still sniffling and cleaning your face, but relieved with his kisses and snuggles. Then you pulled your hair away from your face, and brushed the back of your knuckles to his cheeky smile, “Let’s go home.”

[dilf-din]

Two Favors — a Joel Miller story

Rating: G

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for girl dad Joel!

WC: 1250

For @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno coffee house challenge prompt: farmer’s market

Fridays were hectic enough without fighting your way to the farmer’s market before it closed. Your best friend called at lunch to remind you of your dinner and pumpkin carving plans, which had slipped your mind in the middle of your quarterly fight with the shipping department to fill out their dang PO’s correctly. During your weeklong task of flagging down half a dozen different employees who didn’t care half as much as you did what parts belonged to what project, you completely forgot about your annual fall soup party.

The sun was already fading in the sky by the time you pulled into the parking lot. Loose gravel crunched under your boots and the wind was blowing the stray strands of your hair, getting them stuck in what was left of your chapstick application on the freeway a few minutes ago.

The farmer’s market was a community hit year round, but especially in the fall. Local bakers had trays stacked high with apple cider donuts, sourdough with thick crust and intricate carvings, and mini pies bursting with every fruit you could imagine rimmed with buttery crust and thick sugar crystals.

Your mouth watered just thinking about all the goodies, or, whatever would be left at this hour at least. Dusk meant just a few more minutes before the shops that weren’t already cleaned out for the day would be heading home to their families.

With your arms piled high with squash and corn, you lucked out grabbing the last loaf of bread from your favorite stand. A final lightbulb went off when you remembered the pumpkin carving portion of the evening, and you saw one round, orange beauty waiting just near the back corner of the tent that shaded the parking lot stalls from the Texas winds.

You fished a five dollar bill out of your cardigan pocket and shuffled across the pavement to grab the last gourd, smiling at the middle aged woman who took the cash and wished you a good evening.

You pulled out your phone to shoot a message to your friend, letting her know your ETA, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“I’m sorry darlin’, it looks like they’re all out.”

Joel Miller, widowed neighbor, business owner, and girl dad extraordinaire. You had moved a few houses down from him in the spring when your job transferred you a thousand miles away from the cul-de-sac you grew up in.

Joel was always friendly, the kind of neighbor who would take your trash cans back up to your garage on cold days. He always smiled and nodded on the rare mornings he left late enough to see you climbing into your own car. You always pegged him as shy, but friendly.

Beside him came a small dejected voice, “But we’re supposed to carve a pumpkin toniiiiight.”

Sarah looked downcast, a grumpy frown the likes of which you had never seen before turned her lips completely upside down as she scraped the toe of her already scuffed sneaker against the ground. She had a pair of purple fairy wings strapped on over her puffy jacket, and her curls were extra voluminous from sitting on top of her thick outer layers.

Joel knelt to eye level with her, sincerity in his voice as he responded, “I know, but they’re all out baby. We’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“It’s because you always work late,” she grumbled.

From the corner of your eye, you could tell how much that hurt him. You rounded the stack of hay bales you had been occluded behind, and hoped he could forgive you for cutting in.

“Did I hear someone was looking for a pumpkin?” you queried, your voice colored with a mischievous smile.

“Me! Me! Me!” Sarah exclaimed, reaching her hands out.

“Well, I just happen to have this extra one lying around,” you said slowly, “Do you think you could take it off my hands?”

Sarah’s frown turned into a smile of equal radiance, and she hopped in glee.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Joel stood from his crouched position. He had watched the whole interaction with a look on his face akin to the one the grinch the day his heart grew three sizes.

“Don’t even try to talk me out it,” you warned, raising one eyebrow in mock seriousness.

“I know better’n to talk you out of anything,” he smiled shyly.

“At least let me pay ya for it?” he fished a worn leather wallet from his pocket and started thumbing through bills.

“Keep it. Better yet, get her some of that apple cake,” you pointed towards the front with your free hand, shifting your bags in your arms to adjust for the space the pumpkin freed up.

“Let me carry those to your car,” he opened his arms, desperate to compensate for your kindness somehow.

“Thank you Mr. Miller,” you smiled, as he scooped the paper bags out of your grasp.

He whistled a simple three note tune and called, “Sarah, time to go.”

She scrambled back to his side from where she had wandered to talk to one of the other vendors.

“Truck’s unlocked,” he instructed the girl as she swung the heavy door open with one hand, being careful not to drop the pumpkin tucked under her arm.

“I’ll be right back”, he called, but she was too busy strapping the pumpkin carefully under a seatbelt to care.

His arm brushed against yours as you crossed the small parking lot to your sensible sedan. You popped open the trunk, and Joel carefully nestled the bags into the back, next to a box of clothes you had been meaning to drop off at the thrift store.

“So chivalrous,” you teased, as he closed the truck for you.

“I really appreciate you being kind to her.”

“It’s just a pumpkin,” you shrugged it off.

“She had a really bad week, so it’s more’n just a pumpkin. Just, thank you,” he said sincerely, with a smile that allowed you a peek into the weary eyes of a single dad trying his best.

You reached out and squeezed his bicep through his jacket, “I was happy to do it, really. I’m making soup tonight. Can I bring you a bowl tomorrow?”

“Then I’ll owe you twice,” he countered, leaning against the side of your car casually, his hands shoved deep in his jean pockets. You suddenly became aware of how close you two were standing.

A chill ran down your spine, and you hoped you could play it off as the wind kicking up.

“I like coffee. And dinner,” you toyed the line, “And my gutters could use cleaning,” you threw in for good measure.

“How about I bring you one of those pumpkin lattes and clean your gutters on Sunday?”

“Where I’m from, that’s a marriage proposal, Mr. Miller,” you said in mock surprise.

He laughed loudly and shook his head, “You’re getting ahead of yourself. I haven’t even had your soup yet.”

“Oh, everyone who tries my soup wants to marry me. Consider your battleship sunk.”

He laughed again and opened your door for you and stepped aside so you could climb into the driver’s seat.

“Guess I gotta go ring shopping,” he leaned in with a low voice and a wink before closing your door and shooting up a hand in a wave.

You waved back, but inside you were dying to tell your friend that you had a date with hot dad neighbor. Hopefully that would make up for the fact that you were now turning up pumpkin-less.

[oakantony]

Yes, Chef

A completely uncalled for Hisoillu Chick-Fil-A AU. I honestly have no idea. Maybe I'll put it on AO3 one day idek. (It's in progress. Enjoy the rough draft.)

tws for this part include: neglect, financial abuse, verbal abuse, homophobia, ableism

future tws for this story will eventually include: canon-typical violence, explicit sex, possibly the raunchiest handjob i've ever written in my life

Enjoy!

-

It didn’t matter how accurately Illumi wrote the quarterly reports, how perfectly he arranged the weekly schedules, or how precisely he ordered supplies--his father would always fuck it up and leave Illumi there, alone, to clean up the mess.

In this case, literally.

His 15-year-old brother, Killua--middle child of the family and now shortest-lasting employee of their fast-food empire--had completely trashed the kitchen before giving his father, and Illumi, the middle-finger. “I quit,” he said as he stormed away. “Don’t expect to see me at home, either. I’m quitting this bullshit family, too.”

For some reason, Illumi believed him this time. Maybe it was the enormous backpack he carried with all his essentials--packed like he truly meant to move away. Maybe it was the new friend he’d found last month, whom he claimed had a bed big enough for the two of them to share. Maybe it was because Illumi, deep down, understood the sentiment.

Hm, no. Not that last part. Never that last part.

Illumi was loyal to his family until the end. How else was he meant to live? The vast fortune belonging to the Zoldyck family awaited him--so long as he continued to manage the business.

“He’ll come around,” said Silva in a gravelly, too-certain tone. He adjusted his suit jacket, looking perfect and statuesque despite everything. “He’s just in those hellish teen years.” He placed an enormous hand upon Illumi’s shoulder as a farewell and started to walk away, his long white hair swaying in a braid.

“Wait,” said Illumi. He swept a hand over the overturned prep station, the spilled jugs of peanut oil, and the broken dish sprayer dripping water down the side of the stainless steel cabinets. “We open in twenty minutes, do not have our pre-prep, and now we are down a cook.”

Silva raised one silver eyebrow. “I’ve trained all of my children to handle this. So handle it.”

He departed, checking his phone almost idly, utterly unconcerned. The pink sky of dawn winked through the door’s gap briefly before it sealed shut. Click.

Illumi hadn’t worked a fryer in almost six years. He took a deep breath and tied his long, straight, black hair into a high ponytail at the top of his head. He would have to net it before cooking, but this was fine for now. He’d debated cutting it many times previously--

But his father had long hair, and there seemed to be some sort of unwritten pride in maintaining hair like this even in a setting that would make short hair…simpler. And Illumi would do whatever it took to make his father proud.

Perhaps working the kitchen today will feel nostalgic, like back when I was a teen, he thought as he began to clean the kitchen. Quickly, efficiently, and well enough that most wouldn’t even be able to tell it’d been nearly destroyed. His first employee came in whistling, oblivious to the issues.

“Good morning, Canary,” said Illumi.

“Hi, boss,” she replied, bowing her head in greeting. She looked at the mop he held and across the kitchen, which was back to square zero--almost.

“Will you prep?”

“Oh no. Did the evening guys forget?”

“No,” said Illumi. “My little brother was meant to start his first ever shift this morning. Instead, he destroyed the kitchen.”

“Killua?” she asked, head tilted.

“That is correct.”

She hissed through her teeth in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ll get on that. Does that mean we’re down a man?”

“Do not worry. I will work the fryer today so that Amane will help take orders.” His watch trilled in warning. Sixty seconds before the doors open for the morning. He began to list off the things they needed: “Onions, tomatoes--lettuce is already shredded, but we need it pulled out from the walk-in--”

“Yes, yes. I got it, Mr. Zoldyck. You go check the front of house.” She held her hand out to take the mop. “I’ve done pre-prep at least a hundred times. I got the list memorized.”

The tightness Illumi didn’t even realize he had between his ribs began to loosen, allowing him to breathe in deep. Relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate you.” He would have to remember this moment when it came time for promotions next month--Canary was more than deserving of the assistant manager role. By the time he thought to say as much to her, however, a line of SUVs materialized very suddenly around the brown brick building, and several parents were standing at the doors.

Later, he noted to himself. He would tell her later.

He unlocked the door, held it open, and greeted, “Welcome to Chick-Fil-A.”

“Thanks,” said a particularly harried-looking mother as she stepped inside, holding the hand of a toddler covered in what Illumi hoped was dried chocolate.

“My pleasure,” he replied.

-

“It’s too bad you’re usually stuck at the front with customers, because you’re really good at this, actually,” said Gotoh. “I forget sometimes that you worked in the kitchen for years before taking over as manager.”

The timer chimed, alerting him that the chicken breasts were done cooking. “Father starts all of his children off as fry cooks,” said Illumi, deftly lifting the basket out of the pressure fryer. “This is a much simpler job than balancing books.”

Gotoh chuckled as he placed another tray of battered breasts aside Illumi, ready for the basket and fryer. “And you prefer cooking?”

Illumi watched the cooked chicken tumble into the shiny silver container and pondered the question. “No,” he said. “I prefer strategizing. My ideas are better than my food.”

“We don’t ever really use original ideas,” Gotoh pointed out. They had a set menu of items with some seasonal pulls and, on occasion, test products that came down from corporate. No one manager would have power enough to exact real change.

He knew as much. It didn’t stop him from scribbling restaurant concepts in the office after business closed, considering the popularity of certain items, the cost of ingredients--it was almost like a puzzle, but a creative and original one. “It is just idle thinking. Nothing I would ever do in reality.” 

Silva had made that abundantly clear during their last conversation on the topic. Illumi glanced up to the dented stainless cabinet door to the left of Gotoh, fist-shaped. It almost seemed to wink at him in cruel memory. Illumi still needed to get someone to come out to do that repair. City inspectors pointed it out on their last sweep; technically a dent didn’t break any laws, but visible damage in the building did pull their ranking from A+ to simply A.

Illumi changed into a new pair of gloves and began to prepare the next batch of chicken breasts. “After I drop these, will you wait for the timer? I need to check our applications.”

“Of course,” said Gotoh. “You managed to fill in on the fryer and post a job listing already?” He turned to look at the big digital clock over the kitchen door. “It’s not even one PM yet. You’re damn efficient.”

“That is what I am paid to do. Be efficient.” He lowered the basket into the fryer and made quick work of fastening the latch.

Gotoh chuckled. “You know, there’re rumors you and Milluki don’t even get paid for working at your father’s restaurants.”

“That would be ridiculous,” said Illumi. “And illegal.”

“Oh, I know,” said Gotoh. “Your father wouldn’t do something so disrespectful anyway.”

“Indeed.” Illumi got paid biweekly, just like everyone else. His checks were directly deposited into the family’s shared account. While he didn’t have his own card to use, his mother made sure to give him a handful of twenties each week as "spending money." It seemed fair enough; the rest of his income was likely used to pay the family's many bills. The allowance he was given was generous, really, considering he got to stay in his childhood bedroom rent-free. Not that he had much choice. He'd talked briefly about moving out a few years back and his mother burst into tears almost immediately--

He was going to be thirty next year. He would broach the topic then. Probably.

He pulled off his gloves and headed towards the manager’s office. “I will be back in twenty.”

“Take your time,” Gotoh called back without turning around.

-

His feet ached, his stomach growled in hunger, and sweat covered him head to toe, but Illumi nonetheless arrived at the isolated booth at exactly the correct time to interview the only real candidate he’d been able to find for the fry position in the last twelve hours. Already the qualified stranger sat, eating a complimentary order of fries.

Illumi took a minute to catch his breath, appreciating the soft plastic cushion beneath his seat. He actually had yet to sit today. He’d just hauled an enormous bag of trash to the dumpster, alone, and he’d nearly been crushed under the weight of used paper trays and styrofoam cups as exhaustion made his arms twinge and shake. “Hello,” he said, only slightly winded. “I am Illumi Zoldyck. Manager.”

“Hello. Long day, I see,” came the low, teasing voice of--?

Illumi looked down at the paperwork he snagged. Hisoka Morow. “My day has been fine,” he said, nearly believing it. “Busy. But fine.”

“Funny,” said Hisoka. “Mine has been exactly the opposite. Slow, but terrible. I’ve never been so bored in my life. Please hire me, if only to give me something to do.”

Illumi looked up, surprised, and took in Hisoka for the first time.

He was severe-looking, but unusually handsome still, with an angular face, doll-like smooth skin, and vividly pink hair. “We do not employ cooks with unnatural hair colors.” He took his pen, slashed through Hisoka’s name, and began to stand up. “Thank you for coming in.”

“That’s no problem,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand to stop Illumi from departing too quickly. “I read the rules linked in the listing. I wouldn’t’ve come here to waste your time, I assure you. I’m happy to wear a hat.” He shrugged. “I’ll cut it, too, if you insist.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, giving him another once-over. He was clean-shaven--and clean in general, which counted in his favor. In fact, as Illumi lowered back into his seat, he realized Hisoka smelled very good. Fresh, warm, and a little sweet. It was a subtle scent--he’d not bathed in cologne like some interviewees of the past. “Very well. Your resume says you have extensive experience on the line at Revere.”

“An understatement made purely for legal reasons,” Hisoka said. “I was the sous.”

Illumi slowly lowered his pen to the paper, glaring at Hisoka in complete disbelief.

“It’s true,” said Hisoka. “I’m not allowed to include it in my credentials because of some, hm… issues with the chef there.”

Illumi tilted his head in thought. “Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Oh, you know him.”

“K City is not that big. I know all the restaurateurs. They are our competitors.”

Hisoka laughed, and loudly. 

Illumi bristled and said, “I do not know what is so funny.”

“The idea of corporate--industrial--large scale fast food fried chicken considering itself in competition against one of the most elite Italian fine dining restaurants in the country is--” Hisoka’s smile turned catty. Sharp. “Quite unfair. It has a Michelin Star.”

Illumi was silent, mostly in shock, for a moment. And then he said, coolly, “Our business serves an average of 2,491 customers per day and earns upwards of eight million dollars per year. At this location alone.” Illumi tapped Hisoka’s resume with the end of his pen. “By my estimations, Revere earned a profit of under 1.2 million last year, and is slated for even less by the end of this one, and Lucilfer works in his kitchen every single night, 365 days per year, and has done so for thirty months so far. If you add the other stores in our portfolio, the Zoldyck business nets profit at almost ten million total without my father ever having to step foot inside these four walls. And we’re closed on Sundays.”

Hisoka blinked in a way that made it apparent he was tallying the numbers Illumi just shared. “You’ve done your research.”

Illumi continued, undisturbed, “You are right. It is rather unfair for me to compare Chick-Fil-A to Revere. We are not in competition.”

Hisoka slowly sank in his seat, a smirk growing on his face. He placed his chin into his hand and glanced Illumi up and down, as if reading the blue-striped polo uniform. “Interesting. Tell me--are you forced to wear the khakis, or is that something you’ve opted to do for yourself?”

Illumi stood up and wasn’t interrupted this time. He ripped the resume in two as he backed away from the table, words like ice. “This interview is over. You will not be offered the position. Thank you for your time.”

Hisoka called after him, voice a suggestive purr, “My pleasure, Illumi.”

-

Illumi stood in the doorway of his room, staring. Numb. The smell of burnt oil, of salt, of car exhaust lingered in his hair, under his nails; permeating him so entirely that he felt inhuman. He was, instead, a piece of sentient furniture from Chick-Fil-A. And he was so tired that he contemplated skipping the shower just to pass out (and clean his sheets the next day). 

But there was a problem with that plan. With any plan.

His door was gone.

“You’re going to stand there for how long, exactly?” said Milluki, his younger brother. Second oldest of the kids. Manager of the Byren neighborhood Chick-Fil-A--an under-performing, but still meticulously maintained, store. “You’re gonna have to go talk to them eventually.”

“You say, ‘them.’” Illumi turned to look at Milluki, all too aware that his dark circles and pale-sweaty skin made him look nearly sick. He had been awake for close to twenty two hours and pulled a double shift. “Mother and father both removed the door?”

“Maybe. I heard them talking.” Milluki took a slow sip of the iced tea he’d brought home from the shop. “Said they were mad you didn’t already have a replacement fry cook, or something.” He shrugged. “Really, they’re just mad about Killua, but he’s not here to be mad at.”

Illumi looked at his empty doorway. Half a hinge hung off the corner, bent from when his father must have wrenched the door away earlier. This wasn’t a rare punishment in their household. If a child behaved poorly, they got their door taken away. No privacy, at least until they served time for their crime. “I am to be punished for not posting a listing, finding a replacement, and placing him on the schedule by closing time.”

“Sounds like it,” said Milluki. “You really couldn’t find someone?”

Hisoka’s hot pink hair flashed in his mind, and then his feline smile, and his--wait, what color were his eyes? Illumi couldn’t recall. Eventually, he said,  “No.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna have a door until you hire the role. Or until Killua comes back.”

Illumi took a deep, steadying breath, and headed to his parents’ bedroom to listen to their complaints. And while his father berated him, shouting insults about his lack of focus--his patience being mistaken for fear--his affection for his staff being mistaken for condescension--his beautiful appearance being mistaken for vanity--

Illumi stared at his door, propped up on the far wall of his parents’ bedroom. It covered one of their windows, but they had several more in this wing of the fancy “McMansion” they had built after Illumi was born. 

“I won’t stand for your distraction,” Silva said with an air of finality. “Today’s failure is about your attraction to men. Isn’t it?”

Illumi blinked wide-eyed at his father. “I am sorry?”

“You’re gay, aren’t you?” his mother asked from the bed where she was tucked beneath the covers. “We’ve been discussing it. You’ve never liked a girl. Not ever. It’s because you’re gay.”

“And now your preferences are getting in the way of your judgment.”

This was so far out of left field that it took Illumi a moment to gather himself enough to say, “I am not gay.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“I am not,” he repeated. “I simply have not had time to pursue a relationship.”

His father threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you’ve never gotten laid. I’m a monster, giving you a good job, at a good establishment, making good food. Yes, I’m a fucking nightmare parent.” He pointed one large, well-manicured finger into Illumi’s face, and hissed, “You have no idea how lucky you are that you were born into this family. That your whole life has been served to you on a silver fucking platter.”

“I know,” Illumi said. “I am very grateful.”

“So don’t bullshit me on your utter lack of a social life.”

Illumi looked over at his mother and saw her flexing her jaw impatiently. Eventually, the connection between today’s failures and his sexual preferences bloomed, fully-formed, in his mind. “Oh. This is because Killua moved in with his best friend.” Pause. “His gay, male best friend.”

“No. This is about you,” Silva said.

“You are wondering about all of your children, now. Whether or not we’re also gay. Did you inquire with Milluki?”

“Milluki has a girlfriend,” his mother said, shrilly. “Online. He’s our only son that we know, for certain, isn’t queer.”

She wasn’t using the word the proper way, Illumi thought. It wasn’t a reclaimed term representing a community of different people. She meant it as an insult. “I do not have time to date,” Illumi repeated. And immediately amended, “I have not made time.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this,” Silva said, stalking closer. “If you ever bring a man anywhere close to this house, you’ll lose more than your door. Do you understand?”

Illumi lowered his head. “Yessir.”

“And hire a fucking fry cook by the end of the week. Don’t make me ask again.”

-

Inside the kitchen, a timer chimed from above and below. The roar of voices--chatting, taking orders, requesting items--pressed in from all sides. Distantly, two car horns honked.

Illumi pulled the fry basket and dumped the cooked chicken into the container and hissed as a splatter of hot grease grabbed him around the wrist. The handle to the fryer slipped from his fingers and clattered to the brown tiled floor, hand spasming in pain.

Another timer. More voices. Another honk.

“Mr. Zoldyck? Hey--Mr. Zoldyck?” He ignored the burning, pulsing pain and kneeled down to scoop the handle from beneath the cabinet where it’d slid away. “Illumi!”

He stood up, hair falling free of its net, and came face-to-face with Amane. “Yes.”

“We’ve got a complaint. She wants to speak with the manager.”

Illumi looked at the fryer, the alarm continuing to chime. “It will be a minute--”

“She’s throwing quite the fit, sir--”

There was a loud clatter--the sound of a tray hitting the tiled floors in the dining room--and an ear-piercing scream that Illumi knew, as the eldest of five children, belonged to an infant. 

Amane reached out to take the fryer basket handle. “I’ll take care of the food. Go ahead.”

Illumi shook his head to clear it--he felt dazed, still. Foggy from a lack of decent sleep. The real issue with not having a door was that his enormous family’s sleep schedules all varied, so he was shocked awake only an hour or two after he finally was able to fall asleep last night.

“Mr. Zoldyck, your hair--” Amane said.

Illumi reached up and found the hair net caught around his left ear. He tugged it free and threw it, and his gloves, in the trash. He strode through the kitchen, to the dining room, and was able to find the offending woman very easily. 

“It’s an allergy!” she shrieked. “An allergy! I told you she had an allergy and now my child has puked, and if you fucking retards think I’m cleaning that up, you have another thing coming!”

The infant, Illumi noticed, was wailing alone several feet away. Red-faced and trembling in her little red mary janes. "Mamamama," she sobbed.

Illumi approached the woman with one hand outstretched, directing her away from the cashiers. “I am very, very sorry for your experience.”

The mother's rant stopped as she found herself surrounded by Illumi’s tall, unusual presence. “What?”

Without missing a beat, Illumi also managed to scoop the child up, off the floor, and into his embrace. She was small enough that he could hold her with one arm. Her child’s shrieking stopped--almost immediately. The tension inside the restaurant broke, finally. Several patrons breathed out in relief.

Illumi patted the baby sweetly upon her leg and she stared at him with a wet face, frozen in childlike awe. She sniffed and Illumi produced a napkin--branded, of course, with the iconic chicken silhouette--and wiped her nose with the practiced ease of a five-time big-brother. He said to her mom, “I will comp your meal while you have a seat.” He gestured to the only available booth, walked her there, and handed the child into her arms. 

“Well, I’m not cleaning that mess.” The woman stiffly pointed to a watery pile of debris that had already been blocked off by a caution sign. 

“We would not expect you to,” Illumi said.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

While the restaurant went back to normal, Illumi felt truly exhausted. “In addition to your refund, you have received a ban. We will take your image from security footage and if you enter this establishment again, you will be escorted out. And if necessary, I will press charges for trespassing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not allowed to call my employees fucking retards without consequence.” He looked at her daughter. “Your baby is welcome whenever she would like--as soon as she is old enough to come without you.”

He escorted her to her bright red SUV and when she sarcastically said, “Thanks a lot,” he responded very sincerely in return.

“My pleasure.”

-

His back twinged in pain as he sat in the manager’s seat in the office--closet, really, with a desk--and scrolled through security footage to find a clear image of the newly banned patron. He found her, easily--and something else he hadn’t been looking for.

A flash of hot pink hair, a fanged grin, and a handshake.

With Gotoh?

Illumi watched as Hisoka walked with Gotoh out the far side door of the restaurant. He took a deep breath, printed off the saved image of the woman, and stormed out to the parking lot where Gotoh parked every day.

He sat in the front seat, sipping a shake, tapping away at his iPhone. He didn’t even notice Illumi until he opened the passenger side door and said, “Why were you meeting with Hisoka Morow during your lunch, Gotoh.”

Gotoh jumped in surprise and relaxed immediately when he realized it was Illumi bursting into his car. He placed the shake into his cup holder and gestured for Illumi to sit. “It was a request from your father. You know him?”

“He was the candidate I interviewed yesterday. And rejected.”

Gotoh’s face turned grave. “I had no idea.”

“And you met with him because my father said to do so.”

“He didn’t say you’d already interviewed him. He just said it was the only qualified candidate our location received and that I should court him--do whatever it took to get him on board--so I did.”

“Do whatever,” Illumi echoed. “And what does this mean.”

“He can keep his pink hair, as long as it’s under a hat, and he’s starting at twenty per hour. He also requested to work your same shifts, which I told him would be no problem, since you’re here every day. He begins tomorrow morning.” Gotoh lifted his phone. “Should I call and fire him?”

Yes, Illumi almost said. He frowned in thought. “You did not find him to be an unattractive candidate?” Gotoh seemed to relax, marginally, and Illumi realized he had been speaking clipped--angrily--before. He had an intensity about himself, he knew. He’d been told many times that his ‘vibes’ were, occasionally, ‘haunting.’ (Amane’s exact words.) Illumi softened a bit as he said, “I am sorry. I thought, briefly, that you were working for the enemy.”

Gotoh gave Illumi a thin-lipped smile. “I’m loyal to the last. If I’d known this was the same guy, I would have pretended to not have seen your father’s text about it.”

“You found Hisoka to be an acceptable candidate?” he leaned forward in the seat. “I found him to be abrasive, hostile, and ignorant about the industry.”

Gotoh clicked his tongue. “My impression is quite different. He seems too qualified, if anything. He’s definitely weird, but that’s why he’s gonna be in the back.”

“He did not like me,” Illumi said. “I do not think he will respect me as manager.”

Gotoh’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Again--my impression is…different.”

“Explain.”

“That was one of his stipulations, I said. He will only work shifts with you.”

“Why?”

“He has aspirations to run a restaurant of his own one day, he said. He wanted to learn from the Zoldycks themselves. I figured you’d enjoy having another employee with bigger aspirations within the company--when you’ll likely graduate to regional manager next month, you’ll need good minds here.” Gotoh rocked his phone back and forth midair. “But we can tell him ‘nevermind'. I’ll call him now.”

“No. It is fine.”

Gotoh hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Well, your shift is over, Lumi. You want me to drive you home?”

Illumi shook his head. “I need the walk.”

Gotoh scoffed. “Do you? You’ve been up since, what, five? It’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

No. He was very tired. Illumi gave Gotoh a small, slightly strained, smile. “Thank you, Gotoh. I will enjoy the walk. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Along with Hisoka,” said Gotoh.

Illumi left the car and ignored the way his back twinged, yet again.

[hourcat]

alonso+stroll. no.9. YOU GOTTA 😹 ( i mean you dont but i saw you saying sth so if u wanna practice i gotcha babe) 🩷

9: one night stand but the next morning you learn it's your CEO's kid

In hindsight, Fernando realizes it probably wasn't the best decision to take the kid home from the bar. Nothing good happens in Manhattan on a Thursday after 11pm, and especially not when the next day involves a quarterly presentation that his team has been scrambling to put together for months, now. If he were smarter, maybe he'd have called it a night after the last toast with his analysts. Hell, maybe he wouldn't have shown up at all.

The thing is, right after their row of chairs at the bar had cleared, Fernando had turned to look for one of the senior leadership teams and ended up with a face full of unidentifiable blazer--which had, of course, ended up being Lance. Lance, who'd apologized and introduced himself blandly but with a glint in his eye. Lance, who'd offered to buy Fernando a drink with a dark, raised brow that'd been urging him on.

Lance, who's now dragging him to the too-small bathroom at the back of the bar like his life depends on it. Fernando is far too many drinks in to protest such a blessing, this stranger and his big hands pawing at his belt like a desperate puppy: he'll just have to roll with it instead. "Easy," he chuckles, voice sounding distant to his own ears, "easy, princesa, this is my nicest suit." It's not, really, but Lance doesn't need to know that. They have to slow it down or he's going to make a mess of--well, of himself. It's been a long time since he hooked up with someone like this in a bathroom of all places. He's not 27 anymore.

"Really?" His companion's voice is breathy but clearly disbelieving, both brows now arched at his words. "It's not that nice." Fernando is too drunk to be immediately irritated, which works in his favor, because in a beat Lance's face breaks into a shit-eating grin, head thunking back against the stall carelessly, like he knows what he's doing. "I've wiped my ass with nicer."

Such an asshole. Fernando huffs a half-formed laugh, then thwacks his arm heavily into Lance's chest, knocking a little uff from him. "You talk too much," he counters, forcing his weight into Lance a little more. The low groan of approval he gets in return just makes him put a little more effort into it. "What, is playing with daddy's money not enough for you?" The younger man's eyes seem to glaze over at his tone. "You want to see what it is like to do real work, hm, is that it." Fernando's not going to bother trying to make this work here and now--he's going to drag this rich pretty boy back to his apartment on 57th Street, and he's going to fuck all this haughty, smug energy right out of him.

Lance goes easily, and the night passes all too quickly. The mess left behind when he scrabbles for his now-filthy blazer and all but disappears from Fernando's place before dawn is the only proof he'd ever been there in the first place. It's probably for the better, anyway: he's now working against the clock to put himself together and keep all of his Q4 talking points in relative order instead of think about the noises he'd ripped from that stranger sharing his bed all night.

He's going to secure that end-of-year bonus for his team the moment he walks through the conference room doors--

of course, that's before he sees Lance sitting in that same now-clean blazer at the end of the table, seated next to Fernando's CEO and picking at his nails uninterestedly.

Side by side, the resemblance is uncanny.

"Oh, fuck."

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello,

I need help. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I need someone to tell me to stop worrying? Oh let’s be honest I have no idea what I need, that’s why I’m writing in.

See, I have a perfectly ordinary job during the week. I work in an office. It’s nice. Spreadsheets, cake on birthdays, quarterlies. It’s a boring existence but my afternoons and evenings are my own and the pay’s good. Sapio-Liminal relations are improving, but by bit. Honestly I’m just impressed my coworker got the time off when they wound up expecting in two of their three dimensional shifts.

So that’s during the week and you’d be forgiven for thinking I’m just about the most sapio a sapio can be. My liminal properties tend to activate on Friday afternoons, when I- travel.

Teleport?

Move. I move. To the same general area of a whole new plane of existence. It’s a known family trait- I’ve got a grandfather who became king of a small nation in my secondary plane, and my sister’s the apothecary for the capital city. She sells the really good potions, by the way, so if you’re in the area of Spirits and Sundries or someone gives you a radiant quest to bring ingredients to Amaranthia in the Bronze Quarter, just be polite and she’ll fix you right up.

Ah, but this isn’t about my sister’s business, it’s about me and what I do. See, this shift is so regular that I went and got myself a weekend job, just to have something to do. So if you’re sent to the Caves of Madness just north of the Foresaken Forest, be ready for the Riddle Master!

I’m in the first room of the dungeon, just after you pass the initial key puzzle. I keep my uniform in a chest in there, and there’ s a nice break room off the back. I like the work a lot! I see lots of new people and I’m always gathering riddles- there are some chat standards but I like to mix it up sometimes. They aren’t supposed to be hard, or else what’s the point of trying to conquer a dungeon? So sometimes, I admit, I give hints. There’s always the rude adventurer who attacks me first but when you take a job like this you don’t die, it’s in the fine print. I don’t like cleaning the blood off my stuff, though. Takes ages.

Anyway now that we’ve walked halfway around the block, my point.

I look very plain. Humanoid, two arms, two legs, a beard. It’s never bothered me but I am very distinctly ordinary which tends to be recognizable and last weekend I was in the village during my break and I saw a coworker. Not from this side, not from the Caves of Madness, no. It was Tina, from accounting. She was picking up a quest by the stocks.

And I realized, she might wind up at the Caves of Madness. She might make it through the puzzle door and be faced with the Riddle Master only to realize this Riddle Master is Jeff. From the office.

I don’t have hangups about my two worlds meeting- it’s hard to, when your sister pops in for Christmas still dressed for the Winterscratch Festival, or your brother’s filing out taxes for a whole kingdom over lunch. I just really like my job in the Caves, and I like to think I do it well. Our rating as a starter dungeon’s quite high, and I’m proud of that. What if my transdimensional adventurer coworkers encounter me and just- aren’t impressed? That’s not the Riddle Master, that’s Jeff. He has a rubber band launcher on his desk. His mug says ‘party naked’ with a balding chicken on it and he won’t let HR throw it away.

I don’t want to disappoint adventurers, especially not ones who work with me in my primary plane. I also don’t want to cause harm to my dungeon’s reputation. But aside from the whole ‘moving planes’ thing I am utterly dull. What do I do if my performance isn’t enough to make up for not being fantastical like Mordrath the end room boss or Reyala the sidequest kobold queen?

Is it okay to just be Jeff the Riddle Master?

Thank you for writing in, reader. Your letter serves as an excellent example of quite a common genre of letter we get through the inbox here at the Nightfolk Network and I think it might be rather illustrative for other followers.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but what you've done here is make up a scenario in your head based on the worst possible interpretations of everyone involved, and then worried yourself sick about that scenario coming to pass.

This may sound a little blunt, but please understand, I don't mean that dismissively. I only hope to offer you a little perspective, and to help you come to a more accurate understanding of the situation as it actually stands.

You enjoy your work in the dungeon, and are clearly doing a good enough job to keep your managers happy. None of your previous visitors have expressed any disappointment at your relatively mundane appearance, and it hasn't been an obstacle in the job so far.

Perhaps your co-worker will end up in your dungeon. Perhaps she'll make it to your section, and perhaps she'll recognise you. So what? I don't see any reason why she should be any more likely to be disappointed by you than any of your other visitors.

And even if she is disappointed, that doesn't have to mean anything to you. She's a co-worker, not a treasured friend whose opinion could make or break your self-esteem. You owe it to her to be a conscientious, respectful colleague. That's all. What you get up to outside of work, and whether she enjoys your efforts, is irrelevant.

You haven't let down your dungeon so far, and I see no reason to believe you will in the future. Stop borrowing trouble from the future, and concentrate on having fun and being the same old Jeff the Riddle Master you've always been. He seems plenty interesting to me.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[songoftrillium]

So how would the concept of lifting the Veil fly with the Garous in WtE.

Like I suspect that some wolves in the Eastern Concordat and maybe the Glass walkers has shopped the idea around the tribe since if people knew that Pentex stuffs pollution demons into they products then it won't look good for they quarterly report to say the least...

Of this idea would probably get shot down by leadership Espically the shadow lords since presumably they still take they task of preserving the Veil very seriously. And the glass walkers would probably just try to quash that idea since they position in the Western Concordat is tenuous as is. They don't want some young pups brain worm to make thing worse.

I'd say it's a complicated matter, but not much moreso than prior editions. There are certain circumstances wherein the veil is lifted in particular regions a la the Rend the Veil rite. In cases like that, its more a situation of extreme conflict where public exposure is entirely unavoidable. Though, I don't think that's what you're asking. A short answer I have is that there would likely be a development of Kinfolk Fellowships that are wholly disconnected from Garou Septs, wherein those belonging to the community pattern themselves after the behaviors of other Kinfolk.

The question I'm gonna answer here is "What does Gaian society look like to a Kinfolk?"

I think examining that will make much more apparent what a non-Gaian "lifting of the veil" may resemble. There are, by and large, two kinds of Kinfolk that exist: kenning and callow. A kenning Kinfolk is one that grows up aware of their Gaian heritage and their connection to Gaia and belong to fellowships that espouse their tribal beliefs while (in the western concordat) largely kept at the periphery of Septs and Caerns, interacting with other Garou only for specific occasions (beyond your typical family function.) Callow Kinfolk are those who grow up without any awareness of their connection, and only when they experience their First Change do they become aware of their nature. Depending on locale or upbringing, every tribe has at least a few callow among them.

In cases of kenning however, they have to exist at the periphery of Garou Society, if nothing else for the constant danger many Garou find themselves in. All the same, if a kenning kinfolk undergoes their first change, they already know the Garou Tongue, live up strongly to their auspice, and largely already kinda know where they stand on the affairs of the Gaian Realm (material world.) So, what does lifting the veil look like to an insular Eastern Concordat society?

Lets start with the basics. A Gaian has to live a spiritually clean lifestyle. The things they eat, the manner in which they're prepared, the holidays they participate in, and the manner in which they participate, will reflect their cultural background but will be oriented towards regularly participating in what amount to regular cleansing rituals. Other things would likely be incorporated as well, such as orienting ceremonies and rituals in such a way that function like practical chiminage that draw protective spirits into a space (even if the mortals arent entirely aware of it.) The fact of a human being tainted doesn't mean they are evil, so much as open to possession and corruption by banes. Cleansing a populace makes them immune to possession, so changing society at the community level can make enormous strides towards reducing the number of fomori in the world. I could see parallels to a Halal or Kosher aspect of societies to inspire ideas there. Basically where the rest of the world fails them, they have to make up for it in their own communities. The Codes and Creeds of renown could form the foundation of such non-Gaian fellowships:

Glory Creed

I shall be valorous

I shall be dependable

I shall be generous

I shall protect the weak

Code of Honor

I shall be respectful

I shall be loyal

I shall be just

I shall live by my word

Creed of Wisdom

I shall be calm

I shall be prudent

I shall be merciful

I shall think before I act and listen before I think

Think about what such a society would look like in your own locale. They'd be groups that invest heavily in their communities, espousing ideals of altruism and the betterment of society. Add in a moon-based horoscope and you have the bones of what comes to mind for me. It's important to remember that many basal human emotions feed into the Urge Wyrms that lead the war of Apocalypse. Things like Greed, Apathy, Cruelty, Despair, Hatred, and Alienation, these would be things a Gaian community would likely go to great lengths to root out in their societies. When I think of an Eastern Concordat putting in work to try to integrate humanity in with a 'back to gaia' mindset that's likely where it starts. Many of these things are universal problems everywhere, so I'd see change happening on the human and personal level, in which case the 'knowing werewolves are real' doesn't need to come up. I'd see that as degrees of ways the Eastern Concordat can work to lift the veil that don't put anyone in the front line of danger.

Thank you for asking!

My askbox is open! Feel free to ask me questions about World of Darkness meta, Storytelling, Werewolves in general, or whatever!

[strangerhottotties]

Ty's Kinktober | 11. Anonymous Sex with Eddie Munson

Summary:

Warnings: MINORS DNI +18, Seriously. Sex clubs, voyeurism, exhibitionism, drinking, inappropriate drug use, consensual sex, anonymous sex, Steve being awkward as hell, virgin!perv! Eddie because I love him.

A/N: I want to say thank you to my wonderful readers. I'm really trying to work on quality for you guys instead. I've pretty much just been doing nothing lately. I have no excuse besides the fact that sometimes you just gotta hibernate. In true GoblinGirl fashion, I was just kinda dancing around my dwelling and eating for like 2 months.

A reward for a great quarter and for Eddie graduating, Rick had called it. Eddie's turn in the upside down, and all the craziness that went with it had really increased his risky behavior and made for a great monetary motivator. Because despite his friend being a drug dealer, he still wanted the best for Eddie. He was the older brother that Eddie had never growing up. Rick wanted to mold him, churn him out as someone better than he'd ended up. Besides, Eddie was there to market to the high schoolers who wanted cheap weed.

Steve Harrington was crammed in the backseat, shifting uncomfortably. Every time Eddie looked back he had to hold in a cackle at just how terrified his friend looked. He'd cracked a couple nervous jokes about dealing drugs tonight. Eddie's reassurances to both of them lead to Rick shaking his head often.

Eddie spent the reast of the ride pestering Rick.

As Rick pulls into a parking lot filled to the brim with cars and trucks and other things, Eddie catches a glimpse of the building, people filing in. "Is this a strip club? You know we have those in Hawkins, right? We didn't have to drive all the way to Indianapolis just to see some tits." He chirps as a woman in a skimpy leather makes her way into the building. He could hear the thrumming of music from the building.

"This is better than a strip club. You gotta make a reservation to get into these places. This is the only one in the state."

"What is it?"

"Here," Rick chuckles, nudging Eddie. From his jacket pocket, he dragged out a thick roll of money. "This is for you both. Entrance fee is two hundred, if you want a room, it's another hundred for an hour. You got a grand here." Eddie's brows shoot into his hairline.

"Is this a brothel!?"

"What is this? The Middle Ages? No, man, this is a sex club. People show up to meet people and fuck. It's a good time. The only people they're paying in there are the bouncers and the bartender."

"I'm sorry did you just say sex club?" Steve baulks.

"Yeah, I did. Now, get your ass out of the car and have your I.D.'s handy."

"Hey, what if we see someone who we know." Rick passes Eddie a look. They tread on ahead and Eddie feels his belly roll with excitement at the idea that he might actually loose his virginity.

"Aren't you the Freak of Hawkins?" With an encouraging nudge, he leads on. Eddie feels his heart racing in a familiar way as they approach an awaiting bouncer. There is a crowd out the door. He follows the lead and glances at the rows of skimpy college girls and crowds of frat brothers in sheets made into Togas.

They pause at the front of the line where red ropes cart them off. A burley giant guard the door with a wicked mean sneer. "Please, look at these two." One kid at the front calls, looking like how Eddie expected Steve Harrington to turn out. Clean, pressed and swimming in nothing but Daddy's money.

"Rick. I'm gonna need some ID from those two." The bouncer grunts, giving the two runts behind him a doubious look as Rick gives him a pat to the shoulder.

"Were celebrating."

"Celebrating what? Bought a new trailer?" The kid in line chirps. Steve scoffs at him.

"Excellent quarterlies," Rick grins at the kid, looping his arm over both of their shoulders. Eddie gets the whiff of his cigarettes and cheap cologne. "And my best investor." The kid rolls his eyes at them As Rick starts to lead the two young men in by their shoulders.

"Vinny, do me a favor and don't let this kid chase any of the girls inside away."

"Just what I was thinking, Rick." Up goes the rope. Eddie grins at the guy as they pass into a dark red hallway.

"What! You can't be serious! You're letting white trash dictate whether or not you let me in! You're gonna regret-" The shut of the door seals off the rest of the entitled pricks words. Loud music replaces the sound of it. Eddie is appreciative of whatever guitarist was playing.

They approach a counter with two cashiers. Both assistaning people to start. "It's not about money in here. Just remember to wrap 'em up boys. From personal experience, gonorrhea is not fun." Rick tells them as they form a line to wait, and he hands them both a roll of condoms. Eddie is nudged by Steve, trying to see through the round window on the door. The throngs of people are bathed in the bright red light of a repurposed disco ball.

He follows Steve's eyes toward the rule board behind the Cashiers.

No minors.

No fetish shaming.

Clean up after yourself.

Always use a towel.

No outside food or drinks.

"I'm not gonna see some guy's dick, am I?" Eddie gives Steve a bewildered look.

"It's a sex club, of course you're going to see dicks."

"Eddie," Steve hisses.

"This is so fucking weird. I thought we were going drinking."

"Oh, they've got a bar." Rick replies like Steve was more worried about being able to get a beer, then he steps up to the register.

"Let's just get a drink, and if it's too weird than we can go." This has got to be at least a little cool if it's worth a two-hundred-dollar entrance fee." Steve narrows his eyes at him.

"I'm not gonna look at your dick." Eddie passes Steve a disturbed grimace as Steves words. "Wait, that came out wrong."

"Sure it did," Eddie chuckles and walks to the counter to pay. Steve mutters to himself in mortification. And watches a woman in a tiny black dress hang off of someone old enough to be his grandfather head up stairs on the opposite side of the room.

"What'll it be?"

"Uh, entrance?"

"First time?" The cashier grins at him. "What package would you like?" The cashier spreads a menu out in front of Eddie with a flourish of his hand. Steve approaches with interest. "It can be a little overwhelming at first, you know, a lot to take." Eddie watches as the cashier passes Steve a hot look once over. He pats Steve on the back with a chuckle. Steve shoots him a panicked look.

"What... what would you suggest for two... young... straight guys," Steve hints. The cashier gives him a lofty chuckle.

"Well, if you change your mind, I'm here all night. Our basic services include the bar, where you're welcome to order from our fabulous bartenders. I recommend Lindsey's Liquid Marijauna. It goes down smooth and packs a mean punch, while you look for a potential partner for tonight or simply watch the exhibition."

"Exhibition?" Steve asks. Eddie clears his throat.

"Probably people who liked to be... watched."

"Oh," Steve chimes while his spreading blush creeps down his neck. "Yeah, of course."

"That's the Classic package, but really, why stop there when you could sample the whole spread."

"There's more?" Steve chirps nervously.

"So much more," the cashier purrs. "The Gold package gives you all of that, an hour in one of our personal rooms, with a fully stocked mini bar, access to the buffetroom where you can choose what and where to eat, and the pool if you'd like to cool off, but I never recommend water as lube."

"That sounds kind of unsanitary."

"We pride ourselves on cleanly. The pool is also treated every night."

Eddie passes an impress look onto Steve. "Can I ask about the togas?"

"Yes, that's a very exciting event we're having tonight. If you want to you can purchase our VIP package and you can have access to go where you please, including Mount Olympus, it's the orgy room. There will be an excellent spread of fruit and wine before we name tonight's Love Goddess, Aphrodite. It'll be put to a vote. She wins our best suite in the house." The cashier holds up a brochure that showcases an expensive looking room, wall lined with every toy you could want. "And will be allowed to spend the night with whomever she chooses, and all of our ladies who have signed up for the competition have marked that they are single."

"Yeah, and how much extra is this VIP."

"Two hundred total for VIP access."

"You didn't think I'd lie to you, now, would you, Eddie?" Rick jokes, as he appears with a gold streak of paint down his left cheek.

"Never, man." Eddie slides the wad of cash out of his pocket and fishes out four hundred for the both of them."

"Would you like to reserve a room tonight? We have several rooms available for reservation."

"Let's see how the night goes," Rick interjects.

"Absolutely." The cashier chirps and then checks the twenties Eddie rolled out. With a satisfied smile, the cashier lifts his brush up, stroking it through gold paint. "Come forward my little Sex Club virgins!" Eddie steps forward with an awkward chuckle. A nervousness is sinking into his belly.

The paint is cold as a gold stripe is swiped down over his forehead, left eye and onto his cheek, stopping as it neared his mouth. When the cashier leans back, he moves to let Steve step up and the Cashier takes his time detailing a heart on his left eye in gold. "All set, go forth and prosper, boys."

Eddie feels his heart racing as Rick animatedly leads them out of the lobby and into the barroom. It's a club. The room thrums with life. The band is playing something dark and sexy. Edgy enough that Eddie doesn't completely mind the vibe. Above the bar he sees the exhibition. His heart leaps in his chest at the sight, like it was wrong. Despite him anticipating it, the sight of people actually fucking so publicly above the bar gave him a start.

The tits pressed to window as he watched a woman get railed buy a man dressed in a toga. Beside them was a man getting a blow job and the final room was empty for now. The bar was busy. The dance floor even more so, packed with people dancing to the live band playing in the corner.

"Let's get started with my last surprise of the night, at least as far as you're both concerned!" Rick shouts. He passes them each a little white pill. "Only one."

"What is this?" Steve shouts back.

"They call it Exstacy."

"What's it do?" Steve demands.

"What do you think it does?" It's at the bar he gives them a good luck and instead begins to trot after a blonde in a toga.

"He bailed quick."

"No kidding. I'm just surprised he didn't get a drink first."

"We definitely shouldn't take this, right?"

"Nah, he wouldn't give us anything crazy. Drink water with it and you'll be fine." Eddie waves down a stunning bartender with smokey eyes and cleavage. She rolls up.

"This is so crazy! What the fuck did we just pay four hundred dollars for!?"

"Dude, to get laid! Come on, you complain about all the sex you have and you can't handle a sex club?"

"That's in private! That dude is getting blown above the bar!"

"What can I get you virgins to drink!" Steve gasps in offense at her playful grin.

"Two beers. Whatever cheap shit you got."

With a quick lean below the counter, she withdrawals two cans of P.B.R. and sets them down in front of the two. "Someone as Vanilla as you, this is a cruel joke from your friends I guess. Stick out at the bar, Rick will be a while."

"Vanilla? I am not vanilla." She snorts at him.

"Sure," she hums leaning onto the counter with a flirtatious undertone that Eddie picks up on. He rolls his eyes and is gratefully distracted by someone pushing her way around him. She has to brush up against Eddie to get to the bartender. She weasles around him so quickly that she's essentially pinned against the counter and him. He's about to bitch at her because someone is now bumping against his front and back and Steve's climbing onto the open stool, but then he gets a waft of her perfume and decides it's not so bad. He can't see her face, but he gets an excellent view of the stunning curls that are piled on top of her head.

"Lindsey, please, I need a drink."

"You're supposed to be getting ready for the competition!" The bartender scolds but reaches for a glass. She fills it as the girl who Eddie isn't minding.

"Yes, hurry, they're herding us into the orgy room." The girl blinks and shakes her head. "Fuck, I can't believe that actually came out of my mouth."

"You're the one who wanted to show Jean up with your costume."

"IT'S AUTHENTIC!" The bartend laughs and passes her a drink that's blue and most definitely almost straight alcohol.

"Yeah, yeah. Now run for this month's rent!" The girl twists around with her drink and finds Eddie. He's nearly knocked flat at her and finds that he goes mute for once, only offering her a his most charming smile. She sucks in a breath, he sees it in the way that her chest expands. And he doesn't miss the gold paint that is like big winged liner or the gold lips she's sporting.

She tries to lean to go around and he leans with her by accident. Or maybe subconsciously he wants her to stay. She's pretty. And soft. And not wearing a bra. He'd like to fuck them, certainly. "Uhh, excuse me?" She tries awkwardly.

Eddie immediately feels his chest tighten at the girl who was... cute. Very cute.

Steve smacks Eddie's shoulder. "Dude, you have to actually talk to a girl you know."

"I fuckin' know that, asshole." Eddie snaps back. The girl's eyes widen, and she passes an anxious look back at the bartender.

"Uh, it's pretty packed in here and I've got to get to the orgy room!"

"Do you want some help to get there?" Eddie offers. She blinks at him in surprise.

"No thanks," with that she slips right past him.

"She a friend of yours?" He chirps. The bartender smiles a chesire cat smile.

"Yeah, she's not as intimidating as she tries to be. Give it another shot. You're just her type."

"Devilish?"

"Sure, whatever you wanna call it. A suggestion: ask about her dress." Steve doesn't hide his grin. Eddie watches the way the lights make her dress glow all the way across the room. He decides that he's up for a challenge tonight. And he'd really like to fuck her.

....

Eddie doesn't stick around Steve who is hitting on the bartender relentlessly. She's laughing at his jokes at the very least. He explores slowly, finding Rick locking lips with a babe in the pool room. His clothes are soaked through, and the woman is working on unbuttoning his shirt. Eddie tries not to stare and lets his eyes pass the people sloshing through the pool with a game of volleyball. That didn't particularly appeal to him, so he moved on. The buffet was something new.

There was an actual buffet with a steaming spread that actually smelled really good. Some people were eating, and they were also watching couple eating things off each other, feeding each other.

He found the entrance to the Exhibit. And than he came to the gated off section. The Orgy Room was guarded by a bouncer. Only people with gold paint on their faces being allowed through. VIP access, he realizes. He throws back the MDMA, washed down with his beer before he even approaches the room.

The interior is decorated with the sheets and shimmery drapery. There are couches and ornate furnishings. Cushions and hookah, the room smokey and thick around the pond that was the centerpiece. Or it felt like one. The fountain already had people gathering.

The contestants were lining up on the stage at the far end. He grinned when he spotted the girl from before, sipping on her drink at the back of the line.

He found that he wanted to make her face lose that sour expression, wondering what she might look like when she was laughing... and then he wondered what her face would look like after she came. He's imagining her hair sweety and messy - falling out of the careful hairstyle she had. Face flushed and sweaty.

This room drew him in more as he moved slowly though the gathering people. Some of them already celebrating the festivities. She spots him halfway through the room. His eyes are on her. She straightens her shoulders up and tilts her head at him. Still, he approaches, holding her gaze until he stops a few feet from her.

He doesn't actually know her, so he can't be biased, but he thinks she's going to win. "Hi," she replies, not having to shout in here. Although her voice is stern, it's not tight enough to be completely dismissive. "Did you follow me in here?"

"What's authentic?"

"Excuse me?" She asks in confusion.

"At the bar. You said 'It's authentic'."

"Oh... my attire," she offers nervously. She glances down at herself.

"Are you saying it's historically acurate?" She seems to light up as she realizes he's actually asking about an interest.

"Yes, this is a chiton, it's the bottom layer. The upper class wore more dyed fabrics cause they were more expensive. At least until the forth century. That was around the time that the Greeks and Romans started to sew." Eddie find himself smiling down at the excited explanation she gave him.

"It looks really good. Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes! I even hand stitched the embroidery!" Eddie grins at that.

"Really? Can I take a closer look?" He asks. She opens her mouth but is cut off when they announce for everyone to find a seat because the competition is about to begin.

"Shit," she curses.

"Do you want to talk about it more after?" Eddie offers. Her eyes light up at that.

"Oh, you're really trying to get your dick sucked." His eyes widen at her bluntness, but her grin tells him she might not just be joking. "Deal. I want a sofa though!" He grins with red cheeks before he nods once and glances around. There's one close to the side of the stage that he quickly claims. He doesn't miss the stack of black towels nearby, he reaches for the hookah as the girls prep to walk on stage.

They're introduced as the Greek Muses. Eddie catches a glimpse of the fruit that's presented in a bowl. He snatches the grapes as the bowl to munch on as the night starts up. They introduce her as Clio, the Muse of history. He wonders if she chose that herself. She takes the crowd with statuesque pose. Eddie grin when she looks genuinely surprised that she got first place. She gets presented with a scroll of some kind, a basket of things Eddie couldn't see, and a voucher for the best suite in the building for the entire night.

The other women leave the stage as she's lead up to the chase that's decked out with an extravaganza of everything Greek. "Let's let our Aphrodite take her choice of Lover." Eddie's ear perks up when he catches that particular line. The woman's eye's find his immediately. Then she points and Eddie's got to drop his grapes to follow her up on stage. He feels hopeful when she

"Congratulations," he greets as she sets her things on a table. He sits himself on the end of the chaise lounger and watches her make herself comfortable.

"Ha, thanks, I just wanted to place higher than Danica."

"Who?" He asks.

"The red head. She's in my Latin class, she was bragging about winning last month's nurse contest and that she would win the Aphrodite contest. We argued, I said she should be authentic and she laughed at me for it. Besides, Lindsey said it was gonna be in the orgy room and I thought it was an excellent way to study something first hand that the Greeks actually did!.... And I really wanted to beat Danica."

"You want to study orgies, Clio?" Her ears perk up at that and she grins.

"I'm a history major, with a minor in Greek studies."

"Smart and beautiful is a dangerous combination," he offers. She snorts at that and snatches up a towel. "Towel?"

"I don't want to sit bareass on that couch," she replies casually as she shakes out the towel and drapes it right next to Eddie. "Did you get the hookah started?"

"Yeah, here." He offers her the pen, he feels confident enough to ask her a more risqué question. "So does that mean you're not wearing any underwear?" She glances at him as she straddles the chaise he'd chosen.

She hits the hookah with a grin. "Do you play a game?" Eddie realize she's correct very quickly as her skirt billows just slightly. Eddie finds himself laughing softly. There was an intimacy that came from this. Genuine. Any doubt in his mind that he wants to fuck her all night is far from his mind.

"I like games," he breathes. She was leading him like a horse. He was eating out of the palm of her hand eagerly.

"No lies. No names." He considers it out.

"Not even first names?" She draws another hit as he asks.

"No, for tonight only, let's act like lovers. Passionate and unhinged and we'll never see each other again. A perfect night for only us. No holding back. A genuine connection that ends in the morning." Eddie smiles and leans forward to hit the pen between them.

When he sits back, he blows sweet smoke across her.

"Anything for Aphrodite," Eddie affirms. She grins a dazzling smile at him and then eagerly leans closer. She captures his face, studying it with an open affection that makes his heart race in his chest. And then he takes initiative. Her mouth tastes sweet and coconuty. Thankfully, he'd had experience in this regard, when Kathy Higgins had made out with him to get free weed.

He liked when she gasped into his mouth under the full, eager kisses he was giving her. Her hands funnel into his hair. A groan shudders out of him without his control when she tugs it. He could kiss her for ages. The first taste of her already hardening his cock in his pants.

"Did you know the Greeks used olive oil as lube?" She manages to murmur against his mouth.

"And they wrestled naked with it, right?" He gasps back. He can feel her smile against his mouth her tongue flicking out against his open mouth.

"Mhmm." Eddie breaks away from her panting.

"Can I touch you?" Her cheeks are pinking in the same way his are. He sees how dilated her eyes are and decides that she likes what he's doing.

Her hands drop to his and the next thing he knows, his palms are filled with the soft and heavy mass of her breasts. Her nipples were hard, he could feel.

"Holy shit," he breathes out as he focus on one of his favorite parts of a woman's body. "I have to tell you something," he hums as she encourages him to squeeze.

"Yes, Lover?" She hums.

"Don't be surprise if my first round is quick," he rumbles.

"Been a while?" She hums playfully, diving in to mouth at his neck. He shudders under the heat of her mouth and the nipping of her teeth.

"I'm a virgin."

Eddie grunts as a hand snaps over his mouth. She glances around them. "Careful," she urges. "You say that and they'll swarm you." She pauses to regard him for a moment, a stern look on her face like she was trying to think too hard. "How experienced?" She whispers before peeling her hand back.

He shakes her head at him. "Kissing." He expression is still bewildered. "Are you okay with that?" Please be okay with that. Please be okay with that. Please be okay with that.

"Yeah. If I'm going to far... just say so."

"My safeword is bat."

"Bat?"

"Yeah, is there anything uncomfortable for you?"

"I'll let you know." He grins and leans up to kiss her jaw, his mouth is sloppy but she doesn't seem to mind. He experimentally drags his teeth over her neck and is rewarded with a fierce shiver.

"Defintely don't mind the teeth," she sighs out and he's chasing her as she leans back. Eddie follows her until she's pressed below him into the fabric.

"Can I eat your pussy?" He asks, feeling hopeful.

"Not yet," she hums. "Gotta work your way up to it."

"Patience."

"You said passion earlier," he taunts back, words muffled by her collar bone. But he used that to turn around and go back to her mouth.

"Don't push," she hums, "Pull me closer instead." A rising disappointment in his throat snaps into white hot arousal. She pulls him by Steve's shirt down on top of her and he can feel the heat of her cunt against his own arousal. He gives her a shaky sigh before grabbing a handful of her thigh and drives his hips into hers.

She gives him a low moan and his pride soars. He rocks back against her when she arches into him. In just a few moments there is a building between them.

His hands reach across her thighs, sprawling as widely as he could so he could feel as much as he could. His hand feels the curve of her ass as he sinks his fingers deep. He uses it as leverage as he ruts against her. Her mouth is eager against him. "Let me taste you," he groans. "Please."

She pants below him, eyes far away.

"You want to eat it that bad?"

"Yeah," he answers lamely. She rolls her eyes at him.

"Fine," she sighs. Eddie slides off part of the couch so he can kneel before her spread legs. He can smell her and is shocked by the deep arousal it rises in him. He always did have a gross fascination with pussy. He starts with kissing her thighs, that was always something girls cooed over in the PG-13 scenes that they loved so much.

It works though, he decides as she spreads wider for him.

First taste is fantastic. It's briney and filthy. The flavor fades on his tongue the more he laps at her, parting her lower lips to lave his tongue through the dewy residue she was creating. He sinks his tongue harshly into her cunt and she arches completely off the chase.

"You can use some of the food, too." She pants.

"Please touch my clit," she begs softly. His eyes snap to hers, unable to deny her. Especially when her voice was so tempting. "Show me," he groans. She sends him a desperate look and then slips her fingers down between her folds to do as she's told. He sees it, all red and inflamed. His mouth was on it before she could say anything. Then she's arching completely off the chaise.

Between her legs, his head shakes rapidly back and forth. She sucks a harsh breath in, he pushes her thighs further apart to lick as deeply into her as he can for a little more. She gasps when he sinks both of his thumbs into the hot little hole he had been so focused on. He parts her in hopes of tasting just a little more.

She's crying out under the changing assults he was testing against her. Loud whimpers when he discovered that he could push the hood back on her clit. He loved everything about this, he discovers. The taste, the smell, the feel and sight were all grounding him to this. She was getting loud as he slurped his mouth across hers. "Oh, baby," she cries out finally, in a hoarse whisper. "Oh, baby, please, just a... just a little more."

She was close. He paused only to gain leverage, hoisting her thighs higher and spreading her wide to drive firm licks to her clit directly. Hands jerk the hair at his scalp and he groans against her. She was rocking onto his tongue as he watched. He couldn't help it, her chest was heaving, breathing shallow and desperate. Little moans filtering into it. "Oh, fuck, please, please, I'm so close, please!"

His heart spasmed in his chest as she shot him a fierce look, one with big eyes and flushed cheeks. Lips parted. So while maintaining eye contact, he sucks hard. Her eyes lead the arch back, rolling into the back of her head as she arches off the chaise. She's so fucking loud it nearly hurts his ears, until she clamps her quaking thighs around them. His tongue finds where she's leaking, just so he can taste it again.

Until she pulls at his head, dragging his face out. "No- no more," she whimpers with glassy eyes and a wobbling lip.

"Just one more taste?" He pleads with her. She gives him the most pathetic look.

"Want... want to..." she glances between them at the bulge he's sporting.

"You want to fuck?" He questions. The smile she gives him is sinful as she nods.

"Do you want to fuck me?" She asks, he reaches up to cradle her face.

"More than I need air to breathe."

"Here or the room?" Eddie bites his lip.

"The room."

The room was nicer than he'd ever been in. There were toys that lined the walls but he could barely focus on anything other than keeping her mouth sealed against his.

Together they fall onto red sheets and he hikes her thigh up onto his as he grinds his cock into her. She's squirming below him, still sensitive from his attention downstairs.

"Pants," she grunts. He eagerly shucks them down, sighing in relief when he's no longer being crushed by denim. "Hey," she hums and he leans back to evaluate her. "Is it really your first time?"

"Yeah," he offers her and she bites her lip with a hesitation he's not sure he's reading right. "If you don't want to I under-"

"You don't have to use a condom, unless you want to." His brows raise and then he's just dragging Steve's shirt off him.

"You sure?"

"Mhmm, want you to feel it. Really feel it." Eddie groans as she grinds the wet folds of her cunt over his.

"Fuck, now?" She nods with a gentle smile and he slides his cock forward until it notches on something. Then there is resistance, just enough for him. "O-ooh, fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck, you feel good." She whines as he splits her apart slowly. He sinks to the hilt with little effort. "You feel good. So good. Fucking Goddess."

She moans below him as he draws back, just to sink into the end of her. He's already close. He can feel it. Coming with a low groan and a stuttering of his hips. She holds him to her chest stroking over his hair. It's quiet for a moment, and then his hips begin sawing back into you slowly.

He's still so hard, dragging his cock through his own spend just to watch it spill out around him. You're so expressive, he can't help but study your face while he stares. Neither of you are blinking.

"You came a lot," you murmur through your eyelashes.

"I'm not done, yet," he replies. His hands grasp at your hips before he really starts to kick it up his pace.

"UH!" You cry out, "Shit, you're big! Oh shit! Oh fuck!"

"That's it! Louder," he orders. He watches you hook your hands behind your thighs and draw your knees up by your shoulders. His hands slide over your ass to take the place of yours, pinning you more effectively as he begins to snap his hips into yours, moaning at how tight it makes your cunt.

"My pussy's so wet! Oh God! Baby! Never stop! Oh please, oh please, oh pleaseeeee! Uhh!" He felt you tightening as the obscene noises fill the room.

"You gonna cum, princess?" Your eyes snap to his and he feels the fluttering of your cunt.

"Hard," you gasp out. "Fuck me hard, please! Wanna cum on your cock! Oh gooooooood!" You scream, a heavy sob shuttering out as you tighten impossibly around him. He can't hold out through it. Your moaning and trembling are enough to have him cumming. He groans as he watches more thick spend spill out around his cock, still imbedded deep in your pussy.

"Jesus," he breathes out. You let out a shakey laugh that shoves his cock from your cunt in the prettiest of ways. "Fuuuck."

"Got another fuck in you?" You whine with a neediness that has Eddie chuckling darkly.

"Oh, honey," he hums. "Give me five minutes and you'll regret asking that." He drops down to mouth at your neck. It's vicious.

"Wanna leave sore," you pant underneath his next assalt.

"I'm going to be insatiable for you, just you wait, baby."

[princetofbone]

Goals/Resolutions

I have. Opinions. On goals and resolutions and all those fun things. One of the greatest things in life for me is completing a goal. That said, following through with the things you promise yourself is incredibly difficult- especially if you go for big goals (which is a-okay you just gotta prep right)

Note on resolutions: Please PLEASE start doing the thing a month or two before the new year. I know it sounds dumb because it's a NEW YEAR resolution, not a November resolution, but getting into the habit of (for example) going to the gym 3x per week in November, and having slip ups in November, means that when January rolls around, it isn't new and scary, and it's way less likely that you will stop doing the goal in a week.

Note for all goals: don't aim too high- like in the previous example, I said gym 3x per week. I know so many people who decided they wanted to go to the gym every day, and then missed one day, and gave up because their streak wasn't perfect. Depending on the importance to you, I might even pick a goal way lower than what you think you can do- just so you can give yourself grace if you have an off day, or if you get sick.

Onto my method!

I'm a visual person, and I also happen to enjoy decorating paper, so I make goal sheets. I typically have three at any point in time.

My quarterly goals. I'm still in high school, so I make a goal sheet for each quarter of the school year. These are going to be your most broad goals- get >85% in all my classes - or journal 2x per week. Goals that are longer term, or goals that are not incredibly difficult, but would do a lot of good for you. Try and make these goals easy/medium. For example- I hope to journal every day for this quarter because it does me quite a bit of good, however I know that there may be days where I get tired or don't have time, so I left plenty of room for error.

Monthly goals. These can be very similar to quarterly goals, so if it wouldn't help you to have both- don't. I do this, because I like to hyperofocus some months onto specific things. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this November, and so one of my monthly goals will to be writing every day. Separating this out to months is less stressful for me, because I can push through one months, but pushing through three is an awful lot.

The most important for me- Weekly goal sheets. I don't include weekends into these, and they are typically very focused on issues I'm having in that moment. I was finding myself skipping a lot of class, so a weekly goal was to go to every class I had. The weekly goal sheets allow you to focus in on issues you're having, and help push you towards achieving your quarterly/monthly goals.

The thing that allows all these sheets and rules and nonsense to work is a rewards system. As I'm making my sheets, I write in things I can do if I complete my goals. For the weekly goals, I will allow a trip to my fav tea shop, or organizing an event with friends. I try pretty hard not to make the reward buying something because that feels icky to me.

Monthly goals, I generally attatch a reward that could be read as a chore. For example, one of my goals this month is to read before bed three times a week. If I do that, I can clean out my bookshelves and get rud of books. This may not seem like a reward, but once I clean out my shelves, I'm allowed to buy more books, so it opens an opportunity. (without rewarding myself via consumerism)

Quarterly rewards are the most exciting (for me). I have a long list of things I can afford, I want, but feel like I need a special occasion to buy. this could be a tailored vest, a pen, a new notebook. Is it consumerism based reward? Yes. Does it massively decrease my purchasing bc I only by myself "for fun" things when I complete a quarterly task? Yes. It also forces me to use self control because I

1) have to wait a while to get the thing

2) If I don't do the goal, I cannot buy.

I hope something from this helped/sparked ideas, so go, be free, make some goals!

[kvntsugi]

stella

"Realistically, just because we work hybrid and got called into work today doesn't mean you should slack off too much on your attire, Yunkyoung." My face mimicked a grimacing expression that dawned on my face. Whilst I have worked with the pink-haired girl for a few years at this point, what she did was no surprise. Especially due to the fact it's only a few people (me and literally just her) in today for some unknown reason.

The sound of a pen clicking as she leaned against my cubicle, my eyes leering back towards the dual setup monitors and resuming the clacking sounds of the keyboard typing away on excel. One column over the other and comparing quarterly data, analyzing assets of certain stocks to get the best ROI for our company.

"It's not like it matters, no? We're the only ones here besides the cleaning staff. And you seem to have everything under control - I know how you been working, Oppa." Yunkyoung's sweet voice spoke out so melodicly, they were music to my ears. Feeling her soft palms on my shoulders with an eensy bit of pressure applied that formed goosebumps in my forearms.

How could someone who seemed nonchalant seem so carefree and upbeat? If she doesn't work, then how could our tasks be done for the day? She's probably different when she's conversing with others, or even doing anything else but her job. Maybe even a nepo-baby at this point but she's so deep in the company she might as well be grandfathered in. She didn't have a CTA certification either, I'd bet money on that.

Small moves going about with her thumbs being applied down, my eyes forming crescents and feeling relaxed when slumping down into my seat - the WPM on the keyboard getting slower as my fingers didn't follow along to the thoughts in my head for the work I had to be done.

But regardless - Seo Yunkyoung. She was teh daughter of the company president, and is also my 'boss.' On paper that is, but in retrospect, I think most of the team still regards me as the head and treats me with more respect than from what I've seen from chatter and other people's circles.

"Why, what's wrong?" Her voice spoke up with her hands stopped moving in conjuction. As if it were a big surprise I stopped working since there was always some efficient routine going about. If I tell her to continue what she was doing as I felt comfortable, she might just stop talking to me and not believe me with how far out the comment was.

"No… nevermind, don't worry about it." My lips tugged out from side to side with fingers picking up the pace on the tapping.

"Alright then, report every detail to me. And we are getting another new hire in the office today as well; HR told me last week in an email and I specifically recommended you for the on-hire process.

"…Okay." Speaking out casually as I tried to ignore her.

"Also!" Yunkyoung's voice rose as she smacked my shoulder, causing me to wince out in a feigned amount of pain. "Don't go around trying to seduce her because she might be young and pretty!" My body turned out in the chair and gave her a puzzling look, head tilted off to the side and lips became agape at her ridiculous request - not that I had any plans to seduce any said new-hire. But the face she thought I would have the audacity to do such a thing.

"All men like cute and young girls, so I'm warning you in advance. She gets canned immediately if that happens." Her dainty finger pointing out at me and nearing my forehead, she was asserting her position over me when I tried to roll back in my seat to get some space between the two of us.

"Yeah, yeah. Obviously, I wouldn't be doing anything. No point in risking my career." Shrugging my shoulders out at her, unsure of why she would accuse me of such a thing. I've never once in the past three years of working here have I crossed a line with anyone.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you, so watch yourself." The pink-haired girl spoke as she walked away, not having other words to speak to me about when she was nearly across the hall and into her office. My arms crossed against my chest and leaning back against the comfort of the seat to try to get an idea of why she would suddenly speak of this. I'm already too tired to think about training someone else, and it seems like it's someone she might even know if she's making disparaging comments like this.

Would she be coming in soon? Or when exactly should I be expecting a new face in the boring slums of the office?

Still, if something bad happens. Good things are bound to happen as well, or whatever uplifting phrases are the norm nowadays. As I chipped away and widdled down my research a reminiscent sound rang out. The messenger app the office used to communicate with one another.

"The part-timer is coming up now, and I've assigned her to help with your chores for the day." Yunkyoung. Nobody else would have sent someone like that. And what chores do I have, exactly?

The sound of a shuffling pair of feet came and rang in my ears as Yunkyoung gave me a wide grin when passing by my desk, our eyes gazing at each other with her orbs forming crescents that looked all too adorable and familiar. There shouldn't be too much of an introductory party thought, right? Since it was only the two of us here?

"Ahem, excuse me!!" Yunkyoung's voice rose as time seemed to go by quickly, not realizing that she might have introduced herself already to the new girl. Unsure at her actions though as it was just us two and she could have just spoken normally instead of whatever voice she was trying to capture. "Let me introduce you to Kim Yeonhee. She'll be working in our department starting today."

My eyes peered at the new girl who sported a blonde pigtail look. Her top spoke volumes with how contrasted the color was to everything else in the office. It was a breath of fresh air but if this was how her wardrobe was - it was something I had to acclimate to. Not one to complain too much though, always a big fan of change and if someone kickstarts it I'm all for it.

Standing from my seat and giving a courtesy bow and extended my hand to the foreign girl, trying to make her feel welcome with my rugged expression and attempting my best grin out in hopes she wouldn't get frightened off.

++

"She doesn't seem too bad, right?" Yunkyoung pulled me aside during our lunch break, going to the roof to enjoy a bit of the sunlight and escape the dungeon that was our workspace. I leaned back against the railing with a coffee in hand that the gracious Yeonhee grabbed for me as I wasn't too sure what else to make her do. She didn't know any of the basics; no excel, quickbooks, or any of that sort. But hey! She was pleasant on the eyes, maybe as much as our boss was. "I picked someone who's a hard worker so you could get some rest. "

The shorter girl got closer to me and dragged me by the tie to pull me in for a chaste kiss. My arms drooped down to our sides and wrapping her small frame around my grasp, keeping her in close and forgetting what I was about to say, all thoughts went out the window as our lips became one. Despite being a polar opposite of the girl I was addicted, no matter how much complaining and whining I would do. It all came down to this in the end and I have no regrets.

My motivation to work slowly declined and vanished into the air, her lips was so intoxicating. She was so… aimlessly flirty, for a girl that was an extrovert it was all but a surprise when she came to me. Or if I succumbed to her and I was twirling around her fingers. My cheekbone was getting embraced when I felt the inches lessen more between us, chest to chest with my breathing getting heavier. Running my hands up and down on her body and landed on her rear that I envisioned, it's been far too long since the last escapade I did with her. When my lips parted, her long freshly varnished nails found their way to the buttons of her shirt.

"I've noticed you checking me out, silly. Don't play dumb." She spoke with utter confidence with how it oozed out of her voice. She continued to smirk at me while undressing her shirt until the last button was undone.

My hands going up like she was an officer and I was trying not to be guilty of my crime. "My bad, and I thought I was being discreet." A toothy grin came about from me, making the girl giggle at my response. She put both of her hands to my jaw and pulled myself in for another kiss - longer this time. My eyes fluttered to a close to let the darkness envelop over me and hearing the sounds of lip-locking and having the wind be an adlib to the music that drew to my ears. The plastic cup of coffee fell to the floor beneath us and my hands found it's way towards her back, finding the clasp of her bra and un-doing it. Her bosoms weren't the biggest, but they were perfect for her stature. And in general, she was absolutely divine and sculpted so beautifully.

My hands immediately went towards her chest and cupped them from the underside, massaging them in a circular motion but both in different directions from one another, feeling her perky nipples spring against the palm of my hand as I couldn't take my eyes off her face and how it contorted when getting played with. Her nipples kept rising in time with my loving touches, tensing and becoming utterly stiff, and they were begging to get licked and sucked on.

Her hands reached to the back of my head, which I took as an open invitation. With an open mouth, feeling the insides of it begin to drool and seep out, having to gulp down a small pool of saliva that formed in the pit of my mouth and throwing my face between the peaks of her chest. They were a delight for me - and any man in general. Taking a deep breath and inhaling her scent, feeling her body and humming out gleefully at the mixture of perfume residue and sweat that built up.

My wet tongue embraced the soft and stiff nipple, making a diligent attempt to suck it off. But it was still stuck no matter how hard and long I sucked that little meat marshmallow. Letting out moans against her supple skin and feeling it reverberate out and showcasing how much I enjoyed it. Her moans were stifled out by the fact she didn't want to be all too loud. Not wanting the newcomer nor the public to hear how ratchet she could become as they were still in the eyes of the public - if one were to look up at spot them that was.

Making a trail of kisses from the middle of her chest and stopping right below her belly button. My hands following right along and hiking up her tight skirt and using a bit of elbow grease to fully cup them above her waist.

"No panties today, Yunky?" A curious brow raised up from me and slipping my dominant hand between her inner thighs and discovering the forbidden secret that now only us two know.

"Hehe, oops. Might have forgotten to put a pair on today!" Her words were feeble and ineffective, but she spoke out in such a bright, girlish voice that made her seem like a naive, innocent girl. This sort of acting made me fall more her and just shrugging my body in a non-caring manner.

Taking a glance down between her thick thighs and noticing the girl was sporting a beautiful and clean-shaven pussy. Her lower lips were small and thin but still distinct enough to realize that it was her curved shape. How healthy and pink it was and… well soaked? After a caring caressing of her bosoms. Everything was easily spotted enough and picking out apart from one another.

Yunkyoung was my own oasis. Maybe my personal one with how things were being drawn out. Dipping my head in deeper down and slurped up more of the pink-haired girl's sweet juices - as much as I could. Playing with her clit and flaps with my decadent tongue. My wet muscle was doing a fabulous job (or so I thought, with how many moans she slipped out and grabbed onto my hair.) Her pussy tasted to divine, so heavenly and never wanting to leave, but I was on a limit. Lunch time was almost over and we couldn't spend the full allotted time doing this when there was a newbie on the insides. It was too unfortunate that he couldn't fill her insides with white, but there should be another time when they handle the rest of this.

Making small kisses on the innards of her thighs and sliding my tongue against her skin. SMall purple marks on her white skin to let her know who was just there. Maybe even Yeonhee could spot it if she was diligent enough to notice any differences.

"Why -- why'd you stop?" Yunky's voice got so whiny as I pulled my body up, my legs felt wobbly from standing on my heels for the past half hour and needing to get the blood pumping in them again before they slept on themselves.

"Yeonhee's gonna start searching the office and realize we left and came back together if she's smart enough." Rolling the cuffs on my sleeves up and wiping any lingering liquids on my mouth before gazing down at her. Seeing what a disheveled mess she was and buttoning up her blouse one by one, making sure to leave her bra behind as a treat for me when we get back to the daily tasks at hand.

"Besides, knowing you, you might need some time to doll yourself up again so I might just head back down first so it doesn't look too suspicious to her." My body slumped down to grab the littered cup of coffee that was previously on the floor, walking on over to the trash bin, and turning around to spot the girl one final time in her state. Seeing how she was looking at herself in the camera on her phone she had those worries to think about now before finally heading back over to my desk.

Stepping back into the fray of things and seeing Yeonhee diligently work on her tasks I gave out to her before the break, seeing how she might have just ignored her lunch in itself to try to get an inkling better at the job.

"Alright, Yeonhee." Making sure my voice was loud and clear as I stood above her cubicle. Just thinking about this got my head hurting already and I can't seem to communicate properly. My hand going up to my forehead to try to wane off any of the pain. Yunkyoung did mention that she picked up a hard worker to help with my work. All Yeonhee has to do is work hard.

"So what do you know how to do? You don't know any of the basic office programs on your computer, you can't make paper copies…" With each thing I listed out, she shook her head, hands on her lap with her pleading eyes looking up at me. Why did Yunky choose her - or the company in general? Surely this isn't another case of some family problem going on…

"Wow… this is why young children -"

"You're saying boomer stuff now." My head whipped over to the girl with a shocked expression, eyes widening at her words with her hands covering up her lips. "Oops."

[palfriendpatine66]

prompt: "I miss seeing myself in the mirror being marked by you"

Here's a little drabble - Obi-Wan is away at a work conference “I miss you,” Anakin’s voice came through the phone speaker forlornly. Obi-Wan didn’t need to see his face to know he was pouting. 

“Yes I’d gathered that from the seventeen texts, three missed calls, and five photos,” Obi-Wan smiled at his reflection in the hotel vanity as he undressed from a long day. 

There would have been a time in his life that he found such enthusiasm a bit…smothering. But he had to admit that he had smiled with each notification, that he had thought of his lover just as often, in between the mind numbing talk of quarterly statistics and five year plans that filled his day. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whined. “I’ve been waiting all day to tell me you missed me too.” 

“I missed you too,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin complained, his annoyed huff telling him that wasn’t going to cut it. 

“I missed you every minute I had to listen to presenters talk about briefs and remember that I was wearing yours underneath my suit.” He met his own eyes with a dark smirk at the sharp inhale on the other line as he loosened his tie with one hand. “Some fiend snuck into my luggage and removed all of mine. Replaced it with yours - can you imagine that?” 

“What else?” Anakin rasped a throaty demand. “Tell me what else you missed.”

“Greedy.” 

“Yes.” 

Obi-Wan’s grin widened. “I missed waking up to you already hard, rocking up against me like the insatiable menace that you are.” 

“What do you think I did with that underwear this morning?” Anakin questioned darkly. 

Obi-Wan clucked his tongue and shook his head in mock surprise. “I hope you cleaned up after yourself.” 

“No.” 

He could picture the shit eating grin now. “Naughty,” he chided, his face stretched wide with his own in answer. 

“Yes. For you, always,” Anakin promised. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m away.” He frowned at the thought as he shifted to hold his phone to his ear with his shoulder so that he could undo the line of buttons down his shirt. 

“Not if you tell me what else you missed.” 

Obi-Wan sighed as if it were a hardship. He shrugged out of his shirt and eyed the pale, freckled skin of his shoulders, the even tone of his chest underneath his graying chest hair. He was unaccustomed to seeing his torso without the bruises Anakin sucked into his skin, the red trail of his nails that dug into his back, his hips, his ass - anywhere really - to urge him on. 

“I miss seeing myself in the mirror being marked by you,” he admitted, as he turned his way and that. Not a bite in sight. “It’s been too long, even your parting gift has faded.” Anakin had sunk his teeth into his shoulder as he came, eyes gleaming as he fiercely declared mine. 

“I’ll fix that as soon as you get back,” Anakin growled.  “Repeat performance in the parking garage and all.” 

“I look forward to it, baby. Maybe a more secluded corner this time though, hmm?” 

“That’s half the fun,” Anakin complained. 


“For you maybe.” Obi-Wan sighed as he shed the last of his work attire. “Only two more days.” The conference wouldn’t be over soon enough. 

“Hey Obi-Wan?” Anakin dropped the teasing tone, now soft and sweet. Genuine. 

“Yes my love?” 

“I really do miss you.” 

“I miss you too, darling,” he softened in response. “I don’t need your marks to remind me who my heart belongs to.” 

“Good.” It was missing the possessive edge he expected to hear, the bravado gone, what was left behind small and sad.

“Anakin.” 

“Mmm?” 

“I love you,” he reassured. “I can’t wait to come home to you.” 

“I know. I love you too.”

[ahedderick]

Morning Forest

First chore this morning was to take Lady up in the woods for a little Dog Time. Chance did not want to come. Marilla did, and spent her forest enrichment time running up trees to shoulder height, bristling her fur, and coming back down again. As I walked past the barn I decided to turn Hero and Nutmeg out into the field above the barn, just for fun. They weren't really hungry, though, so they just wandered up into the woods with me. The leaves are more interesting, there.

At this time of year being in the forest is nearly like being underwater. The light is dim and green-tinted, with occasional dapples of sunlight. Fish and birds are remarkable similar, with their three-dimensional movement above you as they look for food or defend their territory. Not too many horses wandering around underwater, I'll admit.

Hero tasted a variety of leaves in the manner of someone who isn't hungry, but willing to sample some new treats. Then he came over to just stand quietly with me. Nutmeg rammed her horns into the back of my leg, her version of asking to be petted. Asking 'nicely' is NOT of any interest to her. We all watched Lady trying to dig under a fallen log (rodents!!), Marilla clawing the heck out of every tree, and the dappled, green light.

Back at the barn I put a fly mask on Hero's face. Even with two fly traps by the barn, fly-protection in his food that keeps them from breeding in his manure, and expensive fly spray for his fur that really doesn't work anymore, there are still clouds of the damned things. The mesh mask keeps them from bothering his face and ears for the day. Probably also serves as 'sunglasses'.

The time I spent trying to sort out quarterly estimated taxes and cleaning was not nearly so pleasant. Now it's time to get out the paints and have another session with the college painting. I've been sticking to an every-other-day schedule, and it's good to see incremental progress. Yet another situation where I have to actually Do the Work to see the benefits. Unfair!!

[mod2amaryllis]

hi mod! you are the person i know who knows and is most excited about fish, and my favorite way to learn is to ask people whose passion and delight i am already familiar with. i know this is stuff i could find digging around on yt or search engines but it is just less fun and often less informative. but ofc feel free not to answer if you don't have the time/energy etc!

i am coming to realize that i would really like fish (after attempting to convince my wife that he would like them and then they pointed out that it kind of sounded like *i* wanted the fish and well). but i am very chronically ill (spend most of my time laying down in bed) and also poor. i'm worried about not being able to take care of them well enough.

assuming i restrain myself (that is don't deep dive into habitat design or breeding or anything beyond just having some guys to spend time with while i'm stuck in bed) what are the daily, weekly, monthly things i'd have to make sure got taken care of? are there ways i can simplify or automate tasks while not sacrificing their care?

OR do you know of good places where people have already talked about this, or other people who love fish a lot and might wanna share their knowledge?

my partner is also suggesting a plant&snail tank instead of fish but i'm even less sure how to approach their care needs!

watching you get into fish reminded me of how much i love them (had some when i was young but was not primary caretaker). it's good to see you make creatures so happy.

well thank you for reading and i hope you are having a good weekend!

ahhh weeee haha fish ask fish ask

there's definitely ways to make mega low maintenance tanks! what you're going for is overfiltering, understocking, and planting as much as possible. I'll go over those points. this got mega long so i'll put it under a cut.

overfiltering basically means bumping your filter up a size. if you have a 10g tank, get a 20g filter. this will reduce how often you need to maintain that filter. I'd recommend sponge filters, they're by far the cheapest option and imo easiest to maintain. you'll need the sponge and an air pump. i see a lot of mega reduced amazon sales for the tetra whisper air pump. depending on how dirty it gets you're looking at every 2-3 months taking it out into a bucket of clean tank water and squeezing out the gunk.

in that vein, you wanna get as big a tank as you can. seems counterintuitive, but the more water you have, the more stability. the less maintenance. so if you wanted a 5g for a betta, consider getting a 10g. if you want a little 10g nano school, get a 20g long. if you want a 20g community, get a 40g breeder. whatever's gonna fit in your space. my best recommendation for tank size is 20g long, it gives you sooo many options without being massive. if you're in America the cheapest way to get a tank is wait for Petco to have their quarterly tank sale. otherwise look for something on the local market.

now onto understocking. basically pick animals that aren't gonna shit that much lol, and put in less than can technically fit in the tank. the snail tank is a definite fun option, as long as you're sticking with pest snails and fewer large snails (big snails have a big bioload, even bigger than most fish). a planted 10g with a variety of big snails (a mystery, a rabbit, a nerite, etc), pest snails, and a few amano shrimp, would be fun and extremely low maintenance. you'd even have the option of trying some fancy shrimp, tho they might breed like crazy. if you want a tank with fish instead, i recommend getting a school of a tiny species like chili rasbora, ember tetras, pygmy corys, basically anything that stays little so you can get as many as possible without a big bioload. for schooling/shoaling fish, the more the merrier. absolutely do not get live bearers. no guppies, no mollies, no platys. that's the opposite of low maintenance. shit machines that will multiply forever, don't do it.

now. you know i love my bettas, favorite fish, but i'm always hesitant to recommend them. they're wonderfully personable but the caveat is that it seems more and more they run into health problems as they get commercially overbred. it's luck of the draw. you might get an easy buddy who can survive anything, or you'll get a sicky. most of the time my bettas are super low maintenance and rewarding, but when they ARE sick, it's hard. it can be daily water changes and treatment for weeks, and sometimes even that doesn't help in the end.

so with that said, my dream low maintenance tank stocking would be 20g long with 4 amano shrimp, 1 mystery snail, 1 rabbit snail, 1 nerite snail, and a school of around 15 nano fish (I'd do either chili rasbora or celestial pearl danio cuz they prettyyy). OR i'd just have a centerpiece in that big old tank, like 1 betta for the whole tank or a pair of sparkling gouramis. fish choice is definitely too much to get into for this post lol.

now third point, planting the crap out of it. this is where things can get expensive. i really do recommend investing in this step at setup, but try to cut costs by buying from local sellers, or even seeing if people are giving cuttings away. the lowest maintenance plants are ones that don't require trimming, like crypts, buce, anubias; these plants are gorgeous but they don't filter water that well. faster growing stem plants and floaters will REALLY help to filter the water, but require more maintenance via trimming and replanting stems (monthly) or removing overgrown floaters (weekly). hornwort and guppy grass are great options for something fast growing that you can just chuck in a tank, no need to plant. what I'd most highly recommend for the sake of lowering maintenance is adding some pothos cuttings coming out of the water. terrestrial plants are much better at filtering water than aquatic plants because of their direct co2 exposure, and I've had the most success with pothos! i also love a spider plant in water.

some other money specific points. for substrate, you can use rinsed play sand and/or pea gravel from a hardware store, but you would need to add nutrients if you have things planted into the substrate. you can add root tabs (api root tabs cost about 8 bucks a pack, but you need to replenish them every few months) or a small layer of aquasoil at the bottom. (aqueon has a little bag of shrimp/plant soil on amazon for i think 12 bucks). and the one thing you shouldn't go cheap on is the heater. their failure is more dangerous than other hardware because they tend to fail ON, aka they cook the water. you wanna make sure you trust it. the cheapest heater i trust are the aqueon preset submersible heaters, also frequently on sale. or you can forgo the heater and commit to only "cold" temperature livestock; the snails and amano shrimp idea would be fine w/o a heater.

labor specific points, once it's cycled (which can take weeks, during which time you'll do literally nothing to the tank) and stocked, it'll depend on how fast those plants eat up your nitrates on how often you do water changes. for me, i do 25% every two weeks on my 20g. it could probably stand to have more since mine is pretty overstocked but fish are ok to sit in slightly higher nitrates as long as they're used to it. when testing, i do recommend the api master test kit. it's more expensive than strips but way more accurate and it's lasted me longer than 2 tubes of strips. if you don't want to buy the test kit, just do water changes as often as you can. every 2 weeks if possible, then you can try pushing to 3 weeks, or even monthly.

get a water siphon to make it as easy as possible. empty water into a bucket on wheels so nobody has to carry anything. you can also look into getting a submersible pump with a long enough tube that you can empty water directly into the nearest drain, then to refill with clean water put a bucket in the sink with tap water, put the submersible pump in that bucket, and run the tube back to your tank, adding dechlorinator directly to the tank beforehand. just be careful with this method if you have small animals at risk of being caught in the siphon.

also, some people with planted tanks don't do water changes AT ALL. they just top off as water evaporates. what i do some would consider overkill, but i'm so frequent with my water changes because i have really hard water and there's this thing called old tank syndrome that can happen if you only top off, and yeah that's this other whole spiel lmao BUT not doing water changes IS possible, people have success. just not me!

so monthly tasks; rinsing sponge filter every 2-3 months. weekly tasks; depends on how often you decide to do water changes. daily tasks; feeding, frequency varies depending on livestock, but i basically feed once a day. if you're going for a self contained ecosystem low maintenance dealio, feed as little as possible. i know of people who do this and sprinkle in food weekly or less. i don't have experience with automatic feeders, but i'm wary of them lol, they could be totally fine, idk. it's better imo to just feed infrequently than risk the auto feeder dumping too much food.

to wrap it up, i'll be real with you, setting up something that's as low maintenance as possible while working with budget constraints is hard (at least in my area). this hobby is notoriously expensive, especially when you're just starting out. you need to see what the local market is like. see if there's fish hobby groups in your area that can help you with spare supplies and plant trimmings. your partner's idea of a plant/snail tank might be the best place to start! as far as other resources, the fish subreddits have soooooooooooo much info.

[professorhawthorne]

An update and RUMBLE WEEKEND!!

Hey everyone!

Its been a long time since I've posted to this blog but that's because I've been buisy getting life stuff sorted! My post-grad work is chugging along, I got a new job in my field and I'm learning to drive about 10 years late! But I've been playing a ton of pokemon in the mean time! I've got some full odds hunts in generations 3 and 4 on the go to get some fun playthroughs in before bank shuts down (Maybe in April?).

Fig 1. Full odds hunts for Spheal/Snorunt in RSE and Chimchar in platinum!

My luck with full odds hunting has been atrocious until the day of writing this post though. I've put the gen 3 hunt on hold because I was overcome with an urge to play Platinum again and do some pokeradar chaining so I expanded out to 3 consoles and took up soft resetting for Wimpod on the side in Sun.

Fig 2. Triple hunting Chimchar (My resets for Wimpod were done on the black and blue 2DSXL in the pile) ((I also cleaned up my desk finally, feels good))

Unfortunately I passed odds on Wimpod and a soft reset caused my 2DS to freak out and delete the entire game install, fortunately I was juuust in the time window to redownload it from the eShop so I'll pick it back up again some day! Until then though, the hunt for Chimchar continues.

I've also been slowly building up a collection of retro junk that's fun to tinker with! Meet my new CRT and VHS setup! (I'll get a tv unit for it the second I find an era appropriate one!)

Fig 3. He just wants his swamp back

While we're on the topic of retro tech, let me tell you about my favorite latest project! My roomie had a spare wii that he didn't want so I took it, soft-modded it and dressed it up in a pretty see through shell!

Fig 4. A top down view of the console and its first stickers!

Fig 5. A side on view of the transparent shell

I've been using this puppy to catch up on all of the gamecube and wii games I've missed, mostly Colosseum, Gale of Darkness and Resident Evil stuff! However there is one other thing I've been loving~ Pokemon Rumble and its fan mod, Weekend Edition! The mod adds in gen 2 and 3 pokemon that were missing from the base game and there's even a roughly quarterly shiny hunting event called Rumble Weekend where you only hunt in Rumble! The odds are roughly the same as the gen 3 and 4 games (1/8192) but the encounters fly by so fast that shinies feel relatively common.

I participated for the first time this weekend and after only an hour or so of playing I had my first two Rumble Weekend shinies!!

Fig 6. My first Rumble shiny!! A beautiful, healthy Manectric

Fig 7. My second Rumble shiny! A lovely Ourple Swampert!

I wanna try and play more next Rumble weekend but I'm so happy to finally break my shiny drought with two gen 3 gems!! I plan on posting more now that I'm transitioning to a new job with a much less chaotic schedule, see y'all around! <3

[jamiesfootball]

jamie could have the eliot scene where he tries to go talk to his dad and his dad doesn't answer, and it could be like james just got out of prison and jamie wants to go see if they can Fix Things between them now that jamie's life at least isn't so violent anymore and maybe he can help james get on track on the outside so he won't end up back in and and and

and james doesn't answer because he blames jamie for him getting caught in the first place, and jamie tells him about hacking through the door, and he doesn't answer that either but he throws something at the door and jamie flinches back all the way off the porch. and then he just goes home.

and roy's like how did it go? and jamie says it went the best it could have.

Eeeeeeeeeeee ok ok ok but. but. Here's the thing. Jamie's dad is very Nate's-dad-coded to me. So in my mind I had it going more along the lines of The Three-Card Monte job.

Like this:

Even from the street Roy could hear the laughter spilling out of the Crown and Anchor, and after a long day of reconnaissance it called like a reward in waiting.

Roy didn't mind doing legwork for a con- in fact he appreciated Ted's insistence that the team dot their t's and mind their p's and whatever else he wanted them to inflict on the rest of the alphabet. Better prep made for a safer job. Roy had worked for enough men who'd sacrifice the time upfront if it meant getting to the next score faster; he respected that Ted wasn't one of them.

As their feet sloshed through the snow, Jamie kept a running commentary on the dirt he'd dug up in the breakroom. While he'd waited for his crawlers to skim the server (which to hear him tell it, was so laughably out of date that buying something on the company's Wi-Fi ran a bigger risk than riding passenger in Colin's Fiat), he'd learned from Jeanine who'd heard from Alan that Erik-with-a-'k' Davies was the one who'd decided to pass on Jim-from-R&D's project proposal after quarterlies came in low.

Thank fuck Roy'd never had a real job. He didn't know how people put up with it. He'd rather stab his eyes out than pretend to care about breakroom gossip.

But that wouldn't stop him from doing his job. He dutifully noted all the names - Jeanine, Alan, Jim, Erik-with-a-'k' - knowing that even the smallest details could mean the difference between making a cover or blowing the con.

"Can't believe I had to use a photocopier to make copies of the building schematics," Jamie complained for the umpteenth time. He stood back to let Roy open the door for him, despite the fact that it was Roy who was carrying his duffel full of tech. "In this day and age, a company worth billions should really consider digitizing-"

Six things happened at once. Years of experience gave Roy the particular skill to parse the components of a situation in order of importance.

The most concerning, the domino that set the rest in motion, was how Jamie's body froze, a fear response where he'd been at ease a second ago.

Instinct had Roy stepping in front of him, an arm slung protectively over his chest to hide, block, or push him away, whatever was called for.

His eyes hit all the exits: no one blocking the kitchen or alley, and the door behind them remained clear.

Identify the people of interest in the room, the other potential targets he might need to shield: Keeley and Rebecca at the bar, their heads thrown back in laughter. Colin, pleasantly bored or bored-ly pleasant, pouring out a lager for an older bloke.

Assess the older bloke; the only other other person sitting at the bar. Grey slicked back hair and a receding hairline. Steel-toed boots, worn through and poorly kept, so not an actual laborer. Clean, new denim and a mass market coat. An unspoiled duffel bag on the seat next to him. Fresh out of prison, then.

Either hearing the door swing open or feeling the cold breeze that gusted in behind them, the older man turned to look over his shoulder. Head-on he seemed younger than lines on his face implied, and his cheeks flushed ruddy with drink. He grinned (Manchester dental work), and under the guard of Roy's arm, Jamie flinched.

"Well, well, well. Look who's decided to show himself." The old bloke chuckled; it didn't reach his eyes. "If it ain't my own flesh and blood."