#Develop a Voice Chat App

[blue-jisungs]

[ 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 ] kiss attack

# author’s note … i dunno pookies just a random thought inspired by the first pic ^^

# summary … surprising them with kisses OR pepper kisssonf their faces (out of the blue, mostly hehe)

# warnings ... some members might be suggestive if u squint, some r longer than others, not proofread (bare w me bc i wrote this in a car during multiple ocasions in my notes app w/o autocorrect so ! :D i know u love me guys heheheh)

┆彡 SEUNGCHEOL [ 승철 ]

coming home late from yet another photo shoot, cheol desired nothing more than a warm bed and falling asleep with you in his arms. he tries to be as quiet as possible when entering your shared home, aware that you’re probably asleep. and his leader instincts are correct, the place drowning in midnight darkness. taking his shoes off, slipping into fresh pajamas, slowly but surely dipping into the mattress… and home, he’s finally home. your sleeping silhouette is drawn next to him, only slightly lit up by the moonlight peeking through the window. just when he sneaks his arms around you and closes his eyes, ready to drift asleep, your body moves suddenly and there’s a quick but deep peck landing on his lips. then, as if nothing happened, you roll on the other side and curl into him. seungcheol feels his heart grow and fill with warmth as he falls asleep with a smile blooming on his lips and pink dusted on his cheeks.

┆彡 WONWOO [ 원우 ]

"hey, wonu?" you ask and peek your head through the door, only to notice him being busy with a video game.

"give me a sec!" your boyfriend hums and the only thing you can see are the flashing lights and images on his screen "is it important?"

"no, not really" you answer and walk up to him, noticing that he has one of his headphones off his ear to hear you. a habit he developed ever since you moved in "i mean, depends how you look at it"

wonwoo turns around to check up on you and then you attack. cupping his face quickly and planting a sweet kiss on his plush lips.

"bye!" you giggle and run away, leaving him frozen in place. he’s too stunned to speak and too flustered to move, heart beating like crazy and stomach filling with butterflies.

"hey, dude, come on! we’re losing because of you!" someone whines in the voice chat and wonwoo takes a glance at the door, where you were moments ago. with a whipped grin plastered on his lips he shakes his head and returns to the pleasantly interrupted game.

┆彡 MINGYU [ 민규 ]

mingyu was cooking dinner peacefully, focused on his task. mingyu’s engagement in the kitchen was no joke, multitasking and executing the recipe on spot. which is why he didn’t hear nor see you entering his work space. better yet, he didn’t acknowledge your waltzing in and wrapping your hands around his waist. only when you gave him it a little squeeze. your man turned around, shocked pout on his face. to be fair, you didn’t want to disturb him. but pouty mingyu was just too adorable not to kiss - so you did, gently but quickly; his lips tasting like the vegetables he was cooking (and snacking on).

"what was that for…?" he hummed and wanted to kiss you properly but you leaned away, resting your cheek against his broad shoulders.

"nothing" you mumbled incoherently and he came back to cooking, not noticing he just added too much salt.

┆彡 VERNON [ 버논 ]

you would think vernon is asleep at the first glance. laying in bed, one hand on his stomach and the other under his head. his eyes were closed and face was resting, chest rising up and down slowly. but occasionally he’d reach and scratch his nose. he was listening to a podcast with his headphones in. and something just possessed you, it was like you had to cover his cute face with kisses or you’d - not to be dramatic - explode. you climbed on top of him, cupping his face slowly. vernon didn’t even budge. then you started gently pepper-kissing his face, planting kisses on the most random places. your plush lips tickled him a bit but he didn’t really mind; just when you were done but still holding his face, he peeked an eye open.

"everything okay?" vernon asked. you just nodded and placed one more kiss on top of his nose, then left to continue with your day.

┆彡 SOONYOUNG [ 순영 ]

"yah, kwon soonyoung!" your yell echoed through the practice room, causing all the members to halt. the said criminal turned with his eyes widened in pure terror. his mind raced with thoughts: did he forget something? did he do something? or didn’t do? recalling events from this morning, he failed to notice when you stormed right at him.

"i’m sorry i’m sorry im sorry–" he started whining, eyes scanning your face in search of bad signs but he saw a flash of mischievous smirk on your lips.

"you forgot this" you hummed and pecked his lips quickly with a loud 'mwah!' and ran away, giggling.

"that woman is crazy. she’s making me crazy. actually, we’re both maniacs" soonyoung murmured, touching his lips. his friends shared a laugh, looking at his whipped state.

┆彡 JUNHUI [ 文俊辉 ]

"hey, sleepyhead, wake up!" you whine as you tug jun’s shirt for the millionth time in the span of three minutes. your boyfriend decided to take a nap before you leave to the planned date but apparently he wasn’t keen on waking up. "jun!"

he mumbles something you can’t quite decipher and turns to his back, soft snores escaping his parted lips.

"fine" you sigh and straddle him, pepper-kissing his face. with each kiss landing on his features, you feel his smile grow. once you brush just against the corner of his lips, his smile is way too wide to pretend he’s still sleeping.

"you did that on purp–" you start but aren’t meant to finish because junhui’s large hands grab your face and pull you in a real, deep and passionate kiss.

well, you take that as a yes.

┆彡 MINGHAO [ 徐明浩 ]

whenever minghao was meditating, you avoided to disturb him. not to lose balance and be able to focus… you closed the door and waited until he was done. but today you just couldn’t bare a second without him, your heart longing to be in his presence (even though you live together). hao had his eyes closed, focused on his breathing. but he did hear the soft click of door opening and then the sound of your food paddling against the floor. you tried to keep your volume down, certain that he did not hear you. before he could expose you, there was a series of kisses attacking his face. the feeling of your lips against his skin was pleasant but made him lose focus completely. before he could realize, you were already running off, giggling. minghao opened his eyes and looked around, shocked, and with the tips of his ears painted with red shade.

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

chan was sitting on the sofa, brows slightly furrowed and concentration all over his face. his slim fingers were typing at the speed of light, discussing something with his members. normally you’d think it’s something important but to be honest, you knew them too well. they were simply arguing what to eat for lunch tomorrow.

you were watching him, smiling subconsciously; he still made your stomach swirl with butterflies as if you were a teenage girl with her doorway crush.

and the feeling was just too strong to resist, you just had to kiss him.

so you got up and stood in front of him, not aware of your presence yet.

with a quick lean, you pressed a tender, loving kiss onto his plush lips. chan froze, fingers halting mid-air. he kissed you back and leaned away with a puzzled look.

"what was that for…?" he whispered, blinking slowly.

"nothing. you’re just cute" you answered with a shrug and sat down next to him, opening instagram. chan, a little flustered, reassumed the lunch dispute

┆彡 JEONGHAN [ 정한 ]

"you’re cheating!" jeonghan whines, a pout forming on his lips. you sigh, shaking your head with the cards in your hands.

"just because my cards are good doesn’t mean i’m chaeating… unlike you, sneaky fox" you snickered and put another card on top of his. maybe you should’ve known that playing uno with him won’t end well but in the end, jeonghan is passionate about winning in every game.

"that’s literally not possible, how come you have three cards left and i have like… thirteen?!" jeonghan puffs his cheeks and places a green one card "i hate this–"

you lean over the stack of cards and shut him up with a slightly aggressive kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip with a smug smirk.

you can hear him sigh softly and kiss you back. before he can realize, you put down your three colored ones and lean away, patting your things.

"uno… and, well, also no uno since i won" you smirked and jeonghan was left speechless, mouth open wide. whether you cheated or not during the game, it was an impressive win.

"no… but… that’s, that’s– that was cheating!" he whines again but this time only to make you laugh again.

┆彡 JOSHUA [ 조슈아 ]

joshua was still half asleep when he was brushing his teeth, his hair sticking in every direction possible and eyes half closed… struggling to keep his head stable.

you just looked at him through the mirror, smiling at your boyfriend’s drowsy state.

"do we have to get up so early…" he mumbled, barely audible due to the foam in his mouth.

"you booked the flight so early, not me" you chuckled and finished applying cream onto your face. you had to leave soon if you wanted to be at the airport early.

joshua answered something incoherent and spat out the toothpaste, washing his mouth with water.

he blinked slowly and caught your gaze in the mirror.

you just smiled and turned around, cupping his face. then you started peppering his face with gentle kisses everywhere: cheeks, forehead, nose, eyelids. and finally, his peppermint tasting lips.

"awake yet, sleepyhead?" you titled your head with a gentle smile and joshua nodded, a lazy smirk on his lips "good. i’ll make us breakfast then"

and when you left the bathroom, he realized he’d really feeling more awake.

┆彡 JIHOON [ 지훈 ]

jihoon had his headphones on so he wasn’t able to hear you but he did certainly see you. a small smile painted on his lips as he was observing you pacing around the gym. while he was busy curling his arms, you were bored out of your mind and there was nothing to aggravate your boredom. it’s not like you didn’t like accompanying him to the gym and watching him work out; no, quite the contrary. it’s just that he was in his space and there was nothing interesting to do besides watching him. you peeked at him in the mirror and caught his eye on you. then, your gaze slid to his arms.

"hey, my eyes are up here"

your gaze snapped back to him and his cocky smile. heat rose to your cheeks upon being caught. you had to shut him up.

"i know you’re bored but–" jihoon started, probably to tease you, but was interrupted by your lips meeting his. he almost dropped the dumbbell he was holding but came back to reality once he couldn’t feel the plush of your lips no longer. "what was that…?"

"go back to working out, smartass" you snickered and watched him be the flustered one now.

┆彡 SEOKMIN [ 석민 ]

"and then chan came out, fully dressed as pi cheolin! i swear, the sound of carats’ laughter made my day" dokyeom rambled. even though your back was facing him, you could still feel the gentle shake of the mattress due to his dynamic gesturing

"and i couldn’t help but laugh too! our chan is just so talented, maybe he should start an acting career! because i swear, it’s like… chan is gone and pi ch–"

as much as you loved dokyeom’s voice, whether talking, singing or laughing, you just wanted to doze off after an exhausting day. but he just wouldn’t stop talking.

"–possessed him! i swear i think my ribs got fractured after laughing so hard, he was just so into it–"

seokmin suddenly felt your lips crushing on his. the taste of your toothpaste exploded on his tongue, freezing on spot due to the passion of your kiss. it felt like eternity but in a good way; he kissed you back until he couldn’t breathe anymore. you noticed that and pulled away, this time facing him and burying your face into his side.

"i love you, kyeom, but for the love of mine please go to sleep" you murmured softly and he fell silent. not only because you told him to, also because his huge grin prevented him from further talking.

┆彡 SEUNGKWAN [ 승관 ]

"what a beautiful view…" seungkwan let out a deep sigh, looking amazed at the panoramic in front of him. you were holding his hand and admiring it too.

it was a random tuesday afternoon and you decided to go on a hike on a nearby hill. and even though it was exhausting, it was worth it. pallets of greens and yellows sprung in front of your eyes, blurring with the cloudless, blue sky.

"this one is more beautiful tho" you hummed suddenly. seungkwan turned around to see what did you mean but you just pecked his lips and squeezed his hand with a cheeky smile.

"that was so cheesy…" he rolled his eyes and while you turned again to adore the nature, his eyes stayed glued to your face with amused smile.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee ,, @haecien

[deorwineinfotech]

OpenAI created ChatGPT, an innovative language model. It understands and generates human-like prose depending on the input it gets using powerful artificial intelligence algorithms.ChatGPT’s conversational features allow it to participate in engaging discussions, deliver information, and assist with a wide range of actions.

[mockerycrow]

I’ve been toying with the lovely idea that the 141 boys have their own Penelope Garcia (from Criminal Minds) who is just their little ray of light, just so cute 🥰

!!gn!reader!! — can be read as platonic or romantic

Whilst sitting at your desk of your many monitors, your radio began to pick up chatter which meant the team was trying to make contact. You immediately pick up your headphones and angle your microphone, hearing the last of Price’s sentence. “—ending you a file now.”

You hum into the microphone and scoot your chair towards one of your many keyboards. “Only caught the last part, Cap’. A file you said?” You ask, typing up a password before a chat log opens up. “Yes, we need you to look into the source code, lookin’ for anythin’ that makes sense, love.”

You quickly receive a file and run it through a scanner app you developed yourself as well as a decryption app in case it was protected with extra measures. “Mm, I love hide and go seek. Running it through now, sir.” You respond with an obvious grin in your voice. You hear Soap laugh through the radio. “Let us hear it when it’s done, aye?”

Your lips twitch from his voice, your eyes glued to a screen as you twiddle with a pen. “Anything for you, Suds.” Which earns you a belly laugh from the man and a groan from Price. Your screen pops up a couple of images as it popped through the encryption. “Mm, alright searching now….” A few more seconds before another window pops up. “Santa Fe,” You call out. “Only one that scans like an actual word.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You hear Ghost rumble, and you can’t resist the shit eating grin. “Do I get a reward?” You can’t resist making the joke, popping a candy into your mouth from a bowl on your desk. “When we get back, I’ll buy ya dinner.” Gaz offers, making you clutch your chest and playfully groan. “My dream man! Safe travels, yeah?”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

texting Stan and Ford headcanons

smut version

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.

✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.

✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”

✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”

✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”

✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”

✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.

✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"

types of messages Stan texts: 

"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"

“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"

"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."

"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"

"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"

“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”

"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”

"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."

“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines 

✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.

✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."

✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.

✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."

✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.

✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments

✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”

types of messages Ford texts: 

“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."

sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”

“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”

“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."

"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose? 

“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"

"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."

"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”

ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL

lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))

[cuppajoel]

the next seven dates| the contractor

PAIRING: modern au/ no cordyceps/younger (late 30s)!Joel Miller x plus size!reader

SYNOPSIS: Dating apps have convinced you that love isn’t real and that all men are pigs. Turning to your bffs for a Hail Mary, you ask them to set you up on a blind date each to restore your faith. Your first date is with a contractor called Joel.

wc: 8.7k (oops)

TAGS: 18+MDNI, NSFW, Modern AU, smut, developing relationships, reader is plus-sized, able bodied and afab, no other description is given. Heavy flirting, first date vibes, Joel is a gentleman at heart, dirty talk, heavy petting in a taxi, alcohol consumption, sex while under the influence, pnv protected (the crowd boos) sex, v fingering, oral sex (f receiving). Both characters are in their 30s.

A/N: I started writing this in September and fell away so many times bc writing for Joel Miller scares me. If you’re looking for a sign to write the thing that you want to read, this is it. Not beta’d.

For context of the fic. This shot is called a blowjob. It’ll all make sense, I promise.

Reblogs, comments and likes are all appreciated <3

Jingling your keys in your right hand, you watch as the numbers climb on the digital display, showing what floor you’re on. You’re exhausted. You let your head fall back against the mirrored surface behind you, your back resting on the metal bar and your eyes fluttering shut for a moment of respite. Although it wasn’t the worst date you’d ever been on, it was a close second or third. You take a deep breath.

From the moment you stepped foot into that bar, the guy was a red flag that turned into a 5-alarm fire.

“Oh wow you look good… A lot like my sister… DING Not that I think my sister looks good, but you look hot, d’you work out? DING Yeah, you can tell… how much do you squat? DING oh, well, I could probably bench you…DING We should try that sometime, if you know what I mean? DING. He laughs, a mix of a frat bro and that lizard meme comes to mind.

The elevator doors open with another ding, making your right eye twitch slightly as you cross the carpeted hall to your apartment. You turn the key in the lock and give your door the customary shoulder barge before the locking mechanism is released. Hooking your jacket and purse on the wall and locking the door behind you, you kick off your shoes and head straight for your giant corner couch, collapsing onto it with a huff.

This wasn’t just a bad date. It was a bad date after a series of bad dates, one after another. The only takeaway from each is that people seriously hyperbolise themselves online.

You were relatively new to the world of online dating after catching your fiancé of three years, Jake, doing the downward dog with your shared yoga teacher only eight months ago.

Jake was everything you thought you wanted. A nice guy with a secure 9-5 and a handsome face. But everything about him was just nice. Your dates, your apartment, your sex- all nice. And at the end of it all, he was cheating on you- real fucking nice.

Unlocking your phone, it opens to the group chat thread between you and your two best friends. You hold down the voice note button.

“So you may be wondering ‘Why is she home already?’ Well, my sweet summer children, not only did my date admit that he found his sister attractive and wanted to ‘bench me’ all before we ordered our first drink…” You pause for dramatic effect, knowing they can’t hear you, but it makes you feel better. You huff out an empty chuckle. “I am just so over it. How can a man say that his favourite film is “Little Women”, have pictures of his rescue cats on his profile, and still be that much of a stereotypical douche?” You fling your head back, resting it on the top of your couch.

“I’m going to do something dramatic and soooo not me… I am deleting the apps… the two of you are tasked with finding me a date each. I don’t wanna know anything about them before I see them- just their name, age, and one picture. You decide who is going first and the winner gets to be maid of honour at the inevitable wedding… Anyway, I’m going to go read one of my fairy porn books and contemplate my life… Night, loves!”

Somehow, you muster the energy to shift yourself from the couch to your room. You bunch up your tainted date clothes, toss them in the general direction of your hamper and pull on an oversized T-shirt. The wasted makeup is double-cleansed off your face, and you shove your hair up into an extremely unflattering bun. Grabbing your Kindle from under your pillow, you flop back onto your bed; your dates with the beautiful high-fairy king never disappoint.

Almost a week later, your best friends pull through. Having found a guy each, who they swear is the one you’ve been looking for, they arrange your dating schedule between themselves. Tonight was the first. In the Uber ride over to the restaurant, you send your location to your friend who set up the date.

Any last-minute words of wisdom?

He’s kinda that strong, silent type.

Also southern

A gentleman for sure!

Hopefully not all of the time 😮‍💨

You shove the car door closed, adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder, and tuck your phone inside. You feel good tonight. Blue jeans, a red lip, oversized, white-button down, black, pointed-toe, heeled boots-damn they hurt, but they look so good. You slide your index fingers into the belt loops either side of your hips, hiking them up slightly to allow the denim to stretch around your ass just right.

Rounding the corner, you find yourself on the strip of bars and restaurants on the main street. You weave in and out of the patrons, everyone being washed with the rich blues and reds of the neon lights beaming down on them. As you push the door with your hip and descend the two steps to the bar, you lick your teeth, making sure they’re free from any red stains.

Inside is quite the contrast from the bustle of the streets a few feet away. The place is busy, for sure, but it’s as if everyone is collectively trying to keep the atmosphere calm and easy. A massive mahogany coloured bar is the feature of the room, with hanging, warm, filament bulbs creating small spotlights all along it.

You walk further into the room, parallel with the bar, coming to a stop at its corner, facing the bartender. You squint your eyes slightly, trying to pull out familiar shapes from the hundreds of glass bottles behind the bar. The bartender gives you a small smile; it’s your turn.

“Can I have a Tanqueray Savillia gin and tonic, please?” You ask with a soft smile, reaching for your purse to pull out your wallet. “Oh, and a shot of tequila…” You wouldn’t normally mix drinks on the first round, but you also wouldn’t normally go on a blind date.

“Sure. Do you wanna start a tab?” is the return. You look up to answer their question, having retrieved your card and holding it firm between your index and middle fingers.

“Yeah, plea-“

“I got the this one.” A warm, sturdy presence flanks you on your right shoulder. Their strong right hand is placed gently on the bar next to you. Your eyes flick up to the mirrors behind the bar, meeting his in the reflection. He’s looking right back at you through the glass, and a small, closed-mouth smile creeps across your face as you turn to face him in real life.

“Joel?” He nods slowly in response, the smile not faltering as he looks down at you, a glitter in his espresso-coloured eyes. His eyes trail down your form and then back up; you allow yourself to do the same to him. Although not the tallest man you’ve seen, he’s built big.

He’s wearing a charcoal grey, brushed-cotton button down and dark-wash denim jeans that fit him perfectly. Both sleeves of his shirt are folded in on themselves and stop just below his elbow. His hair must be naturally wavy or curly, but it’s been pushed back and tamed slightly, a few curls going rogue.

“Hey, it’s good to meet ya,” he tips his head down slightly as you raise yours, meeting each other in the middle as you press a kiss on the other person's cheek. He smells warm and masculine, a mix of cedarwood and something earthy, like basil. “I’ll take a Glenlivet 15 and a shot of tequila- the tab is under Miller. Thank you.” He smiles firmly at the bartender. Your eyes follow the line of his thick neck, up through his jaw, which is peppered with trimmed salt and pepper stubble.

“Shit, I’m sorry…” your hand comes up to his jaw, remnants of your merlot coloured lipstick on his cheek. He turns back to you and creases his eyes slightly, not following your apology but also not flinching an inch as you place your hands on him.

Your thumb moves in a slow and firm window-wiper motion to try and remove the stain. “I got lipstick on you…” Your left hand now comes up to the other side of his face, pushing ever so slightly to get him to turn to face you more. He preens into your touch, malleable to where you want him. The trimmed stubble pricks lightly at your fingertips.

“Is it my colour at least?” He teases, he looks down at you from the corner of his eye as you woman-handle his face. Damn, his voice is deep. It rumbles through your chest, signifying how close you are to this broad, thick, stranger.

“Yes. Very pretty.” You return with the same level of flirt. Your eyes shift from the red mark you’ve placed on him to his as you give him a lazy smile. The bartender sets up your drinks on the bar in front of you, making you both finally pop from whatever bubble you found yourself in. Three minutes in and you’re already cradling his face? Nice one, babe. You hear your friend's voice in your head.

“Well…” Joel picks up both shot glasses of tequila and hands you one, raising his own, and an eyebrow in your direction. “Cheers-“

“Hold it!” You cut in, your glass also raised to the same level as his. “Gotta look me in the eyes as we drink… otherwise it’s seven years bad sex.” You say, dipping your voice ever so slightly as you remember the above dive-bar standard of the room you find yourself in.

“Shit- well…” Joel smirks, he clinks his glass against yours. “Can’t be havin’ that now darlin’” That southern accent clings to every word as he throws the liquid back, his eyes not faltering for a second. You mirror his actions entirely, trying your best not to screw up your face as the liquid heats your insides.

He gives a silent chuckle before leaning into you again, hand on the small of your back and his mouth hovering just over your ear. “I snagged a table in the corner over there…” He points over your shoulder and you follow with your eyes. “Means you can keep telling me how pretty I am…” he teases and resumes his stance- one giant hand supporting himself on the bar.

Your mouth raises slightly at the sides. That first shot of alcohol hits you nicely as the smell of his cologne makes you breathe harder. “Sure.” You grab your drink from the bar and walk ahead of him to the vacant table, hoping that ‘ol’ faithful’ jeans are doing their job.

You stop just before the chair that isn’t covered by his leather jacket, waiting for confirmation. It comes in the form of Joel pulling out the seat for you. “Pretty and a gentleman… so many sides to you, Joel.” You say, not putting your full weight on the chair so that he can tuck it in under you.

He quickly joins you at the table, his large presence not diminished by his seated position. “Well, what can I say? I’ve got many talents.” He shrugs as he takes a sip of his amber liquid, the ice clinking softly as he places it back down.

In the ease of the past forty minutes, you both had forgotten that this was a first date. A charged silence falls upon you both as you simply take each other in, smiling widely when you catch eyes.

Joel watches as you unconsciously play with your necklace. He’s actively trying to stay in the room rather than let his mind wander about your full, rounded lips that flash red with danger.

“So, I gotta say, I thought you’d be a little more bossy given your demand for a blind date… You do that often?” He sips the whisky, hoping it will bring him back to earth. He so desperately didn’t want to be the guy not paying attention to what you were saying, given that he had asked the question.

“No,” you started, your eyes crinkling at the sides as you smile, “I don’t usually demand that they set me up on blind dates, but the last guy I went on a date that I organised admitted his attraction towards his sister and then tried to organise sex… all within the same sentence, so I’m starting to doubt my abilities to pick for myself.”

Joel splutters on his drink slightly, the fiery liquid catching the back of his throat as he coughs. “You got any siblings?” you cock your head, chuckling that you caught him off guard.

“My brother has a bit too much moustache for my taste,” he says, taking another quick sip to hopefully soothe the burning in his throat. “And I don’t tend to ‘schedule in’ sex.” He murmurs, the words coming out a bit laboured due to the whisky in his throat.

“Noted.” You return, “I’ll make sure to keep mine at bay.” You rub your upper lip before finishing off the last mouthful of your drink. “You want another drink?” You ask in a way that sounds hopeful. Not wanting to run after 10 minutes? Double nice one babe.

“Yeah.” He savours the last sip of his drink, licking across his bottom lip. “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, this one’s on me, pretty.” You wink at him. Joel opens his mouth in protest but wavers, a slight flush coming over him at his new nickname. “Same again?” You ask.

Joel notices how the lights strung around the place bounced off your eyes, making it harder to see their colour but even more difficult to look away. You pick up his empty glass as you stand. Joel nods in response, giving an earnest “Thank you, darlin’.” As he watches you make the small walk from your table to the bar, he gives himself full permission to check you out.

Your jeans look like they were painted on by the devil, caressing every curve of your waist and thighs. The back pocket of your pants stretches and pulls as you slide one of your hands in, waiting on a popped hip to be served at the bar. The denim leaves little to the imagination but, boy, was Joel imagining? He never wanted to be in a wrestling match more than with this pair of pants. He takes a deep breath, trying not to think about how difficult it would be to peel them off your body.

You move, shifting your weight to your other hip; your heels must be hurting you, he thinks. He lets his eyes wander up over your silhouette, up to your profile, as he does, he sees your eyes waiting for his. “Busted.” you mouth to him, your lips forming a wicked smile.

Joel smirks too, not letting up his gaze and nodding. ”So busted.” he says under his breath.

It’s not long before you join him back at your table, setting his down in front of him with a tip of your head before sitting back and enjoying a long sip from your own.

From the corner of your eye, the bartender comes over, placing two shot glasses in front of you. “Ah, thank you!” You say to them as they return to their bar. “Here ya go, I didn’t have enough hands for everything.” You hold out the shot to Joel with a devious look that wasn’t there before you’d left.

It wasn’t a shot Joel had ever seen before, a mix of different browns and beiges topped off with whipped cream. Joel takes the small glass between his fingers and crinkles his eyes at you. “Should I be scared?” He says, turning the glass to see the different liquors marbling together.

“That depends…” You move your shot glass to your other hand and lick some whipped cream off your thumb before switching it back to your dominant hand. “Do you like blowjobs, Joel?” You flutter your lashes and smile sweetly at the man across from you, whose jaw had just gone slack and eyes darker from the last time you’d looked at them.

Joel, not wanting to interrupt whatever mood you’d returned with from that bar, makes a deep “mmm mmm mmm” sound that started somewhere in his chest as he shakes his head and purses his lips. “You are trouble, ain’t you?” With that, you clink the glass against his and smile again.

“You have no idea.” You tip the glass back along with your head, just slightly so as not to break eye contact. Joel mirrors your motions, trying not to tempt fate given that he had a demon in front of him. Quickly, his gaze falters as the contrast in taste between the shot and his whisky has him shivering.

“Is that the best blow job you’ve ever had?” There you were again, licking the sweetness of the liquor from where it’d spilled on your fingers. A carnal image of you doing that after having his cock in your mouth flashes before his eyes. He shifts in his seat, having to tug at the denim at his crotch.

“Probably not.” Joel starts, taking a drink to rid his mouth of the overly sweet shot. “But, I believe in second chances-can always try again.” The liquor was starting to talk for him as he felt it climb his neck and up his ears.

“Okay, so I have this game that I play on dates…” You start, somehow your chair had drifted closer and closer throughout the night, as you both take turns getting the next round from the bar. As you sit elbow to elbow with Joel, close enough to smell the whisky that mixes with his earthy cologne.

“I like where this is headed already.” His accent has gotten stronger over the hour that has passed.

You shove his shoulder, “Shut upp. The game is that you have to imagine that your memory is wiped, so you get to experience things for the first time again… I then give you a category and you can only pick one thing, okay? So, if I were to say movie: what movie would you want to experience watching for the first time again?”

“Blade Runner”, he says, without hesitation. His eyes were starting to have that warm, glazed look that comes with drinking. “You?”

“Probably Scream or Fight Club- I like a twist. Vacation?”

“Ireland.”

“Australia.” you respond, picking up the pendant on your necklace out of habit, dragging it back and forth along the chain. Joel follows the movement of your fingers with his eyes, letting it soothe him too. “Food?”

“Mmmm, that’s a hard one…probably something that my Mom makes, like chilli or barbecue.”

“You’re easy to please, hm?”

“Give me a plate of good food and I’m yours.” He picks up his glass, trying to savour the liquid as you’d both agreed ‘just one more’ two drinks ago.

“I also love chilli.” You start, watching the way his lips wrap around the glass and how his tongue flicks across his lips when he sets it back down. “But I think I’d go with a dessert like chocolate fudge sundae… or, have you ever had one of those French pastries… What are they called? Pain au chocolat? That would be mine.”

He hums again, enjoying watching you ask and answer your own questions. The fidget that you started with the pendant of your necklace holding steady. In a moment of no thought, Joel slowly reaches out and stills your movement to look at the gold medal. “This is pretty.” He says to himself more than anything.

His big hand covers yours and flips the coin-shaped jewellery over with his fingers, the only response you can muster, “mmm”. He surveys the jewellery as best he can in the dim light of the bar, noticing the engraving on the back.

“It’s my initials.” You say. Your hand, and his, staying exactly where they are.

“Oh, you have a middle name.” More an accusation than a question. He sounds as if he’s uncovering some hidden gem about you. “What is it?”

“Nuh uh, you’re not getting it that easy. That’s for date five at least.” You tease, your gaze becoming heavier, the devious glimmer in Joel’s eyes becoming stronger.

“Anything else special happen on date five?”

”You might get another blowjob… but you were so ungrateful for the first one.” Your eyes drop to his mouth and then back up to his.

Joel can feel himself aching to be closer to you. His hand that holds the pendant now drifts to your jaw, his thumb feathering over your cheek, mirroring the window-wiper hold you had him in the first moments that you’d met each other.

He had a craving to explore every part of you, to taste, smell, and hear you. The need shoots through every nerve ending, spurring him on to take everything he can. But he has to slow down, or else take you to the bathroom and make you fill up all of his senses.

The Texan gentleman within him holds strong, as much as he could feel all of his reasoning heading south. He brings his face closer to yours, that slanted smile quickly becoming your favourite sight. “Can I take you home?” He rumbles, his voice low and soft so only you both could hear it.

The whisky on his breath makes your eyes flutter as you draw a sharp breath at his question. Your mouth turns up at the sides, you can tell your eyes have the same shimmer as his. Tipsy. Ready.

This wasn’t something you’d planned on. You had so many rules about first dates: No kissing (hence the red lipstick), no sharing a car, and no sex until you felt safe. With this man’s hand cradling the back of your neck and his calloused thumb tracing down your jaw and back again, you feel like syrup dripping over hot pancakes.

You’ve lost all sense of what time it is, or how long you’d been sitting there, inches from his face as your body screams at you to kiss him.

His face is so close to yours that his features become fuzzy. Your eyes are having a hard time focusing in this light. Joel’s eyes move over your features, waiting, restraining, teasing, not daring to push further until you say so.

You reach out to the corded forearm that is tensed and attached to the hand that was holding you gently. Your manicured nails rake up and down his arm in a feathered tickle. You feel his breathing deepen as you press your top teeth into your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna need to,” The pressure from your scratches is getting slightly harder, causing a hum to vibrate in Joel’s throat. “or else everyone will see how pretty you are with this shade of lipstick on your mouth.”

Joel takes the weight of your head and neck in his hands. He holds you both in that position; thick fingers cradling your nape. His tongue traces along his lips and pulls back slightly just so he can take in the heavy-lidded, slack-jawed sight before him.

“Let’em see.” he brings his lips, achingly close to yours, his eyes open, waiting for that last confirmation before he hands over his soul.

In an instant, his lips find yours, setting a slow, strong pace. The trimmed stubble on his upper lip chafes against your soft skin, creating the sweetest friction.

His cologne, mixing with the whisky and the warmth of his skin, takes over your senses as the broad backed man envelops you in his big arms.

Raking your hands through the soft curls at the back of his head, you can help but kitten lick at his bottom lip, craving a taste of that whisky you’ve seen him sip at all evening.

It only takes an instant for Joel’s breathing to deepen and for his tongue to meet yours, you both stifling a moan as you slide deeper and deeper into each other’s mouths.

Your wills, hanging by a thread, allow you a moment of clarity to softly pull away. A noise rumbles within Joel’s chest as you do, his resolve slipping like sand in an hourglass. With heavy eyes he lingers on your messy mouth, his brain unable to think of anything else than what state you’d end up in after his cock passes through your full lips.

With a chuckle, you bring your thumb to his mouth, wiping away the remnants of your lipstick that have transferred to him. “Messy boy.” You mumble, assuming your pupils must be the same size as his. He mirrors the movements on your mouth. The lipstick, blurry and smeared into a faded, pastel red that he hopes stays on him for days.

Joel swipes gently at your hot, swollen lips and chin, trying to clean you up and calm himself down before you leave the table. At one of the passes of his over your mouth, you lick softly at the pad of his finger. Matching your mood, he sinks his teeth into the fleshy part at the base of your thumb and tugs slightly.

“If we don’t leave in the next minute this whole goddamn bar is gonna see how messy I get when I turn your sweet ass the same colour as your mouth.” He licks then kisses where he had bitten you, making your eyes flutter and thighs press together.

The next half an hour was a blur. You both had the mission to get to your apartment as soon as possible, causing you to move with the most efficiency that four drinks would allow you to.

The Uber ride was the longest of your life.

Joel opened the car door and then slid right in behind you. His large, powerful hands placing you into the middle seat and wrapping the seatbelt around you, clicking it into place. He places his warm hand in the inside of your thigh, unable to keep his hands from you, you did the same, your forearm laying across the top of his thigh, nails scratching softly at the denim.

The alcohol has well and truly gone to your head, making every touch and graze feel heady and dreamlike. Joel was struggling. All night he was craving to be closer to you, holding and restraining himself but now that he’d had a taste it was impossible not to touch you. Trying to maintain his stoicism was less like stopping a yawn or sneeze and more like trying to stop a freight train on a windy day.

In the front, your driver is murmuring along to the radio, but all you can hear is the heavy, warm breathing of the man behind you as you allow him to explore your jean-clad thighs.

Pulling, pushing, kneading, it felt like Joel couldn’t get close enough. The roughness of his touch was full of nothing but need and desire.

You can’t make out everything he’s saying, his whisper is strained and raspy. You can make out the words goddamn and jeans; the lucky fabric achieving their purpose once again.

Your hand covers Joel’s, squeezing and pushing at him, encouraging him to keep going. Whatever devil was inside you wanted to push him to his limits in the back of this cab.

Feeling bold, you allow your palm to push at Joel’s high, travelling further and further up his lap before you stop dangerously close to the giant bulge you can see in the low light of the cab. This wasn’t typical behaviour from you, but the solid warmth of the man under you called to your most primitive nerves.

Dropping your head to Joel’s shoulder, you lean into his neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses, tinged with light pink, in your wake. Trying your damnedest to hold strong until you get to the apartment.

The walk through the main doors of your apartment building was full of sideways glances and lip bitten chuckles. To have such desire within hours of meeting someone had never happened to you before. It made your skin tingle, all of your senses heightened.

By the time you reach the elevator, you can hardly recognise the darkness in the eyes peering into yours. Fingers interlaced, firm squeezes shoot straight to your clit; Joel’s rough hands somehow able to be strong but reverent at the same time.

Waiting until the doors close, Joel guides you against the brushed steel bar, which reaches the small of your back, and closes you in. His hands hold onto the bar on either side of your hips.

That nagging, rational part of Joel’s brain was screaming at him. He didn’t want any wires crossed or doubts about his intentions about tonight. Sure, he’d had his fair share of one night stands but not for years and certainly not with someone who he’d felt this level of attraction to.

With his knuckle, he ensures your eyes are on him as he hovers his mouth too close to yours. “I need you to know that I didn’t come on this date expectin’ anythin’and I still don’t…” he bows slightly, his forehead rests against yours, and he exhales with a self-fuffacing chuckle.

“I should be a gentleman. I should walk you to your front door, kiss you, and say goodnight.”

But I don’t know if I can, his brain screams at him.

Unmoving, you both share breath in close proximity. The alcohol in your system is dulled by the rush of adrenaline and hormones that are buzzing around your body.

Your teeth latch on to your bottom lip, Joel immediately catches on to the action but squeezes his lids shut, keeping his caveman brain at bay just barely.

The hotness of Joel’s breath fanning over your face has you fantasising about how it’d feel to have it between your legs. You shuffle slightly, squeezing your thighs together and feeling how wet this evening has made you already.

Staying in the electric silence, your chuckle echoes his own. You mimic his actions, moving your forehead, pressing the knuckle of your forefinger under his chin, encouraging him to lift it so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Joel, I’ve got some good news for ya…” The elevator dings, opening its metal doors at your floor. You let your grasp of his chin fall so you can wriggle free of his hold and lead the way to your apartment. “You might be a gentleman, but I’m not.”

Exiting the elevator slowly, you emphasise the movement of your hips as you lead the way through the carpeted hallway to your door. Joel follows closely, admiring the view with hearts in his eyes. Pausing for the briefest of moments, he exhales fully, palming himself, squeezing to elevate the ache at the base of his cock before catching up to you.

Twisting the key in the lock, you ram the door with your hips once, twice. “C’mon cockblocker” you ram it again, somehow the combination works, gaining you access to your apartment and a sideways glance from Joel which reads ‘we’ll deal with this later’.

With unfathomable accuracy, you throw your keys into the dish by your door and shrug off Joel’s leather jacket, which he kindly lent you, hanging it by the door.

At your back, you feel the Texan man push his hips into your ass. His fingers slide through your belt loops, giving him more purchase and momentum as you lead the way down the hall to your bedroom. His lips kiss softly at your neck, inhaling your scent before exhaling with a rumble. “Can you feel that, darlin’? Feel how fuckin’ hard you make me?” He punctuates with another pump of his hips.

A playful chuckle passes your lips as you turn on your heel so that you are facing him. Bravely, you press your palm firmly against the thickness under his jeans.

A flush starts at the base of your spire and carries up to the tips of your ears, as you feel how hard he is. His eyes flutter close, a deep groan reverberating from his throat as your breathing gets heavier. “Oh fuck, you’re big.” You rush out, that brain-to-mouth filter experiencing technical difficulties.

Joel threads his fingers through your hair, his palm cradling your head, the other grabbing at your full hip. His big brown eyes glimmer in the low light of the room as he scans your full face, stopping at your lips before flicking back up to match your gaze. “I believe in you, sweetheart. I think you can take it.” A sideways smirk, gifted to him by horny demon, swipes across his full lips.

Bringing your lips to his once again, the kiss is feverish, missing all of the earnestness of your first. Joel licks into your mouth deeply, his tongue gliding along yours, your breaths mixing together, making the air balmy.

Almost simultaneously you reach for his belt buckle and he your top button, the soft clink of metal on metal making your pussy clench.

He coaxes you backwards, prodding you to lay down on the bed as you begin working the buttons of your shirt.

Reaching behind himself, he tugs on the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swoop. His body is a wall of soft muscle- not created at a gym but through honest hard work. Freckles speckled down his arms and across his chest- you want to trail a path with your tongue.

“These jeans laced with black magic or somethin? Had me hallucinatin’ from the minute I saw you at that bar.” He peels them down in a see-saw motion. Joel kisses down the roundness of your hips and thighs as they are revealed little by little as he goes one on one with the denim.

Before long, jeans, shirts, and shoes are cast to the outskirts of the room. You lay before him in a blue matching set- the heft of your tits barely confined. Giving them a squeeze, your smaller hands barely cover them, the pillowy flesh spilling over the spaces in between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes go directly to them, a slanted smile sweeping across his face before he lowers his lips to the roundness of your stomach.

Licking, kissing, inhaling the scent that he assumed was your perfume lingers heavy on the plumpness of your soft skin. Travelling lower and lower, Joel settles himself, kneeling on the floor before you, eyes settled on the damp patch spreading on the gusset of your panties.

With forearms hooked under your thighs and hands resting on top Joel yanks you towards him, his beautiful hooked nose laying on the wet fabric as he inhales. “Fuck me.” He whispers into your mound.

Hooking his fingers around the fabric, his eyes flick up to yours for permission. Bumping up onto your forearms for a better view, you smile wickedly, crooking your neck to the side. “Let’s see how messy you can get, pretty.”

Joel all but rips the lace garment, whisking it downwards, past your knees before he hovers his mouth just above your pussy, close enough that his breath tickles against the soft hairs. Tongue first, he places wet kisses on just north of where you want him the most.

Instinctively, your hips raise, eliciting a dark chuckle from him. “Goddamn you’ve got a pretty pussy.” He shifts you so that your legs lay over his shoulders and freeing up his hands to push apart your folds, allowing him to see your swollen clit.

With a flat tongue, Joel licks almost too tenderly at the soft, dewy skin before swooping languidly over and over your bud. “Oh my god.” You moan, willing your hips to stay still and stop being so greedy, allow this man to cook.

“Never been called that before.” he mumbles, bringing the sides of his cheeks together, gathering his saliva in his mouth and then letting it fall to your clit. You were already soaked but Joel needed to see you dripping, messy. You moan, the lewd act making your eyes roll back.

Although being caught up in the desperation you had for each other, Joel needed to take inventory of every twitch, roll, and moan passing through your sweet, soft form. There was no way that he was taking tonight as a solitary event, already craving how you’d moan and whimper for him when you allowed him to fuck you bare.

Gently, he pulled at the apex of your pussy with one hand, pulling at the hood of your clit to unsheath it fully, before circling it with deep, even pressure with his opposite thumb. “You are fucking soaked, sweeheart.” Your breathing gets heavier, you’re unable to open your eyes fully, but you’re not willing to miss a second of this guy at work.

Joel incorporates his mouth, slurping and swallowing as if you were ice cream threatening melt right under him. Threading your fingers through his messy hair you push and pull at his fluffy curls, your heels digging in just at his shoulder blades to encourage him, more.

Feeling him chuckle,he presses into you deeper, his lips and tongue now licking into your pussy which flutters and pulses around his tongue. With each movement of his jaw you feel his beautiful nose bump and swipe across your clit, that familiar buzz at the base of your spine growing stronger and stronger. “Fuck, Joel keep going, it feels so fucking good…”

Hearing his name as a moan on your lips, strokes the most primitive part of him. He needs to be closer, deeper, before he comes in his pants like a teenager.

Somehow finding the strength to peel himself from you, he stands, his cock aching and hard as stone. There’s a clear, darkened patch on his boxers which steals your attention for a second before it moves slowly to his hand squeezing at himself. “I gotta get you ready sweetheart. Gotta be inside you.” He shucks his boxers off himself and pumps his cock in his hand.

Resuming his earlier position, Joel gathers your slick with his middle and ring finger before pushing them in slowly to your weeping pussy.

“Shit”

“Mmmmmfuck”

Groaning in unison, you swear you see Joel’s eyes flutter in the way yours are as you squeeze against his fingers. Joel flexes his digits, sweeping the pad of his thumb across your beautifully swollen clit to tandem with his fingers.

Shifting your hips, you rock yourself on his fingers, allowing your big tits to bounce and ripple in harmony. Opening your eyes, you can see him jerk his heavy, weeping cock at the same pace as he pumps into you, the strong expanse of his forearm tensed with chorded muscle. The view getting you closer and closer by the second.

“Think you can take more? I know your sweet pussy is gonna milk me dry.” Joel stretches his fingers inside of you, licking his lips, his eyes glued to your own.

Never have you had a man talk to you like this during sex. Often, your background music to get off was either the squeak of the bed frame or the buzz of your pocket bff after you were laying, disappointed, in a wet patch in your bed.

“Oh, you like me talking to you, don’t ya? You like it when I tell you how tight your cunt is, hm?” Joel’s upper body is covered in a small sheen of sweat, his fingers somehow able to quicken and maintain the even pressure.

“I’m gonna come, fuck.” Your hips grind harder, movements in tandem with Joel’s allowing your big tits to jiggle and ripple.

A familiar warmth spreads through your pelvis and hips, growing higher and higher flushing to the tips of your ears.

Joel, praying so hard that he doesn’t come, stops jerking himself, instead lowering his body so that he can drink your sweetness from the source. “That’s it. Good girl. Come all over me.” He speaks into your sopping wet pussy. Through thick lashes, he peers over the soft valleys of your stomach and hips, his tongue and fingers not stopping but calming to a slow, steady motion.

Ears still ringing, you prop yourself back on your elbows once more, enjoying the view of the southern man, eyes closed kitten licking at your pulsing hole.

In feeling your muscles flex in movement, his eyes pop open. He pulls his fingers from you, holding them in front of his face and scissoring his first two fingers, examining the silky wetness of your come. Without show or performance he places them in his mouth, past his knuckle in order to finish his meal.

Not wanting to waste another minute without him inside of you, you extend yourself, reaching to the top drawer of your night stand, grabbing a box of condoms and rattling them in his direction.

“I think twelve times might be ambitious but I’ll sure give it a go.” The flirty twinkle in his eye makes you cock your head to the side, giving him an over exaggerated eyeroll. He grabs the package from you, using his teeth to perforate the cellophane and pry open the untouched box.

Pumping his length a few times, Joel scans your entire body; toes, knees, thighs all the way to the undoubtably frizzy fucked curls framing your face. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” It’s not until he finishes the sentence that you look up at his face, meeting his gaze that was waiting for your eyes. He slides the lubed condom over his shaft before joining you, kneeling between your parted thighs on the bed.

Biting your lip, you watch his actions in earnest, allowing his words to settle on your skin. Although never the best at taking compliments, this was not one you wanted to deflect. This beautiful, strong, southern man was looking at you with reverence and you were determined to believe it, if only for tonight.

Lowering himself on one elbow, he reaches your leg with his other arm, hooking it over the sturdy angle of his hips, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sweetly, his lips find yours, having that gentle quality that you shared in the bar. Pulling back only slightly, his eyes peer south, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it up and down the wetness of your slick, tap tap tapping it on your now engorged clit.

On your gasp, his eyes dilate further, unable to keep that goddamn slanted smile off his face.

Only in this moment have you noticed that when he smiles, he does with his whole face. Yes, his lips move but also his cheeks, creating a domino effect on his eyes, crinkled at the side, and the soft raising of his ears. Fuck, he was handsome.

It was your turn to peer down, looking at the way his cock was teasing you. Cheekily, you manoeuvre your hips, making the tip of his cock, notch against your cunt, causing Joel to swallow a moan and for you to smirk. “C’mon pretty, I wanna feel you stretch me with that big dick of yours.” You circle your hips, trying to make him do it again.

Leveraging your leg on his hip to raise your hips higher, he sinks into you, slowly, inch by inch until he is seated fully. Eyes cemented on yours as your smirk turns into a moan.

“Jesus Christ”

“Fuck, Joel”

Joel held still for a moment, the hand that secured your leg over your hip sweeping up and down the expanse of your thigh. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” His lips lower, licking and kissing over your collarbone and neck, the sweetness of your perfume now musky, mixing with your sweat.

As he pumps his hips with long, deep strokes, you thanked the sex gods that he had a pretty face and a pretty dick. His cock was big and thick, stretching you and making you feel beautifully full, fuller than you ever had been.

Working your hips, you moved in parallel with Joel. Pulling your hips back into the mattress when he pushed his pulsing length deep inside, bridging your hips upwards when he retreated. You didn’t want there to be a moment when he wasn’t inside you, moulding your pussy to fit his perfect size.

Joel slants his lips against yours, not waiting to push his tongue deep and long against your own. It wasn’t controlled, it was sloppy and wet, your hand threading through his hair and pulling at the disheveled strands.

The taste of him, mixed with your come and the faint memory of whisky had you rolling your eyes. It was desperate, reckless, kissing someone you barely know like this, like your life depended on it.

Pulling back, he arranges you, one leg still wrapped around his hip and the other raised up, ankle on his broad, freckled shoulders. “This okay?” His eyes, somehow wider, looking for any change in your expression, ensuring you’re comfortable.

You answer with your heels digging into his shoulder and the small of his back, pulling him into you. He feels bigger this way, his cock able to get deeper, on some strokes kissing that detonate button buried deep inside you.

It’s almost as if you forget how to breathe as he gets faster, the hair on his thighs and lower stomach now glistening with your slick as they rub against you.

Joel lifts you higher, allowing him access to grab at your ass, spreading it slightly, making your head spin and pussy flutter. “That’s it. Cmon, baby. I need to feel you come over my cock.”

This feels primal, biological; as if this night, this moment was written in the fabric of your DNA. Meant to happen.

With your eyes rolling back, you give over your body, surrendering to the will and strength of this man. Joel, feeling that he could combust at any moment looks skyward, willing his body to endure this sweetness for longer.

Bringing his thumb to your poor, swollen clit, Joel rubs in quick, deep circles, his pelvis and hips stuttering as he feels his impending orgasm.

“Fuck yes.” You come, eyes rolling, toes curling and pussy squeezing against the heavy cock inside of you. Your eyes snap shut, your jaw clenches as Joel continues to pump in and out of your spent pussy.

“Mmmmmmfuck” you peel yourself from ecstasy long enough to see Joel come. Each beautiful angle and muscle on his body tensing, his eyes scanning over your flushed face, that smile of his appearing again.

Inching towards you, he kisses you sweetly, the curls at the nape of his neck getting curlier by the second. His giant palm rests on your cheek, deepening the kiss slightly, running his thumb over your jaw.

It doesn’t take long for you both to get cleaned up. You grabbing the oversized T-shirt that lay dormant under your pillow and him finding his boxers in the far corner of the room.

A conversation isn’t had about whether Joel should sleepover or not, instead you fall into each other again; kissing, biting, licking, unable to stop but too tired and a little drunk to take it further.

An ungodly vibration on wood wakes you from the best sleep you’ve had in months. Shooting up in bed, you immediately regret your pace, your head tender from the night before.

Scanning your surroundings for a minute, a little seed of disappointment plants itself when you realise you’re alone, no Texan man in sight.

You swipe across the screen, putting your phone on loud speaker before you faceplant back into your pillow.

“Hello?”

”Good morning, princess.” You can hear the sarcasm dripping from your best friend’s voice. “I was gonna call you last night to see how your date went with the contractor but I’m guessing due to my 5 unread texts that it went quite well, hm?”

Stretching your body like a cat in the sun, you grab your phone and lay it on the pillow next to you, feeling like you’re at a sleepover.

“It went well, yeah.” You hear the smile through your voice before you realise it’s there. “He is so fucking hot, got that Mr Darcy stoic thing about him but he is definitely a dark horse.” You turn to lay on your tummy. “Honestly, it got to just about closing time at the bar and I didn’t want it to end. We got back to my place and he went full fucking caveman. And his dick is fucking gian-“

Your soul leaves your body as you hear a hoarse throat clear. Flipping around you see a fully clothed Joel with two cups of coffee hovering at the threshold of your bedroom door. With no notice you hang up the phone, shoving it somewhere in the bed before sitting upright.

“I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t want to subject you to the uncaffeinated version of me too early.” His movements are slow, shy almost as he hands over the cup and perches himself on the side of your bed.

“I thought you pulled an Irish goodbye on me.” You take a long sip, peering over the ceramic as you drink, the sarcasm shield firmly intact.

“And miss seeing your Cookie Monster T-shirt in the daylight? I don’t think so.” He teases, reaching for the hem of your shirt which grazes your mid thigh.

“I had a lot of fun last night.” He rests his giant warm palm on your leg, his brown eyes almost doe like.

“Me too. Think you finally broke my curse of bad dates, pretty.” You set the mug on your nightstand.

Joel flushes at the nickname, immediately taking him back to last night's events. Placing his mug next to yours, he scoots forward, cradling your jaw and placing a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips.

Unable to resist, he deepens the kiss. His big fingers thread through the mess of tangled curls as his breathing becomes heavier.

Pulling away, he keeps your faces close together as he scans your sleepy features. A goofy looking grin works its way across his face as he chuckles softly.

“What?”

He shakes his head softly, the smirk not letting up. “Can I have your number?”

Your head bows slightly, falling to rest on his broad chest as a silent laugh works its way through your shoulders. The sex last night was incredible, not the typical first time timidness so the thought of this man not having your number seems so ridiculous.

Joel presses a kiss into your hair, inhaling that scent that now makes something stir at the base of his spine.

Sunday afternoon rolled in slowly. Joel stayed for a hearty breakfast of cocoa puffs before heading back home, the impression of him lasting through the sweet ache in between your thighs.

Your current boyfriend, the high fairy king, had just slayed the mortal who spoke ill of his mate as a notification pops up on your phone from the Texan himself.

[image attached]

damn, that looks so good

I’m jealous

Last night work you up an appetite?

certainly did

it is good

but it’s got nothing on what I ate last night

The smile on your face had your cheeks hurting. Last night was not a normal first date. The level of attraction and passion you’d felt was nothing you’d ever experienced.

Rolling your head to rest on the top of your couch, you can’t imagine any date going better than your one with Joel. It makes you anxious but in a way where it feels like butterflies in your stomach.

Before you can reply to Joel your phone pings again, but this time the message from your best friend.

Okay gentleman Joel might’ve been good but just wait for first date number two before you make up your mind.

This is Javier. 🙂‍↕️😮‍💨😚😋🫠

Clearing your throat you look at the image of date number two.

Think I should give him a shot.

For science. 🙂‍↕️🤓

npt/ tag list 🏷️ @gothcsz @chasingthepoguelife @mandaloriankait @probablyreadinsmut @half-moon16 @brittmb115 @noisynightmarepoetry @maried01 @witchy-and-persnickity @drunk-and-capable @angiewatson @toshatoshalopez @qutequeersstuff @indiegirlunited @jolalibrary @sheepdogchick @regularjoel @iknowisoundcrazy

[ik33ponmakingc00ki3s]

"I think my frontal lobe just developed bro"

(I got flashed for searching up skirts so I chose flowers instead)

Genshin Chars reaction to you wearing a pencil skirt

They've been having these feelings for awhile now and you wearing the skirt just gave them a boost

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Al Haitham, Childe, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli x GN! reader (not separated)

Genre: Romcom, fluff-ish

Warnings: Mentions of Abortion on Aether's part, Mentions of Suicide on Childe's part (This is not angst I swear)

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

(A/n): Fuckass app bro (It's my fault tbh). Yesterday I had to rewrite everyone's parts half-based on the screen record as Diluc's part was pasted at the word counter website. So thank God.

I got sleepy, didn't notice I posted my draft so I panicked, and deleted it. So here's a rewritten version of it and I hope it's better, I just add in the scenarios that I can remember. And I'm sorry if some chars are ooc--

New: Gave this chapter a few minor updates!

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

Part 1 ❀˖ °

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

Header made by me <3

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

Aether✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The twin that's 5 seconds younger than Lumine. Charming, Sporty, and helpful towards people (Especially to you)

Lumine groaned as she couldn't HANDLE any more shit from the 'could've been aborted twin' because he couldn't stop talking about you for days now. The way how you talk, your style, your laugh--OH when you laughed at his joke one time too! Lumine hissed and slammed the door against his face. "She deserves someone way more funnier!" leaving a sulking Aether as he prepared for school.

Ever since you walked through the door, he choked on his drink as 2/5 people that cared to check on him gave him a questioning look and faced towards the location he was looking seconds ago. Wiping his mess, he looked up to see some of them staring at him because you walking around a pencil skirt made him act like that.

You sure do have some cake in there huh, should've worn that pencil skirt since the first day so they got something to look forward to and attend school everyday---WHAT WHO SAID THAT???

That aside, Venti and Heizou were gonna have a field day about this as they teased the fuck out of Aether, and Lord he was BEGGING them internally to stop because you were just 2 seats in front of him, Talking with Mona and Ganyu about how nervous you feel for your defense against your research. He was frantic, nervous, ashamed even, "Guys please don't risk it.." He sighed nervously, fingers tapping, eyes switching towards them and you, hoping you hear none of their BS.

"Hey Aether! could we borrow your stapler real quic- oh! thanks" Your voice snapped him out of his state as his now buttery fingers searched for his stapler on his desk and gave it to you quick--almost dropping it in the process when your fingers lightly touched his, pressing his lips in a straight line while his skin warmed up. Sitting up properly, he saw Venti and Heizou look at him like he eats burgers with a spoon and fork.

"What-"

"Dude, you just straight up gave them your stapler without answering them"

Aether froze, he didn't realize that. He was so caught up in his own situation that he didn't bother answering you, and that made him melt out of embarrassment, he hoped that you didn't mind that behavior from him as he crossed his arms on the table and laid his head on top. Groaning at the heat as Heizou and Kazuha were lightly laughing at him from the side while Venti kept on smooching and teasing tf out of him.

"Guys can you just fucking practice? We're doing defense today"

Scara groaned, he was annoyed by just witnessing all this with Childe yapping besides his ear. Aether thanked him silently as he lifted his head up and stole glances from you from time to time, calming himself down as you chat away with your groupmates with your legs crossed as he looked away. He and his group were aware of his feelings towards you, and he knows that his best friends were into you too.

That's why he's gonna beg Lumine for some info from you since you guys are hella close, he has to know your favorite food, color, or your favorite sanrio character and he hopes that its the popular ones like cinnamoroll or pompompuri instead of the ones with long ass names like Fuwafuwanyankomitai- fucking whatever.

He'll be sure to do it--no he will do it because he knows that there are other great people outside his group that are interested in you too and he'll do his best as he can.

Albedo✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your Golden boy who's your Class crush, Class president AND who's ALSO your group leader He def didn't stay behind class to convince your teacher to switch groups and make him the leader

With Albedo on your side, he can give your group a free pass to success, He was literally chosen to be a part of the Top 5 students to join but declined it because it would hinder his studies and that the school would just use him for bragging rights.

Your group is so lucky to have him or else your performance would've been in ruins with the panelists getting up on your asses with the smallest of mistakes. The other groups were having high hopes of him being in their group, but thank God he switched, because he knows that they'll rely on him too much and dump the difficult parts on him.

And so he enjoyed his limited time with you and did his best to give this group a stable backbone, making sure that they know what they're doing as he helped them in their parts when they asked for it.

Oh especially with you, he likes helping you a lottttt.

Eager was he as he sat besides you one time, he was so glad that the "teacher grouped him up" with you-- asking if you needed help, and before you could say no, he had your favorite drink and placed it in front of you. And before you could answer again, he beat you to it, "I was wondering if you tried this one actually, it's getting popular these days..." What a fucking liar, he saw you order this drink 3 times when he was studying at a cafe during his free time. You just didn't notice him as much like he does to you.

You wore a pencil skirt when you went to a group meeting one time and he couldn't almost concentrate, and now that you're wearing it again with a different style, he got a bit distracted as he unintentionally complimented you before and after the defense.

"You dress yourself like how Pierre Auguste Cot paints his muses" and "People keep leaving fashion shows because you weren't there to perform"

You were too stunned to speak as he gave you a small smile, even if you didn't know who Pierre is, even if you hated modeling, he would still see you as an icon--a muse, in his view. With your quiet state, he then realized that he complimented you 2 times in one day, clenching his jaw but kept the same face. He just hoped that you aren't weirded out by him with all the things he's doing, but oh he has to you know. He has to be 5 steps ahead of everyone, and always have to be 5 steps ahead of everything. That's his way to receiving such high achievements and go way beyond people's expectations.

So he's not letting this go so easily, no, he's moving mountains just to get closer to you and bloom to something more. He knows how to play with your buttons as he felt piercing stares behind his back, they're watching and they're mad, but what can they do? He always has to be ahead of them and that's what riled the tension more. So after checking the attendance three times, he called you again with a gentle smile, holding himself back from wanting to touch your hair and put them behind your ear, corny but cute.

"You did very well in the performance, I think you even pleased the panelists too. Now, I'd like to ask you, if we ever get to collaborate again, can it be in a restaurant next time?"

Al-haitham✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

One of the Top 5 students who put their school's name to championship but he's such an ass. Not with you tho, he's "trying" to upgrade the relationship between the two of you but is just a pussy too busy for it

Walking around the hallways, Al-Haitham and Kaveh were having their usual morning routine, coffee at 7:30 am and sticking up rocks in each other's asses. He just came from the championship days ago and took another few days break before heading back to school again "Hey Haitham look, 2 o'clock in front." Kaveh whispered as he looked up.

It was you, wearing a black pencil skirt with the length stretching down above your knees with a medium slit in the side, along black stockings and heels. Fixing your papers and signing attendances with Ganyu. God damn, even if you two don't meet as "much" he can't help but feel shameful for having feelings like these towards you. "Hey man, you've been staring for a while now, something in your mind?"

He angrily looked away and saw that Cyno was waving his hand in front of his view, his voice increased at the 'staring' part as it grabbed a few student's attention walking by. Thinking he was a pervert checking out on people.

"What the fuck do you want" He hissed as Cyno raised both his hands (Absolute Cinema) "Look-- I know you wanna bag them so bad, but atleast do something about it, other students from different classes are making their move while you're here staring" He wasn't lying, he felt like he was just a floater friend to you, talked a few times, bump into each other from hectic schedules, share small greetings whenever you meet.

Simple and casual stuff you know, you guys were grouped a few times, attending group meetings to having hangouts, going to small parties from other friends, to you begging him to play Online TCG and chatting on discord till 2 am, evolving to buying each other snacks when the other didn't eat.

Yeahhhhh floater friend.

"I'll think about it." He wanted to make a move too but he thinks that you aren't that interested in him. He himself is stubborn, especially in situations like this, convincing himself that everything's neutral. Even if his friends push him to go for it, he doesn't want to ruin the "small" friendly relationship you both had.

Sooo for now, he's just gonna lay-low and test the water before dipping in. Eyeing your ass view before heading to his own class.

"Think quick and hard soldier, OR I can help you set up with them. Yk, spy on some friends of mine to get info about you." Cyno offered to him as Al-haitham huffed.

"I can do it myself, but if there's no choice then I'll let it be--"

"Booooooo this is why you don't get bitches, you don't fight for them." With the sullen tone Kaveh had, Cyno snorted as Nari came up. His long fluffy ears twitching as he sniffed into the not so new topic of his circle.

"Hm, still having trouble with that special person you're afraid of confessing to Haitham?"

"I'm not planning to."

"And why's that? Afraid of getting rejected because you didn't want to ruin the only connection you have with them?"

He paused, thinking for a bit and before he could answer, the professor came in as everyone settled to their seats.

He let a frustrated sigh and thought, fuck it, it's either he keeps it in or take the risk of becoming more than just a "floater" friend to you, and if it works out, he can see more of you wearing pencil skirts till both of you reach your 40s, he doesn't mind that.

So there he sits in his own thoughts, contemplating what his friends said, and you wearing that skirt-- I mean making the first move towards you before it's too late.

Childe✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

• The transfer student that got a "bit" distracted when you wore a pencil skirt that he fumbled his performance but made up for it

As Childe was typing away, finalizing the powerpoint as he saw a figure walk in the classroom. He glanced up for a bit then back--wait. He did a double look and saw that the baddie wearing the corporate uniform was actually you! The one who he admires oh so much!

"Какое зрелище..."

(What a sight to see...)

He breathed in and out as he went back to his work, Albedo put him in charge for finalizing the small errors present in each slide as he stared for the screen for awhile, looking at you, then back at the screen, than looked up to you, then back, then to you, then back, then you-- ok he wasn't even typing anymore as he was just looking up and down.

He hoped no one noticed as he snapped back to work and tried to finish it at best as he didn't attend a group meeting once because of family matters. Wanting to gush about you to Scara, asking him if he saw you, then get back to his notes. He faced his direction while Scara was trying to focus on his paper, leaning besides him as Childe ruined his focus and filled it about you. And yikes, he swore that Scara was about to punch him in the face but cussed at him and his groupmates instead.

Childe was used to it but sulked back to his seat and read his notes as the Professor and a few panelists came in the room, telling everyone to prepare for their defense.

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

When it was his turn to present the next slide, his heart dropped, 3 words glued together was shown at the screen, an obvious typo in the presentation as some of his classmates stifled a laugh. "Shelooksgood" was written in the PowerPoint as Albedo sighed while some of your groupmates were getting nervous.

He panicked as he apologized for the mistake he made, along came Albedo who partly took the blame as the both of them didn't want their group to have deducted points. Enough to sway some panelists and let it off the hook, now he pretended that this never happened and locked-in with his presentation instead, ignoring his heart beating quick and mouth going dry.

Thank God he didn't put your name in there or else he'd shoot himself out of embarrassment, because changing his name, face, and identity would NOT save him from all of this.

So when he finished his part, he went back to his spot--hoping that it's enough to not deduct them or atleast give him minus points on his individual score instead. The professor gave a small nod of approval and so Childe glanced your way as you gave him a small smile, a 'Good job' expression that made his heart flutter.

He's definitely gonna talk about you to his family after this to get some advice from Mom and Pa on how to court someone who lured him in so fast.

Childe spaced out for a bit and snapped back when he heard your voice, calmly presenting but nervous inside, just like how he did his performance awhile ago. He wasn't trying to be weird or anything...he's just projecting his support for you imaginarily, hoping that you'd feel lighter and that the support you feel was coming from him. Till Mona lightly jabbed his side and whispered, "Stop staring at her, the red-headed panelist's observing us."

He looked at her then at the red-head, ah Diluc, since when did he become the student panelist? Anyways, Childe lightly scoffed then slowly fixed his posture creating small tension between him and Diluc as they had a small stare-off, only for a few seconds as your view came in between them with no care as you were answering the Professor's questions. Not knowing you unintentionally stopped something sinister brewing.

He let himself relax and just watched you, waiting for class to end to call his parents ASAP, he wants to get the cookie so bad frfr.

Diluc✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The student panelist who was harsh on other research group members but not you. He did a pretty good job with it too actually--Did I mention that he volunteered for it because he wanted to see you?

It's not a surprise that one of Ragnvindr's son would be at the top 5 students who'd bring home a certificate and trophy, along with making his father proud. Diluc didn't want to ruin anyone's expectation as he's carrying his father's last name. Hardworking and well-liked around the campus and office, so when his father asked if he wanted to be part of being a research panelist, he hesitated, thinking of wanting to back-out as his assignments and deadlines were piling up.

"One of your friends are in this class--don't worry about your grades falling off, they give credit for it as long as you reach their standards for paneling. They need students like you son, you're fit for it!"

His father said as he gave him the list of students with their assigned classroom, his eyes scanning names from the alphabetically ordered list, then stopped, '(L/n)', ah you're there. This could be his chance to get close to you as he immediately agreed to volunteer, receiving a pat on the back by his father.

-----------

Now he's sitting in your classroom, facing you and your group as he paid attention to the performance. He listened close, he listened well, and he also stared down at you for a full 30 seconds when you were telling your part and looked down at the paper, counting how many seconds then back to you, amazed by your style as he didn't notice that the panelist besides him was calling for him.

"Sir Diluc? It's your turn to ask them, do you have any questions?"

Ah, he didn't notice that he was distracted as he cleared his throat, "I don't have any questions about the paper but, I'd like to ask why did none of your groupmates help out on finalizing the PowerPoint?"

He asked, not amused as The ginger and the blonde took the blame and apologized, hoping that a small mistake wouldn't affect their scores. He'll let it pass. For now.

During the small incident, he knows that Childe was talking about you.

So he just nodded and let it be, seeing your face relieved as he let out a small smile before getting stoic. Noticing that a certain ginger was staring at him too.

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

After class, he denies all the complaints from his friends (who was in the same class as you) as he was being unfair towards them. But all he said was

"I just simply stated facts because that group followed what they were told to do, their title doesn't sound complicated, they followed the aide memoir, their objectives were clear, they didn't copy paste their research and winged it, they didn't forget to put their references, AND they defended their research with good points, now tell me, what is wrong with me giving a bit of praise for a group that did their best? Aside from that small occurrence with one of their groupmates..." Diluc knows damn well what he said was basic to most research groups, except for the copy pasting, reference, and defense part, he called those out in other groups that failed to reach their objectives. He's definitely biased towards you but can't admit it out loud.

Aside from that, The 3 second stare off with Childe awhile ago was a threat to him, he saw how Childe was looking at you, how Albedo complimented you at the start and end of the defense, how the other students were whispering about your outfit behind him-- You pulled yourself a lot of admirers huh?

That won't do, he was getting eager to talk to you, so he mustered up the courage and sent a simple compliment and swiftly went out the classroom, leaving you confused as Albedo called you in. Ignoring all the looks from other people, heading to his father's office with his ears all red.

What's with the rush?

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

A/n: Hey Ho! IM SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER BRO and I overdid Childe, Haitham, and Diluc's part, it's supposed to just be 610-615 words each but nah, I squeezed what I can think off with the others and even thought of removing Al-Haitham too, but nahhh. IM SO MAD AT HOW IT TOOK ME DAYS TO WRITE THIS LIKE??? HUH??😭😭💔

[felassan]

Game Informer:

"Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show by Alex Van Aken on Jun 27, 2024 at 01:57 PM In this week's episode of The Game Informer Show, the crew discusses our recent trip to Bioware for our Dragon Age: The Veilguard cover story, our Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree review, PS5-bound multiplayer shooter, Concord, a new battle royale from former League of Legends developers, atmospheric horror title Still Wakes the Deep, Dustborn, Luigi's Mansion 2 HD and even more! It's a packed show, y'all.  Watch the Video Version: [embedded link to Game Informer video titled 'Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show']"

(On YouTube, the description box for this video looked like this:)

[Article continues] "Follow us on social media: Alex Van Aken (@itsVanAken), Kyle Hilliard (@KyleMHilliard), Marcus Stewart (@MarcusStewart7), Wesley LeBlanc (@LeBlancWes) The Game Informer Show is a weekly gaming podcast covering the latest video game news, industry topics, exclusive reveals, and reviews. Join us every Thursday to chat about your favorite games – past and present – with Game Informer staff, developers, and special guests from around the industry. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast app. Matt Storm, the freelance audio editor for The Game Informer Show, edited this episode. Matt is an experienced podcast host and producer who's been speaking into a microphone for over a decade. You should listen to Matt's shows like the "Fun" And Games Podcast and Reignite, a BioWare-focused podcast."

"The Game Informer Show – Podcast Timestamps: 00:00:00 - Intro 00:02:42 - Cover Story: Dragon Age: The Veilguard 00:21:48 - Elden Ring Shadow of the Erdtree Review 00:42:20 - Concord Preview 00:59:04 - Supervive Preview 01:11:59 - The Plucky Squire 01:24:37 - Magic: The Gathering – Assassin's Creed 01:35:01 - Still Wakes the Deep 01:45:52 - Dustborn Preview 01:55:06 - Luigi's Mansion 2 HD Review 01:58:26 - Housekeeping"

"The GI Show podcast is a weekly recap of exciting releases, exclusive details on upcoming games, and in-depth interviews with developers. Watch or listen to a new episode every Thursday!"

[source]

----

Felassan's notes section of this post -

In this episode of the Game Informer show, Game Informer talk some more about their trip to BioWare's studio for the DA:TV cover story, when BioWare showed them hours of DA:TV content while playing it live.

Some notes from this and from what they said:

Wesley LeBlanc wasn't a huge DA fan and he went in with no expectations. The job to go to BW for this just landed on his plate due to other peoples' schedules. After seeing the game, it's probably his most anticipated game for the rest of the year and the one he's most looking forwards to

The game really wowed him and stuck with him, he said he is thrilled about it and is engrossed in the fantasy it's bringing

The visuals and world finally feel like what BioWare has maybe always wanted to make

This is the game where the team said, yeah, we feel fully in command of the Frostbite engine, and it shows

The world is more like Fable-type whimsy than prior DA games. It has a high fantasy feel

BW want new people to play the game. They're very aware that it's been 10 years since the last game and the game does a good job of catching people up

Rook as the PC really has no idea what's going on with Solas and all the other lore-specific stuff that's happening in the game, so they kind of act as the stand-in for newer players or people who have not caught up on the lore

But it's not just a game for newcomers, there is still a lot to chew on in the game for hardcore DA fans. BioWare were saying that they know their community, what it wants and what it's looking for out of these characters

Wesley enjoyed the music, visual design, and voice acting

Nothing that they saw about the game stood out as worrisome to him

Wesley has quite a lot of further stories to add to Game Informer's DA:TV hub

Wesley: "On the topic of the [Dragon Age] fanbase, I just wanna give a shoutout to that community, because, wow, I did not, I knew people would be stoked about this cover, but people are really stoked about this cover. And it’s really funny, the day that we announced it, I got like hundreds of new followers. Anytime, if I tweet about Erdtree or Destiny 2, I get like my normal amount of likes, like, a dozen maybe, y’know, whatever. If I tweet about Dragon Age, it’s like. Today I tweeted, ‘my next feature is coming at 3pm’ and it’s at 1000 likes, it’s so funny, like, this community is like rabid for information, which makes sense if you haven’t gotten a game in 10 years. But yeah, so like, shoutout to y’all, I’m loving you guys reading the articles and telling me what you wanna hear about. So if you have any questions or anything, get at me on Twitter for sure, and I will see what I can cook up with some writing for you. But yeah, shoutout to the BioWare community, y’all crazy.”

[source]

[itsuki-minamy]

"K - LOST SMALL WORLD" (Novel)

PERIOD 1: 12 YEARS OLD (MISSION 1)

Translation: Naru-kun Chapter guide: HERE

The mop handle held the rag core in place perfectly. The damp rag was just the right weight and formed a layer that passed through the classroom door and stuck to the hallway window.

"Yessss! The fourth batter, pitcher Yata, hits the ball through the gap between third base and shortstop, down the left field line..."

Yata loudly commented on the situation and raised the mop in his hand.

"Hit!"

In the quiet atmosphere of the classroom, only his excited voice emerged, and with a smile still on his face, he quietly put down the mop. The classmates who had been watching with cold expressions began to look away, lowering their eyes to their PDAs or returning to chatting with their friends.

"What? That's not very friendly."

Yata was breathing heavily as he carried the mop over his shoulders.

"Team Yata, play defense. If there are four of us, we can make a triangular base."

He called out to three boys who were gathered at a desk looking at their respective PDAs. The three looked at each other, shrugged, and then turned to him.

"What's a triangular base?"

It was a response that was hard to believe.

"Don't you know what a triangular base is?! What the hell have you been doing while growing up to the first year of middle school?!"

"What are you asking me to do?"

"Isn't Yata-kun the one who's the least developed...?"

One of them whispered, while the other two burst into laughter.

"Did you say something?"

He yelled, and the three quickly stopped laughing.

"Well, I guess I'll give you a lecture, so listen up. Remember, a triangle base is when the defensive team is the pitcher and two basemen, which is why it's called a triangle..."

As he explained, they heard a message ding, and the three of them said "Ah!" in unison and looked down at their respective PDAs.

Yata felt very sad because his plans kept getting ruined.

"It's the "Jungle" email newsletter."

He walked over to his friends, who were holding their PDAs and talking cheerfully, and snatched the PDA out of one of their hands.

"What the heck is this email newsletter about?"

"Oh, Yata-kun, don't touch it with the hands you used to touch the rag."

"Don't be so picky, you're not a woman."

As his friend tried to retrieve his PDA, Yata roughly shoved him with the mop. The screen showed him an app he'd never seen before.

"What's this?"

"Yata-kun, do you know "Jungle"? Everyone plays it these days. There are a ton of different games, and the tricks are great."

"The design is great, too."

"I don't really get it. I mean, is it a game?"

"It's not just for games. You can also send group messages, which is really handy."

"Ah."

They were just starting a lively conversation when suddenly one of them raised his voice and made a "shhhh" gesture with his index finger. The other two looked as if they had just realized something and began muttering to themselves as they continued.

Shaking his head, Yata took his PDA out of his pocket.

"Hmm? Then I guess I'll join in too."

Since PDAs are designated by the school, they are all the same model, but students, especially the girls, decorate them with their own cases and straps. Yata was one of those who used "no straps". In addition to the usual call and internet functions, it is equipped with a contactless IC card function and can also serve as a student ID card.

"What was it, "Jungle"?"

It was just as he started working on his PDA.

Loud, harsh footsteps were heard from the door at the back of the classroom.

"Yata Misaki! And his gang!"

He yelled at him.

"Don't call me by my full name."

Almost reflexively, Yata barked and turned around.

"Everyone, come to the guidance room.", the homeroom teacher ordered in a gruff voice as he appeared.

"Huh? What did we do? Look..."

He began rebelliously, but seeing the expressions on his classmates' faces, Yata blinked.

All three of them were pale and frozen.

++++++++++

They were made to stand in a row of four in front of a long desk in the student guidance office. The answer sheets for the proficiency exam he took the other day were spread out on the desk. The sound his teacher made sarcastically tapping them with his fingertips was irritating to Yata's ears, and it made him feel increasingly irritated.

"Well, I'm telling you, how could we have cheated? And do you have proof?"

"There are several questions with the same answer. Even the mistakes are the same. Here and here too."

"It's a coincidence, right? How could we possibly have the same answer? Our seats are all different, so there's no way we can directly show each other the answers, and I don't think we're allowed to use PDAs during the test."

Yata was the only one arguing, and when he looked at his friends standing in a row to his left, all three of them looked completely depressed and had their heads hung low. (Oh no, they did it...) He already knew.

Yata felt a little sharp, thinking that if they didn't have the courage to deny it when they were caught, then they shouldn't have done it in the first place.

However, the teacher's gaze was directed at Yata with particular hatred.

"Yata, weren't you the one who made them do it?"

"Eh?!"

His voice cracked at the unexpected suspicion.

"Why do you think that? It doesn't make sense..."

"As for you, this is certainly the result."

The teacher carelessly rejected Yata's exam, which had a very disappointing score compared to the other three. He wasn't bragging, but that's not a score you can get by cheating.

"But you know why they called you in with them, right? Last month, you invited these three to sneak out of school during class, saying it was a test of courage. You were probably the one who made them do it this time too."

"Well, I was the one who invited them last month..."

"Tell me the truth. This isn't a normal test, so I'll keep this between us. But if you don't tell me the truth, I'll have to ask your parents to come."

His threatening tone caused the shoulders of his friends standing next to him to shudder.

One of them gulped.

"Y-Yata-kun told me to do it..."

"R-right, Yata-kun said so and made me use the cheat sheet, but he was the only one who didn't..."

"What...? You...!"

He instinctively raised his fist, causing the three of them to flinch. All three of them began to sob.

Yata had no choice but to lower his fist.

There's nothing he can do about it, really... He just remembered that's what happens when they do whatever they want when he's not around. If you can't wipe your own ass, then don't be a troublemaker.

"Ah, that's right. I snuck into the teacher's lounge and looked up the answers. Then I told them, but on the day of the exam, I was the only one who forgot my cheat sheet."

The three of them looked up, their eyes red and round.

Yata sighed and made a decision. It would be annoying to have to apologize to the teacher, but as the leader of the Yata group, it would be unmanly to abandon the comrades who clung to him.

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

He bowed his head to the teacher so hard that the teacher flinched.

++++++++++

"Thanks to Yata-kun, I was truly saved because my parents weren't contacted."

"All right. Listen, if you want to deny it, deny it and be proud of it. If you want to admit it, admit it and apologize enthusiastically. Well, this time there's no getting around it, it's over. Next time, don't do things on your own; if you want to do something, consult me ​​first. I'll make it work for you."

"Yes. Thank you."

He still looked dejected, so the three of them laughed weakly.

Although they received some scoldings afterward, because it wasn't a normal exam, they didn't take anything seriously and were released. Of course, if something like this is discovered again, it's inevitable that their parents will be contacted. Looking around the class, it seems that most of the students are relatively well-behaved, so the parents would probably never imagine their children would cheat.

"Well, I'll take my bike. See you tomorrow."

He had planned to take everyone to Shizume after school that day, but he was sure the teacher would be watching them closely, so it would probably be best to reschedule.

After parting ways with his friends who were returning home on the school bus from the main gate, Yata headed alone to the side gate. That's because he parked his bike there, but there's no bike parking area. Riding a bike to school is prohibited because it's considered dangerous.

"Damn, this is why this middle school is so boring..."

It had been a month since he enrolled at Hinata Middle School, but to be honest, he felt like he didn't fit in. There are many restrictive school rules, such as prohibiting riding bikes to school and buying snacks on the way home from school.

The uniform, with its rather pretentious design of a dark red blazer and bow tie, was uncomfortable, so Yata rolled up his sleeves and wore it casually.

None of the friends he hung out with in elementary school were at this middle school. He had moved here during spring break due to his parents' work commitments. Although Yata missed his old school, he remained positive and thought it wasn't all bad. He was back near the town where he'd lived as a child, even before his previous school. Shizume is a town that holds many memories for Yata.

He pulled his bike out of the bushes by the gate. It's a worn-out mamachari (a women's bike) that his mother had given him, so it's not something he really wanted his friends to see. He wished he could get a part-time job and buy a good cyclocross bike, but of course, part-time jobs are prohibited for middle school students, and he'd already spent all his New Year's money, so he didn't want to ask for a raise in his allowance.

"I wonder if even a friend with a lot of money could do that?"

Muttering such absurd things to himself, he threw his crushed school bag into the basket, carefully removed the leaves that had accumulated on the saddle, and said, "Ready." as he easily climbed on top.

Hinata Middle School is located in the city, so the front door opens onto a busy main street, but the side door opens onto the shrine behind the school. For some reason, this area, including Shizume, has an unusually large number of Inari temples and shrines. Suddenly, in the middle of the city, a torii gate appears, with no clear idea of ​​what it enshrines, and a dense forest continues in the distance.

It's a quiet street nestled between the towering wall surrounding the school grounds and the shrine's forest. It feels like the border between the human world and the divine world, and is enveloped in a mysterious, green-scented atmosphere. Students riding the bus might not even know there's a street like that behind the school.

"Oh, is this it?"

He quickly found the app he was looking for. Once the installation was complete, a new icon called "Jungle/B" appeared on the screen. The icon evokes the image of twisted, crowded trees, just as the name "Jungle" suggests.

"I see, then a cute icon would be nice. They said the design is great too. Come to think of it, how did those guys manage to cheat?"

The most likely scenario would be that the answers would be given via email, but student phone numbers are managed by the school and are blocked during class so they can only be used for emergency calls. Although he managed to survive his teacher's interrogation, the fundamental questions remained unanswered.

"Well, I guess I'll ask tomorrow. Huh? Do I have to register as a user first?"

While using the new app and feeling a little unsteady while driving with one hand, he overheard a disturbing conversation.

"This guy has a 10,000 yen bill. He's only a freshman, though."

"The rumor that your family is rich is true."

"Well, we're all in the same boat when we have problems, aren't we? This month my bills have exceeded my allowance."

Yata looked up from his PDA. He has a good ear for that kind of talk. Reporting, extorting, bullying...

Looking ahead along the wall, he saw four boys wearing Hinata Middle School uniforms. Three of them formed a semicircle and pressed the remaining person against the wall.

"Hm? That guy..."

Yata squinted at the faces of the students surrounding him. He couldn't see well because he was holding his face in his hands and looking down, but the moment he saw his pale face and black-framed glasses, he shouted without hesitation.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

The three of them turned around. One of them was about to take a note out of his wallet. For a moment, the three seemed ready to flee, but as soon as they saw Yata standing with his arms crossed next to the old mamachari bicycle, they regained their composure.

"What's wrong, shorty? How old are you?"

"Don't call me shorty."

"This is Yata, a first-year student. Yata Misaki. He's a kid who stands out because he barks a lot."

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and forgive you, but don't call me by my full name."

They were third-year students, probably from some kind of sports club. All three are much larger than Yata. Judging by their appearance alone, they didn't seem like the kind of bad guys who would mug someone. Unlike Yata, they didn't rebel against school rules by wearing their uniform sloppily or growing their hair long. As a student who takes their club activities seriously, they probably wouldn't attract the teachers' attention. He felt a sickening feeling that these ordinary people were doing things like that behind the scenes at that middle school.

"Give him back his wallet."

In an attempt to look a little bigger, Yata shrugged his shoulders as he approached, nodding at the bespectacled man in the background. It was frustrating that, due to their height difference, he had to look up to see the three of them.

"A wallet? If you want a wallet, I'll give it back to you."

The three looked at each other, laughed, and tossed the empty wallet to the bespectacled boy. It wasn't a Velcro type like Yata's, but a genuine leather one that looked quite expensive even just for the wallet itself.

"It's not just the wallet! Give him back the money!"

The wallet fell to the ground with a thud, and Yata, who was about to scream, was so startled that he stopped talking.

"I will."

The bespectacled boy said, without even looking at the wallet that had fallen from his shoulder. His voice was faint and mumbled.

"What? I can't hear you."

The third-years asked again in an intimidating manner.

"I'll give you my money and my wallet. I never want to touch anything you've ever touched again."

He said this and shook his shoulder as if it had dirt on it. On top of that, he kicked his wallet toward the third-year students and said,

"Take it. There are still some coins left, so crawl and search for some, there you go."

Even Yata, who went to help, was surprised by his attitude. The third-year students' faces turned red with anger. The bespectacled boy picked up his fallen school bag and began walking along the wall without even looking at the third-year students.

"Whoa! Wait a minute! Are you making fun of me?"

The third-year students suddenly raised their voices as if startled and grabbed the bespectacled boy by the back of his hair.

"Don't touch me!"

The bespectacled boy shouted in a deafening voice and headbutted the third-year student who had grabbed him by the hair. A painful crash was heard, and the man fell backward, clutching his face.

"What the hell is this guy doing all of a sudden?!"

The other two men flew into a rage and grabbed him.

"Fushimi!"

Yata immediately screamed and jumped at the nearest person. He jumped on his back, wrapped his legs around his body, and put both hands around his head to blindfold him, but he shook his head and said, "Let go of me, you little brat!"

Sensing another guy approaching from the side, he kicked him in the back and quickly broke free. He did a beautiful backflip and jumped to the ground.

"Hehe, as if you could catch me."

He snorted, but in the meantime, the bespectacled boy had been grabbed by his arm.

It was obviously a disadvantage to be three against one against the physically superior third-year students on the sports team. Clicking his tongue, Yata quickly operated his PDA with one hand. The bus probably hadn't left yet.

"Yata group, gather around..."

He noticed an unfamiliar notification on the screen.

At first glance, the word [Yata-kun] caught his attention.

[Isn't that annoying?]

"Huh? What's this?"

He frowned and did a double take as a shadow fell in front of him.

"Don't look away."

He was hit in the side of the face and sent flying.

"I'm telling you, you guys were the first to act. It was self-defense, so there's no point in telling the teacher."

"Don't ever face me again, you stupid first-year."

The third-year students jeered at the two as they fell to the ground, then quickly picked up their money and wallets. The guy who took Fushimi's headbutt stuffed a handkerchief up his nose and, in retaliation, kicked Fushimi in the shoulder again and spat on him.

"Damn it, what do you mean, self-defense?"

Frustrated, Yata slammed his fist against the ground. Gritting his teeth made the wounds in his mouth hurt even more.

When he turned to look at Fushimi, he had taken off his glasses, which were splattered with spit, and rubbed them against the dirt at the side of the road. His face was pale, and the red bruises on them looked painful.

"Are you okay, Fushimi?"

Fushimi adjusted his glasses, which were probably even more cloudy due to the dirt stains, and stared at him.

"Hmm? You're Fushimi Saruhiko, right? Did I read that wrong?"

"How do you know?"

An aura of anger seemed to rise from his thin shoulders. Yata was frightened, wondering why he got that reaction just by calling his name.

"Why? We're in the same class, right? I'm Yata. I'm in the same row as you."

It had been over a month since the entrance ceremony, but it seemed they didn't even remember his face. There are plans to change the seating arrangement in the second semester, but during the first semester, classroom seating is based on the attendance list. Yata's seat is fifth from the front, in the row closest to the aisle. Fushimi's seat is second from the front in the same row.

"It seems this isn't the first time those guys have bothered you. Do they always steal your money? Don't your parents know? They'd be angry if they found out, since it seems it was a considerable amount. If it happens again, tell me. I'll help you. Well, I lost today, but I have friends here."

"Hmmm.", Fushimi snorted.

"If you want to be thanked, go somewhere else."

While Yata was speechless at that unexpected comment, Fushimi easily brushed the dirt off his uniform and bag and began walking home. Although he didn't even touch the wallet the third years had stolen, he didn't seem to pay much attention to the dirt stains he wiped off, so Yata didn't really understand what was different.

Up until that point, he'd exchanged words with most of his classmates at least once, but now that he thought about it, that was the first time he'd ever spoken to Fushimi. He had no idea he spoke so rudely. The impression was as if every sound was uttered with a thorn stuck in his tongue.

Looking at his appearance alone, he's a quiet guy and a good student. He has a weak, thin build and isn't particularly tall. If the boys in his class were lined up by height, he'd be closer to the front than the middle (though Yata would be at the very front). He wears unfashionable black-framed glasses, and according to Yata, his hairstyle is shabby, and he generally seems unattractive. Yata assumed it was because of his appearance that he became a target for thieves.

His appearance didn't seem to match the person he was when he raised his voice to insult those guys.

"Wait... wait a minute."

As Yata ran back a few meters and picked up his bike, Fushimi rode off, clearly intending to leave him behind. Yata caught up with Fushimi, standing on the pedals, and began riding slowly beside him.

"Hey, don't you mind just giving up and doing nothing? We're going to fight back. I'll call my friends."

"Who said I'd give up and do nothing?"

Fushimi looked at him sideways.

"I'm going to retaliate. I'll crush them twice as hard."

He took out his PDA and muttered as if he were talking to the screen instead of Yata. The application displayed was the one Yata had just installed. Finally, when they found a common theme, Yata became excited.

"Ah, Fushimi, so you have it too. I just installed it..."

As he maneuvered his PDA and balanced it with one hand, his eyes shifted to the screen.

There were even more unfamiliar notifications than he'd glimpsed before.

They were shaped like speech bubbles and looked like an exchange of messages. There were so many speech bubbles that they almost filled the palm-sized screen.

[Yata-kun is annoying, right? Where does such annoying enthusiasm come from?]

[Why does he act so arrogant despite being so short?]

[He's short, but he has a loud voice.]

[They say idiots have loud voices.]

[It's so stupid to act like you're a bad guy when you haven't done anything particularly wrong.]

[What should we do? I told him about the group message, but won't it be annoying if Yata joins?]

[Why don't you create a separate group and teach him that? We'll have the important conversations here and leave the other group alone.]

[But wouldn't it be better to treat it naturally and keep him in a good mood? We could use him if something like this happens again.]

[Isn't that terrible? I feel sorry for Misaki. (laughs)]

[Misaki-chan. (laughs)]

[Misaki-chan. (laughs)]

"What the hell is this...?"

Because he wasn't paying attention while driving, the tire went over the curb and fell sideways along with his bike.

"What...?"

He hit his knee really hard, and it hurt so much he forgot the pain he felt when the third-years hit him. He gritted his teeth, but tears sprang to the corners of his eyes.

He opened his eyes to reach for his PDA, and Fushimi picked it up as it bounced on the ground, casually glancing at the screen.

"Ah!"

He jumped up in a panic and snatched the PDA out of Fushimi's hand.

"Oh, sorry, I fell. Haha, how pathetic of me. Anyway, back to the topic, the retaliation..."

A strangely high-pitched voice came out of his mouth, as if coming from the top of his head.

(Why did I laugh? It wasn't something to laugh about...)

"Oh, they're talking bad about you."

Fushimi simply said it as if he didn't care and turned his face away. Unable to accept the seemingly inconsiderate way in which he was spoken to, Yata retorted.

"That's all? Don't you have anything else to say?"

"Anything else?"

Fushimi tilted his head and spoke with a simple look on his face, as if he truly didn't understand.

"Should I laugh at you? Or do you want my sympathy? I'm not interested in you."

Yata had no way to respond to such a blunt statement.

++++++++++

Yata only took one action. That was the only thing he could think of.

"Hey, what's this?"

The next day, he confronted the three members of the Yata group with the PDA screen and interrogated them. All three were stunned by the screen and asked mischievously.

"What's that? It's terrible."

"Don't pretend you don't know! You think I don't know anything? This is a message from a "Jungle" group, right?"

He tried several things with the app he installed yesterday and got a general idea of ​​how to use it. However, at the time the message exchange in question was received, Yata had just installed the app and hadn't yet registered as a user. Of course, he wasn't part of any of the groups his friends had formed. Regardless, that exchange reached Yata just in time.

"If you have something to say to me, why don't you say it out loud instead of sneaking around?"

"If I tell you, you'll get angry."

"I can't hear you! I told you to speak up!"

He muttered a rebuttal, so he immediately started yelling at him, causing his friends to shake their heads.

"Ah..."

He had been thinking since last night that he should listen calmly and not yell, but he ended up yelling instead.

It was just before the start of morning class, and his classmates were arriving at school one after another. Everyone entered the classroom with a cheerful "good morning" and gasped at the atmosphere in the corner by the window. They looked around, wondering what was going on, and silently placed their bags on their desks. Fushimi hadn't arrived at school yet to take his seat.

Yata took a step back and took a deep breath.

"I won't be angry... If you have any complaints about me, just tell me. I'll listen."

The three of them, huddled by the window, looked at each other, and, as if without realizing it, they all burst out laughing.

"Yata-kun, you said you'd listen. Isn't that the part where you ask us to please tell you?"

"Ahh?! Say it again!"

Finally, he yelled again, grabbed his friend by the collar, and shook his fist. His friend let out a pathetic cry, "Aaaah!" and the other two also began to flee. Small screams were heard from the classmates watching nearby.

His friend desperately shielded his head and turned his face away. Although Yata was shorter, he was holding his friend by the neck, which almost made him faint.

"You can't even fight...", Yata said, looking at his friend with disdain.

He mocked people by adding things like "lol" to their messages, but when he tried to hit him, he was half-crying.

"As for the cheating, you went along with the lie that you forced us to do it. So, Yata-kun, you're the one who doesn't want to be excluded, right?"

"I was protecting them!"

"You wanted to protect me, right? You wanted me to thank you, right?"

"What...?!"

The words Fushimi said to him yesterday came back to him.

"If you want to be thanked, go somewhere else."

He never thought people would think that way.

He didn't want to be thanked. For Yata, it was unthinkable to abandon his friends and pretend he didn't notice anything.

(We're only friends because we play penalty kicks together. I'm the leader of the Yata group, and these are my friends whom I must protect...)

"Stop acting like a leader on your own. Don't you know you're bothering us? No one asked you to join, and being part of the Yata group isn't cool. We want to do other things and have fun, but we're always forced to participate in strange games."

His friend repeated the same thing in a hoarse, raspy voice, tears welling up in his eyes and his face contorted with fear.

He seems to be doing the best he can. Yata knows that face very well. It's the face of a bullied kid who finally stands up to the bullies. It was a common scene in elementary school. Yata was always the one beating up the bullies. Yata certainly acted like a tough guy, but bullying the weak was something he hated and despised.

He wondered when he'd reached the other side and felt dizzy, as if the world around him had turned upside down without him even realizing it.

++++++++++

With his classmates' eyes on him, he put on a face that said he wasn't hurt and left the classroom. Suddenly, all the strength left his body. Class was about to start, but he didn't feel like returning to the classroom. Where should he go? However, he couldn't think of anywhere to go alone, so his feet headed for the boys' restroom.

He closed the door and sat on the Western-style toilet. He leaned his back against the back tank and stared at the ceiling for a while.

He was so moved to tears that he had to go to the bathroom of all places possible. He swallowed the acrid sensation that had risen to the back of his nose.

The bathroom was quiet because the students had already gone to their classrooms. He could hear the sound of water dripping somewhere. It smelled a little off, but after a while his nose got used to it. He wondered if he would ever get used to it.

The bathroom is oddly a good place to think. Is it because there's nothing to see except the wall in front of him, or because there's nothing to do except shit, or is it the gloomy feeling created by the fluorescent lights that are almost always on the verge of going out?

Without even knowing what people were saying about him behind his back, he thought he was leading his friends and acted all grandiloquent and boastful because he thought the others respected him. He was so embarrassed. He felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole. There was just one suitable hole, so he stuck his face between his legs. Damn! It just made him feel a hundred times more miserable. He raised his head and rested the back of it loosely on the edge of the tank.

Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better if he'd never known anything. He wished he hadn't seen that text exchange. If that happened, he wondered if he could still be the center of his group starting tomorrow...

"Hm?"

Suddenly, he noticed a light reflecting off the ceiling. The light was a dim bluish light, different from the white of fluorescent lights, and it flickered, changing shape.

Next door...? How long had it been there...? There was a gap of about a foot at the top of the wall separating the toilets. The light from the adjacent bathroom seemed to be reflecting off the ceiling. He didn't hear any noise, but he wondered, "What's he doing?", he said to himself, thinking that the bathroom is a place to shit.

Trying not to make a sound, he climbed onto the toilet with his shoes on. He placed his hands on the top edge of the wall and stood on tiptoe to look into the next bathroom. He didn't think it was a big deal since it was the men's restroom. Well, it might have been a little embarrassing if his butt had been completely exposed, but the person was fully clothed, sitting on the toilet lid, and he could see his thin, hunched back and slender shoulders.

"Fushimi? What are you doing?"

That came out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.

His thin shoulders jumped dramatically. The person who had taken one end of the receiver out of his ear and turned to look at him was, yes, Fushimi. Two blue, plate-shaped objects appeared on Fushimi's lap and then suddenly disappeared.

"What the...?"

Fushimi's eyes widened, and he almost fell off the toilet lid. Yata could tell from his reaction that it would be surprising if he were suddenly called from above while he was inside the bathroom. But he was a little surprised that he had such a normal reaction.

"Sorry to scare you. I saw a light and thought it was something. But it's not like you were taking a shit, so it's okay, right? Aren't you in class?"

As he pushed his tilted glasses up, Fushimi's expression returned to normal.

"Get lost."

He spat that out and sat back down. As he gently ran his fingers over the PDA screen on his lap, the two plate-shaped objects he'd seen earlier appeared again. Positioned at an angle similar to that of an open laptop, the keyboard and screen were illuminated with a bluish, translucent light.

"What's that? It's cool. Does the PDA have something like that?"

Yata's eyes lit up.

"I made it."

"You made it?!"

What Yata imagined was Fushimi with pliers and wood glue in hand, assembling the PDA as if he were making a plastic model, but that probably wasn't the case. Incidentally, Yata has never built a plastic model exactly according to the finished drawing. Since he does things without reading the instructions, the final product ends up being somewhat different.

"Hey, can you put that on my PDA too?"

Unable to contain his curiosity, Yata leaned his stomach against the top of the partition and pushed his upper body to Fushimi's side.

"Oops.", he said, almost falling over, and kicking his legs, now completely off the floor, to regain his balance. He stared at the light display floating in front of Fushimi's gaze.

"Eh? But we're in class, right? Why's your PDA working? Mine is..."

When he took out his own PDA, it was locked and wouldn't accept any operations. That will continue until the end of school unless a disaster strikes or a parent makes an emergency call.

"Look, I can't operate mine, so why should yours work?"

"Get lost!"

Fushimi yelled as he turned around. As Yata was about to continue speaking, his eyes suddenly widened and he continued to smile.

Fushimi's hateful gaze pierced his chest.

"S-sorry..."

He shrugged, threw his head back, and then slipped out of the bathroom.

He sat sideways on the toilet facing the wall where Fushimi's bathroom was, facing the gap in the partition and remaining silent for a while.

"Uh, well... I won't make too much noise, can I talk to you? Fushimi, are you always idling alone?"

He couldn't remain silent for long, so he spoke solemnly.

He couldn't see him clearly because he was sitting in the back, but Fushimi often missed classes. He seemed like a frail child, so it could be that he was absent due to illness, but the teachers for each subject were always looking around the class and asking, "What's up with Fushimi?", so he was probably AWOL. Now he thinks he must have been quite brave to slack off alone despite his appearance as a good student.

"Actually, this is the first time I've ever relaxed on my own.", he confessed while scratching the back of his neck. In the month or so since he started middle school, he skipped classes a few times, but each time he invited his friends from Yata's class to join him.

There was no response from the person next to him, but he continued, wanting someone to listen.

"The Yata group was a group I created in my class... But, it seems my friends hated me, you know? The things I did for them seemed like a nuisance to them... But don't you think they should have said no if they didn't like me? It's so unfair that now they're saying they never wanted to spend time with me."

He ended by pouting and sounding like he was complaining.

"But you're not listening to what people are saying."

Just when he thought he was finally hearing a response from the person next to him, he was pushed aside with a sensible reason.

"Uh... ugh... that may be true, but..."

He tilted his head as if a heavy stone was being placed on top of him.

He hooked his heels on the toilet rim and sat with his knees hugged to his chest.

"I wonder if the same thing is happening to me complaining to Fushimi right now.", he said, discovering that if he spoke with his chin pressed against his knees, he would speak in a low, mumbled voice, similar to Fushimi.

"I wonder if it's the same as when those guys used the PDA to talk about me behind my back."

"Can't you even sulk alone?"

The cold voice drifted down the wall. There was no way to answer it, and he was devastated and said, "Ugh." But he did pay attention... about once out of three times. He was grateful that he answered, even if it's only once out of three times.

He lifted his chin from his knees and looked up at the ceiling. Just like before, a blue light was reflecting off the ceiling above the dividing wall. Once you know what light is, you can clearly see it reflecting off the PDA screen, and the screen changes rapidly. It seemed as if a small blue bird had been released from the ceiling and was playing by itself.

Why did he start complaining to Fushimi? He thought that if he was dealing with Fushimi, who had no one to hang out with, his complaints wouldn't get any attention... If that was the case, then maybe he was being quite cowardly and started feeling depressed again.

"I caught one."

Suddenly, he heard a voice coming from next door.

Yata was wondering if he had deliberately skipped class to play catch, when...

"You can come see him if you want."

He called out to him.

"Can I go there?"

"As long as you enter through legitimate means."

He heard the sound of the lock of the adjoining bathroom opening. When he called out to him again, he began to wonder if it was appropriate for two men to enter a bathroom together, but in any case, Yata could no longer contain his interest in what Fushimi was doing. He left his spot and, as instructed, this time went to the next door.

Just like before, a light panel shaped like a keyboard and screen floated over Fushimi's lap as he sat on the toilet. Yata squatted in front of Fushimi and looked at the display. The translucent screen was reversed from left to right, but Yata could see what was being shown even from his side.

He immediately realized it was a "Jungle" display. Several 3D characters walked freely in a space resembling a forest plaza. An avatar is a character that represents the user in a virtual space. At first, the character appears simply dressed, but you can customize the face, clothing, and belongings to your liking. After using it last night, Yata also wanted to make his avatar a little cooler, but the system requires you to pay to purchase any flashy costume items.

"Fushimi, your avatar... is this it?"

The one in the center appears to be Fushimi's avatar, but from the looks of it, it doesn't appear to have changed at all from the original. Yata compared the avatar in virtual space with Fushimi's face visible through the translucent screen.

Seen through the blue filter, Fushimi's face looked paler than usual and paler than his avatar, more doll-like.

"How about putting glasses on him?"

He mentioned it on a whim and he completely ignored it.

The avatar was so casual that it blended in with the other variously dressed avatars passing by, but it had an object in its hand that served as a marker. It was an axe.

Then, the screen shook with an effect as if something had collided, and the background changed.

It seemed like some kind of game had started. It didn't look like a fishing game. A collectible card game? Or a puzzle game? Or maybe a simulation game? The game screen seemed crammed with numerous elements, with an inordinate number of parameters and a complicated appearance.

"The game that's all the rage in "Jungle" right now is called "J-Cube". The opponent I just caught is one of yesterday's third-years."

The 3D cards and cube blocks seemed to swim and intertwine on the screen, but eventually they split into Fushimi's side and the opponent's side and formed something like a formation. Each person has five cards and five blocks.

"Oh, I've seen that too."

It was Yata's first time seeing the design on the card (wow, it's cool), but the cube blocks looked familiar. He's never had the actual item, but it's a famous puzzle.

The game is a hexahedron with each side made up of three rows of colored tiles, and players rotate the tiles horizontally or vertically, one row at a time, to collect tiles of the same color on one side. It's complete when all six sides are the same color, but even matching just one side should be quite difficult.

"Just so you understand, by combining the colors of the cubes you accumulate attack and defense power, which is then converted into card parameters, and the cards fight each other. Each color has an attribute; for example, red is "fire", green is "lightning", and white is "recovery". You can create combos by combining the five cubes. For example, if you line up the red faces of the five cubes, you get a 5-combo "fire". There's also an element of strategic simulation, so if you distribute forces between your own base and captured bases, secure supply lines, and manage politics to prevent rebellions."

"Oh, I don't think I know anything more than that, so it doesn't matter."

Halfway through the explanation, Yata gave up. Yata likes games too. In fact, he likes them "a lot". The games he's best at are rhythm games and racing games that require physical movement in arcades, but he's also pretty good at fighting and shooting games. While he's the type to do things without any discrimination, he's not good at things that require memorizing rules or using his brain to make long-range predictions. Woosh! Pow! He believes the true fun of games lies in instinct and reflexes, so he doesn't think he'll ever be compatible with strategic simulations.

Glancing mockingly at Yata, Fushimi glossed over the explanation of the simulation part.

"A depleted card's stamina will gradually recover over time, but if you use a paid item, you can restore it instantly and continue playing. You can also purchase items to strengthen cards for a fee. That's the bad thing about this game... Those guys are investing a fortune. Hundreds of thousands."

"Hundreds of thousands!"

Of course, if they run out of pocket money, they'll get desperate and try to extort money.

"Eh? But you know, aren't the third-years still in class?"

He'd wondered that before, but why can Fushimi and the third-years play during class time, when the PDAs are supposed to be locked?

"Sure, you can't normally do that. But installing "Jungle" creates a vulnerability. The manufacturer of this PDA has very strong security, but "Jungle" can bypass it and infiltrate the system, installing spyware."

"Oh... yeah, I see."

Yata nodded in agreement, but of course he had no idea what was going on.

"Five minutes left."

Then Fushimi looked at the digital clock on the edge of the screen. Before he knew it, a long time had passed. Five minutes before the end of the first period. During recess, people will probably come to use the bathroom.

"Five minutes will be enough."

Fushimi squinted behind his glasses.

The word "Fight!" appeared on the screen, and the battle began.

Suddenly, Fushimi's fingers began to run at incredible speed across the keyboard made of light. The cube spun on the screen, and the colors of the tiles scattered all over the room began to align. The six sides of the first cube aligned so quickly that Yata's eyes couldn't follow what was happening. The card was charged with an enormous amount of energy and attacked the opponent's cards. The health of the opponent's cards was gradually depleted in a way that was thrilling to watch. The screen shook as if it could hear the cards screaming.

"I see... that was a trap."

The person who challenged him to a battle probably never imagined that someone controlling such a random avatar, still in its almost initial state, would be so strong. They must have underestimated him, assuming he was a user who had just started using "Jungle".

Fushimi's cube spun brilliantly, and the colors on the six sides matched quickly, but compared to that, his opponent's cube was slow to handle. All he had to do was align one side, or at best both sides, and convert it into energy little by little.

What was even more surprising was that Fushimi wasn't manipulating the cubes one by one. Yata didn't know how he did it, but he was spinning several cubes on the screen at the same time. The combos he mentioned earlier exploded one after another. His movements were very fast, and he didn't seem to have time to think. His slender fingers danced across the keyboard, as if he were actually grasping and playing with the cubes on the screen.

"Wow..."

Yata couldn't help but murmur in awe.

The opponent was trying to somehow turn the tide of the battle by using more and more items that cost money. It was probably a card they'd invested time and money into developing, so losing it would be painful. Yata used to collect trading cards as well, so he understood that feeling. However, the more panicked they were, the less likely the cubes would be to fit. The enemy's panic on the other side of the screen was palpable.

Across the screen, the corners of Fushimi's mouth curled. A dark, warm smile appeared on Fushimi's face, which normally wore a sullen, scowling expression.

This was the meaning of "I'll smash them twice as hard". Destroying the cards they cherished and cared for in their PDAs, and making them throw their money away. All Yata could think about was fighting back with his fists or getting the cash back. The thought of Fushimi even sent shivers down his spine.

(This guy is scary... But... he's awesome...!)

Before he knew it, Yata's attention had shifted from the battle unfolding on the screen to Fushimi's face visible beyond it. The white face was distorted into jagged pieces by a mosaic pattern of dancing cubes on the screen. His visage resembled that of a purgatory guardian, gleefully watching the criminals burn in the flames.

++++++++++

There were two more extortionists left. They'd likely have been wary of the existence of vicious users who disguise themselves as beginners, stalking and crushing any fool who casually tries their luck, having heard about it from the first victim, so there was a good chance they'd have avoided Fushimi (though it's unlikely they knew that avatar's owner was Fushimi).

Fushimi carefully spaced two or three days between each one, waiting until the remaining two players let their guard down, and then cleverly orchestrated a match, squeezing them dry of their virtual assets in the form of cards and their real assets in the form of fees.

It took a week for the three of them to be completely exposed; in terms of actual playtime alone, that was more than enough, but all three ended up having to pay tens of thousands of yen in in-game purchases. They should have been pale by now.

On the way home a week later.

"Hey, Fushimi, I heard a rumor. If you don't pay your bills, a creepy, masked debt collector from "Jungle" will come and take any bodily tissue that can be converted into money. They'll draw your blood and rip off your skin!"

Yata asked Fushimi, with a look of horror on his face but also a hint of curiosity.

"It's an urban legend."

He was a little disappointed by the curt reply and thought, "Eh? Isn't that true?"

He was getting used to Fushimi's rude reactions. It seemed like it wasn't that the topic Yata was bringing up was bad, but rather that it was simply Fushimi's normal state.

"Thanks to drawing those cards, your deck has become super strong, right? And with your cube skills, no one will be able to stand in your way."

"Yeah. I don't want to do anything else in "Jungle" anymore, and it's gotten boring."

Fushimi, despite his brash mouth, seemed to have his ego satisfied to a certain extent, and for his part, he didn't seem to be in a bad mood.

"If you want the cards, I'll give them all to you. I'll stop now."

"Uh... I don't need it."

He hesitated for a moment, but decided against it. He had seen Fushimi do it and wanted to try, but if he started and then Fushimi quit, it wouldn't be fun.

For the past week, he has gotten used to going home with Fushimi.

Yata was standing next to him, so he wasn't sure if Fushimi was planning on riding home with him. Yata hopped on his bike and pedaled to and from Fushimi. "Oops." Sometimes he stumbles and almost collides with Fushimi, but even that's really funny.

"But, even if it's just an urban legend, I'm sure they're already scared. If they don't pay their next bill, who knows if a masked debt collector might show up."

It was comforting to imagine the third-year students fearing that they'd be caught by the dreaded debt collectors at any moment, their blood drained, and their skin ripped off.

"They'll need extra money and get desperate and start extorting."

After bursting out laughing,

"Yes?"

Sometimes, he suddenly realized what he'd said.

"Hey, Fushimi? I'll ask you anyway, but since it's you, of course we need to know what our next steps are..."

Suddenly, his bike was yanked from behind. His head was violently whipping from side to side, and when he turned, precariously standing, he saw someone standing there, holding onto the frame of the bike rack. It was one of those third-years.

Suddenly, he looked ahead and saw the remaining two appear from the woods, blocking his way.

It's that quiet path that runs between the back of the school and the shrine forest. Although it's close to the school, it's a road the students don't use to get around by bus, so unfortunately there's no one around.

"Could you lend me more money, Fushimi-kun? Eighty thousand yen. I really need it."

The two in front stood on either side of Fushimi, covering him. One of the people in the back was holding Yata's bicycle.

"I don't have any money."

"If you don't, of course you'll bring it from home right now, Fushimi-kun. We're in serious trouble. You have to put yourself in each other's shoes when we're in trouble, right?"

With a clear tone of threat in their voices, the two approached Fushimi. There was a sense of urgency in the atmosphere compared to when they got involved last week. Maybe they simply needed the money and didn't want revenge after discovering it was Fushimi who had beaten them so brutally.

Fushimi took a slight step back. He unleashed murderous intent, ready to headbutt them again if they came even an inch closer.

Surely those guys, who had already suffered that counterattack once, wouldn't be stupid enough to attack them the same way without taking any countermeasures? Yata quickly glanced at the third-year students. One of them was holding something in his jacket pocket...

(These guys are armed...?!)

The moment Yata glimpsed what looked like a Swiss Army knife, he kicked the third-year student in the chest as he held onto the bike rack.

Caught off guard, the third-year let out a grunt and stepped back. Using the momentum of the kick, Yata kicked his bike and crashed into Fushimi and the two remaining third-year students.

"What?"

The two third-year students jumped back in panic.

"Fushimi, hop on!"

He slammed on the brakes and shouted back. The third-year students became nervous and tried to capture Fushimi. A chill ran down his spine as the knife sped toward Fushimi's face.

"Fushimi!"

Just in time, literally by a hair, Fushimi dodged the knife and ran toward him.

Yata immediately began pedaling his bike forward. Fushimi, who had caught up with him, jumped onto the moving bike. Surprised at how agile he was despite not looking capable of exercising, he pressed hard on the pedals and picked up speed in one fell swoop.

"Don't fall!"

Yata shouted, then leaned forward and pedaled with all his might.

Pedal hard! Harder!

"Here we go!"

His own determined voice drowned out the third-years' voices, and they faded away.

As they started down, he decided he'd gone far enough and looked back. Although he could vaguely hear angry voices, the third-year students had completely disappeared across the street. Fushimi also looked back as he gripped the edge of his chair to steady himself.

"Phew! We're over it now."

He gasped, but it felt great.

"If you think about it, it's obvious, right? If Fushimi forces those guys to spend money on the game, then they'll come back to Fushimi and ask for money, creating a cycle. What were you going to do then?"

"What? I hadn't thought of that."

Fushimi turned to him, adjusted his position, and said with a sullen look on his face.

"Eh? You didn't think of that?"

"When I came up with the worst way to get revenge on them, I wanted to crush them with it as quickly as possible, and after that, I didn't care about anything else."

Fushimi wasn't just defiant, he was even proud.

Yata was surprised and looked back at the bespectacled Fushimi, who looked like a very intelligent character.

"You seemed so sure of yourself, but it can't be true. Those guys were carrying knives. It would have been worse than a beating like the other day. It's only natural that those guys would escalate their methods to hurt you, think about it for a moment. Maybe there weren't people like that at the school where you grew up, like a spoiled brat..."

"If you don't want to get involved, don't cling to me. It's not you they're after. You don't seem to have any money."

"I didn't say that! Why are you so twisted? I'm doing this for you!"

He raised his voice in irritation at the perverse response, but then calmed down.

That's the same thing he told his friends in the Yata group. He didn't help them because he wanted to impose his goodwill on them... and even now, it's not like he was pedaling so hard because he wanted Fushimi to thank him. "I did it for you." No... that was the reason...

The bike stuck out too far from the street, so passing cars were honking at it.

It's a two-seater, which can be problematic if you get caught by the police. He stopped talking and focused on pedaling forward.

Yata silently led Fushimi, who was sulking and quiet behind him.

Yata was unsure of the reason why he'd been so excited when he managed to escape, shaking off the third-year students who were chasing and shouting at him.

Because he wasn't alone.

After all, riding a bike with someone behind him and pedaling as hard as you can while escaping from the bad guys together sounds like a pretty exciting adventure.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

want talk about how important have AAC in your language.

language of birth country, of family, big language, so many native speaker, even more second third learned language speaker. but, even that, is language not often seen in robust AAC apps develop by western countries—because not one of big western countries.

there only one robust symbol based (or TTS tbh) AAC app have that language: TD snap.

which mean. must make it work.

how important it is have AAC that fit your needs: right grid size, right motor plan, right access support (switch, eye gaze, etc), right editing, right symbols, right color & color coding & contrast, right everything. n so much of this, actual need, and not preference.

which why there so many english symbol based AAC apps, each with different logic to where words are, how word organized, what symbol use, what editing feature have, all backed by their research & tech development… you get choose. if one app not right for you, have others. sometimes is prefer one over other, but other times is, some apps unusable for you, conflict needs for you, cannot understand it (e.g touch chat for me).

TD snap organization not work for me. core word not enough, fringe word organized not fit way my brain work, n overall not enough words that match own daily life.

but have to make it work. because it between this, or not communicate in words with family & with world in country where everyone speak this language.

so, am deleting everything, all words, all boards, & remake, reorganize. trying make it work. begging make it work. pay no mind how it take tens even hundreds of hours (years in making, still not finished). …it my only option.

n, this lucky case scenario—

people who cannot, or not allowed to, edit their AAC in such big way. people who cannot use that sad one app that contain your language.

or, especially: there languages & speaker of those language who need AAC but have no AAC because there no AAC that support their language.

their voice robbed.

but that not all. for longest time still not able use AAC in birth country language. because have no voice go along.

want talk about how important have useable voices in AAC in your language.

in gender that reflect you, tone & personality that reflect you, pronunciation & accent & everything that reflect you.

using voice that not used to, already feel like speaking through someone else mouth. very odd feeling—it you speaking, it you communicating, but it coming out of someone else mouth, in their voice, not yours. where yours?

even with voice that like, still take me while fully connect with voice. with voice mere tolerate, always feel discomfort, not fully mine. with voice that opposite who you are?

averse. rather not talk at all.

not willing choice. but physical reaction, recoil, hate, uncomfortable deep under skin, disgust.

between acapella voice group & IOS voices, there maybe 5-6 voices for birth country language, all very gendered, middle age “karen” sounding, robotic unnatural, unclear, hard hear what trying say, tele-announcer tone. 5-6, but somehow all sound same.

and, make no mistake, 5-6 badly made ones. is lots. other languages, have 1, or 2. or none. this, lucky.

so, not communicate with words at all. completely nonverbal all the time, so gestures, noises, grunts, is what left. need parents with 24/7, because other don’t know why not talk, don’t even know can not talk, don’t understand what mean with all these body language noises/-n, by the way, parents is part reason have cPTSD, but have be around them, because nonverbal high support needs, what can you do, what other option you have?. and, still, frequent meltdowns n tantrum—because often no one understand.

have words that cannot use. in language that itself is trauma trigger.

today, found that apple/ios now expanded voices for birth country language. so many now! so many also have enhanced & premium options, that come with ios, no extra cost. so many different personalities, tones, inflections. and, sound so natural.

cried. because. finally may able communicate with words in birth country language again.

don’t know how explain to people who, never had go through forced silence, how important and huge and even life changing this is.

won’t take away communication disability, won’t take away other AAC difficulties, won’t take away trauma, won’t make birth country language any less of trauma trigger, but—

it there when ready.

—to all my AAC users who speak language that not commonly supported by robust AAC apps on market. especially those BIPOC, those diaspora and those from the country. those who speak language with few speakers. especially those nonverbal nonspeaking who have no other option. those who cannot type, who can only use symbol base AAC, so effectively stranded without one that support their language. love you all, see you all, even if AAC companies don’t.

[arcsparkasriel]

Introducing Lofitale (part 1)

LOFITALE ASRIEL DREEMURR

My AU Lofitale is an idealistic Post Pacifist AU that adds in the Deltarune characters as little kids. How they actually were in Undertale! Susie and Noelle, according to the unreleased Alarm Clock app, were called Suzy and Noel. It also serves as a medium to advertise my streaming persona of Lofitale Asriel Dreemurr, who I Vtube as! It takes place on the Surface in the city you see at the end of the game, which I aptly named New Ebott City! Here, monsters and humans are learning to co-exist in harmony.

The main character of this story and who I play as on Twitch, YouTube, Twitter, and Tumblr. Prince Asriel Dreemurr! During the final confrontation, Frisk and Ralsei constructed a new soul for Asriel from small pieces of all seven human souls, including Frisk's own, to fill in what was left of his own fragmented soul. What resulted was retaining the adolescent form he attained in his Angel of Hyperdeath form. The resulting reunion with his family was long awaited and bittersweet. It took a long time and help from his extended family to get him through the darkness of his memories. Asriel developed something of a guilt complex and a short temper, but he's still the same golden child of goodness that he once was. Henow works three jobs to support his family in their lavish apartment in New Ebott City. One of them is a professional streamer from the comfort of his own room. Oftentimes, with his little brother Ralsei.

LOFITALE RALSEI DREEMURR

Ralsei, in Lofitale, is Asriel's first blood brother. Born in the Ruins eight months after Toriel first leaves Asgore. So he is also a prince in this world too. He's born with albinism which would explain his poor eyesight, pink eyes, pink horns, and pink claws. Ralsei was more reserved and shy than his brother before him. He would come to know each and every one of the six fallen humans who would ultimately be harvested and break his heart even further. Unbeknownst to him, his big brother was still alive, watching over him from the shadows as the soulless Flowey. When Frisk arrived, Ralsei developed a strong bond with him and stuck close throughout the whole journey through the Underground. He would come to finally meet his big brother Asriel, and to this day, they are inseparable. Ralsei is with Asriel every time he streams on Twitch.

LOFITALE SUZY DREEMURR

Suzy in Lofitale is an orphaned little girl who lost her parents to Alphys' original determination experiments. Unlike the later trst subjects who became amalgamates, her parents fell down on the spot. Forcing her to live alone for some time. Surviving off of whatever scraps she could find. Sometimes, resorting to stealing or eating inedible objects. Susie was malnourished and sickly when Frisk first met her in the passageways of Waterfall. Being the gutter rat she was, Suzy developed her own survival at any costs mindset. She was suspicious and hostile at first, but she quickly warmed up to Frisk and Ralsei. All three of them would form a bond stronger than they realized. Toriel would adopt her alongside Frisk when they all return to the surface. She currently goes to Seaside Elementary with her new brothers, Frisk and Ralsei.

LOFITALE FRISK DREEMURR

The Hero of the Underground. The Seventh Fallen Human. The Most Determined. You all know Frisk. You all know the story of the Undertale and Frisk's journey through the Underground. Frisk would be introduced to Ralsei when he first arrived in the Underground. Much like Asriel and Chara before them, Ralsei would bring Frisk to his mother. Unlike the other six fallen humans, something special about Frisk stood out to Ralsei. Ralsei would follow Frisk through the whole journey and learn about everything. In Waterfall, Frisk would meet the street urchin Suzy and develop a kinship with her. On the surface, after helping Asriel free monsterkind, Frisk is living his best life with his new family.

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis with Benefits - Part 2

Summary: “You come over to help your friend with setting up their new couch, but soon you find out that you weren’t the only one

Wc: 4.6k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: mention of blood and cheating. loads of banter and tension…

A/N: Hey guys! Here is the second part of Nemesis with Benefits! The tension is brewing and it’s stirring up nothing but confusion!!! I’m so excited about this series, and I’m so grateful to see it getting such a good response. Enjoy!!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

From Benjamin:

HELP I CANT GET MY COUCH TOGETHER😭

Can someone pls come over and help?

You stare at the text messages Benjamin sent in the group chat. You are quick to open your agenda app to see if you are free to help your friend. Before you can even text Benjamin that you're available, and will come over soon, he calls you. You pick up.

"Help!" Benjamin's panicked voice sounds from the other side of the line. "If I have to tackle this couch alone for one more minute, I'm gonna kill someone. And since the couch and I are the only things in the room, it's probably gonna be me!"

You stifle a laugh. "I was just about to text you that I'll come over. Stay there. Don't move, and don't kill yourself."

"I'll try." Benjamin whines dramatically. You roll your eyes as you hang up on your friend, and grab your headphones and jacket.

Within two minutes, you are outside your building and walking to Benjamin's apartment. He moved into an apartment building off campus this summer. A couple of weeks ago his couch—which was already on the verge of breaking—broke, and he had to order a new one. Not that he minded; he loved shopping for anything. He'd always join you whenever you would run errands.

It takes no more than ten minutes to get to Benjamin's apartment building, though, because it is quite close to campus. Plus, you are a fast walker, so you are always a couple of minutes faster.

You ring the doorbell and Benjamin lets you into the building. After riding the elevator, you walk to Benjamin's apartment. He is already waiting in the doorway and gives you a big hug once you're within reach.

"Oh thank God you're here!" He exclaims, hugging you so tight that it is getting hard to breathe. "You are truly the only reliable friend I have around here."

"I'm happy to be of help, babe." You choke out a laugh, pulling out of the embrace, and walking past Benjamin into his living room.

“Now, let’s see what this evil couch is about…”

************************************************

30 minutes later

"How did you manage, out of all couches in the world, to buy the most complex and pain in the ass one?!" You huff, a drop of sweat running down your forehead. You are sitting crisscross applesauce, hunched over, trying to figure out the way this stupid couch is set up.

You managed to get halfway before getting stuck. Step 17 was the devil in disguise, and it had you developing lower back pain and a stress induced headache. Still, you were determined to figure it out. Benjamin asked you for help, and if the help couldn't manage to assemble this couch, you knew he would leave this unfinished for weeks.

"The people at the store said it was easy!" Benjamin protests with a sigh.

"Yeah, maybe for people who sell couches for a living. Not for broke students who prepare all their food in the microwave!" You say, frowning at the couch. Benjamin's killing comment from earlier isn't seeming as dramatic as it did before. You might just throw this couch—or yourself—out the window.

There's a faint knock on the front door. You aren't sure if there is even someone there, but the way Benjamin skips to the door washes the doubt away.

"Hey! What are you doing here?!" Benjamin's voice sounds slightly distressed. You look up to see who he let in, and your face falters immediately at the sight of Harry walking into the living room.

"You said you needed help, so I—" Harry stops talking once he spots you too, and he sighs. Your eyes widen. He has the nerve to actually sigh? What a douchebag!

"I'm going to the bathroom." You say, glaring Harry down as you move out of the living room. You hear some footsteps behind you, and you know that Benjamin is following you. You let him enter the bathroom with you, and turn around as he closes the door.

"I can't believe you would let him come over while I'm here!" You cross your arms. You are quite upset with Benjamin, but even more so with Harry. The sole sight of his smug face sets you off. He annoys you to no end.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know! I texted him, and he never responded. He just comes over without warning a lot. This wasn't intentional, I swear." Benjamin explains, and you can tell that he's sincere. Benjamin can be almost as much of a pain in the butt as his stupid couch, but he would never intentionally hurt you. But Harry would, and he did.

"I just..." you take a deep breath before you make the confession you've been bothered with for a while now. "Harry hurt me, a lot. And you're still friends with him..."

It's Benjamin's turn to sigh. He grabs your arms and levels with you, searching for your eyes.

"Harry is on the bench." He tells you, like you are supposed to know what that means.

"You know we're building you a couch, not a bench—"

"No, dumbass!" Benjamin interrupts you. "Harry's on the friendship bench. He was demoted to second string. He ain't playing in the game that I call my inner circle."

You sigh. "Okay, could you just leave the metaphors for a second and tell me what you mean—"

"I punched him." He shrugs as if it is as simple as ever. You, however, have your mouth hanging wide open.

"You punched Harry?"

"Of course I did. What he did to you was beyond shitty, and he totally deserved it." Benjamin confirms, and your heart sinks at the fact that you doubted his loyalty to you in the first place. "But Harry has been one of my best friends since high school. And what happened— well... let's just say that the story is not totally black and white."

That makes you feel a bit offended. "What is not black and white about this situation? Dylan cheated, Harry participated."

"I agree, that part is black and white. That's why I punched him." He nods his head. "Now, you can go home, and I will try and assemble this stupid couch with him. I totally understand that you don't want to stay here."

"No!" You say angrily. Benjamin's eyebrows crease into a frown, almost as surprised as you by your drive to stay here.

"But—"

"Why?! So he can brag about the couch that I basically put together?!" You murmur as you cross your arms, eyes squinting a bit at the thought of him walking around with that inflated ego of his. There is absolutely no way he is getting another something of yours, again!

"Y/N, it's just a couch—" Benjamin tries to argue, but you won't hear of it.

"This is not about the stupid couch!" You blurt out. This shuts him up. He stares at you for a few seconds with this look in his eyes that reads 'go home, don't do this'. But you don't feel like listening, so you walk past him, out of the bathroom and back into the living room.

"I don't think this is a good idea!" Benjamin calls out from the bathroom.

"Too bad!" You call back. Benjamin is right on your heels and right next to you by the time you stand in front of Harry again. He has already seated himself in the place where you were sitting just now. He's got the manual in one hand and a screw driver in the other.

"I fixed the problem. You were using the wrong screws." Harry says, the comment more directed at Benjamin than at you. But you take it personally anyway, because you are the one who selected the screws. You walk over to him and snatch the manual out of his hands.

"I read it five times, I definitely used the right—" upon reading step 17 for the fifth time, you finally see the name of the screws you were supposed to use. Your brain tends to mash up words after a while, and all the screws' names really read alike.

When you look up from the piece of paper, you see Harry smirking at you. He knows he's right, and he knows you know he's right, and that makes you incredibly angry. He shouldn't be allowed to be right, ever. Not in front of you, at least.

With a groan, you sit yourself down next to Harry and snatch the screwdriver out of his hand before burying your nose into the manual again. You mutter a small profanity under your breath, and Harry just scoffs at the sound of it.

This is gonna be a long evening...

************************************************

"Fuck." Harry curses, mainly to himself, when the leg of the couch doesn't stay in place once again. He has tried three times now, not letting you help him.

"I told you to—"

"Shut up." Harry growls, not even sparing a glance at you. He is heavily concentrating on his failing work.

"This could be solved quicker if you'd just listen to me." You tell him, reaching towards the sofa table where you've put all the screws and other necessary stuff for building this couch.

"No. This could be solved quicker if you'd just let me look at the manual." Harry responds. You squint at him, even though he can't see you. He'll feel the hate of your withering stare nonetheless.

You don't say anything, though, keeping yourself as you sort out the screws that lie in front of you. It has been an hour of sitting with Harry and trying to piece this couch together. So far you have had the upper hand, mainly because you have the manual.

Benjamin tried to help the first 30 minutes, but after being snarled at too many times, he resigned to cleaning his kitchen. So now you are sitting alone with Harry.

"Okay... done. What's next?" Harry asks, looking at you and the manual in your lap. You don't return the glance, still focused on counting the amount of screws you need.

"Wait."

Harry rolls his eyes. "If you'd just give me the stupid manual—"

"Damn it! Now I lost count." You look up and glare at Harry. "Could you shut up for a second?"

"Nope. Give me the manual." He crosses his arms. Leaning against the wall behind him. You shake your head. There is no way he is getting this piece of paper.

"No."

You go back to counting the screws, when all of a sudden the manual is snatched away from your lap. Your mouth falls open and your eyes follow the way Harry's hands take it away. You are about to cuss him out, when Benjamin's voice announces something from behind you.

"Guys, I have a class in twenty minutes, so I have to go. C'mon, I can finish the couch another time." He says and you don't miss the relief in his voice. He's probably already happy that his apartment didn't blow up in the first ten minutes of you and Harry being in the same room.

"It's fine. I can finish it up. Won't take long, now that I've got the manual and everything." Harry offers with a smile. Jaw clenched, you swallow his stupid comment and also turn to your friend.

"I'll stay too. Have to finish what I started."

There is no way in hell you're letting Harry get away with acting like he built this whole couch by himself, when it was actually just the step 17 and about five others after that.

"Oh, that's very sweet, but I don't know if—"

"We won't kill each other, I promise." I try to reassure him, hoping to get some backing from Harry about this.

"We won't?"

You turn around and give Harry your greatest death stare.

"I'm just saying, you were being pretty aggressive with that screwdriver just now." He puts his hands up defensively. You sigh, redirecting your attention back to your friend.

"Fine. I promise to refrain from impaling Harry's head with a screwdriver until we're outside of the apartment." You say.

"Yeah, that sounds more believable." Harry murmurs approvingly.

Benjamin looks at the two of you, thinking it over for a bit. Everything about his face reads that he thinks this is a bad idea. You don't blame him the slightest, but you let your eyes plead him to let you do this anyway. You need it. The exact reason why, you don't know. But... you just need this.

"Okay." Benjamin finally says, earning a smile from you. "Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. I'll be back in about two hours."

"Aye aye captain." You joke, giving your friend a hug before returning to the floor alongside Harry. You hear the rattling of the house keys Benjamin grabbed from the counter, and watch as he walks to his front door.

"Don't get blood on my new couch." He shouts just in time for the door to slam shut. You take a deep breath, the fact that you are alone with Harry now really kicking in.

It's fine. You can do this. He sucks.

"Can you tell me how many screws I needed again?" You ask, attempting to be as polite as you possibly can to the guy your boyfriend cheated on you with.

"I don't know, can I? Oh wait, of course I can. Because I have the manual." He taunts, flicking the pages to step 25. He reads and reads, and a smirk forms on his face as his head lifts up.

"Guess."

"Don't be an asshole. Just tell me, I want to get this over with." You say, your head tilting. The look in your eyes radiates seriousness, and for a moment you think Harry understands how you're feeling.

"Erm, that wasn't a guess, that was just words."

If it was physically possible to exert steam from your ears, you would've looked like an old train. You groan and lean forward to snatch the manual away from Harry, but he is quick to move it out of reach. He holds it over his head.

"Aw c'mon, it was just a joke!" Harry teases even further. You are seeing red with rage and it takes everything to not scream every foul word in the book at him.

"It's not funny!" You try to grab the paper again, but Harry is too swift for you.

"It kind of is."

"No it's not! Nothing about this is funny!" You suddenly snap. "I don't want to be here with you. I just want to finish building this stupid couch and go home, so please give me the manual."

"Then why are you still here?!" Harry inquires firmly, a deep frown knitted onto his face.

"Why are you?!" You fire back, frustrating grown with each second that your eyes bore into his.

"I asked you a question, Y/N. I told Benjamin I'd do it myself, you cannot stand me. There is no logical reason for you to still be here, so why the fuck are you?"

"Because I can't let you take another thing from me!"

You blurt out confession before you have a chance to stop yourself, and your cheeks instantly go red with embarrassment. Harry's mouth hangs slightly open at the collection of words that just left your mouth. You avoid his eyes burning onto your skin as you try to steady your breathing. Your heart is pounding out of your chest.

"Just give me the stupid manual." You mumble, snagging it from his unsuspecting hands. You open the little book to your page, but the hiss that leaves Harry's mouth has you looking up at him. Your eyes widen at the sight of blood.

Dripping from Harry's hand is quite a bit of blood. Shit, you gave him a huge paper cut. Guilt washes over you, and you rush to the kitchen and back to give him some paper towels. Out of instinct, you wrap the towels around his hand. You are closer to Harry than you would normally be, but it's an emergency—one that you caused—so there's a necessary reason for it.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to— let's get you to the kitchen." You put some pressure on his small wound and drag him to the kitchen. Harry doesn't say anything, but he lets you lead anyway. It is like your confession has shut him up, which is very rare because Harry never shuts up.

You put Harry's injured hand under the faucet and let the water wash away the blood. You get a better look of the cut and can deduce that a little bit of bandage would be best to keep a bit of pressure on it for now. You tell Harry to keep his hand in the same place, and reach for the first aid box you bought Benjamin as one of his housewarming gifts. This one was more of a joke, but it comes in handy now.

By the time you've collected everything you need, you turn off the faucet and dry Harry's hand with some new paper towels. It is completely silent between the two of you as you dap the towels onto his skin. But you can feel Harry's stare. It doesn't surprise you very much when he speaks up.

"I'm sorry."

Your body stops everything it was doing and takes in the apology for a few seconds, then resumes back to drying Harry's hand

"I'm gonna put some bandage around your hand. It'll keep pressure on the cut. You'll be able to switch to a band aid after a while." You casually explain, choosing to ignore his words. You don't really have the mental capacity to deal with it right now.

"Y/N, I'm not just saying it. I mean it, I'm sorry." Harry almost pleads. You look at him and hate the sincerity that flashes through his eyes. You'd prefer it if it wasn't there. It's gonna turn out to be bullshit anyway; he shouldn't be saying it like he means it. "What I— we did was stupid, I shouldn't have done that. I was just... I was in love, and I thought—"

"I don't want to listen to your excuses, Harry." You interrupt him. "You may have your reasons, but you did what you did. It already happened, you can't talk yourself out of it."

"I'm not trying to talk myself out of it."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to tell you the truth." Harry grits through his teeth.

"So what? So I can feel bad for you about stealing my boyfriend?!" You respond, the condescension in your tone dripping over the words you speak.

"You stole him first!" He growls very loudly. You are taken aback by the sudden aggressiveness.

"What?" The questions almost comes out like a whisper. You are utterly lost. What is this guy talking about? Harry huffs, looking away from you. He is clearly embarrassed.

"Nothing."

"No, tell me." You demand, wrapping the bandage around Harry's palm. "You owe me, at the very least."

Harry sighs, shaking his head. His eyes flick between yours and the his wounded hand. He exhales deeply before finally beginning with talking.

"We were... sleeping together, Dylan and I. It was casual; he said he didn't want a relationship, that he wasn't ready. Then about three weeks after saying that, he started dating you."

You don't open your mouth, instead focusing on processing the information that Harry is throwing your way, which is proving to be a bit difficult. You shake your head.

"That's shitty of him." You simply say, deciding to not want to offer him any pity. It is indeed a fucked up thing to string someone along and then date someone else, but it doesn't excuse what Harry did.

You focus on finishing up with the bandage on Harry's arm, and smile at your work. You could definitely be a nurse if you wanted to.

"Okay. Let's go back to that devil of a couch." You say, and the air feels a bit lighter now. It isn't so heavy with unresolved tension as it was before. There still is loads, but it is easier to breathe than before.

"Alright." Harry agrees, walking behind you to the living room.

************************************************

One and a half hour later

"I'm never doing favors for anyone ever again." You say, staring wide-eyed at the couch you and Harry finally managed to put together. It took you long enough—thanks to Harry—but you're finally done.

"Gotta agree with you on that one." Harry nods, hands on his hips as he analyzes the couch.

"Of course you do. I'm always right." You shrug, and Harry rolls his eyes.

The past hour and a half have been strangely good for you and Harry. You still hate him, and you are pretty sure he feels the same way about you, but there is kind of a non-negotiated truce now. That doesn't keep you from seizing every opportunity to insult him. You haven't lost your edge.

You flop down on the couch, and Harry follows suit. You sit in silence, staring at the white wall in front of you. That's when you see something on the sofa table, and you can quite literally feel the blood drain from your face.

In the table lay a ziplock bag of screws. Ones that you were supposed to put somewhere in this couch, but you didn't. All freaked out, you start looking for the instructions again.

"Where's the manual?" You question, aimlessly scanning the room. When your glance goes past Harry, you see the little white book in his hand. You lean forward to grab it, but he moves it away from you very quickly.

"Come on. It wasn’t funny the first time, it’s not funny now.” You tilt your head and reach out your hand, hoping that your motherly tone will make him put the piece of paper back in your hand. But he doesn’t, only shrugging at your tiny lecture. Your lips break into a slight smirk, and you heave a sigh.

“Fine. You want to play foul, then foul it is.”

Then, in a matter of seconds, you’ve thrown yourself over Harry, grasping the manual. You have managed to get a hold of it, clearly having caught him off guard. But that doesn’t hold for long, as he’s regained his senses quickly and puts an arm around your waist, lifting you up and throwing you off the couch. You land on the rug with a small thud, and although it doesn’t hurt much, there is fire in your eyes when they meet Harry’s cocky face. He’s holding up the manual behind him as he laughs at you lying on the ground.

Without thinking for another second, you charge at him, jumping on him and snatching the manual out of his hands. You lean back to get away, but almost fall backwards. That is until an arm around your waist catches you. You are pulled into Harry and his action to save you leaves the both of you very close to one another. You are still breathing heavily from your ‘attack’, but then you feel something else.

The beating of your heart at the proximity between you and Harry; it stresses you out to be this close to him. Suddenly, it becomes apparent, too apparent; Harry’s fingers are dug into your waistline.

You blame the way your body reacts to the fact that you haven’t gotten laid in a month, yet you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from Harry. He shares your troubles, his gaze fixated on you like you could fade away at any second.

Your eyes widen ever so slightly when Harry leans forward. A couple inches, but forward nonetheless. No matter how radical and ridiculous your mind finds this action, your body doesn’t do a thing to stop it. There is a spark that radiates off Harry and enters your veins through the touch of his fingers, the heat of his breath, and the feel of his stare.

His eyes dart from yours to your mouth, asking without asking, as he inches closer with every few seconds. You feel those sparks morphing into a flame as Harry’s lips brush yours ever so slightly, and your heavy eyes flutter shut.

“I’m back!”

You jump off Harry’s lap in an impressive short amount of time, just in time for the door to shut and Benjamin to walk through the door. His eyes travel to the counter, where a partly bloodied paper towel still lies. A gasp leaves his lips.

“YOU STABBED HIM?!”

His eyes fly to you and Harry, and he sighs deeply at the sight of the both of you unharmed, well… mostly.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d stab him.”

“Why did you think she was the one who stabbed me?”

You and Harry responded at the same time. You flick Harry a look before explaining the situation to your friend.

“I accidentally gave him a paper cut.” You point to Harry’s bandaged hand, which he is holding up. “But thanks for thinking I’m vicious enough to stab someone, I guess.”

“Yeah, and thanks a lot for thinking I’m not.” Harry adds with a frown, his arms crossed. Benjamin stifles out a laugh.

“Well, thanks for the couch. I owe you guys.” He smiles, pulling you into a hug. “D’ya wanna go for a drink together?”

“No!” You call out as soon as Benjamin finishes his question, earning a pair of confused looks from the two boys. “I— uh, I have to go. Assignment. I have to do an assignment.”

You stumble over your words and steps as you grab your jacket and headphones, heading for the front door.

“Okay… will I see tonight?!” Benjamin shouts the question which reminds you of Tyler’s birthday party tonight. Tyler is a friend you got to know through Benjamin. Almost hooked up with him once.

“I’ll let you know!” Is all you say before walking out the door, shutting the door behind you. You rush to the elevator, not wanting the boys to catch up with you. You put on your headphones, taking a deep breath before putting play on the music.

You need some time to think about what the fuck happened back there.

[simmerkate]

XTRA Interactions Mods

Introducing "Xtra Interactions," a mod for The Sims 4 that expands the range of social interactions available to your Sims! Developed with the goal of adding depth and realism to your Sims' social lives, this mod introduces 13 new dynamic interactions that delve into various aspects of contemporary conversations and interactions.

"F Bomb": Sometimes, emotions can run high, and Sims now have the option to express their frustration or anger with a straightforward and powerful statement. Use this interaction when your Sims need to release some built-up tension!

"Backhanded Compliment": Not all compliments are created equal. Sims can now deliver a compliment with a subtle hint of sarcasm or hidden meaning. Watch the recipient's reaction as your Sim walks the fine line between praise and critique.

"Body Positivity Conversation": Promote self-love and acceptance among your Sims by engaging in heartfelt discussions about body positivity. Encourage a healthy body image and help your Sims develop a more positive relationship with their own appearance.

"Discuss Fitness Apps": In the digital age, fitness has gone mobile! Sims can now chat about their favorite fitness apps, sharing tips, and exchanging experiences to stay motivated and reach their health goals.

"Discuss Fitness Classes": Exercise is more fun with company! Sims can engage in conversations about various fitness classes, from yoga to cardio workouts, and discuss the benefits and challenges of each.

"Engage in Mindfulness": Encourage your Sims to take a moment for themselves and embrace the practice of mindfulness. This interaction allows Sims to discuss and learn about techniques to reduce stress and enhance their overall well-being.

"Female Empowerment": Foster empowerment and gender equality among your Sims. Initiate conversations that focus on the strength, achievements, and challenges faced by women, inspiring your Sims to break barriers and pursue their dreams.

"Flirty Fight": Love and passion can take many forms. Sims can engage in playful, flirtatious banter that adds a spicy twist to their romantic relationships. Sparks will fly as they exchange teasing remarks and engage in light-hearted arguments.

"Spill The Tea": Keep your Sims in the loop with the latest gossip and scandals by engaging in juicy conversations. Share secrets, rumors, and intriguing tidbits that add an element of drama to your Sims' social lives.

"Stand Up Against Gender Inequality": Promote equality and social justice by encouraging your Sims to voice their opinions on gender inequality. This interaction allows them to express their concerns, share stories, and discuss ways to combat discrimination.

"Talk About the Living Crisis": Engage your Sims in thought-provoking conversations about the pressing challenges of the living crisis. Delve into the impact of declining real disposable incomes, adjusted for inflation, taxes, and benefits, that individuals and households have faced.

"Throw Shade": Sims with a mischievous streak can now throw shade at each other in a playful and sassy manner. This interaction adds a touch of humor and wit to your Sims' conversations, ensuring they never run out of snappy comebacks.

"Xtra Interactions" is a must-have mod for players seeking a deeper and more engaging social experience in The Sims 4. Expand your Sims' conversational repertoire and explore new avenues of interaction that reflect the complexity of the real world. Unleash the power of words and emotions in your virtual neighborhood, and watch as your Sims' relationships and social lives flourish with newfound depth and realism.

Follow me on insta @SimmerKatex

Curseforge (xx) FREE

[brunolover808]

A Concrete Man

A hero has a firefly that keeps them from the darkness.

X (F)reader

Jumps from third person to second

Warning wholesomeness

The development of the world's strongest hero comes with its flaws. For years the creation has been lacking the true connection of someone. The need for what was never given to the monster from its birth. That deep aching desperation sewn into every seam. Only being temporarily filled by someone who didn't care for the monster really. So that tiny temporary stand in was thrown away in need of something more.

After the tragic death of Stillwell, there was an underlying tension surrounding the hero. Before it was like walking on ice as it crackled but never snapped underneath the weight of innocent employees. Now the surface was so thin, only someone naive would step on the ice. A swift, but chilling death to be captured in the raging river below.

A statement went out to all employees to avoid confrontation with Homelander. Not like anyone was wanting to make a mistake in front of the man anyway. Thankfully actions were being taken to help with putting the dog back on its leash. Besides the distraction of a certain Becca and Ryan Butcher, there was another small addition to Homelander's plate.

Homelander was not one for technology, but the company gave him a smart device. In addition Stan Edgar has enforced that Ashley makes sure to have Homelander using a certain app created just for him.

V-touch, an app made for Homelander only. This app had applicants for a new position in the company. A position to become Homelander's personal "teddy bear", in other words, someone he could hold or someone to hold him. Most of the applicants were female and were restricted from having a photo of their face. The app only had images that were cropped to show their hands. This was to keep Homelander from picking based on bias or attraction. The bios would be as descriptive as the applicant likes, but must be approved. Many of them had short descriptions of themselves, hobbies, and what they can do. Professional and somewhat flirty.

Though Homelander was required to spend at least an hour swiping through the applicants. He just denied them all that popped up. He barely took a glance at their bios before swiping. He even found a few that had described they were married. That only made him more uninterested. He wanted whoever to be picked to give him their whole attention. He could not have that attention shared by anyone else.

It was tiring since the majority of the women just didn't settle well with him. Then there was one applicant that was different. Their bio was short. Explaining her height, age, hair, eyes, ethnicity, and lastly her availability. There was nothing more, nothing to emphasize on picking her. It intrigued Homelander the most and when he looked at the photo attached, the hands looked smooth and hydrated. Meaning the woman took care of herself or at least her skin. He swipes, accepting her application which activated a chat. The options for the chat was like a normal messaging system. The only difference was a button behind three dots to deny the applicant.

Homelander was startled as he wasn't expecting to start messaging. He thought once he chose then the woman would start working and he could meet them in person. Though it looked like he was going to speak with this new person for some time. Likely until her application gets processed and she goes through everything needing to work for Vought.

Ding

A message appeared before Homelander could even send something. It was short and made his eyebrows squeezed together in confusion.

|˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞʰⁱ

Homelander didn't know what to do in this case. He never really texted anyone. Hell he couldn't even use this smart phone till someone had to show him. Then he killed them since he couldn't have it getting out that he doesn't know how to use a smart device.

Hello.

He waited as he watched a small voice bubble pop up and disappear. It was odd how he felt watching. Almost like the moment the bubble went away he grew frustrated. Though as it came back he felt like he would be on the edge of his seat.

Thank you for swiping on my application.Is this really Homelander?

Homelander scoffs as he rolls his eyes thinking it was a ridiculous question.

Of course this is Homelander. You are to be my...

What would you even call the position? Homelander thought for a moment before he couldn't decide on what to exactly say. Then before he knew it a new message popped up before he could send a reply.

Sorry, I just am nervous. I didn't know what this position would really mean. It said I would be acting as a care taker for Homelander. I would be required to make physical contact only and whenever he asks.

I mean when you ask. Sorry.

It was amusing already. He couldn't hear her voice, but he knew this one was something else. Nervous. He wondered what kind of nervousness she was experiencing. The excitement for a new job or something more deep to her core.

Homelander had to stop himself from getting too enticed. This was just another person that kneeled before Edgar. Not him and it made this all the more irritating. Though he would like to enjoy this just a little. Maybe make a fool of the company.

That is correct sweetheart. You get to be my personal stuffed bear. Congratulations.

After a couple months of chatting back and forth on this app, Homelander had grown to learn more about smart devices. He also has developed what would be called a friendship. Though something about how he eagerly awaited messages was more of a teenage boy waiting for his crush to say hi to him.

Homelander was practically checking his phone whenever he could. Even as they were filming he would get irritated when a scene would take too long. He needed to respond as soon as the woman on the other side of the app. Their conversations had been normal questions back and forth to develop this bond, but as of late it has been throwing compliments and even soft whispers of getting to meet each other. They both knew it would be soon and that is what thrilled Homelander. He didn't know when he would get to see the woman from the app, but when he would, it would be a gift.

I hope to see you soon. I could really use someone sane right now.

He complained as he sat behind a few screens showing the scene he just did. Normally your response was quick, but it seemed to be very slow today. He wondered what might have happened or if you had found another job. He had offered to send you money for simply keeping a conversation with him, but you turned it down. It only emphasizes how much he wanted to meet you. The fact that at this point you were talking to him, just to talk with him.

So why weren't you replying to him. He was visibly getting upset the longer he watched the clock. The ticking of numbers changed to the next as he waited for a reply. It was so intense as he thought he saw you texting. He needed to say something. You needed to say something to him.

Are you there?

Are you ignoring me?

I thought everything was going well?

Say something!

His messages were becoming worrying and frantic. Homelander was feeling like he was losing something good. He didn't like it one bit. This is what always happens to him. He got up and was starting to pace back and forth as he began to spam you with messages ranging from screaming to concern.

"Fuck." He cursed as he stopped and wiped a hand through his blonde hair. The hell breaking up and letting his hair become just as disheveled as his face. "Why won't she answer me."

Homelander was ready to throw the phone when he stopped from that familiar ding. He froze as he slowly brought the screen to his face. There in blue text was your message.

Look behind you.

Confusion was painted on his face. Though it was only a second before he snapped his head back and turned his body slowly as he saw a woman. A glowing golden fabric cupping your body as it was made for you. The beauty that your features captured in such a natural way would be considered nature. He dropped his phone out of sheer shock as you began to slowly approach him. A smile dawned on your lips as you looked at him with more familiarity than anyone else there.

"Homelander, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." You were ready to extend a hand, but without warning he wrapped his arms around you.

His navy suit ruff but cushion against your cheek as he embraces you. His red gloves squeak faintly as his hands tighten against the fabric of your dress. He was holding you tightly, but not deadly. Your hands sliding up from his waist to the middle of his back as you hug him back.

"I am here Homelander." You spoke softly as he took in a deep breath. Then released it with a heavy breath. His body relaxes from your presence, a true success of your position in the company.

PT 2

[404daydreams]

Don't

Don't question my love, don't question my soul. I loved you when I was miles apart from you, when i just heard your voice, before I even saw you. Don't question my love, I loved your being, your soul before I even got to touch you. Don't question my love, I ignored every lie you said to me knowing the truth with a smile on my face. Don't question my love, I kept ruining myself in a hope of you getting better. Don't question my love, I stayed and ruined my mental health. Don't question my love, I said nothing when I discovered about your life, I let you go. Don't question my love, I was standing by my side when you were everywhere around, I still loved you.

Don't question my love, I look past every habit of yours in the disguise of mistakes. Don't question my love, I wanted to cut my hand off at one point for you, Don't question my love, I fought your family for you and when times got rough, you called them in against me, behind my back. Don't question my love, I slept with you when you came back sleeping with someone else.

Don't question my love, because no man in this world can love you the way you are, the way I do. Don't question my love because I bet my life on the fact that you cannot replicate this depth and intensity with someone else. Don't question my love, I saw things that broke me into minuscle pieces and I still kept on loving you. Don't question my love, I broke in your arms one afternoon, and I have never broken down that way ever. Don't question my love, I never begged anyone but I begged you for nothing when I deserved the things I begged for.

Don't question my love, I would had fought the world again. I would had let go of everything, healed you if you were honest enough, and never look back. Don't question my love, you never spoke to me again, I was ready to develop a full end-to-end encrypted chat app for you.

Don't question my love because I let you destroy my dreams, my love, my home for hotels.

I let you. Know that. If I didn't, you would had never and I would make you leave all that shit. I let you only to see what you choose.

And I got my answer.

Now all of this is transfused into music.

[scoutofmymind]

lovveeee your writing!! so crazy to ask but how would luigi/hasan react to the reader getting pregnant?? would they all want to raise the baby together?? 🥺🥺🥺

This isn’t crazy. Actually.. I was hoping someone would ask about this. But… maybe that makes it crazy.

Mini pregnant throuple drabble time 😋⭐️

You suppose it was inevitable.

Given the delicate precipice between desire and precaution you've all been playing.

While you've made attempts at being careful — relying on timing and tracking cycles through your app — there's an undeniable truth in how you crave the intimate completion of letting them claim you fully.

You've never hidden how much you prefer them staying inside you when they finish, the connection of it all, even knowing what such passionate abandon could eventually lead to.

Through Hasan’s open bedroom door drifts Luigi's gentle morning banter with his chat, his usual Soft Boy Hours stream where he lounges at his desk, coffee in hand, offering playful critiques of game developers and thoughtful responses to viewer questions.

Meanwhile, Hasan remains curled around you in bed, his breath warm against your neck as he holds you close; you try to focus on Luigi's voice floating in from the living room, but your attention scatters as a wave of inexplicable nausea washes over you — the third morning this week you've felt this way.

The nausea surges without warning and you wrench yourself from Hasan's embrace, his sleepy protests and grabby hands only adding to your panic. "No — let go, you fucking idiot," you gasp, fighting through the luxurious prison of pillows and tangled sheets until you tumble gracelessly from the bed.

You scramble across the floor on trembling limbs, cursing this ridiculously oversized house and its endless hallways as you desperately race to the bathroom.

By the time you reach the toilet, you're barely able to drop to your knees before your body betrays you.

The bathroom door stands wide in your wake, and within seconds both of them materialize behind you — Luigi dropping to his knees at your side while Hasan perches on the tub's edge, his warm hand finding the small of your back. "Baby, what's wrong?" Luigi's voice carries that gentle concern that usually melts you, while Hasan traces soothing circles against your spine, murmuring soft sympathies.

You want to tell them to leave, to not witness you like this, but another violent wave of nausea cuts off your protest. "I'm fucking dying.” you manage to groan between heaves, your attempt at humor falling flat as your stomach continues its rebellion.

The next few days blur together as you find yourself gravitating to the kitchen with increasing frequency, standing before the open fridge in a trance-like state while your mind spins elaborate culinary fantasies.

Every shelf holds infinite possibilities, and somehow each bizarre combination your brain conjures seems more appealing than the last — as if your taste buds have staged a rebellion against all conventional flavor pairings.

The telltale jingle of keys and footsteps approaching has you freezing mid-bite, the pickle hovering guiltily over your pint of vanilla ice cream.

You don't dare turn around, suddenly hyper-aware of how questionable your breakfast choices have become.

"Whatcha eatin’?" Hasan's fingers find your waist, playfully teasing as he peers over your shoulder.

He's radiating warmth from his morning workout, all sun-kissed skin and damp curls, the contrast between his disciplined routine and your current kitchen escapade not lost on you.

Here he is, having already conquered his morning fitness goals while you're conducting dubious culinary experiments, still in your pajamas.

His exaggerated "Ewww" echoes through the kitchen as he spots your breakfast, and you can't even muster a defense.bThe evidence is damning — a half-eaten pickle suspended over rapidly melting vanilla ice cream, looking as ridiculous as it probably tastes delicious.

"I know it looks insane," you concede, abandoning any pretense of shame as you deliberately dip the pickle back into the ice cream. "But you don't understand how perfect it-" The words dissolve into a contented hum as the unlikely combination hits your tongue again.

Hasan's palm slides warm and steady across your back, his lips brushing your temple as he watches your methodical pickle-to-ice-cream ritual with growing concern. "Please tell me Luigi got you astronomically high, because that's the only acceptable explanation I’ll take." His tone carries equal parts amusement and horror as you continue your rhythmic dipping — pickle, ice cream, mouth, repeat — while meeting his gaze with what you hope is innocent conviction.

"Completely sober," you mumble around another bite, knowing full well this admission only makes everything worse. "Just. Dunno, really good, somehow?"

Luigi shuffles into the kitchen like a zombie seeking caffeine, performing his morning cold brew routine on autopilot until that first blessed sip brings him back to life.

His eyes finally focus on your ongoing crime, coffee cup freezing halfway to his mouth as his brain processes the scene. "What the fuck?" His free hand gestures wildly between you and your breakfast, face contorting in theatrical disgust. "No — absolutely not. What is happening right now?"

Neither of them have connected the dots yet — the morning sickness, the strange cravings, your body's sudden rebellion against all conventional taste combinations.

Even you haven't fully processed the possibility, though somewhere in the back of your mind, a calendar is slowly being counted backward, pieces of a puzzle you weren't ready to solve starting to click quietly into place.

Luigi's hand finds your knee as he navigates through traffic, the gesture automatic and comforting while your thoughts scatter like autumn leaves in the wind.

Hasan's absence feels heavier than usual — his first extended trip to Japan since you all came together, leaving an emptiness that seems more pronounced with each passing day. "Your period tracking app keeps sending me those missed cycle alerts," Luigi mentions casually, stealing a quick glance your way as he merges lanes. “Can you log it so my phone will leave me alone?”

Your fingers tremble slightly as you pull up the app — the one you'd shared with both of them months ago, mostly so they could brace themselves for your hormonal storms, which usually included lashing out on either, or both of them at least once.

As you tap through the familiar interface, your breath catches sharply in your throat. The words stare back at you, bold and unambiguous.

Your period is two weeks late.

Suddenly, every strange craving, every morning spent hugging the toilet, every inexplicable emotional surge slots into place like pieces of a puzzle you hadn't known you were solving.

"And neither of you thought to mention this before now?" The words tumble out with more accusation than intended as you turn to Luigi, who merely shrugs while guiding the car down the winding coastal road, ocean glimpses flashing between the trees.

His response carries that particular brand of careful nonchalance that you know masks deeper thoughts, "babe, it's your period. Wasn't really our place to point it out." The gentle rationality of his answer only makes your heart race faster as the implications continue to unfold.

And that’s when you knew.

The bathroom feels impossibly small with both you and Luigi crowded inside, even despite its generous size.

The pregnancy test sits heavy in your palm while your bladder protests the wait, but something about this moment feels too important to rush.

Your phone rests against the marble soap dispenser on a FaceTime call, Hasan’s tired face illuminated by the soft glow of Japanese sunrise filtering through his hotel blinds, while here, California's sunset paints the bathroom in warm amber tones through frosted windows — a reminder of the distance currently between you.

"God, I should be there," Hasan's voice carries that particular strain of longing that makes your chest ache, the twelve-hour time difference feeling more cruel than ever.

His eyes are soft with sleep and something deeper as he watches you both through the screen, his usual commanding presence somehow both diminished and intensified by the digital divide. "Miss you both so fucking much," he adds quietly, and you can hear in his voice how badly he wishes he could reach through the screen, could be here holding your hand instead of watching from half a world away.

The weight of this moment feels heavier knowing how often Hasan's voice would soften late at night, confessing his deepest wishes between sheets and shadows to yourself and Luigi — “I know the world's a fuckin’ mess," he'd murmur, fingers tracing abstract patterns on warm skin, "but something in me still wants kids."

Those vulnerable admissions would always carry a hint of guilt, as if wanting to create life in such uncertain times was somehow selfish, yet the longing in his voice would betray how deeply he yearned for it.

Luigi's approach had always been more measured, more distant — though you'd caught glimpses of something warmer in his eyes whenever Hasan would spin his paternal fantasies.

He'd never actively voiced his own desires, but there was a telling gentleness in how he'd engage with Hasan's dreams, adding little details to their shared imaginings of future possibilities, his usual sardonic edge softening just enough to reveal the careful hope he kept buried beneath his practiced indifference.

Your fingers tremble as they find Luigi's, his steady presence beside you on the cool tile floor anchoring you as the test sits waiting.

The enormity of this moment has your pulse racing beneath your skin as you try to steady your voice. "We considered waiting for you to get back, Has, but seven more days felt.." You trail off, unable to find words for how impossible that wait would have felt.

"Don't even think about it," Hasan's voice comes through soft and sleep-rough, but even through the pixelated screen, you can see the emotion swimming in his dark eyes. “It’d drive you crazy.”

His digital presence feels like a ghost of what should be — in any other circumstance, he'd be right there with Luigi, claiming his usual spot on the bathtub's edge, his warm palm finding the small of your back.

Instead, he watches through a screen, thousands of miles and twelve time zones away, trying to be as present as technology allows while clearly aching to close the physical distance between the three of you.

The test grows heavy in your trembling hands as you sit frozen in this final moment of uncertainty, until your body makes the decision for you.

There's an odd sense of surreality as you cap the test and position it before Hasan's watchful digital presence — this small plastic stick that holds the power to reshape your entire existence.

The familiar routine of washing your hands feels strangely profound, water rushing over your fingers in what might be the last ordinary moment before everything shifts irrevocably, your reflection in the mirror showing someone caught between who they were and who you know they're about to become.

Luigi can't contain himself any longer, closing the distance to cradle your face between his palms as you sink onto the closed toilet lid.

His thumbs trace gentle paths across your cheekbones, his voice dropping to that tender register reserved for your most vulnerable moments. "I see how scared you are," he murmurs, catching a tear before it can fall. "But you're not alone in this — not for a single second. Whatever happens, the three of us face it together, just like we always have." The fierce certainty in his whispered promise makes your heart clench, even as more tears escape your weary eyes. "Everything, baby. We're here for all of it."

You press your lips to Luigi's palms, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his skin, before turning your attention to the phone.

Hasan's expression has transformed completely — his earlier drowsiness replaced by something electric, his smile stretching so wide it seems to barely fit his face.

Yet somehow, his joy is so overwhelming that you can't quite decode what it means.

"Can you see it?" Luigi shifts carefully, trying to glimpse the results without disturbing the test's position in front of the camera, but before he can get a proper look, Hasan's entire demeanor shifts.

He sits up abruptly in his hotel bed, flicking on a lamp that bathes him in warm light, his face absolutely luminous with barely-contained excitement.

The sleepy softness from moments ago has evaporated, replaced by something almost incandescent.

"Why don't you check for yourself, Papa?"

[icqmuseum24]

📞💔 To our great regret, following in the footsteps of Russia’s VK Group and its quiet farewell to ICQ, Microsoft has now officially shut down Skype — a true legend of the 2000s internet era. What once defined how we connected, called, and chatted across the globe has been silenced… not by users, but by boardroom decisions.

💻 Skype wasn't just software — it was a cultural milestone. It brought faces to voices, bridged continents in seconds, and made "Skyping" a verb in dozens of languages. Its shutdown is not just sad — it's irreplaceable. Another digital monument lost to corporate fatigue.

📉 This only proves one thing: well-paid marketers and project managers have repeatedly failed to breathe new life into legacy platforms. Instead of adapting tradition to modern times, they let icons wither. And for what? Another feature-bloated app with no soul?

🌐 But we haven’t lost hope. If Winamp can rise from the ashes, why not Skype? Why not AIM? Why not ICQ? Maybe, just maybe, it won’t be Microsoft or VK who lead the resurrection — maybe it’ll be an indie developer or a bold startup that understands nostalgia can be modern.

👀 Paging Yahoo Inc. and AOL… We’re waiting.