#increase virtual memory

[allaboutkeyingo]

How to Increase Virtual Memory in Windows 11

Virtual memory (also called the paging file) helps your system run smoothly when physical RAM is fully utilized. By following these steps, you can effectively increase virtual memory in Windows 11 to enhance system performance, especially when running resource-intensive applications or multitasking.

Method 1: Automatic Management (Recommended for Most Users)

Press Windows + S and type “View advanced system settings”

Select the System Properties control panel item

Under the Advanced tab, click Settings in the Performance section

Go to the Advanced tab and click Change… under Virtual memory

Ensure “Automatically manage paging file size for all drives” is checked

Click OK and restart your computer

Method 2: Manual Configuration

Follow steps 1-4 above

Uncheck automatic management

Select your system drive (usually C:)

Choose Custom size

Initial size (MB): 1.5 × your RAM (e.g., 8GB RAM = 12288MB)

Maximum size: 3 × your RAM (e.g., 8GB RAM = 24576MB)

Click Set, then OK

Restart your computer

Tips:

For most users, letting Windows manage virtual memory automatically is the best option unless you have specific performance requirements.

For systems with SSDs, Windows usually manages virtual memory well automatically

Ensure your hard drive has enough free space for the virtual memory file.

Don’t set virtual memory smaller than your RAM size

If you have multiple drives,  consider placing the page file on a separate drive to improve performance.

Minimum should be at least equal to your RAM size, maximum up to 4× RAM for heavy use cases

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Commonplace Book

Commonplace Book - a system for writing down and sorting all manner of tidbits: quotes, anecdotes, observations, and information gleaned from books, conversations, movies, song lyrics, social posts, podcasts, life experiences, or anything else that you might want to return to later.

It’s called a commonplace book because you collect all of this in one common place—a central resource that makes it easy to find, re-read, and utilize each piece of wisdom you have obtained.

Some prefer a commonplace notebook system, while others use an intricate series of index cards, and others still create a digital commonplace book using various apps.

Ways to Keep a Commonplace Book

There is no one right way to keep and use a commonplace book. It is critical to find a style and system that feels comfortable to you so that keeping up with commonplacing doesn’t become a chore. After all, the purpose of the book is to save time and provide inspiration.

Notecards. One popular method utilizes notecards filed in a small box using dividers that can be labeled according to topic. You’ll write your recently gleaned nugget of wisdom on a single card, and then file it under an appropriate topic, which can be virtually anything (“Creativity,” “Finances,” “Humor”). Rather than force a range of topics on your commonplace book at the beginning, let your categories of interest emerge organically as you come across new bits you want to add. Furthermore, buying index cards in different colors can allow for another level of organization, such as the type of information stored on the card. For instance, you may decide to use pink cards for literary passages, white cards for overheard quotes, and green cards for ideas.

Notebooks. Another method involves filling notebooks with commonplace entries. While this fosters less flexibility, you can still create a system for sorting your chosen tidbits. Leave space at the beginning of each notebook for a table of contents, within which you are free to enter anything (a title, a source, a brief summary) that quickly evokes the specific quote, idea, or anecdote that you’ve written down in the book. Also leave space at the end of each notebook for an index. Here you can list topics or themes that appear within the entries of your commonplace book (“Leadership,” “Nature,” “Writing”), as well as the type or source of information gathered (“quote,” “story,” “idea”) if you wish. The notebook approach makes it a bit easier to cross-reference when an entry touches on more than one topic or theme.

Digital. You can use various apps and word-processing programs for digital commonplacing. Depending upon the program, you may be able to tag individual entries with relevant topics, themes, info types, and sources, and then later sort your entries using the tag of your choice.

Whatever method you use for commonplacing, the most important thing is to keep adding to your book. This is a lifelong process, and its value increases the more that you put into it.

Benefits of Keeping a Commonplace Book

To remember what inspired you. Living in the Information Age, it’s easy to come across interesting figures of speech, inspirational passages, and new favorite quotes—and just as easy to forget them once you’ve moved on to something else. Having your own commonplace book allows you to return to these tidbits and rediscover the feeling they originally gave you.

To save hours on research. If you’ve got a writing project—whether it’s an article, a speech, a novel, or a memoir—having a commonplace book can save you tons of time. You can skip scouring your memory, searching the Internet, or combing through the marginalia of your book collection when you have a personalized encyclopedia of quotations, references, and ideas.

To find unexpected connections. Commonplacing is a unique form of note-taking in that you are basically bookmarking anything that you find interesting. Depending on your system of cataloging, this means a quote from a Greek philosopher might end up next to a lyric from a pop song or a story a friend told you. In writing, such connections can lead to inspiration.

To focus your future reading. As your own commonplace book evolves, you may find that you have a new lens by which to approach and examine media you consume. Reading books, listening to podcasts, or even having conversations can become didactic pursuits as you seek out perspectives and information that add to or differ from what you’ve already gathered.

Who Uses Commonplacing?

The idea of a commonplace book goes at least as far back as the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, whose Meditations—a vital text in Stoic philosophy—began as a private collection of notes, thoughts, and quotations.

The form picked up popularity in the Middle Ages thanks to Erasmus’s instructive De Copia.

It grew across the Renaissance (Francis Bacon made over 1,600 entries in his commonplace book) and the Enlightenment when John Locke penned A New Method of Making Common-Place-Books.

Commonplacing was adopted by all sorts of intellectuals by the 17th and 18th centuries and continues to be to this day.

Thomas Jefferson was known to keep one commonplace book for legal references and another for literary ones.

Authors like Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mark Twain, and Virginia Woolf used the technique, while modern proponents include Ronald Reagan and Bill Gates.

Though essentially a written form of scrapbooking, commonplacing has been valuable to countless big thinkers over the years.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLAVENDER HAZE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N drowns amidst so much criticism and negative comments from the media regarding her relationship, but Matt is right by her side to bring her back to the surface and surround her in a lavender haze.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　mentions of hate, slightly angst.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²　::　This fic was written for the Challenge for the writers 2024 made by @annamcdonalds67

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

Y/N lay down next to Matt on the double bed that decorated the room. The soft gloom emanated from the corner lamp, painting the scene with orange tones. Their intertwined fingers on the mattress formed a comforting bond, a silent affirmation of each other's presence there. Together, they observed the ceiling as if they were tracing constellations on the white paint in their minds.

The silence that surrounded them was serene, and their synchronized breathing seemed to compose a soft song. Matt knew that sometimes words were unnecessary. There was no need to try to force empty conversations when each other's presence was enough.

Y/N's thoughts, however, were a whirlwind. The sudden exposure that accompanied her relationship with Matt - which they just had revealed to the public some months before - had left her overwhelmed, despite her boyfriend's advance warnings about what followed him with his career. As someone who preferred a low-key life, being dragged into the spotlight of fame was suddenly a big experience.

While her body was physically in the room, her mind felt the weight of these thoughts slowly crushing her. It was an internal battle to maintain sanity amid the media storm that surrounded them.

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

Matt, on his side, noticed the melancholy in Y/N's eyes and the way her brow was constantly frowning, but he respected her silence. He understood the pressure she faced; the crazed fans who used her words against herself and criticized every second of the videos she made a little appearance or was only mentioned, and his heart burned to be able to help her more, but he knew that trying to interpret her thoughts could only increase her distress, his own mind bringing him the mere memory of the episode from some night's before.

To the soft sound of popcorn crackling in the kitchen next door, Y/N anxiously waited for Matt on the made bed, wrapped in the comfort of the fluffy comforter. Her phone rested in her hands, and she slid her fingers across the screen to access her Instagram feed. A notification caught her attention, a tag on a photo posted by the boy.

With an anticipated smile, Y/N opened the post and found herself among the images of a photo dump posted a few hours ago. Her heart filled with warmth when she saw the picture of them together, the girl didn't know how to explain what she felt when she saw him post so openly about them, having gone through difficult situations in this regard in her previous relationship.

However, her smile faded when she swiped down and was met with an avalanche of comments. Thousands of cruel words and cutting criticisms flooded the massive list. Comments that questioned who she thought she was, insinuations that she wasn't good enough, and that Matt deserved someone better. Every word was a blow to her heart, a confirmation of all the fears and insecurities she had kept hidden inside.

Feeling crushed by the virtual pressure, a wave of anguish enveloped her. Tears began to blur her vision as she struggled to contain her overflowing emotions, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the situation, much less worry Matt.

Her head filled with questions, how could she compete with the unrealistic expectations of those who observed her life through a screen?

Minutes passed in a second for her, the sound of the door opening again echoed softly, Matt's figure entering the room following it, the tempting smell of popcorn floating in the air and a childish smile decorating his face. His smile fell instantly when he saw Y/N holding the phone tightly with one of her hands, tears rolling down her face while her other hand pressed her mouth, forcing away the sobs.

"Hey, hey, babe, what happened?" Matt ran over to her, his tone full of worry, leaving the bucket of popcorn on the bedside table and kneeling next to her on the bed.

Y/N sobs as she tries to explain, showing him the cruel comments that filled her entire screen, the device shaking slightly as a result of her trembling fingers.

Matt felt his heart break when he saw the suffering on Y/N's face and the ridiculous words in front of him. Him mind was divided between helping her or posting something obscene, full of insults, and totally guided from his emotional side.

The boy sighs, closing his eyes and wishing to take the bad things away from his girl before sitting properly next to her, wrapping her in his arms affectionately and bringing her head to his chest, sealing her hair line for long seconds.

"I'm so sorry, petal. I didn't know this was going to happen. I should have thought before posting..." He murmured, gently stroking her back as Y/N clings to him for comfort. "I'll figure it out, I promise."

I been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah)

You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah)

All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)

With that, it was known that Y/N was constantly under the relentless eyes of the fandom and obsessed fanpages, her every move being dissected and analyzed minutely by the voracious eyes of anonymous people. But that was the price to pay for dating a public figure.

While facing this incessant storm of unsolicited attention, she couldn't help but admire how Matt, despite his issues with anxiety and certain unnecessary comments left by people who called themselves fans, handled the problems of notoriety with admirable patience and calm.

He seemed so comfortable on camera alongside his brothers, so skilled at ignoring invasive situations that Y/N often found herself questioning how he did it. However, for her, this was all unfamiliar and intimidating territory, too new.

Although she passionately wanted to quickly adapt to this new lifestyle, as she had no plans to leave Matt, she also found herself racing toward an uncertain direction, trying to keep her sanity and identity intact amid the media chaos that surrounded her.

The couch enveloped them in a comfortable embrace as Y/N and Matt enjoyed the peace of the silent living room, the soft sound of a Disney movie echoing in the background. Matt's arms around Y/N were a sanctuary of calm, warming her body and bringing her a comfort that made her feel like she could sleep any moment. It was one of those rare moments when they could simply exist t the interference of the fast-paced world around them.

Matt, with a sigh of contentment, reached for his phone, curious to see how the car video they had posted a few minutes ago was doing, eager to see what the fans thought of the themes brought up.

Quickly, he opened the YouTube app and scrolled through the comments. Among a flood of compliments and kind words, however, some less favorable comments caught his attention. Some criticized the way he was quieter than usual, while others questioned why he was even part of the videos, as he had nothing to add.

Matt rolled his eyes in a dismissive gesture as he turned the screen of his phone towards Y/N, allowing her to read the comments that filled the space.

"Look at that." Matt said, exasperated. "These people have nothing better to do than criticize anything and everything. Immature teenagers who love to point out only negative things." He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Locking the screen of his phone with a brusque gesture, he left it aside on the couch, refusing to let the negative comments ruin his moment of peace. The boy turned to Y/N again, his smile returning as if nothing had happened and wrapping his arms around her once more.

"Sorry about that, pretty girl." The brunette asked softly against her skin, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Sometimes people just need to spread negativity to feel better about themselves. But let's not let that get to us, hm?" He lifted his head from where it was, smiling small at his girl before pressing small seals on the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, eliciting loud laughter from the girl.

[...] All they keep asking me (all they keep asking me)

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see (the only kind of girl they see)

Is a one-night or a wife

Post after post from the significant number of fans who adored them together claimed that they were "endgame", as they had been in a relationship for over a year and seemed to be going strong.

But the comments that followed were always like a punch to the gut for Y/N. Some argued that she was Matt's future bride, while others insinuated that she was just a "gold digger", there to take advantage of his fame and money, like a one night stand, before eventually leaving him.

Y/N's feelings fluctuated between anger and sadness. How dare they question her true feelings for Matt? How could they judge their relationship based on unfounded assumptions and speculation? They were only 20 years old, marriage was out of the question at that moment, and they both knew that this kind of thing is something planned and thought out together, never done for the emotion of the moment or to meet the needs of others.

A feeling of helplessness invaded her when she read those things, accompanied by a hint of doubt. Y/N felt deep pain due to the lack of trust and support from Matt's own fans. She had tried so hard to be a positive presence in his life, to love and support him unconditionally, and to make the people who meant the most to him and who brought him to the top really like her.

And now, she was faced with the cruelty of strangers who were ready to judge her without even truly knowing her.

I find it dizzying (yeah, oh, yeah)

They're bringing up my history (yeah, oh, yeah)

But you weren't even listening (yeah, oh, yeah)

Y/N felt constantly dizzy with everything that was happening around her. It was as if she was in the eye of a media hurricane, where waves of curiosity and intrusion were endlessly engulfing her. Even with her social networks private, she found herself inundated by a flood of fanatical fans, eager to discover even the smallest detail of her life.

The triplets' YouTube videos, in which she participated, were constant targets of investigation by fans. Every word, every gesture captured by the camera, was analyzed. And the boys' posts, where she occasionally appeared, were scoured thoroughly for any hint of her personal life.

The simple act of even appearing on a TikTok for a brief second was enough to trigger a new wave of speculation and conspiracy theories from fans. Y/N felt like she was looking over her shoulder every moment.

This growing fear began to affect her willingness to participate in the brothers' videos and appear on their social media. She retreated into the shadows, avoiding the curious eyes that surrounded her.

Meanwhile, Matt scrolled through his social media feed, the cruel and mean comments about Y/N flashed on his phone screen at every moment. "She only wants to hurt him", "She's only with him for the money", "She will run away at the first opportunity". The words penetrated like sharp knives, but he faced them with a calm expression.

He could feel the anger pulsing through his veins. The injustice of these accusations made him want to scream. But he forced himself to remain calm, to take a deep breath and remember what really mattered.

Matt knew Y/N better than he knew himself. He knew she wasn't a gold digger, that she wasn't with him out of interest or for any petty reason. He knew that she genuinely loved him, that they shared the same dreams and fears, joys, and sadness.

So he ignored the negative comments, the people who hid behind anonymous profiles to spread venom and hate. Sometimes, he even had the small pleasure of responding to these accusations with an ironic comment or a joke, knowing that, deep down, none of it mattered.

Because he trusted Y/N. He loved her more than anything in the world, and nothing could shake that unshakable trust he had in her.

[...] Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest (woah, woah, woah, woah)

Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)

Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

But on the other side, the moments of exhaustion seemed to multiply for Y/N, like a lingering shadow that followed her with every step. Increasingly, she found herself sinking into a sea of ​​cruel comments and venomous speculation from the media and fans.

Until a specific moment, where she finally understood that with Matt, she found the strength to fight it gradually. His arms wrapped around her with comforting warmth. His words of encouragement were like a balm to her soul. He supported her in every way possible, constantly reminding her of how much she was loved and valued and that nothing they said mattered.

Y/N slowly learned to filter the noise of the outside world, to block out the negative voices that tried to invade her mind. She no longer allowed the mean comments to get to her, choosing to ignore, block or mute them, allowing them to get everything they wanted off their chest and go viral using her name, and not giving a damn about it.

It was a gradual process, a journey of self-discovery and self-transformation. Y/N still had her moments of weakness, her doubts and fears, like in that moment. But with Matt by her side, she was able to cover her ears and eyes to them.

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal

The 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

And despite all the bad things, being alone at that moment with Matt in their own haven was comforting. A lavender haze enveloped Y/N gently, like a warm lilac hug amidst the darkness of uncertainty, protecting her from external judgments.

In the comfort of their room, with Matt's presence beside her, she felt as if she could close her eyes and simply let herself be carried away by the constant flow of love she felt for the boy.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts that danced in her mind along with vague memories of all the futile posts from pages that gossip about artists, demanding surreal things from her as if they had just come out of a time machine to the past, there, in that moment, she allowed herself to sink into the depths of this good feeling.

Matt's presence by her side was like a protective shield, pushing away all her fears and insecurities. His eyes, full of tenderness and understanding, met hers from time to time, conveying a silent message that he was there, ready to face any challenge alongside her. And there was nothing in the world that made him want to leave there.

With one smooth movement, Matt turned briefly to reach for the lavender air freshener that rested on the nightstand next to the bed. He activates the device with a delicate touch, releasing a fragrant mist that fills the room with the sweet scent of the flower. The soft, comforting scent envelops Y/N like a hug, calming her agitated mind and bringing an almost instantaneous feeling of serenity.

The mattress moved with Matt's movements, and he slowly turned around, now lying on his side and facing Y/N. His eyes met hers lovingly, and a smile played on his lips as he moved closer until their bodies were mere inches away.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" His voice was as soft as the cotton beneath their bodies, echoing off the walls that were surrounded by silence for long minutes.

"Uhm." Y/N murmured back, imitating him and turning so that she was lying on her side, facing him, the fog in her mind slowly dissipating.

With soft and delicate movements, Matt wrapped the girl in his arms, bringing her closer to his body, laying her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming hers almost automatically.

"They don't matter, you know?"

Y/N felt a comforting warmth spread throughout her entire being upon hearing the brief and almost insignificant words, but that meant the world to her. She snuggled even closer to Matt, feeling his arms tighten around her waist where they held, allowing herself to sink into them like a safe haven from the storms of the outside world.

Matt lowered his head and gently kissed the top of his girl's head, breathing in the soft scent of lavender shampoo that emanated from her strands. Every touch was filled with love and devotion, a silent promise that he was there.

And so, cradled by the soft haze of love that surrounded them, Y/N and Matt surrendered to the present moment, the girl leaving behind all the worries and fears that haunted her, her heart begging to stay there forever.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

© vanteguccir

[ekssims]

good news about Sims 2 legacy

After doing tip 5 (and using this article as a guide) and making a few performance changes based on this video, I experienced major improvements in the game.

I did 25,000 as my minimum and 30,000 as my maximum, updated my visual performance, disabled some startup apps and services, and optimized my browser. The biggest issue for Sims 2 and other games for me is my memory/RAM and I have more now after making these changes!

I could play Sims 2 Legacy for many hours!

The load times were quicker for me (they already kind of were before but there's still an improvement imo).

I got just about no lag

I was able to put glasses on my sim in-game lol

I had some game errors that I need to fix personally, but I was able to play two households and everything went well! For the first household, I decorated, my sim went on a date and they went to a few locations.

While playing the second household (in a different neighborhood), I played as normal for a while and tried to go out, granted, I did get pink soup, but the game didn't crash once!

I took my time with both households and just played as normal. I could exit the game myself and I was happy! After increasing my virtual memory and disabling some things, I think things are looking up!

I just wanted to share in case anyone bought Sims 2 Legacy and is still having issues. I will test out the Ultimate Collection, same with ReShade and custom lighting in the game files this week, as well as creating sims/pets, as they have given me crash problems in the past too! I will update this again too!

Note: I had mods and custom content active in my game too! My downloads folder is 19.3 GB. I also bought the Steam version!

[medicineinside]

How to study during bad days 🙇🏻‍♀️

We all have those days when studying feels impossible. But science-backed strategies can help you stay on track even when motivation is low!

🧠 1. Use the “5-Minute Rule”

Research shows that getting started is often the hardest part. Tell yourself you’ll study for just 5 minutes—chances are, you’ll keep going!

🛋️ 2. Change Your Study Environment

Your brain associates places with tasks. If you’re feeling stuck, try moving to a different room, a café, or even just switching seats.

🎶 3. Listen to Binaural Beats

Studies suggest that binaural beats (frequencies like 40Hz) can improve focus and reduce stress. Classical or Lo-Fi music can also help!

🌿 4. Try Aromatherapy

Scents like rosemary and peppermint have been proven to enhance memory and concentration. Diffuse essential oils or keep a scented sachet nearby.

💡 5. Use the “Energy Matching” Technique

🔹 Low-energy? Do passive tasks like reading or watching study videos.

🔹 High-energy? Tackle active tasks like problem-solving or note-making.

☀️ 6. Get Natural Light Exposure

Sunlight boosts serotonin and helps regulate your body’s natural clock, keeping you alert. If you’re indoors, sit near a window or use a daylight lamp.

🫂 7. Body Doubling for Motivation

Studying with someone (even virtually!) increases accountability. Try joining an online study session or using apps like StudyStream.

🍫 8. Eat Brain-Boosting Snacks

Dark chocolate, nuts, and berries can enhance cognitive function and sustain energy levels. Avoid heavy meals that might make you sluggish.

❤️ 9. Be Kind to Yourself

On tough days, lower your expectations. Even a little progress is better than none. Focus on consistency over perfection.

🔄 10. Use the “Looping Method” for Retention

Revisiting the same topic multiple times in short bursts strengthens memory—this is called spaced repetition and is backed by neuroscience!

💬 Which of these tips do you use on bad days? Let’s help each other out!

[eretzyisrael]

By Susan Edelman and Deirdre Bardolf

Activists and foreign actors have infiltrated the city’s public schools with anti-Israel materials, fostering bias and hatred of Jews, according to a new report by a nonprofit think tank.

Teacher groups like NYC Educators for Palestine have collaborated with extremist organizations, some allegedly tied to hostile foreign governments and terrorist groups, to bring “radical, anti-American ideologies” into schools, said the Network Contagion Research Institute, or NCRI, and the advocacy group New York City Public School Alliance, which co-wrote the report.

“The report exposes how the Department of Education’s vetted resources enable radical sympathizers to shape young minds with biased information,” said Tova Plaut, a DOE pre-K coordinator and co-founder with teacher Karen Feldman of NYCPS Alliance, a group of Jewish educators who contributed to the project.

8An “Arab World” classroom map at Brooklyn’s PS 261 that excluded Israel was provided by the Qatar Foundation, an arm of the country’s ruling family, which has donated $1 million to NYC schools.

8The report found a network of “radical” curriculum developers, activist educator groups and foreign influences that have contributed to the infiltration of anti-Israel materials within the NYC public school system.NCRI

Set for release this week, the report cites DOE documents, school events and staff social media posts as evidence of its findings.

It calls on the DOE to immediately conduct a curriculum review; enforce the chancellor’s anti-discrimination policies; adopt a definition of antisemitism and mandate training on it; and increase oversight of foreign funding.

“If these ideas are left unchecked, they will be internalized by a new generation of students, who will then  graduate, attend university, vote, enter the workforce, and raise families of their own, further embedding antisemitic beliefs into wider American society,” the NCRI and NYC Public Schools Alliance said.

Among the findings:

The DOE’s recommended resources for teachers include the Zinn Education Project, which provide lessons, workshops and articles highly critical of Israel and the US.

The DOE staff resource list links to the Zinn website, which features a section on “Teaching About Palestine-Israel and the Unfolding Genocide in Gaza” that claims, “Israel has turned Gaza into a ‘graveyard for children.”

Beacon High School in Midtown used Zinn lessons and articles, along with videos from Arab news network Al Jazeera, for a 10th-grade social studies class on the Israel-Palestine conflict, emails reviewed by The Post show.

The content “demonized Jews” while referring to Hamas as “a political party and militant group,” not as terrorists, parents said.

Other resources available for NYC teachers to use at “their discretion” include those from the Teach Palestine project, which gives materials that emphasize “Palestinian victimhood” and frame Zionism as a “colonialist” movement.

Teach Palestine is financially supported by the Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA), a California-based nonprofit with reported ties to the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a U.S.-designated terrorist organization.

In May, the PTA of Ella Baker School, a public elementary on the Upper West Side, hosted a “Teach Palestine” webinar, sponsored by Rethinking Schools, the report said.

Materials covered topics such as “anti-Zionism is not automatically antisemitism,” and “Israel’s attacks on children, schools, and historical memory in Palestine.”

These potentially violate Chancellor’s Regulation A-830, according to the report. 

The report cites two groups, NYC Educators For Palestine, an arm of the UFT caucus MORE, and Teaching While Muslim, which hosted a virtual “curriculum share” for 80 teachers in February.

[alphajocklover]

What happens if a girl uses instajock?

What if a girl uses InstaJock? That's a fairly simple question that, like many things with InstaJock, has a fairly complicated answer. See, InstaJock wasn’t built for girls. I’m not sure if it's because whatever the developers use to turn people into jocks isn’t strange enough to change someone's gender, or if they’re just not into female to male transformations, or whatever, but I know it doesn’t work on girls. But… girls can still get invited to the app, and what does happen is fairly intriguing. When a girl gets an invite to InstaJock they'll have an intense urge to set up an account on the app, just like guys do. But when they set up their account they aren’t transformed. They become… carriers. I know what makes it sound like the app is some kind of disease or something, and well that metaphor isn’t entirely inaccurate, I use it here mainly because there's no other way to explain it. A woman can get infected by InstaJock, but they won’t get transformed themselves. It’s the men in their life that have to worry. When a girl uses InstaJock and becomes a carrier, nothing about her will change. There are some small symptoms, like an increase in libido and the memories of the app itself growing fuzzy, but besides that it's virtually undetectable. Until they touch a guy. Now, when I say touch, I don’t mean any kind of touch. People passing on the street have no reason to fear carriers. When they touch a guy it has to be an… intimate touch. A kiss, a grope, even a long enough hug. The first guy they touch intimately has the Instajock ‘infection’ passed onto them. They become a total and complete jock, just as dumb and buff as anyone who had actually used the app. Although it's a little more specific than that. They don’t just become a jock, they become the carrier's dream jock. The kind of jock that's perfect to sweep them off their feet and then almost immediately have intense, mind breaking sex with them. Then, once the girl is spent, the new jock goes on their phone and finds the app, waiting there for them like it was always there. Their account already set up, they post a picture of them and their babe of a girlfriend, and go back for round two. The carrier, after any number of intense rounds of fucking, comes out from under the influence of InstaJock, no longer ‘infectious’, a little confused, but very happy to have a studly jock boyfriend. 

So, in short, InstaJock doesn’t change girls, but it changes the first guy the girl gets intimate with. I always assumed that InstaJock changed people through the light of their phones or something, but the more I learn about it the more I’m convinced it's something else. I just can’t tell what. What I can say is that if you happen to be straight (which, lets face it, you’re here, you’re not straight), bisexual, pansexual or whatever, be careful about who you hook up with. You’d be surprised how much one hook up can change your life.

[bairdthereader]

Intentional Touch, Respected Space: A By-Episode Study, Part 2

This is the space where their love grows in safety.

S1E2: Crush

[Note: My longest and giffy-est post yet, but episode 2 is nothing short of monumental in the Narlie relationship. Grab a cuppa, a few biscuits, settle in, and enjoy!]

When we pick up with episode two, Nick and Charlie are in their private spaces, both trying to process the events of the day. Charlie does this by playing the drums and likely engaging in some very negative and circular thought patterns. Nick, meanwhile, is busy integrating this new knowledge of Charlie’s life experience with Nick’s previous, less nuanced perception of him. He’s trying to get a more complete picture of Charlie, to understand more deeply how this part of Charlie’s life affects the rest of it and makes him who he is. Of course he turns to the internet first, because Nick. We get the sense that maybe Nick has never really looked at Charlie’s Insta, based on how charmed he is by the first few lighthearted posts he sees. Then he comes across Charlie’s post succinctly expressing his hatred for school and his horrible experiences there.

This triggers a flood of memories of comments Nick had heard made about Charlie around the time he was outed the year before. While it’s highly unlikely that Nick hasn’t thought about this at all in the time he’s gotten to know Charlie, perhaps it’s been mostly background noise, or at least somewhat removed from his own experiences with Charlie. After witnessing Ben’s psychological and physical assault on Charlie, these memories have new profundity, clarity, and a terrible nearness. And they bring with them some delayed and misplaced guilt; now that Nick knows Charlie personally, he knows he would have done something about the past bullying if he’d had the chance. This is the wholeness of understanding Nick wants, even if it is uncomfortable and distressing, and with it comes a pressing concern for Charlie’s well-being. Nick feels an intense need to check in, so he does.

Of course it must be noted that Charlie made the virtual check-in leap first, after a bout of classic Charlie Spring overthinking. Justified overthinking in this case, since Charlie is highly aware that, immediately after he and Nick were pushed across boundaries in their friendship by the confrontation with Ben, he’s stepping over another line by adding texting to the mix. At the risk of getting a bit too meta, I’ll say this counts as an intentional, if virtual, touch. It’s a point of contact, reaching across the space between them, and though there’s an asynchrony to this form of touch, it’s still a new type of closeness for Nick and Charlie. It’s clear that they have not exchanged messages before, so by establishing this connection Charlie moves their communication from school-based and public to online and private. It doesn’t seem like a big deal on the face of it, but it is; it’s a pebble dropped in a pond that starts a flood.

Especially when Nick decides to reciprocate. Another thing we have to note here is that, in direct contrast to Ben’s rapid-fire, aggressive texts with Charlie, Nick gives Charlie time to respond. He respects that space between them, the room Charlie needs to emotionally maneuver and figure out how much he wants to tell Nick about Ben. Only when his uneasiness over Charlie's silence grows too great does he follow up on his original question, and even then, he continues to respect the space. He acknowledges Charlie’s right to keep things to himself, and simply offers a confirmation of his friendship, reiterating to Charlie that he is safe and trustworthy, and then leaving Charlie to decide on his own.

Charlie chooses to trust and share.

This new thread of connection snaps taut between them, and it never loosens again.

There now exists an increased ease between Nick and Charlie. When Nick invites Charlie to his house (ostensibly to meet Nellie), Charlie's posture is clearly relaxed and just slightly curled toward Nick, while Nick’s invitation is delivered easily and with no hesitation. Now, not only do they have private online conversation, they also have time together away from the social confines of school, time that belongs only to them. Another boundary is removed, that space between them narrowed just a bit more.

After requisite “hi”s have been exchanged and Nellie has been given the attention she rightfully deserves, Nick practically flings himself across the intentional touch divide. Charlie’s had a haircut (has he though? I’m with Tori on this one), and Nick reaches out, across the open doorway, to gently tug at Charlie’s curls. Charlie is obviously surprised, pleased, and a little confused. But this is a clear indicator from Nick, and a fairly clear acceptance from Charlie, that this kind of playful touch now falls within the bounds of their friendship. While there's a lot going on here for Nick as he realizes he does, in fact, notice aspects of Charlie's physical appearance and have strong enough reactions to them to both have and offer an opinion, he is not intentionally flirting with this gesture any more than Charlie is by asking nervously if the haircut is bad. Any flirting here is accidental or subconscious; they're still maintaining that caring respect for each other.

After Nick lists (just a few, it must be said) of Charlie’s positive qualities, Charlie mirrors Nick’s earlier playfulness with some of his own, covering Nick’s mouth with his hand and pushing him down on the bed. This could easily have become a more heated moment for Charlie, but it doesn’t, in part because Charlie is still incredibly conscious of the space required by their differing vantage points on the relationship. He uses only one hand, the other still grasping the video game controller and held down by his side; he looks at Nick's face only for a brief second before diverting his gaze; and he lets Nick push him off easily. Still, this is a freer Charlie than we’ve seen thus far, a Charlie who understands that, crush and romantic feelings aside, he’s found someone he can be himself with, and with whom he can safely express some affection, even if he has to keep the larger part of it concealed. Nick is surprised but responds in kind, equally playful with a huge smile and laughing “get off me!” (though notably slow to actually physically push Charlie away). His face clearly shows delight in witnessing a side of Charlie he hasn’t seen before, and these moments of casual but respectful touch have played a part in that.

Then comes the snow, and possibly the sweetest montage of the whole season. Here is a place where they can bring joy and easy openness into that safe, respected space between them. We get a glimpse of Nick brushing snow out of Charlie’s hair, shoving snow into the neck of Charlie’s coat, and flopping down to make a snow angel close enough to Charlie to brush his arm. Charlie’s delighted surprise is a little more nuanced, because the beginnings of hope are making themselves known, and there's a little bit of speculation in the way he views Nick's actions.

Despite Nick’s clear comfort with Charlie’s nearness (only Nellie separates them in this final scene, and Nick’s upper arm is crossed over Charlie’s while they talk in the snow), Charlie is still a bit more restrained—he doesn’t initiate much of this contact. He’s conscious of the fact that touch still means something slightly different, slightly more, to him than it does to Nick, so he generally allows Nick to choose when to use intentional touch.

While Nick’s conversation with his mom later isn’t about touch, I do think it’s there in the subtext. Sarah tells Nick he seems more himself around Charlie, so we have to conclude that she’s at least partly referencing the relaxed playfulness Nick experiences with Charlie (which is absent or at least different from his interactions with the rugby lads, with whom Nick is always aware, on some level, of the persona he is expected to present in that environment). Nick’s default setting is physical affection, but he’s been holding back all this time. With Charlie, Nick can let down his guard, trusting that the safe space they're nurturing between them, where they can see each other clearly and authentically, will allow Charlie to appreciate this essential part of Nick's nature.

The result—according to Nick, one of his favorite days, ever.

---

Much confusion and speculation about Nick's sexuality and romantic availability ensue among Charlie's friend group, causing Charlie to have extreme doubts about those stirrings of hope he felt while spending time with Nick. Nick immediately understands that something is wrong, and Charlie's highly uncharacteristic reticence toward him lets Nick know that whatever is wrong clearly has something to do with himself. He very deliberately puts a little extra space between them, trying to give Charlie room if that's what he needs, while also turning to face him a little more completely, opening himself up and communicating a willingness to listen. When Charlie still declines to talk, Nick, with his characteristic emotional intelligence, leans back in, removing that extra space, helping Charlie see that whatever's going on, Nick wants to understand it and, if he can, help fix it. Charlie, after an internal battle, briefly but decisively sets aside his doubts to ask Nick to come round his house. After all the drama and rumors, it comes down to just the two of them, as it always should have been, offering each other the space and support and patience they need to understand each other.

When Nick struggles in his attempts to play the drums, Charlie’s deeply buried but powerful self-confidence comes briefly to the fore and he tells Nick to budge up. He’s testing the waters here a little; by saying “let me help,” he’s still giving Nick the option to decline, but Charlie definitely isn't his usual deferential self in this moment. Nick does not decline; in fact, there is nervous excitement all over his face. Both of them are fully aware that they’re erasing that physical space between them—they’re pressed together from shoulder to knee—and they both agreed to be there.

Charlie takes Nick’s hands and guides him through a drum sequence, clearly focused and happy, in his wheelhouse for once, while Nick finally, fully realizes and admits to himself on some level that the kind of touch he wants to share with Charlie has changed. He can barely mask the confusion and exhilaration and little bit of fear that he’s feeling when Charlie stops playing and looks back up at him.

Then we have a very intentional removal of touch as Charlie recognizes that, maybe, this interaction affected Nick more intensely than Charlie, or even Nick, first thought it would. Charlie releases Nick’s hands and steps away, reinstating that safe space between them, giving Nick (and himself, really) a chance to assess how they’re both feeling. Nerves and uncertainty play a part in this, and Charlie is clearly a little concerned about appearing too flirty toward Nick, but by taking a step back he's also respecting that bit of fear and confusion he sees in Nick, trying to lessen it if he can.

And now we get to the most casually yet profoundly intimate scene thus far, as Charlie falls asleep on the couch while Nick watches a movie, both of them bathed in golden evening light and swathed in separate blankets, Nick much closer to Charlie's side of the couch than his own. Nick looks at Charlie with intensely confused longing—the first time he’s looking at Charlie when no one else, not even Charlie himself, can witness it—and wonders, what would it be like if this space between them was gone? What if he could be that close to Charlie?

And here he tests himself—does he have the nerve, or even the self-understanding required to take Charlie’s hand? Is that actually what he wants? Nick bravely pushes himself to cross the divide and confront his new reality. When he hovers his hand over Charlie’s, the intent to actually touch is there, but it’s not quite enough to overcome the fear and follow through. Nick pulls away, once again retreating into the safe space between them to process the fact that he very, very much wanted to hold Charlie’s hand. This happens not once, but twice, as Nick essentially double-checks his own impulses to make sure he understands them, to make sure he does feel this way about Charlie. Nick's gaze takes in Charlie's whole face--obviously there's a thought about kissing somewhere in there, but Nick is considering the entirety of his relationship with Charlie, the intensity of his emotions toward and about Charlie as a whole person. The potential for a different kind of intentional touch is just the final piece of that puzzle.

Now it’s late, quiet, and for all Nick and Charlie know they are, for the moment, alone (Tori’s lurking notwithstanding). There’s a sense, unspoken and shaky but undeniably there, that the tenor of their friendship has shifted. Charlie admits that he wishes Nick didn’t have to leave, a statement that, in a less charged setting would mean little. Here, though, it's a subtle admission of deeper feeling. Nick admits he would like to stay as well, and follows it up with a very telling line: “You look so . . . cuddly like that.” Lots of things are going on here. First, Nick is not looking at Charlie’s face for much of this exchange—he's looking at the rest of Charlie’s body. And this is only the second time Nick has commented on Charlie’s appearance; unlike when he notices Charlie’s haircut, here there is nothing obvious prompting this comment other than Nick’s own desire to voice his thoughts. Nick’s word choice is interesting, too. He could have said “cozy,” “comfy,” or some such. Instead, he says "cuddly," a word with connotations of both appearance and action, specifically reciprocal action. To say Charlie looks cuddly implies that Nick has thought about Charlie’s cuddlable-ness (not a word, but stay with me here). Combine that with the progression of the conversation—from admitting he doesn’t want to leave to telling Charlie he looks cuddly—indicates that Charlie’s cuddleable-ness is at least partly the reason Nick doesn’t want to leave.

Charlie, with all of his suppressed hope, tentatively picks up what Nick is putting down. “Do I?” really means, “did you mean that like I hope you meant it?” Nick responds with an emphatic “Yeah.” Then there is a pause while Nick holds a quick internal debate. Charlie waits, seeing clearly that Nick is struggling with something. As Charlie often does for Nick, he’s maintaining the space between them and allowing Nick to make his own decision about whether a meaningful touch is what he wants. This is one of Charlie’s most profound and consistent means of caring for and protecting Nick, and proof of how highly attuned he is to Nick’s conflicted emotions.

Nick comes to a clear decision and embraces Charlie for the first time. Charlie, unable to quite believe it and unsure of the meaning behind it, waits several beats to return the hug, giving Nick a lot of room to change his mind. And while Nick is clearly a bit panicked about his actions and their ramifications for him, while he is confused and scared, he intentionally, courageously chose this hug, this meaningful touch, as an expression of his deep care for Charlie.

And this is when that actual physical space between them becomes intangible space. It is still there, still a vastly important part of their evolving relationship, but when Nick and Charlie are alone, that space is now held between their minds and hearts rather than in the tangible world.

[pjmmania]

To Be a Viper - Part II

Content Warnings: References to sex, mentions of suicide, grief

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Thank you for supporting this work so far. It’s been really awesome to watch the numbers climb little by little, especially for a small account like mine! Let me know in the comments what you think - I’d love to hear from you. Thanks again and enjoy Part II:)

—————

Jimin pushed himself off the rock wall with his right foot. He let out a breath, as if he’d been waiting to hear you say those words all day, that you were ready to give him whatever information he needed. He tilted his head towards the house, gesturing for you to follow him back the way you came.

“It’s a simple question,” He said, “And it’s alright if the answer doesn’t come to you right away.”

“Okay.” You replied wearily.

“What I need to know, and what Yohan would like to get out of you, is where your parents were stockpiling the weapons.”

You were at a loss, "How would I possibly know the answer to that?"

"Like I said, it's okay if it doesn't come to you right now," Jimin was being gentle, even encouraging, "But you likely do know the answer. When my father was explaining everything to us, right after we left home, he told us that he suspected the weapons were being taken out of the country, possibly to a remote location."

"What made him think that?"

"Well, because it would make sense, wouldn't it? Our parents were so close for so long. They knew virtually everything about each other. So if one party needed to keep something hidden, then that hiding place would best be somewhere far and unexpected."

You crossed your arms as you walked along lazily, deriding him, "No offense, Jimin, but that seems like a pretty loose theory. It's based on nothing but conjecture."

He looked at you and smirked, "Great minds think alike. I thought so too at first, but then I remembered when your father took you on that one spontaneous trip. Remember? It was our freshman year of high school, so the timeline matches up fairly well."

"Yes," You mumbled, trying to piece something together in your mind, "He wouldn't tell me where we were going, saying it was a surprise."

Memories replayed in your head. You remembered your impromptu getaway with your father. Jimin was correct - it was right at the beginning of high school. It was a fond memory of your father, until now. You were so giddy about it when it happened. He gave you only a day to pack, increasing your wonder and excitement. When you discovered you were heading to America, you were overjoyed. You'd always wanted to visit.

Jimin nodded, "Probably because he didn't want you to tell me, for fear that it would get back to my parents. And I recall you being secretive about it when you returned, which was strange. It was one of the only times you kept something from me.”

"Right...Before we left, he told me that it would be nice to have this one vacation just between us, as father and daughter. I guess I was happy to play along. We didn't have anything like that, a fun little secret just for us."

"Where did you end up going, Y/N?" He nudged you cautiously, eager for the information but careful of your emotions.

You recalled the exact spot. You could see it, you could smell it. That charming little cottage on that gorgeous lake in the mountains, birds chirping in the western hemlock treeline surrounding you.

But you couldn't remember the name of that place.

Jimin noticed your eyes darting around as you wracked your brain for something. He was going to be patient with you on this.

"I-I don't know what it was called," You got frustrated with yourself, "I can see it so clearly, though. I remember that trip so well. We were somewhere in America. There were mountains nearby, and we stayed in a cottage on a lake. The lake let out to a bigger body of water. I don't know the name of it for some reason. It was really secluded, not a place that people...that people would know."

You closed your eyes, almost embarrassed that you just confirmed his whole theory in real-time.

The mafia boss was losing count of how many times you’d managed to weaken his resolve since the morning. He felt the pull to put his arm around you, just as he had countless times in a past life. Caving to this impulse, he placed his arm around your shoulder and walked you along.

“It’s alright,” He assured you, “The name will come to you. Thank you for telling me this.”

Feeling his semi-embrace came with so much nostalgia. It was precisely what you longed for in that moment, a glimpse of what life used to be - not only before this terrible day, but before your father died. When you and Jimin were close, when you had someone you could lean on for anything.

It was a cruel predicament indeed, where the man who had just blown up your life was also the only one who could console you.

You allowed your body to lean on his as you traversed upon the sand.

“So is this all your life is?” You inquired quietly, “Just guns and schemes and always having to watch your back?”

He chuckled and squeezed you closer in a manner that resembled a familiar playfulness, “Of course not. I still enjoy my life, all of us do. We have to do a lot a dirty work, but it has its perks. We get to travel. We have fun.”

“When did you meet all those guys?” You asked.

Jimin shrugged, “They all came aboard at various times. Picked them up as I’ve gone along. Their backgrounds are pretty diverse. Namjoon is one of the sharpest people I’ve ever met and the first one I brought on board. He worked for my parents, actually. Helped connect them to firearm manufacturers that were willing to help in their black market sales. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Hoseok all come from different street gangs. Jin came from a rich family, super smart. He went to medical school but got kicked out for selling drugs right out of the hospital. He’s saved a few of our lives before, sewn up some bullet wounds here and there.”

“Have you been shot before?”

He nodded, but it didn’t seem to bother him, “Once, yes. On my left thigh, but thanks to Jin’s expertise I was able to recover pretty quickly. One of Yohan’s little cronies did it. Got me while I was leaving a nightclub. I haven’t let myself be that careless since.”

You didn’t know what to say, “I’m sorry.”

Jimin smirked, “I’m not. That fucking sleaze accomplished the opposite of what he intended. I became more alive then ever. I got tougher, more refined.”

There was a period of silence. The breeze weaved through the gap between your bodies, its subtle whistle filling your ears.

Then you thought of the one member of the group he hadn’t talked about, the one who currently could not have ranked any lower on your scorecard.

“What about Taehyung?”

He looked at your face, detecting some malice in your conviction, “I met Tae almost a full year ago at a, shall we say, gentlemen’s club.”

It could be interpreted as warped, but that made you giggle a little. Your system needed to be lighthearted, it needed something to laugh at, “That makes perfect sense.”

Jimin was confused at your change in attitude, yet welcomed the sound of your genuine laughter, “Oh it does, does it?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “The one you met at a strip club was the one you sent to be all slimy and flirtatious with me. The womanizer.”

He smiled and laughed a little too, “When you put it that way, I guess it is a bit on-the-nose.”

Your mood sobered shortly after you got back inside the house. The remainder of the day was spent in a limbo. Jimin showed you the rest of the Safe House just to pass some more time. Eventually, you simply retreated back up to your assigned room.

The guys and the staff gave you your space. After the story had been told, it felt like it was alright to call it a day. You had taken in all that your body could handle. Not even hungry for dinner, you remained in your room for the rest of the day and fell asleep early.

The following morning, the boss went about the typical routine. He got out of bed and padded into his bathroom to shower and brush his teeth.

Looking into the mirror, Jimin examined his slicked-back hair. He noticed how far his dark roots had grown and realized it was time to dye it again.

It was something he’d done periodically, to change appearance. He’d been blonde for a long time. Perhaps he was due for a new color, but he set that down for now.

He went downstairs, where Bongcha was scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees.

Jimin went and crouched down in front of her.

“Good morning, Sir.” She smiled with labored breath. She swept a piece of hair out of her face.

“Morning,” He shared his own friendly grin, “Care to tell me what you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning the floors,” the maid said innocently, knowing the question was well-intended, “I didn’t have the time to do it before your arrival, so I thought I might-”

Jimin cut her off, stopping her sponge-clutching hand from moving, “No, this kind of manual work won’t be your burden for the time being. Not in your condition.”

Bongcha seemed relieved yet concerned.

The boss knew exactly what she was thinking and squashed it immediately, “Don’t worry. I have a household full of healthy men who are quite capable of doing their fair share of chores.”

The maid let out a sigh, but smiled with a nod, “I think I have to agree with you on that, Sir.”

Jimin chuckled and helped her to her feet, “It’s about time we all stop being a bunch of bums around here, huh? Come have breakfast with me. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

Bongcha agreed. This was the side of this man she was trying to tell you about the day before. Fiercely loyal to and caring toward those in his inner circle.

They sat in the dining room together and ate Eunji’s delightful cooking. Both of them would attest that she made the best scrambled eggs on the planet. Jimin had coffee, and she had decaffeinated tea.

The boss took this opportunity to ask her an important question, “How has he been with you as of late?”

She swallowed her bite and tilted her head candidly, “Not too bad.”

“That’s not good.”

“I think he’s just still getting used to the situation,” She said, “I understand it will take some time. He’s been kind, just a little standoff-ish compared to before.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Well he needs to realize that he doesn’t get to take his time. You don’t. You’ve been dealing with it day in and day out for…how many weeks has it been now?”

“Nine, Sir.”

“And you still plan on keeping it?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“I will talk with him.”

Bongcha set her fork down, “Please do not chide him.”

He raised his brows with a grin, “I didn’t say ‘chide’, did I? We will talk.”

The maid was feeling a little squeamish and decided to change the note of this little morning chat. After a few moments of comfortable silence, she said, “I think I can see how you and Y/N used to be friends.”

The boss hummed a laugh into his mug, “Is that so?”

“Quite,” The young woman replied, “Your personalities are very similar.”

Jimin had to express his amusement once again, “Though I usually align with your sensibilities, I really don’t think you have your finger on the pulse this time, Bongcha. We are very different people. Perhaps in a past life we were alike, but certainly not now.”

She sipped her tea elegantly, “Well, I can only speak to what I’ve seen so far, which granted is very little, but I’d argue that my position here had given me a keen eye when it comes to these things.”

The leader let his mug rest on the table, “Okay, then elaborate.”

Bongcha started to poke the eggs on her plate to gather another forkful, “She is headstrong, but tactfully so. Kind at heart, but intolerant of disrespect. Her tongue can be sharp, but never loose.”

“You mean to say she is calculating.”

The blonde woman tilted her head. That word sounded too negative, “No, Sir. I’d rather go with…discerning.”

Before he could respond, Jimin heard another set of footsteps coming their way.

It was Hoseok, with disheveled hair, baggy sweatpants, and a wrinkled white t-shirt. He entered the room with a yawn, using his pistol to satisfy an itch on the back of his neck.

He gave the pair a nod, “Kids.”

He sat down perpendicular to Jimin, who was at the head of the table. The boss grimaced, “You reek of Macallan.”

The elder couldn’t have cared less, “At least I reek of a top-shelf brand.”

The boss became aggravated, “Jesus Christ, go fucking shower.”

He then looked at the maid, who was trying to seem disinterested in the conversation by looking down. Jimin grinned at her and then turned his head back to Hoseok.

“And after that, you can clean the floors.”

Bongcha pressed her lips together to conceal her amusement.

Hoseok let out a guffaw, “You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” Jimin taunted him while leaning back in his chair with arms crossed, “Have Kookie join you too. A little manual labor, to put some hair on your chest.”

After he ate and got some coffee in his system, the hungover member began his assignment. He picked up where the maid had left off, right by the staircase. An inconvenient spot for his pride, as all the others got to make fun of him as they came downstairs.

The only way one who didn’t get away with it was Jungkook. He wasn’t pleased when he learned that he had to help with the task, at Jimin’s insistence. As the youngest of the seven, Jungkook was a little more sensitive to performing duties he believed were below his station. Of course, his boss was aware of this, but he needed some humbling from time to time.

Soon it was the middle of the morning and the house was wide awake. These kinds of days were the best for the group. No jobs to do - just tucked away in a secluded part of Jeju Island with some relaxation time to be absorbed.

Jin and Namjoon sat in the living room, enjoying a screwdriver and Irish coffee respectively, while the others ate breakfast. Jin noticed the boss meandering around the first floor with his mug of black coffee. This wasn't atypical behavior, especially when he had much on his mind.

Keeping his volume discreet, he remarked to the other, "Apparently he told Y/N everything yesterday. Even asked her the question we all want to know the answer to."

Namjoon glanced back at their leader, observing the same thing, before turning back to face Jin, "Good for him."

"No, he looks distraught," Jin sighed at the younger man's nonchalance, "I thought he'd be the opposite by now. We have the girl, he offloaded all the information he needed to tell her. He should feel relief."

Namjoon made sure his voice was lowered and leaned in a bit, "Take it from me, since I worked for his parents. Though I rarely ever saw Jimin and never met Y/N during those days, his father mentioned how close they were. Once he even told me that Jimin favored being around her over all others. All others. Like, over girlfriends."

The elder cocked a brow as he swallowed a gulp of his screwdriver, "You think he was in love with her?"

"I don't know. Jimin has certainly never said that, but you remember how it was to be a teenage guy. We're all fucking idiots at that age, often so dumb that we can't even realize our own feelings." Namjoon explained.

The other chuckled, "Well that's a cute sentiment and all, but what does that have to do with him being stressed out right now?"

"I think he's just feeling paranoid and guilty that he had to do this to her. Obviously he cares about her a lot. I'd wager that it's pretty fucking hard to bring someone you care about into this kind of life. But he'll get over it, just like she will. Because they both have to. And that's all there is to it, hyung."

Jin laughed, "As if it's that simple."

Jimin began to feel your absence as the morning went on, but understood that you needed a decent rest. You were recuperating from the longest and most emotionally draining day of your life.

But you weren’t resting. You were lying in bed and staring at your the lock screen on your phone. The background photo was of the River Thames in London. You captured it from the street during one pretty sunset the previous summer. The London Bridge was standing proudly over the calm, reflective water.

You’d give anything to be able to go back. Back to a charming life in Europe, back to the career you adored.

The lock screen also showed endless notifications. They were calls and texts from your family. You hadn’t turned off your location, and more damningly, you hadn’t returned home last night like you said you would.

Their texts were panicked, asking if you were in trouble. You wondered if they had put the pieces together by now. Did they suspect you were with Jimin?

Your nerves escalated, forcing you out of bed. You just needed to move and focus on something else.

Subconsciously, you ended up standing at the windows. The sky was blanketed with clouds, and there was no wind to move them. From your viewpoint, you could look down on the back deck. There was zero activity and motion below, until you saw someone emerge.

You could decipher that this was Jimin by the light hair and distinguished gait. He had a black leather jacket on, and hands in his pockets to deal with the nippy early spring climate. At first, you expected to see someone follow him out the back door, but after a few moments, it became clear that he was alone.

He ambled around without intention, as if he was sleep-walking. This was a habit of his that you recognized, the aimless pacing of a man with a lot on his mind. Although this time, it wasn’t due to nervousness for an upcoming school exam.

You could gather that his life now came with a whole different kind of weight on his shoulders. He had men to look after, staff to keep safe. He was locked in an arms race that would cost him his life, if he lost.

You found yourself pitying him, despite all the heartache he had caused you in the past twenty-four hours.

Your phone began to buzz again. You looked down to see Uncle Yohan’s name and photo come up on the screen. You let it go unanswered.

You needed to remember where you and your father went on vacation, all those years ago. It was your ticket out of this mess. Jimin didn't need to spell it out for you - you could put two and two together. Whoever reached this hidden trove of weapons first would gain a crucial edge over the other, guaranteeing more security, if not the end to this cut-throat rivalry.

Then you saw another guy join Jimin outside. Black hair, a round face, muscular stature. Most likely Jungkook.

He must have called Jimin's name, making him turn around. In doing so, he noticed you standing at the window, gaze locking with yours immediately.

You felt frozen, unable to offer a wave or a smile.

Curious to see what his brother was staring at, Jungkook also turned his head. When he saw that it was you, the youngest member looked back at Jimin. He observed a perfectly calm, perhaps even pleasant expression on his face, as if just laying eyes on you brought him solace.

You uprooted from your spot and removed yourself from their sights, heading into the bathroom to wash up.

Jimin returned his sole focus to Jungkook. He noticed his sleeves and knees all soapy, which forced him to cross his arms over his chest and attempt to cover up a laugh with one hand up to his lips.

The younger didn't find it funny, "Might I ask when it became my responsibility to scrub the fucking floors?"

The boss smirked, "You may, although I'm not sure you want to have this conversation."

"Oh, I do." Jungkook challenged.

He had no clue what was coming his way, but if he was insisting, then so be it. Jimin dropped his smug attitude and agreed, opening his arms and gesturing to a set of chairs along the pool. Their frames were wooden with ivory cushioning on top.

Jungkook reclined back and put his arms behind his head, while the leader sat upright facing him, elbows propped on his knees.

Jimin was already bothered by how airy and indifferent he looked.

"Well go on," The younger sighed, "Let's have it out."

The older man laughed out his frustration, shaking his head down at the ground, "You are a damn fool sometimes, you know that?"

"Enlighten me, hyung."

"I had you clean the floors because it wouldn't kill you to learn to take some accountability around here."

"That's all fine and good, but you have a maid to 'take accountability' for house chores."

There it was.

Jimin had it. His tone dropped a level, hardening against his subordinate, "You're right. If only my maid hadn't been fucking impregnated recently."

Jungkook met his cold stare instantly. His unbothered expression soured as he exhaled in a dramatic groan, “Jesus Christ, hyung. That’s what this is about? Real clever of you to sneak that in there.”

“I didn’t sneak shit. You’re the one who inquired in the first place, and you’re the one who had to get your dick wet.”

The accused shot up to his feet, “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Jungkook,” Jimin became even more elevated, “You can’t run from this one.”

He began to walk away, forcing the boss to his feet. In a swift maneuver of dominance, Jimin used his arm to block Jungkook from passing. He shoved him backwards a few paces and got in his face.

His eyes were deadly serious, bearing into the younger’s so fiercely that it was like a form of mind control. Despite being shorter in stature and leaner, Jimin had an uncanny way of asserting such power. But then again, it was in his blood.

His voice was hushed, coming through a clenched jaw, “Did I say you could walk away? Hm? Sit the fuck down.”

Jungkook had a temper of his own that he had to keep in-check. Breathing slowly, he lowered himself back into the chair.

Jimin remained standing and put his hands behind his back, looking up at the sky for a moment, “I won’t tolerate this little act of yours any longer. You don’t get to knock up my leading maid, who I thought you had feelings for, and then pretend like it never happened. I can understand that it’s not what you wanted or planned for, but it’s time to step up.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighed, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you have no fucking idea what this feels like. Would you feel ready to be a dad?”

“It’s not about readiness, it’s about responsibility,” The boss snapped, “And for the record, I do know what it feels like. Do you think I felt prepared for this life when it was forced on me? Do you think I wanted this? Sometimes things just fall into your lap and you need to rise to the occasion, Jungkook.”

The younger buried his face into his hands, “Fucking Christ…”

Jimin sat back down and put a hand on his shoulder, “There are worse fates than being a father.”

“As if I’d know anything about that.”

It struck a chord. Jungkook never knew his father. There was no model to imitate, no rule book to follow. A silence was cast between the two men.

After a few minutes of sitting and listening to the gentle breeze, Jungkook muttered, “What the hell does any of this have to do with making me scrub the floor again?”

That made the boss laugh. He patted the back of his good friend heartily, “You can ask Bongcha about that. It seems like the two of you need to have a long discussion.”

“She asked you to make me do it?”

Jimin grinned, “You know she’d never do that.”

Jungkook knew he was right. No one who knew Bongcha would think she’d go behind someone’s back like that. She was far too gentle a soul.

Then the superior recalled finding her on the floor, overworking herself, and he frowned.

“But,” Jimin said, “I didn’t feel like I had a choice other than to speak with you about this. Someone had to take over for her. When I came downstairs this morning, she was trying to do it, breathing hard and looking exhausted. I wasn’t going to let her continue. That’s my responsibility.”

The black-haired man looked down, feeling shame for the first time in a long while. He rubbed his palms together as he pictured it - the woman carrying his child slaving away like that. Regardless of where their once blossoming relationship stood, that just didn’t sit well.

Jimin could see the gears turning behind his lowered eyes. He was starting to get it.

“I’ll talk to her.” Jungkook said.

He received another firm pat on the shoulder, “Good man. Let me know what comes of it. If I need to make other arrangements for Bongcha, I will.”

There was a mutual understanding of what he meant by that. This wasn’t the best environment for an expectant mother, let alone a baby. If she would feel safer in a different location, perhaps a new apartment somewhere, then Jimin would provide that.

They got up from their chairs and proceeded to head back inside.

Jungkook promised, “I’ll keep you informed, but don’t put all your energy towards this. We’ve got bigger problems.”

The boss glanced back up to your window, “Trust me, I’m aware. That’s why I’m calling a meeting, right now."

You were brushing your teeth until your gums bled, preoccupied with the same swimming thoughts. You were trying to clutch every single moment of that trip to America, hoping to come out the other side with a name.

Meanwhile, your phone rang again. It was an unidentified number, but you were too nervous to pick up. It very well could have been your family, trying to trick you into speaking to them. The vibration of the device caused it to move on the countertop near the sink. Unfortunately, it was already slightly over the edge of the surface. The buzzing moved the phone just enough to cause it to fall onto the floor.

It landed on its side, causing the case to pop right off.

You instantly turned the sink off, spit into it, and wiped your lips. Then you crouched down to pick up your phone and, more importantly, the photos you kept safe behind the case. They had fanned out on the floor, making your stomach drop. These photos were too precious.

You took a minute looked at them. One was of you and your mother. You were a small child, nuzzling into her chest with a sweet toothless smile. It made you remember her scent and what it felt like to be in her arms. You began to tear up, now understanding the context of her suicide.

The second was one of you and your father. You were older in this photo, a teenager. You were standing together, arms around each other in the middle of the giggles. Knowing your father, he probably had just said something to make you laugh. For some reason you remembered taking this one - you had set your phone against a tree trunk and put it on a timer. There was no one else around to take your picture because it was just the two of you there. On vacation, with a lake in the background…

It hit you. This was the place.

You sank down onto your rear with a thud, brows furrowed as you scanned the photo for any evidence of a name. There was nothing else in the background besides the lake, a long dock with yellow poles, and a hilly tree line.

Hastily, you flipped the photo over, and there was your answer, written in your own handwriting:

‘Trip to Lake Lauko’

Lake Lauko.

Lake Lauko.

That was it. You were positive. The timeline matched up with what Jimin told you, given your age in the photo. To your surprise, you were elated to have found the answer. This knowledge gave you leverage. It made you feel like you finally had some power in this situation.

You quickly changed into some medium-wash jeans and a faded green sweater. You needed to share this with them as soon as possible.

With damp hair and bare feet, you practically flung the door open and ran downstairs with the photo pinched between your index finger and thumb.

“Jimin!” You called as you descended on the staircase.

You made your way into the living room, expecting to find people there, but it was to no avail. In fact, the entire floor was quiet. There was no sign of life until Bongcha rounded a corner from the other room.

“Is there something you need, Miss?”

“Yes,” you panted a little, “I need to see Jimin. Where is he?”

“He has called a meeting. The men are gathered downstairs in the Game Room.”

“The ‘Game Room’? Like for video games and stuff?” You asked.

The maid giggled, “No, Miss. That’s what they call their conference room.”

You recalled Jimin referring to this business as a game, so you supposed that made sense.

“Am I allowed to go down?” You tilted your head a little.

“I’m not the judge of that,” Said the blonde woman, “But if it’s important-”

You pressed eagerly, “It is.”

Bongcha smiled cordially, "Then I will take you. Follow me."

You let her take the lead and went to a door you hadn't seen yet. She opened it, revealing a staircase that went to a below-ground level of the house. The lights were already on down there, revealing a lower floor that was every bit as nice as the others. The main portion of it looked like a smoke lounge, complete with an enormous bar. The sight of all of that top-shelf liquor was nauseating, after the hangover you had yesterday.

An open door to the left showed another room, which appeared to be a gym. Though the lights were off, you could make out the weights, treadmills, etcetera.

Bongcha headed past all of that and took a right, coming upon a closed door with a numeral pad mounted on the wall next to it. The pad had a red light, presumably meaning that the door was locked. You couldn't see which numbers she pressed, but you heard a small beep with every digit being entered.

Then the light on the pad turned green, followed by the sound of a lock unhatching from within.

Your guide opened the door and went in. You found Yoongi and Namjoon's eyes landing on you from their black leather chairs.

Jimin's voice could be heard, "Yes, Bongcha?"

Before she could answer him, you paced into the room behind her, making the other guys swivel their chairs in your direction. Jimin stood up from his seat at the head, fingers keeping contact with the long twelve-seater table. Your newly-showered and unfinished appearance brought about concern. Plus, your face expressed urgency.

He glanced at the small object in your hand, "Y/N, what's wrong?"

By the look of interest on her boss's face, Bongcha had no doubt that they would hear what you had to say. She discreetly exited the room behind you and shut the door. It automatically locked again.

Your eyes were darting across all of the faces now staring you down.

Jimin asked you again, "Y/N? What happened?"

Your attention snapped back to him. You slowly raised the hand that held the photo of you and your father, "I-I remembered the name. I know where the weapons are."

All of the guys shared looks of astoundment, gazes flitting back and forth between you and the boss.

His face told of both curiosity and relief, "Already? You're positive?"

You nodded and made your way across the room to him. You handed him the photo, "I know for a fact that this is the place we were talking about. And check the back."

Jimin cracked a grin. He flipped around the image and read aloud, "Lake Lauko, huh? Namjoon, pull that up."

Namjoon followed orders, typing away on the laptop in front of him, which seemed to be hooked up to the large television screen on the wall opposite the head.

In the meantime, Jimin asked you, "Where did you get this photo?"

"I keep pictures of my mother and father in my phone case." You said quietly, uncomfortable with all of the others hearing such an intimate detail of your grief.

He nodded with a hum.

"Here we go," Namjoon announced, directing everyone's attention to the screen, "Lake Lauko, located slightly east of the Puget Sound. State of Washington, United States."

There were images of the lake blown up for everyone to see. It was a beautiful place, just as you remembered. The group was observing keenly, including yourself.

"Looks remote, just as we thought." Yoongi remarked.

Jimin kept checking between your photo and the images on the screen ahead, looking for any signs of similarity. They needed to be able to pinpoint the exact spot.

"There," He eventually called out, pointing with his other hand, "Right there. Pull up that one on the bottom left, Joonie."

You noticed the same thing as soon as the image became enlarged. It was a picture of the lake from a higher angle, showing the same dock that was in your personal photo - the one with the yellow poles.

Jimin passed your belonging off to Hoseok, who then passed it to Jungkook. It began traveling around the room, making you uneasy. You didn't want these men having visibility into a private memory of yours like this. It felt like an intrusion, to allow them to see the younger version of yourself with your deceased father.

"It's the same dock." Jin nodded.

Jimin smirked, gesturing to the large screen once more, "That's it, gentlemen. That's exactly where we want to go. We leave in one week."

There was an uproar of clapping and celebratory noises. They were patting each other on the back and whatnot, grateful that they finally had the answer. The boss watched with gratification written on his face, enjoying the sight of his men getting to have this weight lifted off their shoulders.

He then smiled at you, "Thank you."

But the zeal you possessed when you first made the discovery had been drained from you. You weren't happy. You weren't eager. You weren't even relieved anymore.

All you felt was that you had just betrayed your own family. The thing that could have helped them win this long-drawn war, you had just given away to their enemies. You thought of your dear parents. Your father, smiling joyously next to you in that old photo. Would he be ashamed of the fact that you had just broken faith with Uncle Yohan, his brother?

You pursed your lips together, looking down at the floor. A nod was all you could offer Jimin in return, before making an excuse to leave the room, "I just wanted to let you know. I'll, um, go back upstairs now and get something to eat."

You turned and walked out of the meeting, and no one followed.

Luckily, finding your way back to the main floor was uncomplicated. You aimed to head into the kitchen, where you hoped to find something small to eat. What you told Jimin wasn't entirely a lie - you were starting to get hungry.

You walked in on a conversation between Eunji and Bongcha.

"No," The maid sounded like she was whining, which was strange, given the graceful composure she'd been showing you thus far, "I'm sorry, I just can't eat kimchi right now. Even the smell of it makes me nauseous."

Eunji saw you and cleared her throat, warning Bongcha to stop.

Both women looked at you and put on their smiles. The cook wiped her apron and said, "Can I get you something to eat, Miss?"

You sighed, "Anything. You don't need to make something fresh. I'll take leftovers."

The woman could tell you were in distress, so she offered you a smile, "Leftovers? I cook for seven men, Miss. There are never leftovers in this place."

That made you laugh a little, fostering more appreciation for her, "I guess it was a silly proposition."

The maid left the kitchen soon after and Eunji whipped up a rice bowl with veggies and beef for you. As you ate and the cook cleaned up, you asked her, "Is Bongcha sick?"

Eunji paused, but then shook her head, "No, Miss. She's expecting."

Your chewing ceased for a moment before you swallowed and remarked, "Oh, I didn't realize."

"She isn't showing quite yet," the cook dried a pan she had just hand-washed, "Don't say anything to her unless she tells you, Miss. I'm only informing you since you would have found out eventually."

"Why can't I congratulate her?" You asked, "Oh, does she intend to...you know...?"

Eunji quelled that concern, "No, Miss. In fact, she's quite excited about it. She's just having some trouble in the early stages."

“I see. Who is the father?” You asked. Perhaps you were prying too much, but you couldn’t say no to the opportunity to focus on a situation that wasn’t your own.

The cook closed off, “Oh, I-I’m afraid that isn’t for me to say, Miss.”

The way she seemed to earnestly search for another task to perform made you all the more intrigued. Why was that such a touchy subject?

Then it dawned on you. Bongcha lived and worked full-time here. With Jimin and his men. You remembered the day before, how kind Jimin was with her and how highly she spoke of him. He had also told you quite openly that he’d been to strip clubs before. Was it that far off-base to think that a mafia boss in his sexual prime would fornicate with female members of his own staff?

You didn’t ask any further questions.

It was dark outside now, and you were sitting out on the back deck alone. The temperature had dropped, leaving you huddled on one of the sofas in one of the warm sweat sets Bongcha got for you.

You weren't opposed to the cold. You had a lot on your mind and it helped you think.

There was a battle being fought in your head. One side knew the safest thing to do was to join Jimin, and the other wanted to believe your family was redeemable.

Your family had undeniably been dishonest with you, while he had told you the truth. It was clear who you could trust and who you couldn't. You should have been feeling good about your decision to stay here, and you were, until you gave them the information. Something about taking real action against your own flesh and blood made your skin crawl.

Was it because their manipulation of you was that deeply engrained? Was it because it directly contradicted the values your late parents had instilled in you, to be loyal to your family?

You had taken sides with a man whose family destroyed yours. They were responsible for all of your heartache, and yet here you were. Was it a cowardly act of self-preservation, or were you simply being smart?

Thoughts and memories attacked each other, fueling the opposing sides.

You let out a small groan and buried your face in your hands. It felt like you were going into overdrive, collapsing under this monster that was gnashing its teeth at you.

"Hey you."

You sighed into your hands, not exactly in the mood to speak with him, "Not now, please."

"That's alright." He said. You looked up to find Jimin standing over you, holding your photo in his hand and extending it out to you, "I just wanted to return this to you."

You were so upset before that you hadn't realized that you left it behind in the Game Room, "Oh...Thanks."

You looked down at the photo, the lighting from the surrounding outdoor bulbs and lamp posts allowing you to faintly see the image. It flooded your heart with so much love and pain that your chest felt physically heavy.

Jimin began to leave you, abiding by your request. Then you had a feeling that pissed you off - you wanted him to stay.

"Wait," You huffed, causing him to turn around, "I changed my mind."

You scooted over, making room for him. Jimin smiled gently and sat next to you. He was in a charcoal grey hoodie and comfy black cargo pants, his lounge-around attire, apparently. The pair of you overlooked the rest of the back deck for some time, taking in the stillness of it all.

That is, until he said, "I'm sorry for how it was in the Game Room earlier. I know it wasn't easy for you to give us that information, and for it to be treated with celebration rather than respect hurt you."

Staring dead ahead, you replied, "Actually, it was easy for me to tell you. I found that photo and bolted downstairs. After we spoke yesterday, I truly believed that it was the right thing. I believed that you had my best interest at heart and that you were being honest with me. It's like giving you that crucial information meant fully committing to joining you all here. And I thought I was ready to do that. Evidently, I was wrong."

Jimin's expression went from remorseful to perturbed, "And do you still believe that I have your best interest at heart, and that I've been honest with you?"

You looked into his serious dark eyes, "Yes. It's just...They're my family. And I betrayed them."

He gave you a sullen look, "Can I let you in on a secret?"

You nodded.

Jimin put his calloused hand on your cheek and used a sympathetic tone, "You didn't betray your family, Y/N. They betrayed you. Yohan, Aera, and Eoduun knew the circumstances and didn't tell you, not because they wanted to spare you, but because they were priming you to hand over the same information you just gave to me. And although they loved you and might not have known it, your parents betrayed you by setting you up for this life. So did mine. But if I've learned anything over these past eight years, it's that you're not a bad person for doing the best you can with the cards you were dealt."

You felt like crying, your voice almost in a whisper, "And these are the cards we were dealt."

He nodded slowly, "These are the cards we were dealt. And one more thing."

"What?"

The mafia man put his other hand up to your other cheek, "You choose who your family is. All of us here, we can be your family if you want us to be."

His words were genuine and warm, filling your heart with loud echoes of the past. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and held his hands there. A tear rolled down your cheek but was derailed by his palm. It felt like you were seeing him anew. There were hints of the old Jimin before. Now, he was fully there. Mafia or not, you could see him sitting before you.

You shook your head, still holding his wrists, "I can't believe you're here right now."

Jimin took the chance to tease you and lighten the mood. He chuckled, "You can't believe that I'm here at my own house?"

You broke into a giggle, but it died down quickly, "No, I can't believe that you're here at all. You just vanished from my life. I mourned that loss as if you had actually died. It's like you've come back to life."

He smirked, “I’ve come back blonde and tattooed.”

You laughed slightly. He was smiling into your eyes, and yours into his. You then wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His sweatshirt smelled faintly of oranges and whiskey. Jimin held you around your back, soaking in your embrace.

“I missed you.” You said.

He closed his eyes, “I missed you too.”

Your taste of happiness was interrupted by the back door opening and closing. More of the guys were coming outside.

Jimin pulled away from the embrace and sighed, “Here they come.”

Hoseok called out to both of you, “Hey, we’re having a bonfire. You guys want to join?”

“Be there in a few minutes!” The leader responded. You glanced in their direction, seeing the reflection of light bouncing off bottles of dark liquor. A few of them sounded drunk already, judging by their laughter and volume.

Jimin seemed like he wanted to be with them, but he remained at your side for the time being.

“You know,” He nudged you with his side softly, gesturing to the photo in your hand, “I had a similar moment of clarity when you handed me that picture. The past couple of days have been hard for me too. I’ve felt this overwhelming guilt, even though I know that we had to bring you here. But now that I’ve seen this…The girl that I knew in another life, I don’t regret it anymore. She was the one I thought of all these years, when things became unbearable or when I needed to be reminded of something good in my life.”

Your focus went from the photo to his eyes. For the first time you saw something desperate in them. He had lost his entire family in a pool of blood, his life was cut to shreds. But you were still there, so he had a reason to keep going. He had been clinging to the idea of you.

It was your turn to lighten the mood, “You thought of a high school version of me? Creep.”

Jimin threw his head back and laughed. Oh how you missed his authentic laughter. It was a few octaves deeper than it used to be, but its cadence was the almost the same. It made you laugh along with him.

“And just like the high school version of yourself, you are still impossible.” He said with a little wink and a partial grin.

It was a minuscule, subconscious action, but that little wink translated differently than it would have in the past. While you’d recovered a part of your friendship, there was still twelve years of distance between the two of you. You couldn’t simply pick up right where you left off, so the wink of his eye didn’t read as platonic. As if that didn’t feel strange enough, you were just as confused to find yourself enjoying it regardless.

In the dim yet proficient lighting, you began to notice how handsome he was. He was your old friend, yes, but now you were starting to view him as a man. A little rugged yet distinguished. His jawline was the biggest change from his younger self - now sharpened by the aging process. And God, did you finally see what all the fuss was about his lips back in the old days. They were sultry and pillowy, perhaps even inviting.

Likewise, Jimin was seeing you through a new lense. Your features still brought about a familiar comfort, but he saw them as utterly gorgeous. Your eyes were twinkling in a way that pulled him. Your body had developed more - desirable according to any man’s standards. You were every bit as adorable and kind as that girl in the photo, but now there was something else too. Something striking.

All of this mutual observation lasted but a millisecond. Then, both looking for an escape, you made your way over to the bonfire together. Whatever you had just felt, you shook it off.

It was a gorgeous fire pit area. The flames were nurtured in a round stone table, surrounded by plush ivory seating with rattan framing. These included a four loveseats covering all sides and four arm chairs. It was another twelve-seat arrangement.

You plopped down next to Jimin on one of the loveseats, to no one’s surprise, but this gave you the opportunity to get to know the other guys a bit more.

As they drank and cracked jokes, some of them quite dark, you laughed along. At first, it felt very much as though you were force by yourself to enjoy their company. But, as the hours passed, it got easier. You were able to perceive their individual personalities better, and they got to see a tiny bit more of you. Your guard was still mostly up, but it was at least a start. And you certainly didn’t join them in drinking.

It got late and you decided to go to bed, the first out of the group to do so. The exhaustion washed over you as soon as you walked back into the house, and took you under shortly after your head hit the pillow.

You had a long road ahead of you if you wanted to feel truly content here, but today was a start.

[archoneddzs15]

Sega Saturn - Tokimeki Memorial ~forever with you~ Special Pack

Title: Tokimeki Memorial ~forever with you~ Special Pack / ときめきメモリアル ～forever with you～

Developer/Publisher: Konami

Release date: 19 July 1996

Catalogue No.: T-9511G

Genre: Dating Simulation / Virtual Life

The Sega Saturn update to the PC Engine Super CD game Tokimeki Memorial by Konami. You are a young boy who is going to study for three years at the Kirameki High School in Japan. Your goal is to win the affection of one (and possibly more) of the twelve beautiful girls who also study with you, especially Shiori, with whom you were in love some years ago. This is a simulation game with a highly developed statistics system. You have to increase your statistics in different disciplines, depending on the girl you are interested in. You communicate with people via your telephone, and date girls by going with them to various places. You have to keep your promises, otherwise a girl will become angry and even tell bad things about you to other girls, which will spoil your reputation.

Tokimeki Memorial ~forever with you~ comes in a beautiful slip case that you can see above. Below you can see the actual CD case along with a scan of the CD tray inside backing.

As well as having a beautiful slipcase and a very colorful CD case, Tokimeki Memorial comes on a lovely full color printed CD as shown below. Mine is the Special Pack release seen here.

That's not all though because you also get this lovely art booklet showing room sketches, character designs, and all manner of other interesting Tokimeki Memorial trivia.

And finally, we have the glossy cards. I've kindly scanned the front and back sides of the cards for you.

Straight away you can see the size of the packing is massive. The set comes in an A4 binder with a picture of Fujisaki Shiori on it. Behind that is one of 4 interchangeable season background cards.  The default one as shown above is summer. Near the bottom of this page, you can see all of the season cards in the set photograph.

On the back of the front cover, you'll find a lovely picture of the Tokimeki Memorial cast, which I've scanned for you below.

Inside the A4 binder you'll find a plastic tray holding the game as well as a green memory cartridge.  The cartridge does look a little bare so Konami have included a set of two memory card stickers as shown below.

And here is the whole set in all its glory.

[darkmaga-returns]

The following information is based on a report originally published by A Midwestern Doctor. Key details have been streamlined and editorialized for clarity and impact. Read the original report here.

Did you know modern sleeping pills disrupt healthy sleep, making you 2 to 5 times MORE likely to DIE?

There was one prescription sleep aid that actually worked.

But it was so cheap and effective, the FDA launched a 10-year campaign to take it down.

This is the ivermectin of sleep.

Poor sleep doesn’t just make you tired. It wreaks havoc on virtually every process in the body.

Not getting adequate sleep destroys your memory, wrecks your metabolism (increasing your risk of cancer), makes you more likely to die from heart disease, and more.

And here’s the kicker: some sleeping pills don’t fix this—they make it worse. They sedate you instead of restoring real sleep, and that disruption is part of the danger.

It’s really serious.

[keoni-chan]

Having never experienced such persistent pink flashing, honestly I'm kind of annoyed. The above happened after spending considerable time in CAS making new townies. (they were fine once I loaded the lot)

I fiddled with it some more after this, but since it's not consistent, there's no real way to troubleshoot properly.

Thank you to all the kind souls who offered advice or sympathy on my last post! I'm positive I'll be able to beat it into submission get it to work properly, I just haven't had much time lately to fiddle with it.

One last thing to try would be increasing the allocated virtual memory, although that doesn't really make sense. It should have more than enough memory with 32 GB of RAM. On the other hand... badly optimized old game.

[stickthroughthephases]

"Un"-Happy Meal

C(S). Reptile/Syzoth x Reader | WC. 1588 | G. Fluff |

Syzoth had still been adjusting to life in Earthrealm and amongst humans who were not the other Earthrealm defenders. Fortunately enough you lived away from big cities and towns, opting to reside in the quiet countryside of your village. Though he was always on alert whenever the two of you went into town for food or to explore, his fascination with the bright lights and greasy smell of fast food wafting throughout was increasing each time he crossed passed with the fast food joints in town. 

The town centre was located about an hour and a half from the village you lived in and a half hour more from the secluded area out of the village where you and Syzoth lived now. You usually saved the long trek for Saturday mornings every couple of weeks, making the visit even more exciting. 

This particular trip into town was different than most. Your longtime friend had asked you to babysit her five-year-old daughter Aria, who had become the unlikeliest of friends with your partner, in turn, was happy to entertain the little one. Having babysat her since she was born, and the other countless times since you and Syzoth became a couple, what was the worst that could happen? 

The toddler was dropped off early in the morning as you and Syzoth prepared to head into town. After securing any additional supplies to keep the toddler entertained and fed, the three of you were now ready to make the trek into town. As roads were still scarce in your village, and most of the 21st-century advancements pertained to the town centre, you had set up a cozy ensemble for Syzoth and Aria, in the back of your horse-driven carriage. Sure it was a little old-fashioned but it was a reliable form of transportation.

Arriving at the town centre, Syzoth and Aria waved to all the street vendors and passersby, all of whom waved back with the same enthusiasm. Sharing their own little jokes and giggling at funny sights, you couldn’t help the smile grace your lips hearing the two in their own world, enjoying each other’s company. 

The day had gone virtually stress-free, Aria and Syzoth entertained each other as you ran your errands, Syzoth carried any and all of your bags of course despite your protests and somehow also managed to carry Aria on his shoulders.  

As far as little kids go, Aria was unfazed by other temptations of candy and other toys displayed during your errand run, but there was always one indulgent activity she wanted to do—visit McDonalds.

Your friend often told you how she could bargain her way out of other requests if she promised to take Aria to McDonald's at the end of their trip into town and it worked like a charm for you as well, additionally, Syzoth had always looked doe-eyed whenever walking passed the elaborate establishment that you figured it was time he try it too.

The step inside the McDonald's transported Syzoth into an out-of-body experience. His nose detected a variety of smells unfamiliar to his previous knowledge and his eyes, a vast hue of colours displayed inside. You found an empty booth near the Play Place so Aria could enjoy playing as you all waited for some food. Since Syzoth could not enjoy human food, he settled for exploring the huge menu and watching Aria. 

The play area was an oasis for the little one who quickly made friends with other kids and immersed herself in the made-up games.

The place was fairly packed so you opted to go back to your table instead of just standing near the order station whilst Syzoth was whisked away by Aria and her newly made friends to act as the bad guy for one of their games.

All was well until to “catch” the children, he had to follow them up the intricate slide area, it didn’t occur to him, until too late, that the space was made for kids and it was fairly high up. He made it up to the highest tunnel slide until the enclosed space shot the memory of Shang Tsung’s lab across his mind. Frozen, the voices of Aria and other children fell to deaf ears as panic settled. Breathing became hard and the tight space seemly began to further compress leaving Syzoth with no room to move. 

Confused, Aria ran over to you distressed.

“Syzoth won’t come down, we called his name and everything but he won’t respond!” she shrieked, worry etched in her brow and voice.

“Aria, it’s ok don’t worry, I’ll go get him down ok?.” Your attempt at consoling Aria works a smidge as she nods along to your words, still clearly not convinced.

You quicken your steps and attempt to navigate through the maze of ladders, slides and tunnels, calling out to Syzoth to locate him.

“He’s in the purple tunnel!” yells out one of the children, who are all gathered at the end of the slide connected to the tunnel in which Syzoth is stuck, trying their own to coax him down the slide.

You locate the quickest ladder and begin your climb, almost slipping due to the lack of grip on your socks but catch yourself before tumbling down. Bending down, you get on your knees to climb into the tunnel, moving slowly until you reach a frozen Syzoth.

His eyes closed shut, sweat beading down the side of his face which was flushed red, arms outstretched with an iron grip on the raised bars inside the tunnel so tight his hands turned white.

“..Syzoth…love…can you hear my voice?” you begin, slowly crawling towards him.

There is a pause, and the only sound is from the children down below, muttering amongst themselves.

“Syzoth,” you try again. “Sweetie is everything ok?”. You stop moving until you’re a mere few inches apart, unsure if the space is enough to avoid making him feel suffocated.

Before you can even register it, your hand moves by its own accord to cup the side of his face, slightly shaking as if it was unsure of it’s intentions, and lightly swipe your thumb across his cheek. You wait for Syzoth’s reaction and when you sense a welcome to your touch, you press your hand further into his cheek and feel as he leans into your palm.

You try once more.

“Syzoth, my love, can you open your eyes? Its just me, I can help you,” you assert but quickly follow it up with, “-if you need it.”

Long lashes lift gently from his cheek until his downcasted eyes turn slightly to face you, panic and anxiety bouncing behind his irises begin to dwindle down from the assurance of your touch and your face that reminds him he is no longer stuck in his past.

The breath he didn’t realize he was holding comes out in a small huff,  you demonstrate the breathing techniques you both have grown used to utilizing whenever the familiar panic rises up from the depth of Syzoth’s conscience, stabilizing him into the present.

“I’m sor–”

“Ssshhhh,” you reply before he can even finish his apology. 

You move closer to press your forehead against his, a silent gesture, one you know he would understand as a reminder that you hated when he apologized for panic attacks such as this and chose to spend a few more moments in your intimacy, forgetting the crowd that had gathered below.

“IS.HE.OK??” shouts the gathering of children, who escaped your mind, equally worried about their newly made friend who was stuck in the tube.

You pull back and instruct Syzoth to sit at the entrance of the slide.

“Do you need a few more minutes?”

“No need, I feel much better,” he gleams readying himself for the much too small slide.

You wrap your legs around his waist and use the bars on either side to push the two of you down the slide.

After a short twist and turn, the two of your arrive at the bottom of the slide with a loud “BOO”.

Scared faces suddenly rejoice to see the two of you, quickly hounding Syzoth to ask if he is ok, to which he assures that he just got a little bit scared. 

As the kids busied themselves of sharing their own stories of bravery, a choral of parents beckoned their children, some to eat and others that their playtime was now over. You, Aria and Syzoth waved goodbye to the kids and went to enjoy to your own meal.

Aria attached herself onto Syzoth and refused to let go which prompted him to carry her back to table as you collected their food. Her attachment was short-lived at the enticement of her happy meal toy, busying herself in the colouring book and consuming her apple slices. 

Similarly your hand found itself on top of Syzoths for the entirety of meal as both a reassurance for him and yourself. 

The day was now at its end, a sleepy Aria tuckered from exploring and playing so you laid her to rest in the little cocoon in your buggy and Syzoth opted to sit beside you as you started your trek back to the village. 

The sun was starting to set and the air felt a little chillier than before, you feel Syzoth hand snake around your waist and his head finding solace on your shoulder. 

“Maybe next time we eat our meal at an outdoor playground without any tunnels,” whispers Syzoth, snuggling closer to you.

*Author's Note*

I've seen enough Syzoth smut for life and I think we need more fluff and soft stories for the MK characters, their life is already so hard, thus I just had to write this for Syzoth when my best friend sent me an idea several months ago about babysitting and getting stuck in the McDonalds Play Place.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

The potion is thick, almost sticky as it slides down my throat. It’s supposed to be the last dose I will ever take, according to Healer Dodd. He told my father that my liver will start to fail if he keeps administering these potions to me. He says that the incident occurred so long ago, there is virtually no chance of a relapse.

Whatever that means.

He advises my father to stick with the liver replenishing potions. Reminds him not to let me drink alcohol.

He stares down at me as I sit, stone like, against the wall, my feet pulled up onto the lumpy mattress. My arms wrap around my knees and I let my heavy lidded eyes follow him as he watches my pupils change size as they contract.

I’ve been in and out of this place for years. It feels like every other visit, except that the doses have increased to twice a day and this time, Dodd looks at me with something like pity.

It drips from his eyes as he examines me, as he asks me questions about my life. Always the same round of questioning.

Where did I got to school? Was there anyone particularly close to me during those years? Tell me about the war, were there any particularly traumatic events that I can recall?

Nothing, I tell him. Nobody.

Sometimes, I think about telling him about Ginny Weasley and the strange memories of her smiling at me, laughing and shaking her head.

Instead, I tell him that at school, I was alone. Memories of Zacharias Smith’s big dumb eyes or the smell of Lavender and damp grass stay tucked away, hidden from the world.

Dodd asked me if I remembered why I came in this time, why my father insisted that I seek professional care.

I told Dodd the truth, for once.

I’m a god and this shell cannot always contain all of my power.

“You are a man, Draco. A wizard, just like the other patients in this facility.”

No, I told him. I’m building an army of followers. I’m destined to take over the world.

Dodd frowned at me then told my father that he recommended that I get off the potion and stay in this prison until I can be mended properly.

My father sneered at him and spat onto the floor. “Don’t forget who you work for, Dodd.”

Me, Dodd works for me, just like the rest of the soldiers. My father rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head. “I will not keep him here. He has duties to get back to.”

Work at the ministry, marrying Astoria. He reminds me and Dodd of these things, the importance of my family name and the power we hold in the world.

My chapped lips press together as the urge to close my eyes takes over, my muscles liquify and threaten to pull me into the mattress as my mind begins to detach itself from my body.

I’m fighting it, this time, trying hard to hold onto my sanity before it slips away. I pull my gaze away from Dodd and instead look out the window. It’s tiny and covered in bars. There’s streaks of sunlight still burning against the edges of the sky. It’s not like the sunsets in Wiltshire. All orange and pink. These are different, somehow, more beautiful with all the brown and gold.

I keep my eyes trained on the window and can feel my mind drifting. Only, it doesn’t drift off into the stars above. Not yet.

Instead, it drifts into a little known space that I’ve been keeping all to myself, in the back of my skull. Just tucked in there, hidden away from my fathers prying eyes, from Dodd and his mind work.

Eyes like the sunset outside, staring at me. Hermione Granger haunts my life. It’s a single moment of a younger version of ourselves staring at me, as a soft smile curves her lips upwards.

I don’t know why I have this secret all to myself.

What I do know, is that it keeps me from slipping into that deep pit of despair that threatens to suck me in every fucking day. I think it reminds me of a time when I had some semblance of choices to make. When I still had some free will.

Her eyes are all I have, like a collection of marbles a child creates when he feels he has no control in the world around him.

The healer leaves and I can hear the door click, the scoff of his shoes against the floor. And then I’m floating. My mind is drifting, weaving through the universe and the never ending loop of energy that we misconstrue as time.

Because, time doesn’t actually exist. It’s just a construct humans have created to explain away growing old, or the the ebb and flow of pain and joy.

Except for me.

I’m no longer mortal. Because I don’t experience those ebbs and flows.

There is no chronological order anymore. It doesn’t exist here, so don’t look for it. It’s all just energy being recycled, over and over.

I’m just this thing that floats through the universe, watching as if in slow motion, the world passing by. And right now, I’m just biding my time while I wait to be released back into the wild.