#the traffic light system is the one i've always used

[bahablastplz]

Make it hurt: Seungmin x Reader x Jeongin

Your best friend is a menace. A stupid, kinky menace that drags you along to a BDSM event with her when your curiosity gets the best of you. What will happen when a strangely attractive man asks you if you want to do your first scene with him and his friend? Content: smut smut smut smut smut Warnings: Talks of BDSM, use of ‘sir,’ traffic light system, dom/sub dynamics (dom Seungmin, dom Jeongin, sub reader), sensory deprivation, sensory play, fingering, choking, spanking (with a paddle), hair pulling, p in v sex, protected sex, edging, slight overstimulation, little bit of praise, little bit of degradation if you squint, lots of aftercare WC: 5900 (this is the longest smut I've ever written byeee)

Your friend is a menace. Well, that is a given. You’ve always known Lily, your best friend and roommate, to be somewhat unhinged. But now, given the circumstances you’re currently in… it was more apparent than usual. 

She was involved in the BDSM community. It was something that she had started getting involved in with her boyfriend and so you were privy to hearing about some of her more… intimate experiences. She talked about what it was like being a submissive in a relationship, relinquishing any and all control to that of her dominant, coupled with sensory play, pain play, you name it. 

When you expressed some interest in learning more about the BDSM community she was thrilled. 

Let’s just say some of your past sexual experiences were… vanilla, for lack of a better term. While you’ve encouraged some of your previous partners to take charge or to be a little bit rougher in the bedroom, they would indulge but they never truly seemed into it. The one time a hookup agreed to choke you, however, you came harder than you ever had in your life. 

When you told this to Lily, she told you that you just had to come to an event with her and her boyfriend. You weren’t too sure how you felt about this at first. Wouldn’t you just be third wheeling? She assured you that these BDSM events were a safespace for everybody of all experience levels to enjoy kink and that you would be fine to go off on your own if you needed to. 

That’s how you ended up here. Just as you predicted, Lily and her boyfriend disappear the second you enter the venue, leaving you alone. Upon entry, you are given a pink wristband to show others that you’re new to the BDSM community and ‘open to learning more.’ You also pick out pins to display on your shirt, so you choose one that that says ‘submissive,’ and ‘pain slut.’ The latter you had grabbed just because you thought it was funny, but hey, if you’re here to learn more about kink then that’s what you’re going to do. 

The event has a lot of different seminars to sit in on as well as vendors that sell a variety of sex toys or items for BDSM. You look at some of the silk ties and ropes they have for bondage and rope play, body-safe wax for temperature play, paddles and floggers for impact play, and even some lubes and sex toys that you have never seen before. You don’t buy anything, but you grab a lot of flyers and giveaway items that you put in a small bag to take home with you. 

You also attend a seminar about kink for beginners and what green flags to look for in a dom/sub. Overall it is a very education-filled evening and you find yourself a little intimidated but also a little aroused. You know for sure by the end of the evening that this community is something that you want to continue to explore. 

Sitting down at a table by yourself, you let out a loud sigh. You riffle through some of your pamphlets and check your phone to see if Lily texted you. "We're going to set up a scene in one of the play rooms!! Talk to you later! Xoxo.” She sent that text message 15 minutes ago, which means you would probably be stuck here a while longer. You let out a loud sigh again. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” You look up and your heart skips a beat when you see one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

He has shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, shaggy but perfectly placed as it frames the front of his face. You notice his plump pink lips and sculpted face before you meet his dark eyes that give him an appearance not unlike that of a fox. Beautiful. 

You realize that you haven’t responded to the man before you shake the thoughts out of your head and give him a smile. 

“Yes! I mean, no no, it’s not taken. Feel free to sit!” You laugh at your own awkwardness and gesture to the chair to your left. Scanning over the man’s frame once again, you notice he’s wearing a denim coat over a nice white dress-shirt. He also has a pin on that says ‘dominant.’ Interesting. 

“Are you okay?” He questions, tilting his head to the side inquisitively after sitting down. 

“Huh?” 

“Oh, I was just curious if you’re okay. I noticed that you were sitting alone and you were sighing, so I just wanted to make sure–” 

“Oh! That’s so sweet of you! My friend kind of dragged me along with her when I told her that I was interested but um… yeah, she kind of ditched me as soon as we got here.” You run a hand through your hair and let out a breath that you had been holding. “I mean, I’m having a good time and all! But I just didn’t want my first time here to be alone, you know?” 

“I’m sorry your friend ditched you,” he says sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, it’s my first time here, too!” He holds up his wrist to show you a matching pink wristband. The action makes you smile. 

“Are you here alone?” You question. “I’m just curious, you know, if this is something that a lot of beginners usually attend by themselves or if most people come here with a friend.” 

“Oh no no,” he laughs. You think that his smile is cute and you can’t help it when you feel yourself warm up and get more comfortable just by his presence. “I’m here with my friend. He is a lot more experienced in being a dom, he’s been involved in the community for a few years and he told me he would show me around,” he explains. 

“I see! Are you… Do you like it so far?” You try not to get shy, but to be fair this man is so unbelievably attractive. 

“I do! It’s very educational. I can see myself trying to get more involved, hopefully. What about you? You’re not uncomfortable, are you? I know it must be a lot to be here by yourself since your friend left you here.” You think it’s so sweet that this guy is checking in on you so thoroughly. 

“Oh, I’m fine!” You say with a big grin. “It’s been so cool so far! I definitely think I want to get more involved too. While it’s a little intimidating… it’s like… it makes me want to try it, you know? I definitely don’t want to go back to plain old vanilla sex after this, I think.” He laughs with you in understanding. 

“My name’s Jeongin, by the way,” he says. “You are…” 

“Y/N,” you provide. 

He repeats your name, committing it to memory. “Listen, I know we’re both new at this, so don’t feel pressured at all… but would you be interested in setting up a scene with me and my friend? His name is Seungmin, he’ll be here in a few minutes if you’d like to meet him. But, he told me he would be there for my first scene, to walk me through it and make sure that everything goes right… And I don’t know if that would make you more comfortable for your first time to also have someone that is experienced… Shit, I don’t even know if you’re interested at all, and it doesn’t even have to happen right away or anything, and, um, he would be better at explaining it, but we could talk about boundaries and–” 

“It’s okay, Jeongin,” you say. “I think I’m interested, actually.” He seems to perk up, as if surprised at your words. “Really?” 

“Yeah! I think so. I’m a little nervous, admittedly. But… Do you think I could meet your friend first? Maybe if we talk it over a little more, I’ll feel better.” 

“Of course!” He smiles, pulling out his phone. “He’ll be here in one minute.” 

You don’t know why you’re surprised, but his friend Seungmin is also ridiculously attractive. He has long black hair, slightly shorter than Jeongin’s that falls around chin-length. He has bright eyes and a wide smile, almost innocently so, and he doesn’t strike you right away as someone that is an experienced dom that has been in the community for a while. He’s clear and concise when he speaks, though, setting clear boundaries with a politeness that makes you want to trust him implicitly. 

The three of you talk for almost thirty minutes, surprisingly. Seungmin provides you and Jeongin with little kink surveys, which you think is almost endearing, but it helps you determine your sexual compatibility and any hard limits you have for the scene. He also talks you through protection, safewords, and the traffic light system, which you all determine will be your preferred method of communicating any hard or soft limits for the night.

You even spill the fact that you’ve been completely dissatisfied with previous partners, none of them pleasing you sexually and allowing you to completely let go the way you’ve been wanting. They nod along and you feel very comfortable sharing your experiences with them which you think is probably a green flag.

“Am I going to be having sex with the both of you?” You ask. You let out a nervous chuckle with the question, avoiding eye contact slightly but not trying to appear uncomfortable or shy about the topic. 

“Do you want to?” Seungmin asks, turning the question back to you. “You need to let us know whatever you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

“I think I want to.” 

“Well, consent can be revoked at any point. If you decide you want to now but change your mind during the scene, that’s fine! You just need to communicate with us,” he explains. “Because this is your first scene, you should know that we don’t even have to have sex at all. Not all scenes have to involve sex. There’s plenty of other ways for everyone to have pleasure.” Something about the way he talks like he knows exactly what he’s talking about, so educated on the topic but also cautious to establish boundaries and make the whole process safe is so attractive to you. You hide a blush and look him in the eyes this time. 

“I understand that we don’t have to. But… if you both are okay with it, I think I would like sex to be a part of the scene. Definitely with Jeongin,” you say. “But also with you, Seungmin, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

“You’re doing a great job using your words!” He praises. This time you don’t conceal your blush. He takes note of that. “I think we’re pretty much set for now. Let us know if you have any questions!”

And with that, you set up a time and a place for the scene and exchange contact information before you all part ways. You find yourself exhilarated that this has just happened, but mostly you’re giddy. You’re going to do a scene. And with everything you talked about and communicated that you’re looking for, you have a feeling that it definitely won’t be a boring sexual experience. 

When Lily and her boyfriend finally find you upstairs you’re more than ready to go home. She wants to grill you about everything that happened, but seeing as you’re a little annoyed that she left you to your own devices you decide not to tell her everything right away. You at least wait until you get home to let her know that you actually found a dominant that was interested in setting up a scene with you. 

Before she can get the chance to lecture you about being safe, you explain to her about all of the boundaries and safe words that you set. You’re not sure how much detail you want to get into about it, but you at least promise to share your location with her during the scene so she can keep an eye on you for peace of mind. 

The scene would take place in one week. Next Saturday. 

In the meantime, you communicate somewhat frequently with Jeongin and Seungmin in a shared group chat. Seungmin shares articles for both you and Jeongin to read up on, and occasionally you would ask a few questions. 

Saturday comes by faster than you know it. 

Y/N: Should I wear anything special? 

Seungmin: Innie says to wear something pink. And bring a change of clothes, something comfortable. 

Seungmin: Don’t be late. 

God, there are butterflies in your stomach. Is that the right terminology for this anxious yet giddy anticipatory feeling building up? You’re not sure, but when you knock on the door to Seungmin’s front door at 6:03 p.m., the feeling rises up again and again. 

He leads you to his bedroom, where Jeongin is sitting on the bed. You sit in a gaming chair that accompanies a desk in the corner of his room, turning back and forth. 

“Jeongin,” Seungmin says. “Do you remember the checklist?” 

“Yeah,” he says to his friend. He turns to you. “How are you feeling today? Any hesitation on your end?” 

“Nope,” you reply. “A little nervous, but excited.” 

“Great. Remember our safe word?” 

“Yeah! Traffic light system. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for ‘God, yes, keep going.’” 

“Amazing. So, Seungmin and I are going to go through and show you some of what we had planned for today, just to get you familiar with some of our toys and what not. As we talked about last week, we’re looking to do some pain/impact play, and maybe some sensory play. We’re okay with edging and overstimulation. You were interested in potentially having protected sex with penetration, maybe with both of us. If you feel uncomfortable at any time or want to stop, please let us know. Does that sound good?” You nod your head and smile sweetly. 

“Words,” Jeongin and Seungmin both say at the same time. You let out a light chuckle at the action. 

“Yes. Yes, that sounds good, thank you,” you answer. 

Jeongin shoots Seungmin a look. “Did I miss anything?” 

“Nope, you covered it all! You’re off to a great start. I did want to point out that your friend was three minutes late, however, when I explicitly instructed her to be on time. Now, I want you to be in charge of this scene, since it’s your first time, but that would definitely warrant a punishment if it were me.” You blanch at his words. You didn’t think that being late by three minutes would cause an issue but the promise of a punishment has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. 

“Oh?” Jeongin says, shooting you a sinister grin. “Look at her rubbing her thighs together, she’s already wanting to be touched. I bet she did it on purpose, hmm? Did you come here late on purpose so you could get punished?” He stalks across the room to where you’re sat, tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. His gaze is dark yet firm, and you almost find it unbelievable that this is his first scene. Already you’re finding yourself willing to submit, to follow his every command and to please him. 

“No,” you stutter. “Sorry, was an accident.” You don’t break eye contact but your face heats up rapidly. 

“Do you remember what you said you wanted to call me tonight? You didn’t forget, right?” 

“No… no, sir. Sorry,” you say. The both of you shudder at the term. You can tell it has the desired effect on Jeongin, who grips your chin tighter before letting you go, causing your head to fall down from lack of support. 

“On the bed,” he instructs. “Take off your shirt and your pants and wait for Seungmin and I to get our materials ready. If you’re wearing a bra and underwear, keep them on.” 

You nod your head at him before standing up then remember to use your words. “Yes, sir.” 

“Color?” He asks. His face softens for a second and you let out a shaky breath. 

“Green.” 

Seungmin reaches to the top of his dresser and pulls out a long box. He walks you through various items, showing you paddles and floggers, restraints, and vibrators and dildos and other various sex toys. It’s reminiscent of the BDSM event you went to the other day, you think, as he explains each item and its purpose. Eventually he pulls out a red silk blindfold and instructs Jeongin to put it on you. You feel your body start to buzz in anticipation, already excited for what is to come as his long, delicate fingers wrap the blindfold around your head. 

“Cross your hands and put them above your head. Keep them there or I’ll tie them.” 

You let out a breathy sigh. “Yes sir,” you say, and it’s barely a whisper. 

“Jeongin, I’m going to let you take the lead here. Let me know if you have any questions,” Seungmin says. It feels like you are waiting forever, and you know your breathing speeds up when you hear someone rustling through the box. When the bed dips next to you you find yourself pressing your thighs together to get some pressure and relieve some of the tension. The feeling of Jeongin’s hands on your thigh startles you, and he kneads the flesh gently, urging you to spread your legs for him. You do so immediately. 

Something soft prickles at your skin and your breath hitches. What you can only assume is a feather starts at your chest, barely touching your skin but drawing light lines. You feel hot already from the small actions, breathing when the feather draws circles on your neck. Even more so, you have to stop yourself from pressing your thighs back together when he barely touches your nipples over the fabric of your bralette. 

“Oh,” you say. “That feels good.” 

“Yeah?” Jeongin breathes, the ghost of a smirk evident in his voice. He sounds almost as wrecked as you do and that makes you smile. 

You aren’t expecting it when he grazes your clit. You think it’s with his finger, as you can still feel the feather circling your nipple, but the action makes you whimper. 

“I’m going to finger this pretty pussy,” he says. “What’s your color?” 

“Green,” you answer. “So green.” His fingers slip into the waistband of your panties, lingering for a second and teasing you until you lift your hips, allowing him to remove the fabric from your body. 

One finger dips shallowly into your entrance, gathering just a little bit of your wetness. 

“You’re soaked,” he comments. “And I’ve barely touched you.” You nod your head at him in agreement, because you know it’s true. You’re unsure if you’ve ever been this aroused in your life. 

Using your arousal coating his finger, he works small circles outside of your clit, occasionally grazing it. Each time he does your breath catches in your throat, and if you could see him you would know he has a shit-eating grin on his face, working you up so easily from teasing you. 

You barely register when another body dips into the bed next to you, though Seungmin helps raise your body into a sitting position. He grabs your arms and guides them behind your back, leaning you up against him. 

“I’m gonna take this off,” he whispers, fingers sliding underneath your bralette. “You did such a good job wearing pink for us, just like we asked. You’ll just do anything we tell you, won’t you? You’ll be a good girl for us and listen to what we say?” He lifts the bralette over your head, discarding it. 

You feel his breath on your neck, warm. You nod and tilt your head back, leaning yourself completely into the man. 

A hand wraps expertly around your exposed throat. You feel it, finger by finger curling around and pressing into your skin. It’s at this moment that Jeongin decides to thrust a finger into you, hitting deep inside. You let out a cry at both actions, sounding utterly debauched. 

“This will be your last reminder to answer us when spoken to,” Seungmin says, fingers wrapping tighter around your throat. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes… fuck, yes sir.” 

His hand remains unmoving, keeping you in place as Jeongin stimulates you. You notice that he’s not even thrusting his finger, but rhythmically curling it inside you. You try to rock your hips into him to get more stimulation but you're kept in place by the man behind you. 

“M close,” you warn. A series of whimpers and moans leave your mouth, sounds that you’re sure your body has never made before. You know you’re babbling at this point, sounding something like, “Close, so close, oh my God, please, please, I’m going to, please–” 

And when a hand reaches and pinches a nipple, hard, you cum. Jeongin’s pace never changes as he helps you ride it through, and you think you’ve never had an orgasm last this long. It feels like a solid minute passes as you cry and spasm in their hold, legs shaking but remaining open. As you start to come down, you feel a hand in your hair, soothing you. 

You let out a heavy breath as Jeongin finally removes his finger, slumping forward. At the same time the blindfold is removed from your head and you’re exposed to the brightness of the room again, blinking as your vision refocuses. You’re just in time to see Jeongin stick his finger into his mouth, moaning as he licks your release from his appendage. 

“Color?” Seungmin asks from behind you. 

“Green,” you answer, still trying to catch your breath. “That was intense. I’ve never cum that hard in my life,” you admit. 

“You did so good,” Jeongin praises. “We’re going to keep going, okay? We gotta give you your punishment for being late.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The next thing you see him pull out is a paddle, long and wooden with a rounded end. It looks smooth to the touch but also expensive, as if he invested a good amount of money to pick out one that suited his needs. Not that you would be able to tell the difference between this one and any other paddle, since it was your first time getting spanked in any sense of the manner. 

“Bend over for me, ass in the air, okay?” 

You do as you're told, burying your face in the sheets as you stick your ass up in the air. Seungmin still sits on the bed, watching. 

“Gonna do ten hits, okay baby?” The pet name makes your head spin. 

“Okay, sir,” you answer, remembering to use your words.

“Want you to count them for me.” And with that, he hits your ass with an experimental tap of the paddle, just a little force behind it. It stings just a bit but doesn’t necessarily hurt. 

“One,” you say. 

“You can do it a little harder,” Seungmin encourages. 

On the same cheek follows a harder hit, one that most definitely will be red. It’s loud enough to make a distinct clapping sound echo through the room. 

“Two.” 

“That was better, but you can still do it harder. Don’t be afraid to put some force into it, she can tell you if it’s too much.” 

Now to your other cheek comes the hardest hit yet. This one is enough for your breath to hitch in your throat, your voice shaking as you say, “Three.” 

“Can I show you?” Seungmin asks, standing. Jeongin nods his head behind you and hands off the paddle to Seungmin, standing to the side. You tilt your head to the side, trying to look and see if you can anticipate the blow, but you’re not fast enough. 

Seungmin reels his hand back. This time you can hear the whiff of the paddle in the air a second before it comes, and this hit causes you to cry out. You lurch forward, running away from it slightly. “Like this,” he explains. “She wants it to hurt. If you look close enough, you can see her pretty little cunt clenching. It’s going to be red, and it might bruise a little bit, but she can take it.” 

Seungmin delivers a second hit just as hard as the first, and this time you moan. He’s right–you clench around nothing at the action. You didn’t realize just how much the action would turn you on. His hand comes down to soothe where he hit you, the cold from his palm soothing the skin. 

“Remember to use your words baby,” he chides. “Are you supposed to be counting?” 

“Yes, sir,” you stutter. “Four and five.” 

“Normally, I would start over if they forget to count,” Seungmin explains to Jeongin. “But since it’s both of your first times, we can go easy on her today.” He passes the paddle back to Jeongin and stands back, arms crossed and observing. 

When Jeongin delivers the next hit it’s with much more precision and force than previously. You let out a much louder moan this time. 

“Six,” you breathe. 

“You should see her face,” Seungmin says. “She looks pretty fucked out.” 

“God, that’s so hot,” Jeongin says softly. You can feel him grab your ass and knead it in your hand and you wince, sensitive from the contact of the paddle against your skin. “You’re soaking, baby, I can see your pretty pussy glistening. So fucking dirty for us. Just a few more, okay?” 

“Mhmm, okay sir.” You take the rest of your punishment well and you can tell that you’re red and sore without even looking. You start to slump forward before you feel Jeongin���s hands on your hips, grabbing you to keep you in place. 

He slides a finger up and down your entrance, gathering your slick. You’re so wet you can hear it and the sound is filthy on its own. But at the little bit of contact where you’re already pulsing in need, you let out a needy sound. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says. “What’s your color?” 

You let out a strangled sound before answering. “M Green.” 

You hear him open the condom and you crane your head, trying to get a good look at his length. His cock is long but skinny, red and leaking already from arousal. With one hand bruising your hip he guides himself to you and you can feel him at your entrance, his tip prodding at your hole. Your breath catches in your throat and in response he rubs his cock up and down, teasing your clit. 

“Fuckkk, fuck please,” you say, rocking your hips back to try to push him inside of you. When he catches at your entrance you let out a whine, only increasing in volume when he pushes into you at an agonizingly slow pace. He bottoms out and stills, and for a second the only thing you can hear in the room is your breathing. With that same strong grip on his hips he pulls out, leaving just the tip in before he slams back into you. You lurch forward at the contact, not expecting him to be so forceful. He repeats the action, setting a brutal and relentless pace. All you can think is yes, yes, yes, this is exactly what I wanted. 

And so when a hand comes up and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulls you back and yanks it hard, you let out a loud sound that you know can only be described as pornographic. He uses his grip to give himself momentum, pulling you on and off of his cock and digging his nails into your hips. You wonder if you’ll have red and purple crescent-shaped indents in your skin tomorrow, and you hope the answer is yes. 

Each thrust is hard enough that you let out an “ah, ah, ah,” sound. You no longer worry about sounding dumb, succumbing to the blinding pressure instead. 

Steadily, he works you up to your high. You can feel yourself getting close and faster than you ever have before. You’re a babbling incoherent mess once again, trying to warn them of your approaching release. “Close, close, I’m gonna, fuck, please–” 

“Edge her on your cock,” Seungmin says, interrupting you. He comes to sit on the bed, face to face with your messy appearance. 

Before you can beg or plead any more, Jeongin stills inside you. Your orgasm fizzles and dissipates and you let out a strangled cry in protest. You try to rock back into him, but to no avail. Instead his hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you up and guiding your face to Seungmin even closer. You try to look away.

Seungmin tilts your head to meet his eyes, thumbing away a tear that you hadn’t realized escaped. “You wanted to see what it’s like to be a sub, let somebody else take over? You wanted to see what it’s like to lose control? This is it, baby.” You whine for a second and he shushes you, pushing two fingers past your lips and into your mouth. 

“Keep going,” Seungmin says, still looking at you. You can feel Jeongin start to rock back into you, slower now but you can still feel him pressing deep inside you. It doesn’t take long for him to work you up again, your orgasm approaching much faster than the last. You moan around Seungmin’s fingers, trying to let him know. 

“You gonna cum for Innie?” Blinking up at him, you nod with your vision hazy from tears. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and you groan, catching your breath. “Look at me while you cum on his cock.” 

And you do. Clenching around him tight, Jeongin works you right through your orgasm. Seungmin’s gaze never leaves yours, though through your immense pleasure you watch his eyes darken. It doesn’t take long before Jeongin finds his own release, spilling into the condom.

When he pulls out and releases his grip from your hair you surge forward, wrapping your arms around Seungmin. 

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, a hand coming to graze up and down your spine that leaves shivers on your skin. “What’s your color?” 

“G-green.” 

“You want to keep going? Think you can take me?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’re doing so good, so good baby.” He comes undone from your embrace, a hand coming up to soothe your aching scalp for a second. He positions himself behind you, contemplating before flipping you over to face him. You watch your own chest rise and fall from your heavy breathing and you will it to slow, watching the blank expression on his face. He reaches behind his neck to pull his shirt off, revealing his slightly toned figure. 

He pushes his jeans down his legs and frees his cock which looks painfully hard. He’s not as long as Jeongin but he’s thicker, and you don’t even have time to think about how he’s going to feel before he’s sliding the condom on and pushing in, slightly stretching you out in the process.

“Shit, sensitive,” you warn. 

“You can take it,” he says. “If you need to use your color system you can.” You nod at him in confirmation, wincing from the sensitivity as he starts fucking into you. You can’t help how hard you’re squeezing around him already. When Jeongin settles behind you, cradling your head in his lap, you can’t help but look up at him with wide eyes. Seungmin sets a steady pace, pounding into you deep but not as hard as Jeongin had. After a few consistent thrusts he’s lifting your legs up, pushing them towards your chest. 

“Keep these here,” he tells you. With shaky hands you hold yourself in place, presenting yourself for him. This new angle allows him to reach impossibly deeper and you can feel the wet slap of his hips against the back of your thighs with every thrust. “Fuck, so good for us,” he grunts. “Such a perfect little slut for us, yeah? God, Jeongin, touch her clit, I’m already fucking close.” 

Jeongin does as instructed, reaching down to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves with expertly skilled hands. His other hand reaches to thumb at your nipple, causing you to close your eyes and tilt your head back.

Your thighs are trembling and before you can even say anything your orgasm is ripped out of you, blinding you with how suddenly it came on. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear as Seungmin snaps his hips into two more times before you feel him twitch, filling up the inside of the condom. 

You finally catch your breath as he stills, pulling out of you. He stands up to discard the condom and you almost don’t catch the whine that leaves your mouth. 

“It’s okay, baby, I’m right here. Neither of us are going anywhere,” Jeongin says, his words soothing the discomfort that had started to bubble in your chest. You’ve never felt so clingy before after sex but you feel at ease when Jeongin wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you further into his lap. 

When Seungmin returns he slides into a pair of sweats and joins you on the bed. They both dote on you for several minutes, comforting you and soothing the areas of your skin that had received more harsh treatment. 

Seungmin finally speaks, “That was intense, but you did so good for your first time. Do you feel okay? Is there anything that you didn’t like?” 

You shake your head at him. “That was like, everything I’d ever dreamed of, honestly.” They both let out a soft chuckle at that. 

“I liked it too,” Jeongin said. “You looked so… God I loved making you look like that. That was a lot of fun.” You had almost forgotten that it was his first scene, too. You weren’t sure what you were expecting going into everything but you were more than happy with the outcome, moreso with the amount of open communication that they had had with you. You smile happily and nuzzle your head against the bed, almost dozing off. 

“Hey hey, I’m gonna run you a shower, okay?” 

“Don’t want to leave you,” you mumble. 

“Innie can join you in the shower and then we can take a small nap if you’d like, yeah? I have to change my sheets and you need to get cleaned up.” You hear the shower running in the other room and barely register it when Jeongin scoops you up and brings you to the shower. He holds you steady as you rock back and forth under the warm stream of water, even going as far as scrubbing your skin and toweling you dry. 

When you get under the covers you hum as you feel a warm pair of arms wrap around your frame, pulling you close. Another body lays to your other side, running a hand through your hair. 

“I want to do this again,” you say, your brain still in a deep-fried haze. You smile at the sound of laughter. 

“Sure, baby. We can talk about it when we wake up.”  *** Part 3/4 of the threesome series!! Ahhh this one took me forever to write but I hope y'all enjoy!! (TBH I have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing IRL but I tried my best and I did some research lol) Masterlist Recs Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3/ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series

[rottiens]

✮ tags. . canon au, satoru x no sorceress reader, neighbor!satoru, pinning, sfw (except maybe at the end, but it's nothing explicit).

✮ notes. . just a silly lil thing I had on the wips, this was way before the manga ended only now I've been encouraged to finish it, I think, it goes along with how the manga ended (no spoilers!) and is just a glimpse maybe at satoru's canon personality (I miss him painfully). divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. 1.9K

It has always been written in Satoru's nature that he must protect others. Even before he was born, his destiny was marked by the six-eyed ancestor, and the person before him and then the one before that.

He has taken on the role of caretaker of others long before he could have the choice to decide if he wanted it. In his hands is the power to care for his students, his clan, and every sorcerer he knows and those he doesn't even know. The weight of responsibility this puts on him over time has faded, with years of experience Satoru has learned to take the weight off the stress that comes with his responsibility as the strongest and has decided to accept his fate, without much thought to the title that haunts him wherever he goes, he was not simply Satoru, he was the strongest, always.

When called he goes, when ordered he acts. He attends mission after mission, traveling from one city to another and gets to the apartment he bought near the center of the city to flop down on the softness of the expensive mattress, often too tired to take off his uniform, shoes or blindfold, he lets the darkness of the place, the nearby noise of the air conditioner and the light traffic of the street pamper him.

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember the last time he took a vacation or, he can't be that greedy; he just doesn't remember the last day he had off where he could have gone to the sea, sunbathed and sunk his feet in the sand, unless this wasn't part of a mission one way or the other. And that's fine, although he doesn't like to see himself as it, he's just another tool of the system and the tools....

Bang, bang, bang!

Satoru lifts his head from the boiling coffee pot with the brown puddle inside it looking like a fountain, he leans further over the countertop paying attention to the sound that seems to be coming from his front door. Something hard, solid, seems to hit the wood, not a fist... it must be something else, he deduces at once.

The coffee pot goes silent and the aroma of fresh coffee beans escapes throughout his kitchen. Satoru lifts his back and walks barefoot towards the entrance, whoever was behind he couldn't sense it. It wasn't Shoko, obviously he could smell her cigarette from inside if it was, the person whoever it was... it didn't smell like anything, and Satoru was curious about it.

“Hello?” your voice is soft, sweet as candy, or at least that's how Satoru perceives it. And being a sugar addict, he can't help but take a step forward, deciding to finally open the door before your fist, or whatever else you're using to interrupt his quiet morning, knocks a third time.

“Hey.” Satoru stops a flirtatious smile that he disguises with a polite one. Friendly. Like the good neighbor he is.

Satoru could be living much closer to Jujutsu High, in the modern condo just a block away, ideal for always being on time. But where would be the fun in being early every day? Even though with just a snap of his fingers he could show up in the middle of the classroom whenever he wanted, he likes to use the distance as an excuse whenever someone asks him why he was late.

Actually, Satoru doesn't know anyone in the neighborhood. He always comes late at night and leaves at dawn, sometimes before the sun even rises; so he doesn't remember seeing you before. And if he ever did, as someone with no cursed energy, you would have gone totally unnoticed.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, trying not to make his confusion sound abrupt, though his brows furrow a bit as he watches you curiously.

You are contemplated like a bug under a microscope, with your neighbor's glowing blue eyes you feel stalked, small even. His eyes catch all the light in the hallway, they seem to glow and his dilated pupils catch your attention causing that no matter how much you avoid him, you always end up returning to his gaze, not to mention how tall he is and how peculiar his white hair is, unlike him, you prefer not to stare.

He finds you interesting, he can't stop looking at you. The only other person he knew incapable of being able to feel was dead now. So you were something unique to him, something that arouses genuine interest in him.

“This.” A box, almost your size in your hands. On top, a yellow envelope. “It's yours, I received these packages a few weeks ago and I meant to return them to you earlier but whenever I stopped by you weren't home...”

His frown deepens for a second before replacing it with a relaxed expression. He finds the situation strange, taking into account that he is never home, he buys everything he needs in person, he rarely shops online so he doubts that someone has sent packages in his name, to his address.

Anyway, he decides to accept it when he sees your trembling fingers clutching the box. He takes it from your arms and you let out a grateful groan, whatever is inside is heavy.

“Thank you,” you say. Satoru catches you looking him up and down, he had barely gotten out of the shower after coming in from running a few miles.

His hair was dry, somewhat fluffy giving him a relaxed look, and dark gray sweatpants are hanging off his hips. He's wearing a white cotton t-shirt that still clings a bit to his skin from the heat of the bathroom.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” the question leaves his lips almost automatically, and while his tone is nonchalant, Satoru waits curiously. You've probably already noticed the particular aroma wafting from his apartment, that mix between fresh coffee and something a little more mysterious. There's nothing wrong with the invitation, is there? After all, he's just trying to be a good neighbor, even if, deep down, the truth is that he wants to catch something from you, to find a way to feel your presence, to get to know you a little better as he does with anything that piques his interest.

You smile, with that reserved touch, and bring your hands behind your back, tucking them into the pockets of your shorts as you sway subtly on your heels. And even though he can't sense your energy, he almost seems to predict your response just by watching you.

“Maybe later.” Sure.

He didn't expect you to walk into a stranger's place just for coffee, he had to take a chance anyway.

“Thanks again, neighbor.”

He doesn't try to sound flirtatious but he does. You're cute, you're his type and you're not a sorceress, that just makes you more irresistible to a person who is used to always keeping control of everything that happens around him.

That morning with the box in your hands that, later, he realized was full of books and manuscripts that were sent from his clan to deliver to the school library, was the first time Satoru saw you. From then on he tried to make the encounters between the two of you less and less casual and more planned.

At first it was difficult, arranging his busy schedule in such a way that he would sometimes meet you in the hallways, taking the elevator or opening the door to your place in such a way that it seemed coincidental but Satoru succeeded. Within a few weeks he had learned about your schedule when you were at home, so he was always looking for an excuse for him to be around at the same time.

In between casual conversations, he began to get to know you better, discovering where you came from and how long ago you had moved into the big building. Satoru realized that you weren't just a pretty face; you had a good heart, an apartment decorated with real plants, and a cat that ran to greet you at the door with a meowing song, brushing against Satoru's legs in greeting.

After a couple of months, you had created a routine that he found comforting. He was next to you in this utopian bubble where no one else existed, a place where he didn't have to be alert all the time.

And... where was he? Right. The tools, the system and all that.

Tools like him don't think or make decisions; they're designed only to be used when they're needed. But with you, he felt like a regular man, one who didn't see curses crawling down the hallway trying to pierce your home, or one who wasn't constantly overstimulated by the energy that engulfed the world, one who wasn't aware of the changes in the cursed energy of others. With you, he was, really, just Satoru Gojo; one who didn't know he could be something more, someone more than the title he was given at birth. He was an ordinary high school teacher, and you were just you; you saw him as something more than the strongest and there was something beautiful for the first time in the raw idea of being nothing more than a mere human.

For the first time, he didn't feel his responsibility as a burden, but as a gift. It was the first time he didn't feel overwhelmed or with a bad taste in his mouth for being a tool, because now he could use it to take care of you. It was the first time he felt good about the responsibility of caring for someone like you.

“What do you think?” You're about to fall asleep on his couch, a couch he only uses when you come to visit him, so Satoru thinks he can't waste the opportunity to admire you up close. Watching your moles, how smooth your skin looks, the sweat dampening your collarbone and how much he wishes he could drink it.

When caught staring like a stalker, he doesn't flinch; he simply brings his eyes back to yours. You have one eye squinted watching him, while the other struggles to stay open, the dialogue from the show in the background fading like white noise.

“You're tired.” You snort before closing your eyes completely.

“I'm not. I want to finish this episode with you,” you say, clearly drowsy, snuggling further into the couch and clinging to the cushion between your legs, which Satoru wishes was his head. He sighs, feeling a tug on his ribs.

“Why don't you sleep for a while?” he suggests, playing ping pong between your lips and your face.

You purr something intelligible as the fist holding your chin weakens slowly while the dialogue on the television ends and the white letters begin to slowly scroll across the screen. Satoru consumes you with his gaze, inclined to touch you and settle you better on the softness of his couch. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels his shorts tighten. The skin of your arm so warm under his knuckles, just as he had thought, and he thinks if he set his mind to it he could watch you sleep all day.

In a moment of hesitation, Satoru moves a little closer, feeling the warmth of your breath brush against his face, your lips pout indicating the level of relaxation you're in. Fuck. Just before he can do something he shouldn't, he jumps up and heads for the kitchen, where he grabs a glass of cold water and rushes to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and yanking down his shorts.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 4: Ateez bias wrecker - Seonghwa✨️

Experimental

AN: Ah, the Ateez menace. Is this trope overdone? Probably. Is it still one of my favourites? Absolutely. Ngl, this is definitely one of the fics I was the most excited to write for this week.

Synopsis: You love your boyfriend. He's always so gentle, sweet and kind with you. However, sometimes... sometimes you wish he wouldn't be.

Heads up: Park Seonghwa x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mentions of biting (f. receiving) and Seonghwa bruising Reader, Reader feeling a little self-conscious about her sexual desires, use of the traffic light system, restraints (Seonghwa uses a silk tie on Reader), Hard(ish) Dom! Seonghwa, Sub! Reader, elements of objectification (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), Reader sucking on Seonghwa's fingers, facefucking (f. receiving), Reader cries quite a bit in this, choking (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), Reader gets spanked once, unprotected piv sex, creampie and aftercare.

Word count: 3358

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Seonghwa has always been easy to read. You can tell from the nonsensical patterns he traces along your hip that something is on his mind. It probably has to do with the light bite mark present on your shoulder and the slight sensitivity you can feel along where his fingers dug into your hips.

"I'm sorry," he says so quietly that you almost miss it.

"For what?"

"For these," he responds, fingers tracing over the bruises he more than likely left in his wake. His lips gently pressing into the mark on your shoulder.

You want to tell him it's fine. You liked it. You loved it, even. You want him to do it harder next time. You want him to make flowers bloom all over your skin. You want him to lose himself like he did tonight. More than he did tonight.

Instead, "It's okay, Hwa. You didn't hurt me, I promise." Is all you can muster.

"Still, I'm sorry," he mutters sleepily into your skin. Squeezing you to him as he slips into a restful sleep. You wish it was that easy for you. However, as your own fingers lightly trace the mark on your shoulder, the thoughts that have been plaguing you for months return.

"Something's on your mind," are the first words out of Seonghwa's mouth when he settles besides you on the couch.

"Hi to you too,"

"Hi, something's on your mind. What's up?"

Logically, you know Seonghwa would never make you feel ashamed or less than for your wants. Still, anxiety pools in your gut as your mind races to find the words to tell him what you've been wanting to say for what feels like ages now.

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it-"

"I want you to be rougher with me," you spit out. Your face warming when you take in his startled and confused expression.

"You want me to be...rougher with you?" He parrots back, blinking at you.

You resist the impulse to shove your face into one of the couch cushions and scream until you're hoarse.

"When we-when we have sex," you start, focusing your gaze on the kitchen counter over his shoulder, "sometimes I wish you'd be a little rougher. Not that I don't like how we have sex now. Really, I do. You always make me feel loved, and you make sure I feel good, which I appreciate, but sometimes I wish you'd just...take what you want."

The silence that greets you only makes your heart rate kick up. From the brief glances you're able to catch of his face, the shock seems to have dissipated somewhat. His cheeks flushed an attractive pink while his expression seems more pensive.

"What brought this on?"

Warm hands envelope yours, and you finally find the courage to meet his non-judgemental gaze. You knew he wouldn't be, but the affection that bubbles up inside of you at his genuine want to talk about this makes you want to kiss him.

"I just - it's something I've always wanted to try. Sometimes you get more aggressive and I think I really like that. Like a few nights ago, when you bit me and left bruises on me...it was honestly exhilarating. I just couldn't find the words to tell you all of this until now. You give so much, and I just think I'd like to experience what it would be like if you just took for once."

He mulls your words over. Thumb absentmindedly rubbing against your hand.

"I hope you know I like giving though. I love making you fall apart for me. It's not some kind of chore for me,"

"I didn't mean to imply that it was. You're one of the most caring men I've ever met, Hwa. You've never made me feel like my pleasure was some kind of burden for you to shoulder. I'd just been thinking about this for some time. It's completely okay if you don't want to. I understand," and you mean it. You'd never forgive yourself if he did this for you and hated the very thought of it.

His expression is unreadable now, and you feel your throat tighten with the anxiety of it all. You hope you hadn't just completely obliterated your entire relationship. God, what if he feels inadequate now? Why can't you just keep your big mouth shut-

"I'll think about it. It's not a no or a yes but, I promise I'll really think about it," he responds, kissing the inside of one of your wrists. A habit he's picked up over the course of your relationship.

"Really?"

"I said I promise, didn't I?" The smile he gives you is small and playful but genuine all the same. The weight on your chest lightens up significantly after that.

"Too tight?" Seonghwa asks behind you, his hands securing his silk tie around your wrists. You give it an experimental tug. Not too tight but tight enough that you can feel it pressing into your skin. Perfect.

"No, it's okay," you respond, already feeling a little lightheaded, and he hasn't even truly gotten started.

Your insides squirm when he comes into view. His eyes roving over your face and body meticulously. Checking for any signs of discomfort. Still, even with your comfort being the main point of interest on his mind, the want in his eyes is clear as day to you.

You knew when he said yes that he was going to give this a sincere try but, seeing that it's affecting him too makes your insides squirm.

"Colour?"

"Green," you breathe, and he nods, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up towards him.

"You'll tell me when you want me to stop, right?"

You nod, mind already growing foggy from the way he runs his thumb along your lower lip.

"Words, baby. Don't make me have to tell you again," his voice is still so soft and gentle and familiar, but there's an edge that's new, and it sends lightning down your spine.

"Yes,"

"Good girl," he mutters, leaning down to kiss you. You can't help the whimpers that spill from your mouth. Already so incredibly high strung. Hands itching to reach for him and pull him even closer, but you keep them where they are.

The look on his face is thoughtful when he eventually leans away from you. Lidded eyes taking in the way his fingers look running along your now slightly wet lower lip.

"Open," is all he has to say, and you comply easily. Eyes shutting as you suck on his two fingers. Gagging slightly when he pushes them further and further in your mouth.

The quiet curse you manage to hear from him prompts you to open your eyes as best as you can. You feel yourself clench hard at the sight, thighs rubbing together in search of any kind of friction to help ease the building ache.

His eyes are heavy with want. Laser focused on watching you choke in his fingers, some spit dribbling down the side of your mouth. A quick glance down affirms to you that he's just as into all of this so far as you are.

"You're going to make me lose my mind," he mutters, slipping his fingers from your mouth and hurriedly unbuckling his belt.

You almost moan when his hard cock is finally freed from the confines of his pants and boxers. Pretty and flushed an appealing red as it smacks against his clothed abdomen.

"See something you want?" He asks, smugness radiating off of him in waves. He's so close. If either of you just move a few centimetres, you'd be pressed right against him. Right against it. Typically, Seonghwa wouldn't be one to tease too long. Tonight isn't typical, however, based on the way he's looking down on you. Waiting for a response.

"Yes," you whisper, eyes glued to his cock. Fingernails biting into the skin of your hands.

"Well, what is it that you want?" God, is he really going to make you say it? You wouldn't be surprised if your face was actually radiating heat. Then again, you did ask for this.

"I-I want your c-cock," you whisper

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you, baby,"

You've never hated him more than in this moment, but you want it. You want him. Embarrassment be damned.

"I want y-your cock," you say louder this time, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. Eyes that always got you your way.

Anticipation floods your system when he moves closer, pretty fingers wrapping around his even prettier cock. Eyes heavy with intent. You think you can count on both hands the number of times Seonghwa has let you suck him off. Always adamant that you didn't have to and that he much preferred having his mouth on you any day of the week.

As much as you loved and appreciated his giving nature, you'd always fantasised about him like this. Looming over you and ready to use your mouth to his heart's content.

It takes everything in you not to lean forward and take his tip in his mouth when he's right in front of you, but you resist. "Open," he commands, eyes turning fiery when you comply and stick out your tongue for him.

"You look so pretty like this," he says, stepping even closer to you and finally letting you taste him. Between the compliment and the weight of his tip on your tongue, you wouldn't be surprised to find that you'd dripped onto your bedroom floor by now.

His intense gaze remains focused on your mouth. Lips parting when he pushes himself further into you, a quiet groan leaving him when he hits the back of your throat and you gag a little bit.

You can see the impulse in him to stop and, check if you're okay but, you hope based on the way you relax your throat and meet his gaze with a wanton one of your own that he doesn't. Seonghwa seems to deliberate for a moment before continuing on until your nose to his toned abdomen, and you're filled with him.

His hands fist your hair as he gains his bearings. Eyes shutting, and his jaw clenching painfully from where you're looking while he throbs in your mouth. He's a little salty, and you can feel yourself struggling to adjust, but it's worth it all to see that look on his handsome face.

He starts slow. The drag of his cock against your tongue makes your head spin, his hold on your hair tightening as he gradually fucks your mouth. His groans increase in both frequency and volume, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he loses himself in your mouth.

"Fuck, that's it. That's my cockslut," he moans, increasing his thrusts. You can already feel your throat growing sore, trying to breathe as best as you can through your nose while he has his way with you. It takes you a moment to register what he called you, and you moan around him, the vibrations causing him to curse and his hips to jolt into you more harshly than he intended to.

"Sorry, baby. Your mouth just feels so good," he moans, and if you weren't too busy choking on him, you'd tell him it's fine. He can do whatever he wants with you. You trust him.

You're sure you look like a mess. Tears streaking down your warm face, a mixture of your spit and his pre-cum dribbling out of your mouth onto your tits but, you don't care. You can't care when you know he's enjoying himself like this.

Which is why it takes you by surprise when he takes himself out of your mouth. Your respective pants filling the space between the two of you while his slick cock twitches.

While you're grateful for the rush of oxygen, you're a little confused and disappointed. However, before you can voice those feelings, his large hand wraps itself around your throat, and his tongue is in your mouth. You've kissed Seonghwa more times than you can count. It's one of your favourite things to do with him but, he's never kissed you like this.

He's practically trying to eat you alive where you're kneeling for him. Fingers pressing into the sides of your neck and, suddenly, you're wondering why you cared about oxygen in the first place when you'd gladly take him in over anything else.

For all his reservations earlier, he's slipped into all of this rather effortlessly.

"Colour?" He mutters against your cheek, eyes softening momentarily while he let's you catch your breath.

"Green," you gasp, leaning into him. Reveling in his touch.

The softness disappears just as quickly as it appeared. Large hands helping you up and supporting your body as best as he can until you find your face shoved into your pillows. Ass up and your slickness clear as day for him to see.

Your heart is in your throat as you listen to him shuffle behind him. Not daring to move an inch, but it takes everything in you not to glance at him. Curiosity piqued when the sounds of what you assume is him hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt and tugging off his bottoms hits your ears.

"You're so wet," he groans, his fingers lightly running along your slit. A pitchy moan leaves you when his fingers touch your clit but, they're gone before you can truly enjoy the contact.

"Did choking on my cock make you this wet, hmm? What a dirty girl," you'd give anything to see the smirk you're sure is painted across his pretty face.

Your eyes widen in surprise and, a gasp flies from you when you feel the sting of his hand coming down on your ass, "I asked you a question."

"Ye-yes, Hwa,"

"Yes what?"

"Yes, cho-choking on your cock made me this wet,"

"Good, so you can speak," maybe you've created a monster.

You're half-expecting to draw blood from how hard you bite down on your lip when his fingers leave you. However, disappointing is quickly replaced by exhilaration when you feel the familiar prod of his head at your entrance.

"You're practically soaking my dick," he mutters, dragging himself against you. Your thighs shake violently with every nudge of your clit, nails biting into your hands in hopes of some semblance of holding yourself together.

"Please," you whimper.

"Oh? Is there something you want?" You might hate him.

"Yes, please. I want your cock, pl-please. I want you to fu-fuck me, please,"

Your mind blanks out momentarily when he sinks into you. The stretch stinging even with how beyond wet you are for him.

"So fucking wet and tight," he mutters under his breath, his fingers biting into your hips. You're thankful your face is comfortably nestled in a pillow right now because you bite down hard when he begins to move. Giving you little room to adjust to his merciless pace.

He uses all the weaknesses he's picked up over the course of your relationship. Grip firm as he holds you in place, his cock stretches you out deliciously and brushes against spots that render your mind thoughtless.

Overwhelmed tears run down your face when his hand weaves itself in your hair, shoving your face further into your pillow and looming over you. "You love being used by me, huh? My pathetic slut."

Your keens are swallowed by the fabric of the pillows, but you assume he gets the point. His breathless laugh filling your ears. Laughing like he's not pushing you closer and closer to madness or maybe because of it.

"The way you're clenching me around me tells me everything I need to know, I suppose," he muses. His unoccupied hand reaches around to draw quick circles on your sensitive clit. Broken moans and gasps and whimpers all being muffled by your pillow. Your release is so close that you can practically taste it.

Usually, you're pretty good at picking up when Seonghwa is close. He has so many little tells that it makes it ridiculously easy, but, given your current state, you aren't exactly in the most aware space. That's why, when a strangled cry of your name hits your ears and you feel him pulse inside of you, to say you're caught off-guard would be an understatement.

His fingers still drag along your clit, albeit a little more uncoordinatedly. Still, it's all enough to cause your body to seize. You're sure you black out for a few seconds from how hard your orgasm hits you, sensations and sobs wreaking your body. Slick walls clamping down harshly on Seonghwa's softening cock as he tries his best to soothe you through it.

You try your best not to cringe when you feel him pull out of you, your releases smearing your inner thighs and dribbling out of you. Your combined laboured breathing rings out. You're more than ready to pass out right now, but Seonghwa probably wouldn't let you.

"How are you feeling?" He asks gently behind you, nimble fingers working to undo his tie around your wrists.

"'M good. Just a little sore and tired," you mutter. Humming in appreciation as he massages your wrists, helping them regain circulation. Honestly, the tie wasn't all that tight, but you know telling him that wouldn't stop him.

You move with little fanfare when he manoeuvres you onto your back. His eyes scanning over your face and body for any serious signs of distress or discomfort. They linger between your thighs, and you can't help but smile in amusement.

"You did a really good job," you mutter, watching him through heavy eyelids.

The blush that colours his cheeks prompts a giggle out of you. "Thanks," he mutters, "I'll be right back. Just going to get you some water and something to help clean you up."

You want to whine for him not to go. That you'd rather just cuddle and go to sleep, but he's out of the door before your brain can pull itself together enough to articulate those particular thoughts. At least you can take solace in the view of his broad back and ass.

You're startled awake when you feel the warm, wet drag of something on your face. Blinking awake to see Seonghwa looking at you apologetically as he wipes the trails of tears and spit from your face, "Sorry. I just need to clean you up, and then you can sleep all you want."

It's not entirely unpleasant. The cloth is warm, and Seonghwa's touch is delicate. You find yourself nuzzling into him as he cleans you up, only really flinching when he cleans between your thighs.

"There, all done," he says after what feels like just a few brief minutes, "I'll take this back to the bathroom. Be sure to drink up the water I brought you while I'm gone, okay? We don't want you getting dehydrated."

You nod in his general direction, all but chugging down the liquid. You hadn't realised you were this thirsty, but good thing your boyfriend has a knack for reading you like the back of his hand.

"Can we cuddle and go to sleep now?" You mutter when he returns. Honestly, if you weren't so exhausted, the sight of his naked body illuminated by streaks of the moonlight would be more than enough to make you want to jump him again. Maybe in the morning.

He chuckles while he slips into bed with you, pulling you towards him and tucking you into his side, "Yes, we can cuddle and go to sleep now."

Your hands keep him as close to you as humanly possible. The events of the past few hours dragging you deeper and deeper in slumber but, before that, "Hwa?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you and, thank you,"

"Hey, you have nothing to thank me for," he mutters against your forehead after planting a kiss there, "and I love you too. Now go to sleep," he continues jokingly.

He doesn't need to tell you twice.

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 2

Summary: Upon arrival at Coruscant, the planet's senator gets to finally meet the infamous Clone Force 99 who are assigned to protect her.

Warning: threat to one's life, talks of assassination, beginning of anxiety attack, slight argument

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 6.4k

Series Masterlist

The planet of Coruscant was one of the most active planets in the entire galaxy. The surface was riddled with various cities; skyscrapers that tried to reach the sky. The underground system, which often times wasn't the best location to be, was also incredibly active during all hours of the day. And in the skies, modes of transportation were always going from one place to another.

The Marauder entered the planet's atmosphere, having just come out of hyperspace. The descend took a little longer than usual given the air traffic. However, eventually, the Marauder was able to make its way to the capital city. They made sure to land on the correct landing platform.

As the ramp descended, the group of five climbed out of their ship. Not far away, Commander Cody stood at attention and was ready to greet the clone force upon arrival to Coruscant. He gave a single nod to them in acknowledgment.

"Commander," Hunter greeted.

"It's been a while, boys." Commander Cody commented. He looked at each of them carefully as if expecting to see some kind of change, but there really wasn't anything much different about their looks or behavior.

"Not long enough evidently," Crosshair grunted from the back of the group. He went to cross his arms over the stretch of his chest. He was most certainly the least happy one to be assigned this mission.

"You didn't give much details on the line," Hunter explained. "What are we working against here?"

Slowly, Commander Cody began to walk back towards the compound. The rest of them went to follow. Though Cody and Hunter were heading the group.

Now the commander made sure to survey his surroundings before bringing up the sensitive topic. "The senator has faced three assassination attempts within the last month alone. The last one claimed the lives of her guards," Cody told them.

"And that's where we come in?" Echo questioned.

"Our main priority is to keep the senator safe at all costs. Hopefully, if we play our cards right, we can catch whoever was sent by letting them come to us," Commander Cody expressed.

"So lay low, keep our eyes open, and protect the senator?" Hunter replied.

"At all costs," Cody added.

"Shouldn't be too hard," Wrecker said with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Don't be too sure," Cody warned. They approached the entrance of the building. The doors slid open for them to enter the lift.

The small group went to enter the lift, finding a spot before the doors closed in front of them. After clicking the button for their final destination, the lift began to move.

"The assailant...whoever it is...they are nothing like I've seen before. It's not like a bounty hunter; they're much too sloppy for a job like this. No...we are dealing with a professional here," Commander Cody almost sounded conflicted.

In the background, Hunter and Crosshair seemed to glance at each other through the corner of their eyes. They both knew the kinds of missions the commander had been on and the things he had seem. It didn't bring them much relief knowing that even the commander was worried about his mission.

The doors slowly opened to reveal a grand entry room. The marble flooring was shining against the soft glow of the golden lights. There were intricate golden patterns that looked like crown molding near the ceiling. And the handles on the door were made of pure gold.

"She should be just inside," Commander Cody insisted. He went to open the door doors, which allowed the rest of the group to enter the senator's office.

The most appealing part of the grand office was the massive window overlooking the busy city. There was plenty of comfortable seating, ranging from single seats to full couches. And a single desk was situated in the center of the room. Though the senator was nowhere to be found.

The Clone Force were a little cautious to step into such an impressive looking space. They felt a little out of place with their custom black plastoid armor and unique looking helmets. Not to mention the fact that they were all defective clones with varying appearances.

It could have just been the color of the lighting or the modern look of furniture in the room. However, everything looked so pristine and rather expensive. They honestly didn't think this office belonged to a senator, rather it belonged to a princess.

Each of them had gone their own ways throughout the room. While Tech instantly gravitated towards the small collection of books on a nearby shelf, Echo found himself standing in front of the window looking out at the city.

Without much thought, Wrecker went to touch a little glass figurine on the senator's desk. Though before his hand could make contact, Hunter's instincts kicked in and swatted his hand once as a warning.

"Don't touch anything," Hunter mumbled under his breath.

"I'm sure the senator is just running a little late from her last meeting," Commander Cody explained. "She shouldn't be too long."

Upon hearing this, Clone Force 99 made their way to stand in front of the desk. They wanted to make a good first impression on the senator whenever she arrived. As they waited, their eyes viewed the skyline in front of them.

All of the sudden, there was a slight shift in the atmosphere of the room. Naturally, as if it was a response, Hunter turned his head ever so slightly to his left. His ears perked up upon hearing an unfamiliar soft heartbeat coming from the room next door. He glanced at the door on his left through the corner of his eye.

As the heartbeat drew closer and louder, Hunter was able to make out the muffled conversation that followed from the other room. Despite the fact that Commander Cody was speaking with the rest of his brothers, Hunter seemed to ignore them and could only focus on the heartbeat. It was the softest thing he had ever heard.

"Do me a favor? Behave yourselves, boys." Commander Cody commanded them.

"No promises," Crosshair replied snakily.

Finally, Hunter went to turn his head to look directly at the door beside them. It was if he predicted the arrival because the doors began to open only a second later. The sound of the door opening caused the other members of the company to turn towards it.

The Senator of Coruscant came waltzing into the room with her assistant at her side. She wore this white flowy dress that cascaded over her feet and dragged on the floor behind her. The upper half of the dress was more sheer and showed the soft supple skin underneath it. Her hair was tidied back into a braid, which was heavily decorated in small white pearls.

For the first time ever, Hunter heard his own heart skip a beat upon laying eyes on her. His eyes trailed down the length of her form, taking it all in for his own pleasure. He was most certainly thankful to be wearing his helmet.

Though the senator didn't even acknowledge the clones upon her entrance, but this was probably because she was busy hearing what the rest of her schedule looked like for the day from her droid assistant. The clones seemed to watch her movements carefully as she circled around the room to the backside of her desk. Their eyes raked down her body shamelessly, losing themselves in thought for a brief second.

Just as she passed by them, a subtle hint of her scent had followed right behind her. Her scent naturally flowed through the filters of Hunter's helmet and invaded his senses. He closed his eyes to relish the scent of fresh lavender, which was not something you would expect from a senator who lived in a heavy populated city.

"Your final appointment is at three in the afternoon," the droid beeped. He held up the data pad for her, but she waved it off.

"That's fine," Senator Rayna agreed. She stood behind her desk and went to organize a few papers.

Upon hearing her voice, Hunter's ears perked up once more. He wasn't sure why he was so enamored with her. Whether is was the softness of her voice, her mesmerizing appearance, the intoxicating scent of her perfume, or the gentle heartbeat that followed her.

"Right," Senator Rayna sighed loudly. She placed the last stack of papers to the side before finally directing her attention to the clone force. "You must be my new escort," Senator Rayna figured.

"Senator," Commander Cody interjected from the sidelines. Her eyes scanned over each clone carefully. "I'd like to introduce you to the group of clones that's been assigned to you. This is Clone Force 99."

Each of the clones proceeded to remove their helmets. They stuffed their helmets into the underside of their arm. Now, the senator was able to get a good look at them. She realized how differently they looked from your regular ordinary clones. And she was intrigued by this.

"Well, you know who I am so there is no need for introductions there." The Senator rounded the side of her desk to stand in front of the clones. "State your name for me so I know what to call you," Senator Rayna ordered.

"Uh, my name?" Wrecker asked slowly, given that she was looking directly at him.

"You all have one, don't you? All clones are given numbers; although I gathered that most clones prefer to go by names. So what is yours?"

"I'm CT-9902. They call me Wrecker," the clone's deep voice boomed. He smirked down at her. She offered her hand for him to shake, which he did so very carefully because he was afraid to hurt her.

After this, the senator took a single step to the right. She was going to make her way down the line of clones. And she wanted to hear each of their names.

"My designated clone number is CT-9903," Tech replied as a matter-of-factly. He adjusted his glasses. "Otherwise, as known to my brothers, as Tech," he added at the end.

The Senator offered her hand to him as well, which meant he needed to move his data pad to the other hand in order to shake it. He gave her a single nod of approval before she moved down the line again.

The clone trooper didn't say anything. He maintained a defensive stance with his arms crossed across his chest. He also wore a nasty scowl on his face. He truly did not want to be there because he had no interest in politics.

"What is your name soldier?" She questioned him. She tried to figure out what was going behind those eyes if it was anger or distain.

Though Crosshair was far from intimidated by her antics. He felt a slight nudge in his side. He finally spoke. "CT-9904."

"And do you have a name?" She wondered.

"Crosshair," he said reluctantly.

Likewise, the senator chose to say nothing. She gave a single nod understandingly before extending her hand out to him. The only problem was that he didn't take it. So she awkwardly slipped her hand back down to her side and moved on.

"I am CT-1409. I'm Echo," he replied quickly.

"Oh," Senator Rayna perked up. "Not a 99, huh?"

"No ma'am," Echo responded.

"He was originally part of the 501st and served with them for many years. He's the newest addition to this squad," Commander Cody said from the sidelines.

"Pleasure to meet you," Senator Rayna smiled up at him.

The senator went to shake his hand, only to find a scomp link located where his right hand should have been. He had even raised his arm as if wanting to shake her hand as well; he was still getting used to not having a hand.

"Oh," Senator Rayna said defeated. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She cringed at her own actions, wishing she had caught that before she made a fool of herself. "My deepest apologies," she went on.

"Not to worry," Echo reassured her. He saluted her instead with his scomp link.

Now, reaching the end of the lineup, the senator was standing face to face with the leader of the group. She looked up at him with curious eyes. But before he could introduce himself to her, she spoke up first.

"And you must be the sergeant," Senator Rayna concluded. She also took the time to study him carefully.

"CT-9901," Hunter's deep voice sounded from the back of his throat.

The senator raised her eyebrows at him as if mentally requesting for his given name. He realized that he should have also mentioned his name, but he honestly was still lost in his thoughts.

"Hunter," he corrected himself.

"Hunter," Senator Rayna repeated with a small smile on her lips. Her heart started beating just a little faster than normal, which did not go unnoticed. He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I've heard a lot about you."

Upon hearing this, Hunter felt his breath catch in the back of his throat which caused his chest to heave out a little. He straightened his back in posture. He could only wonder what kinds of things she knew about him and his squad.

"Uh senator," the droid spoke up. He glanced between the two of them, expecting them to turn to address him. But they kept their gazes on one another. "I hate to interrupt, but you're going to be late," the droid reminded her.

In response, the senator squeezed her eyes shut. She cursed under her breath. "Blast! How could I forget?"

Without hesitation, Senator Rayna went to collect the stack of papers on her desk. She quickly rifled through them to make sure none of them were missing. She proceeded to spin around on the heels of her feet, walking away from the clones to scurry around the room.

The clones didn't tear their eyes away from her retreating figure, subconsciously peering around one another to keep their gaze on her backside. The commander needed to clear his throat to gather their attention once more. They quickly redirected their focus in front of them.

The droid went to hand her a cloak to put on. She slipped it over her shoulders. She began tying it around her neck. "Where are you heading next, commander?"

"Kiros," Commander Cody stepped forward. "There are talks of surrender. We'll see how it goes. I won't bore you with the details."

"Perhaps we can discuss them at a later time," Senator Rayna agreed. "When I am not running late."

"Senator," Cody saluted her. He excused himself from her presence.

The senator grabbed the last of her things, hastily hanging the pile of papers to her droid. She took the data pad out of the droids hand to check her schedule. She was running very late. Nevertheless, the senator tossed the data pad over to Tech.

"Might be a good idea to make yourself a copy of my schedule to have on hand," Senator Rayna explained to him. He quickly typed in a code which would transfer the information to his own data pad.

"Already on it," Tech confirmed.

"Might I remind you that this is the fifth time you have been late to a meeting this month?" The droid interrupted once more. It slowly moved around the room given it's lack of flexibility.

"I have been a bit preoccupied with other things," the senator waved off. Finally, Senator Rayna stopped what she was doing to address the small squad of clones. "Now, about this meeting..." her voice trailed off.

For a brief second, the Senator of Coruscant wondered how she could explain what she does as a career or what they could expect from this type of job. She felt a wave of anxiety begin to wash over her, being rudely reminded of the threats she faced every day now.

At that moment, Hunter noticed a change in her demeanor. He could hear her heart beating faster and her breathing quickened in pace. She began finding with her fingers nervously to contain her nerves, which did not go unnoticed by the others.

"I am a member of the Loyalist Committee which is headed by The Sepreme Chancellor. The other members are senators or representatives like me. This is an informal meeting; it takes place just upstairs in one of the conference rooms," she informed them.

The senator was talking so rapidly that the others could barely keep up with her. It almost sounded and looked like she was on the verge of having an anxiety attack. And Hunter noticed this immediately.

"Senator," Hunter interjected. She kept talking though.

"In the past, I haven't needed my guards to be present in the room. Things have changed since then. Now...I would feel better -- safer, if at least two of you accompanied me in the meeting. Like I said, it's more of an info--," but she was stopped.

"Senator Rayna," Hunter spoke over her to stop her ranting. His voice wasn't loud, more firm than anything.

Slowly, Hunter took a single step forward to stand an arm's length away from her. He looked down at her with soft eyes, which she found oddly comforting. He heard her heartbeat going back to a normal pace. He sent her a small reassuring smile.

"We are going to protect you," Hunter told her. "Don't worry. You're in good hands."

The ride in the lift felt like it was lasting ages. There was a slight sense of tension in the air given that there were six people basically crammed into the space. In their defense, no lift ride is ever comfortable for an average person.

Facing the door, Senator Rayna stood in the middle with Hunter and Echo standing on either side of her. The other three clones were standing behind them with their backs nearly touching the wall of the lift. The illuminated number continued to change as the lift passed another floor, drawing closer to the final destination. Just a few floors left.

Initially, the senator kept her hands clasped together in front of herself. Her hands mindlessly fell apart, which resulted in her hands shifting back to the respective sides of her body. In the process of this happening, the senator's hand brushed against the back of the sergeant's gloved hand on accident.

Upon contact, the both of them retracted their hands in a slightly awkward fashion. The sergeant shifted on his feet slightly, taking a small step away and mumbling a soft "sorry" through his modulated helmet. Though it was hardly his fault.

In response, the senator sent him a warm smile before directing her line of attention back towards the closed door in front of her. Her hands moved back into the original position in front of herself. She could feel some heat rising to her cheeks, but she figured it would go unnoticed.

Behind them, Tech had watched this slightly awkward encounter with a cocked eyebrow. He was quick to nudge Wrecker who stood beside him.

"Huh?" Wrecker looked down at Tech.

Tech gestured to the sergeant and the senator was a subtle nod of the head in their general direction. So Wrecker took a second to analyze them with his eyes switching back and forth between the two bodies. He didn't catch their encounter so he was rather confused.

"What? What happened?" Wrecker whispered to his brother. Though it wasn't really a whisper, because everyone in the lift heard him.

"Nevermind," Tech sighed with a roll of his eyes.

Finally, the lift had come to stop on the designated floor. The two doors slid open to reveal a vast long corridor. A few people were walking through the corridor which consisted of other members of the senate or personal guards.

It didn't take long for Hunter to sense the uncertainty radiating from the senator standing beside him. He glanced down at her briefly to see the worried expression on her face. For a little encouragement, Hunter placed one hand on her lower back to urge her forward and his other hand gestured to the corridor before her. She gathered her courage with a deep breath, taking the necessary step forward.

Exiting the lift, Hunter and Echo walked on either side of Coruscant's Senator. Right behind them, Wrecker went to follow them but was abruptly stopped when Crosshair placed a single hand on his chest. The much larger clone nearly toppled over his own feet and looked towards his brother for some form of explanation.

"Wouldn't want to step on the senator's dress, would we, Wrecker?" Crosshair teased him. He gestured to the white train that flowed behind her dress and trailed along the floor.

"Oh right," Wrecker agreed while scatching the back of his neck.

The three clones waited until the others had properly exited the lift before finally following them through the corridor. They made sure to be two steps behind so they wouldn't step on the senator's dress.

And Wrecker was relieved that his brother saved him the embarrassment because he couldn't imagine the look on the senator's face if she ever found a large footprint on her white dress.

Walking through the corridor, the escort found themselves quickly becoming the center of attention. It seemed like they continued to receive stares from passing senators or workers from the capital. This was something they were commonly used to, especially back on Kamino. But for some reason, it felt different this time around.

"Sorry about the unwanted attention," Echo said from beside her.

"Hmm? I hadn't noticed," Senator Rayna replied with a small smile on her face. The clones were a little relieved to hear that the senator did not mind in the slightest.

In the short distance, a few clones were striding down the long length of the corridor with blasters in hand. The clone armor that they wore was adorned with red accents, hinting to the fact that they were members of the Coruscant Guard. They were elite clone shock troopers whose main purpose was to protect the Galactic Republic Capital. They were some of the best clones the Republic had to offer.

In passing, the Coruscant Guard took a second to stare at the passing members of Clone Force 99. They nudged each other and gestured to the group of defective clones. Their unnatural appearances always caused them to garner more attention than they would have liked.

"Hey," one of the guards called attention to his buddy standing beside him. He tipped his head to gesture to them. "Get a load of these guys."

"Those guys are clones?" Another clone remarked from the sidelines. "They sure don't look like clones."

Once the Coruscant Guard was out of their line of sight, Crosshair seemed to glance over his shoulder. He seemed to grumble something under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the batch of regs behind them.

"Remind me again why you weren't assigned members from the Coruscant Guard?" Crosshair questioned. It seemed like an obvious choice for an escort given that they were already stationed on Coruscant.

"Because my last guards were part of the Coruscant Guard," Senator Rayna replied flatly. "And they didn't do a great job."

"Fair enough," Crosshair accepted. He almost wanted to chuckle at this because he knew the guard was not nearly as skilled as everyone gave them credit for.

Upon rounding a corner, Senator Rayna halted in her tracks to stand in front of a closed door. The other members of her escort seemed to stop beside her, waiting for her next step. She activated the panel on the right side which opened the door for them. She quickly stepped inside with Hunter and Echo following behind her.

As the door closed, Wrecker and Tech went to stand on either side of the door for the extra added protection. And Crosshair began walking down to corridor to secure the perimeter. Back inside the room, Hunter and Echo took their stops by standing beside one another in the back of the room. Their eyes never leaving the senator's moving figure.

"My apologies for being late," Senator Rayna announced. She went to sit at the head of the table, finding a small stack of papers in her place meant for her. She quickly looked them over.

"No worries, my dear. I'm sure you have plenty of other things on your mind," an older voice spoke from the far side of the table. Raising her head, Senator Rayna's eyes landed on the familiar form of Chancellor Palpatine who was sitting at the head on the other side.

"Right. Now what have I missed?" Senator Rayna questioned. Her eyes shifted between the various senators within the committee, half expecting one of them to catch her up to date since she arrived so late.

On the right side of the table, Bail Organa of Alderaan and Padm�� Amidala of Naboo were sitting beside one another. On the left side of the table, Mon Mothma of Chandrilla and Orn Free Taa of Ryloth had also been apart of this committee. The senators looked to each other in order to see who would speak first.

"We were just discussing the details surrounding the upcoming Gala," Senator Amidala explained.

The Senator of Coruscant proceeded to rifle through the stack of papers in front of her, attempting to find the list of things that still needed to be completed in preparation for the gala.

For a moment, Hunter's gaze seemed to drift towards the window in the large conference room. He studied the buildings across the way carefully, spotting a few unoccupied rooftops. It was the senator's voice which brought him out of his train of thoughts.

"How far out are we again?" Senator Rayna asked.

"Three months," Chancellor Palpatine said rather calmly.

"Are things going accordingly with the planning?" Senator Rayna wondered. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, which caused the senator to look up at them with a confused expression. "What's going on? You've all been acting weird."

The other senators continued to remain silent. However, they looked at each other as if they were all thinking the same thing and were choosing to stay quiet about it. Finally, Bail Organa gathered the courage to speak for the rest of them. He spoke softly and calmly with hopes that it would help soften the blow he was about to deliver.

"We think you should take a hiatus," Bail Organa replied.

"A hiatus? From what?" Senator Rayna asked in utter confusion.

"From your job -- your position as senator of this planet," Chancellor Palpatine added. "Law low for a little bit until things die down."

"I don't need to law low. What I need to do is my job and taking a hiatus will not help me do that," Senator Rayna argued. She rose out of her seat in a furry.

"Y/n," Mon Mmtha interjected. She spoke with a calm voice. "We are worried about you and your wellbeing."

"I have a new escort. They will protect me," Rayna would not drop her argument.

"And the hiatus will only add to that protection," The Supreme Chancellor claimed. He was trying to sound optimistic about the proposition, which only seemed to anger the senator more.

"I have to present a treaty at the end of the quarter. And we vote a week later. I can't miss that," Senator Rayna tried to reason with them.

"It can be pushed back," Chancellor Palpatine suggested. He shrugged his shoulders at the notion, seemingly unfazed by the option of pushing back her speech.

"Til when?" Rayna inquired angrily.

"Indefinitely."

Upon hearing this, Senator Rayna leaned forward to press her hands against the table. She looked the chancellor dead in the eyes from across the room. She wore a stern look on her face.

"I have been working on this treaty for months, changing the littlest of details to make sure it is nothing short of perfect. I applied for the notion to be brought to the senate at the end of the quarter and it was accepted. I am going to present this," Senator Rayna said sternly.

Look back out the window, Hunter saw a small perch on one of the rooftops. He almost wondered if that was a sniper's nest; it would have been a prime location if it had been. With that in mind, Hunter's eyes trailed along the length of the sniper's path. His gaze settled on the wood table in the room. And his stomach dropped.

"E-Echo?" Hunter whispered to his comrade standing beside him.

"What?" Echo said in the quietest voice.

The sergeant was staring directly at what looked like a small nick in the middle of the wooden table. It couldn't have been more than an inch in diameter. There was a small dark circle around it. It had to have been from a blaster shot.

The senator's hands were on either side of said hole. He quickly came to realize that if the sniper had raised his weapon just a little higher, it would have gone right into the senator's head.

"I think this is where it happened," Hunter concluded. Whoever had taken the shot knew what they were doing. They fired a warning shot. At least, that seemed to be the case before they proceeded to take out the guards.

The sergeant's mind was occupied elsewhere. He hadn't been fully listening to the conversation up until now. He tuned his ears into what the chancellor had to say about this. And sure enough, Hunter's suspicious was right.

"Who says you will even be around to present your treaty?" Chancellor Palpatine wondered. "The last time you were in this room -- it did not end well. You could have been killed if your guards had not been there."

It suddenly made sense. The senator was feeling nervous about leaving her office to come here because of what happened the last time she was there. She was still feeling the affects of the incident. And whether she chose to deny it, it was affecting her mental health now.

"We cannot force you to take a hiatus, but we strongly advice it."

"Please Y/n," Senator Amidala said softly from the sidelines. "We don't want you to get hurt."

"I appreciate your concern -- truly I do," Senator Rayna began. She looked over the faces sitting around the table. "But I have to be there for my planet and for my people. You should all understand that."

"We do," Senator Organa nodded his head in agreement.

"Then let me do my job," Senator Rayna pleaded her case one final time. Her eyes shown with sympathy.

With great hesitation, the other senators looked towards one another in a form of silent communication. A few of them seemed to nod their heads gently as if to say they will allow the senator to operate as she always had been. Finally, The Supreme Chancellor reluctantly gave her his approval in the form of a short and curt nod of the head.

"Very well," Chancellor Palpatine agreed. He sent her a smile. "Continue as you were, senator."

By the end of the meeting, a majority of the members had gone their separate ways since their schedules differed. Now, it seemed like only Senator Organa, Senator Amidala, and Senator Rayna remained in the room. While the Senator of Alderaan went to speak with the newest escort, Senator Amidala went to stand beside her best friend and greeted her with a warm smile. The two young women began talking amongst themselves.

On the other side of the room, Senator Organa went to talk to Hunter and Echo. He took the time to shake both of their hands in greeting and introduced himself to them.

"You must be Clone Force 99," Bail Organa noted.

"We are two fifths of them," Echo claimed. "The others are right outside."

"I was the one to reach out to General Kenobi and Commander Cody about finding Senator Rayna a new escort. I've heard a lot of things about your squad," Senator Organa replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"All good things, I hope." Hunter wondered.

"You know your own reputation better than anyone. You tell me," Senator Organa stated. He quirked his eyebrow at the two clone troopers in front of him. They remained silent because he did bring up a good point.

Looking over his shoulder, Bail Organa looked towards the two senators talking to each other. His eyes softened upon seeing how the two of them interacted with each other. While they were best friends, he always thought they acted more like sisters (though they actually got along with each other). He felt a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"She's a handful, that one. Once she sets her mind on something, she won't back down easily. One of the most stubborn people I know," Bail chuckled to himself.

Neither Hunter or Echo doubted that. They had just witnessed how stubborn she could be in their meeting and how she refused to take a hiatus despite the fact that her life was on the line. However, was it stubbornness or selflessness?

For a brief moment, Hunter found himself following his line of sight until it landed on the senator. She seemed so carefree; her face was radiating with beams of happiness. Her lips turned upwards into a smile and her laugh echoed over to them.

"I won't tell you how to do your job," Bail Organa returned to their conversation. He looked between the two clones. "But can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Of course, senator." Hunter nodded his head.

"Be mindful of her. She's gone through a lot recently and she's grown more sensitive to her surroundings. She doesn't sleep most nights in fear of what may happen when she closes her eyes," Senator Organa claimed.

Slowly, Hunter's eyes drifted back to the senator standing in front of him. He saw the gentlest and kindness in his eyes. He could tell by the tone of his voice that he cared deeply for his fellow senator. But then things turned more solemn.

"She's like the daughter I never had," Bail's voice was laced with a heavy sense of sadness. "If anything should happen to her--"

"We know, senator." Hunter interjected. He placed a hand on the senator's shoulder. "We'll try our hardest to take care of her for you."

"Thank you," Bail gave a nod of appreciation.

Across the length of the room, Senator Amidala and Senator Rayna caught up with each other. They had spent some time apart. While one was traveling the galaxy, the other was strictly confined to the planet for her safety. It truly felt like eternity since they had last seen one another.

"I heard Senator Organa reached out to General Kenobi for assistance," Senator Amidala began. "Did he travel alone or--"

"He was accompanied by Commander Cody," Senator Rayna explained. The corners of her lips tugged into a mischievous all-knowing smirk. "His Padawan was not with him if that's what you're wondering," Senator Rayna added.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Senator Amidala scoffed awkwardly. She shook her head at her friend's ridiculous comment.

"Oh please," Senator Rayna sighed. She rolled her eyes. "You think I don't notice how you are constantly asking about him and pining over him."

"I do not!" Padmé scolded her.

"You do know that it is forbidden for the jedi to form attachments," Senator Rayna tried to talk some reason into her friend. She knew that there was some unspoken thing going on between them, but she didn't know the details of it.

"Enough about me," Padmé quickly dismissed the conversation with a wave of her hand. "What about you?"

"Me? What about me?" Y/n scoffed slightly.

"Isn't there someone you are pining over yourself?" Senator Amidala wondered. She cocked an eyebrow at her in a suggestive manner.

"No, I am not pining over someone." Senator Rayna shook her head in denial. "I'm a little bit occupied with other matters at the moment."

From across the room, Hunter's highly sensitive ears had picked up their conversation unbeknownst to them. He turned his head ever so slightly to be more in tune. He felt his heart flutter once again in his chest.

Finally, Senator Amidala and Senator Rayna went to leave the room by walking beside one another. The others made sure to follow behind them. They entered into the corridor to be met by the rest of the squad.

"Perimeter is secure," Tech relayed to his sergeant. Hunter gave a curt nod of acceptance. "The shuttle is ready for departure whenever the senator sees fit."

Now Hunter and Echo had shifted to stand beside their brothers in the corridor. The senators had directed their line of attention to view the small squad of soldiers. They certainly did not look like your regular batch of clones. Their armor didn't even match the traditional white with hinted colored accents. It was more of a dark grey color and was accompanied with hinted red accents.

Not only did each of their helmets mismatch, but so did their physical appearance. The one near the back was a literally giant, two of the others were tall and lanky, the other one looked more like a droid, and the last one had broad shoulders and a strong built. Just by looking at them, one could tell that there was something off and that they were genetically enhanced.

"Ma'am," Hunter drew the senator's attention. "Whenever you are ready."

The Senator of Coruscant nodded her head understandingly. She quickly gave a brief farewell to her fellow senators. The clones saluted the other senators as a form of respect. The senator proceeded to walk back down the long length of the corridor with her new clone escort following right behind her.

Meanwhile, Senator Organa and Senator Amidala watched their retreating figures with keen eyes. They saw how their associate interacted with this new batch of rogue clones. She didn't seem to mind or question their abnormalities. At first, Senator Rayna had been hesitant to ask for help from the jedi and was uncertain about having a clone escort. But now, things seemed to have changed her mind. And the senators wanted to know why.

CHAPTER THREE HERE

Taglist:

@totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina @arcsimper5 @queenofspades6 @cadihyo @jediknightjana

[mitigatedchaos]

I've been mentally categorizing you as a pretty clean example of the 'new right'; editorializing with 'extreme' feels like it's giving more heat than light but w/e. It's very clear in the associative sense (you hang out with people on the right), in the stylistic sense (your writing is easy to match with the Moldbug, Land, ZHPL cluster), and in the operational sense (you critique the left primarily and the right only parenthetically).

And like, at the end of the day, your overriding issue of concern is to codify racial differences as beyond the scope of policy intervention. Whatever else you want it to be, that project is and always has been a keystone of the right's ideological basis and coalition-building.

When I was a child, in the year 2000, the Human Genome Project took 13 years and cost $2.7 billion just to sequence the human genome. Now that costs less than $1,000. Genetic engineering was science fiction.

In 2017, the FDA approved the first commercial gene therapy, Kymriah. It costs $475,000. If monogenic gene therapy costs $500,000 in 2020 and declines in cost by half every 5 years, then by 2035 it costs $62,500, and by 2050 it will cost around $7,800.

I recently posted a criticism of Hitler, and I'll bring up part of it because it's relevant here - Hitler apparently thought the world was going to be consumed by Malthusian total war, and that the only thing to do was to win. However, in many developed countries the fertility rate has been below replacement since around 1973, or for about fifty years as of 2024.

World War 2 started in 1939. Hitler killed millions of people. 1973 was a mere 34 years away.

The BAPism cluster is implicitly based on the biocapital meltdown theory. Its logical conclusion would be a return to pre-industrial mortality rates. In terms of actual science, at least one researcher said that it's a mystery how mutational load hasn't killed us 10 times over already - that amount of uncertainty is not a sound foundation for radical policy.

The Social Justice cluster are based on a theory of social causes, but their social approach doesn't work and the social interventions we do have are relatively weak and tend to fade out. Despite this, they want a system of formal racial benefits and penalties throughout all of society, and prefer to use one particular race as their moral dumping ground for all problems. They're the kind of people that would sabotage hiring for air traffic controllers.

Neither philosophy is based on a realistic assessment of the situation. Both are based on despair over genetic fatalism.

I'll go over 4 possible future cases, the relationship between the Rationalists and what you call the "New Right," and some of what I think will happen to the coalitions in 10-20 years.. (Total post is ~2,600 words.)

And like, at the end of the day, your overriding issue of concern is to codify racial differences as beyond the scope of policy intervention. Whatever else you want it to be, that project is and always has been a keystone of the right's ideological basis and coalition-building.

We already paid the staggering oppression setup costs for the 2008 world system. It's a sunk cost. Now is not a good time to engage in a radical political program involving much higher oppression, suffering, or material costs on the basis of very limited evidence.

Let's talk about the possibilities. When it comes to the things people complain about, there are basically three possibilities: { mostly_genetic, partly_genetic, barely_genetic } As for the genetics industry, we can treat it as having two possibilities: { improvement, stasis }

Genes and the environment are not actually independent. I work based on a theory of compounding capability. Someone with a higher ability can take better advantage of positive events ("positive shocks," such as a scholarship or inheritance), and has more options to mitigate the downsides of negative events ("negative shocks," such as a fire or illness).

Someone's genes influence the environment which they create around themselves, and the environment influences just what they can accomplish with those genes.

So we can actually collapse the first set of possibilities into just two: { partly_genetic, barely_genetic }. We can basically break the situation down into four cases.

(barely_genetic, stasis): It turns out that the genetics industry is a one-trick pony and can only cure a few terrible genetic diseases, and for no cheaper than $500,000 a pop. However, this is a different situation than the one we're in now. Currently, we have about 50 years of social interventions with relatively little to show for it. If in 2050, the genetics industry can only influence (and predict) some very narrow/minor stuff, then we'll have 30 years of mucking about with genetics with relatively little to show for it. At that time, it would be more reasonable to consider radical politics. (Though actually effective radical policy might look quite different from what contemporary progressives would imagine.)

(partly_genetic, stasis): In this scenario, it turns out that the genetics industry is not that bad at predicting things using genetics, but actually influencing them proves much more difficult for some reason. This seems like a rather unlikely combination, but was one of the sources of fear of genetics in the 90s and '00s - genetics could only show you someone's doom, and thus couldn't save anyone, only be used as a rationalization to leave some people to suffer and die.

By now, some of you have probably realized what the joke behind the #librx posts is. Just because we're in such an incredibly inconvenient scenario doesn't mean we need to let BAP deploy bodybuilder death squads that hunt fat people for sport. Both the bloodgild (vampire prison), and admitting college students based on their test scores per calorie, are fairly ridiculous policies. But if we take reactionary assumptions about underlying conditions, that doesn't necessarily mean we can't create more soft-touch policies than reactionaries would prefer.

(barely_genetic, improvement): This is not far from the scenario envisioned by sterile, party-line New York Times Futurism. In this scenario, the genetics industry enables us to cure a variety of health problems, but shows little ability to influence the things that people complain about.

From a policy development perspective, this puts us in an improved position compared to where we are right now. A powerful ability to manipulate genetics makes it much easier to determine what is not genetic, and thus makes it easier to narrow our search for successful social policy.

(partly_genetic, improvement): This is a new era. Three things.

1 - If genes are significant driver of performance, then the ability to alter genes allows us to use money to buy increased performance. This means that resource transfers are single-round and possibly even a net economic investment, and not just a moral or political benefit we're buying with our economic surplus.

Right now our means to convert money into performance are limited.

2 - Due to compounding capabilities, if genes drive performance, and we can alter genes, then this frees up potential for success with social policy. Suppose someone is a drug addict who has a genetic propensity for drug addiction. (This is a made-up example.) If the biological risk of drug addiction is changed (and this is a big if), then the ability of a rehab program to not only get this guy off of drugs, but keep him off of drugs, is improved.

3 - One of the primary arguments for cruel right-wing policy is conservation of scarce genetic capital. This does not completely eliminate such arguments, because it's necessary to retain a corps of personnel to maintain the necessary biomedical equipment, and to maintain a society that can continue to field this industry. However, such arguments are dramatically reduced in scope, and shifted towards things like reproductive alignment, prevention of excessive reliance on capital-intensive systems of reproduction, and other future bioconservatism.

This scenario is likely to introduce all sorts of new problems, including a new ideological mania where people insist that society has to be perfect, so natural reproduction must be outlawed and some genes must be made illegal. (Maintaining human freedom in this new high-energy, high-capital equilibrium will require new ideological development.)

It's very clear in the associative sense (you hang out with people on the right), in the stylistic sense (your writing is easy to match with the Moldbug, Land, ZHPL cluster), and in the operational sense (you critique the left primarily and the right only parenthetically).

The position of Scott Alexander circa 2013-2014 was that the current rate of gene burn does not constitute an emergency as technology is likely to change the game within 100 years, and that biological causes (in general) are not frightening because they seem likely to be easier to deal with than social causes. In 2017, he argued that people shouldn't worry too much about their personal aptitude test scores.

Mitigatedchaos is to the right of the median capital-R Rationalist - most of them are committed to the Democratic Party, and quite a few here wouldn't agree with my opinions on polyamory or borders. Mitigatedchaos has an overall more conservative portfolio than the typical 2014 rationalist on a number of metrics, including on bioconservatism ("reproductive alignment" being one example).

(A 2014 Rationalist, of course, would find describing beliefs as a "portfolio" (along with other investment terms) to be quite intuitive.)

Nonetheless, stalling for time until the genetics industry comes online is one of the positions that is mainstream within the rationalists.

What do Mencius Moldbug, Nick Land, and Zero HP Lovecraft all have in common? Imagination.

Take technology. Change it. Does that change other aspects of society?

If you are Ted Chiang of the New York Times, this is inconceivable to you. The Democratic Party has a position and a coalition right now, therefore the Democratic Party will have that same position and coalition forever. The work of futurism is merely to tell readers of the New York Times that they will believe the same things in 2050 that they believe right now.

What do Robin Hanson, Scott Alexander, Mencius Moldbug, Nick Land, and Zero HP Lovecraft all have in common?

They have a tendency to view the world in terms of dynamic systems (rather than static ones) and evolutionary dynamics. This is the kind of person who can think of an organization becoming misaligned, or organizational linkage limits, or limitations resulting from information processing and transmission. Or think of "coordination problems" as their own thing. You know, like in Meditations on Moloch.

With a few exceptions, the left coalition haven't done much interesting ideological work since the second term of the Obama Administration. It's largely conflict theorist stuff for winning interpersonal and institutional conflicts, shutting down criticism, and gaining power. No more "creating a free society through digital media piracy;" now it's all guns and bombs and knives and everything has to be tied in to the central narrative conflict about identity.

It's difficult to learn about a system when it's all functioning smoothly. It's when a system breaks that you start really learning about the internals. Compared to 2008, in some sense the left coalition's ideology-forming system is "broken," or more compressed into a particular, narrow range.

As a political theorist, I've learned a lot.

I learn from Social Justice by watching the conflict and then synthesizing theory about it. Watching events like, "It's inequitable and therefore racist to teach algebra to 8th graders," tells us a lot about political maneuvering, coalitions, and ideology, but the actual idea itself is just flat bad. It's observational, like a zoologist studying animal behavior in the wild.

This is different from how I relate to the Rationalists or what you call the "New Right." Both Scott and I understood the theory of racism as self-perpetuating, as every sufficiently smart liberal would have back in 2008. There, the relationship is more horizontal.

There's a crossover or flow of ideas or concepts between the Rationalists/Post-Rationalists and the "New Right" because they're the two major groups on the public Internet studying or inventing theory in a way that's of much interest, currently. (The exceptions mostly aren't far from the neighborhood, here. The actual community of people having these ideological or philosophical discussions is smaller than we would have naively expected back in 2008.)

In 2017, Scott published a review of Seeing Like A State, which focused on the concept of legibility (which I sometimes speak of in terms of "dimensionality;" this is an immensely powerful concept that has guided some of my thinking on the nature of capital). This is of interest if you're a "New Right" person or a smart liberal.

For the right-wingers, it's interesting because it sets limits on the appropriate scope and nature of state power.

For the smart liberals, it's interesting because it's part of the set of much more advanced arguments for liberalism based on the limits to obtaining and processing information, and the limits of what can be known, similar to the economic calculation problem.

But if you're Social Justice, then you want to flatten everyone into a limited number of legible categories, so that you can discriminate against them to "correct" "for past injustices."

To take it back out to the conflict analysis level again, Social Justice's actions aren't that interesting at the object level. However, criticisms about "what isn't captured in the metrics" would have been a more advanced critique back in like, 2010. From the conflict analysis perspective, this suggests that the body of ideology is changing in its interpretation as it moves into the hands of different people, which suggests different motivations and different levels of capability.

That is interesting. "How many bits of complexity can our ideology support, and how does it handle under compression?" is an interesting question both for right-wingers and smart liberals.

and in the operational sense (you critique the left primarily and the right only parenthetically).

Republicans can't even manage to produce enough professional-class personnel to staff the government without having to rely on like 30% Democrats (there's a chart somewhere about this).

A lot of assertions that the right wing have power are based on observing things that aren't necessarily caused by the right wing and concluding that the right wing intended for these things to happen, and therefore caused them, and therefore have an immense amount of power.

There is basically no risk of BAPism coming into actual power over the next 20 years.

Social Justice and the broader left coalition choking the genetics industry to death before it can come online, though? That's just assuming that they apply the same playbook to it that they apply to every other industry. (Imagine if they fucked it up as bad as housing is fucked in California.)

If smarter liberals within the coalition were going to stop them, then why haven't they stopped them already?

Between the right-wingers and the left-wingers, the right-wing ideas are generally more immoral or crueler but more functional, while the left-wing ideas are more moral on the surface but are anti-functional.

Think of reduced environmental restrictions vs "degrowth."

We've had social conservatism before, and liberalized out of it. Given that [the left have more power] × [their ideas are more destructive], yes, I primarily criticize the left and criticize the right less often and less severely at this time. I could make a pretty sophisticated argument against a number of right-wing ideas, but that's not really of benefit right now.

In the medium term, it makes sense to align with the right-wingers for the next 10-20 years, as growth in the genetics industry is fueled by the immense demand for near-miraculous cures.

After that medium term, it's much less clear what happens. At some point between 2030 and 2045, different questions within the field of genetics are going to undergo partisan polarization, and it's likely that the makeup of the two coalitions (as well as their ideology) will change.

As we saw from the coronavirus, partisan polarization is unpredictable and varies based on the initial state of the system and the order in which an idea is passing through a coalition. Observing it in action is quite the argument against maintaining a high partisan alignment.

Anyhow, I think you can call mitigatedchaos "right-wing," but I put way too much effort into hedging everything to call it "extreme right." It's about as far to the right as a lot of people are willing to read, as if it were a cottage right next to the jurisdictional border, with a big sign next to it marking out the border line, reading "Right-Wing Beyond This Point."

[valtionrautatiet-official]

I've been meaning to ask, all of VR's locomotives seem to be named SrXX, SvXX, DrXX, ...

What does the prefix (Sr, Sv, Dr, ...) mean? Presumably its something along the lines of "Diesel Locomotive" in Finnish or something, but I'd love to know!

You got it very close! I was going to make a detailed entry about the different systems that have been in use (as there have been three different ones for locomotives over the years, plus a separate one for multiple units), but entirely forgot. So I'll just do it here.

In the current system (taken into use in 1976):

The first (capitalised) letter is the (primary) power source D for diesel S for sähkö (electric)

The second (lowercase) letter signifies axle weight: k (kevyt) light loco of less than 11 metric tons per axle (there are currently no k locos) v (väliraskas) midweight loco of 11-16 metric tons r (raskas) is heavy locomotive of more than 16 metric tons

Multiple units follow a similar system, except the lowercase letter is always m for moottorivaunu, motorized carriage.

The numbers should theoretically just be a running numbering, but this only holds true for electric locos. The diesel numbering is a mess with gaps and numbers not being in consecutive order (the numbering started with Dr12, there never was a Dr17, and Dr20, Dr21 and Dr35 all predate Dr19).

Then to make things more complex, in 1942-75 a different system was in use where the first letter signified what types of trains the locomotive was primarily designed to haul.

H for henkilöjuna (passenger train) T for tavarajuna (freight train) S for sekajuna (mixed train, though this came to mean mixed use towards the end) P for paikallisjuna (local/commuter train) V for vaihtoveturi (shunter)

In practice pretty much all locos except for the V's were mixed use ones already during the steam era: for example the Pr2 local traffic locos were mostly used to haul long-distance express trains and occasionally did freight trains too. For diesels, the flagship locos were classed as Hr's (even when they could not be used to haul passenger trains, as was initially the case with the Hr13), but apart from shunters all other locos were simply classified as S's. It's also maybe amusing that the first electric locos were delivered under the old system as Sr1 (mixed-use heavy loco 1), and kept the same designation under the new system, thanks to Finnish having an invented word for electricity that also begins with an S.

At the same time with the changeover to the current system they also changed the breakpoint between v and r, resulting in Sr12 (mixed use heavy loco) becoming Dv12 (diesel midweight loco). I sometimes wonder if there will be another overhaul once the last Dv12 is retired, as apart from those locos all in-use Finnish locos are in the r weight. Should we change the "borders" between the different weights again, or maybe just change the small letter to v for veturi (locomotive) to differentiate from the m for multiple units?

Finally, up to 1942 loco classes were given a single capital letter and a running number based on the wheelbase (which I think is/was the system also used in Sweden). And for whatever reason letters A through F were recycled for new wheelbases at different times, but we never went through the full alphabet; R was the last letter to be taken to use.

[510amy5]

On April 8 I got to experience something absolutely incredible: a total solar eclipse. Its hard to express just how exciting this was for me but here goes.

I have always loved space, ever since I was a kid. I played the Magic School Bus planets game, I read about how the moon affects our tides, I learned how to make a pin hole projector for watching a partial solar eclipse at 5 years old. I started learning constellations (my fav has always been Cassiopeia) and could find north using the stars by the time I was 8. When I was 10, our family Christmas gift was a very large and fancy telescope. Suddenly I was no longer limited to my naked eyes. We spent a couple nights a week all summer looking at anything interesting we could find in the night sky. I learned to use a star chart, locate the planets on the ecliptic and of course operate our telescope (which was powerful enough that the rotation of earth was noticeable over the course of a couple mins). This is when I came up with my space bucket list.

Some items were ones I saw before the list was created, but they were amazing and helped inform my items yet to be experienced.

Space things I've seen:

Rocks on the moon

Craters on mars

Rings of Saturn

Jupiter's spot

Binary star system

Total lunar eclipse

The international space station (through telescope)

Moons around Mars, Jupiter and Saturn

Venus transit of the sun

Total solar eclipse

Space things I want to see:

Shuttle launch

Aurora borealis

Rings of Neptune

An asteroid

A comet

I was over the moon (pun intended) when I found out that I was near the path of totality for this eclipse. 20 mins drive to move an item from the bottom list to the top one. That's what this started as for me, a box to check and an opportunity to say "that was cool".

So I drove with my parents and my baby and we setup our lawn chairs at the community centre in the town south of us. Its a tiny, middle of nowhere town where everything closes on Sundays and they only have 1 traffic light. Suddenly it was on the map as people traveled in to experience the eclipse. It felt like a big picnic with people chatting and sitting out with their families, pulling out their special glasses every few moments to look up.

I watched as the moon sliced away at the sun. Bit by bit the light got darker and weirder and the temperature dropped. It was exciting but there was also something viscerally unsettling about it. My mind knew this was fun but my body knew something was WRONG. The sun is such an easy thing to take for granted. Its always there, shining away just the same. But when something so fundamental changes, your body notices. This was a duality of experience I never expected.

Then we finally reached the point of totality. This was the moment I had been waiting for, my check box experience. But it was way more than just cool. The world went dark, street lights coming on and birds breaking out in sudden confused song. The people around me cheered and hugged. And I, as I so often have before, I looked up. Understanding the mechanics of an eclipse and having it described couldn't come close to what I was now looking at. I expected a hole in the sky but you could still see the outline of the moon. Not like a "ring of fire" eclipse, but just because the sun puts out that much light and power. The tendrils of the corona reached as far into space as the sun was wide, waved and curled into lines way more organic than the sun beams I always imagined. I had heard the corona was going to make a good show due to this year being the solar maximum but that was an understatement. It was like being on an alien planet orbiting a weird star. I took a quick video for a friend and then just soaked up the moment. Totality only lasts a couple mins and too soon a diamond spark appeared on the edge. No longer safe to look at. We donned our glasses and just stared in awe. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

Other groups started to pack up around us. We waited though, watching as the sun slowly regained purchase in the sky. The birds stopped singing, the light normalized. I changed my baby's diaper before we hopped in the car to drive home.

In history and media, a total eclipse is often seen as the beginning of the apocalypse or an omen of some kind and I can see why. It is an experience so alien and rare that it must have some deeper meaning right? I agree. In my case however, what I see is the beauty of God's creation. I see all the factors that lined up to give me the gift of this experience and I see His hand. Now I sit and work to find the words to convey an indescribable event, hoping I can share some of this experience. I can only hope I live to see this sight again.

[captawesomesauce]

For the asks, 15, 24, 45!

15 Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Huh…. you know… I don't. In fact, I don't think I have ever had a house plant in my entire life. Mom had outdoor plants, Sally had a little herb garden, and that was it. It's never really been a thing for us.

Are you a good driver?

The simple answer is yes.

When I was learning to drive, I only went out with an instructor 3 times and then took my test. He said after the 3rd time, I was ready. Of course, the first time we drove together, we almost died… so… ya know.. there's that.

My truck was an old 87 S-10, so about 10 years old, and over 100k miles on it. It was an old work truck and had been beaten up hard. So I'm driving it for the first time with the instructor, and we're doing about 45-50 approaching a T intersection with a lot of cross traffic. The problem is that when I went to press on the brake, the accellerator sunk to the floor and wouldn't come up! It was STUCK down and we were speeding up faster and faster and the intersection was getting closer and closer! I tried to dislodge it with my toe, I put all of my weight on the brakes, and even the instructor tried reaching down to grab it with his hand, but there just wasn't enough time to really do anything!!!

I ended up going wide right and yanking the wheel left, through the red light, and missing everyone coming crossways!!! Tires screeching and truck shaking the whole way!

As soon a we were going straight, he had got the pedal free and all he said was "Good job, and make a right at the next light." Totally fucking calm about it.. and that's what I did.

Next time we went out we worked on parking and the final time was freeway driving. After that I took the test lol.

But I still hate driving, absolutely despise it. Short distances, long distances… major hate. I always have. I never even wanted to get my license, but that wasn't an option lol.

I've driven a lot of different things over the years… a big Chevy 3500 crew cab, an old 87 and later 2003 Chevy S-10, a corvette for a while… but I love my Murano. I love the warning/safety systems, the radar cruise control, the radar side warnings, the automatic braking… but most of all I LOVE THE 4 WAY CAMERAS!!!!!

JFC, I'll never buy a car without them again. They make parking and driving so much easier.

When W and I first met, one of the things that made her feel really comfortable with me is that I drove safely and while not slow-as-fuck, I'm not big on going too high over the speed limit. The rule of never go faster than you're willing to pay for always rings true! lol. So I go with the flow, get there when I get there, and tend to not be too risky with the suicide lefts we have here in SoCal. I don't mind waiting for the next light, and if I can't merge in time, I am ok with exiting later if I have to. It is what it is.

Do you have good handwriting?

BWAHAHAHHHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHA OH FUCK HAHAHWHAWAHAHHAHWAAAAAAAAA

That's a good one.

I'm dysgraphic! I can barely write at all!!!

Holding a pen/pencil, even the special ones for people like me, causes intense pain in my hand and arm and headaches like you wouldn't believe.

For those who have never heard of dysgraphia, it's the little unknown brother to dyslexia. Dyslexic's have trouble reading, we have trouble writing and with fine motor skills.

In my case, I have to spend every bit of energy I have just willing my hands to create the letters, one by one. In school, back in the day, and before I was diagnosed, I would spend so much effort writing the first few words of a sentence, that I would lose my train of thought, or lose my place in the thought so that you have the start of one sentence, and the end of a sentence way later in what should have been a paragraph. My letters rarely are uniform in size/shape, often mixing capitals and lower case for what ever is easier to write, and of course the biggest issue is that I don't actually control my hands like y'all do. They LITERALLY have a mind of their own. I want to write an E… maybe I'll get a Q. Why? No idea.. hand wrote a Q.

So yeah, it's a bitch!

It was made worse by the fact that my mother was a legal secretary and believed good penmanship was CRUCIAL to success in life. Oof. She made me practice and practice and practice… I still have a callous on my finger from it. All it did was make me hurt like hell. Hand pain, arm pain, headaches… she just said keep writing!

That … wasn't fun at all.

In fact, it wasn't until I started college that I was diagnosed! I even went back to my HS teachers and asked them why didn't they say anything and they all said the same thing, "We thought you knew!!!"

Well, I didn't. lol But that's why I gravitated toward computers so much as a child and could type over 100wpm at an early age.

But yeah, no… my handwriting is atrocious and if you ever saw my signature, you'd laugh.

Thanks @southcarolinagoddess for the questions!

[regicide1997]

A recent thing I've been doing in my free time is looking at maps of the interstate system in and around my city and figuring out which exits and on-ramps could potentially have bus stops implemented. For example, take this diamond interchange where I-465 crosses Pendleton Pike:

That painted triangle could become a bus stop, and the extra turn lane could become either a bus-only lane or a left turn only except buses lane. The crosswalk will need better visibility, too, but it already needs that anyway. There's already a stop light at that intersection, so if we make it a bus-only lane, there's room for a bus-specific stop light.

However, some interchanges don't work for this, and others require a bit of thought. For one thing, system interchanges are out of the question: there'd be no place for a bus to stop, and regardless, pedestrian traffic is forbidden on the interstate. However, even for service interchanges, things aren't always straightforward. This partial cloverleaf at I-465 and N Keystone Ave requires using the oblong roundabout at 96th Street for traffic from either direction to return to the interstate:

This partial cloverleaf where I-70 meets Keystone/Rural might work for eastbound traffic, but not for westbound without making a U-turn or something like that further north:

[reveregret]

i kind of hate the systems i have around posting. checking every single note i get takes up so much time when a post becomes popular. i can't post anything new until i sort through all of that or the traffic dies down. i have to post asks in chronological order, so if i haven't finished the first one i can't go to another. i'm incredibly lucky i managed to get out of the habit of not doing anything except write until i finished my responses. i used to feel the need to get everything out asap to match the submission date as closely as possible, despite saving it in a separate location regardless.

my darling has criticised me for these things before and i have to agree with her. it's compulsive and unproductive. it's unnecessary stress to have these rigid rules. i want to try breaking away from this but it's been so ingrained for the past few years. it's how i've always used tumblr. other sites as well, but the extent is not nearly as drastic. so much of my day to day is simply arbitrary routines that i've imposed upon myself. it's difficult to break out of because whenever i don't fulfil these obligations it's like the world is falling apart. i've damaged a fragile ecosystem and there's no way it could ever recover from any slip-up, right?

this is such a huge reason that stalking got so out of hand before. it became a lineup of tasks, done a certain way, done a certain order, don't get caught, learn all that you can. i had to understand everything possible about someone and i'd develop habits in my attempts to learn about them.

i knew obsessive was a well-fitting term for everything i felt and did, but that definition has taken on a new meaning after my darling reframed many of the issues i'd dealt with. at that point, i never told her about anything i would put on this blog. her own experiences managed to shed a new light on my own. so even though it was directed at unrelated instances in my life, everything i'd boiled down to being an experience with bpd was something i had to reevaluate.

not to say it's not bpd, just that there was more to it than i'd realised. if anything, it goes hand in hand, being a common comorbidity and all. turns out i struggle with ocd too. i was already conscious of this but i never really accepted how it actually played into my life. i mean, acknowledging it just put a spotlight on what was wrong with me, and i didn't want to worry about that more than i already did. i panic enough about my mental state as it is.

even writing this is difficult. i started this as a means to justify my absence. if i don't post something now i'm going to cease to exist. i have to reread every single paragraph, restructure it to reduce as much error as possible and make sure it flows correctly and i didn't completely misstate my intent. i write more than i need to so that no detail is forgotten, sometimes reiterating throughout to ensure further. running a blog and remaining active with all of these expectations i have for myself is difficult to keep up with.

sometimes i don't know why i bother with these personal posts. maybe to humanise myself and be more personally relatable to my followers? maybe to make my blog more than just a masquerade? that's how it started, after all. my main blog could've been enough, but i made a side blog with a new personality to see what difference it would make. even though i gave it up a good while ago, having a space dedicated to specific thoughts makes it define me a little.

i can already tell you exactly who is likely acknowledge this post directly and who isn't, and around how long it may take. i keep track of patterns more than is good for me. not just mentally, but keeping a physical record of everything i do and how others around me interact with each other or myself. the interconnectedness of each detail. it used to be worse while i still wrote every little thing down, but it still festers in other ways. i've been trying to let go, yet everything i miss feels like i'm destroying a part of my own existence.

i don't know if anyone will connect to this post in particular, but i hope it helps someone feel less alone in the way some of my other posts do. i didn't realise how much i needed someone to understand me in this way until i had it. as scary as it is to not give in to any of these thoughts, it makes all the difference. turns out it's pretty nice not worrying about suddenly dying if i step in the wrong place lol

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

TW - COCSA, SA, mention of parental figures with life threatening conditions and mental issues, mention of attempted kidnapping (1/3) Mostly a vent, but also looking for advice. Sorry this is long, but I'd honestly just feel better having someone read this. Tall order, I know, sorry in advanced. My case was textbook COCSA between young peers. We were six, and he would pressure me into oral on several occasions. I said no several times on several occasions but he would use guilt tripping, emotional manipulation. Threatened not to be my friend, threatened to tell on me and get me in trouble, which sounds like nothing but to me was everything. Told me its just what "girls and boys do" or would just keep asking until I did what he said. He would have his friend watch then tease me when I did it and would make me cry on at least one occasion, and he laughed. He got me to bite it and the feeling was horrible and I still feel it in my mouth. I remember being disgusted then, and still feel that same disgust now. Embarrassed too. This continued until I was 7 at varying frequencies. I understand his threats seem like nothing to an adult, but to a child they felt very real, like my world was ending. The threats of abandonment terrified me cos I only had one other friend, had ADHD thus rejection sensitivity, and I had experienced trauma surrounding fear of losing my loved ones already, my father having a life threatening condition at the time and my mother with mental issues where she would threaten suicide and leave the house after saying so for hours at a time amongst other scary things. He didn't know the latter two stuff but did know I was bullied a lot, he manipulated me, and coerced me. I never wanted to do that stuff. Not to mention, the behaviour was extremely developmentally abnormal as penetrative acts between children that age is not considered normal even if its just oral. I'd argue there was a power difference too since I was developmentally behind my peers in terms of cognation and social skills, and he had more knowledge on this stuff than me. He learnt it from porn, but I suspect an adult may have abused him too since he used very "adult groomer like" language when trying to convince me. I don't even blame him, he was more like a bully than an abuser. But I do blame the adults who hurt him and thus me indirectly, and the adults who knew what he was doing to me but did nothing.

Here's my conundrum though. I've looked at the Brooks traffic light tool. I'm in the red. I looked at the continuum of sexually harmful behaviours from Hackett (2010 model I believe), what I experienced is firmly in the "abusive" section. I used the Sensoa Flag System and aside from the ages being off with both children being 10 instead of both 6-7, there was a scenario described in the textbook that was EXACTLY my situation that was in the red, abusive behaviours section. And an added note that if the coercion occured on more than one occasion, it was actually BLACK FLAG behaviour. By all professional measures of this type of abuse, it's abuse. The therapists, psychologists, police, etc, that I've spoken to all told me its a form of sexual abuse/CSA. Yet I always feel that my abuse does not count or isn't as serious as the abuses of others. I feel guilt seeking help from rape charities or specialist counselling services specifically for CSA survivors even when the councillors from those services tell me I have a right to be there. I feel guilt calling myself a "CSA survivor". I feel the need to specify I experienced "COCSA" when I talk about it, but then I need to explain what COCSA is to those who don't know... and then usually I feel the need to explain the intricacies of COCSA and the specifics of my situation to validate to them that what happened to me, for all intents and purposes, was sexual abuse. And its exhausting when I am just trying to go into a space to vent with other SA survivors, that this was the worst thing I've experienced and needing to justify that. I have experienced SA as an adult but that barely effects me these days in comparison to the fucking carnage the COCSA caused me. Not to mention the other traumatic experiences I've had in childhood and adulthood, including emotional abuse and even attempted kidnapping. COCSA remains the worst thing I experienced in terms of its impact. I think of it daily. It's so hard to not be seen as "weak" or judged or seen as an attention seeker without having to explain the decades of studies I've read through just to justify my emotions to MYSELF. I use the tools the professionals use to justify to myself my emotions are valid. I just want to figure out how to stop thinking like this. It's frustrating. I just want to stop thinking about this topic as a whole preferably, but I'd at least like my brain to stop compelling me to read decades worth of scientific writings on the matter of COCSA and peer on peer sexual abuse so I don't waste hours of my day on a near daily basis. I also have an issue with the fact that the COCSA caused my reactions to the other forms of sexual violence like simple sexual harassment to really fuck me up. Stuff that others would probably barely count as harrassment. I cannot walk home alone at night at all. I have to call someone if I need to. That's partly due to the attempted kidnapping to be fair, and being followed home once as an adult, but also the harassment I've faced over the years of both childhood and adulthood. It feels constant to have some crusty dusty old guy perving on you. Not to mention that as an adult I realise lots of the "innocent" interactions I had around older men as a child were not as innocent and rather older men asking me for disgusting things like me dancing for them and shaking my butt in my swimsuit for them. And having even another child hurt you in that way? Idk. It makes me feel that no one is safe to be around. And worse, no child is safe from others. Not even other children. I am terrified of that concept. It makes me not want to have children because I am so terrified I might fail them in some way or they be hurt by someone else who they were supposed to be safe around.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through and please know that not only are you not alone in experiencing COCSA and polyvictimization, but you're also not the only survivor to feel like what happened isn't serious or valid enough to get help or resources for your experiences, or to even label yourself as a survivor. This can be especially difficult if you've been gaslit or victim-blamed over what you went through.

Regarding how your COCSA still overshadows your SA in adulthood, it's important to recognize that your COCSA was at a formative age, which could partly explain why it's had a much more significant impact on your being. That being said, sometimes it's simply a mystery why our brains find one experience more traumatic than the other, even if it seems it should be the other way around. But it's important to honor your trauma as it is, and consider that trauma isn't defined by what happened, but rather by how we psychologically respond or process those events.

It's really hard to struggle with validating your own trauma. Something that has helped me personally was to imagine it vicariously. Like, imagine that someone else went through the exact same thing as you did. Would you tell them that they can't call themselves a survivor, or that what happened to them wasn't traumatic, abusive, or severe? Would you call them weak or an attention seeker? If you answer no, now consider that this person is you. It may not completely resolve things, but it may put it somewhat at ease.

I think that your experiences contextualize your general unease, fear, and distrust. But it can also be isolating and exhausting to navigate your life in a way that is dictated by these things. As a survivor you deserve to shine beyond your trauma-informed fears and live a life that is meaningful to you. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional could help you process all of your traumas, including your feelings surrounding them, and work with you to reframe your thoughts and equip you with some healthy coping mechanisms that you can take with you along your healing journey.

I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[chaoticoctopi]

Listening to an episode of Radiolab called How to Save a Life. And thinking about how very thankful I am that I've had access to regular first aid/CPR classes for the last *20 years* through my work.

There are people in my building who go out on survey vessels every year, and so at least two people became actual certified *instructors* so we could had yearly classes without even having to host an outside person to teach. And even though I don't go out on boats, they throw the classes open to everyone in the building.

I've done the old school compressions-and-breaths on dummies so many times now, and the updated compressions-only/hands-only system as well. I've had a chance to get that movement and rhythm into my bones, to feel how exhausted you get after only 2 minutes so I'm ready and not surprised by it. I've seen all the videos of wacky staged workplace injury hijinks so many times. Even though I'm a theater person and being loud and bossy isn't scary to me, I still take comfort in the rehearsal - "YOU! Call 911! YOU! Get the first aid kit..!"

There was a season where everyone seemed to be pregnant at my workplace. The guys brought in *infant rescussi-annies* for us. No babies would EVER be going out in a boat but they taught us how to do CPR on an infant anyway.

I forget how uncommon this is. That not everyone has had so much access to these classes - not only free for me to take, but done during *paid work time*, that the lessons begin to feel like second nature.

In the Radiolab episode, they mention that the odds of surviving a heart incident are something like 8%, because the public really just doesn't have CPR training. But in casinos the odds go up PAST 50%! There's old people! There's stress! There's a higher chance that someone is going to have a heart incident! But there's also cameras! And every worker in the place has been trained in CPR! So if you're not in a hospital, your next best place to have a heart attack is in a casino. 😂

We've all seen CPR depicted on TV. You know what it looks like, but the feel is so much different - harder, more work, and on TV it almost always results in the victim suddenly breathing again within seconds. In real life... In the Radiolab episode, they talk about a woman who did CPR on her husband for ten minutes before the EMT's arrived. Ten minutes. An eternity. And even then it took five shocks to get him back.

But he wouldn't have come back at all if she hadn't worked her ass off for those ten minutes.

If you can get yourself to a class, for the love of everything please do. And even if you can't, if you're in the wild and see someone go down - action is better than inaction. You don't even have to do *breaths*. Just interlace your hands and push hard and fast in the center of their chest. Just push. You could save a life.

...I don't really know where I'm going with this. It just brought up memories of witnessing someone totally bite it on their bike just DAYS after one of my first aid courses. No helmet, full faceplant on concrete. And me and my friend just leapt into it without thinking. I told her to hit the hazard lights and bailed out of the car before it even really stopped fully. The gal was rattled but ok. Mostly road rash. But we were able to assess the situation and keep traffic away while wrangling her, her bike and her dog. It wasn't just the theater kid in me that did that, it was the first aid classes too.

Get trained if you can. 💙

https://radiolab.org/podcast/how-to-save-a-life

[infinitywritesnyc]

9AM is the Gurlllll, the early morning traffic that takes over the sound of New York City residents starting their day, keys jinggling, construction work down the block, the chit chatter between one another, catching up on the night before, or their odd sex dreams with their coworkers. People taking their first hit of their ciggerates, blunts or even taking their first sip of coffee as they walk their NYC feet to work or to run errands.

My day today is defined as that; "running errands". As a child? that phrase was disappointing to hear from a parent, especially when you just want to catch up on your favorite show or play nintendo, cuddled up at home. or maybe it was exciting because you got to tag along. As a teenager? that phrase sounds like excuses, a reason to leave the house when you really wanted to stay, or to spend quality time with your parents because you're "always outside with friends", retrospectively you may also have to use that term as you start paying bills, or when payment is due for your first credit card month. As a full grown adult ? I've come to realize errands are just tasks that lead us directly to where you vision yourself. 9AM mornings helps so much though, and let me tell you why!

Now imagine yourself waking up at 1-3pm as you usually do, everyone is getting out of work, going straight home sometimes in distress, people in service positions are transitioning from morning shifts to night shifts. 5PM rush hour? Trust me, you do not want to be caught up in the middle of that. And let's say by the time you're done scrolling through your Social Medias,or reading this article (within that time frame) it will already be 4-5PM, where the evening just begun. Now this schedule works FAB for anyone who has an artistic background. But if you are on a Corporate, LawMaking, Saving Lives journey? Then my friend I sincerely apologize but yes your only options are 9-5 jobs, and yes, you will be that person who goes to sleep early and misses out on "All The Fun". Having to catch up on what's tea, discreetly during work hours. Honestly though, Rather that then a world full of confusion and misalignments.

Misalignment? You might be asking yourself what do i mean by that?! Well, news flash, this journey called LIFE? That we are all collectively experiencing? Is a script. Like an actual movie script and I genuinely wish i was kidding, this description can seem far reached or unrealistic for many, but we were all introduced a system as we were growing up! In which I like to call it the govt script. Now erase everything you know? And relearn what is in front of you NOW. The entire planet has resources to pretty much provide anything you set your mind too. The people, the culture, the travels, equipment and support, is all that you need, and it's waiting for you right outside your door. So write your script, do not let distractions and negative attachments get in the way of your end goal! That's why when I get back home early from stepping out at 9AM to run my errands, I take a quick shower, settle, and around 1-3PM! everything would be checked off my list! Making me feel light like a feather, floating round the sky, falling with nowhere to land. Consequently, accomplishing all the daily goals I need to fulfill to place myself a step forward towards the end of my script. And that is my friend, why 9AM is DAAA GURLLL!

Evidence: https://www.summahealth.org/flourish/entries/2023/09/4-benefits-to-waking-early-and-how-to-make-the-transition

https://www.summahealth.org/flourish/entries/2023/09/4-benefits-to-waking-early-and-how-to-make-the-transition

[davidyonke]

I rented a Tesla 3 for my trip last week to Asheville, N.C., and it was a wonderful experience. I drove 1,200 miles and yes, it required stopping to "fill up" the charge every 150-200 miles (max range was 256 miles on this vehicle). But I never had any "range anxiety" as the Tesla Supercharger network was readily available and the car's navigation system mapped out my trip and all the places to stop.

And the car was a joy to drive. So smooth and so fast! I've always been a pseudo race-car driver (I drove a NASCAR once in the Richard Petty Driving School) and this car has so much power ... whether starting from 0 or accelerating to pass a vehicle on the highway, it was like Sonic. Zoom, I'm doing 95 before I know it. Whoops. Ease back down. But the pleasure of having that much pep instantly available was a wonderful feeling, especially going through the Great Smoky Mountains.

I enjoyed all the little Tesla extras, like the huge screen on the dashboard, the trunk and frunk, the credit card-like key, the "light show" feature and the "Emissions Testing" which is actually a fart mode. OK, it's nothing new to veteran Tesla drivers but it was a novelty to me. Oh Elon, you're such a gas!

I did not use the auto-pilot mode, although when using cruise control the car slowed down when another car or truck was in front of me. And the huge screen showed all the surrounding traffic and construction cones in moving 3D renderings.

The most basic Tesla model, the 3 is kind of small. We had to use the back seat to fit some of our junk, but it was only me and Janet in the car so there was plenty of room. It would be tough to go on a trip with more than two people. But most people use their Teslas for short trips around town, for which it is perfect.

My one concern was that Musk fired everyone in the Tesla Supercharger department while I was in North Carolina. Would the Superchargers be working for my trip home? They were, so it was nothing to worry about -- once I got on the road and used one.

One surprise was stopping at Buc-ees in N.C. That road oasis had about 200 gas pumps and a dozen Tesla charging stations. And once inside the building, it was a road trippers's mecca. I've seen it referred to as a "Disney World" of road stops. So many food options, clean and spacious building, clean and spacious restrooms, and lots of little novelties and souvenirs to purchase. No wonder people rave about Buc-ees. I even got my photo taken with Buc-ee, the corporate mascot.

I might be in the market for a Tesla...someday. Janet didn't really like the car -- too low, a bit of road noise, and too high-tech for her tastes. Plus she didn't like having to stop so many times. But some of the stops only took 15 minutes for a full charge.

I did sign up for Mr. Beast's 26th birthday giveaway -- he's giving away 26 Teslas, including one Cybertruck. The drawing is this Friday. We'll see if Mr. Beast likes me ;-)

[vlad-theimplier]

I... what? Where? What the hell? Did you really say "you have no recourse for it; it's all done through the established legal system" with a straight face? What do you think "recourse" means??

Normally, I'm not one to speculate ad hominem, but I strongly suspect this is someone who got ticketed and is forever big mad as a result, because they are angry about all the wrong things re: traffic stops and citations. So now we get to learn together.

Ruinous sums of money: most moving violations are in the $50-$250 range for a first offense (and most violations don't have a subsequent version). Now, that amount of money could be a lot more than an inconvenience to someone living paycheck-to-paycheck, but to describe it as "ruinous" is pretty hyperbolic.

Whenever they feel like it: well, they need reasonable suspicion, and they need to justify their assessment against the body/dash cams most departments now use, as well as any dash cam/cell phone footage the occupants take. People have actually looked at the numbers (see, e.g., Pulled Over), and the issue isn't dishonest stops, it's that driving is such a highly-regulated activity that it's easy to find a real basis to stop someone. And it's regulated for safety reasons, so the solution isn't just to get rid of all the lane lines and traffic signals (although some experiments in Europe suggest that a reduction in traffic control devices helps in certain circumstances).

Blatantly illegal and a clear-cut example of misconduct: again, it really, really isn't. The issue is that it's legal and not misconduct, and it gets used disproportionately against POC and poor people.

A colossal, even dangerous indignity: here's where we venture off to crazytown. Traffic courts I've seen, in multiple states over several years, is an inconvenience. If you're lucky, you get in and out in an hour or two; if not, you sit around most of the day. Like the DMV, sort of. There's lots to say about access to the courts for people in precarious work/childcare situations, especially when the courts aren't always easily reachable by public transit, but an indignity? Dangerous? Only from the risk of being bored to death waiting to get called.

Works out approximately once every ten million years: nah. I've seen whole traffic court sessions (because my case was getting called afterwards and the court was too small for multiple sessions in parallel) where the judge tosses every single citation. Either because the officer no-showed, or because they thought the officer was being unreasonable--not dishonest; we're talking 39 in a 35--or because they thought the driver deserved a break. Again, there are things to talk about here, mostly the way POC and poor drivers seem to get fewer breaks. But many a judge has looked a young, impoverished Black man in the eye and said, "I believe the officer when he says he saw you run the red light. That's dangerous. Don't do it again. I'm finding you not responsible." On average, in my experience, I'd say people have a 90% success rate in appealing tickets.

So what should we be worried about? The ease of finding a moving violation, the escalation from traffic stop to search, the way people give consent for a search too easily, the lack of public transit alternatives to car ownership, the draconian drug laws, the lack of oversight and accountability when police do break policy or law, and of course the traffic stops that turn into police murdering the driver. But this kind of hallucinatory take derails the conversation from the real issues and saps the credibility of those advocating for reform.

In the free nation of America, if you're operating an automobile, the police can stop you and extort ruinous sums of money from you whenever they feel like it. They need no justification for this beyond claiming without any need for substantiation that you were operating the vehicle incorrectly and you have no recourse for it; it's all done through the established legal system. In theory, this is blatantly illegal and a clear-cut example of misconduct, but that doesn't seem to slow them down. In theory, a person so victimized by this extortion racket will be able to argue their case in a court of law, but in real life that's a colossal, even dangerous indignity which works out approximately once every ten million years.

[gateandbarriers]

How Swing Barrier Gate Arms Work and Their Effects on Climate Change

In the wide traffic of people and vehicles, barrier gate arms with swing barrier gates are like guardians keeping or closing the flow of traffic. They are the arms that open or close – allowing or denying to passage. Starting with the basics, let us explore the intricacies of swing barrier gate arms. The working principle and significance of these arms will be the focus.

What are the Swing Barrier Gate Arms?

For example, think that you are in a train station or a car park. There is no wonder that you see bars of metal which prevent you from getting away until you get your ticket or a card swiped. There you go, a vehicle lift barrier gate arm! The lock is like a gate, but instead of swinging on a hinge it has a cross-bar that rotates. When the door opens, it's by invitation only. No one inside? The door just remains closed, as if replying, "Sorry, I've got other plans today!"

How Do They Work?

Now, take a look inside the machine. swing barrier gate arms are, in fact, smarter than what they appear due to their functionality. They are linked to a loop that determines the fate of those going through and those being kept away. The scanning system of this system might be designed to be a ticket scanner, card reader or even a button pressed by a security guard. Once the system draws a green light, the gate moves apart. In this case, if it can do so, it remains there, holding tightly onto the thing being fastened.

Why Are They Important?

The barrier gate arms that are used in swing arms might look like simple structures, but they actually serve a great purpose of keeping places secure and well organized. Try to visualize what the concert would be if there were no stages—it would resemble a battlefield! After all, so many people will be going around without concealing anything. It is possible to imagine a parking lot without indigo gates; everyone would be fighting for a parking spot. Such gate arms help to ensure orderliness all round, ensuring only the right person or vehicle gets in according to the particular time.

The variety of swing barrier gate arms:

Not all swing barrier gates were made in the same manner. Some are quick, some are slow. Others swing a lot, others don't. Besides the traditional ones there are the ones with fancy glitter and flashing lights too! We won't really know until they're put in place and they know what they're defending. But no matter their style, their job remains the same: to controll the flow.

Advantages of Swing Style Barrier Gate Arms

The swing barrier gate arms, regardless of the word, security, also provide this convenience. Think about it: when you are lining up at the airport, you want to get through fast and save time as much as possible without wasting it in a long queue. The coming arms make the flow of the crowd smooth thus you spend a shorter time waiting and have more time to have fun.

Importance of Maintenance and Safety

Similar to any other mechanical item, the arms of the barrier gates require some maintenance to keep it in good working order. Routine maintenance guarantees that they don't get stalled or break up resulting in terrible inconveniences and frustrations to just about everybody. And maintaining the good conditions provides the assurance of their safety. So they can be used without the risk of any accidents or injuries. Therefore, spare a little TLC for those gate arms from time to time—they’ll indeed function smoothly as a result.

Thus, the key points of the swing barrier gate arm. They might be just metal bars but they are at the backbone of crowd control and security exactly where they're rarely appreciated. Next time you see one, make a silent bow of gratitude for them as they put your streets right. Lastly, no matter whether you go through one or just appreciate the distance, swing barrier gate arms will always be there doing the job as incessantly as the flow of time.