#It’s important to operate not from “this is who I am” but from “this is what I’ve been nurtured to be but I can change that”

[jinbedreams]

It's been so fascinating to see how strongly people react to Toshiro in Dungeon Meshi. When I first read that scene I didn't feel hurt by Toshiro's rejection of Laois at all, I was more shocked at Laios raising a hand to him in anger because Laios had always felt like a man free from such anger and aggression. Although it was very powerful to see that Laios was capable of feeling such a way. I felt the scene was very emotionally charged and an important moment for both characters.

So when I started hearing about how hurt other people were at seeing Toshiro lash out in frustration towards Laios, and seeing people express discomfort towards Toshiro I was surprised but not confused. Honestly I was more surprised at myself for not having a similar reaction because I have also been subject to being led on in "friendships" that the other person secretly despised (or at least did NOT feel the same). It can be very hurtful to discover that someone has built a resentment towards you but never made any attempt to clear the air with you until a point of crisis.

I am autistic and I struggle a lot with relationships but in this instance I didn't see myself in Laios' shoes (although I have been there) instead I found myself relating to Toshiro. A man trapped by social expectations, rigid rules of engagement hammered into him from a young age, only to discover that there is someone who does not follow these rules at all. Even more bizarrely they seem completely free from any of the consequences that would befall Toshiro if he ever deviated from his carefully cultivated mask.

I can say from experience it is confronting to try and unpack your own high masking trauma while also feeling compelled to support the low masking autistic person in your life. Even if the other person means no ill will and has not truly done anything wrong, having them unknowingly walk all over you can be enough to push you to a breaking point. There is an intense frustration that comes with seeing someone else get away with not following the social rules you have beaten yourself painfully into shape to fit.

Yes Toshiro could have chosen any moment to correct Laios on his name, or clarify his discomfort or his personal boundaries, but that is operating under the assumption that Toshiro feels safe enough to do so. He is a stranger in a strange land, and often in that position it is a safer choice to subject yourself to a level of discomfort simply to keep the general peace. Where my fellow high maskers at? We make biting our tongue a fucking art.

#Could Toshiro have approached the topic in a more gentle manner? Yes #But in that vein Laios could have checked in with Toshiro and made sure he got his name right or that he also felt the same way etc #thats the beauty of this story #no one is right or wrong theyre just people #and despite their differences they do have a level of respect for one another #god I love #Dungeon Meshi #shuro #toshiro dungeon meshi #laios dungeon meshi #laios touden #DONT even get me started on Kabru hes got me in even more of a chokehold than these two

[verdantcrimson]

Kanna Natsu Idol Story - 1

Written by: Akira

Season: Spring

TL: verdantcrimson

(Unproofread)

[Two years since ES was established. In a corridor of an ES building leading to the Starpro office]

Kanna: Thank you very much for helping me, Miss Anzu.

Kanna: As you can see, I am a child, so escaping from a situation where I am surrounded by a crowd of people is difficult.

Kanna: Though, if I had used my head, I think I might have been able to escape, call for help, and have my pursuers apprehended.

Kanna: But using my brain on those people is a total hassle.

Kanna: A complete, and total, hassle.

Kanna: … Yes? No, I’m not lost. 

Kanna: So you’re the type of person that judges people based on their appearance, right.

Kanna: No, I’m not criticizing you. Just categorizing.

Kanna: I find talking to other people to be a hassle.

Kanna: Ideally, I would like to be able to have a conversation by categorizing people as much as I can, and then only using a fixed set of phrases that correspond to that category.

Kanna: I want to have conversations using only a set of standardized phrases, like: “For sure”, “Maybe”, “That’s nice”, and the like.

Kanna: A computer could do that. It could handle things with just some numbers and a program.

Kanna: Why can’t the same method of operation work for humans?

Kanna: Ah, It’s okay. I wasn’t actually looking for an answer. It was just a question I asked myself, and presented.

Kanna: Please don’t worry. I will think for myself and find the answers to all of my questions.

Kanna: Yes. I have no expectations of you, or anyone else.

Kanna: Now, if you would excuse me. And really, thank you very much for helping me out just now.

Kanna: … Hm. Yes, what is it?

Kanna: Quite the annoyance you—

Kanna: Aren’t. Yes, yes, how can I help you?

Kanna: Yes. No, I’m affiliated with ES.

Kanna: I’m Kanna Natsu, and I’ve recently begun working as an idol here.

Kanna: Yes. People say that I’m like a stray cat that can’t quite get used to humans. It means I am ‘Natsu Kanna-ected’ with and don’t miss other people. Quite interesting, right?

Kanna: Would it be better if I had laughed? But that would be a hassle.

Kanna: I think my life would be much easier if I at least learned to smile politely, but that really is such a hassle.

Kanna: Yes. Ah, you know about me? I thought so too.

Kanna: I have long since concluded that I am like an exotic creature that has a tendency to make the headlines of newspapers and magazines.

Kanna: The people pursuing me earlier were magazine reporters that have been following me around recently.

Kanna: The entertainment industry is a world where you could throw a stone into the crowd and hit a genius, quite literally, so I didn’t see the need to bring it up.

Kanna: When humans see something behaving oddly, it’s surprising and interesting to them, it seems.

Kanna: That sort of sensibility, I envy it.

Kanna: Ah, I wasn’t being sarcastic. I honestly envy it. It’s quite tedious to have to add a note clarifying my intent at the end of each and every sentence.

Kanna: Hm. Eh? You’re asking me if I’m a celebrity…?

Kanna: So you only knew who I was because of me being a new idol, Miss Anzu? You remember seeing my name and face on the roster?

Kanna: I get it. Yes, you are that kind of person. I understand now.

Kanna: So. It seems I have overestimated my importance.

Kanna: That’s right. There are people who don’t know who I am. Heh.

Kanna: Ah, that was my first laugh in fifteen days. Tomorrow, my facial muscles are going to be sore.

Kanna: Thank you very much. I was able to have a rare experience.

Kanna: …Hm? Yes, anything else?

Kanna: I am an ES affiliated idol, so you should know that it isn’t out of the ordinary for me to be walking around here.

Kanna: Do you not understand this? It would be a hassle if you didn’t.

Kanna: Hm. So you thought that there might still be reporters remaining around the area? You thought to call for security, just in case?

Kanna: ……

Kanna: “A kind and gentle person”, “A respectable member of society”, “A very noble, goddess-like person”.

Kanna: Of these three, which do you prefer?

Kanna: I would like to present you with an evaluation. Because I appreciate your concern, and your words are commendable.

Kanna: However. I am inexperienced at communicating with people, so I don’t know which words would be most touching.

Kanna: That is why, I would like you to pick what words I should give you.

Kanna: That is all. ...Is that wrong of me to do?

#Kanna Natsu

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely think that any change in behavior starts w telling yourself that your worst days, worst performances, just worst moments in general aren’t who you “truly are.” It’s all about unlearning any thought process that essentially chalks up traits you aren’t proud of to “this is who I really am” “in reality I’m lazy” “in reality I’m just a bad person” bc not only is that never true, but it impedes your efforts to try to do better as well. Anything we struggle with has roots in things like childhood trauma, thoughts you’ve been fed before, your upbringing…. but never that you’re inherently a bad person. What I’m learning this year is that a lot of us doing better & being better & improving really comes down to self-talk—to disavowing the very notion that deep down we’re simply bad.

#Bc how do you work on “this is who I am” #It’s like a self fulfilling prophecy #If you keep telling yourself this is just who you are then every time you improve you’ll feel cognitive dissonance and self-sabotage #It’s important to operate not from “this is who I am” but from “this is what I’ve been nurtured to be but I can change that”

[fuckdamn]

everytime i’m faced with wild overt misogyny that’s just platformed like it’s nothing i remind myself that people don’t actually have to feel this way about women. men are fully capable of treating women like human beings and viewing them as such. “but socialization but male fantasies but patriatchy speaks through us even when we don’t recognize it” sure but actually regardless there exist men who are fundamentally not raging misogynists and they generally seem happier and better adjusted. misogyny to me isn’t disappointing because “oh i can’t believe Men, as an essentialized category of person, are like this” it’s disappointing because people make the choice to be like this. “it’s my biological imperative as a man to dominate you” okay well it’s my biological imperative as a freaky bitch to dominate you so what now. what biological imperative is making you comment “onlyfans detected opinion rejected” on every picture of any attractive woman. i think i will always be understood by most people as a woman and i’m learning to accept that and trying to like it but misogyny makes me feel very trapped of course. but misogyny is a choice. which means some people make the choice to be misogynistic which is profoundly frustrating. but many other people choose not to be actively misogynistic and i believe anyone could choose not to be actively misogynistic if they wanted. so it’s a whole thing

#lotte.txt #womanhood is a fun thing to participate in with women who do not hate women. otherwise it’s very stifling and starts to not be worth it 4 me #for other girls — cis and trans btw — i think relishing in womanhood still feels worth it even when it’s very difficult and i admire that #but apart from my fashion sense and bloodlust i feel very detached from womanhood as like this primal animate Essence #but i don’t really want to be a man either. i like being a Weird Girl i like being a Hot Weird Girl #i’m more of a Hot Weird Girl than a Hot Weird Boy and i’ve discovered that through trial and error #and calling myself nonbinary/fluid accurately describes my experience in a lot of ways. but i also sometimes feel like the label doesn’t.. #serve me? if that makes sense #like i got really into kibbe in 2020 and it was like oh shit i’m a soft dramatic. how cool that there’s something that describes my body #but after a while i got exhausted with kibbe because yeah. by the logic of the system of course i’m a soft dramatic #and i operate with that knowledge in the back of my mind. but also so what. i am aware of the shape of my body now #and now i feel the label has very little left to offer me #like if you’re asking? sure i’m a kibbe soft dramatic. but i don’t hold kibbe’s system as law or view it as crucially important #that is very much how i feel rn about calling myself nonbinary #like if you want me to think about it? yeah i don’t strictly conform to the gender binary #but i don’t believe gender itself is useful for my growth - i don’t hold the institution of the gender binary sacred - why bother #why draw attention to where i exist within the system when i’m tired of defining myself in terms of the system at all. yk #aUghj. anyway

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #laios touden #shuro #toshiro nakamoto #the winged lion #autistic #autism #clay writes #i GUESS #this was so spur of the moment. im so busy right now i dont have time to be analysing laios touden #i wuont angry autistic rep..

[nellasbookplanet]

'Enjoy it despite its flaws' is one thing, but Mass Effect somehow invented its own category: 'simultaneously one of the most flawed and the most well-crafted sci-fi stories I've ever experienced'. These games are incredible. They’re the worst. All the women are sexualized. All the women have deeply flawed and complex personalities without being either demonized or romanticized. The first available f/f ship seems to be written along the guidelines of 'what would a straight man find hot'. As the games go on, they effortlessly include multiple same sex romance options given just as much care and development as the the opposite sex ones. You can play as a xenophobic murderhobo asshole. You can play as someone genuinely caring but also harsh, who inspires growth and co-operation wherever you go but who makes hard choices when you have to. You can kill civilians and punch reporters and commit genocide. You can stop a generational war and mediate peace and save several species from extinction. The robots are stereotypically evil cannon fodder. The robots are deeply complex with a tragic history. Your team mates are assholes with xenophobic opinions or justifications for police brutality and genocide, or they just want excuses to Do Murder. You team mates are deeply flawed and can be urged to grow alongside you. The most important aliens are all humanoids. There are plant aliens and jellyfish aliens and insect aliens and elephant aliens and aliens who can’t share an atmosphere with us. You have to drive around countless identically boring planets with little to show for it. You get to discover hidden secrets and civilisations millions of years old and live through some of the most emotionally harrowing scenes in storytelling history. I am going absolutely insane about it.

#mass effect #up next let me talk about how andromedas biggest flaw (not perceived flaw but ACTUAL flaw) is how it lacks these highs and lows #sure it doesn’t fall into the same problematic tropes as the trilogy sometimes does #but in its fear to take risks it also fails to hit the highs of when the risks pays off #nella talks

[therapycreature]

every time i make a new guy in sw mmo i'm obsessed this is the best guy my absolute favorite no one else in my roster compares they're flawed but that's what makes them unique without fail like every time

#swarsmmo #maybe it's because i got a different agent ending this time #and i'm doing the evil fuck all life route but i'm DONE with these motherfuckers in ''sith intelligence'' #i did the agent story so long ago i can't remember if people refer to you differently based on what ending you get... #but the i think you're important? who even is this man?? from the beginning of the post main story was very cool #did everyone refer to you as commander in the destroy [thing] ending? or agent? #don't remember #it'd be funny for once if theron was the 'absolutely not am i working with this guy what are you thinking' though #oh well. i can imagine #also concealment operative is very fun i'm surprised

[solarpunkwarlock]

Ways to Live in Direct Opposition to Capitalism

I am by no means an expert in any of these things I’m gonna talk about, so keep that in mind! I am just making a compilation of things I know of that we can do to lessen the stranglehold the capitalist lifestyle has on us while enriching our lives, our surroundings, and the lives of others. Please add anything I miss or correct anything I may be getting wrong! Anyway here goes!

Use what you have, fix what’s you can, make what you can, accept from others, thrift what you can, and finally purchase as a last resort.

This is advice I have seen float around here a couple of times that can apply to a lot of things including clothing, furniture, food, and more besides. It’s meant to be done roughly in that order as it applies to what you’re wanting/needing/doing. It’s about preventing waste, promoting self-capability, having a heightened reliance on your community, and consciously rejecting the ingrained habit many of us have to just purchase things or services.

Here’s where you can read about growing an indoor garden!

Here’s where you can read about sewing things yourself!

Here’s an online site for giving and receiving items for free!

Here is where you can find a local Mutual Aid to get things from, learn skills from, give do, volunteer for, etc. (in the U.S.)

Be politically active! (from a U.S. perspective)

Vote for every election. Know your representatives and those who will be competing in the next election. Vote without ignorance and without falling for unfounded claims. While operating within the system that actively oppresses us will not bring about the future we want, it can serve as damage control (preventing worse candidates from taking office) and it can potentially create a national atmosphere more open to change.

Here’s a good article about getting more involved in the U.S. political process.

Here’s a site that will show you how to register to vote, when and where elections are held, and more!

Here’s good advice on finding protests in your city!

Here’s some readings on unionizing! It’s your legal right to unionize!

Here’s a more user friendly site for learning about unions!

Be active within your community!

Developing strong, motivated, capable, knowledgeable, and inclusive communities is the ultimate way to combat the relentless and bleak present and future. When you’ve worked on the things above and have gotten good at it (or even if you haven’t gotten good at it yet), start spreading what you know and what you can do with others!

Give your neighbors, coworkers, and friends some of the vegetables you’ve grown.

Invite your community members to volunteer events.

Talk to folks about how to vote, when you’re doing it, etc.

Take part in Mutual Aids to teach what you’ve learned or whatever you may be an expert in! Invite neighbors, friends, and coworkers when you take part in the Mutual Aid!

Accept your community. Take them for who and what they are. Discrimination is the enemy of cooperation. You have much more in common with everyone in your community than a single billionaire or corporation. We’re all passengers on this spaceship earth.

Do it one step at a time!

Obviously we can’t do all of these things at once. Do what you can when you can, and you’ll start to notice real change in your life!

Our online communities where we talk about our visions and hopes are fantastic, but they have little impact if we don’t actually get up and do the real work that change requires.

Want to be better, and keep hope for the future!

Harbor and nourish that desire to be a better person and to be the change you want to see in the world. You need to be hungry for a better future if you plan to make it through the rough times when everything feels pointless and without hope. Reach out to others when you’re down, and be someone others can lean on when their lives get hard.

That’s it! Please interact with this, spread it to others, and add your own thoughts and ideas! It’s important that we do the real work to get the change we crave!

#solarpunk #punk #hopepunk #anti capitalism #anti consumerism #anti consumption #tumblr #/r/196 #r/196 #196 #community #socialism #communism #lgbtq community #gay pride #blacklivesmatter #do the work #positive vibe #positivity #learning #tips #tips and tricks #activism #change #teamwork #revolution #Make a comment! Start a discussion! Add your thoughts!

[like-a-diamondinthesky]

five minutes | l.m.h

pairing... bf!minho x gn!reader tags... established relationship, disgustingly fluffy, excessive references to soondoongdori, minho is a cat personified, soft mimo!

operation put your boyfriend to sleep in five minutes is a go.

wc... 1.4k words a/n... ah, yet another domestic fluff fic featuring softy minho. a star specialty! sorry guys this is kinda my fav thing to write ever r u sick of me 😁 anywayz this was inspired by this soft thought and this tiktok like i saw it and immediately thought : lee minho.

ALSO ALSO! HUGE THANK YOU FOR 1K FOLLOWERS! i never would've thought i'd reach this milestone and words couldnt express how incredibly grateful i am for each and every one of you who read and enjoy my works <3 i love you guys thank you so much!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Minho turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open, greeting Soonie who stood by the entrance with a tilted head. Shutting the door, he hung his bag on the coat rack and bent down to pet his beloved cat’s chin.

“Hi, baby,” the cat nuzzled his head into Minho’s palm and circled around his arm, “where are your brothers, hm?”

Meow… Soonie walked off to the living room as if to answer Minho’s question. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he followed his cat toward the faint nose of your favorite series playing on the TV.

When he entered the room, Minho saw your figure strewn lazily across the couch. Dori was cuddled up against your chest and Soonie hopped up to join Doongie by your feet. His heart warmed at the sight of his loves all huddled together.

“Honey, I’m home,” Minho grabbed your attention with his gentle, sing-song tone, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

You switched your attention from the screen in front of you to the man standing in the doorway, returning his smile and giving a small wave. “Hi, my love. How was your day?”

Minho padded over to you, scooped Dori up against his chest, and settled himself where the cat had previously taken solace in your arms.

“It was alright,” he said, scooching backward to press his back firm against your front. “Tiring, as usual, but it's fine.”

Though he couldn't see it, you nodded in acknowledgment and pressed a soft kiss to his head. You brought one hand up behind his ear to scratch at his scalp, something you had found he enjoyed.

“Do you want to go to bed already? It is pretty late.” From its place above the TV, the clock read 10:37 PM. “Maybe we should move our little cuddle session to the bedroom.”

Minho sighed and shook his head. “But, I'm already so comfy here. Plus, you wouldn't dare disturb the cats, would you?”

“Please, remember the last time we slept on the couch the whole night? I don’t think we want that happening again.”

“Y/n,” Minho called your name, dragging out the last syllable. “My back hurts so much! Remind me why we stayed on the couch again.”

“I told you we should have moved to the bed! But you wouldn’t listen to me,” you snickered at your boyfriend from the kitchen while you continued to whisk a couple of eggs for your breakfast.

You set the bowl down on the counter and walked over to Minho who was still lying on the couch. When you came into his sight, he made a show of stretching his arms and legs, akin to a cat, accompanied by a few exaggerated groans.

“I don’t think I can get up at all today. I should just call in sick,” Minho draped an arm over his face, letting the other fall limp over the edge of the cushion.

“Don’t you have an important meeting today? I doubt your boss would appreciate you missing that on account of an 'ouchy' back.”

“Well, maybe if you gave me more cuddles, I’d feel a bit better.” Minho peeked at you from under his arm, proposing this cute, yet slightly impractical, solution. “Unless you want me to miss work and stay at home with you today.”

“Alright, you big baby.” Rolling your eyes, you moved to straddle Minho’s lap, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. Now chest to chest, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting the other one snake up his neck to play with the hairs at his nape.

The time you spent wrapped in each other’s warmth turned from seconds to minutes, the comfortable silence lulling you back to sleep. Minutes turned to hours, leaving Minho’s meeting unattended and the scrambled eggs forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Ugh, at least give me five more minutes,” Minho offered as he continued to stroke Dori’s back, drawing a vibrating purr from the cat. “I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“Oh, come on, you have to brush your teeth anyways. Now get your lazy bum off the couch so we can cuddle on the bed.” You grabbed the throw pillow from behind your back and swung it at Minho’s side, accidentally startling Dori in the process. The cat jumped out of the man’s arms, causing him to throw a frown over his shoulder.

“Now look what you did! You’re scaring our babies.” Finally, Minho stood up, offering you his hand to pull you up as well. You met his hand with your own and anchored yourself up, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Oops.” You shrugged and skipped off to the bedroom, leaving your boyfriend with your three cats in the living room.

“Unbelievable.” Minho took a few steps towards the bathroom, paused, and turned back to look at his cats. “Well, are you coming with me or not?”

While your boyfriend finished his night routine, you lay on your shared bed and grinned to yourself. Operation Put Your Boyfriend to Sleep in Five Minutes was a go. You knew Minho was tired, and you wanted to send him off into a good night’s sleep in the most loving way you could.

The hallway light switched off as Minho opened the door to your bedroom, sporting a playful frown. It was time for Step One: Put him in a blanket.

“Come here, baby,” you peeled the duvet back and patted the space on the bed right next to you, beckoning your pouty boyfriend over to you. “Let’s get you to sleep, yeah?”

Trudging over to his side of the bed, Minho slid onto the mattress and pulled the heavy duvet over his body. Freshly washed, the warm, lavender-scented blanket immediately soothed his senses.

“You could’ve at least stayed with me while I brushed my teeth,” Minho continued to pout as he turned on his side to face you, “and, I don’t know, given me a back hug or something.”

Though his tone was playful, you recognized the look in Minho’s gaze. He yearned for your comfort, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. Reaching over, you cupped his face, gently caressing his cheek with your thumb. You peppered a few pecks on the corners of his mouth, kissing his pout away. Perfect timing for Step Two: Give reassuring pets.

“I’m here now, it’s okay.” His hair was soft in between your fingers as you threaded them through the fluffy locks. They smelled faintly of his coconut shampoo.

Tired, Minho let out a yawn, nose scrunched and eyelids shut. He leaned into your touch, humming contently.

Faintly, the door creaked open and you could hear light thuds on the carpeted floor, followed by a slightly louder thud on the bed as Doongie entered the bedroom and jumped up to join you. He stepped all over Minho’s body—drawing out a quiet yelp from the man beside you. You giggled as Doongie finally plopped down on Minho’s pillow, snuggling against the top of his head. This brought you to Step Three: Tuck him in.

With your boyfriend lying under the covers, you hooked one leg over him, moving your hand on his head to tuck it into your neck, cradling his body with no intent to stop any time soon.

For a second, the universe felt still. It was as though the ever-rotating hands on the clock had stopped moving, pausing to witness this intimate moment between you and Minho; as if even the angels in the skies above didn’t want this sweet gesture to end.

That was until Minho decided to take matters into his own hands and execute Step Four: Put one arm out for temperature regulation.

“It's too warm!” Minho whined into your neck, breaking the silence, and removed one arm from under the blanket, exposing it to the cold air. “Ah, that's better.”

He turned on his side and wrapped his now free arm around the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, if that were even physically possible.

Seeing your bodies pressed flush against each other, Soonie—who was previously lounging at the foot of the bed—crawled up the sheets and nuzzled into the barely-there gap between you and Minho, with Dori following suit.

Within five minutes of lying down, the night ended with your small family cuddled together on the warm, cozy bed, basking in each other’s comfort.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

taglist: @kflixnet @jinnixxn @elllisaaa @captainchrisstan @laylasbunbunny @starsandrqindrops @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @forlix @mires-empire @quesweebs

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

#k-labels #kflixnet #stray kids #lee know #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lee minho fluff #lee know fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho #skz #skz x reader #skz lee know #・₊✧ written in the stars

[qqueenofhades]

I understand how important it is to be able to criticize the President, and am not at all of the belief he should be beyond critique, but the critiquing of Biden makes me so nervous. (That's not to say I agree with every decision he's made - I absolutely do not). But I feel like people see things he's done wrong and decide they won't vote for him because of it. I'm not sure if enough people have the ability to see that he's done things wrong but also is our only hope of staving off literal fascism.

So many people talk about how sick they are of it constantly being a lesser of two evils situation, constantly having to vote for a candidate they hate because the other side is worse (I heard it in 2020, 2022, etc), and I guess I just- I don't really get it? We're here because they didn't do that in 2016. All of this could've been avoided had the result been different then. I just feel like people don't comprehend how different of a place we'd be in if Hillary won and engage in all this cognitive dissonance to make themselves feel better about being part of the reason she didn't.

Like.... this has been a long-running topic of discussion on my blog, not least because it is so inexplicable and maddening. It also shows how terribly shallow most people's understanding of the American political process is, and how toxic the "I can only vote for a candidate if every single personal belief/position of theirs matches mine" belief is, as well as how much damage it has done to American democracy even (and indeed, especially) by people who technically don't identify as right-wing. Yell at Republicans all you like (God knows I do, because they're the worst people on earth) but they vote. Every time. Every election. Every candidate. Whereas the Democratic electorate still holds out for Mister Perfect, and it very definitely is Mister Perfect. The amount of "evil HRC!!!" Republican-poisoned Kool-Aid that so-called progressives drank in 2016, and then afterward when they insisted they could have voted for someone like Elizabeth Warren and then didn't do that in 2020, is... baffing.

Frankly, I don't care if Hillary Clinton's personal positions on XYZ issue were the most Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Shill to Ever Shill (and Online Leftists' intellectual skills being what they are, I seriously doubt that they were using any of those words correctly and/or accurately). American policy is not made by "personal dictate of the ruler," or at least it shouldn't be, because we are not an absolute monarchy. We rely on the operation of a system with input from many people. As such, if Hillary had been elected, we would have 2-3 new liberal justices on SCOTUS and have secured civil and environmental rights for the next generation. Roe would be intact, and all the other terrible rulings that SCOTUS has recently handed down wouldn't have happened. We wouldn't have had January 6th, the attempt to stage a coup, all the tawdry scandals, our national security being at risk because of Trump stealing classified documents and probably selling them to Russia and/or Saudi Arabia, etc etc. If you think that's in any way an equivalent amount of evil to what would have happened if Hillary was elected, or if she was "still evil!!!," then I honestly don't know what to tell you. She could fucking murder puppies in her spare time if she had preserved SCOTUS for us, WHICH SHE WOULD HAVE, BECAUSE SHE WARNED US EXACTLY WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

(Hoo. Sorry. Still steamed. 2016 war flashbacks, again.)

In short, Hillary would have been a solid continuity Democrat and she would have signed whatever legislation a Democratic House and Senate passed, not to mention been hugely inspiring as the first female president. But because it's so important to the Online Leftists' moral sense of themselves that BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME!!!, they can't possibly acknowledge that ever being a factor, and/or admit that they have any culpability in not voting for her in 2016. It's like when you read the British press about any of the UK's equally numerous problems, and they BEND OVER BACKWARD to avoid mentioning that Brexit might be a factor. They just can't mention it, because then that means they might have made the wrong choice in pulling for it as hard as they did, and blah blah Sovereignty.

Basically, if HRC had been elected president, everything would be so much less terrible and terrifying all the time, we would be talking about her successor in 2024 as someone else who could be the "first," we could explore handing the reins over to Kamala as a Black/Asian woman, we could promote Buttigieg as the first gay president, etc etc. But because 2016 was so catastrophically fucked up, we are in damage control mode for the immediate future and every election is just as pivotal. And yet, because people think that the only thing that matters is a presidential candidate's personal views, we're stuck having the same old arguments and desperately begging people over and over to please vote against fascism, since that somehow isn't self-evident enough on its own. Yikes on Bikes.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #hillary clinton was right about everything: the redux redux redux

[lua-magic]

Tenth lord and your professional life

Tenth house is house of karma and duty, tenth house says alot about the attitude that you will carry towards your work.

While, tenth lord wherever, it sits, that house will bring you professional success.

Let me be clear here, I am mentioning about "Vedic astrology " and morden era has got many jobs, and streams so in my blog I can't specifically tell which stream you can go or opt, because that also depends on your position of your Sun, Saturn and Venus in your chart.

Here, I will discuss how you can attract professional success and attract right career for yourself, so that you will get brief idea how astrology can help you in your professional life as well.

Tenth lord in first house 🏠

First house is you, so your professional success depends on you and your personality, more you work on your personality more successful you become.

Your professional life in your hands, and Only you control it.

Tenth lord in second house 🏠

Second house is of house of finance, so either you can work in financial sector or you can work with your family as well.

Second house is also of communication, so communication would play an important role in professional success.

Tenth lord in third house 🏠

Third house is house of efforts and courage, more efforts you would put in your professional life, more successful you would get

Third House is also of skills, so work on your skills development.

It also shows you can also work with your siblings.

Third house is also of travelling, so choose job that requires traveling.

Tenth lord in fourth house.

Fourth house is your comfort, and also your emotions, such natives can become good psychologists, therapist, psychiatry who understands mind and emotions.

Fourth house is also Home, so either you can work from home, or do some work related to home like real estate, interior decorator.

Tenth lord in fifth house 🏠

Such natives are good in teaching children, so they can go in teaching and education sector.

Fifth house is also of children, so native could work for children.

Fifth house is also of intellect, so such natives are intellectuals and enjoys work that requires intelligence.

Tenth lord in sixth house

Sixth house is of debt, and disease, and eniemies such natives could earn from other's problems, like they could become doctor, healer, lawyer, account.

Virgo is the sign of problem solving, such natives are great problem solver and enjoys work that requires problems solving abilities.

Tenth lord in seventh house 🏠

Seventh house is of partnership, such natives should always work in partnership, or involve your life partner also in your work.

Seventh house is also of public dealings, so such natives are great in dealing with public,.

Tenth lord in eight house 🏠

Eighth house is of secrets, so native can work in sectors that requires secrecy, like spy, Secret services.

Eighth house is also of research, so that can take up research oriented job.

Eighth house is also of occult and astrology

Eighth house also deals with other' s Money, so native can go in investment banking, insurance, banking.

Tenth lord in ninth house 🏠

Ninth house is of divine blessings, so your work has always divine blessings and luck.

Ninth house is of counseling and guidance, so native can work as an counsellor or as a coach.

Tenth lord in tenth house 🏠

Extremely comfortable position for tenth lord in its own house 🏠, such natives can take up any job role that they desire, they would do well in that.

Tenth lord in eleventh house 🏠

Eleventh house is of gains, native would gain alot from his work life

Eleventh house is also your social circle, so you can work with group of people like "co-operative society" . Eleventh house is also of social media and elder siblings so native can work in social media or with elder siblings..

Tenth lord in twelfth house 🏠

It is bit tricky placement, because twelfth House is of looses and transformations, so native could experience, lot of transformations in his/her professional life.

Twelfth house is also of devotion and giving, so you have to be devoted to your professional life without expectations.

Twelfth house is also of spirituality and foreign land, so you can work in spirituality or settle far from your motherland.

If tenth house has Rahu, then you can choose job profile that are unconventional, that no one in your family has done it.

Rahu is your vision, so keep your vision clear and big

If tenth house has ketu, then you need to go in job or service that requires helping others because ketu is liberation, and your job is to liberate people from their pain or problems

Ketu is intent so keep your intentions clear.

If your tenth house has, sun, then you are born leader and you will show way or direction to others..

If your tenth house has Moon, then you could good in cooking or do work related to mind , emotions and psychology .

If your tenth house has Mercury, Mercury is a business man, so you can go in business, or work related to documents, education field is also good for you.

If tenth house has Venus then work related to cosmetics, beauty and luxury would be good for you

If tenth house has Mars, then you have lot of Martian energy within you, and Mars is exalted in tenth house, so any work is good for you, you are good multi-tasker and a logical person, so any field that requires logic like engineering will good, Mars is also land, so land related jobs are also good, Mars is also security so Mars makes good police, army and security .

Jupiter in tenth house makes great counsllor and guide.

Jupiter is also spirituality and religion, so such person can go in spirituality as well

Saturn in tenth house, is exalted and its own sign, Saturn is planet that loves to serve others, so here you need to take your job as a service, and a way to serve others, even when you are at high position, don't act like boss and command others infact do all the work by yourself, because Saturn gets satisfied only when people below them are happy..

#vedic astro observations #spirituality #astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astro community #vedic astro notes #vedic chart #vedic astrology

[thebibliosphere]

"But you're so successful without it."

Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicidal ideation.

I got a message earlier tonight that I'm not going to post, but I did ask the person involved if I could talk about what we subsequently ended up talking about in DMs because I feel it's important.

Basically, it was along the lines of "My kid got diagnosed with ADHD and really wants to try meds. I know from reading your blog that correct treatment for ADHD can be really beneficial, but I just don't think she's severe enough to need them."

The message then went on to ask me, as someone who is unmedicated with ADHD, for some tricks and tips on how to be successful without medication because clearly, look how well I'm doing without them. I mean, look at my blog, look at my book(s)! Surely if I can do all that without ADHD meds, other people can too. Surely there's a trick. A skill. Something you can learn if you just try hard enough...

This is not the first time I have received a message like this. In fact, I probably get about 2-5 messages like this a week.

Usually from other people who also have ADHD/suspect ADHD but don't want medication because they don't think they need it/don't want to need it, and yet can't figure out why they're struggling so much, and ask me how do I do the thing(s) and cope so well and get so much done, etc., etc.

So I'm going to tell you what I told this person tonight in case it helps someone. Yes, I have ADHD. No, I am not medicated due to severe health complications, and yes, I get a lot done. From the outside, I am sure it looks incredibly productive and successful. But I'm going to let you in on what that success feels like.

It feels like dying.

It feels like my brain is on fire; every nerve in my body scraped raw; every part of me wired and exposed to the noise of the world. There is no quiet; there is no calm. And even when my brain does fall silent, it's another kind of death. The inside of my head is sludge, flowing uphill like treacle, weighing me down, pulling me under in the riptide of my inability to focus. I can see what needs to be done, I can see it so clearly, yet sometimes it's like I don't control my own body. Not enough dopamine. Not enough brain chemicals for the message I'm screaming in my head to make my limbs do the simplest of tasks. Like, feed myself. Take a shower. Answer that email. Text my friends back. Go to bed when I'm tired. Write a best-selling novel...

A novel that almost killed me and not because of my other ailments, but because of my unmedicated ADHD.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was already operating at critical mass when I went into final rewrites/edits. Every coping mechanism I had fell apart. Like training wheels falling off a tricycle, leaving me to wobble unsteadily until the main wheels fell off, swiftly followed by the handlebars until all that was left was me peddling frantically trying to keep my balance and not getting anywhere. I didn't realize it then, but I was heading towards a complete mental collapse. And even when I dragged myself across the finish line with the above and beyond help provided by my friends and editors, I was so burned out I couldn't enjoy my success. Worse, my success made me suicidal.

It took me until very recently, almost two years later, to be able to read Phangs without feeling suicidal. My brain associated it with the trauma of experiencing complete ADHD burnout but having to complete a monumental task anyway.

I had to go into intensive therapy to recover. I am still in intensive therapy for it.

It took me even longer after that to be able to sit down and write without harming myself. I still struggle with it, and I tell you this in all honest sincerity in the hope it makes you realize what it costs me to be "successful" and unmedicated.

And this wasn't the first time I've had to deal with this, either.

I struggled all through high school, all through college, all through every career job I ever had, knowing there was something wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on it because hey, I still got stuff done, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely everyone went through life feeling this way? Right?

...right?

It wasn't until I got my ADHD diagnosis as an adult that I realized what was happening. Why I struggled so much. Why life was so hard. In many ways, it was like the sun coming up. An internal dawning of realization and acceptance, but also rage.

So much rage.

Rage at how much I'd had to struggle because no one noticed because I was quiet and undisruptive. Rage at a system that forced me to learn in ways that were not intuitive to my brain. To always being told, "doesn't apply herself" while it felt like I was clawing my brain apart trying to do what people wanted from me. To a work-life balance, that rewards all the things that make ADHD actively worse. Rage. So much rage it hurts. And to top it all off, I can't be medicated for it. I finally know what's different, I finally know why my world feels raw and turned inside out, and I can't take any of the medications that might help me.

Do you know how angry I wake up every day that there is a possible solution just within my grasp, but my health conditions prevent me from trying them? Do you know how much it hurts? How much I grieve for the person I could be if I was able to have help beyond therapy and coaching? How much happier I could be...

Not productive. Not successful. Happy.

So ask yourself, what do you want more? A child who has to go through all of this and resents you for prolonging their suffering? Who winds up hating themselves by internalizing the false concept that if they just try hard enough, they can do whatever they set their mind to.

Or do you want to help them?

Or if this is you, why are you afraid to help yourself?

Please, don't use me as an example to harm yourself or others. Yes, I am successful without medication. But the toll is high. Too high.

Rid yourself of the idea that you need to suffer more to be allowed help. You don't. They don't. No one does.

#adhd #adult adhd #actually adhd #chronic health tag #suicide mention #suicidal ideation #long post #mental health #I am not for you to bludgeon other people with #kindly desist

[holllandtrash]

you know 6 to 1 yn said something about carlos’s mustache and lando threatened to grow his hair back out of playful jealousy

word count: 4.1k tags/warnings: some angst, jealousy, mentions of smut kind of part of the 6 to 1 series

carlossainz55

liked by ynleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 391,202 others

carlossainz55 off to Canada 🇨🇦 let's keep pushing

view all 1,542 comments

scuderiaferrari now that's a smoooth operator

spicysainzz its illegal for a man to look this good

ynleclerc god don't tell me you're growing out your facial hair now too

carlossainz55 you love it ynleclerc sure

“Oh so you like Carlos’ facial hair?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You didn't look up from the cutting board, already deciding that whatever Lando was on about wasn’t as important as making dinner.

“You like his facial hair,” Lando repeated, a statement this time. 

It was impossible to not give him any attention when he shoved his phone in your face. You took a breath, asking yourself what you were getting yourself into as you dropped the knife on the counter and tuned in on his screen, more specifically, at the comment you had left on Carlos’ most recent picture. 

“It’s a harmless comment,” you scoffed, knowing that your friendship with Carlos was nothing for him to worry about, yet he always seemed to be triggered by the most mundane things. 

“But you like his facial hair.”

“Are those the only words you know how to say?” 

You pushed the phone out of your face and turned properly to face him, only then seeing that he wasn’t taking this conversation as a joke the same way you were. His jaw had tightened, the lines in his forehead displayed his very prominent annoyance and you flipped a switch to react accordingly, hand going up to cup his cheek

“Lando,” you said, a slight shake of the head. “You’re being dramatic. I commented on my friend's photo. Who is also your friend. It’s nothing to get worked up over, okay?”

Lando and Carlos were still two peas in a pod. Their bond was unbreakable but since you started dating you could tell he was always slightly on edge whenever you and Carlos were alone together. And of course Lando trusted you, you’re the one person who held his heart he knew you wouldn’t do anything to damage it.

It was Carlos he didn’t trust. 

He didn’t like that Carlos had never once talked to Lando about the kiss you had shared. It was this strange, unspoken thing, but when you tried to explain how weird it would be for Carlos to approach him and say ‘hey, I had feelings for your girlfriend and we kissed but don’t worry about’ it didn’t really click for Lando. 

So he just held his breath and watched from a distance whenever you interacted with the Spanish driver and if he felt your conversations lingered a little too long for his liking, he’d find a way to pull you aside and remind you who exactly you were in the paddock for. 

He had no control over what happened on Instagram, though. And it wasn’t like he was going to tell you to unfollow your brother's teammate, so he just ignored any bitter thoughts that came to mind if he saw your name show up in Carlos’ likes. 

But that comment. 

It was friendly, sure, but it was the fact that it was on the topic of facial hair that really stung. Lando knew how much you hated his facial hair when he tried to grow it out and the only reason he ended up shaving was because you made your dislike for it so abundantly clear. 

So why the fuck did you not hate it on Carlos?

Carlos didn’t have as difficult of a time growing out the stubble like Lando did. And his already prominent moustache was just only going to get thicker and you didn’t hate it. It was clear by your comment, despite it being sarcastic, that you didn’t hate it. 

And Lando hated that.

“You’re really bothered by this,” you said aloud when it sunk in that this wasn’t something Lando would get over after a good night's sleep. 

“I am, yes.”

“And what's bothering you, exactly? The fact that I commented on his picture?” You asked, wanting to get to the root of the problem. “Or are you annoyed that I had a different reaction to his facial hair than I did with yours?”

Lando hesitated before finally muttering a quiet, “Both.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed on his chest, wanting not only a bit of space from his childish ways of thinking but also wanting to finish dinner. You picked up the knife and went back to mincing the pepper, not about to coddle Lando or assure him that he had nothing to worry about because this was a conversation you had had way too many times for your liking and if he didn’t know you loved him by now then that was his problem. 

But Lando wasn’t about to move on as easy as you had, “I’m just saying-” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” You cut him off, voice shaper than the knife in your hand. Each cut against the board echoed in the confined space and Lando could tell you were applying more pressure than needed, relying on your actions to show that you really didn’t want to have this conversation.

And Lando stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Not just about the picture, but in general. When you asked him to set the table, he did so without his usual childish complaints. The conversation between you during dinner was cold and distant but you didn’t want to press further, knowing that he’d get over this in his own way.

You thought things were fine when he crawled into bed shortly after you did because he curled his arm around your waist like normal, pulling you against his chest as his soft breath hit your neck. You whispered ‘goodnight to him, but his lack of response wasn’t something you thought too much about. 

It wasn’t until you woke up did the trouble really begin. 

You walked into the bathroom first thing in the morning, rubbing your eyes and the residue of mascara that didn’t come off after washing your face last night. After turning on the sink and letting the water run, you wiped a disposable cloth over your face and tossed it out immediately after. Naturally, the rest of your morning routine would have followed, had a perfectly good electric razor not have caught your eye at the top of the garbage can.

“Lando!” You basically screamed, knowing he was in the inbetween stages of awake and asleep when you had gotten out of bed. You heard the rustling of sheets and the patter of footsteps as you grabbed the razor out of the bin. 

When you turned around, one hand resting on your hip you saw a very tired Lando standing in the hallway. Usually the sight of him bare chested and wearing nothing but boxers was enough to have you contemplating dragging him back to bed, but not this time.

“What is this?” You asked, so obviously talking about the razor Lando had thrown out the night prior. “A peaceful protest?”

Lando looked at you and then at the little contraption and then back at you, a hint of a playful smile on his face. Of course now he thought this was funny.

“Yeah that’s a good way to put it.” 

“Are you fu-” you sucked in a breath to avoid losing your shit on him five minutes after waking up. “Why?”

“Because I’m growing out my facial hair again.”

“Why?” 

“Oh is that the only word you know how to say?” Lando asked, mimicking your question from last night with more sarcasm than you wanted to deal with at nine in the morning.

You rolled your eyes and shoved the razer into his chest before storming past him, dragging your fingers through the roots of your hair while he was forced to call your name, stopping you from slamming the door to the bedroom.

“What?” Lando asked, voice raised. “Why are you so upset about this?”

Your hands tensed, cupping your own face as you exhaled into your palms before your arms fell back to your side, “I’m upset because you clearly are doing this because of that stupid comment on Carlos’ picture.”

“Maybe I just want to grow my facial hair out again,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t thrown the razor out again, but that didn’t give you any sort of hope that he would hear you out.

“You don’t,” you scoffed. “You told me yourself it wasn’t permanent the first time. You just wanted to try it out. You tried it and it turns out, not for you.”

“Maybe I’ll like it more the second time.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, instead choosing to turn on your heels and start to walk into your bedroom, muttering a quiet, “Maybe I’ll hate it more the second time”

“Oh but you love Carlos’ facial hair.”

That stopped you in his tracks. Lando finally admitting that it was, in fact, the comment that was getting to him. Carlos and your interaction was the catalyst to all of this and instead of Lando seeing it as an exchange between friends, he was taking it personally.

You turned back around and walked right up to him, nearly chest to chest when he straightened up from the wall. Lando and you didn’t usually fight, both of you knew how important communication and trust was and it was and after the rocky start you had, you never wanted to go back to a place of uncertainty with him.

But this was fucking annoying.

“That’s what you’re mad about, huh?” You asked, holding his stare. “The fucking comment. And you think that growing your facial hair out is, what, a way to get back at me? Because you know I hate it?”

Lando said nothing, a dead giveaway that you were 100% right and he was simply being immature for the sake of being immature. 

“Okay,” you nodded, throwing Lando off when your tone went from deadly to calm before he could blink. “You want to be mad? Fine. I’ll give you something to be mad about.”

Lando watched as you walked back to the room and he hesitantly followed, trying to make sense of whatever that ominous warning was that just came out of your mouth. He didn’t say anything when you walked out of the closet, fully dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. An Enchante t-shirt even though he thought you were past wearing Danny’s merch. He didn’t say anything when you grabbed a backpack from under the bed and put your wallet and a few other necessities in there because it wasn’t like you were packing. This flat in London was basically your second home and this spat seemed too minor for you to be packing up your things and leaving.

But you were going somewhere.

“Where the hell are you going?” Lando asked when you finished brushing a comb through your hair. You slung the straps of the backpack over your shoulder and then, this was the kicker, you grabbed your passport that was sitting on top of the dresser.

You barely looked at him as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his before you headed straight for the door. 

“Back to Monaco. See you in Canada.”

—————

You were true to your word. Cutting off communication with Lando until you landed in Montreal the Thursday before the grand prix weekend started. 

Lando, in return, did not reach out. But he did make it perfectly obvious that he was growing out the facial hair again, making sure to post about it every chance he got. You swore you had never seen him share so many pictures on his photography account and were you a little upset he went to New York without you? Kind of, but you were stubborn and so was he and you had now found yourselves giving each other the cold shoulder over a goddamn comment on Carlos fucking Sainz’s instagram picture.

“What’s up with you and Lando?” Charles asked, an unmistakable pep in his voice that you raised your eyebrows at. He stood next to you on the balcony overlooking the paddock, arms rested over the railing and mirroring your position, but he cleared his throat and reworded his question. “It’s just, something’s up, no?”

You shouldn’t have been surprised he figured out there was tension. If Lando’s fans could put two and two together when you neglected to comment or even like any of his pictures, your own brother could figure it out too.

“He’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well I could have told you that,” Charles snorted. “What really happened?”

“I commented on Carlos’ picture a few weeks ago and Lando took it as me liking Carlos’ facial hair even though I made it perfectly clear I hated it when he was trying to grow out his hair.”

Charles took a second to repeat your words in his head, “He’s upset because you commented on Carlos’ moustache?”

You nodded, “And now he’s growing his facial hair out again out of spite.”

“This is about so much more than facial hair isn’t it?”

You clasped your hands together. You felt Charles’ eyes practically burning holes into the side of your head but you focused on the people wandering around the paddock. 

“He’s just dramatic and immature,” you muttered, deciding that was an easier answer than to have a whole therapy session with him. “He’ll learn his lesson, though. I have an idea.”

“Why do I have a feeling you are also about to be dramatic and immature?”

You laughed in response, right as you spotted the exact person you needed to help you with this idea. You patted Charles on the arm and told him you’d see him later before you all but sprinted down the stairs of the motorhome to chase after the other Ferrari driver.

“Carlos!” You called out, running after him before he could get too far. He turned around when he heard his name, a smile on his face when he recognized the voice belonging to you. 

You had to admit, the grown out facial hair did suit him. Carlos was always handsome but this made him look more mature, more distinguished. 

“I need you to do me a favour,” you said, a playful smile painted on your lips.

Carlos nodded, “This sounds like deja vu.”

“It has to do with getting back at Lando.”

“Now it really sounds like deja vu,” His eyes widened momentarily as he thought back to what happened in the club when you last asked for his help. He was still traumatised from that DJ set. But Carlos loved you, platonically of course, he would always help you. “What do you need, hermosa?”

A few photographers started to crowd you and usually at this point, any driver would continue walking to get away from the unscheduled media harassment. But this was what you needed.

You raised your hand up to his jaw, thumb tracing over the hair he was growing out as a shimmer of adoration glossed over your eyes. Your lips curled upwards and Carlos, even though he was certainly confused, played along, loving any excuse to mess with Lando.

“Just tell me to kiss you and I will,” Carlos joked quietly, face only inches from yours, and you pushed on his chest in response. He caught you a little off guard when he reached for your hand and pulled you back before you could force some space between you. 

You glanced at his lips as Carlos held your hand between your bodies. You reached up with your other hand to cup his chin lightly, thumb dangerously close to his lips. To anyone walking by, it most likely looked like you were about to kiss him.

But you got all that you needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shooting him a wink before you pulled yourself from his grasp and walked back to the Ferrari motorhome, knowing that the media was about to have a field day with those photos. 

You didn’t see Lando at all in the paddock. Whether that was intentional on his behalf or not, you had no idea. You did, however, see your name blowing up on twitter along with all of the comments about how you and Carlos looked too damn friendly to be just friends. 

Lando’s text came about an hour after your name started trending. 

Charles told you that you potentially took it a step too far, having a few choice words himself to say about you and Carlos, all of which you tuned out and told him you knew what you were doing. 

But you weren’t entirely sure who had the upper hand when you got your key from the receptionist and made your way up to Lando’s suite at the end of the night. You purposely took your time getting there, deciding to go out for dinner with a friend first before finding yourself at his hotel.

And now you were holding your breath as the card reader turned green and unlocked. You pushed the door open, not having anticipated seeing Lando sitting on the couch and leaning forward as he scrolled through his laptop that was perched on the coffee table. He heard you walk in, heard you put your bag on the counter, heard you slide your shoes off and clear your throat, but he didn’t look up once.

Lando simply turned the laptop around on the table so the screen was facing you instead. On the screen was a tweet, or maybe it was a photo from Instagram, you were standing too far away to tell the source but you could make out the image of you and Carlos.

More specifically, the image of you holding your hand against Carlos’ cheek and giving him the smile that was usually reserved for Lando. One he hadn’t seen in almost two weeks.

He clicked on the trackpad and the next one appeared. Much more intimate than the last as this was the photo that gave Lando a heart attack. He didn’t expect to open his phone after the media pen interview and see pictures of his girlfriend about to kiss his best friend.

You didn’t regret what you did, that little act. You didn’t actually do anything except plant an idea in Lando’s head.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked, gesturing to the laptop. You took a few, horribly slow, steps forward. You were nervous about how this conversation would go, but you knew how to mask your emotions enough and as Lando stood up, eyeing you over, you didn’t buckle under the weight of his gaze.

He scratched his chin, his overgrown stubble, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth.

You expected him to snap. To say something about the facial hair, about the photos, about Carlos. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks and you assumed that the first conversation you had would be a fight, because, let’s face it, you were both dramatic and immature.

But you didn’t expect his shoulders to drop and for his stare to go from cold to distant as he opened his mouth and asked a question that broke you the way nothing else in your life ever could.

“Do you love me?”

It caught you by surprise, “Do I-” You took a few steps forward, the wall you had up had now fallen and all you wanted to do was reach for him. “Why are you even asking that? Of course I love you. You know I love you.”

“So then why?” He asked, referring to the photos.

You exhaled a breath before responding, “Because you were making a big deal out of that stupid comment, Lando.”

He stepped forward too, closing the gap between you inch by inch, “I made the appropriate amount of deal over seeing my girlfriend flirt with someone on social media.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, not yet. It seemed that you both wanted to avoid that. You weren’t ones to yell at each other, you argued, yes, but your voices never echoed off the walls. 

And you didn’t want to yell, not when you knew what this was really about.

Your lips parted, but you barely got a thought out, “Lando-”

“He still has feelings for you.” He stated, as if Carlos had told him that himself. “He still likes you and I know- I know you guys are friends, I can’t tell you not to be friends but I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t like that you are blissfully unaware that he’s into you, that he’s-”

“No, you know what I don’t like?” You cut him off sharply. “I don’t like that this is clearly something that’s bothering you and instead of talking about it to me from the beginning, you let it simmer and focus on things like comments and facial hair and being childish, Lando.” 

When you stepped forward, Lando thought you were about to lose it on him. Instead, you lifted your hands to cup beneath his jaw, your thumbs gently tracing small circles on his cheek and Lando could finally breathe because this was the first time in days he was feeling your touch and even though things were strange between you, your hands holding his face in font of yours felt right.

“You need to talk to me about these things,” you told him. “If something’s eating at you like this. How was I supposed to know this was so much bigger than a stupid fucking moustache?”

Lando laughed at your question, because it really was insane when he thought about it. He should have told you about his distrust with Carlos instead of letting his frustration boil up.

“Lando, I love you,” you whispered with a soft chuckle. “I love everything about you, everything that matters. Your heart, your soul, the way you treat people, your sense of humour, the way I can trust you with absolutely everything, how you managed to win over my entire family and for fucks sakes, yes, I absolutely hate your facial hair but have you ever stopped and thought about why?” 

Of course he hadn’t. Lando acted first and thought later.

He hesitated before asking, “Why?”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards, your eyes darting down to his lips as you pulled him closer, his hands finding your waist. 

You lips hovered over his, teasing him with a ghost of a kiss, something just within his reach but when he tried to connect your lips you kept pulling back, leaving him hanging.

“Because it itches.”

Lando pulled his head back, still in your grasp but no longer trying to kiss you as confusion flashed over his features instead.

“Itches?”

“Itches,” you repeated with a slow nod. “I don’t like your facial hair-” you ran your thumb over his chin and the stubble he had grown out. “-because when you go down on me, it. Itches.”

Lando opened his mouth, only to close it promptly while your words sunk in. Of course that had never crossed his mind, that the feeling of his facial hair rubbing against the inside of your thighs, near your folds, would cause displeasure. 

“And I’m sorry about the incident with Carlos,” you continued on, knowing you had to address it. “I’m not making excuses but if you are acting childish, I- in return -will also act childish. If I had known it was about more than facial hair, I wouldn’t have caused such a scene but god, Lando, I don’t give a shit about Carlos growing out a beard or a moustache because it’s not his lips on me. It’s not him eating me out.”

Lando cleared his throat, not surprised that you were so blunt with your choice of words. You always were. He was surprised, though, when you stepped away from him and turned around, leaving him a little speechless as you walked towards the bedroom.

Before stepping through the door frame, you glanced over your shoulder and raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you just going to stand there?”

That got him moving. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off as he followed your footsteps, discarding the top behind him. When his arms slid around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, you melted into his hold.

You craned your neck, giving him more than enough access to press his lips to your skin. Your hands covered his as the quietest moan followed a strained exhale. He trailed his lips upwards, but refrained from going further, lifting his head up after just a few seconds.

You turned and looked at him, spotting that stupid grin on his face. 

He nudged you towards the bed, “Get comfy, my love, I need to take care of something first.”

You didn’t need to question what he had to take care of. He planted a kiss on your cheek and retreated towards the bathroom. Doing what he said, you climbed atop the bed and you as well, had a stupid grin on your face when you overheard the dull sound of an electric razor trailing in from the hallway.

And god was it music to your ears.

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #ln4 #holllandtrash #6 to 1 series

[skzdarlings]

the heist team | the threesome series ; skz ; minho/reader/changbin

masterlist.

threesome series part 2/4.

pairing: lee minho/reader/seo changbin content info: sexual content. threesome. friends2lovers. very cheesy criminal heist shenanigans (very "we're in" style hacking and some laser grids lol). "fake" kissing, getting sexy as a distraction, giving sex directions, sexual tension that gets resolved. pussy eating, dick sucking, coming inside. purple haired minho bc meow <3

-

The camper van was the best idea you ever had.  It is much easier to enact dastardly schemes while inconspicuously hiding in plain sight. 

On the outside, the van looks like any civilian camper, but the inside is a veritable den of high-tech con-artistry.   It has a place for Minho to hang the get-ups for his grifting gambits, a compartment for Changbin to store his weapons and down-time dumbbells, and it has the sexiest, sleekest, most mouth-watering computer apparatus that has ever existed.  You love it more than anything in this world. 

Every job, you sit in the midst of your beloved computer screens, directing the operation while your boys do the ground work.  Despite knowing of your undying love for this system, your best friends and partners-in-crime are presently trying to separate you from your baby.

“Is she calling the computer her baby again?”  Minho asks from where he is getting dressed behind a curtain. 

“Yes,” Changbin says.  He is sitting in your computer chair with his arms distractingly crossed, his biceps bulging in his tight black shirt.  He is wearing a lot of lycra, having formerly anticipated he would be doing physical work tonight.

That all changed when you realized the nature of tonight’s job. 

You only ever target the obscenely rich, the kind of wealth that is obtained through its own nature of theft and villainy.  Tonight’s targets are a bunch of pompous elites celebrating themselves.  Upstairs is a gala kicking off a week-long set of dinners, auctions, and celebrations.   Downstairs is millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities, set to go up for auction the following day.  

It looked like a typical job, the kind where Minho could sweet-talk some fools while Changbin punched some security guards and you hacked the vault from the van.  The security system around the haul turned out to be far more advanced.  Operating with a form of artificial intelligence, it essentially learns as it goes, meaning hacking it from the outside is incredibly difficult as it will understand and respond to invasion.  It will be easier to outsmart from the inside, where you can reach your hand into its virtual heart and pluck its digital ventricles one by one. 

The boys do not have that kind of computer knowledge.  So now Changbin is in your chair, Minho is doing his make-up, and you are waving around an emergency cocktail dress. 

“Who’s gonna watch my baby if I’m in there!”  

“Yah! Rude woman!  You remember who helped you build this thing?” Changbin pats one of the computer towers to make his point.  “I can do the basic work in here, but I can’t do your complicated nerd things.” 

“I’m not a nerd!”  You definitely are.  You stare at the cocktail dress morosely.  “You’re forgetting something super important. That I am a total weirdo and I panic whenever someone looks at me! There’s a reason I don’t do the people side of things!  That’s what you guys are good at!”

“Technically I just hit them,” Changbin says. 

“You are plenty charming when you want to be and you know it,” you say. 

Changbin folds his hands behind his head, flexing all his muscles while grinning. 

“How charming?” he teases, cocky.  “Describe it to me.” 

“Shut up.”  You hit him with the cocktail dress to hide the fact he got you genuinely flustered.  “I can’t go in there.  People will know I don’t belong the second I walk in the room.  We won’t even get close enough to the computer bank for me to disarm it because they’ll get one look at me and throw me out the window.” 

“That won’t happen,” Minho says.   His changing area is behind you and you hear the metallic slide of the curtain opening.  “Because you won’t be going in there alone.”  

You don’t even have to turn around to know Minho looks devastatingly gorgeous; it is written all over Changbin’s shocked face.  His arms lower from behind his head and his cocksure expression shifts, his lips parting as he stares past you.  

Despite having the benefit of bracing yourself, you are still struck dumb when you turn and look at Minho.  It was always in the plan that Minho would serve as a distraction at the gala.  To stand out accordingly, he dyed his hair with temporary dye this morning.  The vibrant purple was more amusing than sexy when his hair was messy, but now it is neatly styled back, slick and off his handsome face.  He is dressed all in white, his asymmetrical suit partially slit at the side to show some skin.  There is an extra sparkle from his jewelry, plus the lightest dab of glitter in the sharper contours of his face.  He is practically glowing. 

He knows he looks good.  His mouth quirks in a little smirk at your expressions.  You and Changbin are both gawping at him, and it goes on long enough that his eyebrows lift and his smirk puckers with a surprised laugh. 

“What? Really?” he asks, still laughing at you. 

Changbin does an unexpected sign of the cross.  You hit him with the cocktail dress again. 

“Fine,” you say, mostly to have an excuse to duck behind the curtain because you think you might explode from lust and embarrassment and anxiety all at once.  “At least no one will be looking at me.” 

You step behind the curtain and snap it closed, leaving the boys to their banter. 

You like dressing up so this part is no problem.  The problem with parties is other people.  You wholeheartedly admit you are better with zeroes and ones than human beings.   

You try to focus on the fun elements of tonight: the dress, the glamour, and beating a high-tech security system at its own game.  It will be so fun to have a real challenge for once.  You know you can beat it but it will definitely push you more than your usual digital adversaries.

Also, you get to look at Minho looking like that.  Your view of the boys is usually through security cameras, nestled in your van surrounded by your operating system, so the proximity will be a treat. 

You open the curtain, scowling.  You do not enjoy socializing so you seldom have occasion to dress up, so you anticipate the boys will lovingly berate you.  But when you step forward, Changbin looks at you with the same dumbfounded expression he had for Minho.  Minho is sitting on the bench, knees apart and arm slung across the backrest.  His expression gets very serious when he looks at you.  He shimmies his hips, his knees parting further. 

“Turn around,” he says.  

The van feels so tense and quiet that you obey, more confused than anything else. 

Changbin’s gaze drops to your ass immediately, his jaw visibly clenching.  Minho tips his head like he is studying something. 

“Thank you,” Minho says. 

You face them again, hot in the face.  You cross your arms angrily. 

“What was the point of that?” you demand.

Minho lifts a single eyebrow.  “I wanted to see your ass,” he says, like it should be obvious.  “It’s a good one.  You should be proud.” 

You throw your sweatpants at his stupid smirk.  He catches it smoothly. 

“Can we just go already?”  You punctuate this with a stomp of your foot then storm out of your precious van. 

It is very strange being on this side of the operation.  You always have Minho and Changbin nattering in your earpiece, but usually you are sitting at your desk wearing proper headphones.  It is strange wandering around with a tiny bud in your ear, listening to Changbin report from your usual seat. 

You already have control of the hotel security cameras as they work on a separate operating system to the storeroom AI.  You replaced the live feed with a looping reel of empty rooms so the security team inside will not see you moving around.  It also gives Changbin a bird’s eye view of the gala and the rest of the hotel.  You feel anxious at not seeing it for yourself, but you are placated when Changbin whistles and teases, “You two are the best looking there.  You would be second best looking if I was there, so you’re lucky I’m not.” 

You and Minho both smile, your expressions fond.  

Minho gets you in the door with little more than a wink at the doorman.  You stay quiet, hiding your nerves as best you can.  Minho is a competent con-man and Changbin is plenty reliable so you try to focus on your own tasks.  First you need to get to the ground floor network base so you can get the AI to chase your red herring.  Once you are in, the AI will start responding, but with your virus acting as a decoy source within the building, you should be able to buy yourselves time to move onto the next phase of breaking down the system. 

“There’s a lot of muscle at this party,” Changbin says seriously, no doubt taking stock of all the burly security guards.  It is only natural Changbin would be as twitchy as you, also out of his element for the night.  “I don’t like not being there with you,” he says.  

“Easy,” Minho says in a calm voice.  You think it is directed at both you and Changbin.  He puts a hand on your lower back and gives you a knowing look.  “You’re doing fine,” he says.

You feel like terror is written all over your face.  It doesn’t help that Minho draws eyes the second you step into the hotel ballroom, men and women looking at him with the usual desire he draws.  They are equally curious to look at you, their eyes on where his hand rests intimately low on your spine. 

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say.

“Not a bad idea,” he says.  He smiles with so much effortless charm that no one would suspect he is whispering criminal tips.  “The best con,” he says, his lips brushing your ear, “is one that is close to the truth.”  You shiver as his fingertips brush up your spine.  He rests his hand on your nape.  “Look sick,” he says.  “We’ll say we’re looking for a restroom if someone asks.” 

You follow his lead, weaving your way through the party.  Looking sick is the easiest instruction to follow because you feel genuinely ill, your anxiety a toxic twist in your gut.  

Only when you are wandering the empty hotel corridor do you feel at ease.  You feel even more at ease when you find the ground floor network hub.  Your first obstacle is a regular alarm code, twelve digits in length.  It is obviously too long to guess so you physically unscrew the alarm box and start some manual fiddling.  There is no way to fully disarm it without also setting it off, but that’s where your own AI gadget comes into play.  You plug in your cypher scrambler and let it do its thing.  It flickers through numbers, seeking the correct pattern, learning from its errors.  You designed it yourself and though it is always accurate, it takes a while to pull the numbers.  You and Minho are forced to hover in the hallway while it gradually reveals each piece of the code. 

You are up to number seven out of twelve when Changbin inhales sharply. 

“There’s a waiter walking in your direction,” he says.  “It looks like he’s taking a shortcut to somewhere else, but you have less than two minutes until he’s on you.”

 “What!”  You start to panic immediately.  “My decipher machine could take longer than that, what do we—”

“Relax, relax!”  Changbin says at the same time Minho steps behind you and grasps your shoulders.  He makes little shushing noises while massaging you, not that it does much to help. 

“We’re good,” Minho says.  “It’s just a waiter, not security.” 

“I’m gonna get us killed,” you say. 

“By a waiter?”  Minho asks.  He gives your shoulders another squeeze.  “Is he going to beat us with a baguette?  Hey, hey, relax.”

You are a vibrating bundle of nerves.  Minho is not usually the type to dive into a hug but he turns you around and pulls you into his arms.  You wrap your arms around his middle and hug him back, hiding your face in his neck. 

“Yeah, that will work,” Changbin says. 

“Huh?” you say, lifting your head. 

Minho is staring into a security camera as if having a mute exchange with Changbin.  He nods in agreement, though you still don’t understand. 

“What will work?” you ask. 

“Distraction,” Minho says.  You just look at him with confusion. 

“Baby,” Changbin says in a soft tone, “listen to my voice.”

The sudden gentleness of his voice makes you shiver.  Your fingers are shaking when Minho takes your hand and rests it over his heart.  You look up into his dark eyes as he smiles at you with familiar fondness.  You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shushing you gently.  His eyes drift to the side in anticipation of an intruder. 

“Baby,” Changbin says, his honeyed tone softening your nerves, “Minho is going to kiss you.  Just do what I say, okay?” 

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening.

“You trust us?”  Changbin asks. 

You nod, answering Changbin, gazing at Minho. 

It’s the truth.  You might be scared but you have been scared before and your boys always come through.  Even when the rest of the world left you behind, when you turned to crime to keep yourself alive, Minho and Changbin were there.  They have never let you down.  You trust them with anything and everything. 

Minho slips his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him.  You have been close before, sharing the van, sharing hotel rooms, but this feels different.  He looks at you with intent, his handsome face so close, a strand of dark purple hair curled over his forehead.  Your hand finds that patch of bare skin when you touch his side.  He is familiar and foreign at once, your Minho, and also a character, one who clasps his hand behind your back and ducks down to gently kiss your lips. 

“Take a breath, baby,” Changbin says with a little chuckle.  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Mmf,” is the noise you make, affirming that observation.   It makes Minho laugh, a breath against your lips. 

“Waiter is thirty seconds away.  You just want to look like a dumb, horny couple that wandered away from the party,” Changbin says.  “Listen to me, I’ll tell you what do.”

You nod, sucking in a breath when Minho kisses you again.  This time his mouth is a little more insistent, his lips coaxing yours open. 

“Close your eyes, baby,” Changbin says.  “Let your shoulders drop.  Minho has you, it’s okay.” 

You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were.  You listen to Changbin, letting yourself go lax.  Minho holds you, as promised, his arms sturdy around your waist as he kisses you deeply. 

“Let Minho move you,” Changbin says. “He’s going to lean you against the wall to hide the device, okay?  Put your hands on his shoulders.  Higher, baby, go around his neck.  Just like that.  Let him lead you.” 

Minho walks you backwards, carefully pressing you against the wall, hiding the dangling cypher scrambler with your bodies. 

“We wanna give our intruder a little jump scare, okay?”  Changbin says.  “Minho.”  

That is all the direction he gives Minho, trusting the adept con-man to know exactly what to do.  Minho does, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull them flush against his.  It arches your back.  Your hands are hooked behind his neck and you squeak, your fingers instinctively sinking into his hair. 

“God,” Changbin says.  The sudden dark colour to his voice sends a spark of heat shooting through you.  It clearly surprises Minho too, his lips parting with a caught breath.  “You both look hot.  Fuck.” 

Changbin takes a steadying breath.  You and Minho look at each other.  You get to see his smirk for a split second, then his mouth is on yours and it is no longer gentle and questioning.  It is a demand, hot and wanting, your lips opening with his guidance, your heart skipping beats when he licks in your mouth. 

“Do it back,” Changbin says.  “You want him to fuck you, baby.  Make him believe it.”

You think the him is question is the waiter.  Isn’t it?  You don’t even know where the waiter is anymore, if he’s around the corner or watching.  In the haziness of your kiss, it hardly seems to matter.  You kiss Minho back with the same urgency, pulling him closer, whimpering when he bites your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” is the gentle whisper that Minho can’t fight.  His brow is crinkled, his eyes closed.  He kisses you again, his hands jumping up to gather yours.  He laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the wall on either side of your head. 

“Wrap your leg around his waist,” Changbin says.  “Like that, that’s it, you’re okay.” 

You lift one leg, shaky and unsure.  Minho catches you under the knee and pulls it more certainly around him.  He holds you there, his other hand grasping your throat very gently as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.  Your hands are still splayed open by your head, thoughtlessly awaiting direction.  Your fingers curl into your palm and you moan for real when Minho presses against you. 

Minho is a good actor, but the hard shape in his pants is very real.  When he grinds against you, so open and soft with your leg around his waist, it draws all those guttural sounds right out of you.  Minho makes one back, swivelling his hips in a maddening grind against you.  It is all too easy to imagine him fucking you like this, the effortless back-and-forth of his hips, your sweet sighs as he takes you, imagining Changbin there, his breath also stuttering. 

You do not forget he is watching all this, especially when he lets another low laugh and asks, “She feel good?”

“Yes,” Minho answers without hesitation, breathing the word against your lips. 

“Hold his face, baby,” Changbin says.  “Kiss him like you mean it.  Ask him to fuck you with it.”

You know what he means by that: to kiss Minho with fervency and heat.  You do obey, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him deeply, but the fuzziness of desire mixed with Changbin’s words makes your brain go screwy with want.  Not only does your kiss convey that desire, but words rush past your mouth, crashing into Minho’s lips in a breathless flurry.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please,” you say, your voice pitching up into a little whine as you rock against him.  “Want you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you say, thinking of both of them at the same.   You kiss Minho’s surprised, open mouth, your eyes closed, your voice loud in this hazy space as you say, “I’ve been thinking about it all night.  Need it so bad.  Please.  Want you inside me.  Want my mouth on you.  Come in me.  Come on me.  Take me, please.  I’m so hot and wet, it’ll feel so good, don’t you want to feel how wet I am?  Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin says, followed by a rush of even more inventive curses.

Minho settles on another simple, surprised, “Fuck.” 

Then someone is clearing their throat.  Minho jumps, his hands clamping tighter around you, protective. 

“Oh, right, this clown,” Changbin says.  “I hate that he’s too far away too punch.” 

You giggle in spite of yourself, which is good because you think you might simultaneously die of embarrassment.  You drop your leg and Minho lets you go, pulling himself together faster than you. 

You let him do his thing, sliding a hand through his hair and smirking at the waiter as he saunters over.  He makes his little speech, something-something-something a moment alone with the missus, something-something sorry-sorry-sorry.   He walks the waiter back around the corner, giving you a knowing glance over his shoulder. 

Thank god your cypher scrambler has its act together, even if you are a mess.  It takes you longer to right yourself than it does for the scrambler to finish its job.  Your hands are shaking as you break into the hub, but muscle memory takes over when you have your mini-laptop open. 

Minho joins you a minute later.  Your entire body lights up like a firework when he steps close to you.  Nothing in his expression conveys anything more than professionalism – his queries are about the job and the job alone – but there is an ache between your thighs that won’t subside.  You know he feels the same way as you can see he is still hard despite how much he glares at the wall.  He adjusts his pants several times while standing in that closet of a hub with you.  You keep glancing at each other, your gazes heady, speaking volumes more than your polite conversation.   

When you leave and he puts his hand on your lower back, you shiver.  You think you might double over from the persistent thumping of your easily-distracted pussy. 

Changbin lets out a long sigh and a nervous giggle.  “Good work, team,” he says. 

You have worked enough jobs that you manage to set aside your personal feelings for the time being.  It is easy to lose yourself in your work, especially when you really have to fight the security system.  

You get inside the storeroom.  You know it is filled with more traps and alarms so you sit down beside the door and type away on your laptop.  You nearly break a sweat with the intensity of your work. 

“She’s hot when she’s doing her thing,” Changbin suddenly says. 

You lift your head and catch Minho’s eye.  He smiles at you.  “I agree,” he says. 

Your heart starts skipping beats again.  You look down at your laptop, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze. 

“Don’t distract me,” you say, making both of them laugh a little.  You glare at Minho but there is no real animosity behind it. 

At least they both acquiesce, going silent while you work.  You manage to disarm most of the storeroom.  The best you can do for the remainder of traps is trigger their subsequent lighting rigs so you can see them all.  A labyrinth of blue light brightens the dark entry room, revealing each laser trigger that blocks your path to the locked compartments. 

You look up at Minho whose calculating gaze is already tracing each intricate beam. 

“Got it?”  Changbin asks.

Minho starts unbuttoning his suit.  “Always,” he says, smirking. 

Minho flips the blazer down his arms, revealing just a tight white crop top beneath it.  His jacket, shoes, and jewelry form a pile beside you.   Minho does a few quick stretches before confidently approaching the laser grid. 

Before his criminal life, Minho was a dancer, and a good one.   He draws the same graceful lines with his body now, making each manoeuvre look easy even though you know it is incredibly difficult. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip and watching Minho move.  “Gotta agree.” 

Minho slips over and under each laser, twisting and bending and sliding with ease.  He pops up on the other side with a graceful twirl, throwing you a wink over his shoulder before flipping a switch on the control panel.  It powers down the censors so you can scurry across the room to join him. 

The compartment door unlocks with your final hacked access code, the door swinging open to reveal your loot.  Changbin gives a successful holler into your earpiece, making you and Minho duck with his volume. 

“I’ll bring the car around, baby,” Changbin says while you two roll your eyes but smile. 

You pack your fold out bags with your selections.  One key to success is never being overly greedy.  You walk away with a substantial victory nonetheless.    

You hurry out of the storeroom with your prize haul.  Minho gets dressed again, though he doesn’t button up his jacket.  He takes a second to catch his breath while you restore each alarm so nothing appears out of place.   When you are ready to go, he takes your hand, smiling.  You run hand-in-hand back down the corridor, making a few sharp turns until you find a staff exit.  There is a small drop so Minho jumps down first then holds out his arms for you.  Though you could make the jump easily, you still let yourself fall into his arms.  

He holds you close as he puts you on your feet.  You are riding the high of adrenaline and success, your heart soaring, which might be why you so easily surrender to desire.   You kiss him, sudden and brief but tantalizing.  He blinks back at you with surprise, his face scrunching with that astonished little laugh of his.   

You smile at him.  A line of sweat dots his hairline and you reach up, smoothing some messy strands of purple hair.  The gentle caress changes the whole shape of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing harder.  You feel yourself change too, your heart pounding against his chest when he pulls you close. 

You got greedy with that kiss and greediness has consequences.  You are so distracted with each other that you don’t notice the security guards coming at you from the opposite direction. 

“Hey!” one shouts.  “What are you doing out here?” 

You and Minho look over, then at each other.  There is no time for conversation.  You grab each other’s hands and start running, your bags of stolen goods bouncing on your shoulders. 

“Hey!” the security guard shouts again.  You can hear their heavy footsteps thundering after you, fast despite their muscle and bulk. 

You turn the corner onto a backstreet just in time for the camper van to swing into view.  The door slides open and Changbin jumps out.  You pass each other, dropping hands so Changbin can dart between you.  

Panting, you and Minho watch as Changbin effortlessly takes down the guards. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” you say, giggling.

Minho laughs, nodding.  “I agree,” he says. 

Minho takes the steering wheel so you can apologize to your baby for abandoning her.  Changbin jumps back in the van and the three of you drive away with another successful haul. 

Later, back at the penthouse, Minho takes the longest shower in an effort to scrub the purple out of his hair.  You are in your bedroom when he finally emerges.  You can hear him and Changbin talking in the living room.  By the sounds of it, the purple is still threaded in his dark brown hair, likely to last a few more days.  You smile to yourself, listening to their playful back-and-forth as Changbin teases him and Minho snarkily retaliates. 

It is tradition after a successful job to have a few drinks and relax.  Contacting your fence and taking care of business can wait until tomorrow. 

You can hear the usual music playing through the speakers, can hear the clink of bottles and glasses, can hear Changbin and Minho laughing and talking. 

You look at your reflection in the mirror.  Though you seldom have occasion to wear pretty luxuries, you have enough money at your disposal to treat yourself.   You have been changing in and out of different lingerie sets since you got home.  You think this one might be just right: a silky black set worn under a lacy black dress that falls to your thighs.  It is suggestive but arguably casual.  You could just be wearing it as pyjamas, right?  Sure.  Sure.  Totally normal pyjamas for a totally normal night.

The best con is one that is close to the truth, Minho had said.  Then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and you begged him to fuck you with Changbin’s help.  Even you, who is terrible at reading and understanding people, know what truth was in that charade. 

You take a deep breath and march to your bedroom door with determination.  You throw it open so hard that it smashes into the wall, startling the boys in the other room.  You ignore the crash and scurry into sight, avoiding eye contact.

“Hello,” you say.

There is a moment of prolonged silence then Changbin says, “Hi.”

You look up.  They are both staring at you, both wide-eyed, both in sweatpants and t-shirts with their hair undone and fluffy.  They look very casual and very surprised.  Minho is clutching a beer bottle and Changbin is holding a bowl of popcorn.  Both of them are frozen.

You smile a very awkward smile.

“Hello,” you say again.  “I am… I am… dressed.  For bed.  My bed.  For being in my bed, like this, as I am dressed right now.  I am going to that bed, now, like this.  You can… join me.  If you want.  If you don’t want, then, okay.  Hello.  And.  Goodbye.  Bye.” 

You run back to your bedroom and slam the door closed. 

Other than the soft music still swirling in the air, the penthouse is quiet.  You cannot hear the boys, not a comment, not a sound, not a breath.

Then you hear the popcorn bowl hit the ground and a bottle smash.  They shove and yell at each other as they stumble on the way to your bedroom.  You are standing awkwardly in the middle of your room, hands folded in front of you, waiting as they crash into your bedroom door and curse at each other. 

Changbin then very casually opens the door and they calmly walk inside. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi,” Changbin replies. 

You wish thoughts could be hacked like a computer.  You cannot think of what to say or do next.  You just stare at them and they stare back, although their gazes are considerably less nervous.  Their stares are thirsty, drinking you in, looking from top to bottom and back again. 

“Turn around,” Minho says, his gaze low. 

You meet Changbin’s eye before obliging, slowly turning.

“Okay,” Minho says after a long moment, giving your heart plenty of time to go crazy in your chest.  “Thank you.” 

You turn back around, just as embarrassed as earlier but not angry at all.  You cross your arms over your chest, flicking your gaze between them. 

Minho reaches out and lightly punches Changbin on the arm.  Changbin looks at him and Minho gives him a look, one you cannot decipher.  You continue to stare at them. 

Changbin nods at Minho then looks at you.  He holds out his hand. 

“Breathe, baby,” he says.  “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

You laugh but nod, taking his hand.  He wastes no time pulling you close, guiding your hand to his heart as Minho did earlier.  He holds your hand there and waits until you make eye contact so he can wink at you. 

“I know I am the best looking man you have ever seen in your life,” he says, making you laugh again, “but I’m me.  You trust us?”

You look at him then at Minho.  His dark hair is still tinted purple, his bare face open and soft as he meets your eye.  You smile and look back at Changbin, nodding. 

“Always,” you say. 

“Good,” Changbin says. 

He cups your face and you lean towards him, anticipating a kiss, but he gently turns your face aside.  You don’t even have time to be confused before Minho is kissing you.  He swiftly draws all those sweet sounds out of you, pulling you towards him.  Changbin steps behind you, holding your hips and kissing his way up your neck to your ear. 

“Baby,” Changbin says while Minho slows his kiss to something gentle but heated, his tongue swiping at yours.  “Listen to my voice, okay?” 

You nod, light-headed but eager. 

“Good,” Changbin says.  “Come sit in my lap.  Over here.” 

Changbin is strong enough to haul you around.  You barely have to move, letting yourself go soft in his arms.  He sits on the edge of the bed and puts you in his lap, spreading your legs over his thighs.   You stare up at Minho, out of breath, your thighs twitching to close for pressure.  Changbin slides a hand down, stroking your inner thigh and making you jump, his other hand tugging down your dress and immediately going for your breast. 

Minho sweeps a hand through his hair, taking a breath before stepping up to you. 

“Still want your mouth on him, baby?”  Changbin asks, reminding you of all the things you whispered in that heated moment.  

You nod, whimpering when Changbin slides his hands into your panties and touches you directly.  He circles and circles the most sensitive cluster of nerves, grunting and pressing his lips to your neck. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” Changbin says.  He slips his hand out of your panties and abruptly grabs Minho by the hand, tugging him closer.   Minho brings that hand to his mouth, licking your wetness off Changbin’s fingertips.  “Touch him baby,” Changbin says.  “You see how hard he is for you?”

You can see.  You can feel Changbin too, hard under you.  Their sweatpants do little to disguise it. 

You do not hesitate obeying, tugging on the waistband of Minho’s sweats.  Everything feels so dreamy and good, surrounded by touch.  It all seems to happen quickly; suddenly Changbin’s hand is in your panties, Minho’s dick is in your mouth, and Minho’s hands are tugging the straps of your dress down.   This ends with you drooling messily all over the end of his dick, sucking on the head and murmuring nonsense while Changbin makes you come on his fingers.  Then Minho kneels in front of you both, your legs end up over his shoulders, and you find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm on his mouth. 

You dress ends up somewhere, the panties too.  The bra is barely on, the straps hanging down your arms.  Changbin finally kisses you when you are on your back in the middle of the bed.  He lays between your open legs, his fingers filling you up as you continue to gush all over his hand.  You grab him, squeezing his biceps as he effortlessly moves that strong hand between your legs.  Minho climbs up too, his shirt somewhere across the room.  He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, pinning them into the pillows before ducking down to kiss you.   You come for a third time before either of them even fucks you. 

Then they do.  Minho first, with you under him, listening to every direction Changbin murmurs in your ear.  You lift your legs around his waist when Changbin says, then touch yourself when Changbin asks, and shudder when Minho comes inside you like you earlier begged. 

Then Minho is behind you, holding you, touching you, protective and familiar while Changbin fucks you.  Changbin has a surprisingly filthy mouth, continuing to tell you how good you feel and how good you look.  Minho is quiet but fully entranced by you, his hands constantly wandering.  He slides one hand down and rubs you off while Changbin fucks you.  Then he leans over your shoulder and kisses Changbin on the mouth, making Changbin finish too.  

The music is still playing in the next room.   The three of you lay there in various states of undress, you in the middle, sweaty and messy, the boys panting and gently stroking your arms and thighs. 

“I love you guys,” you say.  It is incredibly cliché to make a love confession after several mind-blowing orgasms, but you don’t care.   You don’t need to play games or tell lies or be good at socializing, not with your boys.   You can just be your nerdy self, confessing your feelings even while drifting into sleep. 

You smile when you feel Minho kissing your cheek, Changbin giggling on your other side. 

“It will have to be big,” Changbin says.  “The biggest.”

“Hmm?” you ask, looking at him strangely. 

“The diamond we steal to put on your finger,” Changbin says, holding up your hand and circling your ring finger.  You laugh and try to pull your hand back but Minho catches it, nodding in accord. 

“I agree,” Minho says.  He kisses your temple.  “I know how criminals work,” he adds.  “You’re not getting stolen away from us.” 

He and Changbin exchange an affectionate glance over you, nodding at each other, then they are each kissing a side of your face as you squirm and laugh.  You swipe at Minho’s purple hair and kiss Changbin’s cheek, then nestle into their arms as they wrap around you, protective as always. 

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee minho smut #seo changbin smut #lee minho x reader #seo changbin x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader

[itsmechini]

What if

the slow burn is building up to the most anti-climactic identity reveal? Loid and Yor start to realize they have real and deep feelings for each other but feel genuinely bad that they're deceiving the other. Loid might ask Handler to end Operation Strix as he's compromised and Yor might ask the Shopkeeper if she can stay with her family for real and not just for cover. I can see Handler telling Twilight that he needs to get rid of his emotions because the mission is too important to end now. The Shopkeeper might tell Yor to either leave her family or quit being an assassin. Since they both care and respect each other deeply, they could decide that their partner deserves the truth even if it's not the entire truth. On a dinner date, they stop by a park and sit somewhere to talk. One of them starts to ask the other a hypothetical question: "What if I'm not who I said I am? Would you still accept me?"

I'd love an identity reveal that's deliberate and consciously made from their own will as an expression of respect and care for their family. It would show their genuine desire to keep and protect the love and peace of their home.

#and hopefully the answer is yes #because they both want it to be yes #spy x family #twiyor #sxf #loid forger #yor forger

[b0tster]

As a "not contract bound" dev who works on a project that you are (I assume) completely in control of, how do you choose the release date and why'd you choose one before finishing the project? Asked not in a "why'd you do that to yourself" way but in a "I wanna understand what's the logical process behind it, maybe it is smart to do it and I wanna know why".

I thought that it'd be logical to first have a finished thing and then say that it'll be released at "date_name_wgenever", instead of setting a certain date and then crunching yourself to fit it. But maybe it helps you somehow to not overwork yourself on the project thinking that if you have all the time in the world, why not add a thing or two, which results in project taking forever to be marked complete, or maybe you just have a pet birthday at that date and wanna make it symbolical lol, idk.

let me be clear here

i am not crunching on bbkart, or any of my projects for that matter

---

now, with that out of the way, time to talk about time frames and productivity. our labor doesnt operate on a linear scale. spending a decade on a game compared to a year will not mean that that game will be 10 times bigger. humans just dont work like that.

something ive picked up over the years is that productivity is like a gas: it will expand to fit the box its put in.

if u give urself infinite time, the gas will just dissipate. but of course if u squeeze it into a release thats too tight, u get an explosion (crunch).

now, im more of a 'find the fun' kinda developer. i make my tools and mechanics based on a loose concept and then decide what the game will be after once i have everything in front of me. in that initial period i do not set a release date, its impossible to predict how a games dev cycle will play out, so i dont bother and just focus on finding whats fun.

once the final game actually starts to take shape, i am capable of making an informed decision on how much labor is needed to finish, and i set an internal date that i do not make public. once im a few months out from that date, i will make an adjustment if neccesary (both bbpsx and kart had their internal date pushed back by a month) and then announce it. that sets it in stone and I have a runway to release.

mark darrah (bioware) talks about something he calls the 'hockey stick', which is the idea that once u get to a certain point, completion urgency kicks in and u get the drive to make the decisions neccesary to finish the game. cut this, reroute focus to that, crunch on this (dont do that last one, ever, but its important to bring up where crunch manifests. some advice: you either cut or you crunch. choose cut).

darrah talks about how to trigger completion urgency (one example is making a demo, be it publically released or exclusive to an event) and the fact of the matter is that a deadline will do it. of course, if completion urgency kicks in too close to the deadline, you get crunch, but if it kicks in earlier u will get things done in a way that doesnt leave permanent damage on your body and mind.

i know this is a very long winded answer, but i hope i was thorough enough to explain the benefits of setting a deadline and how that doesnt always have to end in crunch, like the question implied.

#lilith answers #bloodborne kart #completion urgency