#they didn't really get along but there was something and they worked on it

[luvismenu]

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

“shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

“get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what’s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

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[octuscle]

Exchange student: Athens (GA)

Benjamin was not particularly happy that he had come to Georgia as an exchange student. Athens... He had wanted something in New England. Or at least in California. But he hadn't been able to choose. Athens had taken him.

The introductory week had been a disappointment. His fellow students were almost exclusively from the neighborhood, the boys were interested in football and hunting rifles, the girls in boys. It was all so clichéd that it was hard to express. But there was actually a very good grand piano in the assembly hall and Benjamin had been given permission to use it for his daily exercises after a short audition. He had not yet met his roommate. He wasn't due to return to university until a week later because of some family business. Benjamin was hoping for someone who was also interested in classical music and expressionism. Or at least someone who was also studying literature, art history or something similar.

It was the night from Saturday to Sunday when the door opened with a huge crash at around 02:00. Someone threw a duffel bag onto the bed and turned on the light. Benjamin blinked startled at the sudden light. He couldn't see anything against the light. But it smelled of sweat and a few other things he couldn't identify. The shadow took off his shirt, threw it on the floor and sat down on the other bed. Benjamin's eyes adjusted to the light and he began to recognize something.

"Well howdy, you must be Ben. I'm Hunter, no lie, that's my name, partner. Shoo, it ain't even 2 o'clock yet. What in tarnation are ya doin' in bed?" Benjamin was disgusted. He would have to share the room with a redneck. He turned around and mumbled, “Nice to meet you. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to sleep.” Hunter just said, “Well, that’s on you if ya overlook somethin’, darlin’,” rummaged in his duffel bag and disappeared again. It must have been around 04:00 when he returned. Now it also smelled of booze. Benjamin pretended to be asleep, even though Hunter was making a lot of noise. After he had finished clearing out his things, Benjamin heard him burp loudly a few more times. And soon he was snoring.

When Benjamin's alarm clock rang at 07:00, Hunter was still snoring. He was lying naked on the comforter. Benjamin had to admit with envy that he was well trained. His butt was firm. His upper body was deeply tanned and Hunter was pale below the waist. A guy who worked out in the fresh air. Benjamin's cock got hard. He quickly grabbed his scrubs and headed for the washrooms. He wanted to be at the Georgia Museum of Art early. When he returned to his room, freshly showered, Hunter was lying awake on his bed. Jerking off his morning wood. “Well, howdy there, early riser! Ain't that somethin'! You fixin' to hit the pavement for a run?” Benjamin turned around, embarrassed. Because he didn't want to disturb Hunter while he was wanking. And because his own cock was leaking precum into his boxer shorts. “No thanks, I wanted to go to the museum.” “Real neat, we got one 'round these parts? Been here a whole year and didn’t even know. Might just tag along next time, if y'know what I mean.” “That would be nice,” Benjamin replied as he hurriedly got dressed and left the room. He had to go to the washrooms again before he went to the museum. He really needed to wank. He thought about Hunter.

He wasn't really focused in the museum. At the beginning, he made sketches of the halls and the works of art on display. He was actually surprised by the quality. There were top-class works here. But when he caught himself doodling a stag in his notebook the third time, he decided that he would probably be better off getting some fresh air. He took his rucksack out of his locker and left the museum. The fresh air did him good. Benjamin walked along Campus Road. He passed the Georgia Museum of Natural History. It was still early. He went inside.

Natural history wasn't really his hobby. But Benjamin was fascinated by the dioramas of the local animal world. He enthusiastically made sketches of the deer. Why the hell had he already made them at the art museum? And why were the deer he was drawing now often hunted prey? He probably just couldn't get Hunter out of his head. He was getting a hard-on again. Benjamin made his way back to the dormitory. Hunter and he hadn't got off to a good start. But now he would like to put that right.

"Down at th’ park wit’ the boys, tossin’ sum balls ‘round. Y’all come on by if ya wanna join!" The note was on Ben's pillow. There was a lot else lying around the room. It was as if a bomb had gone off. Hunter was obviously not the tidiest of people. There was a camouflage T-shirt on the floor. Benjamin pressed it to his face. It smelled of sweat and masculinity. He couldn't help it. He had to jerk off again. This time it came with unexpected force. Shit, on the floor, on the bed, his cum was everywhere. He took one of his dirty towels from the laundry basket and tried to clean it up as best he could. And then he made his way to the park. He had to watch Hunter play football with his buddies.

Benjamin had to search a bit to find Hunter and his friends. But it was worth it. A gang of young rednecks in the prime of their youth, on their way to becoming real men. Their muscles were glistening with sweat, their mullets sticking wet to their heads. “Yo, Ben!” Hunter shouted when he saw Benjamin. Benjamin was amazed that Hunter had recognized him. Hunter ran up to him and did a fist bump, which Benjamin returned somewhat awkwardly. “Hey there, what in tarnation are ya doin’ just standin’ ‘round like a bump on a log? Get yourself changed and hit that field!” Benjamin said that he had nothing to change into. “Floyd, you knucklehead! You got your gym gear?” Hunter yelled across the pitch. He, who was presumably Floyd, yelled back “Sure thing!”. Hunter went to a bag and threw it to Benjamin. “Here ya go, this oughta fit ya, Big fella!” Benjamin was a little embarrassed to just change in the open field. But there was no turning back now. The last time he had played football was five years ago. And he had been bad. Really bad. Now he was standing on a field in sweaty, oversized clothes belonging to a guy he didn't know called Floyd and had to play football with a guy he hardly knew, but had already wanked off on twice today. The ball flew towards him. Benjamin caught it with a leap. “To me!” roared Hunter. And with a powerful and precise pass, the ball flew to Hunter. “Bloody hell!” thought Benjamin.

The sun was about to set. The boys were lying on the grass, drinking some kind of isotonic thirst quencher. They had all taken off their shirts. Hunter's head was on Benjamin's stomach. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, buddy! You best be chowin' down more and hittin' them weights less. That belly of yours ain’t got no softness to cuddle up to!” “In your dreams!” replied Benjamin, tousling Hunter's wet hair. Damn, he was well on his way to becoming a jock... Benjamin and Hunter spent the evening together, when the sun went down, they went to the movies and then out for a burger. Benjamin had never spent a Sunday like this before. It felt wrong. But it felt so good!

The next morning, Hunter's alarm clock rang at 05:30. “Dude, running and gym!” he said as he shook Benjamin awake. Benjamin had done more sport yesterday than he had ever done in his life. But without argument, he put on Floyd's dirty and sweaty clothes and the two of them set off. Benjamin actually had his first lecture at 08:30. English poetry of the 19th century. But he couldn't leave Hunter to bench press on his own. And so it was 09:00 when he arrived in the lecture hall. In his sweaty gym clothes. Without his homework. His professor asked him to join her after the lecture to explain to him clearly that this was not the performance she expected. And that he would stink. Benjamin raised his arm and took a deep breath from his armpit. “You're damn right,” he said, nodding appreciatively. His cell phone vibrated. “Fucc dude, 4got my laptop.  Bring it by, bruh. Warnell school of 4estry and natural resources” Benjamin knew where that was. Behind the natural history museum. Next lecture wasn't for another hour. Benjamin sprinted home, grabbed the computer from Hunter's desk and ran into the department. “I'm at the entrance, bro,” he wrote. ‘Cum 2 the library,’ Hunter replied. Benjamin followed the signs. Floyd was waiting outside the library. “Hey y'all, thanks a million! You’re a real lifesaver for Hunter and me. And I gotta say, them clothes are lookin' sharp. And that mullet? Pure gold!” Benjamin blushed and said that he would do the washing today and Floyd would bring the clothes back clean tomorrow. Floyd laughed and said that they had only been on for a week, a bit early to wash them. Benjamin joined in the laughter and headed off to his next lecture. Bloody hell, what had Floyd said. Mullet? What mullet? He ran his fingers through his hair sweaty from running. It was sticking to the back of his neck. Benjamin searched for a window pane to look at his reflection. Shit, he had a similar hairstyle to the boys.

Tuesday morning was Hunter and Ben's first lecture, “Ecosystems and Habitat management” in Professor Castleberry's Wildlife Ecology and Management class. They both got quite a telling off for missing the first lecture the previous week. Hunter's excuse was that he couldn't leave his parents' hunting lodge because of the storm. The story of how the bridge had been washed away sounded super realistic. Ben had to bite his tongue not to laugh out loud. He knew that Hunter simply hadn't wanted to leave without killing the big stag. Ben's excuse was less original. The fact that he was wrongly enrolled in art history and literature led to great laughter in the lecture hall. A guy with “corn-fed Midwestern boy” literally tattooed on his forehead couldn't be in a worse place than in a lecture on 19th century English poetry. Luckily, the two best buddies were given two adjacent seats. They hadn't showered after the gym today either. Very few of their fellow students wanted to sit next to them. But it was their lucky day anyway. Although the registration deadline had actually already passed, they both still got a place on the excursion to the “Population biology and ecology” field trip at the weekend. They could hardly wait for Friday. Finally a chance to get some fresh air and hopefully a good piece of game. Their hunting rifles were already threatening to rust.

A few of his fellow students knew that his real name was Ben. But everyone here called him Buck. Hunter and Buck. It just went together. The two of them studied together, pumped iron together, played football together. They hunted together. And yes, they also fucked together. But only without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

Pics by @ki-kink

[futurebird]

Do not help them to build any more of this machine.

If you work with a database and are asked to alter the table structure to comply in advance for citizenship or gender categorizations it's really important to NOT do it.

"The governor is concerned about all this stuff they want us to update our record keeping so we store both gender AND biological sex."

"We need fields to store the country of origin of people's parents."

If you don't have the power to rebuff this yourself, ask for help. At minimum ask for help online anonymously.

Depending on your job you probably have in the past made compromises. Maybe to keep your job. Maybe to survive. This is a bright line. If you are asked to be the one to update the table don't let it be your fingers typing those changes.

If you can't just say "No I won't do that." Stall, run away, feign incompetence. Just don't let it happen.

I suspect this might be where the rubber hits the road first for us around here.

Nothing has changed. You do not have to do it. It is not even ordained.

I know someone who rebuffed such a request. Boss was apologetic "it's what the higher ups want, oh *I* think it's a lot of nonsense, but I don't want us to be out of step ... blah blah"

It was proposed to them in sheepish way. They said it would be a lot of work, not add anything of value, and most important they would not do it. It didn't come up again.

Fascism can be the work of zealots, but there are also many sheepish middle management helping hands who "don't even believe in this really"

There is a lively discussion of this on mastodon. (Mastodon is a very active social network where many people who left twitter have gone over the past few years to escape many problems of big centralized socail media. I like it a lot.) Posting a response to this post over there could be a way to get lots of help and ideas from tech people all over the world with similar values. If you do need help. Please say something.

Also, if you respond to this post I can pass what you say along if that would help too. People will respond and give you ideas to NOT do this should you be asked.

[revelboo]

Hello! Just wanted to thank you again for all your stories. Like many other people have already said, please take care of yourself. But also, I hope you're still enjoying writing these! Like it hasn't become an obligation or a source of pressure. Take all the breaks you need.

(You likely already know to do that, apologies. Just saying it because many many years ago I *didn't* know that ^^; )

No worries. That’s actually why I’d stopped writing on FFN years ago- felt obligated to answer every single request. At this point, I’m just doing this for fun. I’d missed writing silly TF stuff and you guys are challenging me to write characters I’ve never even considered

Drive Pt 5

Constructicons x Reader

• Tangled in your blankets, you curl onto your side with one of the three books that been in the things Bonecrusher and Long Haul had brought you and try to keep awake as Scavenger’s scoop sways with his steps. You’re not sure what they’re working on, only that you’d been picked up blankets, book, and all by Bonecrusher and plunked into Scavenger’s scoop. Along with three more blankets, a pillow, a bottle of water, and a box of granola bars. Can hear them softly arguing as they work, occasionally getting jostled when someone bumps your current ride and you tip your head up to stare at the stars overhead. Freedom all around you and you can’t get down without breaking your neck.

• Heading over to Hook to check the blueprints Scrapper had made for them, Scavenger can feel the warmth of you, feel every time you shift around inside his scoop and it’s a strange, but not unsettling sensation having you there even though he’d protested when Bonecrusher had just dumped you inside without asking. And it wasn’t like he could deny that you’re safer with them than alone in their habsuite. “You still good back there?” He asks walking back to gather more materials and shivering when you lay a little hand against him.

• Grabbing Scavenger’s scoop when he tries to walk past and tugging to make his brother nearly bend backwards with a strained ‘frag off, you glitch,’ Bonecrusher checks on you. Ignoring Scavenger, he rumbles when you look up at him and smile. Holding his brother still with one big hand as he struggles and swears, Bonecrusher reaches to rub a servo against your jaw and warms when you reach to touch his servo. Chasing you down had been fun, but now he just feels guilty about it. But he still gets a thrill remembering the hunt. Maybe when your ankle is healed you’d let him catch you again?

• Sitting up when Bonecrusher finally stops petting you and lets Scavenger go, you really can’t figure out their deal. The six big mechs so rough with each other, jostling and arguing. And then treating you like you’re made of glass. They’d chased you down like predators going after prey, scaring you half to death and now they’re keeping you like a favored pet. They must want something from you, right? Or maybe they just like having something to care for. Standing, you try to see out over the top edge of the scoop.

• “Don’t fall and break something else,” Hook growls when he spots your little head peeking out and he reaches up to tap you gently on the nose with a servo until you duck back down out of reach. He can still see the top of your head, though as you move around. “Stay down,” he adds tiredly. Because the rest of the Decepticons seem to have lost their minds and he’d rather you stay out of sight. Megatron’s little message to the ranks and then that stupid brawl between the commanders in the hall has him on edge. Just keeps circling in his processor. Cybertronians and humans fragging. Primus. You should be safe out here in the woods, but he’s not sure what to make of any of it.

• Sitting back down, you listen to them working. Hear them pushing trees down. Mixmaster laughing raucously at something Scrapper said that you didn’t quite catch. The sounds of metal on metal, thumps and rumbles. Hooking an arm around your pillow, you stretch out on your belly with the book. There’s not really enough moonlight to read by, so you just listen to them work. Trying to figure out why you feel so safe with them when you should be scared, trying to escape.

Previous

[wizard-on-whales]

I've literally had this stuck in my head for as long as I've been obsessed with him but imagine being highschool sweethearts with him...

Like you guys were inseparable when you were kids. Your houses were right across the street from each other and you were the only kids on the block so you always played together. You would ride your bikes through the streets, go to the arcade, play in a nearby creek. When you two got older your spot by the creek became a place to escape from family issues, you'd pass a joint and a beer back and forth, and just talk about your futures. Then when Senior prom came around his brother and your mom forced you two to go together even though neither of you wanted to go to prom in the first place. Half way through the night you'd ditch and go to your spot in the woods. You'd both be a giggling mess, drunk on spiked punch as you fall to the ground together, him holding you in his arms, making fun of your poofy dress once more. But secretly he loved it, his heart had been racing all night, his hands sweaty every time you'd smile at him. Now that you were on top of him, giggling away, he kissed you. He didn't know what overcame him but he did it anyway. You kissed back. Neither of you had felt this way about each other before, but now that it happened a whole new world of feeling opened up. All those years together, all of those memories, became something more in one moment.

You two continued to grow together, supporting each other through everything with a tight hold on each other's hands. James band blew up, just like you always told him, and he drug you along on tours and to crazy parties. You two would sneak off and make out in corners and in bathrooms, not caring what other people think. In '86 on a hiking trip, he got down on his knee and pulled a ring out, asking you to marry him. Of course you said yes, leaping into his arms and kissing him. You'd get married in 1990, 10 years after you started dating, it would be a small wedding, only your closest friends and family. He performs a song at the wedding for you that he had written, Nothing Else Matters...and it really didn't. Not to him anyway, he could have lost it all, the band, the fame, the money, he could have been living on the streets, but as long as he had you, he still had everything.

Mid 1991 you tell him you're pregnant, you both freak out at first but then realize how beautiful the opportunity is. Both of you came from broken families so the idea of starting a family together, one that would be full of love and laughter, neither of you could pass it up. Ironically enough the baby was born at the beginning of '92, February 10th. What would have been Cliffs 30th birthday. It only seemed right to name your baby boy after him.

A few years later another baby boy follows, Layne. It was a difficult pregnancy which ended in a C-section so you two agree to stop at two. But of course, the desire to have a baby girl outweighed your fears so in 1999 little Julia followed.

James had been struggling with his alcohol addiction, you tried so hard throughout the years to keep him from falling deeper but it couldn't be stopped. It pained you to see him this way, to watch him drink himself half to death. Many nights he'd stagger through the door and pass out on the floor.

Your breaking point was when he hadn't made it inside. He was passed out in the lawn in a pile of his own vomit. He needed rehab, no matter how much he denied it.

The months following were rough for everyone, James, you, the kids, but you pushed through and when he came home it was perfect. He was sweeter than ever, his smile from his youth, the one you fell so hard for, was back on his face.

The years that followed his sobriety journey were sometimes hard but you two made it work, just like you always had. In 2007 you found out that you were pregnant again. Both of you panicked for a while, wondering how you would make another baby work after already having three. Especially since they were getting older now...and so were the two of you. But Stevie was another perfect little angel who was adored by everyone. Her big brother Cliff especially. He was a sweet, sensitive boy who often took care of her without even asking. James and you told him he didn't have to help but he didn't listen.

Everything was perfect as the years continued on, Cliff got married and him and his wife welcomed their first baby in 2017. You and James were ecstatic about the news and the fact that you were grandparents now. It was only then did you realize that all of your dreams had come true, you and James were growing old together just like you always talked about in the spot by the creek. Sometime between 2017 and now, Layne and Julia both got married along the way too. Cliff welcomed two more kids, Layne welcomed his first, another on the way. Julia and her wife were opening a bookstore in Vail together. Stevie was about to graduate high school which seemed unreal.

Now you were here in the kitchen, preparing a Sunday dinner for your whole family, your 4 kids, 3 bonus kids (their wives), and your 4 grandchildren. James had arrived home from the store after you sent him for an ingredient you had forgotten. He stepped into the kitchen with a grin plastered on his face and his hand behind his back.

"what?" You'd say, eyeing him suspiciously as he stepped closer to you. Hed brushed your graying hair out of your face and bring a small flower out from behind his back, placing it on your ear.

"I saw it on the drive home, thought you'd like it," Hed say softly, a boyish smile on his face. You'd smile back, feeling a faint blush on your cheeks. Somehow after all these years he still found ways to whoo you. He'd wrap his arms around you and smile once more before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. The kiss would be interrupted by the squeals of a few of your grandkids running into the kitchen, wanting attention from him, wanting their grandpa. You'd smile at the sight of him scooping one into each arm, moving to the living room to play with them as you finish up dinner, your heart filled with more love than you ever thought possible.

✭-----------------------------✭

Literally gonna sob

[sirxlla]

Such an Integral Piece

----------------‐-------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: introducing your cat to Dick's dog Haley (request: @runnergirl234 also I love this idea it's the cutest thing ever and I hope you also have a great day)

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

The idea of you both moving in together was obvious, most nights one of your guys's apartments was empty because you would sleep over with the other person. It wasn't entirely ideal because of the animals but both of you didn't want to move too quickly in your relationships. That was nearly a year ago before you knew he was Nightwing.

Now Richard was staying at whatever apartment was closest after patrol and unfortunately that meant it was usually his. Sleeping in an empty bed just felt wrong at this point.

"Why don't you just move in? You shouldn't have to drive so far after a long day of work, I know the traffic in the city is not great around this time. I mean it's never great." Dick rubbed your back as you both laid in bed together.

"You're sure?" You asked as you played with his silky soft fluffy hair.

"I mean it would help me keep an eye on you but if you don't want to I entirely understand, I don't want to pressure you into anything." He leaned into your soft touches, closing his eyes with a groan.

"I mean I've been meaning to get away from the other job for a while anyways, If we can figure something out I wouldn't mind moving." Absentmindedly staring at the ceiling in the almost pitch black room.

"You mean that weirdo, David? Is he still coming around?" He asks about the weirdo that used to work at your job that kept stalking you.

"No, I think you scared I'm off but I'm really tired of looking over my shoulder and hoping that he's not there."

"I can find you a job pretty easily I mean hell you could probably work with me if you wanted."

"Isn't that like conflict of interest?"

"Not if we are actually working."

"I'd be down." Haley jumping on the bed to curl into your side.

"Then you're moving in." Cuddling into your chest, his face squished against your boobs.

"I am moving in" You smiled as sleep started taking you.

It was a bit of a process going through everything that you had acquired over time. You had that apartment since you were 18 so there was a lot to go through. It took about a week but you were getting everything settled and moved into Dick's place.

Once everything was in it's rightful place at his apartment the last but most important piece was your cat Frodo. Frodo is very affectionate and loving.

"Oh, God. I'm nervous."

"It's okay, Honey. Haley's got her mask on and I've got a hold of her." He's almost 100% sure she won't do anything to her but he wants to be sure.

"Well, here goes nothing." You brought Frodo's carry case over to Haley to let her sniff him. Frodo started hissing as Haley got super excited and playful which prompted Dick to make her sit.

"Be gentle Haley." He said to the sweet pitbull that listenss to every word that came out of his mouth.

"I guess we'll just have to give them time." You stated to Dick. After about 20 minutes of him in the crate you decided to let him out. Dick told Haley to come sit on the couch with him and she very quickly listened being such a well-trained dog. Once everyone calm down they seemed to as well.

The three of you saw on the couch and watched a movie while Frodo decided to go explore the house. After about an hour Frodo came back and surprisingly curled up next to Haley. You were half asleep against chest so you didn't notice but he sure did, he took a photo and posted it on Snapchat with the caption "my little family" which was a photo of you laying on his chest and the animals cuddling together. This was all that he hoped for when he was so happy that everybody was getting along.

[max1461]

One thing I will say, now that I've had direct experience with my mental meat severely malfunctioning: drugs are broad-spectrum, and personal exercise of... I won't say "virtue", but choice, can be targeted. I'm not saying that drug addicts can just choose not to be addicted or something, I'm not that naive. What I'm saying is: what are the full mental knock-on affects of dampening one's cravings? If opiate addiction is ruining your life this might be the least of your concerns, but if you're conceptualizing these GLP-1 agonists or any putatively similar drugs as some kind of general purpose "self-control booster", this is might be something you want to think about.

I often get a craving-like-feeling to do math, I'll have this moment where I'm like "you know what would be good right now? One of those group theory problems where you have the orders of a bunch subgroups and you have to deduce the order of the group" and then I'll go look for one online or whatever and solve it. This is, in fact, one of my more consistent motivators to do math, and if those cravings were less frequent I would probably know a lot less. A core part of romantic attraction for me is a craving-like-feeling for my partner; not just in a brute sexual sense but in a more abstract one. To have that lessened would be, from my perspective, essentially my capacity for romantic love being dampened along one of its axes. Would I want that?

When I was a kid, I played a lot of video games. Sometimes I'd play for hours a day. And I really cared about the medium; at that point in my life my ambition was to become a video game designer. When I turned about 16, I abruptly lost the immediate-term desire to actually play video games. I still cared about the medium just as much, I still had lots of thoughts on games and game design, but in a moment-to-moment sense actually playing games was no longer something I wanted to do very often. It ceased to be something I desired in a raw hedonistic sense. It was work. I would sit down to play a game because I was interested in it intellectually, but after 20 minutes I'd get burned out and have to stop. This shift probably altered the course of my life in a huge way—it reshaped something fundamentally about who I was and who I was becoming. I still care a lot about games as a medium, and I'm not in any way torn up that I didn't go down the path of trying to become a game designer. But it does disappoint me sometimes that I can't have anything like the relationship to games that I used to, because my brain has decided they aren't "fun" in that purely hedonic sense anymore.

Actually, this was part of a larger shift in my personality that occurred when I was a teenager, in which I became fairly anhedonic in most areas of life, and as a result shifted away from most simplistically pleasurable activities and towards endeavors that provided a more diffuse, harder to quantify form of gratification. Not because I'm virtuous—but because I'm meat, and the simplistic sources of gratification largely stopped working!

What I'm trying to articulate is something like... yeah, you're made of meat, which means in particular: you are made of meat. When you take a drug that alters your meat, there is a sense in which you become somebody else. And this also happens all the time for reasons you don't control. But that doesn't mean it's good or acceptable in the general case. Sometimes, often, it's bad! Or it's good and bad in ways that are hard to tally. The brain is complex, and, like I said, medications are broad-spectrum. They don't differentiate between the neurons that make you crave a burger and the neurons that make you love your wife, they modulate all the neurotransmitters the same. Actually the bodybuilder Mike Israetel specifically says in an interview somewhere that when he's on steroids, he loves his wife less. It's just physiological. And I believe him.

In the past few months I've had to take lamotrigine for seizures. Lamotrigine is also a mood stabilizer. I don't need my mood stabilized, in fact I rather like my usual array of moods. One of the things lamotrigine evidently does is induce a positive bias in processing of faces—response to angry and fearful faces is lessened, while response to happy faces is unaffected. Sounds great, right? But the visceral response to fearful faces is an important component of affective empathy. You don't want to hurt someone, in part it seems, because your brain has a visceral reaction to the real or imagined sight of their face in fear. Scores on the psychopathy checklist correlate with impaired ability to discern fearful faces, but no comparable impaired ability to discern faces displaying positive emotions. If you can't internalize someone else's fear or sadness, you can't empathize. I know that I don't feel like myself on lamotrigine. Now this is not to be taken as at all scientific; I've got a lot of weird brain stuff going on right now and I don't feel like myself anyway. But in any case, lamotrigine is meant to be one of the seizure medications with the fewest cognitive side effects.

You are made of matter, and messing around with the matter that makes you up can change you in unknown and unpredictable ways. Me growing up to become a linguist instead of a game designer, that reflects a really complex and multi-faceted shift in who I am and how I used my time. And it was brought on by all kinds of things, all sorts of personal development over the years, but a load-bearing component was probably the simple down-modulation of an impulse, a loss of simple hedonistic capacity that caused me to search out radically new uses of my time in my teen years. That shift was endogenous, but certainly a drug could have done it. So my point I guess is that no drug is... what word am I looking for, "apolitical"? That's not what I mean. But I'm saying something conceptually similar to what people often mean when they say no technology is apolitical. Except instead of the body politic I'm talking about the body itself, the body and mind. Uh. If you take a drug to "increase your willpower", it might turn out that you become someone you wouldn't have chosen to become, in ways you never even considered. You might be fine with that or you might not. But it's not so simple as taking the person-you-are and turning up a willpower knob, it's never that simple. I think a sort of techno-pessimism towards this notion of a miracle drug is very warranted.

Last week's WITH was about the pursuit of treatments that might do for addiction what GLP-1 agonists do for cravings for food, and the guest had an interesting point about how you can have phenomena with very complex causes (the main examples here being opiate addiction and the general rise in obesity) that do not require you to untangle or address those causes in order to procure solutions. Like, is addiction a disease, a social ill, a product of trauma, a failure of willpower, or all of these things?

It doesn't necessarily matter! It turns out that "craving stuff" is a pretty basic neurological feedback loop and it may be tractable to pharmaceutical intervention. Heck, GLP-1 agonists may be that intervention: people have reported (and clinical trials are being conducted to study) that these drugs, among their many effects, simply blunt cravings, to the point where people have as a side effect of taking them for diabetes or weight loss also found they helped cut down on drinking, or gambling, or using other drugs.

So even if GLP-1 agonists don't have all the miraculous effects reported (there are some reports they may be effective as an Alzheimer's treatment!), it would be crazy if we have discovered a drug that allows us to better marshal our faculties to decide which cravings to give in to, a drug that simply imbues us with self-control. And I think that's really interesting, because it's an outright clash between two ways of seeing the world: a moralistic one in which virtues are the product of individual decisions, and in which taking a drug to achieve some outcome that "ought" to be a product of virtue might be seen as cheating, and one that reminds us that, for better or worse, we are meat, and all our complex behaviors arise as the result of the state of the meat that we are--and from which view, refusing to acknowledge the mutability of your meat in aid of achieving your goals, or even broader social benefit (addiction is really bad and there very few good options to treat it), is simply goofy.

But a lot of people's reaction to the existence of GLP-1 agonists--or for that matter any medical intervention for things which are moralized as willpower problems--includes contempt founded on being wedded to that moralizing framework. I think a lot of moralism develops as a response to conditions of existence being imposed on us that are objectively pretty miserable, and that when we discover the occasional intervention that liberates us from that pretty restrictive framework, our attitude should be one of jubilation: hear, O ye people, that what was long believed to be an implacable trade-off of human existence is no more. But I think a lot of people's reaction is to double down: I had to suffer, or someone I know had to suffer, therefore you ought to suffer as well, or else our suffering has no meaning.

[putschki1969]

Kalafina Anniversary Live 2025 Pamphlet HQ Scans Part 3

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Interview with Hikaru

--This will be Kalafina's first live performance in about seven years. How did you feel when you found out that the concert was going to be held?

"Various emotions were going through my mind at the same time, but to sum it up in one sentence, I felt like 'we can do this'. I was beyond happy that the three of us would be able to sing Kalafina's music again, that it was actually becoming a reality. Six years had passed, so I was excited to see what would happen if the three of us sang together again."

--How did you feel when the three of you first got together to sing during a live rehearsal?

"Along with nostalgia, it brought back memories of Kalafina's chorus work. When the three of us sing together, it just feels so right. Over the past six years, I've had the opportunity to sing with many different people while working solo, but I think there is a unique sound and energy in each song that only the three of us can create."

--What did the three of you talk about during the first rehearsal?

"We had a packed schedule for our rehearsals so we weren't able to have any particularly deep discussions. We thought, 'let's just try to get in tune with each other,' so we spent our time singing with the image of regaining the feeling of being Kalafina."

--Were you able to quickly get back into the swing of things with Kalafina?

"I immediately remembered how it felt back then. However, because we had been apart for a while, even though I was able to regain that feeling, I felt that it would take a little more time to express those feelings through my singing. Those first few rehearsals really helped me see what I needed to do from now on."

--So it was necessary to re-examine what you need to do to sing as a member of Kalafina?

"That's right. We have a renewed sense of determination to do our best. Naturally, the time and experience each of us has gained working as solo artists comes into play when we get together as a trio to sing, but beyond that, there is something unchanging about Kalafina. It may be an exaggeration to say it's almost like a chemical reaction when we come together, but I want to take on the challenge once again to see how beautiful a melody we can create as a trio."

--What do you think of Wakana and Keiko's vocal appeal?

"There are many singers in the world who can produce beautiful high notes and low notes, but these two are really special to me. Wakana has always been said to be great at expressing transience and sorrow, but what's even more impressive is that her voice is not simply delicate but also has energy and strength to it. Keiko has a deep, enveloping voice, and her charm is that you can feel so much love in her cool low notes. Also, there's a new feeling to her voice that I didn't feel during the 10 years she was with Kalafina, maybe it's because she's been doing solo work that I'm able to feel this."

--The current Kalafina probably combines the unchanging things from when you were singing as a trio, and the growth that has come with your solo activities.

"Yes, I think that everyone who comes to our live show might feel this way. But of course, it's all subjective and everyone is free to feel whatever they want so even if you feel like 'Kalafina never changes no matter how much time passes' or 'this is a completely new and mature Kalafina', we will be happy. We have had 10 years as Kalafina, and 7 years by ourselves, all of this has made us who we are today."

--Now, what do you think about the appeal of Kalafina's music?

"The songs were written to suit our voices, and I think they are unique songs that make the most of each of our individual strengths. That's why it feels lonely to sing them by myself. When I first went solo, I sang Kalafina songs during my live concert and it felt so lonely that I stopped singing them after that *laughs*. Because these songs were written for the three of us to sing, I simply want to fulfill the role of Hikaru that the songs require, and I believe that by doing so, the songs will resonate more with everyone."

--What are your thoughts about all the fans who have continued to love Kalafina for such a long time?

"So many people have supported our activities over the past 10 years, and there are so many people who have continued to listen to Kalafina's music even after that, I have nothing but gratitude for them. Kalafina is really special to me, and I think that everyone has always known this. I want to convey to everyone at the live in January, 'thank you for waiting for us all this time.'"

--Finally, please tell us your thoughts about today's pamphlet photo shoot.

"It felt like it had been so long since the three of us had been together like this, we remembered the feeling of taking group photos, the distance and subsequent intimacy we felt when we were told to 'get a little closer together' *laughs*. And we even got to talk about personal things in between takes, it really felt like we were continuing right where we had left off with no gaps in between."

[wowzees]

no matter what

lando norris x reader

y/n is not used!

a/n: this is a short story from uni- i have to make a collection of them

the one i posted earlier was also one, but these have not recived feedback from my professer or have been majorly edited. enjoy!

High school felt like the longest four years of my life. Days blurred into each other, routines became a way of life, and I thought I had everything figured out. I was one of those kids who had his group of friends, the sport he played, and the classes he took, all laid out in a neat, predictable order. Nothing ever really changed.

And then, there was her.

She’d been there from the start. The girl who wasn’t just a friend,she was something more, though I never said it out loud. We’d grown up together, laughed at the same inside jokes, gotten in trouble for the same stupid things. She knew me better than anyone else, maybe even better than I knew myself. She was the one I could count on for anything. She was the one who could make me laugh on days when nothing felt right. When life got heavy, when there was uncertainty about my future, she was the one I turned to. And I thought that would never change. Or maybe I didn’t think about it at all. Why would I need to? She was always there, like a constant in my life, something I could rely on. But looking back, I see the warning signs. Small things that I chose not to notice. 

At first, it was little things— how she stopped coming to my house after school everyday. How she stopped calling me for big milestones. It’s easy to ignore changes like that. Until they hit you all at once. And then, it was too late.

Without her presence, I started hanging out with the kids from my soccer team more, and more. I told them about all my problems with her. Their solution? They wanted me to prank her. I wanted to fit in. So, I agreed.

Maybe I was too busy with soccer, or maybe I just took her for granted. But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing her the way I always had. I saw how my actions hurt her. But, somewhere along the way i stopped seeing that. I stopped seeing how my actions hurt her.

But I didn’t think much about it at the time. After all, things had always worked themselves out between us, right? I guess I never thought I’d lose her, guess I thought that she’d always be there.

How wrong I was.

And seeing her now after graduation, getting ready to go to college and saying goodbye to friends for one last time, I can't help but remember a time when things were so much simpler.

Age, 7. Grade, 2

“Lan, wait up” she yelled, peddling her feet. I slowed my bike down and turned to face her. 

“Hurry up! You're being slow.” she peddled faster. Too fast. I watched in slow motion as she rides over a rock, flies through the air as if it’s molasses, then falls in what seems the same way a feather falls through the air. Then promptly crashes into a trashcan, scattering trash all around and on top of her. 

I quickly stopped my bike and ran to her. She was sitting there, covered in trash from the trash can, pouting. As I stood over her, and saw her covered in trash, I almost laughed. “Stop! It’s really not funny” she sniffled, though she now seemed a little happier. 

“I've bin waiting for this to happen” I joke, hoping to make her laugh.

“It's really not that funny” she snorts while giggling.

 “Yeah, well you’re still laughing” I argue. As she struggles to her feet, I realize I should probably help her. As I move to put her arm around my shoulder, she shoves me off. 

“I don't need your help, butthead” she says, crossing her arms and stares at me with her lips pursed. 

“Sorry, man, chill.” I say, not really understanding why she didn't want help. 

“I got worse when I first started playing volleyball, it's just a little scrape on my knee. It’ll heal” 

"Ok "I mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

As we walked home, we talked about silly things, like how funny she looked covered in trash, or about the people we didn't like at school. Before we parted ways, she threw her arms around me and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss that was gone as soon as it started to my cheek. “Bye Lando! I'll see you tomorrow at school!” she said over her shoulder as she ran home.

“Bye” I yell, after she had already disappeared into the house, my cheeks still red.

She had always been brave in her own way. Whether it was running into a trash can then getting back up with a skinned knee and no tears, or hiding her fears behind that stubborn smile of hers, she never changed. She was always the same, brave girl I had known since I was a kid. I wish I had known then how much that bravery would change the course of our friendship.

Age, 12  Grade 7.

The ferris wheel creaked more and more the higher up it went, carrying us higher, and higher into the night sky. Below we could see the rest of the fair, all the people enjoying themselves just like we are.

Her posture was slumped, and she was practically shaking on the little metal bench that lines the side of the carriage.

“Are you scared?” I ask. This wasn't a very normal occurrence, and I was honestly a little surprised. 

“What? Me? No! Of course not. I don't get scared” she responded, her voice shaky, and honestly not very convincing. 

“Hey, it's okay if you are scared. We all have things we are scared of; it doesn't make you weak.” I say in a soft tone, understanding when to tease and when to be comforting. 

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah? Good, me neither. Honestly, it's really nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice being up here.”

“I guess it is pretty nice.”

“It's really pretty,” I say with a sigh.

“It is,” she responds with an airy voice.

Little did I know that while I was staring at the sky, she was looking at me.

Ever since that night on the ferris wheel, I had developed a liking for stars. She learned more about stars for me, though I didn't know that then. I thought it was just a coincidence, not something carefully planned. Ever since then, we would spend nights under the stars together, gazing upwards.

Age, 15. Grade 9.

“And that one’s named Altair” she said, pointing up at the brightest star in the sky.

“How do you know this?” I ask while chuckling.

“I learned it when I was in 8th grade for my science fair project. I won.”

“I know, you’ve only told me like a million times.”

“I have not!”

“Uh, yes you have.”

“Excuse yo- wow, it's like, really cold.”

“Here,” I say, shrugging my sweatshirt off. “Take it.”

“No, it's fine really. I don't need it, I’m fine.”

“If you don't take it, I’m actually gonna go insane!”

“Fine” she huffed, sticking her tongue out at me. “Thank you.” she mumbled.

“You're welcome.”

“Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“We'll always be best friends, right?”

“Of course we will. No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Back then, No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep. Before our future became closer and closer, before I found out she would be going to Yale. No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep under the soft lighting of the stars, but under the fluorescent lights in the highschool hallways, and the pressure from the guys, the promise broke apart. 

“Hey Lan!” she exclaims, coming up to me “Hey,” I respond. “Where are your glasses?” I ask. She has always loved her glasses. She always said it gave her more personality, though I disagree. She has plenty of personality already. 

“Oh, I just switched to contacts for volleyball! It's too impractical to have to play without being able to see, ya know? Do you like them?” I actually think that she looks stunning with or without glasses, but since my friends from the soccer team are with me, I just say 

“ I dunno man, it kinda makes your eyes look too close together.” I feel absolutely terrible as I practically see her deflate. Her normally radiant smile disappears, her shoulders begin to tremble, and her eyes go glassy. At first, she didn't say anything. I could practically see her brain thinking of ways to respond. She was trying to act relaxed about it, but I knew her well. She doesn't do relaxed about these types of things.

 I hear the boys snickering from behind me, making stupid comments about how “he is so right” and “how can she not see that herself?” and “why does she talk so much?”. I'm actually about to turn around and tell them to shut up, and that I am the only one allowed to tease her like that, but before I can, she says something.

“Oh. Well, uh, I should be going to class. I'll see you later, Lando,” she mumbles. Her normally confident posture seemed impossibly timid and shy. Her posture didn't say ‘see you later’.  It said ‘leave me alone’.

While she walked down the hallway, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that she didn't call me Lan .

The next few days, I tried finding her, though she kept on avoiding me. Finally, I found her sitting outside at the tables, eating her lunch alone.

“Hey” I greet softly, sitting down at the table outside. 

“What do you want?” she responded, her tone sharp. She was wearing her glasses again.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said on Tuesday.” I say, barely audible.

“If you're going to say something, say it louder.”

“I wanted to apologize for what I said.” 

“Do you? Do you really? Or is this just another sick prank you and your friends are playing on me, huh? I stood there and took it in tenth grade, when you made fun of my brother, who, by the way looks up to you, in the cafeteria. I stood there and took it in eleventh grade when you texted everyone from my phone things that I would never, ever say about someone and especially TO someone, posted things on instagram that I would NEVER post, and then humiliated me by making me think that you were seriously hurt, then jump up and say “it's a prank” after i started crying? I even stood there and took it when you told me that my eyes were too close together! The one thing you know I'm insecure about, and you make fun of it? You’ve changed Lando! You and your stupid friends have made high school horrible for me! And even though you've been rude, and you've been mean, and you've in general been a nightmare to be around, I'm still in love with you, and I have been for the last 10 years! And I'm done with this! I will not, will not sit here and let you bully me because I’m your ‘best friend’! I stayed your friend because I thought you would notice me! I thought you would realize, but you didn't! And I’m done waiting, okay? I’m done. Bye, Lando.”

By now, she was crying. Before I could respond to her and apologize, I hear laughing and jeering coming from behind me. I turn around and march over to where the boys are standing. They chuckle upon seeing me, and I absolutely lose it.

“Are you guys actually stupid? You made me lose the most important thing in my life, because you ‘thought it would be funny’? She is worth more than you guys will ever be. She was a better friend, a better athlete, but most importantly, a better person than you guys! I’m done with y’all.” 

I turn back to where she was standing, but she's not there anymore.

The next few days, I look for her. I see her a couple of times, but she always manages to avoid me. 

One night, as I’m packing for college, I hear someone knocking on the front door.

I run down the stairs, thinking it’s the pizza I ordered for me and my sister, but it’s not. It’s her.

“Uhm, I just wanted to return this.” she says, handing me my sweatshirt that i gave to her 3 years ago. “I just thought I should return it before I leave for Yale.”

“When do you leave?” I ask, fearing the answer.

“Tomorrow.” 

The second I hear that word, my world stops. I hazily thank her for bringing the sweatshirt back, then slam the door. I vaguely remember stumbling up the stairs, and sitting down on my bed, my mind running a thousand miles a minute.

 I’m going to have to live without the person who was there for me at every problem, at every bad game, at every milestone in my life, and I lost her because of my own mistakes. I lost her because I let those stupid kids influence my decisions. I lost her because I didn't know how to communicate my feelings. And now, I’ll never get her back.

I was right. I never got her back. And deep down inside, I knew I was never going to get her back. I knew this when I met Emma. I knew this when I proposed to Emma. I knew this when I invited her to our wedding. But that truly, did not prepare me for when I saw her.

“And do you, Lando Norris, take Emma Sand to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish till death do you part? ” asked the priest, his voice echoing through the church that held all of our friends and loved ones. 

“ I do.” 

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see her, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. After years of knowing her,  I could almost hear her thinking ‘that should have been me.’

And I feel horrible and disgusting and gross thinking this on my wedding day, but I'm inclined to agree. It should have been her. And it would have been, if not for my own stupidity.

And seeing her, brought me right back to all those years ago. And made me wonder; what happened to ‘no matter what.’

[kingmakerpod]

Might be an uncouth subject, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some insight on what kind of money goes into producing audio dramas (specifically when it comes to reaching out to/compensating vocal talent.) I know a lot depends on what tools and connections you already have; I'm just looking for a flexible baseline to start from and make sure I'm not cheating or insulting folks by asking them to work for peanuts. Having a target to save up for would be a huge help. Thanks so much!

(And yeah, I'll totally admit this is partly just me wondering how you fine WANA folks managed to nab Jonny Sims and Tiana Camacho for Killjam XXX; let me know if this is a question better posed via email and I'll get out of your hair, sorry for bothering!)

This isn't an uncouth question at all. It's actually a great question and we'll be happy to answer it!

It's hard to give a definitive baseline for budget beyond the cost of web hosting and audio equipment, which in itself can vary quite a bit. The yeti mic and arm set we (Meg and Henry) bought for Less is Morgue (and still record a lot of Killjam and TKH on) cost about 200 dollars. If I remember correctly the hosting costs for Less is Morgue were about 30 a month, and for Kingmaker it's 14 dollars a month. Those are the only two things you absolutely need to spend money on, so it's definitely possible to make a good quality audio drama for under a grand. In fact, we would absolutely not recommend going over a grand at this point. You definitely don't want to shoot too high with the budget for your first project. Spoken from experience, you will end up spending it on things you'll later realise weren't worth it.

The most important thing is just to put something out there first so the actors can tell that the project is real and you're not just stringing them along. The few episodes of Less is Morgue were pretty much all done in-house with a cast that was mostly people we were already friends with, and we didn't do any open auditions until midway through the season. Another way to do it is to start off as a single narrator podcast then gradually introduce a full cast as the show goes on. Other shows have released a pilot episode to the public that then serves as an advertisement for what the rest of the show will sound like. Once you have a sample of your work out there, you can start reaching out to actors.

When it comes to how you compensate your talent- just be upfront about how much money you're working with. The best way to not cheat or insult folks is by giving them realistic expectations. Don't promise money you don't have, and don't ask them to do work for something that you won't be able to finish. If you're honest and easy to work with, a lot of voice actors will be willing to adjust their rates or work for free. Speaking from a voice actor's perspective, Addison said she would be willing to work for free on a first time indie project if it seemed fun and interesting and she could tell that it was something the creator was really passionate about.

As for how we got some of our big names- it really is all about cultivating a reputation for being cool to work with. Maybe not the most useful advice for a first project, but it will be useful later, and it is true. At this point the WANA core four have been involved in The NoSleep Podcast, Congeria, Less is Morgue, The Kingmaker Histories and Mayfair Watcher's Society, and that's only counting the stuff that more than one of us have been involved with. Every project we try to make loads of friends. Eventually you will have enough mutual friends with enough people that you can just hit up Jonny Sims and Tiana Camancho, because someone you know worked with them on some other thing and they're willing to vouch for you.

[orangetintedglasses]

No, no way-- the last time he'd demanded that they push further when they should've stopped, Wolfwood woke up the next morning sick as a dog; while there had been other factors at play (they'd just spent nearly two weeks working nonstop in that poorly-ventilated facility) Vash really didn't want to risk his companion's health like that again. No, this had to be the last one. Pushing Wolfwood like that because of his own selfish desire was just... not right--

But what Vash could do was revel in the sight (and the sounds, God the sounds he was making were divine) of his debauched boyfriend. He could up his pace again and fuck into him harder, rougher; dig his teeth into the undertaker's calf (not hard enough to break the skin! It's the only place he can reach with his mouth!) and his nails into the meat of taut, muscular thighs as he pulled Wolfwood's legs further up and over his shoulders, just to get that little bit closer.

sogood so hot Wolfwood perfect feelgoodwantyoutofeel good Wolfwood so good

Something inside of Vash... strained, however, focused as he was on the phrase 'natural instincts'. Let his natural instincts take over, Wolfwood had said-- asked for --but a Plant's natural instincts were.. different, compared to that of a human's. A human's natural instincts were to survive; to breed and repopulate and protect and thrive against all odds, even if that sometimes also meant 'at all costs'. That was what was so amazing about them-- their adaptability born of their own limitations; exceeding and advancing all the time without stopping, despite everything thrown in their way...

But a Plant's natural instincts were to provide. They gave the humans what they needed, what they asked for... and while Vash did have some survival instincts, they were learned. Not his base instincts. At his core, in this moment, Vash wanted nothing more than to provide for his human. His beloved human, beautiful and marvelous as he writhed beneath him, abuzz with the pleasure that his Plant provided, slamming into him-- hitting and dragging his cock against that spot inside that made those fireworks go off behind Wolfwood's eyes --again and again and again...

The bedsprings groaned in utter protest against the speed and force of the Plant's pisitoning hips. Heavy, panting breaths softened into quiet huffs, barely audible over the obscene smack of skin on skin. At some point, his patterns brightened, and buds of feathers gathered and burst rapidly-- larger than they'd been before and coming up in new spots, sprouting from scars and pock marks and along the length of his collar bone on that side...

Vash didn't notice. Vash wasn't thinking about anything but Wolfwood, and pleasure, and keeping his partner full and satisfied until the very end--

I dunno, screaming yelling and scratching sounds like a good time to me

As he thinks this cheeky thought, Wolfwood's arms spread out behind him and grip the mattress from the sides. Vash sinks deeper, drawing out a short gasp from the undertaker and causing his eyes to roll upwards. Fresh sweat threatens to drip down his temples—partially due to exertion, yes, but there's this still unspoken tension between them that would drive him to tears, if he were better with his emotions.

Wolfwood can feel the roll of his hips, his joints complaining along with the stress of his muscles stretching in his thighs, but the twinges of pain are nothing compared to the bliss twisting through his stomach. He bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes, allowing an absolutely debauched groan to slip through his teeth. Hot breath, hot blood, hot all throughout his body—it's so hot.

"Y-you... you sound like you're gonna want more than just one more... a-ah... nnh..."

He moans as his abdomen curls with each push and pull—he helps where he can with his strength because he can. Both of them are beyond human; they can challenge and even push each others' boundaries in so many aspects, especially physical. Their bodies are capable of the impossible sometimes, and it's always fun to find out just what that entails. He's still caught up on those vines though, for some reason.

Each of Vash's thrusts are punctuated with a gasp from Wolfwood. Nothing huge—just a small, 'ah—ah—ah—.' He hardly realizes that's him making those sounds, and he definitely doesn't realize there's drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth. The undertaker loses himself fully to pleasure for once in his life, and can't think enough to call himself a sinner. He might even be smiling with his open mouth, mind becoming a pleasant fog of Vash. Sunbeams file through the mental fog and it's like a little slice of heaven that only has room for him and the blond on top of him.

He can't control the way that his body begins to squirm with stimulation, that his back arches and twists, or that his face retreats to the sheets, teeth sinking into the thin fabric.

"Y-yeah... Vash... l-like that—j-just—ahhh... fuck... f-fuck..."

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 12]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of prior character death, mourning/ grieving, going to a grave site.

"Good afternoon. How can I hel- Hongjoong, what can I do for you? I wasn't supposed to come in today, was I?" Your eyes widened as you scrambled for your phone, wanting to check what day of the week it was. Maybe you were not supposed to open your store today.

You've only been working at the mansion for about 2 weeks so you were still getting used to the schedule of going there to work.

"No, no, (y/n). It's not a work day today, I actually came for another reason." He cleared his throat. You nodded your head slowly, waiting for him to say something.

"I know your store is open today but my mother's grave is completed, I was just told this morning." He informed.

"Oh, already..." You replied.

"Yeah, I guess it's faster than I expected. But anyway, I was about to go see and was wondering if you would like to come with me." Hongjoong asked.

"What...?" It took a while for his question to sink in. You were not family, why would he ask you?

"If you're okay with closing your store, the decision is up to you. I could bring you another day if you'd like." He offered.

"No, it's not that... Uh..." You didn't really know what to say or how to react.

"(y/n), if you're not ready. That's fine too. We can go another day." Hongjoong spoke in a much softer tone. He could sense and see the distraught on your face but didn't know the true reason why you were hesitant. Seonghwa was the one that suggested he ask you along to his mother's grave site.

It was good advice. But Hongjoong was worried, would you judge his indifferent reaction when you were both there? What if you cried and he didn't?

"N-No, I'm ready. We can go. All the orders today have been collected. Just... give me a sec." You collected yourself to reply him.

"Of course. Take your time." He said. You nodded and gestured for him to take a seat at the work table while you went to lock the front door up and turned your sign to 'CLOSED'.

"I'll just make a bouquet for her." You informed him and went to pick out the flowers.

"Let me pay for it." He stood up, fishing for his wallet.

"No need to." You shook your head as you headed to the work table. Hongjoong watched as you skillfully trimmed the flowers and put them together, wrapping them with a nice, sage green paper.

"Would you like a separate bouquet from you?" You asked him when you were finished.

"It's fine, just one from you is sufficient." He replied, looking at his phone to avoid eye contact with you. You didn't protest or argue, merely nodding and going to grab your things. You hung up your apron and went to the bathroom to adjust your clothes and hair.

"I'm ready to go. Thank you for waiting, I wanted to be a little bit more presentable." You smoothed your dress down.

"There's time to go back to your place to change, if you want to." Hongjoong informed you as you picked up the bouquet to cradle it in your arms.

"I'm good. Thank you." You bowed your head. Once Hongjoong and you were outside, you locked the back door.

"This way." He led you to the car. Despite Seonghwa's advice to take a driver, Hongjoong insisted on driving his own car on his own.

"Thank you." You gave him a small smile when he opened the passenger seat door for you to enter. You laid the bouquet in your lap, careful to not let the flowers get ruined.

"Wow." As Hongjoong went to the driver's side, you looked around the interior of the car.

"You have a nice car." You blurted out.

"Thanks." Hongjoong, for the first time that day, smiled. He even let out a little chuckle at your abruptness. Of course it was a nice car, a Porsche 911 Heritage, it wasn't easy for Yunho and Mingi to procure it. But it was one of Hongjoong's dream cars and he loved putting the roof down to drive in the country side.

"Would you like to put the roof down?" Hongjoong asked as he started the engine. Your eyes sparkled with curiosity before you shyly nodded your head.

"Alright." Hongjoong pressed the button and you watched as the roof folded and tucked itself in the trunk.

"That's cool." You said. Thankfully, it wasn't sunny out. And you didn't know that Hongjoong was doing all this to lighten the mood.

"Let's go." Hongjoong played some soft hip hop songs in the background before beginning to drive. You carefully held the bouquet as you looked out the window.

The wind felt nice against your cheeks and it didn't feel so stuffy as it would have been in an enclosed car.

"Tell me if it's too warm or uncomfortable and I'll close the roof." Hongjoong said as he drove.

"Okay." You nodded. Even though the car ride was enjoyable, you couldn't help the way your heart was racing as you got nearer to your destination, it was like an impending doom.

Your fingers nervously drummed against your knees. You told yourself you needed to maintain your composure and your emotions in front of Hongjoong, even if you didn't know what your reaction would be when you get there.

"I... didn't prepare any offerings... We can stop by a fruit store if you want." Hongjoong said.

"It's okay. Maybe next time." You replied. You didn't ask Hongjoong why, he must have his reasons for not preparing anything, and you didn't want to make him feel guilty either.

Soon, all the buildings disappeared and you saw all the graves come into view, all lined up on the green fields.

"We're here." Hongjoong parked the car by the side of the road.

"Take your time, (y/n). There's no need to rush." That was the most he could comfort you with. He knew if he went any further, he would be crossing the line.

"T-Thanks." Your voice was shaky, an indicator of your nervousness. You looked out at the fields, not knowing which was Mrs Kim's.

"Okay, let's go." You looked at Hongjoong. He nodded and got out of the car, coming over to open the door for you.

"Follow me." He checked his phone for the directions that the cemetery director had provided him earlier this morning. You walked behind him, careful not to disturb or trip over the other graves. Hongjoong would occassionally stop and look over at you to make sure that you were okay.

"Should be right here." Hongjoong stopped and checked the name on the grave, it was his mother's name and her picture. You looked, indeed it was her.

"Go ahead." You said before Hongjoong could ask you to go first. It was only right, he was her real, biological son.

"Um..." Hongjoong felt so awkward because he didn't know what to say. You moved back a little in case he wanted some privacy.

"Hey... I brought (y/n) here. You probably want to see her more than me at this point... I'll let her do the talking, there's nothing much for me to say to you." Hongjoong mumbled with a bow.

You couldn't really hear what he said but it did sound like he mentioned your name to her, not that you would pry.

"I'm done. Not much for me to tell her." Hongjoong said to you. You nodded and stepped forward.

"I'll move to give you privacy-"

"Please don't... Could you... stay here? Please?" You cut him off, almost begging him. He was shocked by your request, he assumed you would have wanted to speak to his mother privately. But nonetheless, he nodded his head and just stood behind you.

"Hi, omonim. How have you been? I hope you've been well, I'm glad your resting place is finally complete. I-I brought you your favourites." You stuttered as you laid the bouquet down.

"I miss you... Sometimes... I wish it's still you walking through the door..." You smiled softly as tears welled up in your eyes.

"But I hope you're at peace now, free from everything." You quickly wiped your stray tears.

"I'll come visit you more often, bring your favourite tea and snacks. Just like when you used to come during lunch or tea time to chat with me." You smiled through the tears.

Hongjoong watched from the back, you genuinely had a connection with his mother. You spoke more fondly of her than he ever did.

It was like you were her real child while he was the stranger.

"Sorry." You wiped your tears and stood up to face Hongjoong. Seeing your tears, Hongjoong felt a slight ache in his chest. A feeling he has never felt before.

Screw it, Hongjoong wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his chest. Right now, he knew you needed comforting, he didn't care about lines and boundaries. He could feel you hesitate for a few seconds before your hands gripped the material of his suit jacket and you softly cried into his chest.

As he held you, he looked over at his mother's grave behind you. Not once, since the news of her passing, has he cried. While you have cried a lot for her.

Yes, maybe the feeling in his chest was some sort of twisted guilt for not crying over his own mother's passing.

"Sorry." You cried. You didn't want to breakdown and cry, much less cry on Hongjoong's chest but you couldn't help all the emotions.

"It's okay..." He replied in a whisper.

Hongjoong and you stood there, he didn't make a move until you were ready to let go first. And once you regained composure, you did that. You pulled away and wiped your remaining tears away.

"I'm so sorry!" You said, horrified at the wet patch that was now on Hongjoong's shirt and the crumpled ends of his jacket where you had gripped too hard.

"It's fine, (y/n). Don't worry." He assured, patting your head. You felt your cheeks heat up at that gesture.

"We can go now..." You said softly.

"Are you sure?" He asked. You nodded your head. Hongjoong let you say goodbye to his mother, he didn't want or feel the need to, then you both headed back to the car. After you got in, Hongjoong kept the hood up, unsure if you wanted to just relax in the car.

"Can we put the top down again?" You requested. He hummed and pressed the button to put the hood down. With that, he began to drive out of the cemetery.

As he drove, Hongjoong glanced to the side, seeing you close your eyes as you felt the wind against you.

"I don't know how I'll be in a normal car again." You suddenly spoke with a smile on your face.

"Well, whenever you want to go for a drive, let me know." He chuckled. Hearing you say that, Hongjoong decided to take a longer route for you to enjoy the scenery for a bit.

"Would you like to go for some food or do you want to go home?" He asked.

"I don't mind going for food, if you don't have to go back to work." You turned to him with slight worry on your face.

"They don't need me. Let's go." Hongjoong said. You didn't know where he was taking you but you were fine to let him choose, you were not a picky eater.

"Hope you're okay with street food." Hongjoong told you as he parked the car by the street and pulled the hood up. You looked up at the restaurant selling street food, you were not expecting this. For some reason, you had the impression that Hongjoong and his brothers only ate at expensive places.

"I love street food." You replied. He smiled and came out, going to open the door for you. The both of you found a table by the side to sit together.

"Hongjoong sshi, what can I get you?" An older lady came to take your order.

"What would you like?" Hongjoong asked.

"Gimmari and soondae, please." You requested. Hongjoong added that to the order, adding on some other regular stuff like odeng soup and tteokbokki.

"Coming right up." The lady and Hongjoong exchanged friendly smiles before she walked to the kitchen.

"You come here often? The lady seems to know you." You asked as poured the tea into cups and handed one to him. He received it with a bow of his head and took a sip of the cold tea.

"Yeah, you probably thought that I only eat at expensive restaurants, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, you kind of stick out with your suit..." You mumbled, embarrassed that he somehow knew what you were thinking.

"Well, I don't blame you for assuming that. My brothers and I do usually eat at nice restaurants because of business and somtimes because my brothers own those restaurants. But that doesn't mean we don't enjoy our street food." Hongjoong said.

"Your brothers own restaurants?" You asked.

"Yeah, there are others too. They branch out into all different types of industries. It's good for overall business and they're passionate about it." Hongjoong shrugged.

"Wow... That's impressive." You said. You suddenly felt so small, you were just a florist. Who were you compared to them?

"Here we go." The lady came with a tray, placing all the dishes in front of you two.

"Thank you." You and Hongjoong said together. She smiled at the two of you and left. Hongjoong reached over to take the cutlery from the box and handed a set to you.

"Eat up. We can order more if there isn't enough." Hongjoong encouraged. A nice silence settled over the two of you as you ate.

"The food is really good." You said as you chewed.

"Told you." There was almost a proud smile on Hongjoong's face. You watched as he avoided all the vegetables on the plate. You tried your best not to snicker, remembering how Mrs Kim told you that Hongjoong never liked to eat his vegetables. But you didn't want to ruin the mood by mentioning Mrs Kim.

"I just don't like vegetables... If I can choose not to eat them, I don't." Hongjoong said, noticing you were staring.

"Ah! I wasn't judging..." You shook your head. Hongjoong snorted, thinking he caught you in a lie. But thinking about Mrs Kim again made you feel a little sad.

"My mother told you that about me, didn't she?" Hongjoong knew from the expression on your face.

"I..." You didn't know what to say.

"It's fine, (y/n). At some point, I have to come to terms with the fact that your relationship with my mother is vastly different from mine." He said. You looked down, not wanting to meet eyes with him.

"It's not your fault and I shouldn't have made you feel like it was." He continued, remembering what the other Ateez members told him.

"No, Hongjoong. It's okay. I... I understand." You said.

"Let me go get more soup." Hongjoong stood up, taking the bowl to go to the front. You looked at his back as the lady refilled your shared bowl then she reached over to pat his shoulder with a smile on his face as they conversed.

"Hyung! What a coincidence to meet you here!" Loud voices were heard from the entrance and your gaze shifted to see Yunho, Wooyoung and San standing at the entrance of the store.

"What are you guys doing here?" Hongjoong hissed with a frown on his face.

"We just went to the casino and wanted to drop by for a bite. It was really a coincidence." Yunho grinned.

"I don't know what you're up to... But go away." Hongjoong glared. He took the soup and headed back to your table. But of course, they didn't listen to the captain.

"Hey, (y/n)." Yunho greeted. You gave a shy wave to all 3 of them.

"Do you mind if we take a seat?" Wooyoung asked. You nodded, gesturing to them to sit down.

"You can tell them to go, you know?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at you. Your eyes widened, you definitely did not have the courage to tell the 3 of them to leave.

"She won't do that. She's not as mean as you, hyung." San scoffed. You've only been working at their house for 2 weeks so you were still getting to know them. One thing for sure was that despite their fierce looks, they were all really nice and for some reason, really liked to mess with Hongjoong.

"Get your own food." Hongjoong scolded, slapping Wooyoung's hand when he wanted to steal of a piece of soondae.

"It's o-okay! I d-don't mind." You stuttered, shaking your hands. They were the ones that approached you first as you were working, showing their friendly side and trying to become 'friends' with you.

"I want kimbap." San said. Yunho raised his hand to add more food orders. Your eyes widened at the amount of food they added on.

"They're big eaters." Hongjoong said to you.

"I can tell..." You giggled, watching Wooyoung pour their tea. San's injuries looked a lot better, compared to when you first went to the house and bumped into him.

"Your order is here." The lady came back and put all the food down. Your eyes widened at all the dishes.

"You'll get used to it soon." Wooyoung winked. You blinked in confusion while Hongjoong flicked a toothpick at him.

"Don't listen to him." Hongjoong said, checking his phone.

"You guys snuck out? Hwa is looking for all of you." Hongjoong looked up from the device with a frown of disapproval at the 3 sitting at the table. The 3 just gave innocent shrugs, continuing to eat their food, while Hongjoong replied to Seonghwa.

"Do you always sneak out of work?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"When you own the company, it's called an 'extended lunch break'." San corrected with a playful smirk. Hongjoong let out a long sigh and shook his head.

"Please don't think the entire company is like that, most of us are actually hardworking." Hongjoong said.

"Hey, we're hardworking too, hyung. We just like to take breaks." Yunho rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, not all of us are workaholics." Wooyoung added. Hongjoong facepalmed, there was no way he was winning against the 3 who were against him.

"Since we're done with our food, I can take you home now, if you want." Hongjoong said to you, ignoring the others.

"Aww, wait for us. We're almost done too." Yunho added.

"We can wait for them. I'm not in a rush to go back home or anything." You said.

"(y/n), you shouldn't be giving in to them, it's not good. Don't start giving into them and what they want." Hongjoong adviced. You giggled at his words, he was speaking about them like he was their father. It was nice to see such a dynamic between them, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were very much like parents to the rest.

"Nonsense. Don't listen to him. We're great, the life of the party! You'll always have fun with us." Wooyoung winked, slinging his arm around your shoulders.

"That somehow does sound unsettling." You chuckled, making the rest at the table laugh.

"Wooyoung. Arm." Hongjoong pointed out with a threatening glare. Wooyoung did obediently remove his arm from you.

"I'm taking (y/n) home." Hongjoong declared.

"See you next time, (y/n)." The 3 were honestly not that bothered, they would see you when you came to work at the mansion anyway, much to Hongjoong's annoyance.

~

Series masterlist

[forevergoldgame]

Episode 1 Progress Update, Part 2

We're in the process of putting all the story scenes we've written in-engine! As we go, Dan's hacking through the remaining art assets, and I'm tying up some loose ends related to systems and variable storage.

Keep reading for more details!

Writing, writing, writing

At this point, the draft mentioned in the previous update has been more or less fully realized. There's still plenty of editing to do, of course, but the episode's narrative is complete aside from a collection of short variable scenes.

We won't reveal too many specifics just yet, but the scope of Episode 1 will take you from Quincy's last day as mine inspector through to the christening of the Prince's Convoy. Along the way, you'll meet most everyone from the demo (save for Oscar and Imani) as well as a few characters you haven't, make foundational choices about the kind of man Quincy is, and actually get a proper introduction to the setting and conflict.

Changes to: art, character designs

You may have noticed some of the portraits in these screencaps are different from the demo. Once Episode 1 is out, it will be much harder to make design changes, and so we've decided to take the opportunity to revise a few character designs we weren't happy with. Nothing too crazy, but you might see a change of hair style or color here and there.

Art updates might happen here and there throughout development as Dan's work evolves, but the character designs themselves are less likely to such alterations after release. (Not counting diegetic changes in appearance, of course.)

[PICTURED: Dan's faltering suspension of disbelief over Lucas's ability to continuously dye his roots while traveling. ]

Changes to: systems, traits, and more

As we wrote Episode 1, I spent a lot of time rethinking the back end. Writing an entire episode gave me perspective on how the systems I wrote for the demo did and didn't work. I could talk at length about this, but most of said systems (like experience/leveling and reputation) were not represented in the demo due to its small scope. Seeing as no one would really understand or appreciate the details, I'll try to keep it brief instead.

LEVELING: Originally, leveling was going to be based on earning experience points. EXP would be awarded for completing quests and attempting skill checks, but we found that pacing an EXP curve in a game like this was a lot of work for a system which is ultimately at odds with a story based more on "narrative" than "winning." In the end, we did away with the concept of EXP in favor of a leveling system that is tied to main story progression.

REPUTATION: You may recall from the demo that Quincy's statistics listed a few different reputation continuum: rebel or orthodox, apathetic or ambitious, and so on. These were going to be tallies that kept track of the player's cumulative actions so that the system could easily calculate how certain characters felt about Quincy in a somewhat organic way. However, once we got writing, we realized the system was needlessly complicated, full of logistical holes, and redundant with other decision tracking handled by other parts of the system. And so, I replaced it with...

IDEALS: Ideals are somewhat like traits in that they alter text pertaining to Quincy's inner monologue and offer the player special dialog options. However, unlike traits, Quincy's ideals are somewhat malleable. If a Quincy with the "earnest" ideal continuously lies at every opportunity... well, eventually someone will notice.

AFFINITY/FRIENDSHIP: Much like reputation, the affinity system from the demo was both overly complicated and too simple to do what it needed. We knew we wanted something more organic than the standard "you completed my sidequest so now I'm in love with you because you're the main character" RPG approach since Forever Gold is more story-based, but the solution I came up with... was stupid.

I won't say how the new affinity system works - it'd spoil some of the magic if I told you exactly what actions the game was tracking and why - but it's simple on the back end while having enough complexity to create interesting roleplaying.

TRAITS: Traits have largely remained the same but have gained more importance as other systems shifted. In addition to the eight available to choose in the demo, there are three more to see in Episode 1. A few of them have been tweaked or renamed for clarity: the two traits that shared the name "Haretouched" are now called "Pariah" and "Maverick" to prevent confusion, and "Cleithrophobic" has been expanded into "Wilding" so that it better acts as a parallel quirk to Plutonist.

BETTER TOUCH CONTROLS FOR MOBILE + SMOOTHER NAVIGATION FOR DESKTOP: As it says on the tin. A lot of navigation that felt like it should have been swipeable on mobile or scrollable on desktop wasn't. But it is now!

In closing...

We're getting there. Man are we getting there. We've been pulling crazy hours on this lately.

-LS

[knuiui]

╮TWST Boys feat. "What's your perfume type? "

♡ HEARTSLABYUL ❣

the dorm based on the strict queen of hearts! since that 'certain' fiasco just a week after you and yuuken arrived the first friends you had is from this dorm! you still hangout with them from time to time especially during unbirthday parties! pictures of your outfits for the event always go viral.

╰ Riddle Rosehearts ♥

you and him got close after 'that' incident. you consider him as a smol hedgehog that needed to be protected 🥺 he almost dropped kicked your knee caps after you said that /j. but on serious note, riddle considers you as one of the most hard working person he's ever met aside from his mother. he'd been the witness of your grueling hours of practice just to get a character's accent right (yk cause you're not from here) and study what type of character you're playing as. he wished you'd take care of yourself more though. relaxing is good okay! he's been through the same road and he'd hate to see you suffer some sort of breakdown like he did, minus the homicidal tendencies.

he's seen that video. It practically went viral over at twistok the moment it was said to be you participating in the "What's your perfume type?" kind of questions.

acts cool but is actually panicking on the inside. really considered changing his perfume to match whatever you said was your type.

he didn't get to ofc. that perfume was practically sold out within 24 hours of the viral video being posted. you're fans really are very dedicated. instead he opted for a new fragrance that caught his eye while browsing the store.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Amouage, CRIMSON ROCKS

cater later did the whole trend as well for the members of heartslabyul dorm and asked him the question, he glared for a little bit before answering and hastily turning back to his books. if you squint you can see the tips of his ears almost color matched the shade of his hair.

he answered, "[your perfume]"

╰ Trey Clover ♣

this handsome mf almost had you groveling for him jk. you two has always been in good terms even before the whole heartslabyul fiasco, you darn nearly kneeled on one knee after he gave you a box of his divinely baked sweets. now he's the one that always supplies you snacks whenever you're at nrc campus for practice aside from jamil ofc. he admires how dedicated you are in getting all your scenes on one take. though, he wished you'd take time and eat properly, he can see how small the portion of the foods he brought you actually ate. you insists you'll eat it later but he's not having any of it. mom friend tbh.

of course he saw the video. he might not look like he uses social media daily but he does actually use it a lot more that an average person, his family's bakery has to advertise their products somehow yk?

when he came across it it didn't bother him that much. but now that he thinks about it, didn't his perfume ran out just a week ago? well maybe it's time for some replacement after all.

you'd think that trey is the kind of guy that prefers mild perfume or even something with vanilla on it, considering he always works with sweets. well he likes to subvert expectations sometimes.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Jo Malone, WOOD SAGE & SEA SALT

cater commented the same when it's trey's turn for the twistok trend. trey just smiled casually.

his answer to the question is, "[your perfume]" of course.

╰ Cater Diamond ♦

your bff. besties for life. he's the first one you actually really got along with, because his personality resembles a past friend of yours. you two have weekly meet ups at cute cafes or at the mall to chat and gossip about stuff. Oh sevens, mostly gossip actually. you two are the most knowledgeable with gossips and rumors that are floating around NRC and the entire internet in general. if people think their secret is safe with you, no honey, their secret is safe with you AND cater <3. you've definitely used a picture of his side profile or his back, in one of your stories and the internet almost bursted into flames at the prospect of you, the goddess amongst men dating someone. cater later dropped a short behind the scene video of you using instructing him to pose very non-celeb lover like style. the internet almost collapsed for the second time that day.

that original video has tens of millions of views on twistok, you'd have to be living in a rock or a house with bad wi-fi to have not been aware of its existence.

he's kinda chill with it on the outside, but the background of his latest magicam pictures that includes bottles of perfume and a few boxes of a certain women's perfume says otherwise.

if it's his perfume that you answered with he'd be all smug about it, even posting a story holding a full ass brand new bottle of it. but if it's not it's fine ig not, he'd feel indifferent of the matter because his own perfume is actually picked and gifted to him by you <3.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Chanel, PLATINUM EGOISTE

immediately did the trend a day after the video of you doing it was uploaded. he's bummed that he didn't get to do the trend with you first though.

he'd mysteriously winked at the camera after answering, "[your perfume] girls are goddesses, y'all are drop dead gorgeous <3."

╰ Deuce Spade ♠

this doofus is a part of yuu's gang of idiots of course you two are close! you treat him like your little brother at times ouch. deuce often tags along yuu when he visits your sets, he'd only ever seen your neat and crisp appearance when you're in NRC uniform so imagine his gobsmacked face when he saw your disheveled appearance on set (you have to play a captured hostage). he almost called crewel because he knows that his professor would definitely fly into a rage if he saw his precious daughter covered in dirt and soot, ... yuu had to explain to him while you died laughing in the corner. he definitely teared up when he finally saw you acting out a gut wrenching scene for your character. deuce has always believed that you're special beyond your lack of magical prowess and finally he has been proven right.

ace showed him a video, it has clips of the viral one of you doing the twistok trend but the poster added screenshots of the perfumes you mentioned.

if it's not his perfume that you mentioned he definitely deflated a little bit, it's fine though, his mother bought a bunch of perfumes and she gave him his perfume because it's a bundle freebie with hers.

considered changing his perfume to the one you mentioned but he took one look at his wallet and that idea was shut down immediately.

but, if you chose the perfume carolina herrera good girl, he'll definitely malfunction on the spot. because his mom told him that perfume specifically is the partner of his own.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Carolina Herrera, BAD BOY

when cater came up to him asking what his perfume is, he innocently answered. this poor oblivious boy..

he only realized that it's the twistok trend when he saw the video cater posted, he sulked a little bit but did not regret his answer.

he'd blink then say, "Oh, Carolina herrera I think? the pink shoe one. " quite proudly, it's his mom's perfume.

╰ Ace Trappola 🂡

both of you hated each other's guts. considering the fact that you saw him fighting grim and insulting yuu, adding that his brash personality is very much exaggerated to you by the said cat. ace is definitely the least favorite of yours in yuu's band of idiots. this mf also doesn't know how to watch his tone so when he joked about something it sounded more like an insult. but long story short you two get along the second best now. disregarding the fact that you two almost became enemies to lovers got off the wrong foot, you two usually hang out in this quiet spot near the gym whenever he has basketball practice and you need a quiet place to do script readings the tranquility of the area are only ever broken when a loud screeching from floyd would ring from inside the gym.

yeah, yeah, he's seen it. heck! practically everyone has. he'd always be enchanted by your smell but now he knows what perfume to gift you once you ran out of a bottle <3

he'd act so nonchalant about it you wouldn't notice he'd subtly try to change his perfume however like deuce, he took a look at his savings and it said 'nope'!

he'll be a smug fucker if you said his perfume's name tho

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Killian, BLACK PHANTOM

he'd blinked whe cater said the question while simultaneously shoving his phone to his face, then he smirks smugly and say,

"[your perfume], of course" while looking straight to the camera, as if talking to someone.

you're very loved by Heartslabyul, darling! Make sure to not forget to drop by sometimes very soon! they just miss you so much, your busy schedule be damned there will be an unbirthday party next week make sure to wear your best dress, beloved Alice! ~

[burningfeathersx]

Lucifer was continuing to be concerned, though the two of them seemed to find this information much less alarming. So while the armor was being removed and the IV lined in he considered it from an angle of non-plussed-ness.

He blinked once while being hugged and leaned into it. Must be fine. A figure of speech, maybe? He had a wisp of awareness for what those were building up somewhere. Must be a figure of speech. No one else was treating this matter very seriously.

The saucer eyes faded away. Then his eyes closed. Resting without sleeping while this was all going on. The blood would be compatible enough. At the very least, it wasn't noxious or contagious like that of a sludge-Stan-demon's and that was enough for his body to repurpose and work with.

After the laughing had petered out for Eli, he seemed to ponder the actual situation itself. He got prayers and the more direct 'mail' from angels more than plenty over the years. Much of it misguided. Some of it genuine. Wasn't that he couldn't. Mostly that he wouldn't. Life is a big experiment on the whole. And his attitude of the Old Testament had long since passed--he also didn't get much involved. Life was supposed to toddle along and stumble around and include the full gamut of good and bad experiences. Hell, he was just a cog in it too, really. Not exactly the All-Powerful Know-It-All he was portrayed as.

Anyway, getting something from Lucifer that sounded not only honest, but lacked any bite?

He was going to have a peek. He could do that by being everywhere-at-once-when-he-wanted to lean ever so slightly past the doorway.

Oh, shit, that sure is some damage. He'd seen a lot of dead and killed angels, but not too many that close to brink that weren't also trying to pry a weapon out of their chest. Damn.

Who--why--whe--He knew his own answers. Had to hold back a tsk. Leaning back out of sight.

Vox would nod at Irene - good, at least Lucifer would be able to stay comfortable while being treated. He let Irene help settle Lucifer down into the bed, pausing at her mentioning needing a bowl for the - wait what?

There was a swirling circle loading on his screen before he realized what she was implying, earning a bit of a nervous laugh. "Oh, right. Yeah, I'll go grab that." By the time he excited the room, the doctor's assistants would be returning with the necessary equipment and blood bags, setting things up.

They would begin placing the IV needle in once removing the gauntlet, careful not to agitate Lucifer. Vox had returned by then, trying to interrupt anything as he stepped out of the way and passed the bowl down to Irene and offered a comforting smile to Lucifer.

"The blood should work out fine, he's never had issues eating stuff or using blood from here before, so..." To reassure Irene as well.

@kingdomofbellows

[natnatscorner]

Not used to this

﹒⪩⪨﹒﹒⪩⪨﹒﹒⪩⪨﹒﹒⪩⪨﹒

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summary: You and the pogues have always gotten along. They all love you, except for one.. that would be JJ Maybank and not for the reason you'd think.

based on this request!

word count: 762

cw: none, fluffy

masterlist - outer banks masterlist

It's Friday night here in Outer Banks, and there's a small soiree for Kooks at the beach. Instead of going to enjoy yourself with your friends, you're working the night as a server since you need the community service hours. It's not too bad thankfully you're just serving food and drinks after all.

You stumble upon your pogue friends and Sarah. You decide to go towards them, giving them a sweet smile and wave. "Hey guys! I didn't expect to see you here." At the table are Kiara, Pope, John B, Sarah, and JJ. "Hey Y/N we decided to stop by for a bit, check it out maybe go to a party after." voiced John B. "Sounds fun! Can I get you guys anything a drink, something to eat? Night's been pretty slow surprisingly."

Pope was about to say something before JJ cut him off "We're not helpless Y/N, if we want something we'll get up and get it. Okay?" he spat. "Woah JJ, calm down I'm just doing my job, sorry for being a bother." You waved goodbye and walked away, feelings deeply hurt by his rough tone.

You're not sure why JJ acted like that towards you. You've always been nice to him and his friends, and treated them with respect, unlike others. It's okay if not everyone likes you, but there should be a reason why he treats you this way, right?

"JJ c'mon man, why'd you do that? She's always sweet towards us and you talk to her like that." John B and the group continued to scold JJ until he finally got up to apologize. "OKAY! I'm going, damn guys" He holds his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes as he walks towards you.

﹒⪩⪨﹒﹒⪩⪨﹒﹒⪩⪨﹒﹒⪩⪨﹒

You're working the bar, making some mocktails. You're still thinking about JJ and how he spoke to you. Deep in your thoughts, you hear someone call your name. You turn around and speak of the devil—it's JJ.

"Hey uh, can we go somewhere and talk?" He asks quietly, looking a little embarrassed.

"Sure, let me just finish these drinks up. It won't long don't worry." You give him a quick smile and continue with your work. That damn smile he thought. Once you finish you let another server know you're taking a quick break. You both walk a few feet away from the venue and pause.

"Okay, what was it that you wanted to talk about?" You asked sweetly.

"I uh- just wanted to apologize for the way I acted earlier, you don't deserve to be talked to that way." He said feeling lots of guilt building up. He doesn't want to come off rude to you, he knows that you are a kind-hearted person, but then again you're a Kook and they're all the same in the end, right?

"Hey it's okay, I get it. You think Kooks are assholes and trust me some check that box off but we're not all like that JJ. I mean look at Sarah, you like her, don't you? And she's dating John B, they seem to be doing really good despite being from different sides of the island. "

"I guess what I'm trying to ask is, why do you treat me like this?" You look up at him directly in the eyes.

He looks away from you and sighs. "I-I don't know. I feel really bad right now and I can't give you a real answer. I mean you're so kind to me, I guess I'm just not used to a pretty Kook like you being so kind. Based on the people I've seen you hang around, just didn't think you'd be like this.."

"You think I'm pretty?" You ask, crossing your arms with a big smile.

"Yeah, of course. You're beautiful Y/N." He looks at you smiling back.

You let out a small giggle. "Come here ya big dope." You go in to hug him. He's hesitant at first but after a few seconds, you feel him wrap his arms around your waist.

"So am I forgiven?" he asks still in the embrace.

You force yourself to pull back. "Yes JJ, of course." Looking at the time, you still have a good amount of time left. "Wanna walk around for a bit? I still have another 10 minutes."

"Sure why not?" You wrap your arm around his and walk around the beach admiring the sunset. Talking about the most stupid things ever until your break is up.

You still can't believe the reason he was so mean was because he actually had a crush on you? Definitely something you're not used to.

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