#Modest Media Review

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.

The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.

The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed. 

The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.

As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.

By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.

He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.

You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”

His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.

“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”

It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”

He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.

“And the shop owner?”

“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.

“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”

He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.

“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”

“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”

“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”

“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”

You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.

“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.

He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.

You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.

“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge. 

He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”

“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”

“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”

“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”

You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”

“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”

“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”

He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”

Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.

“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.

“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”

“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”

“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.

“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.

“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.

“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”

“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”

“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.

“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”

“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.

You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.

“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”

“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”

“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.

Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.”

He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.

🪡

Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.

That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.

“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.

“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”

You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.

“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.

“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”

“For me?” You echo.

“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”

“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”

He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.

You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.

You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”

“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”

“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.

You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.

You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.

You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.

“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.

“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.

As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.

You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”

“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”

“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”

“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”

“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage. 

You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.

You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.

#sherlock holmes #enola holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #unraveled

[dostoyevsky-official]

The use of the internet to obtain information is an increasingly common part of hiring processes. This often takes the form of ‘cybervetting’, which Berger and Zickar (2016) describe as ‘performing supplemental background checks in prescreening and selection by ‘Googling’ job applicants and reviewing their profiles on Social Network Sites like Facebook’ (p. 43). Survey results from the Society for Human Resource Management (2016) show that 43% of organizations in the US engage in some form of cybervetting, though other surveys suggest that the figure may be as high as 70% (CareerBuilder, 2018). According to SHRM (2016), 36% of organizations claim to have disqualified an applicant because of the information they found online. There are few laws to restrict cybervetting [...]

First, many employers use cybervetting as a form of risk management, a way of ‘reducing uncertainty’ about job candidates. For instance, they look for evidence of problematic behaviors and report eliminating job candidates based on online content revealing provocative behavior, substance abuse and expletive language. Second, employers use online content to infer the extent to which candidates fit well with organizational goals and ‘culture’. They look for evidence of ‘professionalism’ online in the form of broad interests, creativity, good communication skills and high status network connections. Content deemed ‘unprofessional’ negatively affects applicant ratings, as well as hiring and salary recommendations.

Cybervetting practitioners—usually HR personnel or other hiring agents—often take its purported organizational benefits at face value and interpret online content as accurately reflecting mental ability and personality. In actuality, correlations between online content and personality scoring are modest and personality assessments of online content offer little predictive value for subsequent job performance and turnover.

[...] About 70% of the [interviewed] HR professionals were engaged in some form of online screening. They looked at a variety of online sources, including resumes on job boards, social media profiles on sites like Instagram and Facebook, Twitter feeds and even Craigslist posts.  

[...] Risk management is pursued through the search for two types of signals: ‘red flags’, which indicate a potentially risky employee, and ‘professionalism’, an indicator of positive qualities and low risk. Red flags include signs of immaturity, lewdness, criminality or dishonesty; they generate uncertainty about a candidate’s character or judgment. [...] Another ‘red flag’ was online blog and status posts where candidates ‘bad-mouthed’ their employers. 

[...] These assessments are highly subjective and emotionally charged, as Alicia, an accounting firm recruiter, recounted:

Alicia: Honestly, the thing that scares me away more than anything is just somebody who looks mean. If you have a mean photo, because I'm kind of a softie, I don't like that. It doesn't make me feel good. I won't not send [the job candidate] on to the hiring manager because of that, but it will linger with me.

Steve McDonald, Amanda K Damarin, Hannah McQueen, Scott T Grether, "The hunt for red flags: cybervetting as morally performative practice"

#abridged to remove in-text citations #open access article - it is horrifying #i have always hated HR

[ayeforscotland]

Welcome!

Hello, I'm AyeforScotland and I've been here for too long. AyeforScotland started off as a Scottish politics blog campaigning for Scottish independence but has since evolved into whatever the hell this is. The fight for Scottish independence continues - I love answering asks about it. And naturally I also discuss wider UK and International politics as well.

Politics FAQ

However, it can't all be doom and gloom - and I suppose I'm kinda 'creative' too so AyeforScotland naturally grew arms and legs and I'll list all the other stuff I do down below👇👇👇

As modest as I try to be, I'm particular proud of the community surrounding this blog and in my discord (YOU SHOULD JOIN). These are people like you who are reading this now who have educated me on a variety of topics over the past decade - and I'm still learning from them daily. I've also ran some amazing 24 hour hour charity streams for a range of charities across Scotland and the UK. So far those charities are the TIE Campaign, The Equality Network, Endometriosis UK, Galop, War Child & Cats Protection. I also co-host @theayesphere podcast every week with the wonderful @thebibliosphere. We chat about everything from politics to entertainment media, and do deep dives on games, TV and films!

Commissions

I regularly get messages asking to read, review and advise on Scottish dialogue as well as lend my voice to various projects. Commissions are open on Ko-Fi for this type of work. Just get in touch with your project and we'll get sorted.

Click here for all links

Discord - The home of the community - Filled with amazing people

Twitch - I play a variety of games on Twitch, I enjoy everything but like to focus on narrative, indie experiences. I also run community interaction games which are always a great laugh. Ko-Fi - My Ko-fi is for people who would like to support me in all the various bits and pieces I do to inform and entertain. It is hugely appreciated and often straight-up reinvested into providing more for you all. YouTube - I have a YouTube Channel I try to make content for when I can. I want to do more but time has been against me recently but there's some video essays I'm very proud of. There's also a separate AyeforScotlandVODs channel for my Twitch streams.

TikTok - Tends to be me ranting about politics or funny Twitch Highlights Twitter - The dying platform - Tumblr is far superior but you can support me as a creator there if you like. There's a few other links but I don't want this post to take forever. If you need anything or have any questions, my asks and DMs are open. Yours for Scotland, Aye

#AyeforScotland

[sinswithpleasure]

For All To See (ft. LOONA's Yves)

—---------

Happy New Year, everybody!

Enjoy this porn / brain rot filled mess!

Tags: 

Squirting, 

Pissing, 

Exhibitionism, 

Golden Showers, 

Piss Drinking, 

Public Sex, 

General Degeneracy / Debauchery.

—---------

Everyone has kinks they don't want people to know about. Some people want it hidden out of shame. Some hide it out of fear. Maybe they have a reputation to maintain.

One such person is Ha Sooyoung, aged 25. 

By day, she's known as Yves, a famous dance instructor with a semi-decent following on quite a few social media platforms for her impeccable dancing. Sooyoung's passion for dancing knows no bounds, and it shows in all the dance content she makes on YouTube and TikTok. On most nights, she's still just the regular Ha Sooyoung—she lounges about at home gaming, watching Netflix, or reviewing dance videos for YouTube. However, the things that happen on the few nights where she's not home doing the usual…

—-------

Sooyoung's watch reads 9pm, and she gets up from her couch. After a stretch to loosen up her muscles, she switches off her TV and tugs her hoodie over her head, the cloth sliding off her body. She holds the garment in one hand, her other one busy unclipping her bra. In her room, she pulls her shorts and panties off together, leaving her naked.

It doesn't take long for Sooyoung to have her clothes folded neatly in a pile on her bed. She stands in front of her wardrobe, a white sports bra and similarly white curve-cut FBT shorts in hand. 

'What else do I want to wear…?'

Her eyes fall on the white tee she typically wears to bed, translucent from too many washes. She'd usually never wear it out, but on a night like tonight…

'It'd be modest enough, but people could see I'm naked underneath if they looked hard enough…'

With such tantalizing chances, Sooyoung puts it on and admires herself in the mirror. 

'God, I'm so naughty…'

That's right, the famous dancer Yves Ha Sooyoung is a huge exhibitionist. One night a week, she goes for her night run, partially to keep herself fit, and partially to indulge in her sinful desires. Of course, she'd never want to be caught, but oh, the thrill…

That thought drives Sooyoung to blush, her legs squeezing together in arousal. Her nipples tent the cloth of her shirt, and Sooyoung bites her lip, imagining someone chancing upon her dressed like this on the way down to her car. 

A few steps takes Sooyoung to the door. A mask covers her face—she can't risk her career and reputation while she indulges in her dirtiest fantasies, after all. She peers left and right down the hallway—both sides empty—and she steps out. The cool breeze down the hallway feels refreshing against her body, warmed with arousal, but with the cool air brushing against Sooyoung's hard clit, she can't help but softly moan at the pleasure it brings.

The ride down to the ground floor is quiet—save for the moans Sooyoung lets out as she masturbates under the watchful eye of the CCTV camera. She knows no one checks those unless something serious happens, and nothing usually does. The guards are too busy sleeping on the job all the time, and she needs the relief right now. Sooyoung's fingers slide deep within her pussy, the soft curl of her middle and ring fingers stimulating the most pleasurable of spots deep within her dripping cunt. Her other hand tweaks her nipple over the thin cloth, and she can't help but tremble in excitement and fear at the possibility of someone catching her if the lift stops. She'd love for them to watch her cum…

Alas, this short self-love session is interrupted by the lift doors opening on the ground floor. To Sooyoung's bittersweet relief, no one is around to catch her. She withdraws her slick fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips as she slides out from within herself, and she tugs the mask off her face to lick her own juices off her fingers. As expected, the guard is dead asleep, as always. Typically, Sooyoung would be annoyed at the lapse of physical security borne out of irresponsibility, but this time, it's a huge blessing for her.

The breeze is even cooler on the first floor, and Sooyoung's nipples are hard as diamonds against the thin cloth. Sometimes, the force of the winds even raise the hem of the T-shirt up, which exposes Sooyoung's body to anyone lucky enough to catch a glimpse. The girl in question loves it—more eyes on her means more people she can exhibit herself for.

Sooyoung reaches her car in no time. Her first action once she gets into her car is to divest herself of the shirt—she's feeling particularly kinky tonight, and what better than to drive to her favorite park in the nude for any driver to see? With a click, the stick shift lands on D, and Sooyoung begins to pull out of the lot. As her car turns to join up with the other traffic on the main road, she can't resist staring at the other cars driving past her. Every streetlight she passes illuminates the interior of her car for a short while, and she knows anyone can see her nude form in those moments. It is this exact knowledge that has her biting her lips, wishing she could squeeze her legs shut to alleviate some of the sexual frustration she has. No one would know it was the famous dancer Ha Sooyoung either, with her mask on…

Sooyoung decides to risk it—she rubs her dripping pussy with her fingers as she drives. At the stop lights, she can't help but rub herself harder—she knows some of the people crossing the road are able to see her, with the streetlights above shining right into her car. More and more slick drips from Sooyoung's sex with every brush of her fingers across her clit, the towel beneath her soaking every droplet of her arousal. Sooyoung knows from experience how wet she can get by exhibiting herself, and without this towel, she'd have so much slick to clean up. 

Finally, the entrance to the park off the main road towards the park draws closer and closer. Sooyoung turns to the right and drives her car to the last parking space all the way at the back of the parking lot. While she usually wouldn't entertain such a dimly lit and potentially insecure parking space, right now, it fits every criterion for her to carry out her next few planned actions. There are only a few cars parked, all of them far apart from each other, and their owners don't appear to be present as per Sooyoung's cursory glance during her drive in. Without any attention given to proper parking, Sooyoung carelessly swerves her car into the final lot.

From there, Sooyoung's next few actions are simple. Under the cover of the foliage above and the lack of illumination, Sooyoung throws the door open and lunges out of her car, then slams the door shut. Never mind that the engine is still running—if Sooyoung doesn't fucking cum right now, she thinks she might die. Her back crashes against the metal frame of the car—ow!—but that doesn't matter. The warmth emanating from beneath the car flows around Sooyoung's spread legs as she widens her legs for support. Her right middle and ring fingers plunge deep into her dripping, needy cunt with a loud wet squelch, paired with a loud moan of relief and pleasure. Her free hand immediately reaches for her breasts, and without a care in the world, Sooyoung fucks herself right there in the carpark, anyone watching be damned! Every curl of fingers against wet flesh draws loud, lewd moans out of Sooyoung. With how much teasing she's put herself through, she's beyond even attempting to mask her need to cum. Furthermore, no one's around anyway—she can afford to let the world know how fucking good it feels to fuck herself for anyone to watch!

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

Sooyoung doesn't bother controlling herself. She's so damned fucking close anyway, so if anyone catches her, she'll just have to cum harder for them to watch.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sooyoung catches a car turning into the carpark…

Car. Driver. Light rays flash across her naked body—

Sooyoung's shrill scream breaks the peace of the night air, just as her orgasm tears through her body. Her pussy explodes—a straight gush of squirt rains all over the tarmac as her hips buck hard, knees buckling beneath her. She manages to grab onto the roof of her car to support herself, but the gush of squirt never ends—Sooyoung expels her earlier pent-up sexual frustration, now in the form of pure sexual pleasure, all over the tarmac of the parking lots under the night sky. She rubs her clit furiously, the hiss from the violent streams of cum flowing along her labia almost deafening. Sooyoung doesn't care that her squirt is drenching her legs with every flick of her fingers across her clit—she just needs more, more, more, more!

All good things must come to an end—even with the prolonged pleasure that Sooyoung still tries to keep going, her orgasm does end up subsiding as her squirt ends, the final few droplets running down her thighs. Sooyoung pants against the mask, and her body trembles under the cool air of the night. The exertion of having the strongest orgasm she could've enjoyed is evident in the way sweat drips down her body—down her forehead and cheeks, along her neck, between the valley of her breasts, and down her ripped core and beyond. Her long, straight hair sticks to her skin, and Sooyoung wonders if she should take a few selfies right now—

Wait—where's that car—?!

Sooyoung's head snaps around to look for the car from earlier. One look, and she catches the same car parked all the way on the other end from where she is, in the other dark corner of this car park. There's no one there—it seems as if the owner left without noticing…

Sooyoung breathes a sigh of relief as she tugs off her mask, finally letting herself enjoy the cool night air across her face. She opens the car door and grabs her phone, throwing her mask onto the seat, then she wanders over right under a streetlight. With the bright lighting and her camera, she begins to style her messy hair in preparation for her impromptu nude photoshoot.

Strike a few poses—a peace sign over her left eye, a half-heart on her cheek just like her outros for her dance videos, her signature first-love grin, Sooyoung captures more and more of her little nighttime escapade into memory. These nude photoshoots are Sooyoung's favorite parts of these nights—she loves getting off on them when she's home.

'Fuck, I really need to pee right now.'

Sooyoung bites her lip as she looks around. Once again, there still is no one present near her, and she releases a shaky breath of anticipation as she switches her camera to video mode. She raises the phone up and hits record, flashing a bright grin for the camera with a peace sign before she puffs her cheeks…

"Oh, fuck, yessss…"

A warm trickle flows down Sooyoung's skin before a clear stream erupts from between her meaty thighs. Slowly, a puddle forms between her spread legs as Sooyoung empties her bladder, the unblinking eye of the camera recording every second of her relieving herself. Sooyoung shudders in pleasure—the thrill of urinating naked while recording herself, visible for everyone to see, keeps Sooyoung's arousal high. The strong gush of piss splatters all over the ground, the loud hiss of her stream against her labia, and the sound of the soft night breeze around her body is all picked up by the microphone, and when her stream softly tapers off into droplets left, Sooyoung deigns the camera another first-love grin before cutting off the recording. 

With her desires temporarily sated, Sooyoung finally sets out for her original plans for the night. The screen in her car reads 9:45pm, and she reaches within to turn the engine off before finally putting on her sports bra and FBT shorts. She ties her hair up into a messy ponytail and does a cursory check of her outfit after. 

'Oh, the shorts…'

Sooyoung's sweat from earlier hadn't dried off, and with her shorts being white, it was now semi-translucent. With more physical activity, the sweat would definitely soak through—her shorts would be transparent. 

'Ehe, I'd love that…'

The thought of essentially being bottomless during her run causes a streak of warmth in her tummy. When paired with the bright sports bra, she knows she'd definitely get eyes on her easily, with her color choice contrasting with the darkness around her. If anything, Sooyoung gets even fucking hornier at the thought, and she's already ruining her shorts thinking about it. 

With a few stretches to warm up her body, Sooyoung begins her run for the night.

—--------

The cold night air does wonders for Sooyoung. The run is enjoyable—Sooyoung loves running and keeping herself fit, but what keeps her on edge is how wet she is. Her shorts are soaked through now from a mixture of both sweat and slick. There aren't many people around still, only a few runners and cyclists, none of which seem to really notice her situation. Emboldened by this, Sooyoung begins to entertain her dirtier fantasies.

'I might as well take this off…'

Sooyoung doesn't hesitate any more. She runs to the side of the path and pulls down on her FBT shorts. The garment falls to her ankles, and she steps out of it. With her ass and pussy exposed fully to the night air once again, Sooyoung resumes her run further deeper into the park. 

Another ten minutes goes by with no one coming in the opposite direction. Sooyoung can feel her slick running down her thighs, and the familiar desperation to get herself off begins to curl around Sooyoung's mind. Tonight is one of Sooyoung's more active nights, and her libido is definitely on the higher side. When the running trail forks into two, one brightly lit, the other not so much, Sooyoung takes herself down the dimly lit path in search for a quiet place hidden away from the more public areas. Experience tells her she'll reach the pond where she'd usually run by on a normal night, but for tonight, she'd step on the bridge across it, where there's a deck with benches facing the water.

Under the darkness, Sooyoung's lustful thoughts go into overdrive. Without a second thought, she begins to tug on her sports bra, her petite breasts bouncing out of the garment as she pulls it off her sweaty body. Naked again, Sooyoung begins to tease her hard clit as she jogs the final few meters that takes her onto the bridge and to the bench. 

"Oh my God, fuck!"

Sooyoung winces at the cold stone against her skin when she plants herself down on the bench. Her clothing is thrown aside on the bench, and immediately she spreads her legs wide open, her fingers rubbing along her slick folds and over her clit, now out of its hood. Her other hand kneads her petite breasts, paying special attention to her taut nipples. The combined pleasure of her actions draws loud moans out of her as she throws her head back against the backrest. Sooyoung doesn't waste time—two fingers plunge deep in her dripping cunt, gliding along her slick walls and ending in a curl against her G-spot. The wet sounds of Sooyoung fucking herself mixes with her lewd moans.

"Oh, fuck, just like that, fuck, so good!"

In Sooyoung's pleasure-addled mind, she briefly recalls this spot of the park being used for some form of free concert or something a few months back. Right now, her brain morphs that memory into fantasy—she's now on stage, naked, spread, exhibiting her most intimate moments for a large crowd to see. She imagines all of the crowd masturbating with her, to her, the blatant display of eroticism multiplying her lust tenfold. The thought of so many faceless, nameless individuals, all of their eyes on her "performance" for them has her pushing her third finger into her pussy. 

"Fuck, it feels so good, I feel so good! Watch me, watch me fuck my needy pussy, watch me fuck myself!"

Sooyoung's words go out to the masses, and yet at the same time, to no one but herself. Reality blends with fantasy—she can hear and feel the caress of the night breeze across her body, burning with lust, but at the same time, she can see the crowd, hear them pleasuring themselves to her. The pleasure of this session clouds her mind, the tendrils snaking around her consciousness, drawing her deeper and deeper into her fantasy. The roar of the crowd begins to rise in volume, just as her orgasm begins to build…

'Come on, Sooyoung, add that last finger…'

Sooyoung obliges to her inner devil's instruction. She stretches her pussy with four fingers, her slick drenching her palm with every stroke. Her forearm burns with how hard and fast she fucks herself, but she's unable to stop—not when she has an audience. It doesn't matter that the audience is imaginary—she's too far gone to even register that. 

'God, I wish I had a cock fucking me right now…'

This thought draws a loud, broken moan out of Sooyoung's throat. Her fantasy morphs once more—this time, she has a man on top of her, his cock fucking deep into her cunt. She doesn't even bother making up an identity—he's nameless and faceless, just like the crowd, with his chiseled body and strong arms wrapped around her body as he fucks her with his thick, warm, hard cock over and over and over. Her moans get even louder, hands even rougher. Sooyoung fucks herself just as hard as she imagines the man would fuck her, and the crowd cheers in approval at the "live" sex show.

"Fuck, faster, faster, just like that, just like that—!"

Sooyoung's imaginary partner obliges, and she bucks her hips in response to the surges of pleasure through her veins that she draws from her hand. The pure lust coursing through her veins all comes to a head as the tension builds and builds—she doesn't even feel the soreness of her forearm anymore!

"Oh my God, oh my God, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fucking squirt, watch me squirt, watch me squirt all over!"

The peace of the night is torn with Sooyoung's shrill scream, akin to a blade through cloth. At the same time, mixed in with the scream is the sound of Sooyoung's pussy gushing. Violent jets of squirt cover everything in front of her as her body spasms uncontrollably, writhing, convulsing, and seizing, all while her eyes roll back in her head, the orgasm consuming every bit of her rational mind. Sooyoung swears she can hear the roar of the crowd as she achieves orgasm, all while squirt splatters all over the wooden floors of the observation deck. Sooyoung's second violent jet of squirt sprays between the railings, just as her third and fourth jets do. Spray after spray of Sooyoung's squirt gushes into the pond, the loud splashes of her cum against the water adding to the sexual mess of sounds in the night. When Sooyoung's orgasm subsides, she lies exhausted, delirious, and giddy. She barely even registers as the warm trickles of pee begin to flow from her cunt, before the stream begins to pick up. All Sooyoung can do is sigh in relief as she relieves herself and empties her bladder all over the observation deck, the puddle flowing between the cracks into the pond below. 

Minutes, maybe even hours pass—Sooyoung doesn't know how long. When she finally catches her breath and the world stops spinning, she picks up her clothing and staggers along the path back to where it rejoins the other running path. A cursory check of her watch shows 10:45pm, and it is at this point that Sooyoung decides to return back to her car to head for home. 

The path back to the car is long—it'd take her a while to go back by walking. Sooyoung decides to run back, but this time, she doesn't bother with clothes any more. She'll run the whole way naked, and if there's anyone that catches her, she doesn't care. They can look all they want!

'And maybe, they can fuck me if they ask…'

That dangerous thought stems from the fantasy from earlier. Sooyoung can't deny it any more—she's craving cock, and while she usually can manage this desire, she's not gotten laid in a long while. That fantasy from earlier drove the devil out of her, and if she gets any opportunity tonight, she just might take it. 

But first, she desperately needs a drink to hydrate herself after all those orgasms. Thank God for the nearby water dispenser.

—--------

Sooyoung begins her run once again, along the brightly lit path back. It doesn't take her long to meet someone coming in the opposite direction—two girls, both of whom almost seem to ignore her. A short while later, she runs into two male cyclists who wolf whistle at her as she passes. She can feel their lustful gazes across her body, and she feels her pussy drip down her thighs at the attention. However, they let her pass by without making any more passes, and Sooyoung sighs in disappointment as the missed opportunity for a public threesome. She needs a good fuck, damn it!

Sadly, there are no more people on the route Sooyoung takes. Soon enough, she nears the car park she left her car at, and she notices the fewer number of cars left. One more check of her watch—11:10 pm—and Sooyoung steps over to her car and opens the trunk to grab a towel and some slippers before retrieving her discarded white shirt from within her car. The run, as well as all of the masturbation, left her sweaty and sticky, and she desperately needs a quick shower to rinse herself. 

Sooyoung locks her car once more and makes her way to the bathroom, now wearing slippers instead of socks and shoes. Her eyes scan the building—whoever designed the bathroom left the showers outside, right in the open, where anyone could see someone showering. Whatever the architects were doing, they definitely didn't think it through, but for Sooyoung, it doesn't matter. All she cares about is which side to choose—male or female? 

It doesn't take long for Sooyoung to make her way to the male toilet. She steps into the bathroom and casually places her white shirt onto the sink counter before grabbing her towel to leave for the shower—

"Ah!"

"Fuck!"

Two cries of surprise echo in the empty bathroom, just as two pairs of eyes meet each other. One rakes across a naked body, the other trembles in fear and dread at the surprise. 

"Y-Yves?!"

Shit. 

"Oh, fuck."

Sooyoung knows it'd only be a matter of time before this happened. Someone would recognize her eventually, but in a male bathroom which she was trespassing in, all while nude…

She lunges for this dude, who backs up in surprise. Her hand claps over his mouth to muffle his yelp, and she begins to speak. 

"You caught me, Mister. That's right, I'm Yves."

She doesn't give him time to reply. Instead, she begins to cut herself a deal. 

"I knew this would happen someday, and I need you to keep this a secret for me. Can you do that? Please say yes, please!"

When the man nods yes, Sooyoung relaxes and releases her hand from his mouth. 

"Y—You're Yves, the dancer!"

"Ah, yeah…" Sooyoung can't find it in her to cover up—he'd seen all of her anyway. "Nice to meet you." She reaches out a hand. 

"I—I'm a big fan, um… It's nice to meet you too, I'm Lee Min Jun."

When their handshake ends, both Sooyoung and Minjun stand awkwardly in front of each other. Minjun's lustful gaze travels across Sooyoung's body once again, and Sooyoung bites her lip as she considers the situation she's in right now. She's naked, in front of a random fan, and he's looking at her so naughtily… 

"Minjun-ah, I need you to keep this a secret for me, okay?"

"Ah—sure, yes, um…"

Sooyoung sees her chance and makes up her mind. 

"If you… If you keep this secret for me, I'll… I'll make sure you get a reward worth your trouble."

Minjun perks up in anticipation and undisguised lust, though he tries not to show it. Sooyoung thanks the heavens that she's not meeting someone who'd choose to have his way with her against her will. 

"You came here to pee, right?"

"Yeah…" Minjun's voice trails off, the realization beginning to dawn in his eyes. 

"Hmm…"

Sooyoung steps up to him and pulls him towards her. She throws her towel aside and pins him to the counter, her naked body pressing intimately against his warm clothed one.

"Have you ever given a girl a golden shower?"

"Wha—?!"

"Have you ever pissed all over a girl?"

"N-No…"

"Do you want to?"

Minjun hesitates, but Sooyoung knows he'll crumble. The temptation is written all over his face.

Sooyoung ups the ante, going all in.

"If you piss all over me right now, I'll let you fuck my pussy and cum in me."

—----

'I'm such a dirty slut,' Sooyoung thinks, as she works Minjun's shorts off his hips. She engages in a fierce liplock with him, their tongues swirling against each other's as she helps him undress. They break the kiss long enough for Minjun to step out of his shorts and pull his shirt off, and Sooyoung throws his clothes aside on the counter before crashing her lips to his in another desperate kiss. Minjun pulls Sooyoung against him, his hard cock pressed between their bodies. Sooyoung giggles when she feels the precum stain her skin. 

"You're really wet huh, Minjun? Can't wait to pee on me?"

"I've thought about it, fuck…"

Sooyoung doesn't waste any more time—she kisses and licks her way down Minjun's body while jerking his cock until she squats between his legs. She looks up at Minjun, her big eyes filled with so much lust. 

"I need to pee too, Minjun…"

"Fuck it, Yves, just pee with me. I wanna watch you pee."

"Okay." Sooyoung flashes him a huge grin, and she gently jerks him off before aiming his hard cock down over her body. 

"You can start peeing, Minjun."

A short moment passes…

"Yessss, fuuuck…"

Minjun's warm, golden piss begins to rain down on her as he releases his control over his bladder. Immediately, she directs his cock to cover every inch of her skin with his pee, specifically across her face and on her breasts. Sooyoung even wraps her lips around Minjun's tip to drink his piss from the source, then she licks his length up and down and takes his balls into her mouth to apply a gentle suction on them, all while Minjun urinates freely all over her. 

Sooyoung's never felt so slutty before—indulging in her exhibitionism and piss kink together with a man she's just met is not something she'd ever thought she would do, and here she is, letting a stranger urinate all over her and even drinking it with the promise to let him fuck her after.

At the same time, as Minjun pisses all over her, Sooyoung begins to relieve herself as well. A strong golden stream gushes out from between her legs as she takes Minjun's golden shower, and both her and Minjun moan in pleasure and relief as they empty their bladders together. The couple's lust for each other reaches an all time high when both of their respective streams end and Sooyoung rises up from between Minjun's legs, lust and seduction written all over her features. 

"Did you like it, Minjun?"

"Fuck yes." Minjun bites his lip, his cock pointing straight. Sooyoung giggles and flips their position—now, she's the one leaning against the sink. She turns around and meets Minjun's gaze in the mirror, their eyes never breaking contact as she bends over and pushes her ass towards him. 

"Come fuck me, Minjun, and cum in this wet, naughty pussy."

Minjun's loud curse is the last sound Sooyoung registers before she releases the sultriest moan of the night. Her voice echoes around the empty bathroom and into the night as Minjun shoves his cock right into her pussy with one stroke. Sooyoung doesn't even get a second to rest before Minjun begins to pound her pussy, his grunts mixing with her loud moans. 

"Oh, oh, fuck, Minjun, ah, ah, ah~!"

"Mmgh, fuck, Yves, fuck, you're so fucking tight—!"

No more words are exchanged after—Minjun's animalistic grunts and Sooyoung's broken moans fill the space. Minjun's hips clap against Sooyoung's ass with every harsh thrust he sends into her pussy, and he reaches around Sooyoung to fondle her chest as they begin to make out.

Minjun's cock stretches out Sooyoung just the way she wants to be. Sooyoung swears Minjun's cock is just like what she dreamed of earlier. Her pussy is a tight fit around his cock—she gets the breath knocked out of her whenever he hilts on every thrust. Slick gushes around the gaps between Minjun's cock and Sooyoung's cunt on every exit, and both her and Minjun let themselves get lost in the pleasure of their impromptu sex session. Their moans get louder, their curses more frequent, and the slaps of flesh against flesh as they fuck harder and harder breaks the peace of the night. 

"Fuck, fuck, you fuck me so good, fuck!"

"That's right, Yves, fuck, I'm gonna fuck you so hard everyone's gonna know we're fucking!"

Sooyoung's pussy clenches around Minjun's cock at his words. Minjun's bold statement plants the idea of people outside listening to them have sex, and it is with this thought that Sooyoung is thrown over the edge—

"FUCK, I'M CUMMING!"

Sooyoung screams as her knees buckle, and a huge gush of squirt sprays Minjun's feet. Minjun holds Sooyoung up by her hips and pistons into her as she cums all over him. Sooyoung's pussy quivers around his cock, and Minjun lasts no more than three thrusts around Sooyoung's orgasming cunt before he slams his hips against her ass. Semen erupts from his thick cock right into Sooyoung's womb, white hot shots of cum painting her insides white with every hard spurt. Minjun fucks Sooyoung through both of their orgasms, and he wraps his arms around her body in a bear hug as both of them come down from their respective highs. Both of them stay cuddled up until Minjun pulls out, his cock beginning to soften. Thick white semen flows out of Sooyoung's used pussy almost immediately, a testament to how much Minjun came while within Sooyoung. 

"Minjun-ah, I'm gonna pee…"

Almost immediately, Sooyoung's urine begins to trickle down her legs. The trickle becomes a stream as Sooyoung empties her bladder again, as she usually would after a round of sex. 

"Yves, I need to pee too."

"On me, again."

With her instructions given, Minjun raises his rapidly rehardening cock with his hand. A second goes by, and he begins to sigh in relief—Minjun proceeds to join Sooyoung in emptying his bladder, but he urinates all over Sooyoung's ass, pussy, and legs. Sooyoung moans as Minjun's warm pee washes over her privates, and she rubs her pussy as she watches him pee all over her again, his urine dripping all over her hand as she indulges in the last bit of debauchery for the night. 

When Minjun's second golden shower slowly tapers to a few drips, Sooyoung turns around to kiss Minjun fully on the lips. None of them care about how dirty they are—they're beyond that—and instead, they enjoy the deep kiss they share. 

"Did you like it?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

Sooyoung giggles, and she lets go of Minjun, though she keeps his hand in hers. 

"Let's shower together."

—-------

Both Minjun and Sooyoung towel themselves off after their brief rinse—Sooyoung with her own towel, Minjun with an extra Sooyoung has.

"Minjun, where's your phone?"

"In the pocket of my pants."

Sooyoung walks over to Minjun's pants and fishes it out. She passes it to Minjun for him to unlock it, and when she gets it back, she punches her number into it and calls herself. 

"What are you doing?"

"Calling myself. I want your number too."

A naughty smile graces her features as she boldly reveals her next thought.

"I wanna do this again with you, Minjun…

"But next time, I really want you to pee inside me…"

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #loona smut #loona yves smut #yves smut #ha sooyoung smut #piss kink

[certifiedgeeker]

“My Collection”

preview

staring — gojo satoru x black! fem reader

contents: office au! , cursing, misogynistic language, n word usage (duh!) , usage of pet names ( ma ) , missionary

authors note: this is just a bit of a test drive for this account to see if anyone will really like what i write lol. i plan on finishing this soon but this is just a preview. this is unedited and isn’t proofread btw to forgive any typos. hope you enjoy, mwah

word count: 1984

the rain tapped against the window harshly of your inner city condo, dark grey clouds gathering in the sky. a deep rumble reverberated through the air though it was drowned out by music playing off your flatscreen in the living room. you stood in the kitchen—shirt off making yourself french toast as the smoke wafted through the place mixing with the already lit leather and embers scented candles. getting your last clean blouse dirty before walking out the house was not on the list when you already had so much on your plate as it is today.

as soon as you got into the office you immediately had multiple responsibilities to handle seeing as you guys are behind. you’d just gotten off vacation and although you had a stand in she was a bit of a lazy worker. It was going to be hectic to say the least and you’d rather look good while doing it.

turning the stove off and plating the french toast with the rest of your breakfast you’d already prepared you began scrolling through your socials while eating. eyes laser focused liking comments and replying to dms. you had a modest social media following. content creating seemed like a perfect side hustle, although it’s not easy it came naturally.

outfit styling, food reviews, vlogs was just some of the content you made. being a senior marketing leader didn’t give you the most free time, but because of it you could fund the expensive perfumes you review and the vacations that you go on like your latest peru trip you made sure to document and upload.

as you scrolled through your notifications you’d seen a name that raised an eyebrow.

“._toru6eyez”

at the looks of the name it seemed to be a coworker of yours, not that you were worried your main page being appropriate enough. in fact quite a few coworkers of yours followed and kept up with your page, just this wasn’t one you had in mind. satoru gojo. although you couldn’t see the strangers face—based off the physique from the thirst traps, the back pictures that showed off his snow white hair, along with the tagged post (that never quite captured his face) from people that were closely affiliated with him it was more than safe to assume it was him.

what was he doing liking your post? it’s not like you had an issue with the white haired man, on the contrary it seemed to be the opposite. gojo although was an energetic funny guy always seen laughing with his friends and jr’s, whenever you came around blue eyes iced you out. it almost seemed purposeful that when you came into the room he quickly found a way to exclude you and if you did manage to keep yourself in the conversation you quickly became the subject of harsh jabs disguised as jokes and dismissive glares.

you were no meek target by any means being able to play the dozen having grown up with two older siblings who had quite the mean streak as well. it’s just this is your work place and you didn’t have time for the childish games. at every turn he poking fun at the way you were always dolled up saying if you’d put half as much effort into your work you’d gotten a higher raise by now and other things in the realm of. you’d brought it up to few of your coworkers who were closer to him to no avail. they’d all said the same thing over and over again.

“he doesn’t dislike you, he just doesn’t know you is all. gojo had a bit of a tough upbringing so bear with him, strangers put him on edge.” seemed to be the general consensus. having a tough childhood doesn’t give you a free pass to be an asshole though. they talked about him as if he was a feral animal and not a grown man.

this earned you guys the reputation of office rivals to which you’d have to somewhat agree to. so why was he stalking through your instagram? was still the lingering question as you’d seen he’d taken back his like when clicking on the post. the sound of your alarm going off interrupted your menstruations though. the next 5 minutes were a whirlwind of you scarfing down the rest of your food, putting on your clothes and heading down the condo elevator before speeding off in your custom skyline nissan gtr.

the drive was a blur—always going blank when behind the wheel before you check back in at the arrival of you destination. upon entry into your office building you were swamped immediately, running here and there doing this, that and the 3rd. it’s like you were the only one on your team who did any fucking work. although you were an accomplished individual your credentials didn’t matter to your predominately male teammates seemingly due to the words of a certain someone.

though you’d complain time and time again much wasn’t done except for a long meeting about team culture that annoyed you more than them. so from then on you learned to cuss them out directly but today there wasn’t much time for that much of the paperwork having a tight deadline. and because you didn’t want to die at the age of 21 due to a heart attack from the stress of yelling at those bums you opted to just do it yourself. though dying hot and young was very appealing.

so here you were ripping and running through the halls in your black coach monogram loafers, a stack of heavy papers from your latest client in hand. when returning to your office you quickly cut a corner too fast to stop from running into someone who had done the same. letting out a small yelp from impact your body tensed bracing itself to fall on the hard polished concrete floors. instead though you were quickly yanked up like a ass bad kid from underneath your armpit stopping your fall albeit hurting from how hard you were yanked.

“woah slow down, fast doesn’t always mean efficient. you of all people should know that.” thrown off from the sudden attack your face instantly pulled the meanest glare it could muster. you pulled your arm out of his grasp ready to fire back before being cut off.

“the paperwork you filled out before vacation is incorrect, you need to redo it so my team can finish our campaign wrap up.” the man added the small packet to your large stack of papers putting it at the very top unspokenly saying his stuff is top priority.

scoffing at his audacity you roll your eyes “you could’ve done this yourself gojo, it isn’t even something I have to sign off on seeing it doesn’t correlate with my program.” exasperation lacing your words as you pushed the papers back into his chest making him sway back.

taking off without another word before he could bombard you with more of his bullshit you headed to your office to bury yourself in the heap of work you had. slumping into your seat time ticked past as you signed this, stamped that, and planned meetings for your team. not noticing how the office grew quiet as your coworkers filed out the building for the day opting to go on a team outing despite the rain. you however continue to work only stopping when your stomach let out a low rumble.

todays lunch was just a chicken wrap with some fruit and bottle of water. you were trying to be healthy, it was so easy to get caught up in eating out every day with this job which wasn’t good for your health or pockets. being the ipad kid you were twitter was opened on your screen keeping yourself entertained with the shenanigans you saw; though your eyes widened when a video of a girl with her legs pushed back to ears being pounded into by the built man above her came up on your feed.

your instant reaction was to shut your phone off incase anyone heard. after a beat of silence you realized you were alone, gazing up to the door of your office you saw it was locked. what was the harm? pressing the power button you cut the device back on to see him giving harsh spanks to her clit as she let out sharp yelps.

he had her pinned down by the back of her thighs keeping her in place as he abused her walls. “don’t run me, take that shit ma.” the tone of his voice making you shift in your seat.

his words began getting to you making arousal pool in the seat of those pretty savage x fenty panties you were wearing. it got you to wondering when was the last time you got fucked good. honestly it’d been months ago, almost every time you’ve had sex in the whirlwind of time you’d been working here was a quickie.

nobody having the time to give it to you the way you like it. the notion making your pussy pulse making you shift uncomfortably in your chair again. it was getting you worked up how you saw her juices splash from her cunt knowing she felt so good imagining you in her place. knowing she was getting that everyday left youfeeling a bit envious. some good dick was longer overdue for you but it’d just have to be pushed to the back burner.

as you took the last bite of your wrap you looked at the still unfinished work on your desk.

a weary sigh slipped past your two toned lips as you bookmarked the video in your twitter to come back to later tonight at home. unbeknownst to you, you’d liked the video allowing your followers to see publicly. now your twitter wasn’t as popular as your instagram or tiktok so it’s not like anyone would know any different especially seeing how many more posts you’d end up liking.

maybe not

^-^

glacier blue eyes scrolled through your twitter, he doesn’t know why either. hate watching he’d chalk it up to. he just wants to see what else cringe shit you’re feeding your followers. how could anyone like the shit you post, it’s all so obvious you’re faking you personality for views.

“i think i’m starting to like the person i’m becoming.” he read your caption aloud with a petulant head shake. you were wearing a pair of brown short shorts and even though you were sitting he could tell they cut across your ass exposing your cheeks along with a white tank. upon closer examination the silhouette of your brown areolas peeked through. this is the shit he meant, the fake positivity thirst trap bullshit.

you were a hoe, and it’s not the fact you’re a hoe that bothers him. gojo satoru lovesss the hoes, it’s just the fact you hadn’t fucked him yet. he’d heard from a team member you and todo were fuck buddies. you and him had quickies often, the man beating your poor pussy sore in the backseat of his challenger numerous times. it got him tight, what the hell did you see in him when gojo is right here with good pipe waiting for you.

as childish as it may be it made him lash out on you. when in group setting seeing the way you’d bat those pretty doe eyes at other men but narrowed them at him pushed a button. he was never really one to easily anger but something about you made him tick in the worst ways possible. damn you and that pretty smile, he’d like to imagine you’d smile up at him after toppin him off. thinking about it made his dick hard. you made his dick hard and that’s a crime he’ll punish you for soon.

#gojo x black reader #satoru x black reader #gojo satoru x black!reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo

[idkversace]

that way • jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem

you and jude were a little more than friends, but you end up separating and you meet some time later with feelings still overflowing from your heart.

1,8k words

⚠️ warnings:

1. a little angst

2. It's my first imagine and English is not my first language, sorry for any grammar mistakes or whatever you feel uncomfortable with imagine.

I'm across the room looking around and thinking how much I wish I was home doing exactly nothing, when my eyes land on a person I thought I'd only see on TV while my brother watches the championship. But no, he's across the room looking at me intently, probably thinking the same thing that he'll never see me again. Jude Bellingham. We were friends but since he went to play for a German team, we don't talk anymore. He's taller than I can remember, better looking than he's been lately, and more muscular too.

He subtly nods his head in acknowledgment as he gazes down my body and for the first time all night I feel really good, grateful that I've put on the mid black v-neck dress that highlights the few curves that show on my body. When he looks up, I stare at him until I'm called by someone very close.

I didn't have the courage to go up to Bellingham and shake hands with the player of the match award during the world cup games, I didn't even have the courage to look in his direction as he sits next to his coach, in a tuxedo that enhances his beauty.

I remain at the bar until the awards start and I remain there until the end of it, as the new hire in the communication area of ​​the English team, recording everything to later do a review to post on the website. After the ceremony people start to circulate and that's when a hand lands on my shoulder and I know exactly who it is.

Jude. He's standing behind me smiling like the last time I was this close to him.

“Jude, oh hi! How are you?”

"Hi, fine fine and you?"

“Well too” – the number 22 scratches the back of his neck as he sits down next to me and orders a drink that I don't quite understand because I'm intoxicated by his perfume.

“What are you doing?” – Jude asks me when he decides to take the conversation more harmoniously.

"Nothing as interesting as you! Congratulations on the award, you deserved it, as did the rest of the team.” I answer looking at him and smiling at him.

“oh, you can't imagine, there were people who deserved more.”

“Always being modest” – I say and right after I order another drink, because if I'm going to stay here and not have that night on my mind I have to drink and I hope the party ends soon.

“Look, y/n I want to apologize for that night.” Jude looks at me and I'm sipping the drink the bartender just brought over.

“No need to worry, Jude. I understood what we had and everything is fine.” - I reply smiling but showing that it bothered me

“I want you to know that not a day went by that I didn't think about you and how I should have warned you, how I shouldn't have let it happen.” - Bellingham speaks

“You had my number, my Instagram, I wasn't incommunicado. But let's not spoil this night! One day we'll talk about it.” - I smile at him, when I see the director of communication coming towards us

“Y/N I hope everything is ok and you are enjoying it.” — Harry says and I smile back.

“Sir. everything is fine! I'm loving it.”

“Jude, Y/N will be our new communicator within the team, she will accompany you to social media.”

The night's winner smiles at me and mutters a "welcome to the team" as he excuses himself and leaves the bar.

I spend the rest of the evening being introduced to the entire team while trying to avoid the glares Jude is throwing my way. Confused more than I walked in knowing that I would clearly find Jude, knowing that night would play back in my mind until I got used to his presence.

As I'm getting ready to leave, I feel a hand on my elbow and I turn to find Jude looking grim.

"I need to talk to you, please!" - He asks me as he takes me to a door and opens it, he gives me a way to enter and looks at me again getting closer.

He leans me against the wall with his 2 arms touching my waist but without fully resting his hands on her.

“I was an idiot, okay? I know I was, I know I continued to be when I left you that morning and during these 4 years. But I was afraid of the new and the feeling I thought I didn't have. But y/n one thing I know today is that I can't enter into a relationship with the team advisor, much less promise you that I'll be here in England when you know I'm playing in Germany, but I like you when you arrive to be pathetic how much i check your instagram to see if you updated or how much i wish all this time people would touch your name so i would know about you” - Jude talks fast almost breathless, looking at him and i see the same boy from 4 years ago, the one who didn't promise anything but for one night was what i always wanted during my life.

~4 years ago~

I was getting ready for a dinner with friends. We were heading towards spring so the weather in London was warmer and more harmonious.

Camile picked me up at home while we went to the restaurant we talked about random things, she was going to college after the next summer and she was excited to start what I always dreamed of, communication, to work in sports or fashion.

Arriving at the restaurant, the group was the same as usual, greeting everyone who is already at the table, I sit down next to Bellingham, our star from Birmingham City. Jude and I have gone out a few times, but nothing more than kissing and cuddling. But today, especially today I shiver every time he leans towards me or when his leg covered in the jeans he's wearing touches my thigh.

Jude finishes eating his meal and places his arm on the back of my chair and leans in to speak in my ear.

“After here, are we going to go out together?” – I nod my head and he returns with his body erect but continues with his arm around me.

Dinner passes with a lot of laughter, conversation, food and desserts, so when it's time everyone starts to say goodbye. Camile asks me if I want a ride and I say I'm going with Jude.

“Where are we going?” I ask Bellingham as I buckle my seat belt.

“I don't have any place in mind, I just wanted to be with you a little longer,” Jude replies and I smile. "Would you be upset if we went to a hotel and I took you home later?"

“No, anywhere I just don't want to go home.” I say back. Jude gives me a questioning look but doesn't ask me anything.

He drives to the hotel, Jude gets a suite, and we go upstairs.

"Why don't we go to your place?" - I ask with him lying in bed and I'm taking off my sneakers.

“I wanted to be alone with you, and at home we would have everything but be alone.”

"And why did you want to be alone with me?"

“To do this”. He pulls me down until I'm sitting on his lap and kisses me. — “I waited all night to be able to kiss you, your kiss seems to be addictive” – Jude tells me and I smile shyly.

We spent most of the night exchanging kisses, caresses and conversations. I tell Jude my plans for this year, he asks me why I don't want to go home, and I tell him about the situation with my dad. We make plans for me to go visit him at the training ground to see him train. He tells me how the team is doing, the expectations.

I reveal all my insecurities to Jude, especially the one about my body, Bellingham makes me comfortable as he tells me I'm beautiful and that anyone who doesn't see it is an idiot.

We kiss and when I realize we are without clothes, while we sweat under the sheet and we repeat all the sex done again and again and again until we fall asleep.

I wake up in the morning to find Jude beside me and I get up thinking he's in the bathroom, but the bathroom is empty. I notice that Jude's clothes and sneakers are gone, but I think he went to have breakfast, I get up, get ready and wait for him to come back, since I'm not much of a breakfast person.

I send a message to Jude, and it is not delivered, I decide to go down to check where he might be, and I go to reception where he tells me that he stopped by earlier, paid and left.

Shock coursed through me and hurt surged through me. I was used, used by someone I opened up to for the first time and who has known me since I was a teenager.

~end of flashback~

Jude still has the same features, only now he has some hair on his face, he's taller because he leans closer so his face is at the same height as me, his eyes looking at me like I'm someone who doesn't know me anymore. And actually I am, because since that day my heart has been hurt, hurt by the whole situation and it has been used, used to think that someone would be interested in me. And when I found out that that day he had taken a plane to Germany because his training with the new team started on Monday. It was there that I broke down and felt abandoned by the only one who had eyes for me.

“Jude, I can't help you. I answer looking at him” — while I squirm to try to get rid of the wall and the encirclement of his arms.

“I needed to tell you this, Y/N. I'm sorry for leaving, I should have replied to the message or rather I should have told you everything about my plans, but I didn't because I was afraid of you being distant at night and I needed to have you in my arms.” - Jude Bellingham tells me while his grip on my waist gets stronger and I do my best not to give in to him and kill the longing that consumed me day and night.

"I really must go, Bellingham!" I say finally managing to get away from him and going to the door.

“Hope to see you soon, y/n,” Jude says from behind me.

"See you soon, Jude!" - I say and leave the room, going to the door and giving my key to the valet to get my car, and I see Jude going to his teammates and giving them a half smile.

I get in my car and count to 10, drive home with my heart heavy with longing for Jude's touch, but at the same time angry with him.

<let me know if you like it, I can bring more!!>

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #england #imagine #bvb #borussia dortmund

[patricia-taxxon]

I got the rateyourmusic cosign & my mom is a goodreads star, so we both enjoy being falsely perceived as famous or notable when we really just have modest followings on social medias that present themselves as review aggregation services.

#cilantromixture

[dustedmagazine]

Marc Masters — High Bias: The Distorted History of the Cassette Tape (University of North Carolina Press)

There’s a popular theory, advanced with varying degrees of seriousness, that the best kind of music is whatever was released when you were about 16. There’s also a fairly well-known Brian Eno quotation about the way we tend to romanticize forms of media just as they fall out of currency, eventually becoming loved even for their shortcomings. One of the biggest strengths of Marc Masters’ High Bias, a new history of the compact cassette (as it was originally known), is that it refuses both the personally biased special pleading of the former and the possibly distorting format nostalgia of the latter. Instead Masters brings together a fascinating technical history of the creation, limits, and virtues of the cassette tape, an overview of some of the areas where the medium has been most richly used and adopted, and a reflection on its continued vitality.

That last aspect, which is reflected on throughout High Bias and forms the focus of the book’s last chapter, is one example of the balance Masters manages to strike. It would be easy to fall into a kind of strenuous insistence on the most optimistic vision of the cassette’s future, to tell us that it could or should regain a level of prominence it hasn’t seen in decades. But to do so would require a… selective choice of data, and would probably fall into a kind of “protesting too much” register for many readers. Masters instead has the confidence and knowledge of the actual current (vital, but subcultural) role of cassette tapes to make the more modest but resonant point that the ‘cassette revival,’ such as it is, is already with us and shows no signs of going away. And he both puts this in its proper, inspiring context and makes a persuasive case for its importance because of the book’s continual emphasis on the democratizing and personalizing aspects of cassette tape as a medium.

The opening chapters, which include relatively brief looks at the context of recording technology prior to and at the time of the cassette’s introduction, set the stage well. Masters doesn’t shy away from acknowledging the social, marketing and profit motives impinging on the development and success of the medium (and the sometimes panicked response of the music industry to it, “home taping is killing music” and all), and points out how those aren’t totally separable from the explosion in personal expression that tapes allow. From there, High Bias branches out, looking at various places and times cassettes have helped or even allowed particular peoples, scenes or genres to be heard and spread in ways other media haven’t managed. From Deadheads to the early days of hiphop, Awesome Tapes From Africa to some of the more extremely personal examples that sometimes overlap with those covered in Michael Tau’s recent Extreme Music (reviewed on Dusted here), this slim volume doesn’t pretend to be exhaustive but does manage to illuminate enough different areas most readers may find themselves surprised by at least one of the many little pockets Masters looks into.

The second-last chapter, “The Tape Makers,” may be where High Bias hits many of its intended audience in an even more personal place. Here the book shifts slightly from people making music onto, or then distributed via, cassette, and instead delves into the personal mixtape. The balance between creation and curation is never that clearcut, of course, and the chapter doesn’t pretend it is. But whereas after the cassette we have burned CDs and playlists, before the team at Philips first brought the compact cassette to the world there was simply no mass-available form that offered the particular form of expression that a mixtape does. As with the rest of High Bias, here Masters uses a blend of interviews, secondary sources and direct experience to convey the unique role and impact of the cassette, both in its historical moment and persisting into the current day.

It’s not that the cassette tape is a “better” medium than vinyl, CD, DAT, or saved or streamed digital files (what would “better” even mean in anything other than a subjective sense?), and it’s not that High Bias, despite its doubly accurate title (both a desired quality in a cassette and an implicit acknowledgment that this a very pro-tapes book), tries to make that claim. But Masters clearly had in his sights a compelling portrait of the strengths of the format, and what makes it different from those other media, and here he convincingly portrays it as a special and worthy one. He’s even set up a, well, mixtape for the book on Bandcamp (linked at the beginning of this review), 12 tracks all sourced from current tape labels he discusses in the book. Notably, you can buy that mix on a cassette.

Ian Mathers

#Marc Masters #High Bias: The Distorted History of the Cassette Tape #University of North Carolina press #Ian Mathers #bookreview #dusted magazine #cassettes #history #technology #DIY #mixtapes #Bandcamp

[mechanical-magician]

BOMB RUSH CYBERFUNK HEADCANONS: RISE EDITION

Headcanon Directory >>

> BRITISH

> She lives out of her hippie van, it's all supped up for living in!

> She's 24 now, but she's been living out of her van on the move since she was 18.

> Rise started her travels in France, and initially was only doing it to just get away from everything back home. Her parents, the authorities, school; she just wanted to leave it all behind and take up being a rudie full time

> A few months in, she started vlogging her lifestyle and actually started to gain a modest following. Slowly over the years, she's become a micro-celebrity in the lifestyle and rudie communities!

> Rise has traveled basically the entirety of Europe at this point, but has always found herself returning to New Amsterdam. She just loves everything about the city!

> She was in an online relationship with the leader of Devil Theory, Osiris, for a few months, before meeting him IRL and dating like that as well. However, she felt it was better for both of their careers if they split off. But also, she internally has found that she's scared of committing to staying in once place. She knows Osiris would never leave his crew, so she knew it was for the best if they went their separate ways.

> That isn't to say that she's not still friends with Devil Theory! While they DO get a little pissed about her doing her stuff on their turf, all she has to do is offer them some cool rocks or something and they'll skitter off like gremlins

> Bel absolutely has a celebrity crush on Rise

> Rise is a social media influencer, but she doesn't see herself as being shallow. She rose to where she is through not only her looks, but also her ability to show off her skills in skating and graffiti. She's an inspiration to all soon-to-be writers/rudies.

> She snorts when she laughs :]

> Rise loves trying all new foods local to where she travels. She likes to find the most obscure, hole in the wall, places and try them. Good reviews from her usually cause a small boom in that place's popularity!

> She's multilingual! English, French, Dutch, and German she's all fluent in! She's working on other languages as well

> She's VERY sensitive to light, and so she wears her shades everywhere for that purpose. They're extra dark to help her out :]

> The police have tried to cancel her

> They failed

> "The bird flu? Yeah... they kind of do that."

> Pansexual!

#bomb rush cyberfunk #bomb rush cyberfunk headcanons #brc #brc rise #bomb rush cyberfunk rise

[atopvisenyashill]

What kind of jobs do you think asoiaf characters would have in the real world?

jon - history podcaster, famous in lefty circles, robb keeps begging him to get a real job so the stans of his haters stop review bombing robb's law practice

dany - political twitch streamer, they have beef bc jon is an anarchist and dany is an ML.

barristan - he's an econimist and a landlord and dany gets dragged constantly for being friends with him and retweeting his shitty medium articles.

grey worm - he has A Real Job as a low level agriculture engineer but he does political commentary in his free time which is why he's friends with dany & barristan.

arya - runs a coffee shop and is everyone's favorite manager because she's super chill and drives them to protests on her days off. has a burner twitter account and ratioed barristan online once.

sansa - a small business owner that has one of those cute little storefronts where four or five small businesses band together to be one shop.

robb - has a law practice doing something Important like immigration help or something. lives in a nice apartment above his practice.

theon - literally just freeloads at robb's apartment.

jeyne westerling - receptionist at robb's practice, the power dynamic IS weird but also kind of sexy. they are both clearly fucking theon as well, ned has no idea this is happening and keeps asking about grandkids even tho jeyne has an IUD.

catelyn - she clerked for a scotus judge and she is NOT modest but she IS modest about the thanksgiving she spent at RBG's house. her instagram is dedicated to promoting sansa's business because she is sooo proud.

jeyne poole - the only non nepo baby in the group who lucked out in befriending two rich girls in the art fair circuit and got a storefront with them.

loras tyrell - think mayor pete but with more personality.

margaery tyrell - the third business owner with sansa & jeyne, but she uses her mother's maiden name so no one associates her with her brother's tacky lib poitics or accueses her of being a nepo baby (she definitely is, but she takes the accussation personal)

renly baratheon - a fed from a family of feds, and the FACE of a pinkwashing campaign

cersei & tyrion - political family but for local politics like the daleys or cuomos or castro brothers (as in joaquin and julian). they fucking hate loras for primarying tywin from the center and winning but also lowkey hate each other because they both want Tywin's seat as like, Lieutenant Governor or some shit.

jaime lanniser - was supposed to be in politics but got ptsd from his time in the military and became a professional hater and freeloader until brienne talked him into getting a degree and helping people instead of just giving donations to charity for tax write offs.

brienne of tarth - i have no idea what she does but she works for a non profit and is solidly middle class as a child.

the martells - they own a local chain grocery store and they have a rivalry with arya but they keep it classy. oberyn posts thirst traps all the time and doran made him put 12 disclaimsers on every social media profile about not speaking for the store but otherwise he does what he wants. yeah man pour milk over your tiddies for charity who gives a fuck.

#asks #a song of ice and fire #modern au #i smoked right before i wrote this #i am so dedicated to jon and dany fucking hating each other bc jon is an anarchist and shit talks stalin CONSTANTLY #and dany is an ML and holodomor denier who thinks hes a cia op

[sketchfanda]

Chestnut Stud across the Multiverse: Warrior Monk review: Pacifica Northwest

At a local tropical resort, a hot young tanned platinum blonde piece of ass stretched and hummed as she walked around the vicinity of the hotel swimming pool. Basking in her owl glory as she could see heads turning from local and tourist alike at the sight of her which only made to give her ego a fine boost. Yes she was sexy and she damn well knows it, naturslly so did they, why wouldn’t they want to look? But this was nothing compared to the good mood she was in and the reason for causing said mood in the first place. Which she keeping nice and snug,safe and sound In her hotel room and it just made her tingly in all the right places as she grinned at spying her friends who she invited to join her on this little vacation trip. A deep sigh of satisfaction escaping her pretty pouty lips as she got their attention and did a little stretching, “Whew,jackie,Wendy…sorry I’m late girls, my roommate went above and beyond today…and let me tell ya..” the young debutant spoke as she parked herself right in the comfy pool chair, her body relaxing as she let out a lusty,relaxed shudder. Almost sexual or orgasmic eben as she continued, her two companions giving her some very deadpan stares. ““I got so fuckin’ LAID!! Wooo damn,ooooh my poor, poor womb..” she purred snd hummed she rubbed said spot around her stomach. The camel toe of her pussy visible thrive her pink thong swimsuit. Licking her lips as she took delight in the looks from Jackie and Wendy, giving them a look as if to say ‘Jelous?’

“Classy pacifica…..” snaked Wendy, the ginger redhead freckled tomboy quite a stunner, with a sensual bidy with muscle tone honed from a freak growth spurt and years of rugged activity and lumberjack work with the tan especiallt to show for it. Jackie lynn Thomas was quite the toned,tanned freckledmtombiy herself bottom heavy with the legs and ass to show it along with a tan from decades of dedication to the craft of surfing and skateboarding. Her hair a wild curly blonde mane with some noticeable blue streak. The pair’s swimsuits Especially did wonders to show off their stunning bodies even if they were modest compared to Pacifica’s own. Their snarky glares at the valley girl as she had her legs positioned in a way as she sat, practically spread and showin off her cameltoe. They swear they could it quivering under that thing of hers as she shamelessly basked in their reactions, her expression radiating smug satisfaction. ““That what You calling your dildo? Because last me and Jackie checked when we rode in here? You came alone besides us and we haven’t seen You take any guy here back to your room…” the redhead quipped as Jackie nodded beside her. Indeed for someone who lived the kind of life she did and the looks she had, she could have her pick of many dude here. Yet here she was not having been seen flirting with any of them. When you were pacifica northwest,emancipated heiress and social media influencer, the dating world was your oyster and a regular all you can eat buffet.

Pacifica simply grinned a catlike minx smile a she licked her lips, having expected Wendy or Jackie to get curious like that. Sensually humming snd purring as she checked her pool bag beside her and reached into it,fishing around to locate something. Finding exactly what she was looking for as she took out her cellphone “Ooh I’m mot talking about a dildo you lovely lady friends of mine. My roomie is much better then that and the next best thing to a boyfriend but then again with his food he is, I might never need a man at all..” the platinum blonde purred sensually as she unlocked her phone and accessed her photo and video gallery.  Biting her lio as she found what she was looking for and accessed it, turning it around to show them the screen as the video began to load and buffer. “Normally I’d say checkout Capsule Cocks’ video review tab but this is the next thing since I have the original…” thst got Jackie and Wendy’s attention even more than Paz already. Capsule Cocks? As in the special Rated R to XXX branch of adult sex toys and items from the one and only Capsule Corp. Social media related to them was ablaze with praise for their products but one common set of words tended to get thrown around here and there. Something called the Warrior Monk? When finally the video began to play as the lair glued their eyes to the screen.

Soon the platinum blonde bombshell appeared on the digital video clewrly using some sort of special camera drone which captured her stunning body in head to toe. Which was highlighted by the bright hot electric pink outfit she wore as she adjusted her violet jacket and gave her long wild styled blonde mane a flip. Blowing a kiss at the camera as she began to speak. “Hello out there all you bored singles and what not who decided to brighten your dull lives by checking out this video. Now when you’re a girl like me with independence and a lot of money but too much free time? Well life doesn’t sommuch gives you lemons but the way to make lemonade out of them..” she spoke as the camera showed what had to be her bedroom in what was some sort of deluxe luxury penthouse. As bent over,the camera getting a fine view of her pink clad juicy bubble butt as it wiggled and swayed. The heiress giving a hum of satisfaction as she took out a simple box and opened it, taking out a simple,single Dyno-cap. Holding it between her thumb and pointer finger as she examined it inquisitively. “In my case I met up with the head honcho of Capsule Corp at some party,can’t remember what it was for or what we talked about exactly. But she personally sent me this a gift and all I got to do is accept a sponsorship deal for Capsule Cocks. That is after I review whatever this is,she was insistent I do this soon as I got this so here we go…”“with that said, she gave a click to the capsule and threw it, the coloured smoke blasting as a cryo-contained appeared, the bombshell debutant humming as she pushed the button to open it. Brow raised as out came a compact 5′1′’ fellow,shorter than her by a few feet and inches, clad in tight boxer Spatz and not impressing her in the slightest. Walking around as she examined him and looked him over from head to toe and found some sort of pamphlet manual inside the container which she began to west out loud.

“Congratulations on your acquisition of our most popular product. The Warrior Monk is,in our humble opinion, our finest product in Capsule Cocks’ special Line of full bodied autonomous techno-organic sexual performance gynoids” Hat made the heiress quirk her brows in deadpan disbelief. This little runt was some kind of sexual android and the best they had? She found that hard to believe as she confined to read the pamphlet over. ““His popularity stems from his physical skill and sexual performance which are very high level and world class. Once you’ve bonded erotically with your Warrior Monk, he will be 100% devoted to you in ensuring your carnal needs are fulfilled and then some…” Pacifica pouted cutely as she discarded the pamphlet, clearly disappointed as she had been expecting something a lot more than this. Sighing as she shrugged her shoulders, seeing the Warrior Monk silently and stoically observe her. Watching as she shrugged off her violet cost, exposing her bare,suntanned shoulders as the camera caught her exposed backside flexing muscles bought about by some swimming. Pacifica continued to hum absent mindedlt as she leaned in close to the Krillin clone,draping her arms around his shoulders. A hum of approval as if she found or felt something impressive as her hands traced along his muscles. Fingers tracing ever inch of what was quite the physique from the sculpted biceps and triceps to the washboard abs.

“Well now you’re certsimly no string bean or stubby runt that’s for sure…and looking at you a bit better,you’re pretty easy in the eyes. Not what I’d call macho or pretty but…kind of handsome and cute in your own way…” Paz quipped as she planted some kisses on his face. Before soon pressing to his as she locked lips with him, soft sensual moans escaping her as she felt him respond, gasping as he found her wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer to deepen their kiss. Her bright blue eyes widening as she found him quite proactive and reactionary to say the least. As she found his tongue in skin her mouth, exploring and seeming to want to memorise thst oral cavern as pacifica squirmed and clenched her thighs. Her body language in the video making it clear she was getting wet from this make out, gasping as they swapped spit and shuddered at feeling his hands move to grab her ass with a firm squeeze. Breaking their liplock as she panted for air,an erotic gleam twinkling in her eyes as she brushed her lush mane. “Mm well now maybe you might be living up to your hype after all little man…” sensually licking her lips, pacifica came to find thst cool,mute gaze on her quite..exhilarating as if his attention being focused on her,and her alone. It was delicious as she grabbed and unzipped her outfit,peeling it off as she kicked off her boots and wiggled her sexy toned pornographic bodied self out. Humming as she noticed the crotch of his boxers was beginning to develop a swell and bulge indicating he was certainly endowed. Standing naked before him with her juicy tits and her bouncy bubble butt as she did a twirl and pose for him, shaking her booty as she leaned to him,arms hugging her tits together with a squeeze as she took enjoyment in his attention focused on her. Culling his face in ernhands as she caressed it with growing tenderness, pouting adorably as she gave his cheek butterfly kisses.

“But you know it’s so unfair I’m the only one naked….so what say we change that and see what I’m going to be laying with. Better hope Briefs didn’t stick me with a lemon…” the heiress mused as she knelt down on her silk carpet floor, grasping the waistband of those boxers and pulling them down. Flinching as she felt Something heavy smack her face with an uppercut as she shook the dizziness out. ““What the bell little ma-!? Oh,my…GOD!!” Video pacifica and Jackie and Wendy bith echoed the same statement as they be helped the sight before them. The biggest,thickest cock they’d ever laid eyes on as it stood erect and pulsed with raw desire, the length and girth veiny and bound to a set of smooth,heavy balls. Pacifica taking delight jn their reactions as she gestured their attention back to the video where her recorded self  began to pant and drool,as if the scent snd sight of this dick,no this COCK was sitting off Something in her brain, like a switch was flipped. Her brain tapping into deep primal instincts, those inner animalistic drives to mate and breed with a raw,virile alpha male. Grasping her Warrior Monk’s cock as she stroked and massaged it,her expression one of growing lust an desire as she shot him a sultry gaze. “Okay then I take back any negative comments I said before….you’re definitely living up,to your reputation…got it right where it counts but…you know how to use it?” She purred as she licked her lips and planted kisses along his length from tip to base. Even his balls got a smooch and a lick as her pussy fished and quivered staining the carpet with her nectar.

Before Jackie and Wendy realised it,the video feed from the drone shifted to show pacifica laying flat on her back on her bed. Her head hanging off the edge of the mattress,her blonde mane swaying as her wide blue eyes flowed with pink hearts as her Warrior Monk was providing her with a powerful facefucking. He neck bulging from the invasion of his length and girth  as he pumped his shaft into her mouth,pistoning like a sexual jackhammer. Her moans muffled as her oussy was squirting like a geyser indicating how hard she was cumming,clutching the bed sheets as her compact stud laid atop her in a 69 position, massaging her hips and thighs along with her juicy,meaty as as he licked away at her pussy, drinking uo from the shower of juices that sprayed his face. It was clear Paz didn’t start off easy or gentle and that what was fast becoming her favourite toy and best friend in her life was aiming to give timeto her thst way because that’s how she wanted it. Jackie and Wendy could feel their swimsuit thongs become soaked as their own pussies gushed, faces flushed with red blushes of arousal  as pacifica played them her little amateur porn show. The video really kicking into high gear as the sunlight shining through Pacifica’s penthouse marked the passage of time.

The video had shifted from the 69 facefucking to Paz riding her Warrior Monk cowgirl style. Hands clasped with his together as she bounced on hismcock with abandon, tongue wagging out as those hearts glowed in her eyes. Deep moans pouring forth from as her as jiggled and her tits bounced. “Oh fuck,oh god,it’s too much!! It’s too good,I’m gonna die! Who needs any other man when I’ve got you!! Oh godI’m falling in love with my sex toy!” She cried and howled as the scene then shifted to her in reverse cowgirl position,panting like the bitch in heat she was as her compact stud massaged and smacked her ass like some erotic bongo drum. Then next came her taking it doggy style as she knelt on the bed in her hands and knees, tits swaying,ass jiggling as he held her waist and pumped away until she couldn’t ho,sup her upper torso. Face falling onto the bed as she hit onto the sheets,her ass raised high as her new lover kept tucking her. Soon she found herself laying front flat,still biting the sheets as she clutched them, drooling as her stallion laid atop her. Kissing along her neck and shoulders as his hips blurred,such was the force and speed of his virility. Who knows how many time they had been drumming together or individually as the pornographic montage kept going. Not one bit of momentum stopping as Paz took load after load in her pussy,her ass,her mouth, her tanlined skin glistening with sweat as finally,the sun seen setting,she laid together in the messed up bed. Sheets in disarray and soaked with sweat and juices as pacifica laid in bed with her short king,their loins connected as they snuggled and made out sensually with passion,their newfound bond forged and connected. The video ending as Paz looked smugly at her two gal pals, whose facial expression were,ones of pure voyeuristic arousal. They were clearly in shock and yet amazed at the same time by what they just witnessed as she giggled sensually.

“He’s safe and snug in his sleeping chamber in Capsule mode,I need to let him have his rest. I couldn’t not take him with me,I never leave home without him. Who needs some sleazy baby dicked chumps and minute men when all you need is a Warrior Monk in your lives…” Paz shuddered as her pussy fished,feeling the phantom sensations of her Krillin clone’s godly cock. His,lips,his touch,his flavour, she was addicted and she knew it. And oh how she loved it. Taking delight in how Wendy and Jackie went from deadpan to borderline bitches in heat. ““I’d highly recommend ordering your own but if you want to be really sure? I think my compact stallion woild be more than anle and up for handling the 3 of us at once…wouldn’t be his first time that’s for sure,what can I say,I like to make sure Capsule Cocks get their money’s worth and so do you….naturally I need to have your permission to record it,consider it yiur reviews….we got a deal ladies…” the blonde’s grin grew as Wendy and Jackie shared a look and nodded, making it clear they wanted her to take her to her room and they could have a personal up close hands on look see at this hih class quality sex toy. Because god damn no way they were passing this up, good men were hard to come by and if Capsule Cocks were growing and making them? Not damn they wanted what got the Pacifica Northwest personal quality seal of approval that was for Damn sure. Jackie herself shuddering as she recalled her brief stay with the actual Warrior Monk himself during her time as a college au pair. God how long had it been since Daddy Krillin….

#sketchfanda #sketchfan85 #sketchfan #krillin smut #dragonball krillin #krillin dragonball #krillin #pacifica #pacifica northwest #gravity falls

[hwauroras]

THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제3장)

pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, pinterest, pinterest

wc ≈2.6k. unedited, mild cursing. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san, artstudent!wooyoung and artstudent!rockstar!hongjoong). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - but this part expands more on wooyoung's journey as an artist. hongjoong jokes about wooyoung and the reader's friendship. hongjoong calls the reader "sweetheart" at the end. mentions of frozen yogurt - if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy free.

“hyung hyung hyung, look at this!”

seonghwa tilted his head at the man on the couch, gently placing down the food he just ordered on the counter.

“what’s up?”

san quickly pointed to the article on his phone screen, his eyes wide with excitement. this album was by far his best, as well as his most famous.

when the release date for san’s album was approaching, anticipation and excitement flooded social media. the album had been kept relatively under wraps, with only the album cover and a few teaser images being released to the public.

while san wasn’t famous by any means - at least, not compared to most of his label mates, the curious and breathtaking nature of the album art caused a lot of intrigue and speculation. and when it was released, it seemed like san blew up overnight, peaking pretty high up in the music charts.

seonghwa peered at the article, his eyebrow raising slightly as his eyes scanned the words.

“oh, damn. seriously? aurora wrote a review?”

“yeah! and now they want to interview me. can you believe that? i’ve been reading that for ages. this is it, hyung. i’ve peaked.”

“oh really? you didn’t think you peaked when you reached a million streams? or when you gained an extra ten thousand followers, and then some? or when someone stopped us on the street for your autog—”

"hey, hey, that's not what i meant and you know it!” san interjected, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "i know those are all massive milestones i never thought were possible for me - but getting an interview with aurora is something else. you know i’ve bought basically every edition since their exclusive interview with kim hongjoong.”

seonghwa grinned, picking up a cushion and playfully hitting san with it.

“and you know i’m just messing with you. i know this is a big deal for you, and i couldn’t be prouder. you poured everything into this, i’ve seen the tears and coffee and red bull induced texts of borderline insanity. i’ve known you for ages san, you’re a true artist - it's incredible to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve."

“oh hyung, you’re being modest now. i couldn’t have done this without you. i mean, have you seen all the speculation around what the meaning of the cover could be? that’s why it went viral. are you sure you don’t want your name out there too? it’s your work after all.”

seonghwa fell silent.

on one hand, the exposure would be great for his business - which was stable, but he was still relatively unknown.

but on the other, how could he possibly betray his muse like that? he didn’t care if they were just a figment of his very deep imagination. to him, they were real. the emotions were real. profiting off of them just felt…wrong.

with a shaky breath, he managed to mutter out a gentle “i’m sure, san.”

san’s eyes softened as he watched the older male shift awkwardly. though a subtle gesture, san knew this was when seonghwa probably felt the most vulnerable.

"hey, it's alright, i understand. i wouldn't want you to compromise how you feel for anything, not even for me. they deserve to remain cherished and protected."

seonghwa’s shoulders visibly relaxed, causing san to smile warmly.

“thank you, san. i’m sorry. i know i must sound ridiculous.”

“don’t be like that. you’re not being ridiculous. i respect your decision and i want you to be comfortable. now - could you please pass me a smoothie? i think i need to cool down after all that excitement. i mean, my heart is still racing.”

seonghwa chuckled and retrieved the smoothies he ordered, handing one over to the younger. as san took a sip, he leaned back on the couch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a contented sigh.

“you know hyung, you've always been my first and biggest supporter. none of this would’ve happened if you weren’t there. and even if your name isn't in the spotlight, your influence and your art are all over my music. it’s you who helped me find my voice, both literally and metaphorically."

seonghwa playfully nudged san, who let out a small laugh at the action.

“oh san. i see you’re still practicing your humility for the interview.”

“hey,” san replied with a dramatic shrug, a glint of mischief in his eye. “no harm in getting ready, right? gotta give them something deep and profound.”

seonghwa shook his head, a fond smile on his lips.

“you’re a handful, you know that?”

“sure, but you love me anyway.”

“nah, your mom just dumped you in the sandbox i was in one day, and i’ve been stuck with you ever since.”

“oh yeah, the sandbox … that was one mean sandcastle, huh, hyung?”

~

“oh hell yeah, we were the real envy of the playground,” you couldn’t help but sarcastically remark as you peered at the picture in wooyoung’s hands.

wooyoung chuckled as he held up the old, slightly faded but intact photograph.

"you know it! that sandcastle was the talk of the playground for WEEKS."

the photo depicted a much younger version of the two of you - annoying little seven year old shits, as you had so eloquently worded it when wooyoung first presented the picture. you were both covered in sand and sporting proud expressions as you stood next to what was, admittedly, a creation very worthy of its praise - a giant mound of sand and some sticks. what really topped it off was the pretty pink shell you brought from home, after your moms took you both to the beach.

“you remember that shell, right?" wooyoung asked, a familiar twinkle in his eye.

you nodded, your own eyes glossing over with mischief.

“how could i forget, stupid? i was the one that found it, brought it to school and placed it ever so gently onto our masterpiece. i was a revolutionary. truly.”

"oh, for sure. and now you’re a top scoring art student. with such groundbreaking ideas like that, i’m not shocked.”

“well thank you, soon-to-be-industry-recognized photographer. seriously, what an amazing opportunity.”

you beamed at your best friend, your eyes and your heart filling with pride.

surprised by the sudden change of topic, wooyoung’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

“ah … thank you, y/n. i still can’t believe crescent wants me to be their photographer. i mean, i know it’s only for one edition, but … come on. this is choi san we’re talking about.”

“and i know you’ll do great. you were chosen for a reason, wooyoung. you don’t have any connections to the industry other than hongjoong, and you still got the job. that’s how you know that the reason is talent. pure, raw talent.”

"thanks, y/n. i’ll give it my all, just like that day in the sandbox."

you waved off his thanks with a flutter of your hand before reaching for his half-eaten frozen yogurt.

“that’s what friends are for, right? now, tell me more about this crescent gig, since you’ve been all vague about it lately. when’s the shoot? do you have any ideas for it yet? are you being paid like cha-ching or CHA-CHING? is it enough to buy froyo that’s better than this?”

wooyoung laughed at your rapid fire string of questions, shifting his position to face you more comfortably.

“let’s see … the shoot is in two weeks, yes i do, i’m being paid an undisclosed amount of money, and it may or may not be enough to buy froyo that’s better than that. but can i just say, i refuse to have you slander my choices. it’s the best flavor and you know it.”

“oh sweetie … i pity you for having such sad, tasteless tastebuds. but i can agree to disagree for the sake of my curiosity. what are your ideas?”

wooyoung took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to your questions, stars shining in his eyes.

"well, for the shoot, i’ve been thinking of capturing san in his most candid moments. you know, those unguarded seconds when he’s lost in his music. the writing, the recording, the best, the melody. passion, emotion and vulnerability - i believe that's what makes his music so powerful. and luckily, with his look and aesthetic, i’m sure i could capture it in a way that exudes the sophistication and elegance crescent scouted me for.”

you listened intently as wooyoung described his vision. it was clear that he had put a lot of thought into it, and you couldn't help but be impressed by the confidence and passion that poured out of him as he spoke.

"that sounds incredible, woo," you replied, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "i have no doubt that this will all turn out beautiful.”

“thanks, y/n-”

“i mean, san is such a fine man. he’d look good in any lighting, i bet. he probably doesn’t have bad taste in frozen yogurt either.”

wooyoung burst into laughter, your playful teasing and dismissal bringing back a familiar lightness to the conversation. he playfully nudged your shoulder, and you stuck your tongue out at him in response.

"you’re impossible, y/n. anyway, san’s very photogenic, so the shoot should be a breeze. and maybe, just maybe, i’ll consider trying a different flavor of frozen yogurt once we’re done - just so you can let it go.”

as you were about to respond to wooyoung’s comment (the audacity), a voice from behind you interrupted the conversation.

“alright, lovebirds? i thought i’d find you here.”

turning around in your chair, you observed the figure leaning against the doorframe.

hongjoong stared right back, the intensity of his heavily lined eyes almost piercing into your soul.

“no lovebirds here, hyung. just two best friends in a room.”

“oh yeah, sure,” hongjoong scoffed, his signature smirk creeping onto his face. “and let me guess, they might kiss?”

“no, we won’t.”

“boo, you’re no fun, wooyoung. alright, make way. i need to talk to you.”

the now bright red ponytailed man slinked over to the table, the chains on his flared pants making a jingling sound as he walked. he grabbed a chair and turned it around, plopping down onto it nonchalantly, using the back of the chair as an armrest for his distressed-sleeved arms.

“okay, that picture is so fucking cute, but- that’s besides the point. wooyoung. buddy. i’m gonna hit you with some bad news and then immediately replace it with good news. you ready?”

“lay it on me, hyung.”

“i spoke to the guys. and they’re not that interested in working with you to be honest. but you know who are? the hotshots over at lost island records.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened at hongjoong’s words, and a hand flew to your mouth. his curiosity piqued, your best friend leaned closer to the older man.

"lost island records? are you serious, hyung? how did you even manage to do that?”

“they have an email, dumbass. i just compiled some of the demos, and sent them in. they got back to me a couple of hours back, when i was working on a piece for the upcoming runway. i would’ve come earlier if i wasn’t being graded.”

“that’s … really huge. this is amazing, hyung! i’m at a loss for words, we’re going-”

“they only want you, wooyoung.”

wooyoung’s excitement shifted into a mix of confusion and surprise the moment the words left hongjoong’s lips. he blinked, processing the news, while you sat there, equally dumbfounded and trying to wrap your head around the very sudden and jarring turn of events.

lost island records, THE lost island records, a prestigious and famous music label known for its top-tier artists including choi san, was interested in art student jung wooyoung over up and coming artist kim hongjoong?

“w-wait, but … why only me, hyung? this doesn't make any sense. those are OUR demos. and YOU’RE the actual musician …”

“i don’t care for that label, to be honest. you’re a much better fit. so i just cut my parts out. they’re not our demos anymore, they’re yours.”

the classroom, which was empty except for the three of you and some easels, seemed to hang in suspense as hongjoong dropped this bombshell.

you watched the exchange, torn between excitement and concern for your best friend. hongjoong’s nonchalant, almost dismissive attitude toward the situation was baffling, and it took everything in you to not question him about it.

luckily, wooyoung finally found his voice again.

“hyung, i can’t do that. you did most of it, and i’m pretty clueless when it comes to music, compared to you. music is your life, i can't just leave you out of it.”

hongjoong offered a small smile, and lightly punched the younger on the arm.

“i’m almost offended you don’t seem to know that my dream isn't necessarily tied to a record label, wooyoung. it’s why i still do what i do and haven’t accepted any offers. trust me, i’ve had many. if i wanted that backing, i’d have it by now. i don’t care who hears it, i don’t care how many people hear it - as long as it resonates. i’m sure you’ll figure out how to-”

“i’m turning it down.”

wooyoung’s declaration hung heavy in the air and hongjoong, who had been so casual and nonchalant just mere moments ago, now stared at him with wide eyes - as if wooyoung were some kind of poltergeist.

"you’re turning it down?"

wooyoung nodded firmly, his expression determined and confident.

“yes. i’ve still got the photoshoot with crescent so it’s really no big deal. but if i’m making music, it’s with you. or with y/n, but like, that might not be the best idea unless i’m planning on making music that sounds like a dying whale.”

with your brain still buffering and in need of a full reset, you couldn’t think of a clever quip in time. so of course, you decided to settle for the only answer you were capable of mustering -

“fuck you.”

“aww, thank you! you’re an amazing friend too, y/n!”

the tension in the room seemed to completely evaporate as the banter between you returned, and hongjoong’s initial shock transformed back into his usual smirk as he leaned back in his chair, clearly very amused by the scene unfolding in front of him.

"wow, wooyoung," he added, "i am both shocked, and not at all. turning down an opportunity like this for the sake of loyalty. i knew you were the sappy one but i also thought you were supposed to be the rational one in this little friendship of ours.”

wooyoung, who was not the least bit bothered by the older’s jests, smiled warmly.

“oh don’t worry, i am. but, you know music is your passion, not mine. mine lies in photography, and i have an opportunity for that so not all is lost. i appreciate this, i really do, but i’d rather be true to myself, and create with the people who matter to me the most.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes dramatically, but there was an unmissable glint of respect and admiration in them.

“ugh, barf. you’re such a sentimental sap, wooyoung. it's kind of endearing. but … still gross.”

you couldn't help but laugh with them, relieved that the tension had all but disappeared. despite the unexpected turn of events, and despite how much you agreed with hongjoong, you were proud of your best friend for sticking to the morals you knew were very authentic and genuine.

shifting your focus to the pretty red haired man, you mirrored his expression and tapped his arm.

“hey, hongjoong. quick question.”

“go ahead, sweetheart.”

“what do you think of wooyoung’s frozen yogurt?”

“i swear y/n, if you don’t shut the damn hell up-”

~

TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading, @joongs-moon

#kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez oneshots #ateez fluff oneshot #ateez fluff imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #park seonghwa oneshot #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x y/n #ateez series #ateez angst

[mightyflamethrower]

Swedish Wind Farms Facing Bankruptcy

By Paul Homewood

From the Brussels Signal ;

Two Swedish economists have issued a warning that the country’s wind-power industry is on the brink of a wave of bankruptcies.

Christian Sandström and Christian Steinbeck analysed wind-power companies’ annual reports in Sweden and their work revealed “significant financial problems”, they told Swedish media outlet Kvartal on February 28.

“The total loss for the years 2017–2022 amounted to 13.5 billion Swedish krona [€1.2 billion], which meant a loss margin of 39 per cent,” they said about the sector.

Such heavy losses seem to be the rule rather than the exception for wind-power companies in Sweden, according to the annual reports.

The Swedish Government has been pushing its national energy policies in a “green” direction, promoting wind power and decommissioning nuclear power plants. But the cost appears to be much more painful than previously thought, the economists stressed.

Sandström and Steinbeck have been pointing towards profitability problems in the wind sector for some time “despite suppliers benefiting from Government support through electricity certificates and being exempt from covering the entire expenses associated with grid adaptation for wind energy or the depreciation of properties near installations”.

Since the economists’ initial findings, Markbygden Ett, Sweden’s largest wind-farm installation with 179 turbines, is already facing bankruptcy, stacking up hundreds of millions of krona in debt.

The firm is not alone – many other alternative-power companies in Sweden are in trouble.

Sandström and Steinbeck pointed out that the sector as a whole has not made a profit in any year since 2017.

Company losses have ranged from 19 per cent to 90 per cent of turnover between 2017 and 2022, they said.

“The losses are simply because the industry cannot produce electricity at a cost below the market price, despite extensive subsidies,” the economists noted.

“That would put any other industry out of business, [although] the rate of investment has been very high.”

Both newer and older plants in the heavily subsidised industry shed cash, while economies of scale are also a limitation. The biggest farms make the biggest losses and only moderate-sized wind farms, with between 20 and 30 turbines, are turning any profits and those are at best described as “modest”.

Costs have failed to come down despite growing experience among those operating in the sector and the researchers did not observe any correlation between time elapsed and increased electricity production from existing turbines.

“Just as sailors on sailing ships once had to pray to higher powers for wind to get somewhere, wind farms can only wait for the right amount of wind,” they added.

On top of that, just 20 per cent of wind turbines in Sweden are Swedish owned. The rest are operated by foreign enterprises. Some 13 per cent of the reviewed turbines are Chinese.

Sandström and Steinbeck said the Chinese investors made their calculations based on “wind mapping” carried out by the Swedish Energy Agency and they have doubts about the accuracy of the data.

Also hammering profits is the fact that large parts of the Swedish wind-power industry cannot transfer or save power over-generation, meaning electricity needs to be consumed instantly or not at all – making it effectively unsustainable.

A few wind farms in the South of the country have gained financial momentum in recent years but all the others are stacking up more losses.

The academics noted that the change in the Swedish energy mix – decommissioning nuclear plants in favour of wind power – was politically driven and that no robust, financial independent industry has subsequently emerged.

A peculiar paradox also haunts the sector, the economists stressed. Low levels of wind leads to high electricity prices yet it also hinders electricity delivery.

On the flip side, when the wind is more powerful, oversupply drives down prices when there is ample electricity for sale.

“It is difficult to see a way out of this dilemma,” Sandström and Steinbeck concluded.

Three things stand out here.

Second is the fact that low winds mean high market prices, and vice versa. Obviously wind farms make their money when the wind blows, so low prices at those times drastically impact earnings.

In the UK, the CfD subsidy protects wind farms from these fluctuations, whilst ROC subsidies are generous enough to offset low market prices.

And thirdly, the article rightly notes that wind farms don’t have to pay for grid adaption and other wider system costs.

[mywifeleftme]

297: I Giganti // Terra in bocca (Poesia di un delitto)

Terra in bocca (poesia di un delitto) I Giganti 1971, Ri-Fi

Today was the day I think I finally turned heel as a record collector. There’s a cute little shop not far from my house that specializes in CDs, but has a modest used vinyl selection. Most of it is very basic fare (I’ve never seen so many Blood, Sweat & Tears records in one place in my damn life), but all priced like it’s ten years ago and the vinyl speculating bubble never happened. I ducked in for the first time last week, and after some assiduous digging plucked some outrageous gems: an original pressing of Junior Kimbrough’s All Night Long and a Canadian OP of Richard & Linda Thompson’s I See the Bright Lights Tonight! The first goddamn Exuma record for $11! I even found Roger Miller’s debut, a theoretically dirt common record that’s nonetheless eluded me for years. I walked out with easily $250 worth of squeaky-clean wax I actually wanted for less than $100.

But rather than just enjoying my good fortune, it set the blackly gleaming coils of avarice inside me into motion. I’d snagged a cool little compilation of Bengali playback songs by Aarti Mukherjee for $12 from their modest little Indian music section (a record I had to add to Discogs myself), and while grooving to it I decided to look up a couple of the others I remembered seeing there. That’s when I discovered the Lata Mangeshkar record I’d briefly considered at $15 last sold on Discogs for almost $380. Reader, I try to suppress my Jungian Deals for Deals’ Sake shadow, but through my father’s side of the family tree I’ve inherited a deep streak of flea market cretinism. I fear this situation has made it ascendant. The shop was closed the day I made my dark Discogs discovery, so I waited, slavering, for the following morning, whereupon I told my coworkers I had to walk a traveling friend’s dog and would pick up the hour at the end of my shift, and shambled to the store to see if my dusty prize was still there.

Portrait of the collector courtesy the Royal Arachnological Museum

I felt as though I were robbing the mom and pop shop as I clutched the LP to my chest, telling myself that at least their small selection of recent extreme metal records were neatly labeled with little post-it notes that indicated the shopkeep had compared his stock with Amazon’s algorithmically-deranged marketplace, but I knew I was only lying to myself. These poor sods didn’t know about Discogs. Only I did, and it had merely cost me a shred of my soul. I bought the Mangeshkar, and two Bengali records of unclear value, though one is autographed. And I bought this dorky Italo prog record reissue on blue vinyl that I have far less legitimate musical interest in than the Mangeshkar, purely because some Greek psychopath is trying to sell his copy for $300 US, and other pressings are starting at $75 and up. It’s a concept album about the Mafia that was so thoroughly censored by Italy’s corrupt media it was practically unknown till the ‘90s, which, as a backstory, objectively rocks. A lot of it sounds like Jesus Christ Superstar, which objectively sucks. I Giganti thank Karl Marx on the back of the sleeve but include a poem by the horny proto-fascist Gabriele D’Annunzio in the gatefold, who pioneered Mussolini’s tactic of haranguing crowds from his balcony window and in an unrelated incident later fell out of a window and hurt himself so badly he had to withdraw from politics, which is confusing. The album itself is… fine really, has some cool Mellotron, though I’d rather hear Goblin play The Godfather theme. Someday I will try to sell it for a profit, but if God is just the bubble will collapse before then and I’ll be entombed with it.

297 reviews in, I am finally lost.

297/365

#i giganti #italian prog #progressive rock #greed #avarice #'70s music #unflattering self-portraiture #'70s prog #music review #vinyl record #this is so stupid #i am so stupid

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

I feel like one of the more overlooked things about Goncharov (1973) is its place as yet another near-miss in the Cold War.

The novelist Roberto Saviano, well-regarded in his native Italy but not particularly famous at the time, was certainly unknown outside its borders.  He was free to set his thriller in a 1969 in which the Soviet Union was in the last throes of a shambolic dissolution without anyone in NATO calling his publisher up and asking them to please have a word with him.

The book’s modest European success did nothing to change that.  When director Matteo JWHJ0715, flush off his first successful film--a collaboration with Vittorio De Sica and Lina Wertmüller--was looking for a new project, he felt that the milieu would add a spark of notoriety to the picture without alienating the Cinecittà crowd.

Enter Martin fucking Scorsese, who’d just blown everybody’s tits off with Woodstock and was palling around with Brian De Palma, James Cameron, Francis Ford Coppola, and Steven Spielberg, in addition to having Roger Ebert declaring him the second coming of Movie Christ.  He was also, critically, extremely American.

JWHJ0715 had yet to run into his first political landmine (1975′s La grande abbuffata, which authorities correctly read as a critique of the eucharist and whose broad domestic success resulted in Vatican City closing its gates until JWHJ0715 personally assured the Pope that he hadn’t meant it and was very sorry), and so he was ignorant of what including an American producer and shooting with an American cast would mean for his film. 

(In spite of  JWHJ0715′s position as director, Goncharov was definitely Scorsese’s problem once it was released, since no one in Russia or America knew who the hell JWHJ0715 was yet.)

Once word started getting around of the particulars of Goncharov’s setting, sales of the book ticked up, particularly in quarters that were known to be responsible for disseminating banned Western media in the Soviet bloc.  Scorsese was aware that the ‘dissolving Soviet Union’ part of the script could be a hot button issue, but since they were shooting on a small budget with a cast of nascent but not full-blown stars on location in Italy, he thought that part of things was likely to fly under the radar. 

To hedge their bets, Scorsese talked JWHJ0715 into shooting the scenes where the Soviet Union’s status was most explicit in (extremely bad) Russian, with the rationale that they could just change the subtitles if it caused distribution problems. 

Unfortunately, making the scenes immediately understandable to Russian viewers did not make things better.

By the time shooting wrapped in early 1973, Soviet ministers were already advising Brezhnev to make as much political hay about it as possible.  The film didn’t properly exist yet, but there was an expectation in Russia that the adaptation would stick fairly close to the book’s plot (it... did its best). They felt confident in rushing two domestic films into distribution to answer the decadent capitalist wetdream of Mother Russia’s failure: Mikhail Bogin‘s Looking for a Man (basically Goncharov-the-novel, but some of the United States were seceding again due to the excesses of the capitalists, which comes up once per 8 minutes of run-time with or without on-screen justification) and Vladimir Vajnshtok’s Russo-Cuban take on America’s founding myth, the cowboy.

(Ironically, Vajnshtok’s The Headless Horseman getting fast-tracked past committee review to combat the presumptive anti-communist menace of Goncharov resulted in the responsible officials later being accused of subversion due to Headless Horseman’s now-famous caricature of the Stalin family.)

Low-budget film editing in Italy being what it was in the ‘70s, both of the Soviet answers to Goncharov had come and gone before JWHJ0715 had a copy ready for screening in September.  It generated an immediate interest among both cineastes and critics due to the unusually high production values and the undeniable talent of its crew.  The initial buzz due to its quality was quickly augmented by word that it might get denied a full release for political reasons, guaranteeing the film would shoot to number one at the box office in Italy, Monaco, and Spain the week it dropped for mainstream audiences.

The studio and censors hadn’t requested any changes to the Russian scenes, and so the film’s milieu was untouched.

Unfortunately for all involved, October saw a joint attack by Soviet-armed Egyptian and Syrian forces on America-backed Israel, which sparked a superpower pissing match involving a naval standoff, North Korea, and Henry Kissinger telling Hafez al-Assad to kiss his entire ass on the floor of the UN.  Brezhnev found himself denying requests for Soviet troops in a proxy war with the West just as the American film press began mailing issues celebrating a revolutionary new film in which the Soviet Union had fallen to pieces.

That the alternate-present reality of the film didn’t affect much of the film’s action and barely registered with most of its audience was lost on the diplomats handling an already-tense situation.  The studio pressured Scorsese and JWHJ0715 to cut a new version that was less politically charged.  War-hawks characterized cutting a new version of the film as showing weakness in the face of the enemy.

In spite of continued public interest in the film, the distribution ground to a halt, studio support evaporated, and paid publicity campaigns were cancelled.  Kissinger’s success with shuttle diplomacy meant a return to the nuclear powers’ detente, but the film’s fate as a lost classic had been sealed that first week.  Everybody who knew anything about film had heard about Goncharov, but very few had actually gotten to see it. 

By the time a rushed English-language translation of the novel hit American bookstands, interest had faded in all but the most die-hard Scorsese fans.  As the crew went on to do spectacular, genre-defining work in other films, interest in their time on Goncharov waned. 

Aside from the occasional luck-of-the-draw screening with old copies in arthouse cinemas and private European showrooms (JWHJ0715 was reportedly fond of screening it for new ADs to see if they were artistically a good match), it was effectively a lost film until the bootleg DVD trade of the late ‘90s made it possible to obtain poorly-dubbed and badly transferred editions that still gave movie buffs a taste of what it must have been at its best.

With any luck, current interest in the film will get Scorsese and Criterion to produce a new, fully-restored director’s cut so that everyone can see it as it was meant to be seen, and the world can finally enjoy JWHJ0715′s definitive moment behind the camera.

#goncharov #unreality

[cladnplaid]

My Year In Review:

Books Read: 32 (Goodreads)

Personal Fav: The Exorcist by Peter Blatty

Most Recommended: Beyond the Wand by Tom Felton

Movies Watched: 112

Top 5

1. Suzume

2. Godzilla Minus One

3. Oppenheimer

4. John Wick 4

5. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3

Honorable mentions:

Across the Spider-Verse Pt 1 & Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Pt 1

Video Games Played (Ranked I literally only played 5 games)

1. Guardians of the Galaxy

2. Resident Evil 4 Remake

3. Crisis Core Final Fantasy 7 Remaster

4. Jedi: Fallen Order

5. Hogwarts Legacy

Games I watched (Ranked)

God bless my brother, my worstie @the-gotheltic-rowan, Markiplier, Jacksepticeye & Maximilian Dood 🫶 for helping me consume a game when I didn't have the brainpower to play

1. Faith: The Unholy Trinity

2. God of War: Ragnarok

3. Mortal Kombat I

4. Spider-Man 2

5. Final Fantasy 15

6. Final Fantasy 16

Series Watched (Ranked Top 9 because I didn't watch more than that)

1. The Last of Us

2. The Bear

3. One Piece Live Action

4. Midnight Mass

5. Spy x Family (s1)

6. Rewatching Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

7. Rewatching Breaking Bad

8. Rewatching Better Call Saul

9. X-Files

Favorite Personal Growths:

Got really good at cooking and meal prep

Paid off dept and built up a modest savings

Got my life more organized

Sewed some of my most challenging projects yet

Reorganized my living space to make my home my sanctuary

Learned to live in the moment and not be a workaholic. Take days off. Take a drive. Got out of town for a day or two.

2024 Goals

(in no particular order)

Daily reading plan with Bible

Stop watching YouTube shorts. Seriously, short form, rapid-fire content is so bad for my attention span

Crocheting a tempeture blanket

Finishing all personal open sewing projects

Re-design my bedroom to have more space

Experiment 1st month with Carnivore diet and see what happens

Get active

Drink Less

Keep a regular sleep schedule

Charge phone away from bedstand

Use alarmclock to wake up so I have to GET UP

Play & beat the following video games from prev years:

Alan Wake 2

Jedi Survivor

Resident Evil Village

GoW Ragnarok

Spider-Man 2

The Quarry

Until Dawn

Resident Evil 0 & 1 Remaster

Listen to an audiobook on daily commute to work

Read the following via Audiobook:

Finish Hannibal Series

Finish Eragon

Dracula

Frankenstein

more Star Wars Classic EU books

Brave New World

11/22/63

Finish more TV series instead of brainlessly watching YouTube in that time

Mandalorian S3

Andor

Ahsoka

Reacher

The Haunting Anthology

Read a physical book before bed and not mindlessly read fanfic

1. Finish Resident Evil Books

2. Finish all owned manga & graphic novels

3. Read thrifted Stephen King books

4. Death Stranding

5. Alan Wake

I wanted to give myself some realistic goals like last year. I found that keeping a monthly log of these types of things really felt good to do. So I'm going to log more stuff here in hopes to for to keep me more accountable and to enjoy consuming fulfilling content again and not fall down a youtube rabbit hole for hours unless it is long-form video content that is edifying.

This is tumblr. This is my personal little space where I can gush about my interests. I can't do that on social media like FB, Insta, or Twitter without it feeling like a popularity contest or a great debate. So yall freaks get unsolicited updates from my funky little life filled with whatever all this is.

Goodreads | Letterbox | Gaming Sideblog

#cant sleep so 🤷‍♀️ #personal goals #rambles #2023 wrapped #book recommendations #films #video games #books #tv