#fully managed software development | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaflixer · 3 months ago

Text

campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused.

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

3K notes · View notes

techav · 3 months ago

Text

Looking Back

Today, 26 March 2025, is the tenth anniversary of the first time I put power to a Z80 microprocessor in a breadboard and watched it blink some LEDs.

Within a few weeks that Z80 would be completely surrounded by other chips and hundreds of wires to form my first functioning homebrew computer.

Another week and I was already removing a 68000 from a (presumed) dead motherboard, with grand ideas of moving up to the 16-bit era (but absolutely no understanding of what that would entail)

It would be another two years before the first time I put that 68000 in a breadboard and successfully used it to blink an LED.

By the time another year had rolled around that 68000 was living on a soldered breadboard and for the first time on one of my projects, it was running real software — EhBASIC.

Always looking to more challenging projects, while I was building with a 68000, I was already reading through the manual for the 68030 trying to understand how to build with a proper 32-bit microprocessor. Just one more year and I had that 68030 on a wire wrap board, blinking an LED.

The next year I was doing the most ridiculous thing I could think of — free-running a Pentium CPU on a wire wrap breadboard to blink an LED. Because I could.

By the end of the next year that 68030 had moved from its wire wrap board onto a proper printed circuit board — my first ever 4-layer PCB.

The next year saw the towering expansion of the 68030 build, adding new peripherals and functionality.

Another year and I had an all-new 68030 build on a Micro-ATX form-factor motherboard developed in just a couple months ahead of VCF Southwest 2023.

The next year I focused on developing software for my existing 68030 board stack, rather than building something new from scratch. I succeeded in developing a minimal multi-user kernel to run four instances of BASIC simultaneously.

All along in between working on these projects I have done component-level repairs on various computers, developed expansion cards for the Mac SE, built PCs both new and old, burned out hard, developed some smaller homebrew computers, had a lot of false starts, failed projects, and abandoned projects, and completed some massive projects in my day job.

Looking back at everything I've worked on over these past 10 years I am absolutely amazed at how far I have come and what I have been able to accomplish. Much of it I still don't understand how I managed to actually pull it off, and I'm not entirely sure I could duplicate my successes.

Here's to the next ten years

#homebrew computing #homebrew computer #retro computing #retrocomputing #ten years #learning new things #zilog z80 #motorola 68k

81 notes · View notes

jackied0minguez · 4 months ago

Text

Remote Work Redefined: TopDevz CEO Ashkan Rajaee on the Future of Flexible Business

In a world where remote work has rapidly shifted from a temporary solution to a long-term strategy, TopDevz CEO Ashkan Rajaee is leading by example. Speaking ahead of the Ft. Lauderdale International Boat Show, Rajaee shared insights on how his company has seamlessly integrated remote operations into its DNA—and why he believes this model isn’t just a passing trend.

A New Kind of Software Solutions

TopDevz isn’t your typical tech firm. Comprising an elite team of software developers, designers, project managers, and quality assurance specialists based in the United States and Canada, the company tackles the unique challenges that conventional off-the-shelf software can’t resolve. Rajaee explains that while standard solutions can cover 80–90% of business needs, the remaining nuances often cause significant inefficiencies. TopDevz fills this gap by offering custom solutions designed to address those critical details, ensuring that their clients achieve peak operational efficiency. With an impressive 96% workforce retention rate and 63% of their business coming through referrals, the company’s model speaks volumes about its effectiveness and employee satisfaction.

Mastering Remote Operations

Long before the global pivot to remote work, TopDevz was already thriving in a fully virtual environment. Rajaee emphasizes that the success of remote operations lies in having the right infrastructure and clear communication channels. “Working remotely isn’t as simple as logging in from home,” he notes. “It demands disciplined processes and a commitment to best practices—elements we’ve honed over the years.” His team’s seamless transition during the pandemic only reinforced the idea that a well-organized remote workforce can outperform traditional office setups.

The Indefinite Future of Remote Work

For TopDevz, remote work isn’t a temporary workaround—it’s the future. Rajaee envisions a business landscape where companies can lower overhead costs while empowering employees to work from anywhere. This flexible model not only drives client satisfaction by reducing expenses but also enriches employees’ lives by allowing them to choose environments that inspire creativity and well-being.

Rajaee even shares a personal touch: his passion for working from a yacht. Equipped with reliable Wi-Fi and satellite services, his unconventional workspace symbolizes the freedom that remote work offers. “If your current job doesn’t support the lifestyle you aspire to, it’s time to consider other opportunities,” he advises. His own journey from renting a yacht to eventually making it part of his regular work life underscores the importance of aligning one’s career with personal values and ambitions.

Empowering the Next Generation of Remote Entrepreneurs

Beyond leading TopDevz, Rajaee is passionate about sharing his remote work philosophy. Through his “RemotePreneur” initiative, he provides aspiring entrepreneurs and professionals with a playbook for building successful remote companies. This resource addresses the nuanced challenges of remote business management—from overcoming financial stagnation in traditional roles to confronting the inevitable criticisms that come with venturing off the beaten path. Rajaee’s message is clear: true freedom in work comes from rethinking established norms and embracing the possibilities that remote operations can offer.

Embracing a New Era

As businesses around the globe continue to navigate the evolving work landscape, Ashkan Rajaee’s vision serves as a powerful reminder that remote work, when executed with precision and passion, can unlock unprecedented opportunities. His leadership at TopDevz demonstrates that with the right approach, remote operations can not only sustain but also drive innovation, employee satisfaction, and overall business growth.

In a time when flexibility and adaptability are more important than ever, Rajaee’s insights offer a compelling roadmap for companies eager to thrive in a remote-first world.

#RemoteWork #FutureOfWork #AshkanRajaee #TopDevz #WorkFromAnywhere

44 notes · View notes

steamberrystudio · 18 days ago

Note

hi!! sorry if this is an obvious answer, but have you ever considered writing a blog about how you develop your games? as an aspiring developer myself, i find your works to be very inspiring (i’ve been following since changeling came out!!) and have been wondering about your development process + how you manage to keep track of different story lines per LI (like in the case of gilded shadows)!

i hope that made sense haha. either way as a final note, just want to say thank you for all the hard work! your games are amazing. i hope you are having a wonderful timezone 🥰

I actually do have a lot of write ups about various topics - though I also just talk a lot about my process in my various devlogs on Itch or here on tumblr.

When it comes to more complicated breakdowns, my issue is really more about the most effective way to break it down - like whether it should be a text wall with visuals or a presentation with slides and a voice over/transcript, etc. I've been stuck on that for a long time, so a lot of the write ups have kind of stalled. (Sometimes the subject is just really complicated as well - such as the function of choices in VNs and breaking down how we use choices and why statements like 'the choices matter!!' are meaningless as standalone statements).

When it comes to tracking story lines, if I can be honest - tracking those in a game like Gilded Shadows where the routes all have separate stories, is quite easy for me. I didn't do anything in particular to keep track of those. I planned everything separately and just referred back to previous routes if I needed to check continuity of lore or actually make edits to existing routes to account for newly created lore for whatever route I was working on. Each route had between 15 - 20 variables I had to keep track of for various choices but because none of those were relevant to any other route but the one I was working on, I didn't even need a spreadsheet for it. I'd just refer back to the previous choices.

(I always write each route as a fully separate Scrivener project because they're so long that by the 4th or 5th route, Scrivener really starts struggling if they're all in one project.)

If you're struggling to keep track of things, though, I always recommend breaking things into separate well-labelled files and use spreadsheets. Obsidian and Scrivener are really great for breaking a project down in a way you can hop between story lines, or routes or scenes more easily. And Plottr is a software that lets you plan things out by individual story lines and scenes.

Writing for a game with connected or overlapping routes like When Stars Collide is, for me, way more difficult than a game like GS. A game like Gilded Shadows seems deceptively hard because there are so many love interests and it's so long. And I won't say that there were never times I had to scrounge around in the routes to check continuity related things. But the freedom that comes with a cohesive setting but separate story lines and timelines can't be, in my mind, overstated. Things that happened in Ari's route, for example, didn't necessarily happen (or get mentioned anyway) in other routes. And nothing *affected* the other routes. It was all self-contained. The self-contained aspect of those routes makes them much easier to manage because you're only dealing with one story line, one relationship, and one set of events at a time. So even though that game is nearly twice as long as WSC, it was much, much easier to write.

As an example - I said that each route in GS had about 15 - 20 specific choice-based variables I had to remember. I think it came out to around 190 in total. But I only had to work with 15 - 20 of them at a time. That was all I had to remember in the process of drafting each route.

But in WSC, there are over 200, yes. So there are a few more. But because the routes all overlap and share a single common story trunk if you will - I have to work with and try to remember all 200+ variables *at the same time.* All the routes affect each other and intertwine with each other. Both continuity and variables are so much harder to manage.

So...I have to have a variable spreadsheet. It tracks where a variable is set (route and scene), what its default is, what it potentially gets set to and *where it gets referred back to.*

But none of that was really necessary for Gilded Shadows. I created the lore for the setting as a whole then planned each route within that lore but largely in isolation from the others. I'd just go back and pick out whatever information I needed for continuity across the story lines.

Anyway, to go back to the original ask - some day I may be able to condense these sorts of things down into posts. I just have to decide what format is more consumable for people. 💖💖

#asks #game development #writing stuff

17 notes · View notes

otherside-wanderer · 11 months ago

Text

Hybrid sorter hub and its three branches - read more about its structure, how it works, and the development process below the cut!

General Structure

For this survival world, my friends and I decided to split up our resources in three different branches, all connected by one central hub. The fourth "branch" is an access hallway (not shown) that contains minecart rail stations. As of now, only one station is built, but the hallway also contains a room where any unsorted items flow out to - this room also contains its own sorter input!

You might notice redstone bulbs in the copper pillars along each hallway - activating these will reveal both a crafting table and stonecutter at the base of the pillar for easy crafting access. Also, the three branches have their own quirks since they were each organized and completed by a different builder - see if you can spot any differences (aside from the items being sorted)!

Redstone & Underbelly

During development, we decided that the sorter didn't need to be fully automatic like our last one - instead, we wanted a way to combine automatic and manual sorting, hence this hybrid design. Only the top rows (and about a dozen barrels in the middle and bottom rows) along each branch leverage automatic sorting - this was to simplify the sorter design and allow for better scalability. This is also why some of our most plentiful items are placed on the top row. We love Minecraft updates, but adding new blocks and items to a sorter can be tough!

Including manual sorting allows us to store unstackables as well as different kinds of items in the same barrel. Although there are some great designs out there for unstackable or multi-item sorters, we wanted this build to be our own and not have to worry about chunk alignment, minecarts, or having to construct it with build assist tools. If you're interested in the redstone for our automatic sorter modules, check out this post about our previous sorter! Our current one applies the concepts in similar ways.

Like our last sorter, @shewholistens has been doing an amazing job standardizing and decorating the Underbelly, which is still in progress. Having all of our sorter modules and hopper lines accessible (and good-looking) is such a boon, especially when doing work behind the scenes. Currently, the Underbelly is accessible via hidden doors at the end of each branch!

Development process

This was a big project. Since building our last sorter, we learned a lot about what works and what doesn't, and decided to carry that knowledge over to this one. In our new world, we put together a document detailing things we wanted in our sorter and how they would all fit together. These included item organization, a hybrid sorting system, input and output chests, crafting access points, a player-friendly underbelly, and - of course - decoration.

This prep work was by far the most important part of the sorter building process, and it allowed us to break the project into small, manageable pieces. It reminded me a lot of the work I do as a software engineer, and it was so exciting to see the sorter get built module by module, branch by branch.

Before I forget - huge thanks to @indigoforiver for convincing me that we needed a sorter! Our chest/shulker monster was... very bad...

#minecraft #survival #sorting system #redstone #architecture #art #shaders #complementary shaders #mineblr #minecraft build #my build

66 notes · View notes

conjugate-wumbo · 3 months ago

Text

throwing these carcar wips out into the ether to make sure I actually finish some of them:

loud places

oscar is a pure empath - he can feel what others are feeling around him, acutely if they touch him. it's all very overwhelming all the time, so as a form of exposure therapy, he spends every friday night at a nightclub. the rest of the week feels tolerable after a night of overstimulation. one such night he hooks up with a handsome stranger who doesn't callously discard him at the end of the night like the others. handsome stranger takes care of him, gives him a snack, and pays for his uber back home, all the while radiating genuine caring energy. said stranger also shows up at oscar's workplace on monday morning. "meet your new manager, carlos." shenanigans ensue.

the 24-year-old brain cannot comprehend this

after a year of crushing hard on carlos, oscar and carlos are finally in the beginnings of dating - the really-getting-to-know-each-other phase. unfortunately oscar is still 23-24 and has smashed peas in place of a fully developed prefrontal cortex, making him immature, insecure, and toxic. carlos realizes oscar is not ready for this yet and breaks things off, leaving oscar in an even messier state. oscar has to learn to grow up a bit before they can get their happy ending. aka join me on an autobiographical tour of my worst aura moments!

across the stars

star wars prequel era au. carlos is a newly promoted jedi knight, and oscar is his former master's (fernando) new padawan. (in my headcanon, force-sensitive kids do the youngling group training until like middle school age, and then they become padawans - obviously i'm trying to mirror the grid kid oscar vs debut gp carlos dynamic.) kind of a slice of life coming of age together + plus secret romance in the shadows. tempted to make this a tragedy à la order 66 ending.

hex

major age difference but not in the way you think. oscar is a 90-year-old vampire. carlos works the night security shift at a museum to supplement his meager stipend as an art history grad student. carlos falls first, but oscar falls harder. cue existential crises about life and immortality and can you tell i was watching interview with the vampire when this idea struck me.

enterprise risk management

workplace au. oscar is a meticulous, per the policy, by the book, senior accountant at a major nonprofit. carlos is the big personality applications manager in IT. they have to work together on the implementation of a new accounting software, and carlos's seemingly lax attitude just drives oscar up the wall. oscar is glad when the impementation is over. until he inexplicably misses carlos. so oscar starts trying to invent issues with the software as an excuse to get carlos to come over to his desk. ("stop inventing.")

cerulean himbo sunshine

coffee shop / tattoo parlour au. light and fluffy (hopefully). carlos runs a hip local coffee shop down the street from the tattoo collective oscar just joined. carlos is super annoying, always singing along to his stupid playlist, and worse he's already friends with everyone at the tattoo collective so oscar is alone in his annoyance. but carlos has is fair share of annoyances about oscar too - for instance, why does he never order an actual coffee? classic reluctant acquaintances to lovers. picturing carlos as the titular himbo.

outdoor school

oscar and carlos are grad students who have to spend the summer as camp counselors as part of their outreach project. and they're forced to share a tiny cabin. honestly this writes itself, i have mo excuse not to finish it. i guess i just love writing them as grad students.

plus a few more that are just barely ideas that i'm too tired to include here.

#carcar #my wips

45 notes · View notes

metalheadsagainstfascism · 4 months ago

Text

Changed the name of the blog

"BUT FAE! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?!"

Well in my break a lot of stuff has been happening... obviously. I mean... *motions vaguely*

I got threatened by multiple gay people for telling them that Trump didn't care about them just because they were weren't the flavored flavor of queer. In several different gay communities too.

And a lot has been happening in my life... hence the break. I was on meds that I had a horrible reaction to for 5 months and it took a year after being off them for the hormonal side effects to go away. But I've also been introspecting. Me... my life goals.. this blog.. what I want to do with it.. what I have have been doing...

And you know, I originally created it to just be like.. yelling and venting about "What the fuck!?! Racism in my 2023!?!" But then people started following it. And I kinda felt some kind of way, and I still haven't put words to exactly what I felt, but I definitely felt that I owed something to the black community being a black lives matter blog with followers to try to get educated because like... logically I knew but knowing and understanding are two different things.

But like... that wasn't the right call because like... I don't really know how to like... understand better? That doesn't make sense... like I'm never gonna fully get it, I know that, but I've never been allowed to listen and learn because in my communities people just push me aside and assume I don't know shit, so the only thing I know how to do is try to prove my worth and fight for my seat at the table.

And that's fucked up of me. Ya know? Like I just had an argument with someone as a software developer about why the DOGE team is a national security threat, and people won't even listen to me about software security, and literally all I know is conversations like that. Where I gotta prove that I know what I'm talking about. Conversations where I don't? The shutting up and listening? The active listening? The communicating what I learned not as my words but words of someone else? I don't know that. Fuck, I don't even know if the words that I just wrote is the write thing that I should have done.

Excuse? Explanation? I dunno. But I think it's more responsible for me to like... switch gears. I can still talk about Black issues here. Racism is a gear in fascism. But this way I can also be more responsible and not try to force something that I clearly do not have the skillset to manage.

Fuck Trump

-fae (formerly metalheadsforblacklivesmatter)

21 notes · View notes

lnsynth · 4 months ago

Note

O GREAT PFX LIKER CAN U EXPLAIN THE DISCONTINUATION THING TO ME PLS 💔💔

Sure thing! I’ll tell you everything I know— (under the cut because it’s kind of long lol)

In 2017, PowerFX distanced itself from Vocaloid and Vocaloid development after the CEO of the time Bil Bryant left, announcing that they would no longer be making new Vocaloids. Bil was pretty much what was keeping PFX on Vocaloid and without him, the rest of PFX had no interest in more Vocaloids. Around that time, I believe PowerFX stopped selling physicals and their site basically only sold the download versions of their Vocaloids. PowerFX moved to focus on their new project, Soundation, which is an online DAW that was more profitable for them than the Vocaloids. Soundation managed the PowerFX website and provided support for the Vocaloids/Vocaloid sales and maintained the distribution for the next few years, though their ability to maintain quick and consistent support kind of got worse as the years went on. (This was honestly kind of a sign that the discontinuation of sales would occur soon…)

Historically, PowerFX’s Vocaloids were also sold on Sonicwire (Crypton’s site for selling Vocaloids and other music software), though I believe PFX/Soundation doesn’t manage the sales of the banks on this storefront. Sometime in either 2023 or 2024, Big Al’s bank indefinitely went out of stock and you were no longer able to purchase it. I found out a little bit ago that if you are able to find his product page that it mentions that the product is discontinued, so I believe that there’s no plans on Sonicwire’s end to restock Al (or that they can’t.)

Earlier this month, members of the Vocaloid community noticed that PFX’s site had gone down and now redirected to Soundation’s site. We didn’t really know why, or if it was temporary or something else. We found out today that Soundation added a new piece to their site that basically explains that maintaining the sales of their Vocaloids is basically no longer feasible for their team and that they will no longer sell them and have no plans to sell them again in the future. They also say that their Vocaloid software was pretty outdated and there’s no real incentive to continue to sell them. So basically Soundation confirmed that PFX/Soundation will no longer sell their Vocaloid voicebanks.

As for now, 4/5 of the PFXloids are still available on Sonicwire, though I heard that Sweet Ann is out of stock too. Unless they manage to restock her, it’s likely she will be completely unable to be purchased too, like Big Al. Note that Vocaloids seem to have limited stock of serial codes, I think they have to get new ones from Yamaha or another party (not entirely sure about this stuff, but I just know that stocks of serial codes are limited.) Since Ann and Al are out of stock, it’s very likely that Oliver, Hio, and Ruby will also go out of stock on Sonicwire sometime soon too.

While technically not fully discontinued as some of the banks are still available on Sonicwire, the PFXloids are very likely to be fully discontinued soon!

There is hope for future banks though, if you’re interested in that, as the team behind Maghni AI is still working on Oliver AI and are very likely to also make Maghni banks for Ruby, Sweet Ann, and Big Al, as teased in their indiegogo campaign. No new voicebank is planned for YOHIOloid right now though due to the 2021 controversy with his voice provider, though VocaTone never super officially said that they wouldn’t update Hio (they highly implied that they wouldn’t on their personal social medias, but I couldn’t find an official statement on their business accounts stating such.)

Basically—PowerFX’s Vocaloid sales are now over and will not be returning. You may still be able to purchase some of the banks on Sonicwire, but likely not for long. 4/5 of the characters are planned to get an update to Maghni AI.

#vocaloid #powerfx #sweet ann vocaloid #vocaloid sweet ann #big al vocaloid #vocaloid big al #big al #oliver vocaloid #vocaloid oliver #yohioloid #ruby vocaloid #vocaloid ruby #sweet ann

23 notes · View notes

mychlapci · 11 months ago

Note

reading that Tarantulas and Prowl processor overload ask has revived one of my recently dormant fetishes

(this is an expansion on the forced porn download ask actually, wasn't really done b4 sending)

Prowl's archives just being a massive database of miscellaneous data, which seems like a fully practical thing that he'd do for simulation work at first glance, but in truth, he just never deletes anything because he gets off to the feeling of being just sooooo full in places no physical sensation can reach.

He wasn't always like this, you see. Prowl used to maintain good software management habits. He'd defrag according to a strict schedule, used connection buffers often and cleared his processing queues before recharge. He would never think twice about netdiving into shady websites with nasty popups, let alone download anything from there. But eventually, as his processors develop at that exponential pace his handlers noticed upon bringing him online, Prowl got bolder.

Bold enough to make a slip up and plug into a corrupt mainframe, triggering that forced download and kickstarting his fetish for good. He barely remembers anything about that incident other than an overwhelming mental barrage of arousal. Sometimes Prowl wonders if his colleagues at the time knew just what was literally going through his head as he slumped over on the console, seizing in place as they frantically tried to disconnect him safely. Maybe they caught the scent of his overload under his panels, and chose not to say anything.

Prowl would of course say that he was perfectly fine after that incident, but he'd be haunted by that instance of utter bliss he'd felt when like 30 terrabytes of ERP chatlogs and erotic flashgames burned through his neural circuitry. Eventually, he'd start by visiting a library. Full of clean and safe data to indulge in. Then he started logging all non-confidential precinct data, like routine security footage that's get deleted anyways, and dispatch call recordings. Then he started downloading from legal websites, then onto not so legal ones.

He even has backup and extra hard drives stored in his office and habisuite in plain sight, since no one else but other archivists and data specialists would catch on to his kink in the first place. Every once in a while, he'd plug himself into all these units and just let all that data flood through him, his fans and cooling systems squealing in effort to keep up with the deluge of information forcing it's way through his staticy brain, reducing his overclocked cognitive units into jello as his RAM gets consumed by pure uncontrollable math.

He loves the feel of his mind being pounded by googols of nonsense, it makes him hornier than anything else. He'd save anything from the internet, books and numeric databases are his usual go tos; high definition media are a must, the more graphically and audially intensive the better; the most unoptimized and performance heavy video games, anything that would fill up his hungry battle computer until it's full to bursting and melting.

Sometimes when he feels extra naughty, he'd even fire up the various malware and viruses the Spec Ops team would bring back, on top of all the seedy ones he'd find online. He'd trigger them in his processor and lie back in his berth, finger his fluttering pussy and feel the malicious software start tearing through his brain as his battle computer instinctively fights back, making him feel soooo hot all over. And every time he overloads, it sweeps all of his progress, and the self cleaning protocols will just have to restart as he writhes helplessly in the dark of his room.

Software sanctity? Fuck that, he'd hit anything as long as it demolishes his brain and make him into a silly, messy, spasming horny mess. A real dataslut.

god this is so good. He's quite literally overloading his processor out. It's almost like an addiction. Of course, Prowl could stop any time he wants... he could, he just doesn't want to! After a while, pumping his head full of junk data and malicious viruses is the only way Prowl can even have a fulfilling orgasm. Being full of miscellaneous data is just not enough. It's a pleasant pressure in his constantly calculating brain, yes, but if he wants to cum, he needs something stronger. He'll keep frying his brain inside of his helm as long as he gets to feel that electrifying thrill of his battle computer struggling to deflect the attacks on his mainframe.

It feels like he's falling apart at the circuits, delicate wiring so hot that it's disintegrating into dust, and all he can do is frantically rub his soaking wet valve through it all, optics bright and staring off into space as his HUD floods with nonsense. All his senses are completely taken over by the foreign malware, all he knows is that he feels so good.

Honestly, I wonder what would happen if he got stuck like that. Just for a day or two. And someone had to find him in his apartment, face twisted in pure bliss as his frame keeps twitching even after countless hours of continuous overloads. Of course, Prowl's processor gets cleaned out after that, yet he can't help but want to repeat it... to feel so absolutely stuffed and overwhelmed with data that he's just a wet, helpless thing. To give up control and let his processor sink into endless pleasure.

But for now, he's got a morning shift at the precinct to finish.

#valveplug #what do i even tag here #plug'n'play #texty

50 notes · View notes

lightdancingwords · 4 months ago

Text

Crossroads of the Heart - Part Fifteen of ?

Pairings: CJ Braxton x Y/N Female reader

Series Summary: Y/N is a psychology major assigned to shadow CJ at The Stand, unaware he's the one who basically saved her life four years before. CJ is unaware that she's the one who left a notable impact on him over the phone four years ago. As they navigate the work at The Stand, they develop a spark that demands revelation and connection.

Word Count: 5,949

Tags/Warnings: Some fluff, angst (I guess?)

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Evidently my muse won't shut up, so here we go! A new story in a new setting! I hope you all enjoy!

Dividers: credit to @saradika-graphics

Chapter Fifteen: Power

The Stand was still in shambles, but progress was finally being made.

The construction crew had managed to rewire the power correctly—without cutting another crucial cable—and most of the computers were back up and running. The volunteers were handling the transition as best they could, with some still working remotely while others adjusted to the lingering noise of drills and hammers echoing from the hallways.

And Miles, miraculously, had not actually combusted.

Mostly thanks to Gabby.

CJ watched from across the office as Gabby, ever the agent of chaos, continued to hover around Miles, insisting on keeping his stress levels in check—whether he liked it or not.

“You know,” Gabby mused, leaning against his desk, “you should really try deep breathing. Or yoga.”

Miles shot her a flat look, adjusting his glasses. “I will literally code you out of the system if you don’t leave me alone.”

Gabby gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “How dare you! After everything I’ve done for you?”

“You mean ruin my life?”

“Miles!” Gabby swatted his arm, and CJ actually had to bite back a laugh at the sheer suffering on Miles’ face.

“This is my nightmare,” Miles muttered under his breath.

CJ shook his head before turning his attention back to his actual job.

He stood by the main workstation, overseeing the remaining equipment shifts, while Priya checked off tasks from the operations list.

“All right,” she said, tapping her pen against the clipboard. “We’re finally down to just a few more adjustments. The doors are fully rewired, the badge system is almost ready to go live, and IT is still working on making sure the software is functioning correctly.”

“Meaning?” CJ asked.

“Meaning,” Priya said with a smirk, “you can maybe stop looking like you want to strangle the entire construction team.”

CJ exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “No promises.”

Y/N approached then, stepping beside him, her presence immediately grounding him. “How are we looking?” she asked.

“Better than this morning,” CJ admitted. “Which, to be fair, is a low bar.”

Y/N chuckled, giving him a teasing nudge. “You love this place, admit it.”

CJ shot her a look. “I love you. This place? Questionable.”

Y/N grinned. “I’ll take it.”

Priya, watching their exchange with mild amusement, shook her head. “You two are disgustingly adorable.”

“Jealous?” Y/N teased.

“Not even a little,” Priya said dryly. “But it’s good to know that when the world inevitably collapses, CJ will still be flirting with you in the rubble.”

CJ smirked. “Damn right, I will.”

Before Y/N could respond, a loud beeping sound filled the office.

“What now?” Miles groaned, turning toward the sudden alarm coming from one of the security panels.

One of the contractors rushed over, looking mildly concerned. “Uh, okay, so… the new system is a little more sensitive than we thought.”

“Define ‘a little,’” CJ said, already dreading the answer.

“Well…” the guy hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It may have just triggered a lockdown sequence.”

CJ stared. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing major!” the contractor quickly added. “Just a test protocol. Doors will remain locked until IT clears the alert.”

Miles muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “kill me now.”

“How long will that take?” Priya asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Uh…” The contractor checked his tablet. “About three hours?”

CJ groaned. “Of course it will.”

Gabby, ever the optimist, clapped her hands together. “Ooo, so we’re trapped! How fun!”

Miles turned to her, exasperated. “How are you like this?”

Gabby grinned. “Natural talent.”

CJ sighed, rubbing his temples. “This day will never end, will it?”

Y/N patted his arm. “But look on the bright side, babe. At least the power’s working now.”

CJ exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I hate how low our standards have gotten.”

Y/N laughed, leaning into him slightly. “But you love me anyway.”

CJ smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Damn right, I do.”

Priya sighed, flipping the last page of the schedule. “All right. Until the power company gets us out of here, we might as well get some actual work done.”

“Or,” Gabby said brightly, “we could play a game!”

Miles looked horrified. “Please no.”

As the Stand remained locked down with no escape, CJ closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

This was his life.

And, honestly?

He wouldn’t change it for anything.

By the time evening rolled around, the worst of the chaos had finally settled.

The security system was fully installed, the power was officially stable, and IT had lifted the temporary lockdown. The last of the construction crew had packed up their tools and left, and for the first time in days, The Stand actually felt like itself again—no loud drilling, no power surges, no construction workers accidentally cutting crucial wires.

CJ stood near the front, hands on his hips, scanning the office like a man assessing battle damage.

"Well," Priya said, stepping beside him, "miraculously, no one died."

"Yet," Miles muttered, still typing furiously at his station. "I'm still debating if I need to commit a murder."

Gabby patted his arm cheerfully. "Aw, babe, you love it here."

Miles didn't even look up. "I actively hate it here."

Gabby beamed. "Right, but in a loving way."

CJ shook his head, amused. "Honestly? This could have been worse."

Priya shot him a dry look. "CJ, we had a power outage, an accidental lockdown, and Miles nearly went into cardiac arrest."

"And yet," CJ countered, smirking, "this still isn't the worst day we've had."

Priya sighed, rubbing her temple. "You make a concerningly good point."

Y/N appeared at CJ’s side then, slipping her arm through his and leaning into him. "So, do I get to officially say ‘I told you so’?"

CJ glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow. "About what?"

Y/N grinned. "That things would work out."

CJ exhaled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "Fine. You get to say it."

Y/N beamed. "Told you so."

CJ smirked, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Yeah, yeah."

Across the room, Gabby clapped her hands together. "Okay, so now that this day is officially over, I vote that we celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Miles asked, finally looking up from his computer. "We barely survived."

"Exactly," Gabby said brightly. "Survival deserves celebration!"

Priya rolled her eyes but smirked. "What do you have in mind?"

"Food, obviously," Gabby said, already pulling out her phone. "And drinks. And a toast to not having to deal with construction ever again."

CJ hummed. "That last part feels optimistic."

Y/N grinned, nudging him. "Don’t jinx it."

As their shift wrapped up, the evening crew arrived, seamlessly taking over as the daytime team gathered their things. The Stand never really closed—there was always someone here, always calls coming in, always someone on the other end of the line who needed to hear that they weren’t alone.

CJ exhaled, relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever, before letting Y/N tug him toward the door.

Finally, things were looking up.

The night air was crisp as CJ and Y/N climbed the stairs to their apartment, the quiet hum of the city settling into a peaceful lull around them. The celebration had been exactly what they all needed—laughter, good food, and the kind of camaraderie that made even the worst days feel bearable.

CJ had spent most of the evening watching Y/N—how she lit up while teasing Gabby, how she made sure Miles didn’t actually combust, how she touched his knee under the table, grounding him without even realizing it.

And now, as they reached their door and stepped inside, something in him paused.

Before Y/N could move further into the room, CJ reached out and pulled her into him.

Y/N let out a soft sound of surprise as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. His grip was firm, steady—like he needed to feel her in his arms, like he needed the reassurance that she was here.

Y/N blinked, resting her hands against his back before tilting her head slightly. “CJ?” she murmured, her fingers sliding up into his hair.

He didn’t answer right away. He just held her, his heart beating steady and strong against hers.

Y/N smiled softly against his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

CJ exhaled, pulling back just enough to look at her. His hands slid up to frame her face, his thumbs brushing along her cheekbones, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“Nothing,” he said, voice low, quiet. “Just… grateful.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her lips parting slightly. “For what?”

CJ’s eyes softened as he searched hers. “You.”

Y/N blinked, her chest tightening. "CJ…"

“I mean it,” he murmured, his hands trailing down to her waist. “I don’t say it enough. You make everything better. Even the worst days. Especially the worst days.”

Y/N swallowed, overwhelmed by the weight of his words. "You do that for me too."

CJ smiled faintly, dipping his head to press his lips so gently against hers—slow and unhurried, as if trying to memorize her.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. “Just wanted to remind you.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her fingers curling around the front of his shirt. “I really like when you get sentimental.”

CJ smirked, brushing his nose against hers. “Don’t get used to it.”

Y/N grinned, looping her arms around his neck. “Too late.”

CJ chuckled, shaking his head before kissing her again, longer this time—deep and slow, the kind of kiss that anchored them, that reminded them both exactly how much they had found in each other.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Just them.

Together.

The morning was calm, but CJ knew better than to trust the quiet.

He was at his desk, half-focused on emails and half-sipping the coffee Y/N had made before leaving for her shift, when a firm knock sounded on his office door.

“Come in,” he called, already sensing something was off.

Priya stepped inside, closing the door behind her with more care than usual. Her expression was composed, but there was a weight in her eyes that immediately set CJ on edge.

He set his coffee down. “What’s wrong?”

Priya exhaled, setting her tablet on his desk. “I’ve been tracking the storm system off the coast.”

CJ frowned, already feeling where this was headed. “The one they were saying might hit?”

She nodded, swiping on the screen to show the latest updates. The map displayed swirling bands of red and orange, the storm’s projected path shifting slightly inland.

“They just upgraded it to a hurricane,” she said soberly. “And if it doesn’t weaken before landfall, it’s going to hit hard.”

CJ dragged a hand down his face. Of course.

Priya crossed her arms. “I wanted to talk to you about what that means for us. The Stand can’t exactly shut down, but I need to make sure our volunteers and staff are safe. If conditions get bad, we need a plan.”

CJ nodded, already shifting into problem-solving mode. “How long do we have?”

“Maybe a couple of days before it makes landfall,” Priya said. “But we’ll probably start seeing the outer bands sooner. High winds, flooding in low areas—enough to be a problem.”

CJ exhaled, glancing at the map again. “Alright. First things first—we make sure people don’t travel in dangerous conditions. Anyone scheduled to work in person should have the option to go remote before the storm actually hits.”

Priya nodded. “Agreed. But there’s another issue—what about people already here when it starts?”

CJ leaned back in his chair, considering. “We’ll need supplies on hand. If travel gets too dangerous, we can’t have staff or volunteers stuck here with nothing. Food, water, flashlights—whatever we’d need in case of power loss.”

Priya’s gaze softened slightly. “Already ahead of you. I started making a list before I came in here.”

CJ smirked. “Of course you did.”

Priya arched a brow. “One of us has to be organized.”

CJ chuckled, shaking his head before turning serious again. “How bad are we talking? Worst case?”

Priya exhaled slowly. “Worst case? Sustained winds over 90 mph. Power outages for days. Major flooding in low-lying areas. If it strengthens anymore before landfall…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

CJ let out a sharp breath. Damn it.

“I’ll get in touch with Y/N,” he said. “We should coordinate a plan for helping people outside of The Stand, too. If this hits like you think it will, people are gonna need resources. Not just for us, but for the community.”

Priya gave him a look—one that was part respect, part exasperation. “You always have to take on extra, don’t you?”

CJ smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If we can do something to help, we should.”

Priya sighed, but there was warmth in it. “All right. I’ll start reaching out to our contacts for emergency support.”

CJ nodded, already mentally preparing for the long days ahead. “Good. And Priya?”

She looked back at him.

He held her gaze. “Thanks for staying on top of this.”

Priya’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “Someone has to.”

With that, she turned and walked out, leaving CJ staring at the storm map, already planning for the worst.

The storm had arrived.

For most of the morning, it had been manageable—heavy rain, strong winds, but nothing that felt like a crisis. CJ, Y/N, Priya, Gabby, Miles, and a handful of other volunteers had made it into The Stand, prepared for a long shift of handling storm-related crisis calls. They had stocked up on supplies, rerouted calls for remote access where possible, and done everything right.

And yet—

CJ should’ve known something would go wrong.

The building shuddered as the power shut down completely. The overhead lights flickered, then died. The hum of computers ceased. And most importantly—the newly installed electronic security system?

Gone.

A beat of silence followed before—

“Oh, for the love of—”

CJ turned just in time to see Miles throw his hands in the air. "I knew this would happen! This is exactly why I said putting the entire security system on a single electrical grid was stupid!"

Gabby, who had been rifling through a supply box, abandoned it immediately and strode toward him, grinning like she was delighted by his meltdown. "Aw, come on, Miles, it’s kinda fun! We’re having a workplace adventure!"

Miles turned to her, scandalized. "Gabriella, we are trapped in a building during a hurricane with no backup power. Does that sound like fun to you?"

Gabby tapped her chin. "A little."

"Of course it does," Miles muttered, rubbing his temples. "This is my nightmare."

Priya exhaled, already reaching for her phone to check for updates. "The system should have had a backup," she said, frowning. "Which means—"

"—the backup also failed," CJ finished grimly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fantastic."

"What now?" one of the volunteers asked, looking a little too nervous for CJ’s liking.

"Now," Priya said smoothly, "we stay calm and wait for the power to reboot."

"And if they can’t?"

Priya exhaled, tucking her phone into her pocket. "Then we make the best of it."

CJ looked over at Y/N, who was watching the storm outside through the large windows. The wind had picked up, hard, the trees bending, rain streaking against the glass.

She turned, catching his gaze. "Guess we’re stuck here, huh?"

CJ smirked. "Looks like it."

Y/N hummed, stepping closer, nudging his shoulder. "Think you can handle being locked in with all of us?"

CJ glanced over at Miles, still aggressively muttering to himself, and Gabby, who was now attempting to calm him down by offering to braid his hair.

He exhaled. "Debatable."

Y/N laughed softly, looping her arm through his. "Well, we might as well make the best of it."

CJ shook his head, amused, before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Yeah, yeah."

Gabby turned at that exact moment, eyes lighting up. "Oooooh, look at you two sneaking cute moments in the apocalypse!"

CJ groaned. "Gabby."

She beamed. "What? I love this for you!"

Miles groaned even louder. "I swear to God, if we’re stuck here overnight, I’m quitting."

CJ chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, Miles. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Just then, a loud crash sounded from somewhere in the building.

A very familiar power tool-related crash.

CJ closed his eyes. "I take it back."

Priya sighed. "Of course you do."

And just like that, the night really began.

The Stand was officially on lockdown.

The rain lashed against the windows, the wind howled through the cracks in the building, and the backup generator that was supposed to keep the power on? Completely fried.

The worst part? IT couldn’t do anything about it.

The utility company had to restore power first, which meant they were at the mercy of the storm. Until then, the office was pitch dark, except for the dim glow of emergency exit lights and the occasional flash of lightning outside.

And because the brilliantly designed security system ran on electric locks, the doors were stuck.

Trapped.

CJ sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Of course this is how today ends."

Across the room, Miles was pacing, his grumbling increasing in volume with every step. "This is a perfect example of why everything should have a manual override. Who the hell—"

"Miles," Gabby interrupted sweetly, stepping in front of him, "breathe."

Miles scowled, adjusting his glasses. "I am breathing. I’m also raging."

"Multitasking, I love that for you," Gabby teased.

Miles muttered something unintelligible that definitely wasn’t appropriate for work.

Priya leaned against the desk, arms crossed, her expression cool and composed. "IT says we’re stuck until the utility company gets power back. No power, no system reset."

CJ exhaled, already bracing himself. "How long?"

Priya shrugged. "Could be a couple of hours. Could be all night."

Miles stopped pacing. "All night?"

"Relax," Y/N said, stepping beside CJ, slipping her hand into his. "It’s not the worst thing in the world."

CJ smirked, squeezing her hand. "Could be worse."

"Could it?" Miles snapped. "Because I’m struggling to see how."

"We could be stuck outside," Y/N pointed out. "Or on the road. Or in an elevator."

CJ snorted. "That last one might’ve broken you, Miles."

"I would not have survived," Miles admitted grimly.

"Exactly," Y/N said, squeezing CJ’s arm. "See? Perspective."

Miles groaned, throwing himself into a chair. "I hate all of you."

Gabby beamed, plopping onto the desk next to him. "Aww, you love us, tech boy."

"I actively do not," Miles muttered.

Gabby patted his shoulder. "Denial is the first step, babe."

Priya sighed, pulling out her phone—not that it was of much use with the Wi-Fi down. "We might as well make the best of it."

"I swear to God," Miles muttered.

"Ooooh," Gabby interrupted, her eyes lighting up. "Let’s play a game!"

Miles’ head snapped up. "Absolutely not."

"Gabby," Priya said tiredly. "No."

"Come on! We need to pass the time!" Gabby grinned, eyes flicking to CJ and Y/N. "I know you two will back me up!"

Y/N laughed, glancing at CJ. "I mean… she’s not wrong."

CJ smirked. "Not committing until I know what the game is."

Gabby beamed. "Truth or dare."

Miles threw his head back. "I hate this place."

"You love it here," Gabby chirped.

CJ shook his head, leaning against the desk as Y/N pressed into his side.

They were trapped in the dark, the storm still raged outside, and the power company had no ETA.

But Y/N was right.

They’d survived worse.

And for now?

They’d make the best of it.

The office was dim, the only light coming from the emergency exit signs and the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the room through the windows. Rain hammered against the glass, the wind howling as the storm raged on.

And in the middle of the chaos, they were playing Truth or Dare.

CJ wasn't sure how this had happened.

Well. He did.

It was Gabby’s fault.

She had somehow convinced the group—through sheer force of will—to go along with it, and now they were fully committed.

Miles, however, was suffering.

"I want it on record," he muttered, arms crossed, "that I was forced into this."

"Duly noted," Priya said dryly, taking a seat on one of the desks.

"Oh, hush," Gabby said, leaning against Miles’ chair. "This is fun."

"This is not fun," Miles shot back.

"It is fun," Y/N chimed in, grinning as she curled up next to CJ on the couch. "You just don’t like admitting when you’re enjoying yourself."

CJ smirked, resting his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers idly playing with a strand of Y/N’s hair. "She’s not wrong."

Miles scowled. "You’re supposed to be on my side, Braxton."

"Nope," CJ said easily. "You’re on your own, buddy."

Miles groaned. "I hate all of you."

"Right, right," Gabby said, delighted at his misery. "Now shut up, because it’s your turn, tech boy. Truth or dare?"

Miles sighed deeply, clearly rethinking every life choice that had led him to this moment. "Truth."

Gabby’s grin widened. "Ooooh, excellent choice. Let’s see…" She tapped her chin dramatically before her face lit up. "What was your actual first impression of me?"

Miles stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

Miles muttered something under his breath before sighing. "Fine. First impression? You were loud."

Gabby gasped, mock-offended. "Loud?!"

"And chaotic," Miles continued. "And a menace to my personal space."

Gabby grinned. "So basically, you fell in love at first sight?"

Miles groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. "This is my nightmare."

CJ actually laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, next." His gaze flicked to Y/N, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Your turn, sweetheart. Truth or dare?"

Y/N smirked, tilting her head. "Dare."

Gabby let out an excited gasp. "Oooooh, okay, okay! I dare you to…" She paused dramatically, her grin turning mischievous. "Sit in CJ’s lap for the rest of the game."

Y/N arched a brow. "That’s not even a real dare."

"Oh, it is," Gabby assured her. "I just wanted an excuse to make him blush."

CJ rolled his eyes but did not protest when Y/N immediately climbed into his lap, getting comfortable like it was second nature.

Because, well. It was.

"Happy now?" CJ said dryly, resting his hands on Y/N’s waist.

Gabby beamed. "Extremely."

"Whose turn is it?" Priya asked, shaking her head.

"CJ’s," Y/N said, smirking at him. "Truth or dare?"

CJ smirked, leaning back slightly. "Truth."

Y/N tapped her fingers against his chest. "If you had to get a tattoo right now, what would it be?"

CJ hummed, pretending to think. "Easy. A snowflake."

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her fingers curling against his shirt.

Gabby gasped dramatically. "Oh, my God, are you two in a romance novel?"

"Apparently," Priya muttered.

Y/N swallowed, smiling softly. "Good answer."

CJ smirked, tugging her a little closer. "I know."

Gabby sighed happily. "Ugh, I love this for you two."

Miles muttered, "I do not."

CJ shook his head, watching the group with amusement as the game continued.

They were trapped, in the dark, in the middle of a hurricane with no ETA on when the power would return.

But somehow, with Y/N in his lap, Gabby annoying Miles, and Priya quietly observing, CJ thought—

This might actually be one of the best nights they’ve had in a while.

The storm raged on outside, but inside The Stand, the game was in full swing. The group had fully embraced the ridiculousness of their situation, and CJ was actually enjoying himself—mostly because Y/N was still curled up in his lap, laughing against his shoulder at the latest truth Gabby had managed to drag out of Priya.

But the real highlight of the night was about to happen.

Y/N sat up slightly, turning her attention to Miles, who had been painfully avoiding eye contact with Gabby for the last few rounds. She smirked, her fingers lightly tapping against CJ’s chest as she tilted her head.

"Miles," she said, eyes glinting mischievously, "truth or dare?"

CJ immediately knew something was up.

Miles sighed, clearly wary. "Dare."

Gabby gasped dramatically, clapping her hands. "Oh, he’s feeling brave tonight!"

Y/N’s grin widened before she leaned forward slightly. "I dare you… to kiss Gabby."

CJ choked on air.

Gabby froze, eyes going wide. "Ohhh, I love this game."

Miles, on the other hand, looked like he was about to die. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Y/N said sweetly, biting back a grin. "You can’t back out, Miles. Rules are rules."

CJ grinned, highly entertained. "She’s right, man. You accepted the dare."

Miles looked murderous. "I hate all of you."

Gabby, however, was beaming. "Oh, come on, tech boy," she teased. "Just a little kiss? What’s the worst that could happen?"

"A lot," Miles muttered, but the redness creeping up his entire neck gave him away.

"Tick-tock," Priya said smoothly, crossing her arms. "We’re waiting."

Miles groaned loudly, looking everywhere except at Gabby. "Fine."

Gabby perked up, her grin turning absolutely smug. "Ooooh, is this happening?"

"Shut up," Miles muttered before turning toward her, adjusting his glasses like he was mentally preparing himself for battle.

Gabby bounced slightly in place, looking highly amused. "Come on, tech boy, lay it on me—"

Before she could finish the sentence, Miles grabbed her by the face and kissed her.

CJ wasn’t sure what he expected—but it definitely wasn’t that.

Gabby made a startled sound before melting into it, her hands gripping his shirt as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life.

The group erupted.

"Oh my God," Y/N gasped. "He actually—"

"I did not see that coming," Priya admitted.

CJ grinned, shaking his head. "Well, damn."

After a few very long seconds, Miles finally pulled away, his face redder than ever. "There. Happy now?"

Gabby blinked, stunned, before she smirked. "Oh, babe. You are never living this down."

Miles groaned, covering his face. "Kill me now."

"Nope," CJ said, highly entertained. "You brought this on yourself."

Y/N, absolutely delighted, clapped her hands. "Best dare of the night."

Gabby, still grinning, leaned toward Miles. "Wanna do that again just to make sure it counts?"

Miles visibly short-circuited. "Absolutely not."

"Your loss," Gabby teased, winking.

CJ exhaled, leaning back against the couch. "This was an excellent idea."

Y/N grinned, snuggling back into his lap. "I know."

The game continued, but there was no topping that dare.

And as CJ watched Miles try desperately to recover while Gabby whispered things in his ear just to watch him blush, he decided—

Storm or not, this was officially the best night they’d had in a long time.

The Stand was still wrapped in darkness, the storm continuing to rage outside, but inside, the energy of the group was lighter than it had been in days.

Miles was still recovering from his very public kiss with Gabby, sitting stiffly in his chair like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, while Gabby was thrilled with her victory. Y/N was nestled comfortably in CJ’s lap, looking way too pleased with herself after her successful dare, and Priya was watching the chaos unfold with her usual amused but composed expression.

And then—

"Alright, CJ," Gabby declared, turning her attention to him. "Truth or dare?"

CJ smirked, adjusting his arms around Y/N. "Truth."

Gabby’s grin widened, mischief lighting up her eyes. "Oooooh, excellent choice, Mr. Braxton."

CJ arched a brow. "Why do I suddenly regret this?"

"Because you should." Gabby tapped her chin dramatically before looking directly at Y/N, then back at CJ. "Okay. Real talk, CJ. Are you ever going to propose to Y/N?"

The room went silent.

CJ froze.

Y/N stiffened in his lap, tilting her head up to look at him, her eyes wide with shock.

CJ tried to answer smoothly, tried to play it off, but his brain stuttered, and instead of something cool and collected, what came out was—

"Uh—yes?"

Gabby gasped, delighted. "Oh my God!"

Y/N blinked. "Wait, what?"

CJ felt his face heat, suddenly very aware that all eyes were on him. "I—" He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair before looking down at Y/N, whose expression was an even mix of shock and curiosity. "I mean… yeah."

Y/N stared at him. "You were— You were thinking about that?"

CJ swallowed, realizing there was zero way out of this, so he just sighed and went with the truth. "I wasn’t planning to do it right now, but… yeah. I’ve been thinking about it."

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, her breath hitching, like she was fully processing his words. "CJ…"

Gabby clapped her hands together, practically vibrating. "This is the best game I’ve ever played."

Miles, who had finally recovered from his own public emotional turmoil, smirked. "Damn. Didn’t think I’d see Braxton actually stammer over something."

Priya, watching CJ struggle, simply sipped her tea, eyes twinkling with amusement. "This is so much better than the construction disaster."

CJ sighed, looking back at Y/N, suddenly needing to explain himself. "I wasn’t gonna say anything yet," he murmured, his voice softer now, just for her. "Because I wasn’t ready yet. Not because I don’t want to. But because when I do it? I want it to be right."

Y/N exhaled, and something shifted in her eyes—something softer, something warmer. "You really mean that?"

CJ tilted her chin up, brushing his thumb against her jaw. "Yeah. I do."

Y/N’s lips curved slightly, her eyes shining in the dim light. "Well. That’s… unexpected."

"Yeah?" CJ murmured, his heart pounding.

Y/N grinned. "But not unwanted."

CJ felt his chest tighten—not with anxiety, not with pressure, but with something so much better.

Y/N wanted forever with him.

And damn if that didn’t make everything else disappear.

Gabby sighed dramatically, clasping her hands together. "God, I love love."

Miles groaned. "I don’t."

Priya chuckled, setting her mug down. "Alright, let’s give our future married couple a break and keep this game going."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, but when she turned back to CJ, there was something different in her gaze.

Something knowing.

Something that said this conversation wasn’t over.

CJ smirked, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before murmuring just for her—

"Come to my office. Let’s talk."

Y/N’s grin widened, something curious flickering in her expression. "Okay."

And just like that, the game kept going, but CJ knew—

Something had definitely changed.

The door to CJ’s office clicked shut behind them, muffling the sounds of laughter and conversation from the break room. The dim glow from the emergency lights cast long shadows across the space, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Y/N stood near the desk, her arms crossed loosely, her expression thoughtful—still trying to process what had just happened.

CJ leaned against the edge of his desk, watching her carefully. He wasn’t nervous, exactly, but there was a weight in his chest that hadn’t been there before Gabby had opened her mouth.

And now, there was no going back.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t mean for you to find out like that."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, I figured."

CJ exhaled, looking down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "But I meant what I said."

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, her gaze searching his. "You’ve really been thinking about it? Marriage?”

CJ nodded, his voice steady. "Yeah. Not because of pressure, or because it’s ‘the next step,’ but because…" He exhaled. "Because I love you. Because you’re it for me, Y/N. And I don’t want anyone else. I don’t even want to think about a life that doesn’t have you in it."

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sweater. "CJ…"

"I know it’s soon," he added quickly, sensing the hesitation in her voice. "I know we just moved in together. I know you have school, your practicum, all of that. I’m not asking for an answer right now. I just… I needed you to know how I feel. Because it’s been in my head for a while now, and after everything that’s happened—the storms, the chaos, even just us—I can’t pretend I don’t think about it."

Y/N let out a slow breath, rubbing her arms like she was trying to gather her thoughts. "I—" She hesitated, biting her lip. "I love you, CJ. You know that. But I’m just…taken aback by all of this. I wasn’t expecting to talk about marriage this soon. I just moved in with you. I still have school, my practicum, my entire career to think about—"

"I know," CJ interrupted softly. "And I don’t want to take any of that from you. I want you to finish school. I want you to do your practicum, to build the future you’ve worked so hard for. I just…" He paused, searching her expression. "Where do you see that future, Y/N?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Where do you see yourself, years from now?" CJ asked, his voice careful, not pushing, just curious. "Because if I’m being honest… I used to have a plan. My whole life was The Stand. I thought that was all it was ever going to be. And then…" He exhaled, his lips twitching into something soft. "And then you walked in and everything changed."

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her fingers twitching at her sides. "CJ…"

"So I’m asking you," he continued, voice steady. "Where do you see yourself in the future?"

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it.

And for the first time, she didn’t have an answer.

Because everything had changed since she walked through the doors of The Stand.

She had thought she knew what her future looked like—finishing school, finishing her practicum, taking a job somewhere as a psychologist or crisis counselor.

But then there was CJ.

Then there was this place, these people, this life she hadn’t expected but couldn’t imagine giving up.

Y/N exhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a second before meeting his gaze again. "I don’t know," she admitted, voice quiet but sure. "I don’t know where I see myself in five years, or ten years, or what my career will look like exactly. But…" She swallowed, taking a step closer to him. "I know one thing."

CJ tilted his head slightly, waiting. "What’s that?"

Y/N inhaled deeply, holding his gaze. "I don’t see a future without you in it."

CJ’s chest tightened, warmth spreading through him at her words.

He reached for her then, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer until they were just a breath apart. "Then that’s enough for me," he murmured.

Y/N exhaled, resting her hands on his chest. "It is?"

"Yeah," CJ whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "We’ve got time. I’m not in a rush. As long as I have you, the rest can come when it’s meant to."

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again. "I really, really love you, CJ Braxton."

CJ smirked, brushing his lips against hers. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And when she kissed him, slow and deep, CJ knew—

It didn’t matter when.

She was his future.

And that was all he needed to know.

Tag List: @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick

Want to be a part of this tag list or others? Message me here! And check out the other story I’m writing!

18 notes · View notes

girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 7 months ago

Text

tuesday again 11/19/2024

no silly little witticism here this week! just heartfelt thanks for helping me pay my rent this month :)

listening

absolutely wild pick from last week's spotify weekly recommenced, Things Will Fall Apart by Louis Cole feat the Metropole Orkest and conductor Jules Buckley. it's been on loop all week for me and im a little sad it won't pop up in my spotify wrapped

when you make a dance pop song with a full orchestra backing, it has a really interesting effect somewhere between Golden Age of Hollywood swashbuckling film score and marching band?

Yes, understood Things will fall apart just likе they should This little shred was good Don't think it through Things will fall apart, they always do At least, something's always true

the syllables are so choppy they don’t even register to me as English at first, i was fully willing to believe this was German for the first couple lines. like @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, i have a deep fondness for works about putting an era to bed. or works focused on the sunsets of things, or one of the last living practitioners of an art. putting the chairs up on the table, sweeping the floors, and turning the lights out and locking the door behind you. this song has that sort of quiet post-wake-party remembrance.

however once you think the song has ended but it keeps going, you can turn it off. you don’t really need that extra minute and a half of strings and light vocalizations.

Lately, Louis Cole has been doing live shows with the Netherlands’ Metropole Orkest and conductor Jules Buckley. Cole recorded nothing with the ensemble. In a press release, he says, “Sometimes, when I’m mixing my own solo stuff, I’ll feel like a song needs a little magical dust. But mixing an entire orchestra and your own rhythm section, there’s so much human energy! You don’t have to add any magic. It was there the whole time.”

i don’t hear many pop songs this millennium with a full orchestral backing. perhaps i need to look harder. unfortunately spotify took this extreme interest in this song as a newfound extreme interest in electroswing, which is really not what this song is. i hope this artist does more albums like this so they can wear grooves in my brain

reading

very hard to focus on anything book length this week. some depressing local news (my local paper's links do Not want to preview nicely here, which is annoying:

At a city council meeting in October, district Vice President Dan Joyce told council members that the management district was not attempting to "criminalize homelessness." The city’s civility ordinance bans people from sitting, lying down or placing personal items or bedding on sidewalks from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m.

cool piece from our pals at 404 Media. i am So fascinated by crime infrastructure

Based on interviews with malware developers, hackers who use the stolen credentials, and a review of manuals that tell new recruits how to spread the malware, 404 Media has mapped out this industry. Its end result is that a download of an innocent-looking piece of software by a single person can lead to a data breach at a multibillion-dollar company, putting Google and other tech giants in an ever-escalating cat-and-mouse game with the malware developers to keep people and companies safe.

(via longreads) my interest in how and why systems fail extends to invasive species management. plus i used to live in florida just above the everglades and these fuckers (the snakes) were everywhere

[I]magine thousands upon thousands of pythons, their slow digestion transforming each corpse into python muscle and fat. Unaided, Florida’s native wildlife doesn’t stand a chance. “That’s what I think about with every python I catch,” Kalil says. “What it ate to get this big, and the lives I’m saving by removing it.” Biologists are taking a multipronged approach to the issue. They have experimented with enlisting dogs to sniff out both pythons and nests—a technique that has proved difficult in such hot weather and inhospitable landscapes. Ongoing projects use telemetry to track pythons to find “associate snakes.” Researchers use drones, go out in airboats, or even take to helicopters to locate their subjects in the interiors of the Everglades. Always, agencies and individuals are looking for the next best methods. “But for now, the python contractor program is the most successful management effort in the history of the issue,” Kirkland says. “We’re capturing more and more—something that is indicative of the python population out there and indicative of us getting better at what we do.”

watching

continuing noirvember, watched hitchcock's Notorious to see if i still dislike hitchcock. the answer is yes. there are bond girls and there are hitchcock girls, and not that bond girls are paragons of female agency in film, but hitchcock girls are mostly fluttering little pathetic things. a scrap of agency they showed in the beginning of the film becomes a running joke and something their noses are rubbed in for the rest of the film. not for me!

patrick mcgoohan is leading me into some real dad-ass movies. Ice Station Zebra (1968, dir. Sturges) is a real you're stuck at home sick with your dad and it's on TV for the whole afternoon kind of movie. they truly do not make two and a half cold war submarine espionage films in super panavision with an overture, intermission, and interact music any more. i get why howard hughes was really obsessed with this one. it is a suspense film, but full of people competently going about their business, which i find oddly comforting.

youtube

unfortunately i do not feel this really needed to be two and a half hours long. the loving closeups of sub interiors and instrumentation really did keep me amused, though. despite how cluttered every shot is with actors, there is tremendous clarity of purpose and motion with the camera movement. just a really technically brilliant film.

how similar the russian and american control rooms and instrumentation were made me chortle. ties nicely into a little diatribe mcgoohan goes on much later in the film, "The Russians put our camera made by our German scientists and your film made by your German scientists into their satellite made by their German scientists." funny and darkly true! every allied nation had some sort of Operation Paperclip going on! mcgoohan is the focus of every scene he's in, as a spy who is really hanging on by the last remaining shreds of his fingernails.

i had a good time with it, but one of many cold war suspense films im glad exist in the world but don't necessarily need to see again. it might join Escape from New York as a film i put on when im very sick though.

playing

this pc needs some sort of replacement something, bc it has a really persistent overheating problem. it only tolerates powerwasher simulator on the lowest possible settings and genshin impact on basically mobile settings. it does not even want to run new vegas. i popped my head out of goodsprings to look out over the desert at the Strip and it said no thank you! too many polygons! naptime!

speaking of genshin, major update this week and new character i will be pulling for. she has a sister who died in the last patch, which i do Not care for as someone with a beloved little sister, but her moveset and skills are unique so far in the game. i feel like her skills are little too complicated for me to fully take advantage of with my "hit enemy very hard until he is dead" playstyle but she has a limited flight ability that will genuinely be very useful for exploration.

if i do not get her when i hit pity on the banner i won't bother pulling another nine times or whatever, bc the next patch has a character i really desperately want and i am saving for her

making

the local crew is all getting art this year, bc i already have bristol board and a selection of small frames and zero budget. people who have pets are So easy to get gifts for bc u can simply get them stuff for their pet or that looks like their pet. way less gray cat than black cat merch in the world tho

aiming to send out international holiday cards by the end of the week, and canadian cards by american thanksgiving. the rest of you they'll get there when they get there ok

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #SoundCloud

22 notes · View notes

canmom · 8 months ago

Text

more on art production ~under capitalism~

reading Who Owns This Sentence?, a very engaging and fiercely critical history of the concept of copyright, and it's pretty fire. there's all sorts of fascinating intricacies in the way the notion of IP formed around the world (albeit so far the narrative has mainly focused on Europe, and to a limited extent China), and the different ideologies that justified the types of monopolies that it granted. the last chapter i read skewers the idea that the ability to exploit copyright and patents is what motivates the writing of books and research/invention, and I'll try and pull out the shape of the argument tomorrow. so far I'm only up to the 18th century; I'm looking forward to the rest of their story of how copyright grew from the limited forms of that period into the monster it is today.

it's on libgen if you wanna read it! i feel like the authors would be hypocrites to object :p

it is making me think about the differences between the making of books and other media, from (since this has been rattling around my head lately) an economic angle...

writing books, at least in the case of fiction is usually done on a prospective, spec-work kind of basis (you write your novel with no guarantee it will get published unless you're already an established author under contract). admittedly, a lot of us probably read books by authors who managed to 'make it' as professional authors and write full time - but this is not a lucrative thing to do and to make it work you need truly exceptional luck to get a major hit, or to be extremely prolific in things people want to read.

the films and games of the types most of us play are, by contrast, generally made by teams of salaried people - and thus do rarely get made without the belief it will be profitable. if you went on about your 'monetisation model' when writing a book, people would look at you funny and rightly so, but it's one of the first questions that gets asked when pitching a game.

open source software is a notable comparison here. a lot of it is done for its own sake without any expectation of profit, taking untold hours, but large free software projects tend to sprout foundations, which take donations (typically from companies that use the software) to pay for full time developers. mozilla, notably, gets a huge part of its funding from google paying for their search engine to be the default in Firefox; this in turn drives development of not just Firefox itself but also the Rust programming language (as discussed in this very enlightening talk by Evan Czaplicki). Blender is rightly celebrated as one of the best open source projects for its incredibly fast development, but they do have an office in amsterdam and a number of full time devs.

what money buys in regards to creative works is not motivation, but time - time to work on a project, iterate and polish and all that. in societies where you have to buy food etc. to survive, your options for existence are basically:

work at a job

own capital

rely on someone else (e.g. a parent or partner)

rely on state benefits if you can get them

beg

steal

if you're working at a job, this takes up a lot of your time and energy. you can definitely make art anyway, loads of people do, but you're much more limited in how you can work at it compared to someone who doesn't have to work another job.

so again, what money buys in art is the means of subsistence for someone, freeing them to work fully on realising a project.

where does the money come from that lets people work full time on art? a few places.

one is selling copies of the work itself. what's remarkable is that, when nearly everything can be pirated without a great deal of effort, it is still possible to do this to some degree - though in many ways the ease of digital copying (or at least the fear if it) has forced new models for purely digital creations, which either trade on convenience (streaming services) or in the case of games, find some way to enforce scarcity like requiring connection to a central server and including 'in-app purchases', where you pay to have the software display that you are the nebulous owner of an imaginary thing, and display this to other players. anyway, whichever exact model, the idea is that you turn the IP into capital which you then use to manufacture a product like 'legal copies', 'subscriptions' or 'accounts with a rare skin unlocked'.

the second is using the work to promote some other, more profitable thing - merchandising, an original work, etc. this is the main way that something like anime makes money (for the production committee, if not the studio) - the anime is, economics-wise, effectively an ad for its own source manga, figurines, shirts etc. the reason why there is so much pro media chasing the tastes of otaku is partly because otaku spend a lot on merch. (though it's also because the doujin scene kind of feeds into 'pro' production)

the third is some kind of patronage relationship, notably government grants, but also academic funding bodies, or selling commissions, or subscriptions on a streaming platform/patreon etc.

grants are how most European animated films are funded, and they often open with the logos of a huge list of arts organisations in different countries. the more places you can get involved, the more funds you can pull on. now, instead of working out how to sell your creation to customers who might buy a copy, under this model you need to convince funding bodies that it fits their remit. requesting grants involves its own specialised language.

in general the issue with the audience patronage model is that it only really pays enough to live on if you're working on a pretty huge scale. a minority make a fortune; the vast majority get a pittance at most, and if they do 'make it', it takes years of persistence.

the fourth is, for physical media, to sell an original. this only works if you can accumulate enough prestige, and the idea is to operate on extreme scarcity. the brief fad of NFTs attempted to abstract the idea of 'owning' an original from the legal right to control the physical object to something completely nebulous. in practice this largely ended up just being a speculative bubble - but then again, a lot of the reason fine art is bought and sold for such eye watering sums is pretty much the same, it's an arbitrary holder of an investment.

the fifth is artworks which are kind of intrinsically scarce, like live performances. you can only fit so many people in the house. and in many cases people will pay to see something that can be copied in unique circumstances, like seeing a film at a cinema or festival - though this is a special case of selling copies.

the sixth is to sell advertising: turn your audience into the product, and your artwork into the bait on the hook.

the alternative to all of these options is unpaid volunteer work, like a collab project. the participants are limited to the time and energy they have left after taking care of survival. this can still lead to great things, but it tends to be more unstable by its nature. so many of these projects will lose steam or participants will flake and they'll not get finished - and that's fine! still, huge huge amounts of things already get created on this kind of hobby/indie/doujin basis, generally (tho not always) with no expectation of making enough money to sustain someone.

in every single one of these cases, the economic forces shape the types of artwork that will get made. different media are more or less demanding of labour, and that in turn shapes what types of projects are viable.

books can be written solo, and usually are - collaborations are not the norm there. the same goes for illustrations. on the other hand, if you want to make a hefty CRPG or an action game or a feature length movie, and you're trying to fit that project around your day job... i won't say it's impossible, I can think of some exceptional examples, but it won't be easy, and for many people it just won't be possible.

so, that's a survey of possibilities under the current regime. how vital is copyright really to this whole affair?

one thing that is strange to me is that there aren't a lot of open source games. there are some - i have memories of seeing Tux Racer, but a more recent example would be Barotrauma (which is open source but not free, and does not take contributions from outside the company). could it work? could you pay the salaries of, say, 10 devs on a 'pay what you can' model?

it feels like the only solution to all of this in the long run is some kind of UBI type of thing - that or a very generous art grants regime. if people were free to work on what they wanted and didn't need to be paid, you wouldn't have any reason for copyright. the creations could be publicly archived. but then the question i have is, what types of artwork would thrive in that kind of ecosystem?

I've barely talked about the book that inspired this, but i think it was worth the trouble to get the contours of this kind of analysis down outside my head...

#fiction #copyright

20 notes · View notes

msx-pocky · 2 months ago

Text

For like, the past decade and a half I have found that any time I got a new games console I would try to work up the same kind of excitement I had when getting new consoles as a kid like the gamecube, ds and psp, and consistently what happened ever time was that I'd buy it, try to work up enthusiasm for it and actually keep up with new releases and get involved in modern gaming communities, but then inevitably every time I'd barely play any of the games I get for it since they just didn't grab me, and then inevitably I'd just sell the console to buy more retro games. this happened with 3ds, new 3ds, ps4, wii u and switch.

It took me ENTIRELY too long to realise that pc gaming was what I needed to get back into playing more modern games. I just assumed I wouldn't like pc gaming without trying it fully because I was specifically trying to recapture, again, excitement I got from consoles, and also pc gamers being pc gamers (the unironic "master race" fuckers) turning me off with their usual selling points of just "4k 180fps and no visible polygon edges", which makes it come off like you need overkill $2000+ gaming rigs capable of that kind of thing to actually experience the advantages of pc gaming

That isn't the case at all! you can build a computer for cheaper than next-gen consoles that is able to run lots of modern games at 60fps and 1080p. If you can settle for 30fps you can go even cheaper. You don't even need to buy a windows license anymore since Linux is free and its compatibility with windows software has gotten so good. If building a PC yourself is intimidating you could do what I did; buy a cheap OEM (pre-made) second hand desktop computer for cheap, like sub-$100 cheap, and use that to experiment with learning how to upgrade CPUs, gpus and ram. Using an old win7 HP desktop computer I bought for under $50, I managed to get it running doom 2016 at 30fps just by adding a new graphics card and CPU. doing it this way let me learn more about PC components so that when it was time for me to take the plunge and build my own PC from scratch I knew what I was doing. start cheap, and then if you discover that you need more powerful parts to run stuff you actually want to play, then you can start upgrading. There's no need to buy the highest end graphics card if a low-mid tier graphics card is already running everything smoothly after all. Just recently I built my girlfriend her own PC and managed to keep the price to around $500 (new zealand currency to be clear, which is like $300 USD). It was enough to run saga emerald beyond at 60fps which I was really happy with, but it did end up at around 30fps in other games like god eater 3, so we got a new graphics card once we could afford it.

And even with a cheap computer you can still experience a lot of what makes PC gaming so much fun. Indie games generally aren't demanding on hardware and there's far more of them on PC than there are on consoles. Indie games are genuinely some of the best modern games out there, frequently outdoing the AAA developers in lasting replay value and fun. plus, even the ones on consoles are better on PC thanks to extra features and content like mods, level editors and so on. there's also mouse and keyboard often being a more natural fit for game genres such as strategy and simulation games (I feel the same way about first person shooters as well but your mileage may vary there. Oh yeah also definitely play doom mods, they're awesome). Even if you're not into mouse and keyboard controls (I do really recommend practicing with it though! the speed and precision a mouse gives you is amazing), you'll still have a ton more controller options available on PC since basically anything that can be connected through USB or Bluetooth can be used. You also get access to fan made ports and remakes of classic games, all with their own mods and user made content, plus a ton of amazingly high quality standalone fan games (dr robotnik's ring racers is a recent fave of mine). You also have MUCH better access to older games on PC. You can be assured that stuff from the PS3 era will work superbly on modern PCs, and even a lot of 90s games work well out of the box on linux without needing to jump through hoops, in contrast to not even being able to play PS3 games on PS4. There's SO many cool aspects of modern gaming you can only experience on PC and it's not just playing microtransaction laden AAA games with marginally better graphics than on consoles.

This was meant to be about my disinterest in the switch 2 (not to say I think it'll be awful, I haven't looked enough into it, but I've already got my modern gaming covered by my computer unless some especially good exclusives win me over) but I got sidetracked and I just ended up gushing about how much i love computers oops

#linux #linuxposting #pc games #pc gaming #pc build

8 notes · View notes

stevebattle · 10 months ago

Text

youtube

Concero – Toyota Robot Band (2005), Toyota, Japan. Toyota's robot band, Concero, is made up of Harry, Dave, Chuck, and Richie, plus a 'DJ' robot as MC. Their debut performance is at the Japan Expo 2005 in the Toyota Group pavilion. "The virtuoso robot band “Concero” consists of both wheeled and bipedal robots. The bipedal model can easily maneuver in a human environment to assist in a variety of tasks. Wheeled robots are beneficial in environments where high speeds and the ability to rapidly change direction are desirable. A total of eight robots performed during EXPO 2005, playing many different instruments, including the trumpet, the French horn and the tuba. A management system was developed to monitor and control the robots during the performance shows. This system facilitated pre-show preparations such as standby mode software, battery and position control checks. The lighting, music and other stage controls were also fully integrated into the robot management system. After signaling the robots to initiate the programmed tasks, this system allowed the show’s engineers to wirelessly monitor the location and condition of each unit during the performance." – Toyota Partner Robots.

#cybernetics #humanoid #robot #musician #Toyota Partner Robot #Toyota #Concero #2005 #Youtube #robot band

25 notes · View notes

lesbianwyllravengard · 2 years ago

Text

Resident Evil (4 remake) x Detroit: Become Human AU

I made these arts MONTHS ago and never shared them. There's more I wanna draw for this crossover au but this is what I've got now. I of course came up with elaborate backstories behind everything.

Some AU lore if you're interested:

-on top of what Ashley's stuff says, she was long in development to become the perfect aging child android - something that's never been done before. She is considered an android bioweapon, as they combined robotics with bioengineering, taking DNA from President Graham (his first name is President actually) and infusing it with advanced technology to create Ashley. She is also the most expensive android, for obvious reasons, and was first commissioned by not-then-president President Graham back in 1995. Sherry was meant to be the first successful model, but her development was expedited and hidden by the Doctors Birkin to be their own daughter. Ashley's production was completed in 2000.

-Leon is an LN-200 android. The LN line was created to be an elite operative model of android, meant to integrate with police Android models. However, the entire LN line was discontinued as soon as Leon was released, due to the simultaneous takeover of CyberUmbrella labs by a mass group of mindless androids that killed on sight, and Leon's almost immediate deviation as a result of witnessing this tech-virus outbreak.

-Leon deviated after witnessing the outbreak on his first day - a malicious software virus was transferred to an Android from a CyberUmbrella lab in Raccoon City; that Android transferred it to others, and it kept going, spreading when androids interfaced. The virus shut down all of the androids' programmed objectives and replaced them with the simple objective: "Kill". Androids infected with this virus can only be cured by a very complex antivirus program that is only accessible from certain CyberUmbrella scientists.

-Leon deviated to escape this virus, and met a CR800 android named Claire, who was looking for her brother, another CR800 android called Chris. The two also met the RE200 android, Sherry, who they had to save from an alternate version of the virus that targeted her advanced software specifically. Claire managed to cure her, while Leon ran into a woman who called herself Ada.

-Ada told Leon she was a human, for her safety, as he was a cop android basically, but she's actually an android - specifically an AW900, illegally developed by Albert Wesker, and the only one of her kind. He named her model after his own initials, and calls her simply "AW900", but Ada took the initials and made it her own name - Ada Wong - out of defiance. She was given more freedoms as an android, as wesker had her do all of his dirty work, but she still wasn't deviant. But then she met Leon, and saw how he was deviant, and was surprised by his emotion and how much she wanted it too. She deviated eventually, but when Leon found out she'd lied about being a human, he was angry with her. Her job was to extract the modified virus that had been given to Sherry, so wesker could make Ada immune. Leon didn't want to let Ada take it, but before he can retrieve it, Ada is shot by Dr. Annette Birkin, who wants to get back at Wesker (you can pick any reason why that is. Maybe it's scientist jealousy. Maybe wesker ratted her out for her work on the RE200. Or maybe wesker stole her husband so she's mad which I think would be super funny. Love you Annette). Ada falls, and Leon thinks she's dead, but she escapes - now fully deviant, scared, and lost. She returns to wesker but pretends she isn't deviant, terrified of what he'd do to her if he found out.

-Dr. Luis Serra Navarro was hired by CyberUmbrella to help develop advanced software for androids. However, he realised eventually that the software he was being made to develop was not for new androids, but was in fact being turned into malware meant to attack androids. He knew CyberUmbrella only wanted to do bad things with this, and he attempted to flee with proof, but he was too late, and the virus was released before he could get the word out. Luis went into hiding, knowing that he wouldn't be pardoned for his work, and returned home to Valdelobos, Spain.

-Luis had hoped to help introduce android technology to his home, but he returned to find it taken over by a cult, which he was quickly swept up into under threat of death. He continued developing android software, this time for Saddler, who called it "La Plaga". La Plaga was Saddler's attempt to combine Android software with human genetics, creating half human half Android armies that he could control and program to his will. This was dangerous, bevause he was adding android tech to real people, reverting them to a robot form - the cult called themselves "Los Iluminados", bevause they believed their work to combine humans and androids was enlightened and would bring them closer to God.

-Luis didn't know the extent of Saddler's plan, but he knew Saddler wanted to use the virus to program all androids for control and chaos, death and destruction, so Luis also developed a failsafe - Code "Amber", an antivirus that would immediately render the Plaga virus dormant and (hopefully) reverse its effects. However, Saddler caught onto this and discovered that while the code amber could undo the plaga, it could also magnify it if modified slightly.

-RE400 Ashley was kidnapped in 2004 by Los Iluminados, as once Saddler learned of the first bioengineered android, he wanted to study her code and see how he could morph it with a human. Ashley was supposed to be unable to deviate, but the trauma of being kidnapped caused her to deviate out of self defence.

-After the events of Raccoon City, a now deviated Leon offered to care for Sherry while Claire continued to look for her brother. However, Leon was discovered, as they'd been tracking Sherry, and the government took her away for testing. They threatened to kill her, unless Leon agreed to be reset and reinstated as a special government agent model. Leon agreed to protect Sherry, he was reset, and lost his deviancy. However, he also lost all memories of Sherry, Claire, and Ada, and anyone else he'd met after deviating.

-years later, when President Graham's android daughter is kidnapped, Leon is sent to save her. They tracked her all the way to Spain, but when she deviated, they lost her location. Luckily, they think they lost her location because the cult removed her tracker, or temporarily deactivated her.

-Leon, a machine again, travels to Spain to rescue Ashley. When he arrives, he runs into Dr. Serra, who recognises Leon's model, though he never actually worked on Leon's model. Luis introduces himself, not expecting Leon to know, but Leon runs a scan and discovers that Luis used to work for CyberUmbrella, and is angry with Luis. But Luis proves to be resourceful and charismatic in just the right ways that has Leon trusting him against his will, and eventually even enjoying Luis's company, though he'd never admit it.

-When Leon reaches Ashley, she is at first abrasive, and scared of him. He realises it's because she's deviated. His programming insists he reports her deviation; but seeing her so scared, her face and blonde hair triggering something familial in his memories that he couldn't place, Leon lies to Hunnigan, his handler, and reports Ashley as still a machine. As a result, Leon is able to deviate again - and all at once, all of his memories come rushing back, and he's overwhelmed with emotion. He realises Ashley reminded Leon of Sherry, and he's more passionate about protecting her and bringing her home safe than before, determined to keep Ashley out of the government's control the way he failed to do for Sherry.

-Ada returns, and Leon remembers her now, so he recognises her. He doesn't know what she's doing in Spain, and she doesn't reveal it - but she does look out for him, and Ashley (and Luis), mostly without Leon's knowledge. Ada is able to do many things even the most highly trained covert operative couldn't do.

-Ashley was infected with the plaga, without her knowing, and then Leon was as well when he got captured by Mendéz. Luis still knows how to undo it, so he promises to help them.

-Ada is retrieving the Amber code for the same reason wesker had to her get the antivirus back in Raccoon City - to make herself and any other models wesker works on immune to outside viruses or tampering. However, wesker also plans to use the plaga and the amber to develop his own version of virus - Ada suspects this, but she isn't really in a position to question or go against wesker. However, after meeting and spending time with Luis, Luis shows faith in her, and she gains the courage to separate from wesker.

-Luis is fascinated by Leon (and Ashley, because she's cool, but mostly Leon). He flirts relentlessly, especially when he figures out Leon deviated. Leon tries to pretend it doesn't effect him, but Luis knows what his LED spinning red and yellow means, especially when Leon's is otherwise a constant blue.

-Krauser was a regulated government model of android - an MK model, specifically MK300. His model is not as advanced as Leon's, with Leon being one of a kind, but Krauser had plaga and amber induced advancements that made him stronger than any other model. Krauser hates Luis, because when Luis developed the Code Amber as a failsafe, he caused Krauser's plaga-advancements to malfunction, permanently damaging his vision in his left eye, and making Krauser's transformations spontaneous and uncontrollable. So, when Krauser finds out that Luis is helping Leon - Krauser's old subordinate - Krauser goes for revenge.

-Krauser wants to kill them both, but Luis shields Leon, getting himself stabbed. Leon fights Krauser, Luis shoots him to scare him off, and Leon rushes to Luis, scared as hell to lose him and also angry because Luis can't be replaced but Leon can. However, Luis had been previously given the plaga (and cured himself) so he was able to use some of it to his advantage and stabilise himself until Leon could get him medical help. So, Luis survives :)

-When Ada finds out that Leon and Ashley are both deviant, she tells Leon she's also deviant, but still refuses to tell him anything else. She's hot and he doesn't need to know.

-Leon and Luis grow closer, and by the time they escape the village with Ashley - now cured, thanks to Luis - Leon isn't ready to say goodbye. Luis says he can't go with them, because the us government will never let him back. Leon also knows if Ashley goes back, she could be reset, or deactivated, and Ashley likewise knows this and doesn't want to return. Leon has grown to trust Hunnigan too, and tells her their predicament. She agrees to cover for them for a while so they can escape. So, Leon, Luis, and Ashley disappear.

-Leon will return later - heavily disguised - to see Claire, and Sherry again.

-Leon and Luis obviously fall in love and stay together. Ashley doesn't live with them, but she visits often, and they have their own little family.

-Ada still watches over them from afar, too scared to get emotionally involved. But her friendship with Luis was close enough that she does eventually contact him, and he encourages her to visit them. Ada and Leon still have a weird tense rivalry that Luis doesn't understand, but they all care about each other.

The end (for now)

#resident evil #RE x DBH #serennedy #Resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy #Ashley Graham #Luis Serra #Luis Serra Navarro #leon s kennedy #Ada Wong #Resident evil 4 #Re4 #Re4 remake #resident evil fanart #serrenedy #serrennedy #Leonluis #Dbh #detroit become human

101 notes · View notes