#Balanced Conveyor Belt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaciidubs · 11 months ago

Text

Catnip and Kidnappings

Hi, 🧿 nonnie! This one's been a long time coming, and though it doesn't have much smut, I hope you still enjoy it! ❣ Summary: You just needed to go to the pet store for two things - so why were you suddenly in a car with a man you didn't know? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 2.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Mafia! AU, fluff, meet cute, implied danger, slight humor, cat talk, reader is a bit sassy but so is Minho ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Two things. You just needed two things from the pet store, then you would be back home with your lovely tabby cat and show you’d been putting off for the better half of two weeks because it just ‘wasn’t the right time’.

So how, you ask, did you manage to find yourself hurriedly escorted away from the storefront of the pet store by a man you’d just met?

Well, you could target the beginning of the end the moment you stepped foot into the pet store, making your way to the cat aisle on instinct with your goal clear in your mind; catnip and premium cat food.

Premium cat food - you wished you could trick your furry child into eating a cheaper form of food, but his picky eater tendencies had set him in his ways ever since your mother decided to spoil him and introduce him to the world of Sheba pate and cuts of various meat and fish flavors; the same woman who claimed she didn’t like cats, yet bought him almost all of his toys.

Huffing out a quiet laugh at her change of heart, you bent to grab a box of the food packs, silently thanking the corporate gods that it was still on sale, before heading deeper into the aisle to grab the second item on your mental list.

You scanned the rack with the box still in your arms, adjusting it slightly every now and then until your eyes landed on the empty spot that usually had the brand of catnip you needed.

“Wonderful…”

“If you’re looking for catnip like that brand, you could go with the one with the red label - they look different because of the companies, but they’re really the same ingredient wise.”

“Oh, really? Thank-” The next word immediately died on your tongue as you turned your head, ready to thank a store worker but, instead, you were met with possibly the handsomest man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Sharp eyes and a nose that looked like it belonged on a marble sculpture, paired with lips set in a faint frown and the prettiest jawline you’ve ever seen - he was gorgeous.

He seemed to either not notice your brain freeze or blissfully ignore it as he stepped closer to pick up the container before placing it on top of the cat food box in your arms.

“I have three cats and they all like both brands, there isn’t really a difference besides the fact that you don’t have to use as much of this one as the other one, which makes it better considering the price.”

Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your brain kick back into gear, “O-Oh, okay, thank you so much!”

He hummed out a small sound of acknowledgement, giving you a curt nod and reaching forward to grab a container of his own; his eyes scanning across the small printed words for a moment before he looked to you once more. “Do you need help? Carrying that, I mean.”

“This? No, no, I’ve got it handled.” You adjusted the box once more, the catnip container sliding to the right until you balanced it out quickly, “All good, thanks again, though.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more than you already had, you thanked him once more and shuffled past him and out of the small aisle in record time, mentally cursing whatever line of fate led you down this path.

Placing your items on the conveyor belt, the cashier greeted you as they scanned your items and you typed in your rewards card onto the card reader’s keypad.

“Are you getting this, too?”

“What?” Looking up, you stared at the catnip in their hand with confusion creasing your brow.

“Um-”

“Yes, we are.”

The familiar voice made a chill run down your spine, your head whipping to see the same man from before, the faintest of curves to his otherwise neutral expression alleviating his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Shrugging lightly, the cashier proceeded to scan the second container before announcing the total.

Pressing his black card to the one-tap reader, he seamlessly slid it back into his wallet before stuffing it back into his pocket, “Think of it as a little gift for your cat, they deserve to be treated.”

For being stunned for the second time that day, your recovery was just as fast, “I’ll make sure to let him know a kind stranger cares about his picky habits.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle, but that was more than enough to inflate your ego and make your heart flutter, quickly taking back your previous curse to thank fate instead.

After grabbing your bag of items, you made your way out of the store with your new companion following suit.

“So… Was that really just a gift for my cat? You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?” You mused, turning to look at him fully as you stood outside of the storefront.

Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defense, “It’s just a gift - like I said, I have three cats so I know how it can get, better than most. Besides, the picky eater phase is really rough on the pockets at the worst of times.”

“Well, Miso appreciates your generosity.”

“Miso… cute.” He hummed softly, though his true excitement was evident in the small glimmer in his eyes.

“Do I have the honor of knowing your name?” Clocking the possible unintended implication of the question, you quickly backtracked, “Um- Just so Miso knows who he can thank while eating his pate salmon, of course.”

His lips parted to speak but closed twice as fast, his once relaxed smile turning into a firm line as he looked at you - almost enough to look through you, or rather, past you.

As you went to turn your head to gauge for yourself, you were stopped by the warmth of his hand around your wrist, winning your attention for himself like jingling keys in front of a baby.

“Let me bring you home, and I’ll tell you on the way.”

You felt your heart flutter, though you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping up your spine, “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to-”

“I just want to make sure you make it home safely.” His mouth pressed into a tight lipped smile and his grip tightened ever so slightly, “Trust me.”

Maybe it was the fact that he sounded so sincere, aligning with the image of the kind man you’d seen in the pet shop, or perhaps it was the way his firm gaze flickered with a hint of urgency, but you found yourself nodding softly.

“Okay.”

With that, you were tugged down the sidewalk and around the corner, hurried footsteps falling alongside his long strides in hopes of keeping up.

“Is- Is there something wrong? What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fine.”

You bristled at his nonchalant, clipped tone, falling back on your pace by half a step. “I have a feeling you weren’t lying to me before, so, please, don’t start lying to me now.”

Feeling your resistance, he took a short breath and spoke, “Nothing’s wrong yet, and nothing is happening - I’d rather keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“But what did you see?”

“Someone who has no business trying to approach me in public unless they’re looking to start something they have no chance of finishing. I have no desire in getting innocent people caught up in those types of affairs.”

“Those types?” Your eyes widened as you neared a black car - slim, sleek, and a model that you had no chance of owning for yourself on your current pay grade. “Are you-”

“I’m no one.” He shut you down with ease before reaching forward to open the passenger’s side door, “Get in.”

Putting a temporary pin in your conversation, you quickly slid into the car, the faint scent of jasmine mixing with the musk of sandalwood and leather seats filling your nose; watching through the windshield as the black haired man rounded the car before sliding into the driver's seat.

“I don’t think a nobody just casually owns a car like this,” clicking your seatbelt into place and setting your bag on the floor, you shot him a wary glance, “if you’re going to kidnap me, Miso’s going to be royally pissed.”

The car’s engine roared to life, masking his light chuckle but doing next to nothing in hiding the slight uptick of his lips. “I’m not a kidnapper, though I’ll make an exception if Miso’s as cute as you make him out to be.”

With that, he shifted the gear and drove out of the parking lot, using the one-way street to get away from the pet store and the unknown assailant. Buildings and cars passed by in a blur after you told him your address, your hands nonchalantly turning your phone while the silence was placated with the sound of the engine and the radio - though, you had no hope of hearing what the song was from how low the volume was.

Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him, eyes tracing over his unfairly handsome side profile. “So… Is this the part where you tell me who you are?”

“I told you, I’m no one,” he hummed simply, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And I told you I don’t like liars - you still owe me your name, you remember that, right? Now, since you’re saving me from some unknown evil, you owe me a full introduction.”

He glanced over at you, amused astonishment filling his face, “For someone who’s in the hands of a complete stranger, you make a lot of demands.”

“Think of it as your atonement for giving me two new life experiences in one when I was minding my own business buying catnip.”

You could just barely catch him rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath and hearing the words ‘worse’ and ‘friends’.

“Minho.”

“Minho?”

Minho rocked his head to the side, huffing, “My name is Lee Minho, I have three cats - Soonie, Doongie, and Dori - and I’m a businessman. I like going to that pet store because they donate some of their profit to shelters, and I know about the catnip brands because I have three cats - changing brands is a nightmare whether it’s one cat or several.”

A small smile found its way to your lips at the new information, your mind running wild at the image of this enigma of a man playing with three cats of his own. “Okay… But, when you say businessman, what type of business do you do?”

“The type that prefers to go unmentioned to civilians for their safety.”

“What- Like working for some secret branch of the government? Are you a cult leader? A member of the mafia?” An incredulous giggle bubbled past your lips, though when his demeanor grew colder, your stomach dropped. “You’re… You’re not, right?”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, granting him the grace to look at you, brown eyes locking to yours with a firm stare. “You never told me your name. If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my job - it’s your repentance for asking me more questions past my introduction. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t, but I won’t tell you my job.”

Your name for his profession, your safety in exchange for his safety - it was only fair, truly.

Taking a deep breath, your name fell from your lips with a small air of confidence, “You already know about my cat, and my job pays just enough to support his picky eating habits. I like that pet store because they hosted an adoption event that brought Miso into my life, and I’ve been supporting them ever since.”

He made a sound of confirmation before turning his attention back to the road, pressing the gas as the light turned green and continued the journey to your apartment.

His choice of silence was almost enough to have your conscience second guessing your decision, until you noted the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel; twitching, anxious, compared to the streamlined, firm grip he’d showcased at the beginning of the drive.

Eventually your apartment building came into view, the car slowing to a stop once he reached the front door.

“Well…” Lingering for a moment longer, you looked at him in hopes of seeing him turn to you one final time to honor his end of the agreement, but when he remained staring at the road ahead, you let it go. “I guess this is goodbye - thank you for what you’ve done for me, Lee Minho, I appreciate it.”

As you went to unbuckle your seatbelt, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending a chill down your spine and stealing your attention just like he did outside of the pet shop.

“I’m part of the mafia,” Minho spoke plainly, his tone emotionless, statement oriented, “the person I saw earlier was someone we’ve done business with before, some low life’s henchman most likely sent to get even, that’s why I wanted to get away like I did. I didn’t want our chance encounter to end with you getting hurt - you did nothing wrong, and I wanted to make sure you would be safe.”

The mafia… You weren’t sure if him being a cult leader would’ve been better or worse than this, but staring into his eyes, you could feel it wasn’t a joke, nor an elaborate cover up.

“What I said before, about not mentioning what I do for the safety of others… I swear to you that you’ll be safe after this - I’ll make it my personal job of making sure nothing happens to you because of this, okay? No lingering ties or deals to be made, you’ll be under our watch until we take care of that stunt they tried to pull.”

His promise eased the first stretch of fear growing within you, though the rest would have to be handled once you had the proper time to process your less than normal morning.

Nodding, you slipped your wrist from his grasp and grabbed your bag, turning to get out of the car until you froze.

“If you’re worried, you don’t have to-”

You leaned across the center console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a sign of gratitude, “Thank you, Minho.”

Reaching into your bag, you placed his container of catnip in his hand then quickly left the car - making your way up the flight of stairs to the lobby’s doors,only to turn around to see him patiently waiting for your entrance before slipping your way past the glass doors.

On the elevator ride up to your apartment, you couldn’t help it as your thoughts ran through the events like a film reel, though you weren’t sure if it was to get over the shock of reality, or to commit the image of that man to your memory.

Lee Minho, cat owner and catnip expert.

Lee Minho, morally gray mafia member.

Lee Minho, a man you hoped you would see in the pet store again.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: Tagged lovelies will now be done within the comments of the post due to Tumblr's tagging system being broken, thank you for understanding.

@luminouskalopsia, @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @sometimesleeknows, @hyunjinloverrrr, @rhonnie23, @channieswife, @beautyinhypnosis

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #SKZ Mafia! AU #lee minho fluff #lee know fluff #✧. ┊ 🧿 nonie

846 notes · View notes

andersonsgf · 2 months ago

Note

Roomate Abby getting jealous/possive🧐

modern roommate!abby

thank you for the request i now have possessive roommate abby brain rot 🙂‍↔️ series link

as always any requests for this series are welcome, but i have a little queue so don't be alarmed if it looks like i'm ignoring it - i'm not!

modern roommate!abby knew she could get a little possessive over the people she cared about. before she had even started dating you she had felt that little twinge in her chest when it looked like she was going to lose her chance with you. that time when she had her coworkers over and one of them slipped her number into your jeans. now that had been infuriating. but she wasn't even dating you yet so what the fuck could she do?

modern roommate!abby who -when she got over her initial distaste for you- felt like you had a special place in her heart. you lived with her. she learnt your habits. saw your ups and downs. knew your favourite snacks. you were her roommate. she even drove you around everywhere to make sure you were alright for crying out loud.

when you started dating it was only natural that this would carry over. modern roommate!abby was aware of her tendency to get jealous and possessive. never in a way where she would want to control you. no, she would never want to do that. but she felt like she had such a good thing going with you, and she rarely had a good thing going with anyone. sure, a lot of women were attracted to her, people brought banners saying as much to her rugby matches, but she seemed to always attract the women who wanted to treat her like a boyfriend. she may be nearly six feet tall, get clothes from the men section and generally seem more "masc", but that didn't mean she was a man by any means.

her past relationships never seemed to want to compliment her properly, get her sweet gifts on anniversaries. but god she realised that was not the case with you. you made it clear that you loved how she could pick you up and toss you around, but when all tired and lovesick before bed you'd always cup her cheeks and say something along the lines of "my pretty girl" before littering her with little kisses. you'd give her little flowers that had fallen in the park, check in on how she was doing emotionally and not just assume she was tanking her way through life. so yeah, there was no way she was letting you go, and no way she would let a single person on this planet be a threat to what you had.

the first time you went on a bar date with modern roommate!abby was when you suggested getting drunk together outside of the apartment. she agreed, knowing a good spot where she sometimes went with her teammates after winning a match that made them work for it. she liked seeing you giggly, your facial expressions showing what you were thinking, if you were slightly begrudged after even a sip of beer you just looked so grumpy.

it was all going well. at least one of her hands was all over you for most of the night whilst sitting in a corner booth, the drinks basically on a conveyor belt towards the two of you as the two of you slowly lost your grip on reality. entering some kind of new world with only a language you two could understand.

but when modern roommate!abby went up to the bar to get the final round of the night, she spotted some woman with the audacity to try and sidle up next to you in the booth. abby thought that this new person was absolutely fucking stupid. surely a corner booth screams 'im here with someone else'. she scowled, watching as this woman continued to hit on you. and there was sweet you, looking so uncomfortable but so not okay with confrontation even after multiple rum mixers.

she waited for the drinks to be put in her hands before making her way back over, her balance was slightly skewed from how much mezcal was currently being pumped through her bloodstream, but she was still stomping over like a trooper. "up", was all she said to the woman, her tone demanding as she stared her down.

"oh, sorry are you two together?".

"yeah, shes mine so if you could stop making her look like she wants to run into traffic that would be great for everyone involved".

when the woman muttered some apologies and even threw a few dollars down on the table, abby simply scoffed and clenched her jaw as she sat back down next to you, putting your drink down with unexpected gentleness, before her left hand firmly gripped around your waist. "you okay?".

you nodded and leaned into her, "yeah, just didn't fucking know what to do she was so confident with it every attempt i made to get her to fuck off she just spoke over", you sounded a lot more sober than before she had left to get the final round, but you were still pretty breathless whilst talking, the alcohol making your body go into overdrive.

modern roommate!abby smiled again, the possessive pang in her chest dwindling now that the threat was across the bar hitting on someone else. "well its just us again", her voice was low, smooth, a little suggestive. she gently pushed your drink towards you, wanting you to enjoy yourself again, the scheduled time for your uber was in fifteen minutes so time was of the essence.

modern roommate!abby held your hand throughout the entire ride, hers enveloped yours completely as she used the other one to trace between your knuckles, her expression slightly unsure. she acted so sure of herself a lot of the time, like she owned every room she was in. but when she gets reminded that you could choose someone else she can get real in her head about it. even after the many drinks you noticed how quiet she was, looking out the window whilst fidgeting with your hand. a frown appeared as a tired huff escaped you, your head lulling onto her shoulder and linking your arm with her giant one, holding her close, holding her tight, trying to make her feel better. maybe you were a little possessive too.

tags: @livvietalks

#modern roommate!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou #modern au #headcanon

201 notes · View notes

advisorykitty · 4 months ago

Note

hello! I’m the person who wrote the Randal x wheelchair user request (I’M ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH IT AAHH)! I was maybe wondering if you could do a part 2 or maybe one shot? :3 no pressure at all! You don’t have to do it ofc. I hope you’re doing well!

Just a trip!

Hope ya like the oneshot!!! I hope you're doing well too ^_^

The sound of creaking metal and distant echoes made your stomach churn as you rolled your wheelchair along the uneven ground. The air was damp and heavy, carrying a metallic tang that left a strange taste in your mouth. You didn’t know why you agreed to this—or, more accurately, how Randal had convinced you. Again.

“We’re gonna have so much fun!” Randal chirped, pushing your wheelchair down the narrow corridor of the abandoned factory. His mismatched shoes squeaked against the grimy concrete floor. “This place is perfect, don’t you think? So spooky! And dangerous. I love it.”

You gripped the armrests of your chair tighter, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Randal, I… I don’t think this is safe.”

He leaned over your shoulder, his wild grin almost brushing your cheek. “Safe? Pfft. Where’s the fun in that? You’re with me, so you’ve got nothing to worry about!”

That didn’t reassure you at all. Randal wasn’t exactly known for his careful planning or concern for other people’s well-being. Still, you’d never seen him this excited, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him no. You never did.

Randal continued to chatter as he pushed you deeper into the building. “Did you know this place used to be a meatpacking plant? Lots of sharp tools and hooks and stuff. I bet they left some behind! Ooh, maybe we’ll find something really creepy, like… I dunno, a severed hand or a haunted chainsaw!”

You swallowed hard. “Why… why would we want to find that?”

“Why not?” Randal shot back, giggling like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He stopped abruptly, making your chair jolt. “Oh, look at this!”

He darted ahead, leaving you alone for a moment. Your chest tightened as you glanced around the dimly lit space. The flickering light from Randal’s flashlight cast eerie shadows on the cracked walls, making them seem alive. The faint hum of distant machinery—though the factory had been abandoned for years—sent a shiver down your spine.

“Uh… Randal?” you called out, your voice trembling.

“Relax, bunny! I’m right here!” His face popped out of the darkness suddenly, and you let out a startled yelp. He doubled over with laughter. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen your face! Priceless!”

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. “Don’t do that!”

He tilted his head, still grinning. “Why not? You’re so cute when you’re scared.” He grabbed the handles of your wheelchair again and started pushing you down another hallway. “C’mon, don’t chicken out now. We’re just getting started!”

The two of you eventually reached a massive room filled with rusted machinery. Chains hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly in a nonexistent breeze. Randal parked your wheelchair near a conveyor belt and hopped onto it, balancing precariously on the edge.

“Check this out!” he said, kicking at a chain to make it rattle. “Doesn’t this place just scream ‘horror movie’? Imagine all the things that could’ve happened here. Blood. Screaming. Death. Awesome, right?”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes were glued to the dark corners of the room, where the flashlight’s beam couldn’t reach. Every creak and groan of the old building made you flinch.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Randal hopped down and crouched in front of you, his face uncomfortably close to yours. “You’re not scared, are you?”

You hesitated, then nodded slightly. “A little…”

His grin widened. “Good! Fear makes everything more exciting. It’s like… seasoning for life. Or maybe dessert. Yeah, fear is dessert.” He stood up and twirled the flashlight like a baton. “But don’t worry. If anything tries to hurt you, I’ll rip it apart. Easy peasy.”

You weren’t sure whether that was comforting or terrifying.

The mood shifted abruptly when you heard a loud clang from somewhere above.

You froze. “Randal… what was that?”

“Probably a ghost,” he said nonchalantly, tilting his head to listen. “Or a rat. Or a ghost rat! Oh, wouldn’t that be cool? I should make a doll of that.”

The sound came again, louder this time. It was followed by the unmistakable groan of metal straining under pressure.

“Uh… maybe we should leave,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Randal waved you off. “Nah, it’s probably nothing. Besides, brother would kill me if I came home this early.”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fumbled to pull it out and saw Luther’s name on the screen. Before you could answer, Randal snatched the phone away.

“Brotherrr!” he sang into the phone. “Guess where we are!”

You couldn’t hear Luther’s response, but judging by the way Randal winced, it wasn’t pleasant.

“Relax, big brother! We’re just having a little adventure. You worry too much.” He paused, then laughed. “Okay, okay, fine. We’ll head back soon. Jeez, you’re no fun.” He hung up and handed the phone back to you.

“Big brother is such a buzzkill,” Randal muttered, kicking at a loose bolt on the floor. “But I guess we should wrap this up. For now.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “We still have to get out of here alive.”

As Randal wheeled you back toward the exit, the building seemed to come alive around you. The groaning metal grew louder, accompanied by distant thuds and the occasional sound of shattering glass.

“See? Isn’t this fun?” Randal said, laughing as he dodged a falling piece of debris. “It’s like the whole place is trying to kill us! What a rush!”

You couldn’t even respond; you were too busy clutching the armrests of your chair, your heart pounding in your chest.

By the time you finally reached the exit, you were shaking. Randal, on the other hand, looked like he’d just had the time of his life.

“That was awesome!” he said, spinning in a circle. “We should do this again sometime.”

You stared at him, your face pale. “Randal… you’re insane.”

He grinned, leaning down to meet your gaze. “Maybe. But you’re stuck with me anyway, bunny.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue.

As the two of you made your way back to the street, Randal started humming a creepy little tune under his breath.

You promise yourself that next time you'll Sebastian handle him.. well more like endure..

Hope ya guys enjoyed this! Also i cba asked to proof read so mind the msitakes pls!! ^_^

#ranfren x reader #fanfic #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #nyon ranfren #nyon and nyen #luther von ivory #randals friends #randal ivory #sebastian ranfren

57 notes · View notes

yuzukult · 11 months ago

Text

from home 03 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: .......... LMFAOOOOOOOOO SORRY FOLKS I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL... anyways hopefully i copied the right chapter hahahhahahah

“You going to the staff dinner tonight?”

Raising a finger at Hoseok, Jungkook slips his phone from his pocket, skimming through the pages before landing on an app, typing a few things in before he looks up with a saddened expression on his face. “... I guess not.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Why can’t you go?” He turns his phone to show the both of you.

JEON JUNGKOOKACCOUNT BALANCE: ₩33,258.75

“Jungkook!” You and Hoseok in unison exclaim in disbelief. “How the fuck do you only have $30 in there?” Jungkook shrugs, slumping his shoulders as he leans against the conveyor belt. “My mom hasn’t given me the modeling money yet. Our accountant is still calculating all of my earnings. You’d think with how much my parents pay him that he’d work a little faster...”

“We just got paid two days ago,” Hoseok points out, completely baffled as to how Jungkook was able to go through that money so quickly. “What did you do?”

Standing in the middle of Jungkook’s apartment, you and Hoseok just heave out a heavy sigh, shaking your heads in disappointment. He has new curtains, one that makes it easier for the sun to shine through in the mornings which has been an incredibly huge mood booster for him. His futons now have pillows and a blanket to claim their own. Then there was the fridge— full of almost every type of frozen meal from the aisles of the grocery store. And the pantry was an entirely different story; stacks of ramen, chips, cookies— they were practically spilling.

“Jungkook, you need to learn how to control your spending.” You say with great dismay, skimming through the labels of all the ramen bowls and packets that pile on top of each other. “If you keep going at this rate, you’re going to be so broke that you’ll be living on our couches on rotation.”

His face brightens. “You’d let me live on your couch if I needed to?”

Ignoring his question blatantly, you start browsing his apartment with Hoseok. His suitcases and boxes remain full of things that he brought back from the estate which has you going through them in pure amusement. “You guys... wanna help me unpack or something?”

“Unpack or something. Either or.” You pull out a velvet royal blue suit from one of the boxes that’s still in its clear plastic jacket for the outer protective layer. “Jungkook, want to give me a reason why you have this?”

“Oh. That’s this year’s Hugo Boss. Haven’t worn it yet, I needed to get it fitted.”

Your nostrils flare at the words. “... OK, so why do you still have it? You’re a lower middle class guy living in a studio apartment that’s still probably being paid by his parents who have a butt load of money so they honestly don’t even know they’re still putting money into this. Why they hell would you have a suit that’s...” flipping the label around, your jaw nearly pops off when it drops to the floor, “₩665,175,000.00? Jungkook, what the flying fuck—”

“What?” Hoseok drops the bag of chips he’s in the midst of opening from his hands. Despite also coming from money, he was never that rich in comparison to Jungkook. “Yeah, Hobi, you heard that right. $600,000.00 buckaroos. That’s the cost of a house right there.”

“The Jeon estate is actually—“ You place your index finger against Jungkook’s lips to hush him. “Don’t even. You need to sell this suit.”

“Sell—“ Breathless, Jungkook looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t sell a limited edition suit. It was hard to even get it in the first place! What makes you think I’m going to sell it?”

“Because you have 30 bucks to your name.” You respond bluntly before picking up another suit that he has lying underneath the first. “Or sell this one.”

“Not the 2021 Vintage Gucci Men’s Suit!”

“How— One, how can something be vintage if it’s in 2021? And it’s not even 2021 yet?”

The sun begins to set; the rays peering through the curtains gradually dissipates, leaving the three of you sprawled across Jungkook’s new apartment with clothes splattered on every possible surface in the poorly lit room. He still lacked another lamp, but the one his mother left was going to have to do. The staff dinner plans are cancelled, mostly because reorganizing Jungkook’s belongings has been an unanticipatedly gratifying yet a fraught chore that took up more time than predicted. Jungkook was hoping to attend the dinner, but after seeing how much effort you and Hoseok put in trying to make his living space a bit more comfortable, the hope for going to the event has been pushed to the back of his mind.

“Do you guys want to order take-out?” Jungkook suggests, and both you and Hoseok nod while sharing each halves of the futon. “But we’ll pay since you barely have any money. You can get us next time.”

Next time, which means that you guys want to hang out with Jungkook again.

To him, this is a huge step in the friendship direction. Throughout the entirety of his life, having friends had never really been a thing. Sure, he had play-dates per request from his mother, but those kids were fans of the stuff he owned, they didn’t even like him for him. It had become a recurrence up until high school, where the replacement for the need for friendship had been occupied with flings with women instead. People hung around him for the image, but he never felt a connection with anyone.

That was, until he met you and Hoseok.

Although he’d known Hoseok from showing up at the same parties, he never actually got to talk to him on this level until he visited the supermarket that fateful day. He was always the fun guy at parties; attention constantly gravitating toward him, whether he liked it or not, and he came from money as well, so Jungkook wasn’t sure if those people were surrounding him because of it. Sure, Hoseok’s parents weren’t as rich as Jungkook’s, but they were pretty high up there and could afford almost anything they desired.

Yet, he preferred this sight of Hoseok. Baggy hoodie and jeans, skin greasy from spending the day at work then coming to Jungkook’s apartment to unpack. He’s nagging at you for taking up too much space, covering the surface area that Hoseok had claimed to be his under an unspoken contract as you frown when he slaps your leg.

He likes this. There’s no gowns and tuxes in a ballroom with hors d'oeuvres worth the price of a car per bite; there’s no young people at a party, getting wasted and high, fucking in bedrooms that they weren’t sure who it belonged to; there wasn’t a dining room full of both family and strangers that attempted to start small talk about things he didn’t care about— there was none of that. Just comfort from people he genuinely wanted to impress and make proud of him. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way before and he’s barely even known either of you that long. Jungkook has been spending most of his life trying to fill a void in him and has been unsuccessful. He’s finally feeling like he’s going somewhere.

You and Hoseok finally agree on what to eat and he learns that it’s your favorite. Pizza. Extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, spinach with an ungodly amount of jalapeño peppers, Hoseok mentioned earlier that night that your tolerance for spicy foods is stronger than the pits of hell.

“Jesus, how are you eating this?” Jungkook cries, snot dripping from his nose while Hoseok wipes his tears after taking another bite. You sit there, unfazed, picking up the abandoned slices of peppers that sit in the box, dropping them into your mouth. “It’s honestly not that spicy. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Bitch, we are not being dramatic, your stomach is made out of whatever Captain America’s shield is made from...”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in the midst of your argument with Hoseok and just from the name on his lock screen, his heart drops. Jeon Junghwan.

There were a couple things in life that Jungkook wanted to attain— the acceptance from Junghwan and his parents being on top of that list. Ever since Jungkook was younger, Junghwan had been the golden child, the rest of the four were just barely making it, arduously following in his footsteps. But he failed, he hasn’t been able to win the approval from him.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Mother is having a charity banquet on Saturday. She would have called you but figured it’d be best if I contacted you instead. Something about ‘inspiration’. Please be at the estate at 7:00PM sharp.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Goodnight, Junghwan.

“Why does he text like an old man?” Jungkook flinches, head turning sideways to meet with Hoseok hovering over his shoulder. “Junghwan, I mean. But cool, I was supposed to go to that banquet too, until I got called on a shift. Luckily you’re not scheduled.”

“Yeah...” He says quietly, seated on the floor as he leans back against the sides of the futon. “This is the first time I’m seeing my family after moving out. I need to plan this out right.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Cheeks full of fries, you’re munching away on the other side of Jungkook as he contemplates the next steps he’s going to have to make in order to reach his goal. “One thing is for sure. You’re going to be my date.”

The breath has been stolen away from his lungs and his heart feels like you’ve pierced through his chest cavity and squashed it into the palm of your hands. He doesn’t know what it’s called (maybe a blowout) but the way your hair cascades down to your shoulders is marveling. In a black long dress with a slit that exposes the entirety of your legs, his breath hitches when his eyes meet the skin of your thighs, the spaghetti straps drape over your décolletage with the v-cut neckline only finishing it off right. He thinks this is his fatal moment. He’s never seen you dolled up like this before; cheeks brushed with a peach blush, lashes emphasized with mascara, liner that makes you look even more fierce, and lips... so buttery pink and plump that almost wishes he could—

“Jungkook?” He shivers, immediately pushing the thoughts out of his head. You’d probably stab him in mere seconds if you knew what he was thinking about. “H-Hey. You look good.”

You grin, adjusting the fabric that hangs around your legs. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. Anyways, let’s get going. You said your brother sent a car for us?”

Even though Jungkook is a model and has posed in magazines in suits, it’s still a surprise to see how stunning he manages to look in person. He keeps his hair casual today, despite the formal attire, but when his fingertips rake through those luscious locks, it makes sense why he went with that decision. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t believe that this hunk was living off of frozen meals and instant ramen for the past week.

He’s pretty, yet there’s something that you can’t help but loathe about him.

Jungkook is still from money, despite the amount of times you’ve seen him in the supermarket’s uniform and apron. It’s something you’ve been trying to force yourself to remember when you feel yourself slowly falling into the traps of his smile and looks. The reminder is there when a Mercedes Benz S-Class pulls up and Jungkook isn’t as astonished as you are. The window of the driver’s side rolls down, revealing a middle-aged man who wears a chauffeur’s hat and a grin upon his lips. “Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hyungjin,” He dips his head in acknowledgement before saying your name, “... this is my date. This guy has been my driver since I was born. Park Hyungjin. He’s going to be taking us to the estate tonight.”

Jungkook opens the back door for you as you slide in with ease, completely in veneration at the characteristics of the vehicle. It feels luxurious, from the leather seats to the center console, and when you see Hyungjin beginning to raise the customized partition between the front and back seats, you’re shocked it can even do that until Jungkook halts him from doing so. “Uh, sorry, Hyungjin, she’s not one of those nights.”

Oh, you think to yourself, this was a routine. His preceding lifestyle is starting to unfold before you.

Arriving at the ‘estate,’ which was something you’d had been stuck with trying to adjust yourself in calling Jungkook’s family home, it’s an unreservedly different part of the home compared to your first visit however a sudden coldness hits your core from incredulity. How could anyone need a home this big? Jungkook guides you out of the car before you could even register the visuals of the home, waving Hyungjin goodbye and brisk “thank you.”

“Hold my hand.” His fingertips brush against the back of your hand discreetly, and as a reflex, you slap him away while he whimpers in pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry. Habit.” When you try to reach for him again, he opts for resting his palm on your lower back instead, keeping you close. “It’s okay. Is this alright?” You nod. “This is better anyway. We look close yet at the same time professional.”

When you step into the ballroom, you quickly learn that your previous time at the Jeon estate had only been a glimpse of what Jungkook’s sumptuous home had to offer. There’s something of a mezzanine or indoor balcony of some sorts with staircases that branch around the perimeter where a couple people stand idly. The chandelier that you saw in the dining room before was no comparison to what was currently hanging from the ceiling right now— there’s diamonds that hang like raindrops, intricately scattered with clear clarity that only the rich could identify and have the opportunity to see in person. The guests are dressed like those diamonds— sparkles and jewels of women that bathed in the crystals, accompanied by men who simply wore tuxedos and suits.

But the real stars of the show were the Jeons. With Mrs. Jeon’s hair in an updo, it accentuates her collarbones and shoulders where her dress lies; a beautiful detailed lavender gown that you can already sense the weight of when she drags it behind her. You see where Jungkook gets his genes from.

The filler music from the orchestra that plays in the corner stops, the chattering along with it as they all divert their attention to the Jeons that stand by the railings of the balcony— the four boys and their dates. All that’s missing is Jungkook who stands beside you, hand graduating from your lower back to your waist.

“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Jeon greets, a pearly white smile upon her lips. “I am so thankful for your attendance here. As you know, tonight is dedicated toward the Cancer Research Foundation of Seoul, known as the CRFS, and I will be the host tonight but the true genius behind this all is my son, Jeon Jungsik.”

Jungsik approaches his mother from the side, dressed just as well as the rest of his siblings, shaking his head in disapproval. “Mother, I couldn’t have done this without you,” He says humbly, eyes browsing the crowd but pauses when he sees Jungkook with you by his side. There’s something hidden behind his stare, Jungkook hypothesizes, because his modest brother suddenly wants the spotlight whereas previously, he’d be standing in the audience. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s the first family event where he’s sober or if truly there’s something about Jungsik that’s different. “But tonight is a different kind of night. We’re here today not to just donate what we can to a good cause, but celebrating as well. I’m announcing my engagement with Kim Nari.”

An abrupt realization washes over Jungkook.

Kim Nari. The daughter of a tech mogul whose relationship with Jungsik would further advance the Jeon Corporation and skyrocket their profits. Her marriage with Jungsik would link the two companies together, creating possibilities for what seemed to be impossible. Which brings to question, why would Jungsik be interested in Nari? She’s a reflection in the mirror of Jungkook himself— uncontrollable, spoiled, and dependent with no future planned. Why would Jungsik, someone with passions, dreams, and stability want to be with someone like that? Something was up, and Jungkook can taste the bitterness in his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, but you genuinely don’t care. Anything would be better than listening to conversations that were beginning to start up again at the hasty announcement. Nari has one of her hands sitting upon the rail, waving as if she’s the Queen of England, with a dress that may be deemed inappropriate for a setting like this. It seems that the rest of the family is hearing the engagement for the first time though because Mrs. Jeon looks like she’s going to faint and Mr. Jeon is holding in his anger rather than noticing Nari’s attire.

“Nothing, just... something weird with my brother.” He says before turning to give you his attention again. “Anyway, should I introduce you to my horrific bloodline?”

When Jungkook guides you toward his family members that have begun trickling down the staircase, you’re appearing to have heart palpitations from the suspense. The way the Jeons walk is intimidating alone; shoulders pushed back, straightened posture, and smiles that resemble authenticity on the surface but daggers will be pulled at their disposal if anything goes haywire.

“Mother, Father, this is my girlfriend...” You altogether miss when Jungkook says your name from the sight of his family up close until he squeezes your waist gingerly to capture your awareness again. “Oh, yes, hi,” You bow speedily, “I’m uh, Jungkook’s girlfriend.” Wait. Didn’t he just say that?

“Are you now? Last time we spoke, you said you weren’t,” Mrs. Jeon comments, and albeit her words sound harsh, the draw of her lips upwards say otherwise. It feels a bit forced, but you know it’s from the sudden news coming from Jungsik. There’s a façade of happiness when deep down, she’s disappointed. “We... we met after that night and he treated me to dinner for taking care of him. We’ve been... seeing each other ever since.”

Mr. Jeon stands there in silence, observing the conversation between you and his wife before unexpectedly speaking up. “Did you attend University? And have you graduated yet?”

Jungkook knows what this is. The Interrogation. Every Jeon child’s significant other has gone through this and you were next. He had completely forgotten about it— mostly because his other brothers had gone through it years ago, and Jongseok’s ‘girlfriends’ had never really been girlfriends, so their dad had given up on that until someone serious came by.

He never thought it’d be him before Jongseok.

“Yes, back in 2016.” You state, fingers fidgeting with the metal chain of your purse. It was a simple question yet the way it’s executed is as if he’s searching for a particular answer.

The older gentleman tilts his head, the space between his brows crinkling in perplexity. He looks so much like Jungkook, except matured with wisdom, and if Jungkook was of any replication of his father when he’s that age, he’d probably still have a line of women after him. “So you’re older than Jungkook.”

“No, father,” Jungkook chimes in, “... Quite the opposite. She’s actually a year younger than me. Graduated University rather early. Or... well, she finished high school early.” He can see from his peripheral vision that he has captured the ears of his other siblings that stand languidly. “Gifted, really. Child prodigy. Despite all the talented Jeon children, we’ve never had one of those.”

There’s a glimmer in his father’s eyes. He’s impressed. “Really?” His stiff tone has shifted to a lighter one. “Did you study in Seoul? What was your degree in?”

“No, uh, I actually studied abroad in New York after graduating high school. I was about... maybe fifteen at the time? I chose Food Science— I thought about being a Chef because my inspiration is Guy Fieri but someone told me to be a bit more realistic with my brain so here we are.”

Guy Fieri? Jungkook stifles a laugh at your secretive role model, rubbing your sides comfortingly. It’s something to tease you about later, but right now, you have a job to do. Swoon his father.

Mr. Jeon nods, hands slipping into the front pockets of his slacks. “Remarkable. We could use someone like you in the Jeon Corporation.”

Both you and Jungkook choke, clearing your throats at the sudden suggestion, glancing at one another. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m thinking about opening a chain of restaurants, something high end, something different.” Jungkook’s brothers are stepping in closer to listen shamelessly to the conversation, the look of disarray stamped onto each one of their faces as if it’s the first time they’re hearing this information, for the second time tonight. “I would love it if you gave me your take on how to proceed on some things, and help the chef formulate something that makes sense without him cheating me out on prices. Jungkook, tell Maeri to schedule something for us so I can discuss further details.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” You blurt, palms growing sweaty. “But you just met me, and Jungkook and I just started dating. Are you sure you trust me?” It’s another experience of déjà vu; Jungkook mirroring his father’s actions at the yacht party when he claims that he’d pay for your aspirations.

“Of course. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t have girlfriends.”

Just then, someone taps his shoulder and whispers something ineligible into his ear before he turns to you with his hand extended, and you take the offer with a firm shake. “I’m needed elsewhere. It was nice meeting you. Glad to know Jungkook chose someone fitting.” And with that, he leaves.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Mrs. Jeon comments, hand resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems that sending you off to live alone has brought nothing but good impressions on your father. Keep it up, Kook-ah. I’m going to go accompany him, so in the meanwhile, introduce her to your brothers, why don’t you?”

Turning your body to face Jungkook, you let out the hugest breath you’ve ever held in your entire life. “What was that?”

He looks equally as stunned as you. “I don’t know but that went so much better than I actually thought. I think that was the fastest he’s ever been fascinated by any of our girlfriends.”

Jungkook’s father had strict outlooks for the company, one of them being that he wanted nothing but pure Jeon blood leading the corporation. This meant that the significant others of any of his children weren’t allowed to be part of the trade. So why did he ask you particularly for a hand in the family business?

“Jungkook,” One of his brothers calls out, your heads sharply jolting at the sound of his voice.

Have you ever watched Boys Over Flowers? When the Flower 4 walk through any entrance, it’s like time slows down and their hair flows through the wind like they’re models?

That’s what pretty much happens.

“Hyungs.” He says; it’s their own version of a hello and the atmosphere between them is tense. “It’s nice to see you sober, Jungkook.”

His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t an addict, just you so know. Made it easier being around you all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The one you assume is Jongseok from your previous google search waves his hand, disregarding Jungkook’s statement before pointing his finger directly at you. If only you could bite it off along with his rude mannerisms. “Girl toy?”

“Girlfriend,” Jungkook corrects him and his other brothers are intrigued. “This is my girlfriend,...” As he says your name, your eyes immediately are drawn to the woman behind one of the males; shiny caramel colored hair with the simplest white dress that hugs her small waist that still manages to make her look like a goddess with a smile that was so sweet your teeth start to hurt. You recall catching a sight of her in the same magazines that Jungkook featured in and on the posters at the mall whenever you’d walk into a store but how she looked in person was flawless compared to those photos. She was like the real life version of a photoshopped picture.

“This is Hayoung, my brother Junghwan’s wife.”

“Uh, H-H-Hi,” why does she make you so nervous? Do you get anxious around extremely beautiful women? “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” She hums, cheekbones high with her grin. “Kookie never mentioned he had a girlfriend, let alone brought anyone to meet his family before.”

“Kookie?” You reiterate with a mocking tone. He knows you’ll never let him live this down. Least he still had the Guy Fieri thing up his sleeve. “Noona, it would’ve been nice to keep that away from her for a bit. I’m trying to ease her into this madness. She’s probably still recovering from that conversation with our father.”

“As if!” Hayoung counters back. Her husband, Junghwan, wraps an arm around her waist before dipping his head slightly toward you. “I’m Junghwan, Jungkook’s older brother.” He then begins to point at the other gentlemen. “Jonghyun, Jungsik, and Jongseok, respectively.”

Frankly, it had been a lot to unpack for the night, and you assumed that the boxes back at his apartment were a lot, but this was truly a lot. Within an hour, Jungkook introduces you to almost anyone that plays a significant role in his life and elaborates on each of their backgrounds.

Junghwan, his eldest brother, is married to the international supermodel Na Hayoung, and he’s the next in line to inherit the CEO position when his father steps down from the company. He’s been trained all his life for this role, apparently, and it’s evident in how he carries himself. Jonghyun, the second oldest, stands behind Junghwan in the company, supposedly his right hand man when it comes to business, joined at the hip although their personal relationship with each other isn’t as close. He’s also married, Jungkook mentions, but his wife is currently very pregnant and at home. He skips over Jungsik, only because you’ve met him over dinner, but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says that Jungsik is purportedly the angelic Jeon. Lastly was Jongseok, the last sibling before himself, and was described as something along the lines of, “the most useless, right after myself, and if it weren’t for his involvement with the marketing department because of his diploma, he’d be living in a studio apartment downtown, cut off from this family too.” Jungkook’s words, not yours.

The night slowly reaches an end, people scattering to leave the estate, thanking Jungkook’s parents for hosting such a charitable event. Just before you’re about to step out along with Jungkook, his mother had her fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Jungkook, you and your lovely girlfriend should stay the night. Downtown is far and your siblings will be here as well. Maybe you can show her to your bedroom? I know you’ve been missing your bed and well... maybe show her around your childhood home.” She pauses for a moment as Jungkook hesitates as you eye him suspiciously before interrupting his thoughts. “Your father wants to speak to you and your brothers in the morning anyways, so it would be nice for you to stay for breakfast, dear.”

“Are you fucking dense, Jeon Jungkook? I do not want to stay the night here.” Contradicting your angry words, you’re already unlatching the attachment on the straps of your heels, sliding them off while seated on the bay window seats of his bedroom, rubbing the soles of your feet. “I’m sorry,” He mutters weakly, falling on the foot of his bed. “I don’t know how to say no to my mother.”

“Well, quit being a fucking momma’s boy and call an Uber. I want to go home, Jungkook.”

“Uber’s don’t run this late at night in the area. We live too far off the grid.”

“Well, then ask Mr. Hyungjin to pull up in his whip and take us home.”

His face drops, a guilty look pooling in his orbs. “We sent him home. He’s technically off on the weekends. Hyungjin only came out because Junghwan asked for him beforehand.”

You grumble, laying back on the cushions, locks tangling along with your mood. “What are we supposed to do here? Share a bed? What am I supposed to wear to sleep? Did you already ask your housemaids?”

“No,” He answers bleakly, standing up. “But I’ll go ask now. In the meantime, you can watch some TV? Then when I come back you can shower and do whatever you need. I think I have a spare toothbrush for you to borrow. As for the bed thing...” Jungkook looks over at that California King that he misses so much. “... it’s more than big enough for the two of us, I’ll keep my distance from you without a problem.”

Before you can counter the suggestion, he’s already out the door.

Perusing through his bedroom, you soon learn that this ‘room’ of his is the size of your childhood bedroom times five with a closet the size of your apartment with a connecting bathroom that was equivalent in surface area.

Then it has you thinking. Jungkook grew up like this, in a life of grandeur where everything he had, he had a plethora of. Whether it be education, belongings, or the aid of people who tended to every need he had, it never seems to run out. He had a driver since he was born while you struggled to learn how to take the bus alone at the age of 7. Or running out of money to pay for a new notebook for class since you’ve been using the same one for the past two grades in order to save cash so your parents could put food on the table. While Jungkook over here was probably tearing down trees in his yard to make all the paper in the world. What about noticing that you were ahead of the kids in your class? No one seemed to have realized it until you said to someone that you were bored, and needed more challenging material when you got sent to the Principal’s office per request, begging to be with the bigger kids.

If you had the money Jungkook had, you would’ve been able to pay off both yours and your parents’ debt in addition to opening your bakery all within the same year.

But you aren’t Jungkook, and jealousy just runs through your veins alongside the enmity.

Entering through the housemaids’ chambers was a nostalgic feeling that he couldn’t exactly say was his favorite. Sneaking down here during the late hours of the night for quick sex and running back up to his bedroom felt like such a teenager thing to do at the age of twenty, so he instantaneously gave up on that.

There’s two wooden doors to choose from. Nayeon, the house servant he slept with several times before realizing that she had falling for him while thinking it was some forbidden love, and Hana... also a servant that he had sex with until she also fell in love with him.

So which one of them would be less upset about him asking to borrow their sleepwear for his new girlfriend?

Answer to that question: neither because they both slammed their doors on him after asking. He should’ve figured that sooner.

Next stop: Junghwan’s room. Maybe Hayoung had something for you.

He hesitates when he’s standing outside of his brother’s bedroom door. It takes him back to when he was a kid all over again, desperate for his big brother’s attention who didn’t even have enough time to dedicate to him. Taking in a deep breath of courage, he does it yet again, his knuckles tapping against the wood that makes the same knocking sound.

Peeking out, Junghwan looks at Jungkook with a perplexed expression. “Jungkook, what’s up? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Is noona with you?” He nods. “Yeah, of course. She’s washing her face right now, wanna come in?” Jungkook steps into the room, ambivalent with each movement because he’s never been invited into Junghwan’s room before. It’s almost exactly what his room looks like, except all the shades are dark, varying from grey to navy, with his bed, closet, and bathrooms in the same locations.

“Hayoung, Jungkook is looking for you.”

“Kookie?” Coming out the bathroom with a robe on, her hair is drenched as she attempts to towel dry it, face pretty even without makeup. “What’s up, bub?”

“Uh, my girlfriend,” He starts, rubbing the back of his nape anxiously because he’s never said those words before, “She doesn’t have anything to wear tonight. I have some clothes, but I think she’d feel more comfortable if she at least has some pants.”

“Tell her to sleep in her underwear, what’s the problem?” Because she’s not really my girlfriend, is what he wants to say, but he takes a different approach. “We’re... still in the early stages. So, uh, you know. She’s shy.” She shakes her head with a smile upon her lips. “Okay. Give me a second. I have a bunch of clothes that I left when we used to live here.” With that, she disappears into the closet.

“I’m... proud of you, Jungkook.” Junghwan speaks up, protruding through the silence. Jungkook just stares in bewilderment, unsure what he even did to make Junghwan say those words he had dreamt to hear coming from his eldest brother. “Other than landing a girlfriend who is definitely way out of your league, you’re actually showing some progress living alone. I honestly didn’t really agree with the plan that Jongseok proposed but... I see it’s working well.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jungkook questions. He still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Junghwan hums. “You were able to find a job yourself. I haven’t seen you coming back begging for money again, and you found someone who doesn’t have the facilities to give you the lifestyle that our parents gave us. You found love without money and I think it really makes a person humble.” He’s fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants now, comprehending that the two of them don’t really talk one-on-one. “I know I changed a lot when I met Hayoung.”

“Kookie, I think I have a couple options for you— whoa, why does it feel so sad here?” She remarks, stopping in the midst of her walk toward Jungkook. “You guys... alright?”

“Nothing,” Junghwan responds quickly. “I just wanted to tell Jungkook that I’m proud of him.” This does nothing but prompt Hayoung to roll her eyes, laying out a pair of shorts and a silky baby blue nightgown. “Junghwan is always proud of Kookie, just not always the decision he makes. Anyways,” She completely brushes off the topic that Jungkook wants to hear, but he’ll circle back to that later. He had a pretty girl waiting in his room who had the temper of the Hulk. “I have two options for you to give her. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll wear the night gown?”

Jungkook scoffs. “If I brought that to her, she’d probably wrap it around my neck and choke me within seconds. Keep the gown, I’m taking the shorts. I’ll let her wear one of my T-shirts.”

“Are you sure?” Hayoung sings and Jungkook tells her he’s almost confident that he’s going to die tonight if he so much reaches the door with that thing in his hands.

Jungkook chucks the shorts at your face while you’re laying on your back on his mattress. “Here you go, Mrs. Fieri. The girls wouldn’t lend me anything because well... I may have slept with them both and they were hopelessly in love with me. Hayoung noona gave me those shorts instead.” He’s babbling on about how rude the housemaids had been when he asked, but you’re canceling his voice out because the coolest chick you’ve ever met just lent you her shorts.

“... Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?”

He snaps his fingers in front of your face but registers that it’s no use. You’re too busy trying to decipher how God decided to gift Hayoung the looks and the personality that you miss when Jungkook leaves the closet, throwing a plain white t-shirt at your direction. It’s huge compared to you, yet seems like it would fit him well. “Go shower. I’ll be in there after you.”

It’s awkward.

So goddamn awkward.

Jungkook is wearing a black T-shirt of some band you can’t recognize because the majority of the print has been worn off paired with grey sweatpants that hug his ass so beautifully. Scratch that. You never thought that. They look soft. That’s what you meant.

While you’re currently occupied with attempting to avoid looking at Jungkook, he can’t stop staring at your exposed legs and notice how small and cute you are. Soft. It’s tempting him to want to wrap his arms around your frame and snuggle his nose into the crook of your neck while inhaling the scent of his body wash on your skin. He wants to blame it on the dry spell he’s having because all he does is work nowadays that once he gets home, he’s completely drained. Alcohol doesn’t even appear in his mind either. Or maybe he genuinely thinks you’re pretty and having you in his bed doesn’t make it any better.

Sitting on the farthest opposite ends of the bed, Jungkook clears his throat. “See? I told you that the bed is way too big for the two of us. Should be easy to steer clear from each other.”

Wrong. Incorrect. You should’ve known that Jungkook would be fallacious.

The sun gleams through the sheer white blinds of his prodigious windows, illuminating your faces on an unironically Sunday morning, emitting a groan from a stiff beside you. Your body feels heavier than usual, almost like something was pressing down on you.

You panic. Were you having a stroke?

After forcing your eyes open from the dry boogers, you can’t believe the sight. Jungkook has his arms and legs tangled in the sheets with yours, nose brushing against your shoulder. He’s so cosy, the most he’s ever been, and the warmth from your body is like a different feeling of home for him. It’s comforting like a cup of hot chocolate during the harsh weather in the Winter or swaddling yourself in a blanket in front of the fireplace. Now knowing how it feels to be in your embrace, he’s not sure if he wants to let go.

“Jungkook, please get the fuck off me.” You bite. Cuddling was not what was discussed in the terms of agreement. Not that there was one but having a buff guy curled up beside you that wasn’t actually dating you was making your heart do cartwheels when it shouldn’t be. He doesn’t seem a bit rattled knowing that he’s snuggling up against you because he scoots even closer. “Five more minutes.” He mutters. His dreams of taking in the aroma of your natural scent mixed in with his shower gel were coming true.

You push him off with as much strength as your body could gather, yet you fail underneath those muscular arms. Those big, thick—

There’s one knock and someone just immediately flings the door open with a gasp.

But then you see them. Jungsik and Jongseok.

You don’t know why but you care about how Jungsik sees you, but you care. He’s the closest to your ideal type— as unrealistic as it is for him to ever have a relationship with you, especially since he has a fiancé now— yet at the same time, he knows you’re ‘dating’ Jungkook, and whether or not he believes it, you’re not sure, but your chances were already wearing thin as it is, even worse now that he’s witnessing you in the same bed as his youngest brother. You may have a teensy weensy little crush on your fake boyfriend’s brother.

“Cute,” He chuckles, already dressed in his daily attire; grey slacks that crop at the ankle and a navy dress shirt that doesn’t button up all the way, hugging tightly around his pecs that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Well, we’re sorry for intruding. Father wants us down for breakfast within an hour. Wake up your boyfriend for us, will you?”

“I’m not sorry,” Jongseok adds with a devilish grin before he quickly shuts the door and leaves promptly with Jungsik. Jungkook hasn’t even moved, not even twitching the slightest bit despite his brothers’ abrupt invasion.

You officially hate Jungkook even more... if that was even possible.

There's an abundance of choices for breakfast foods that sits on the length of the dining room table that you had gotten a glimpse of during your first visit to the Jeon estate, more food than you've ever seen in one place. They had waffles, pancakes, sausages, bacon, toast—all that’s expected of a typical American breakfast laid out like it’s a picture from the Food Network Magazine. He has servants, shuffling through in and out of the room, placing plates and utensils in specific detailed orders before they pull out the heavy upholstered wooden chairs for each and every member of the family in invitation.

"Uh, it's okay, thank you, I got it—" The woman who has her hands gripped on the framing of the seat tightly as she clenches her jaw, has a glare shooting lasers in your direction. Maybe you'd just take the offer and sit instead. She might be one of Jungkook's late night affairs, you never know what she'd do to your food if you didn't comply.

Sticking out like a sore thumb, you settle yourself by your now claimed to-be-boyfriend who sits comfortably in his own seat since he's owned it for two decades now. You, however, it's your first day and you're not even sure how to feel. Hayoung seems to be doing the opposite; eyes shiny from excitement at the sight of all the options that are laid out in front of her. You can agree to her interest, the Belgium waffles that's stacked at the center of the table with a square of butter residing on top makes your mouth water.

"Thank you all for coming," Jungkook's father announces, the chair he's rested on makes him look so tiny at the head of the table. "I want to discuss some matters with all of you and also invite Jungkook's new love into the family. Honestly never thought this day would come where I'd see my most troublesome child make such advancements in a short span of time."

There's reticence along the table, Mrs. Jeon beside him, eyes searching the table for something in particular. "The proceedings with this engagement with Kim Nari, Jungsik. What did you expect would happen with that?"

And there it was. The conversation that had been put off last night due to guests being on the residence. It's because of two of the things that Mr. Jeon stood by when it came to his family and business: no bloodline, no business entrance had been challenged and the Interrogation had never been in place.

"Father," Jungsik clears his throat, pressing his back against the cushion. "I'll have you know that I'm only thinking of the future of our company."

"Without talking to me about it?" He snaps, agitated. He doesn't even care that a complete stranger is sitting at the table with them. "What gives you the right to be the only person to know what's good or not for the company? Why not consult with Jonghyun and Junghwan? Why am I told that no one knew about this?"

"Well, I thought—"

"You thought wrong." He confirms, and the Belgium waffles don't seem as appealing anymore. His firmness makes your stomach queasy, despite not being his current victim. "Terminate your engagement. You don't love her anyways. I don't need any affiliation with a self-obsessed tech company."

"But father—"

"None of that." He shushes his son, laying a beige cloth napkin on his lap. "I'm tired of having to teach you how we run this business. I gave you a percentage of the company and I expect you to know what to do with it, which is not to share it with some airhead who doesn't even understand what her own father's company does." Jungsik's body stiffened at his father's lecture after he made a decision solely for what he believed was beneficial for the family business. "Anyways, let's eat."

"Why do you favor Junghwan over the rest of us?" Jungsik spits, fist slamming against the table. The cups, silverware, and plates trembled underneath his strength, startling you. "I can't believe that I let you walk over us for so long. I can't believe that any of us has let you do it. In reality, none of us get your fortune, just Junghwan. What about the rest of your children? Do you have the only one? Or did mother have an affair for the remaining four?"

Yum, drama. You admit you were getting a little bored last night at the banquet, but his conversation was perking you up in interest. Jungkook oddly remains cool, turning to tap one of the housemaids to pour you some apple juice, patiently waiting for the go to eat.

Jungsik is disparate in this light because he's not the compassionate and gentle soul you had assumed he was during your first encounters and what was seen on the internet. He’s fierce and competitive, in actuality, with this hidden duel behind doors against his eldest brother. The description written of him was all an image that was portrayed to the public and you start to see what Jungkook means now when he says "apparently" or "supposedly" whenever talking about his older brother.

And Jungkook... he's strangely distinctive as well when sitting amongst his siblings. He's quiet, actually, and attentive, but you take note that he mentions before how he often comes to these things under the influence, and that your presence was what halts him from doing so.

"Just eat. We'll talk privately later." Mr. Jeon says through his gritted teeth, tips of his ears fading red from Jungsik talking back.

"I saw you eying that waffle earlier," Jungkook says in a hushed tone, leaning into you. "Want one? I'll grab it for you."

OK, maybe he wasn't that bad. He knows what you like and he’s getting it for you. You’ve waited long enough.

The Jeons are awfully good at pretending the argument between Mr. Jeon and Jungsik didn't occur. Everyone sits in lull, occasionally exchanging comments with whomever sits beside them but consuming their breakfast with glee. It wasn't something you were used to.

When you're back into Jungkook's room, you slip on a jacket that you brought the night before, zipping it up. "Is that... normal?"

"What's normal?"

"That whole thing with Jungsik and your dad. Do they fight often? And do you guys normally just... sit there and forget it even happens afterwards?"

He slides onto the bed one last time, inhaling deeply in the scent of lavender, wishing he could take this bed with him as he absentmindedly responds, "Mmm. Yeah."

What kind of family dynamic is this? "Yeah? And you just... watch?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Join in? Take sides? Hell no. It's a different sibling each meal and every time there’s always someone being jealous of someone else. We don’t really get along here and it’s just what we’re used to.”

Treading into Jungkook’s reality was starting to become comprehensible. Almost justifying the way he is, how he’s utterly clueless in basic situations and disconnected he was from the world. Because this is his world; his parents, four brothers, and house full of servants, and he knows nothing outside of it. Their home is completely off the grid, separated from people living regular lives, he even has his own tennis court (you learned from the view from his bedroom), and no one normal has their own private tennis court. His mother has been shielding him his entire life, letting him grow and become a shell of a man in an empty home.

Family isn’t family to him, is what you’ve come to terms with and something he hasn’t yet accepted because he hasn’t seen what a real family looks or feels like. His home isn’t a real home but brimming with employees who work for his family that probably see him more than the people who he called relatives.

It makes you pity him and want to show him what it’s like to be home.

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #bts fanfic

131 notes · View notes

ririright · 19 days ago

Text

“Cart, Interrupted”

Son! Scott Barringer x Mother Reader

Annoying Teenager Energy & Single Mom

Sunday.

The holy day of grocery shopping, caffeine-fueled patience, and navigating discount chaos with a teenage boy who treated Target like it was a battleground—and he was the star quarterback of cart defense.

Scott was already leaning against the red shopping cart like it was a motorcycle, one foot propped dramatically on the wheel.

“I got it,” he said, hands gripping the handle. “I’ll drive.”

“You always say that and then run into something.”

“Okay, that was one time. That gumball machine was in the way.”

His mom sighed but let him push the cart. It made him feel useful. Strong. Important.

Two aisles in, he’d already:

• Knocked over a display of cereal boxes.

• Taken a hard turn that sent a pack of cheese sticks flying.

• Nearly clipped an elderly woman’s ankle while trying to “drift” the cart.

“Scott,” his mom hissed through gritted teeth as he came to a screeching halt in the frozen food aisle. “It’s not a bumper car.”

“It’s got wheels. It’s meant for joy.”

“It’s meant for quiet movement and not traumatizing other shoppers.”

Scott grinned. “You say traumatizing, I say entertaining the people.”

She glared. He rolled the cart again, slower this time—but not before trying to ride it like a scooter with one foot in the air.

“Stop skating,” she snapped.

“I’m an athlete,” he replied, balancing like a circus act. “This is training.”

At this point, their cart held:

• Two kinds of cheese he insisted were “for emotional emergencies.”

• Four types of chips he claimed were “for the team” (they weren’t).

• A gallon of chocolate milk.

• Zero actual necessities.

“Scott. We’re here for groceries, not a Super Bowl snack fest.”

He put on his most betrayed face. “You said I could pick stuff.”

“Yeah. One thing.”

“I thought that meant per category. Like… one cheese, one chip, one chocolate-based delight.”

She stared at him.

“I’m a growing boy, you know? I need—” He pointed dramatically. “—calcium.”

“You don’t even like string cheese.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t respect it.”

Suddenly, he veered into the candy aisle like the cart was being summoned by forces beyond his control.

“Scott—no—”

“Mom. This is a critical junction.”

He picked up a bag of Sour Patch Kids, inspected it like he was decoding ancient runes, then dropped it into the cart with the solemnity of a war offering.

“I need these for my blood sugar.”

“You just had Starbucks.”

“That was brown sugar. This is rainbow sugar. It’s different.”

She considered grabbing the bag and tossing it back. But he hit her with the look. The dreaded, manipulative, pouty baby blues with raised brows combo.

“Fine,” she muttered, defeated.

He smirked and threw in a second bag.

“Nope.”

“Worth a try.”

They made it to the checkout with a cart full of 30% food, 70% emotional support snacks. Scott leaned on the cart again as she unloaded items.

“I did most of the work,” he said, watching her pile things onto the belt.

“You ran over a shopping basket and disappeared for five minutes.”

“I was doing recon in the bakery. For us.”

She laughed despite herself. “You’re exhausting.”

He leaned into her side like a heat-seeking missile. “But you love me.”

She handed him a box of eggs. “Careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

He immediately dropped the eggs.

They both stared at the shattered box on the floor.

Scott slowly looked up. “Okay. That one might be on me.”

She just shook her head, grabbed paper towels from the cart, and muttered, “Every. Single. Sunday.”

Scott grinned and slipped an extra candy bar onto the conveyor belt behind her back.

Because chaos was temporary.

But snacks?

Snacks were eternal.

#scott barringer fanfiction #scott barringer x you #scott barringer fluff #scott barringer x reader #hayden christensen #higher ground au

24 notes · View notes

ask-acadia · 3 months ago

Note

So what are the mechanics behind the movement of sprunki?

Oooo another biology question! Y’all know I love ‘em lol

So, remember how in an earlier post I mentioned that ancient polos had these things called “proto-bumpers”? Well, modern sprunki have smaller bumpers on the bottoms of their bodies:

These silly little things are the core behind the way they move! Similar to a sea slug, these bumpers move like you would see a conveyor belt move, and this helps them propel themselves at different speeds! A wide base, thicker skin beneath (behaves like paw pads), a big head, and often a tail help them balance. This also gives the illusion that they’re sliding around!

Now, you may have noticed that there is a third type of sprunki there with a completely flat base. Some are formed with a genetic disability where they don’t have those bumpers, referred to as discrygia. Discrygic sprunki often get around by hopping, as they are unable to slide like most do.

Discrygia can lead to muscle and skeletal fatigue later in life, and while there are no known cures or corrective procedures, many discrygic sprunki do live a long and happy life.

Also I’m glad you picked up on the silly “sprunki is singular and plural” grammar rule >:) the tragic result of me not liking the plural form for it

#sprunki #acadia asks #mod yapping

31 notes · View notes

lifesteal-headcanons · 10 months ago

Note

me: oh my god i love lifesteal!

also me: puts its characters through immense pain

anyways:3

after a player *die* dies in lifesteal(like, losing their last heart) they get transported to purgatory. however, everybody has a purgatory custom 'made' for them based on their actions and role

clownpierce's is the stage in the middle of a circus, balancing on a tightrope with bloody weapons stuck in the ground above him. red and white blinking lights shining on him, surrounded by manic laughter and circus music and shadows with eyes blown out wide in excitement, watching his every move. he lived a performer, so he will stay a performer.

zam's is an infinite castle, a maze of cobblestone and stone bricks. sometimes he comes across guards in full armour, who just echo all his paranoia back to him. 'its all your fault' 'youre here for a reason' 'youre a horrible person', their voice sounds like multiple people talking at once. no, multiple players talking at once. people who betrayed him, people he betrayed.

squiddo's, as seen in her video, is a graveyard. of everyone she lost, everyone she failed to protect. only the sun itself keeping her company. its peaceful, just like she tried to make the server be

branzy's is a massive conveyor belt, surrounded by turning gears and mechanisms and so much redstone dust in the air. avoiding arrows and tnt. a cat and mouse chase even after death.

ashswag's is a massive space of ones and zeros floating through a void, the sounds of keyboard typing echoing through it.

planetlord's is a dark hallway with mini figures of planets and stars hanging from the infinitely tall ceiling. he cant explore the galaxy, but he can atleast take a look at it.

-🔔 anon

#ask #headcanon #lifesteal smp #🔔 anon

61 notes · View notes

alex-wire-mesh · 2 years ago

Photo

Balanced Wire Belt

Balanced wire belt ensures efficient product conveying, heat transfer, and liquid filtration, with their interlocked weave, high tensile strength, and open mesh design.

Adaptability, longevity, and safety features make the wire belt a preferred choice across various industries, enhancing productivity and operational efficiency.

Features: 1. Interlocked Weave The belt is created by interlocking successive wires, ensuring uniform strength throughout the entire belt. 2. High Tensile Strength The use of high-quality stainless steel or carbon steel wires provides excellent tensile strength and load-bearing capacity. 3. Open Mesh Design The open mesh design facilitates efficient airflow and fluid drainage, making it suitable for applications requiring heat transfer or liquid filtration. 4. Flat Surface The belt’s smooth and flat surface allows for stable and consistent product conveying, minimizing the risk of damage or deformation.

Advantages: 1. Versatility The belt can be customized to meet various specifications and sizes, making it suitable for a wide range of industries and applications. 2. Easy Maintenance Its simple design ensures easy cleaning and maintenance, reducing downtime and increasing operational efficiency. 3. Longevity With robust construction and resistance to corrosion, the belt has an extended lifespan, offering a cost-effective solution over time. 4. Enhanced Safety The interlocked weave prevents the belt from unraveling, minimizing the risk of accidents and ensuring operator safety.

Applications: 1. Food Processing The belt is commonly used in food processing industries for baking, cooling, freezing, and washing applications. 2. Industrial Conveyor Systems The belt efficiently transports various products in industries such as automotive, electronics, and packaging. 3. Heat Treatment The open mesh design allows for uniform heat distribution, making the belt ideal for heat treatment processes like annealing and tempering. 4. Filtering and Dewatering Its open structure enables effective filtration and dewatering of liquids in industries such as wastewater treatment and chemical processing.

#Balanced Conveyor Belt #Balanced Mesh Belt #Balanced Spiral Wire Belt #Balanced Wire Belt #Conveyor Belt #Conveyor Belt Wire Mesh #Mesh Conveyor Belt #Metal Conveyor Belt #Steel Conveyor Belt #Wire Belt

0 notes

youzicha · 5 months ago

Text

Normal Accidents

📖Charles Perrow, Normal accidents: living with high-risk technologies, 1984. Second edition 1999.

The Title

This is another example of a book that lives on its title, a great racket which works like this:

Find a proposition which many people would like to be true. E.g., Nations are fake and don't exist except in people's imagination. Victorian doctors used vibrators as a treatment for hysteria. Computer programming used to be gender-balanced and then male programmers took over. There's no way to run a nuclear power plant without accidents.

Find a catchy phrase that strongly hints at the proposition without outright stating it.

Write a few hundred pages of text: long enough that plausibly somewhere in there could be convincing evidence of proposition X, and someone would have to spend a whole day reading to find out whether there is or not.

Congratulations, you are set for life.

The Theory

The book theorizes that there is a particularly intractable type of accident which it calls “system accidents”. They are different from simple component failure accidents and happen in systems that are “complex” and “tightly coupled”. It classifies systems on two axes: a system is “linear” if each subsystem mostly interacts with one subsystem in front and one after (like an assembly-line factory) or “complex” if the subsystems all interact with each other, and it is “tightly” coupled if each subsystem immediately affects the other one without room for recovery.

Perrow then reads a bunch of accident investigation reports from different industries (nuclear, chemical, airlines, maritime, etc) and highlights interactions and coupling. The whole book produces this diagram:

From this we conclude… what exactly? Maybe that system accidents are important, and we should pay attention to them? Or slightly stronger, that there are more accidents in the upper-right quadrant than in the other ones? A big problem is that Perrow never says precisely what he is trying to prove and doesn't apply any objective measures. I would want to count the number of accidents in different industries, and compare the ratio of system/non-system ones, or compare the absolute numbers, but Perrow just relates a sampling of accidents and says that they are illustrative.

Whether these accidents really are good illustrations of "system accidents" seems to depend a lot on the spin he puts on them. The classification into complex versus linear seems very hand-wavy. In one example of aviation, which is supposedly complex, "even after bailing out … there was room for the unexpected interaction" because the pilot was hit on the head by the falling ejection seat. By contrast the mining industry is assigned the center of the linear-complex axis, and one example concerns a worker who walked under a conveyor belt—and got hit on the head. Basically the same accident can be glossed as interactive or not.

Or how about this airplane accident:

The next accident, an account of problems with a four-engine corporate jet, the Lockheed Jet Star Model 1329, is more prosaic, but it gives some idea of the world of corporate jets and involves a system accident, unusual risks, and a safety change that was responsible for killing eight people. The safety improvement involved new, solid state units in the generator control units and new wiring. The airplane was flight-tested after installation and one generator failed. Repairs were made. In the next test flight, all four generators failed at one time or another, and were manually reset during flight. [Two weeks later] The plane crashed a mile short of the runway […] The NTSB is not certain of the proximate cause of the crash […] The example strongly suggests a system accident

It is typical of the book: there are no statistics showing that system accidents are common, only isolated examples, and in this example he doesn't even know what caused the accident!

(Later in the book the level of rigor goes down even further. For accidents in space, instead of reading accident investigation reports Perrow says "I am drawing here on the immensely entertaining, and exceptionally perceptive book by Tom Wolfe, The Right Stuff." Then for accidental war the discussion is based on Dr. Strangelove. And then he turns to DNA technology, which "appears to be complex in its interactions and tightly coupled, but I caution the reader that I know even less about it than I do about nuclear weapon systems." Thanks.)

But the actual central claim that Perrow wants to conclude is something even stronger than that systems accidents are common: he says that there is no way to prevent them. Thus the final chapter says that we should only accept complex-coupled systems if accidents have acceptably small consequences, and otherwise we must replace them with safer alternatives. In particular Perrow wants to get rid of nuclear power; the book started as an anti-nuclear pamphlet written after the Three Mile Island accident. But it seems quite hopeless to prove this impossibility by just reading accident reports.

So the book has much talk about catastrophic risk, but very few testable predictions. In fact, I could only find two. First, there is this paragraph about airline accidents:

With millions of operating years of experience, repeated trials, tests without catastrophic consequences, and considerable government support, the industry has been able to maximize the potential for technological fixes, including buffers and redundancies. Two engines are better than one; four better than two; the jet engine less complex than the piston engine; and of course the industry makes use of exotic new materials and instrumentation. System accidents in flying will remain, but they have been reduced substantially. […] The safety of both automobile travel and airline travel (and military and general aviation as well) has increased dramatically in this century, but since the 1960s and 1970s the safety curve has flattened out; we appear to be in the area where further increases are very hard to achieve.

It seems to say that airline accidents first fell quickly because we solved the issue of component failures, and now will fall no more because the rest is intractable systems accidents.

Second, there's this nicely unambiguous paragraph:

I would expect a worse accident than TMI in ten years—one that will kill and contaminate. […] There will be more system accidents; according to my analysis, there have to be. One or more will include a release of radioactive substances to the environment in quantities sufficient to kill many people, irradiate others, and poison some acres of land. There is no organizational structure that we would or should tolerate that could prevent it. None of our existing reactors has a design capable of preventing system accidents. Perhaps a safe one will be discovered—loosely coupled and linear—but I am doubtful.

Forty years later, there has not been any accidents in American nuclear power plants, so the analysis seems nicely refuted. The airplane accidents also did not come through. The trend in the 20th century was that the accident rate halved every 10 years:

And based on this data the same trend remained. From 1983-1989 to 1990-1999 the deaths per departure halved, from 1990-1999 to 2000-2009 they halved again, and from 2000-2009 to 2010-2017 it decreased even faster.

As it happens, there's a second edition from 1999 with a retrospective afterword, and it talks about how warmly the book was received while skipping over the fact that its predictions were wrong. It says “Commercial jet disasters are at approximately the same (low) level as in 1984, per departure” (no), and “of course we had Chernobyl”. But Chernobyl was not one of the American power plants whose incident reports the prediction was based on, and also it was not a systems accident. There was only one relevant subsystem, the core, and only one relevant parameter, the power output.

The second edition also adds a chapter about the Y2K problem, which could be "a test of the robustness and applicatory scope" of the Normal Accident Theory. While officials are optimistic, those Y2K plans are "fantasy documents" and there could be disaster whose "potential scale and scope dwarfs all other 'normal accidents' discussed in the book". (Notably one of the scenarios discussed in the book is a global nuclear war.) Having seen the actual outcome of Y2K, I think the robustness and applicatory scope comes across as well here as in the other cases.

Annoyances

So the theory seems dubious and the conclusions wrong, but that on its own would not make me write this long screed. What really gets to me is two annoying tics in the writing. First, constant smugness. The style matters because most of the book consists of summaries of accident investigations, and although they are supposed to illustrate his "normal accident theory", in practice he is mostly just writing descriptions without any particular theoretical angle. Of course I love reading accident reports too, but these days you can get all the pdfs you can read at the click of a mouse button, which raises the question what Perrow adds over the source material. And the main difference is that he thinks he is smarter than everybody else, and lets us know so through constant asides.

First, he is smarter than the reader. The first chapter, about the TMI accident, reassures us that it "will be the most demanding technological account in the book, but even a general sense of the complexity will suffice if one wishes to merely follow the drama rather than the technical evolution of the accident." Don't worry your pretty little head, Perrow is here to explain things. This tendency is even more annoying when he doesn't understand what he is explaining. He does not know what the word envelope means, and then projects his own confusion by saying that this aspect of flying has "poorly understood dynamics".

Second, he is smarter than the accident investigation board, and takes random snipes at them. A random board member in a press conference mentions a “remote possibility”, which Perrow jumps on. He comments that in marine accidents "the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) do what they can. But they can do little in this error-inducing system. […] It can happen. It is bound to. The recommendations are futile." I guess his methodology forces him to take this polemical tone, because all he is doing is reading accident investigation reports, so if he didn't complain, there would be nothing added by his descriptions.

In fact, he is smarter than just about anyone, and happy to share his observations even if they are not related to the accidents at all, e.g. “the approach to the Westchester Airport goes right over an interstate highway with one of those curious signs with the fruitless warning: ‘watch out for low flying aircraft’”.

I think this is a general hazard with writing about nuclear policy: both the pro- and anti-sides seem to have a lot of very smug people. I think for me the biggest takeaway from this book was that I should try to tone it down in my own writing.

The other annoyance is that Perrow never mentions any numbers, even in situations that really cry out for them. For example, there are many mentions of plutonium, in criticality accidents or when it was accidentally released from the Oak Ridge National Laboratory. An article says “‘in all plutonium incidents to date, only a small fraction of the plutonium involved was released.’ That is like saying that in a war, only a small fraction of the bullets kill anyone.” A Titan ICBM can “literally go off with the drop of a workman’s wrench and possibly release plutonium”.

And beyond these local accidents, in 1964 there was a “cosmic” one: “Most of the failures of the space program have not been death-dealing, and if they were, they were limited to first-party victims—the astronauts or technicians. However, in three cases of failures with plutonium power packs, the risks are potentially catastrophic, since plutonium is perhaps the most deadly substance known to humans. … a navigational satellite sent up in 1964 that failed to achieve orbit when its rocket engine failed. It reentered the atmosphere over the Indian Ocean and distributed 1 kilogram of plutonium-238 about the earth.”

Like, at this point surely you’d want to know how many people were actually killed? From looking around on google a bit, it seems the 1964 satellite may have caused two hundred cancer deaths if you assume the cancer risk scales linearly to extremely small radiation doses. (And it prompted a change in policy to no longer let plutonium burn up in the atmosphere.) To me this kind of number seems essential to judge how catastrophic the accident is.

Another example where the numbers are lacking:

The price of electricity from nuclear power plants does not reflect the very large government subsidies, nor the costs of the unsolved problem of long-term waste storage, nor even the unknown costs of dismantling reactors after their forty allotted years, if they run that long. Had all these been properly considered in the 1950s and included in the cost, this book would have not been written because no utility would have ordered a plant.

This claim is not cited to anything. I believe that people were in fact considering this, but in any case the costs are now known: the long-term waste storage came to 0.41 cent/kWh and the dismantling to 0.24 cents/kWh. Meanwhile electricity prices have varied between 19 cents/kWh and 13 cents/kWh (in 2020 dollars), so the waste + decommissioning costs are a rounding error in comparison to other factors.

At some point he says that “you are good at counting while I (as I tell my quantitative colleagues) don’t count”, but really, you live like this?

Coal versus nuclear

Perry spends most of the book talking about the risk from nuclear power plants. But what is the alternative? In the introduction he says

There is no technological imperative that says we must have power or weapons from nuclear fission or fusion, or that we must create and loose upon the earth organisms that will devour our oil spills. We could reach for, and grasp, solar power or safe coal-fired plants

And then he doesn’t mention those coal plants again until the final chapter. But as he was writing, American coal plants were killing 30,000 people/year. Compared to the deaths from cancer, that corresponds to multiple Chernobyl accidents every year. Does he not know this?

Actually he includes a final chapter about “current risk assessment theory”, where he notes that fossil fuel plants kill a lot more people than nuclear power, but nuclear power provokes more “dread” and “the public’s fears must be treated with respect”. I feel this would be more convincing if Perrow had not spent an entire book trying to stoke that fear.

He gives a more operational description of “dread risk”: “lack of control, high fatalities and catastrophic potential, inequitable distribution of risks and benefits, and the sense that these risks are increasing and cannot be easily reduced by technological fixes”. I think this still doesn’t distinguish the coal pollution and nuclear accidents very well. Neither is controllable, the particulate emissions and the radioactivity both drift with the wind, the parties that take the risk and benefits are the same for both, and the “sense” that technological fixes don’t work is illusory.

Of course, nowadays we know that coal has has another drawback besides the particulate pollution, and this is mentioned in a single paragraph, literally in parentheses!

(One enormous risk which the industrialized nations may be facing is not considered in this book on normal accidents; eliminating this ill would require much more drastic measures than any of the above: This is the problem of carbon dioxide produced from deforestation primarily, but also from burning fossil fuels such as coal, oil, and wood. This threatens to create a greenhouse effect, warming the temperature of the planet, melting the ice caps, and probably causing an incredible number of other changes, most of them disastrous. If it is significant—the experts do not agree—we may have a few decades to handle this; but it may be too late. It is one of the strongest cards the nuclear addicts can play, though the enormity of the problem, by some accounts, would dwarf the capacities of nuclear industry. We would have to divert our energy and natural resources from much of industry and use it to build nuclear plants for the next generation to meet some estimates. Battalions of scientists, engineers, and operators would have to be recruited and trained, and so on.)

Conclusion

This book is frequently cited (I have even seen tumblr users refer to it), and I think it’s considered a classic, so I was very disappointed. Let’s mark it as another mistake of the 20th century and forget all about it.

#review #nuclear power

35 notes · View notes

19thperson · 3 months ago

Text

19th's Steam Next Fest Impressions Feb 2025 Edition - Day 4

Day 0/Day 1/Day 2/Day 3

Rusty Rabbit

youtube

If I had a nickel for every game I've played this next fest featuring cute characters and whose protagonist is voiced by Takaya Kuroda, voice of Kiryu Kazama, I'd have two nickels, which is not a lot but it's weird it happened twice.

It's a Metroidvania about evolved rabbits digging through the ruins of humanity after the apocalypse.

Written by Gen Urobuchi. I'm liking the premise and tone, and enjoy the running gag of "no one in the rival group The BB's can agree on what their name actually stands for." But aside from that there's not much "hook" to the plot yet.

Your starting mech has a nice balance between being agile and feeling appropriately "stiff," since it's a homebrew pile of junk. Nothing gets in the way but it feels right.

The game has an experience system, where both fighting enemies and digging through rubble blocks gives XP. Worried the latter might encourage drudgery, but it's not there yet.

The combat was kinda boring, but they barely threw any enemies at you anyways. I'm hoping getting actual upgrades and actual combat will make it interesting.

There's supposedly going to be a crafting system but the demo stops before you can touch it.

Mashina

youtube

One game about digging deserves another.

compared to Rusty Rabbit, this game's idea of digging is a lot more freeform. Fly about on a 2d plane and drill through rock. Get minerals for items and, assumedly, upgrades. A conveyor belt building system suggests there will be a layer of automation. But the demo didn't really fully explore that.

The demo was very barebones in general. It seems mostly there to show off Jack King Spooner's trademark visual style: Mixed media, assets created by molding real clay and other items, cutscenes shot on a real camera, faces on the characters drawn with marker. From what I've seen this is always been his forte, but it feels like a step up from his previous game, Judero.

No idea how plotty it's going to be compared to Judero. There were a lot of characters, but trying to talk to most of them got an abrupt "NOT AVAILABLE IN DEMO."

The Electrifying Incident: A Monster Mini-Expedition

youtube

A Monster's Expedition was a puzzle game that was both incredibly relaxing and incredibly in depth. I'm glad the devs are going back to this particular well.

A Monster's Expedition was about pushing and rolling trees by hand, sokoban style. This game is about picking up and placing boxes using a grappling hook, putting them on buttons to turn off electrical grids, create bridges, or open doors.

There are some strong limitations, as expected for a puzzle game. For one, once you grab a box, the grappling hook functions like holding it at the end of a stick. Considering the large amount of bottomless pit in the map, this can make getting the box to solid ground a problem. Not only can your character not step on electrified ground, but if a box they're grabbing touching electrified ground, the shock will carry over. Not only can your character not step on electrified ground, but if a box they're grabbing touching electrified ground, the shock will carry over.

The demo was painfully short, and cut off abruptly, but it's already surprised me with a couple of its mechanics. I'll be keeping an eye on this.

The Path of Ren

youtube

Celeste-like precision platformer. The two main differences are 1) While there's wall and ceiling climbing, there's no stamina system limiting it. 2) the dash is not the central mechanical pillar like it was in Celeste. It's one of many very limited power ups.

The other power-up the demo offers is, for lack of a better word, "ghost mode." For a short period of time, your speed and jump height double, and transparent platforms become visible. Useful for when you need to do a long distance obstacle course quickly, but gets in the way when you want to do precision jumping in closed areas.

The game also plays more with enemies, or at least "obstacles with player-reactive behavior" The earliest is a spider that drops from above when you go under it, but it leaves a web you can climb. There are also grasping hand obstacles that do some light tracking, forcing you to give them a wider berth than expected.

While its pixel art and music can't fully match Celeste's quality, I do like the zen atmosphere they're going for.

Grimshire

youtube

If I'm going to follow themes today, might as well throw another bunny game in the mix while I'm at it.

Thinking about it, it's kind of odd that "farming" became synonymous with "cozy." I mean I get why, it's a good mechanical backdrop for daily routines, and there's a lot of idyllic pastoral imagery surrounding it but… aside from the labor aspect, farming can be pretty precarious.

That's the sort of scenario this game is exploring. It takes Stardew Valley and adds more pressure.

Your character arrives in the hamlet of Grimshire after being saved by a merchant ship, after the unnamed capital went in flames. You've given some abandoned farmland as is the norm in this type of game, but soon learn that the capital event is tied to a plague outbreak. With the majority of trade gone… your farm is the town's main source of food.

While there is individual buying and selling, the majority of your crops will be heading to a communal cellar. While I didn't test this, since I only played for a few in-game days… if you don't keep up, villagers will start dying. The woodland creature characters isn't just an aesthetic choice. It's a community of herbivores and carnivores, and you need to keep both fed.

There's also a voting system where the townsfolk will decide on emergency measures. While the first one is simply "do we build an herb garden or mushroom garden to try and keep up the medicine supply" I can imagine this will be used for dramatic effect later.

This isn't to say that the game is constantly bearing down on you aesthetically, or abandons any connection to the "cozy" games before it. Both the visuals and audio have a sort of soothing aspect to them, and there's still a sense of getting lost in the momentary tranquility. But the tally at the end of the day telling you exactly how many days of food are left in the communal cellar kind of snaps you out of it.

The game is in pre-alpha so a lot is up in the air of how the final product will look and play but this is a cool seeming twist on the formula.

I really need to dip further into Stardew so I can better experience the formula straight, though.

Hypogea

youtube

If I had a nickel for every time I've seen an indie game platformer about a decrepid robot exploring an impossibly large superstructure, I would have two nickels, (the other being Lorn's Lure.) It's not a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

Also if I had a nickel for every time I got to say the "it's weird that it happened twice" joke today I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice twice.

The main gimmick is your staff. Your character doesn't exactly have spring loaded heels, so you need to use it to boost yourself, pole vaulting and grasping distant ledges and hooks to swing from. These small hiccups add a nice sense of friction and momentum to what otherwise would just be "press a to jump."

There's only two "characters," your robot and another, one armed one that recussitated you. There's no dialogue, everything is expressed via body language. This makes me think it'll either be story lite, or try for abstractly heart wrenching a-la Team Ico's ouvre.

You do get to see some memories from now deactivated robots, showing there used to be humans in whatever superstructure this is, as well as some artefacts that give some very vague clues at what's happening.

I do worry the environments will get samey if it's all going to be blue-grey cavernous industrial stuff. Hopefully the final release will expand on the visual palette.

Kejora

youtube

I see time loop game, I click. I then get disappointed.

Kejora is an Indonesian puzzle adventure game about the titular girl realizing her village is stuck in a time loop and also there are monsters hiding around. Also her mom is sick and her dad is dead which will probably be used for a good heartstring tug.

The art direction is for the most part good, and while the effort is unevently distributed, there's proof that they CAN animate here. It's just that the areas that are stiffer are the moment to moment game interactions. The stuff you see most often.

the puzzles are either standard adventure game "bring object A to area B" or "summon one of your friends to use one of their abilities." Those latter ones especially felt... kind of like busywork. Especially since your friends just teleport to you when you call them. No reason to consider their positioning when setting up the puzzle.

The translation is… ass. Weird wording, constantly shifting tenses, everyone has a robotic tone. And yet I can't blame the entirety of the writing on the translation, because the game has an exposition problem. Everyone is constantly restating things and saying the obvious.

Anyways I looked at the Dev's youtube and apparently this used to be a Metal Slug-like???

Nitro Express

youtube

Since I already got Metal Slug on the mind might as well try this.

A run and gun where you're a gun freak girlfailure who has been hired to be part of the special taskform for when companions, multipurpose autonomous vehicles, go rouge. in other words, shoot robbit.

The pixel art is gorgeous. There is a slight problem of the screen feeling a bit busy though, Kinda wish they pulled a CAVE and did purple bullets.

The combat overall feels good. The dodge roll feels nice, and it's not a free get out of jail free card, since you can only roll forward. You get your I-Frames in exchange for staring right down the enemy's barrel.

The gunplay feels nice. I kinda wish there wasn't a reload system though, even if it happens automatically. I'm already dealing with positioning and aiming, I don't want to have to track my mag at the same time.

My other complaint is that if you cause a car to explode right in front of your face you take damage. Which. makes sense. But I'm still mentally going off Metal Slug rules.

Lastly, I like that the health pickups are you shooting down a food delivery drone and stealing someone's meal.

Worth checking out.

#19th's steam next fest impressions #Rusty Rabbit #Mashina #The Electrifying Incident #The Path of Ren #Grimshire #Hypogea #Kejora #Nitro Express #Youtube

10 notes · View notes