#aldous x reader

[lazulixz]

Headcanons for Aldous, phoveus and khufra x fem reader?:))

HEADCANONS

Featuring: Aldous, Phoveus, Khufra

Warnings: a mention of yandere, nothing except that if you count the former one a warning

A/N: this is fem reader, full of fluff

ALDOUS:

. Since his "transformation" Aldous believed he could never be capable of loving again. And that was when before he met you.

. Clad in foreign clothing, you approached him with courage, something most people he met has not shown. Aldous deduced you were a noble from another kingdom, and with your shown bravery, he was intrigued.

. You were only there to satisfy your curiousity, the rumors about the mysterious labyrinth possessed by Western Desert's Minoan Kingdom having reached your ears.

. As usual he was very cautious with you, suspecting you almost instantly. Aldous was used to the visitors being corrupted by their greed, but you very quickly proven you were a trustworthy ally.

. Days passed by since your last visit, and he felt an unfamiliar feeling of longing, and Aldous was almost shocked to see your figure once more heading towards him. You looked beautiful as always.

. Aldous was surprised, having caught himself having thoughts of you more often, a desire of protecting and caring for you burned in his heart. But he couldn't bring himself to confess, afterall, he was a guardian and you were a mortal. It's not going to work in his perspective.

. You changed that. While you babbled about your adventures, used to receiving no reply from the stoic man beside you, you decided to confess boldly since you thought he wasn't listening. The man paused as the moment you spoke that repeated over and over in his head, he's not crazy, you did say that. And the rest was history.

. Very protective of you, you can expect that since he's a guardian afterall. Bonus points if you're weak, he won't degrade you for it since now he has a reason to protect you.

. He’s not the type to show his love via communication, he prefers to express himself by physical touch and acts of service.

. Very stoic most of the time, but when you talk don’t feel lonely because he's actually listening, replying occasionally with small murmurs of "Mhm", "Is that so?", and "Go on".

. He loves your voice. That's all.

PHOVEUS:

. He had stumbled upon you, a quivering mortal in Barren Lands that seemed like even a slightest pressure would make you crack.

. He treated you like a fine piece of china, so fragile yet so delicate in a way that makes him want to keep you all to himself. Afterall, sharing is not his thing.

. While he certainly do not desire weaklings for comrades, he ultimately decided on a different role for you instead. You would be his partner.

. You only agreed to save yourself from the harsh treatment of Barren Lands, but oddly enough you found yourself gradually begin to see him as an actual lover. Phoveus shared the same situation.

. He brought you everywhere with him while in search for Astaros' body to awaken for more power and hated a possible chance of you both being separated.

. Super protective. You look like you could die just from a breeze of the wind! he claims. (he's exaggerating so bad)

. Truthfully even if he were to gain more power, he would still keep you as his one and only lover even if there were better choices. You were by his side since his first steps on being a reborn man, how could he ever replace you?

+ Bonus: could honestly turn into a yandere if you’re not careful.

KHUFRA:

. While Khufra without doubt, yearned for wealth and to conquer lands, there was one thing he wanted more than the former: You.

. You were just the headmaid of his many servants, but he oddly requested your assistance more if you were available. Though, he stubbornly declined any other maid's offer to help him of his problems.

. It was no secret you were his favorite, even the thick-headed man realized that.

. When you help him, if he's lucky you guys will accidentally touch hands for a moment. He took note of how soft it was the first time it happened.

. It didn't help his "crushing on you" situation too that your beauty could compare to his even the most loveliest concubines, he even considered upping you to that rank. (Spoiler: he did)

. Even if he's a tyrant and strict as ever, you still found yourself falling for him. Those small short moments where he would treat you with kindness, you just can't help but blush even when he's teasing you.

. Your touch was delicate, and he saw how you treated everyone with the utmost kindness and graceful manners he has ever seen. He just had to make you his. What is there to lose anyway?

© 2023 httpsrenz don't repost, modify, or copy

[kikiwooo]

y'all... I feel like a total mistake rn

Just fucking obtained Aldous's collector skin from Hanabi's event when I was doin one and two pulls thought it was like a elite skin then uh

Idk how to play with him GAAAHHH guess gonna learn just for his that skin smh

my total pulls was like 12 ???

[asendingtothestarsasone]

Waiting to hold you

Summary: A chance encounter leads you to a date with the gorgeous and sweet Jake Kiszka.

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI

Oral (female receiving), Fingering (female receiving) Unprotected Sex, Dirty talk, Biting, Soft Jake.

It was winter, bitterly cold and lonely, when I walked into the library on a Wednesday afternoon. I was sitting in a chair reading Animal Farm by George Orwell when I felt a man walk in behind me. I tried to keep reading and not pay attention, but something kept me locked onto him. As he walked up to the counter, I could hear him talking to the librarian behind me.

"Hey, I'm looking for a book. Could you help me?"

"Sure, what are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for Animal Farm. Do you, have it?"

"We sure do. Unfortunately, it looks like you're too late. That woman over there just came in and asked me the same thing."

"Huh, funny that. Looks like I'll have to find something else."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sit down in the corner. His beautiful wavy brown hair cascading around his shoulders. My god, his shoulders and his arms, tanned and muscular. He was fit but not like the usual douchebags; he was perfect. His t-shirt hung loosely with a V-neck that showed off his silver necklaces hanging against his chest. I tried to look away, but I was a woman possessed. I needed to know him, who was he? What made him tick? Why was I drawn to him like a moth to a flame?

Opening his book, he looked me right in the eye. Oh god, he saw me. Fuck, he saw me. I tried to look away, but his piercing gaze… his eyes the color of honey. Then it hit me: his smile. It was perfect, so kind, so loving but with a hint of smirk. I knew I had to look away now before I made more of a fool of myself. I stuck my head back into my book and tried to ignore the god of a man sitting across from me, but I couldn't. I snuck a glance; he was reading Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. My god, he had taste in literature too. This was bad, very bad.

I lost myself in my book. Before I knew it, I had finished it and he was getting up to leave. This was my shot.

"Hey, I saw that you were after this? I just finished it, so feel free to take it. You could check it out and take it home."

Oh god, I sounded desperate.

"Oh, thanks, that would be great."

"No problem, anytime."

He walked out the door and I quickly went to the bathroom, splashing water on my face. Looking into the mirror, "God, why didn't I just ask him for his phone number?"

Gathering my stuff, I headed out the door, but I was immediately struck by him man leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his hand, running his hand through his hair. He walked right up to me. I was frozen in shock. He hands me a piece of paper.

"Here's my phone number."

Looking deep into my eyes, not another word was spoken. He hopped onto a gorgeous motorbike I had ever seen and was gone.

I couldn't believe it. It was like he read my mind. Once I got home, I immediately unrolled the note below his number. It read "Jake Kiszka xo". Oh god, I was in trouble. His handwriting was literally perfect. How could I possibly call him? What would I say?

As it started to get dark, I gathered the courage to call him.

"Hey, it's Jake."

"Umm, hi… I kind of met you today at the library."

"Yeah, I remember you. You're the girl that stole my book."

"Well, no, I just got there first."

Yes, that was perfect, be confident.

"Oh, that's right, ha-ha."

"So, um, why did you give me your number? Did you want some book recommendations?"

"Yeah, something like that. I was thinking more like I pick you up, we go out for drinks, then I take you back to mine."

"Oh, I see. I'm not really like that, I…"

"You didn't let me finish. Then you choose a movie, and I'll set it up on the projector in the movie room and make popcorn. After the movie, I'll drop you home. You see, I have this awesome movie room, but I've run out of ideas for films, and I thought since you had such great taste in books, I'm sure you can introduce me to some good films."

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure I could do that."

"Okay, great! Let's say an hour. Message me your address."

"Okay, sweet."

Wow, okay, that just happened. Oh, fuck, what was I going to wear? It had been ages since I'd been on a date. Rifling through my closet, I struck gold: a tight black mini skirt my sister had left behind! Now, let's see—there's that Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, those black platform boots, and a leather jacket. Perfect!

As I applied a touch of makeup, a thought crossed my mind: I don't even know this guy. He could be a total weirdo. Maybe I should do some sleuthing, get a sense of who he is. Logging into Facebook, I entered his name. Instantly, my jaw dropped. "Jake Kiszka, guitarist for Greta Van Fleet." "Greta Van Fleet wins Grammy Award for Best Rock Album." "Greta Van Fleet sells out Madison Square Garden." No way, this can't be real. But then I scrolled through some photos, and there he was—long hair, dangling necklaces. Totally lost in the moment, he looked absolutely glorious.

God, if I wasn't nervous enough already, he was a fucking rockstar, and he asked me on a date. This man could have anyone he wanted at the snap of his fingers.

Gathering all the confidence I could muster; I messaged him my address. Then I heard my phone beep, and there was the message:

"I'll be there in 10."

Before I knew it, there was a knock at my door. Opening it, I was greeted with that gorgeous smile. God, he looked good: black button-up shirt left half undone to show his necklaces, sleeves rolled up, and black jeans.

"Hey, Y/N, are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I'm ready."

Walking over to his car I hoped into the passenger side

"Hey, I think you didn't shut the door hard enough." Here, he leans over to grab the door from the inside, pulling it shut with force. By now, I am getting flustered; I can't even make eye contact with him.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"No not at all."

As he grabbed his packet of cigarettes and pulled one to his lips, I couldn't help but stare at his hands. He had on silver rings; his hands were big and beautiful. I let my mind wander to how they would feel holding me. As he took a puff of his cigarette, I thought I had never seen someone look so attractive smoking. Absentmindedly, I pressed my legs together and forced my eyes away. Thank God, the music started playing. Tim Buckleys' "Song to the Siren" was one of my favorites, so I started humming along.

"Oh, you know this song?"

"Yeah, it's actually one of my favorite songs"

"Huh, good taste in music too. What a talented girl."

"You can talk."

"What do you mean? What do you know of my talents hmm?"

"Oh nothing. I was just making conversation ha-ha."

I decided it would be best not to let him know I knew who he was; I didn't want to come off as a groupie.

"I see."

He gives me a mischievous look and continues driving.

After a while, we get to the bar and find our way to a table. Looking at the drink menu was overwhelming, so I quickly picked a fun cocktail. He ordered a whiskey on the rocks.

Drinking my drink as fast as possible, he kept staring at me. I was definitely going to need liquid courage tonight.

"So, tell me about yourself."

"Well, I grew up in a small town I moved here about 3 years ago."

"Oh really? what made you move here?"

"I moved here to be with my boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend but he was my boyfriend at the time."

"Yeah, I get you."

"We split up a year ago and I have just been here ever since."

"So, you don't have any family up here?"

"No."

"But you have friends though, right?

"No not really, it's just me."

The concern on his face was unexpected.

"You don't anyone to look out for you?"

"Well, no not really but I'm okay, I'm fine."

"Well, you have me now."

Looking into his eyes, something told me to trust him. The next hour was spent talking about everything from our favorite authors to our childhoods. Turns out we had so much in common. As the drinks started to work their magic, I finally felt comfortable and started coming out of my shell.

"Should we head off? a movie and some snacks sound really good right now."

"Yes, I'm ready to go."

Getting back into his car, he put on some Pink Floyd.

"You didn't shut the door properly again ha-ha."

This time, when he leaned over to shut it, his arm brushed across me. His touch was electrifying; I could smell his cologne—it was dark, musky, and smelled divine. I tried to play it cool, as if the interaction didn't make my insides do backflips, but I think he could tell. He just seemed to know without words.

Driving up to his house, I was shocked by how nice it was. Finding our way to the movie room, I sat down on the couch. It had gotten very cold since we left the bar. He quickly lit the fire, bringing warmth to the room.

"So, what movie have you go in store for us?"

"Bones and All."

"Ooh I haven't heard of that one."

"It's a newer film but its haunting and beautiful and it really stuck with me."

"It sounds perfect." He flashed me a perfect smile.

Settling on the couch, he brought out a whole table full of snacks: popcorn, candy, a fruit platter with strawberries, grapes, and melon, cheese and crackers, mini sandwiches, and even some chocolate-covered pretzels. God, he really went all out.

When he finally joined me on the couch the movie started, and he dimmed the lights.

By now I was really feeling the cold and was starting to shiver.

"Are you cold, wait here I will bring a blanket"

"No, I'm fine really"

"You are shivering, I'll be back in a second."

When he returned with the blanket, he wrapped it around me and then put his arms around me to warm me up. As we sat there in the blanket cocoon, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt safe, like I didn't have to be strong for a moment, like I could just be myself.

As the movie played, we had some snacks some more drinks I was feeling so content.

"Hay Y/n can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"Can I kiss you."

"Please kiss me."

This kiss was everything when his lips touched mine all I could see where stars his lips where so soft and he was so gentle it made my heart flutter.

"I have wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you Y/N."

"Me too."

The kisses turned more passionate, and I was on cloud nine.

"Can I take you to my room?"

I was nervous but the way he looked at me made me feel brave.

"Okay."

"Are you sure only if you want to, you are totally in control here."

"I want too."

Walking into his bedroom it was so him band posters on the wall's, mood lighting, beautiful guitars everywhere and big bed with black bedding and a gorgeous fur throw. He sat on his bed and patted a spot next to him.

"Come here." He smiled at me sweetly.

As I sat down, he kissed me gently then more passionately until I was starting to feel the heat rising in my chest. I started to panic.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I Just haven't really done this, I haven't been with anyone since my ex, and he was the only one."

"The only one you have been with. Ever?"

"Well yeah."

"Listen I'm not going to hurt you I promise. If you let me, I would like to make you feel good. Thats all I want to do."

"I think I would like that."

"We can stop whenever you want."

The kisses became more passionate. I kept trying to match his fire, but he was definitely winning the battle.

He started leaving a trail of kisses down my neck until he got to the top of my bra. Pulling it down he started kissing and licking my nipple ever so genially it was driving me wild, and I dug my fingernails into his arm, but he didn't let up taking his hand to my other breast and giving it genital squeezes and rolling my nipple between his fingers. I let out a moan which seemed to make him happy. The kisses started traveling further down until he started tugging at the top of my skirt.

"Can I?"

"Please."

He pulled down my skirt and my panties.

"Wow you are so perfect."

Running his fingers over my pussy I was so wet I was soaking his fingers.

He pulled his fingers to his lips sucking them clean, before bringing his face to my pussy and beginning to lick up all the wetness. His hands were holding my legs, open and with every lick my legs were shaking.

Then he brought a finger to my entrance and started pushing it inside me until it was all the way, then he put another finger in until it was deep inside me, and continued to lick up all the wetness that was pooling. I started to feel lightheaded I could feel an orgasm about to hit and was hyperventilating but he grabbed my hand with his free one and held me while he sent me slamming into the wall of my orgasm.

I was shaking as he brought his face to mine.

"You are so beautiful like this."

He kissed me so sweetly it made my knees weak.

"We can stop here if you want or do you want to keep going?"

"Please don't stop I want to keep going."

He kissed me again this time with more fire and put his hand around my neck giving it squeeze.

"Can I fuck you baby?"

"I'm yours."

"Good girl."

He started kissing my neck again and nibbling on my ear which drove me mad.

He took himself in his hand and started rubbing his cock up and down my pussy getting it nice and wet then he lined himself up with my entrance. I was nervous but his kissed me softly and pushed it in a little bit then a little bit more taking his time and letting me get used to his size. Once it was all the way inside me, he pulled back out.

"Does that feel okay?"

"Yeah, it feels good"

"Such a good girl for me."

This time he lined it up with my entrance and slammed it to the hilt.

A loud moan left my lips.

"Do you like that princess; do you like it when I full you all the way up?"

"Yes, I love it, please don't stop."

"Don't worry baby this cock is all yours."

He started to relentlessly trust into me over and over I started to moan his name which made him feral he started to squeeze my breasts and then bite into my neck the pain mixed with the pleasure was too much and I was feeling the wave of another orgasm coming on.

"Are you gonna cum for me baby? I can feel you tensing around my cock. I wanna feel you cum all over my cock like a good girl."

His words in my ear were too much and the orgasm took over me

"Such a good little princess, cum for me"

I let go and felt the release of my orgasm throughout my whole body and I could feel my wetness soak him.

"Holy fuck Y/N."

The feeling of me cumming around his cock was too much for him and he lost his composure.

"Oh, fuck Y/N I'm going to cum.

"Please fill me up."

I could feel him tense inside of me and his warm cum filling me up.

He pulled out of me and pulled me into his arms giving me kisses on the forehead and playing with my hair until I fell asleep.

As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard him whisper.

"Get some rest baby, you're going to need it.

[sugolara]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Feat. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

An ongoing series.

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down its borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's too late for some people. The dead have risen and are looking for revenge.

Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, updates thursday/sunday, slow burn, cross-posted on ao3, wattpad, qoutev

BEING HEAVILY EDITED

Inspired by, ''The Walking Dead''

playlist!

" Space Junk - Wang Chung " Wolf - First Aid Kit " Into The Black - Chromatics " My Life In Rewind - Eagulls " Hush - Trills " Bad Before Good - Dayone " Run Boy Run - Woodkid " You're So Cool - Jonathan Bree " So Bored - Gorgeous Bully " Operations - Duster " Blue Light - Mazzy Star " Civilian - Wye Oak " Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers " Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N' Roses " Skyfall - Adele " Struggling Man - Emily Kinney (original: Jimmy Cliff) " The Last Pale Light In The West - Ben Nichols " Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats " Blackbird Song - Lee DeWyze " Be Gone Dull Cage - Kiev " Into Dust - Mazzy Star " Warm Shadow - Fink " Tomorrow Is a Long Time - Bob Dylan " Poison Tree - Grouper " Rhymes Of An Hour - Mazzy Star " You Are The Wilderness - Voxhaul Broadcast " Running - Delta Spirit " People, Turn around - Delta Spirit " The Lion's Roar - First Aid Kit " Pain - Boy Harsher " The Setup - Favored Nations " The Old Death - Ben Nichols " Revolution - Red Shahan " The Man Who Sold The World - Nirvana " Beautiful Mess - Balian " The Day The World Went Away - Nine Inch Nails " Mr. Splitfoot - Paris Motel " Empty Words - Bowery Electric " No Longer Making Time - Slowdive " Step Away from the Cliff - Blue-Eyed Son " Paradise - Silverberg " Take Care (To Comb Your Hair) - Ty Segall " Glad I Had a Friend - Galt MacDermot " Machine Gun - Portishead " Shadows of Planes - Duster " No Peace at All - Aldous Harding " Save Us from Ourselves - Digital Daggers " I'm No Heroine - Emily Wells " Salt in the Wound - Delta Spirit " It's All Right - Sam Cooke " To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra " 6 Underground - Sneaker Pimps " Edge Of The World - Dayshell " Bye Bye Bye - School of Seven Bells " Arsonist Lullaby - Hozier " It's All Over - Johnny Cash " The Stars Just Blink For Us - Say Hi " Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division " Knockin' On Heaven's Door - Guns N' Roses " Runnin' Down a Dream - Tom Petty " Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band " You Are Not Alone - Mavis Staples " Welcome - Harmonia & Eno ‘76’ " Hope We Can Again - Nine Inch Nails " outside - Oneheart " sleepless - Odyzon " Alesund - Sun Kil Moon " Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd " Don Abandons Alice - John Murphy " Wicked Game - Chris Isaak " Rule of Rose OST - Playing Airship " 1908 - Repulsive " I Shall Cross This River - The Black Atlantic " Easy Way Out - Low Roar " Wherever You Are - Ulrich Schnauss " Waitin' Round to Die - Townes Van Zandt

table of contents:

Season 1: Episode 1: Begin Episode 2: Not alone Episode 3: Gone but not forgotten Episode 4: You belong in this world Episode 5: Because all life is precious Episode 6: Musutafu, we'll meet again Episode 7: Izuku: I'd always thought there be more time

Season 2: Episode 8: During these two weeks Episode 9: Diopside, like your eyes Episode 10: For the first time in a long time Episode 11: Almost complete Episode 12: Determined to survive, stay alive Episode 13: Fear Episode 14: Katsuki: You are going to beat this world

Season 3: Episode 15: Away with you Episode 16: Three months ago Episode 17: Slowly withering away Episode 18: Don't die, not yet Episode 19: How long before I’m alone Episode 20: Nothing else to lose Episode 21: Shoto: Everything you would be will be gone

Season 4: Episode 22: Trouble Episode 23: For however long that'll be Episode 24: Searching Episode 25: The fallen city Episode 26: Stay who you are Episode 27: All together Episode 28: F/n: With you beside me

Season 5: Episode 29: Here Episode 30: Cruel Episode 31: Too loud Episode 32: Back on road Episode 33: All is lost Episode 34: Safe in your arms Episode 35: And so it begins Episode 36: At stake Episode 37: Sorry or whatever Episode 38: Familiar eyes

Season 6: Episode 39: A relief Episode 40: Upcoming trouble Episode 41: Never to easy Episode 42: To good for death Episode 43: Old memories Episode 44: A stroke of luck Episode 45: Be aware Episode 46: Bait Episode 47: A thump in my heart Episode 48: Belong to me Episode 49: One step closer (Towards you)

Season 7: Episode 50: Sorston Episode 51: Tenderness Episode 52: Here to stay Episode 53: The start Episode 54: Crushed Episode 55: Reporting to duty Episode 56: Good morning and goodbye Episode 57: An end to sorrow, grief & regret Episode 58: On the move Episode 59: Confirmation Episode 60: The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

Season 8: Episode 61: Not who you were Episode 62: Just you and me Episode 63: The Plaza Episode 64: The other side Episode 65: To be ready Episode 66: You're here Episode 67: So long, my dear Episode 68: Discard me Episode 69: Secrets you'll soon share Episode 70: I wish you nothing but the best Episode 71: For as long as I live Episode 72: Goodness and kindness can't survive, at least not in the world I dreamed of

Season 9: Episode 73: I'll see you in a while Episode 74: So wait for me Episode 75: Hushed secrets

To be continued...

Book one: Welcome To The New World Book two: To The One You Left Behind

taglist: @mikeyswifie @k0z3me @sky-angel101 @stevenknightmarc @nahwajinswhore @mn-0p @a-helen113 @azrral @mary-jinx @chixkadee @flowers-4-you @im-the-groot

[gvfgal]

Bet I Can

Danny Wagner x reader

18+ so minors SCRAM!!!

Content Warnings: sexual content, squirting, slight overstimulation, fingering (f rec.), oral (f rec.), dirty talk, cheeky Danny... I think thats it.

A/n: From a wonderful ask about Danny making reader ~squirt~ for the first time. Couldn’t get the idea out of my head so I stayed up writing this little delicious blurb.

Word Count: 2.5k

                · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Have you ever squirted before?”

The question was completely random. Danny and you had retired for the night, both of you indulged in your own books in the comfortable silence of your shared bedroom.

You were beginning to grow tired, thinking about finding a stopping point for the night, that was until he hit you with that bomb of a question.

You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to see that all of his attention was directly on you, his book shut and in his lap.

“Geez, what are you reading over there,” you tried laughing it off.

“Brave New World, Aldous Huxley.”

“Funny, I must have skipped the chapter on squirting.”

Your eyes had found your own book again, flipping the page over listlessly, although you were no longer actually reading, just hoping that if you ignored the topic, he’d drop it.

You weren’t uncomfortable by any means, this was your boyfriend after all. But this was a conversation you weren’t sure how to navigate, you didn’t know what answer he was expecting, or what his reaction would be.

“Haha, very funny,” his tone was unamused yet still playful. He sat his book on the nightstand before rolling over on his stomach between your legs, looking up at you with those beautiful brown eyes of his, those same eyes that made you fall for him many months ago.

“I’m serious, have you?”

You closed your own book now, leaving your finger tucked between pages so you wouldn’t lose your place before looking down at him with a teasing glare.

“What makes you ask?”

His long fingers began playing with the tattered bottom of your DIY crop top as he gave an indifferent shrug.

“I was just thinking about how I love watching you cum. Not just the faces you make, although that’s wonderful too,” his lips placed a delicate kiss on your stomach, “but the way you drip, and leak, all over me, it’s so beautiful y/n.”

Okay, he had your attention now. This was slightly out of character for your Daniel. Sure, when it came to sex he knew exactly what to do and how to do it, but he’d never been so forward with something so crass before, especially out of the blue. It turned you on to a significant degree, but you wouldn’t let him know that just yet.

Mimicking his earlier action, you turned and sat your book on your respective nightstand as he continued to talk.

“And I was just thinking how incredibly sexy it would be to see you squirt, to feel it.” 

He kissed your stomach again, only this time he allowed his tongue to make an appearance, gliding it along your skin slowly until he sealed it over with a peck on your belly button.

You lifted your hand to rub in his scalp, hair still slightly damp from the shower he’d taken only an hour ago.

“So I’m guessing you weren’t really over there reading then?”, you joked, and he looked up at you with the eyes of a toddler who had been caught red handed.

You giggled, “what’s gotten into you tonight, Daniel? I hardly recognize the man that lays with me.”

His eyes rolled, though he wasn’t annoyed at all, and he sat up to look you directly in the eyes.

“Come on, doll, why are you avoiding the question? You don’t have to be shy, it's just me.”

You pulled your knees up to your chest, ducking your face between them to hide the blush that began to spread over your face.

Slowly, you shook your head.

“No?”, he clarified leaning closer to you by just an inch.

“No,” you finally spoke up, only it was muffled by your legs that you refused to move away from your face.

Danny reached up and tenderly pulled your legs back down, letting his thumb skate over them. 

As you looked into his eyes, you felt foolish for being so embarrassed about the conversation. This was Daniel Wagner, your gentle giant, no matter how lewd he was at the moment, you had absolutely no reason to be scared.

“No I haven’t,” you spoke up a little louder, straightening your back a bit, “I don’t even know if I can.”

“What makes you think that?”, he asked genuinely, his hands still stroking along your skin.

You trembled as you inhaled, the heat in the room and in your own body beginning to grow more and more by the second. 

“I- I just…” you thought on it for a moment, “I don’t think that my body could…”

A breathy moan floated out of you as he began to nibble at your earlobe, his warm breath dancing across the expanse of your neck.

“See that’s where we differ, y/n. Because I think it could. I think I could make you.”

This was a version of Danny you could definitely get used to. Confident. Almost demanding, but still just sweet enough. It had you unraveling, already beginning to pool in your underwear (which weren’t the sexiest, simple black cotton bikinis, but you weren’t expecting this tonight.)

“Yeah?”, you shuddered out the question as he maneuvered you onto your back.

He hovered over you, his long coils framing your face and a love struck smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, I do.”

His long fingers began rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, eyebrows shooting up slightly at the discovery of how wet you already were.

And God, were his eyes striking when they found yours again, 4 shades darker and shimmering with mischief.

You whined rather pathetically and ground your body down onto his fingers, chasing more friction than what he was giving you, and that cheeky bastard loved it.

“You want me to show you, doll? Show you how I can make this pussy really cry?”

Truthfully, he could’ve done that just by continuing talking the way he was, you were sure of it, but right now, you needed to feel something, anything from him.

“Show me, Danny,” you nodded, completely giving your body over to him to do as he pleased.

He sat up on his knees, palming his semi hard erection through his sweats with a low groan, one that shot another wave of heat straight to your cunt.

“How do you want it baby? With my fingers? My mouth?”, he gripped his member a little tighter, “my cock?”

You were staring up at him like he was some sort of ethereal being, because in that moment he truly was one, and you needed him badly.

Sitting up on your elbows, you gripped his shirt tightly in your fists, a look of desire met with a cocky grin on his face.

“I don’t care, Daniel. Just give me something, anything baby please.”

He lifted his head to look down his nose at you, God that perfect fucking nose.

“I love it when you beg,” his voice was darker now as he continued tugging at himself, and it sent a chill up your spine, not out of fear, but out of pure desperation.

“Do it again, beg me to make you squirt, doll.” 

You were practically drooling from your cunt now, this domineering aura that Danny was exuding had you just about ready to do anything he asked. He could tell you to do a somersault and you would.

But all he wanted you to do was beg, and you’d do it gladly.

“Please,” your voice was but a whisper now, “please daddy. Make me squirt. Show me you can do it.”

His hand lovingly stroked your cheek, but in a split second, he had you in a tight grasp, pulling you up to meet his face.

He crashed his lips onto yours, a wild, untamed kiss before pulling away, his eyes boring into you, “as you wish.”

You fell back to the bed as he let you go, pulling his shirt over his head and using the hair tie around his finger to tie his hair back, a sure sign that you were in for something serious.

“All you have to do,” he began as he pulled your underwear down, sending a quick slap to your slick center, “is listen to exactly what I tell you, okay?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Okay?” It was more pointed this time, his eyes looked at you in warning.

“Yes sir. I’ll listen.”

“Good.”

Nothing happened for several moments, his orbs were transfixed on your wet folds, and you, a panting mess of pure desire below him.

Without warning, Danny spit down onto your cunt, and you flinched and gasped at the erotic display. He’d never done it before, but you’d make sure he would do it again.

He lowered himself onto his stomach, back in the position he was early as he mixed your fluids with his own using two of his digits.

You rocked your hips down onto his fingers, your body practically screaming for more, bringing your own hands up to your chest and rolling your erect nipples between your fingers.

“Just lay back and relax, okay? Let me get you there.”

A response wasn’t necessary, he was ready, and he knew you were too.

Lowering his head, Danny began licking at your center, focusing mainly on your clit, inserting two fingers into your waiting hole.

You lurched forward with a loud, drawn out moan, one hand shooting into his damp curls and tugging.

Danny groaned into you, splaying his tongue out to kitten lick your swollen nub.

His fingers were angled perfectly, repeatedly hitting that delicious spongey spot hidden deep inside of you, and your eyes crossed at the mixture of his digits and his mouth working you fiercely.

“Danny what the fuck? Oh my god,” you sobbed. Plenty of times in the past Danny has eaten you out and fingered you simultaneously, but never had it felt this good. He was working like he had something to prove, and you couldn’t contain all the noises that streamed from you. 

His tongue continued to work, dipping down to tease at your hole before coming up and showing unwavering attention to your clit again.

“You taste like fucking heaven y/n,” he lifted his head to look at your fucked out expression, “it should be a sin, really.”

His fingers moved in a particular way that caused you to wail out into the empty house, and Danny’s mouth dropped open slightly at the sight.

“You’re gonna make me cum already, daddy. Fuck.”

Danny nodded, signaling to you that it was okay to do so as his mouth met your center again.

He nibbled at your clit gently with his teeth, something he’d never done before, and it sent you into a complete spiral. You were squirming frantically, chasing your end, and with a few final pumps of his fingers, and a couple deliberate flicks of his tongue, you came undone around him.

You cursed, and moaned, and groaned, calling out to him in the haze of your orgasm, the grip you had in his hair tightening, and through it all, he never stopped, not even for a moment.

He never even slowed his movements, the sounds of him devouring you battling the sounds of your state of bliss.

Once it had completely washed over you, you tried your hardest to bring your head up to look at him, and his eyes were primal.

“Danny wha- what..” you tried your hardest to inquire, but it was no use.

You could barely make out the action of him nodding, but you know he did, and to your surprise, he slipped a third finger into your clenching hole.

He pulled his mouth away, replacing his tongue with two fingers on his other hand so he could talk you through it.

“Don’t fight it doll, okay? Just let it happen.”

Your head fell back on the pillow, the overstimulation starting to catch up to you.

“Danny I have to… wait I have to..”

“No baby,” he sent a long lick to your pussy, “you’re okay, just trust me.”

“It feels so good, fuckkkkk,” you cried out to him. As sensitive as you were, you didn’t want him to stop, you could feel another orgasm approaching, but this one felt different.

“I know it does doll,” he mumbled into you, “just breathe. Let it come to you.”

You nodded in compliance, trusting him fully.

His tongue resumed flicking along your delicate clit relentlessly, his fingers keeping perfect time, and before you knew it, you were once again teetering on the edge.

“I’m gonna cum again, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Squirt for me angel,” he growled between his licks, “I can feel it. Feel that cunt tightening around me. I know you can do it. Show me you can,” he threw your words back at you.

Done with talking, he let his mouth do the work, he knew he had you on a hook, it was all up to you to let it happen.

Your entire body began to shake, and on an exhale, your vision went completely white.

The only tell on what was happening, was the dampness you felt pooling in the sheets around you, and the pure satisfaction in Danny’s voice.

“Look at that, look how fucking gorgeous, baby. Making such a fucking mess.”

His fingers moved at an unbelievably quick pace, and had you not been so caught up in your rapture, you would’ve been a tad embarrassed at the sound of your release and Danny’s digits combined. 

It was filthy to say the least, the splashing sound that took over the room, but so delicious at the same time.

You thought you’d never come down from the feelings that engulfed you, but through the blur you could hear Danny’s gentle voice cooing praises to you, coaxing you back down to earth slowly but surely.

“There you go baby, you’re okay. Just breathe for me.”

His movements were much slower now, and after a few moments, you willed your eyes to open, met with a look of enchantment on your boyfriend's face.

You fought to catch your breath, “did I do it?”

Danny’s smile was warm as he nodded, “yeah doll, you did.”

In reality, it was a stupid question, his chest was glistening and the sheets were completely soaked. Even the tips of his hair were dampened.

“You should’ve seen it, you looked so stunning, never seen anything like it before. You did so good.”

You blushed at his praise, “well maybe next time we’ll have to get it on camera yeah?” 

He beamed down at you, and you returned your best smile, exhaustion taking over you.

“Now that’s something I can get behind.”

He planted a sugary kiss on your mouth, the taste of yourself making you whimper.

“Tastes good, huh?”, he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, “wait right here, I’ll get you all cleaned up my love.”

You nodded, “what about the sheets? They’re ruined.”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

As he stood from the bed, you couldn’t ignore the large imprint that swung loosely in his sweats.

“And what about you, and your…” you gestured towards it.

He looked down and chuckled, “I’ll take care of that, too. Your mission is complete tonight, soldier.” 

You laughed rather loudly at that, before turning serious again, “you sure? I feel kinda bad, Dan.”

“Don’t worry baby, I got everything I wanted tonight, trust me, I’ll handle it.”

He turned to walk towards the bathroom, but stopped and turned back to you with a smirk, “and maybe I’ll let you watch.”

[writeleg1ant]

The Rise of Dystopian Literature: Why We Are Drawn to Stories of Dark and Disturbing Futures

Outline: I. Introduction - Definition of Dystopian Literature - The Growing Popularity of Dystopian Themes II. Historical Roots of Dystopian Literature - Early Examples and Influences - Evolution of Dystopian Narratives III. Characteristics of Dystopian Novels - Common Themes and Elements - Exploration of Societal Issues IV. Impact of Dystopian Literature - Shaping Cultural and Social Discourse - Influence on Popular Culture and Media V. Influential Dystopian Novels - 1984 by George Orwell - Brave New World by Aldous Huxley - The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins - The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood VI. Themes Explored in Dystopian Literature - Surveillance and Loss of Privacy - Totalitarian Governments - Struggle for Individuality and Freedom VII. The Allure of Dark and Disturbing Futures - Human Fascination with Worst-Case Scenarios - Reflection of Contemporary Fears and Anxieties VIII. Dystopian Literature in Modern Education - Inclusion in School Curriculums - Encouraging Critical Thinking IX. Dystopian Literature vs. Reality - Parallels with Contemporary Issues - Warning Signs and Societal Reflection X. The Role of Technology in Dystopian Narratives - Surveillance Technology in Literature - Real-World Implications XI. The Power of Dystopian Imagination - Inspiring Change and Activism - Catalyst for Social Awareness XII. Criticisms and Controversies Surrounding Dystopian Literature - Accusations of Dystopian Fatigue - Ethical Concerns Regarding Graphic Content XIII. Conclusion - Recap of Dystopian Literature's Impact - Continuous Relevance and Future Prospects XIV. FAQs (Five Unique Questions) - Is dystopian literature suitable for all age groups? - How does dystopian literature differ from other speculative fiction genres? - Can dystopian novels serve as a form of social commentary? - Are there any emerging trends in contemporary dystopian literature? - What makes dystopian literature a powerful tool for discussing societal issues? The Rise of Dystopian Literature: Why We Are Drawn to Stories of Dark and Disturbing Futures Introduction Dystopian literature, characterized by nightmarish visions of the future, has witnessed a significant surge in popularity in recent years. This genre explores unsettling societal structures, oppressive governments, and the human struggle for survival. As we delve into the rise of dystopian literature, it's essential to understand the roots of this captivating genre and its enduring impact on readers. Historical Roots of Dystopian Literature Dystopian narratives have historical roots, with early examples found in works like "The Time Machine" by H.G. Wells. Over time, dystopian literature evolved, with authors weaving intricate tales that reflected contemporary fears and anxieties. The genre became a powerful medium to comment on societal issues, offering both cautionary tales and imaginative escapes. Characteristics of Dystopian Novels Dystopian literature shares common themes such as totalitarian regimes, loss of individual freedoms, and surveillance. These novels often serve as a lens through which readers can examine and critique societal norms. The exploration of dystopian worlds allows for a deeper understanding of the human condition and the consequences of unchecked power. Impact of Dystopian Literature Beyond entertainment, dystopian literature shapes cultural and social discourse. Influencing popular culture, movies, and television, dystopian narratives often transcend the pages of books, impacting how we perceive and navigate our own world. This influence extends to education, where dystopian novels are integrated into curriculums to provoke critical thinking. Influential Dystopian Novels Certain dystopian novels have left an indelible mark on literature and society. George Orwell's "1984," Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World," Suzanne Collins' "The Hunger Games," and Margaret Atwood's "The Handmaid's Tale" stand out as pillars of the genre, each exploring unique facets of dystopian themes. Themes Explored in Dystopian Literature Dystopian literature delves into recurring themes like surveillance, totalitarian governments, and the struggle for individuality. These themes resonate because they reflect genuine societal concerns, making dystopian narratives relatable and thought-provoking. The Allure of Dark and Disturbing Futures Readers are drawn to dystopian literature because it offers a glimpse into worst-case scenarios. The genre taps into human fascination with disaster, providing a space to explore fears and anxieties in a controlled setting. By examining these dark futures, readers can confront and, to some extent, prepare for potential challenges. Dystopian Literature in Modern Education The inclusion of dystopian literature in school curriculums enhances education by encouraging critical thinking. Students analyze complex societal structures, question authority, and draw parallels between dystopian narratives and real-world issues, fostering a deeper understanding of the complexities of human society. Dystopian Literature vs. Reality Dystopian literature often mirrors contemporary issues, acting as a warning sign for potential societal pitfalls. The genre prompts readers to reflect on the present, recognizing parallels between fictional dystopias and real-world challenges. This connection fosters awareness and, in some cases, inspires action. The Role of Technology in Dystopian Narratives Advancements in technology have become integral to dystopian narratives, with surveillance and loss of privacy playing central roles. Dystopian authors explore the implications of technology on society, offering insights into potential future scenarios that resonate with our current dependence on digital surveillance. The Power of Dystopian Imagination Dystopian literature goes beyond entertainment; it inspires change and activism. By presenting alternative futures, authors challenge readers to question societal norms, fostering a sense of agency to shape a better world. Dystopian imagination becomes a catalyst for social awareness and, potentially, positive transformation. Criticisms and Controversies Surrounding Dystopian Literature Despite its influence, dystopian literature faces criticisms, including accusations of dystopian fatigue and concerns about graphic content. Some argue that the genre's prevalence may desensitize readers to its warnings. Ethical considerations regarding the portrayal of violence and distressing scenarios also spark debates within literary circles.

books that changed my life

Embarking on a literary journey is not merely an act of reading; it's a transformative odyssey that has the power to shape our perspectives, challenge beliefs, and leave an indelible mark on our souls. As I reflect on the books that changed my life, I find myself immersed in a kaleidoscope of narratives that have altered the course of my understanding and enriched the tapestry of my experiences. One such life-altering encounter was with Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning." This profound exploration of human resilience, drawn from Frankl's experiences in Nazi concentration camps, instilled in me a newfound appreciation for the strength of the human spirit and the pursuit of purpose even in the face of unimaginable adversity. Haruki Murakami's "Norwegian Wood" served as a poignant companion during moments of introspection. Its exploration of love, loss, and the delicate threads that connect us all resonated with the nuanced emotions I grappled with, offering solace and a deeper understanding of the human condition. The philosophical musings of Hermann Hesse in "Siddhartha" guided me on a quest for self-discovery and spiritual enlightenment. The protagonist's journey echoed my own quest for meaning and purpose, prompting moments of introspection that reverberated long after the final page. "1984" by George Orwell, a dystopian masterpiece, acted as a stark warning about the perils of unchecked power and the erosion of individual freedoms. Its chilling portrayal of a totalitarian regime left an indelible imprint, fostering a vigilant awareness of societal structures and the importance of safeguarding liberty. Each book, a literary gem, has left an enduring legacy on my consciousness, shaping my thoughts, values, and understanding of the world. The transformative power of literature lies not just in the words on the page but in the profound impact it has on the reader's journey through life. Conclusion In conclusion, the rise of dystopian literature is not merely a trend but a reflection of our collective fascination with exploring the unknown, challenging societal norms, and contemplating the consequences of unchecked power. The enduring appeal of dystopian narratives lies in their ability to provoke thought, inspire change, and serve as cautionary tales for the complex world we inhabit. FAQs (Five Unique Questions) What are the 5 traits of dystopian literature? Dystopian literature manifests through vivid characteristics that paint a bleak picture of the future. Typically, these traits include oppressive government control, societal dehumanization, environmental degradation, surveillance, and the suppression of individual freedoms. These elements collectively create a nightmarish vision of a world gone astray. What is the most famous dystopian text ever written? Undoubtedly, George Orwell's "1984" stands as the epitome of dystopian literature. Published in 1949, Orwell's masterpiece envisions a totalitarian regime, Big Brother's omnipresent surveillance, and the manipulation of truth, leaving an indelible mark on the genre and society's collective consciousness. What describes dystopian? Dystopian, derived from the Greek words "dys," meaning bad, and "topos," meaning place, encapsulates an imagined society characterized by oppressive social, political, and environmental conditions. These bleak settings often serve as cautionary tales, exploring the consequences of unchecked power and societal complacency. What are the 4 types of dystopias? Dystopias come in various shades, with common types being totalitarian, corporate, ecological, and technocratic. Totalitarian dystopias feature oppressive governments, corporate dystopias showcase unchecked corporate power, ecological dystopias depict environmental collapse, and technocratic dystopias explore the dark side of technological advancement. What is a book that has changed society? Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin" is a pivotal work that significantly altered societal perspectives. Published in 1852, this anti-slavery novel ignited fervent discussions, heightened awareness of the horrors of slavery, and played a substantial role in galvanizing the abolitionist movement. How has literature changed the world? Literature acts as a mirror and catalyst for societal change. It sparks critical conversations, challenges norms, and fosters empathy. Books like "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee and "The Diary of Anne Frank" have influenced public discourse, fostering social awareness and advocating for justice. What is the most influential book in American history? "The Federalist Papers," a collection of essays by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, profoundly influenced American history. Penned in the late 18th century, these essays played a crucial role in shaping the U.S. Constitution, providing insights into the framers' intentions and political philosophy. Which book is the most powerful book in the world? "The Bible" is widely considered one of the most powerful and influential books globally. Its impact transcends religious boundaries, shaping cultural, ethical, and literary landscapes. Its narratives and teachings have left an enduring imprint on human history and continue to inspire countless individuals worldwide. Read the full article

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

Another week, gone. We’re picking up the grandkids this morning so I’ll have to get this put together quickly this morning. Sorry, grandpa duty calls! 👴🏼

I’m finishing this off in the car as we go to get them. 🤣

Hope you enjoy the links.

Max Boot • The Washington Post

The GOP’s abandonment of Ukraine makes me ashamed to be an American

This is gut wrenching. Ukraine is standing between Russia and Europe. That nutter in Russia isn’t going to stop at Ukraine. He’ll go until someone can stop him.

Come on G.O.P., get your crap together and defend democracy. Oh, right, you no longer care about that.

Ananya Bhattacharya • Quartz

Spotify is ending 2023 with its third and biggest layoffs of the year

Man, 2023 has been a crummy year for tech workers. Here’s hoping 2024 is much, much, better.

James Verniere • Boston Herald

“Leave the World Behind,” which is based on a 2020 novel by American author Rumaan Alam and produced by among others Barrack and Michelle Obama, is nothing less than a modern-day version of Alfred Hitchcock’s unforgettable 1963 hit “The Birds.”

I watched this last night and I really liked it. If you have Netflix check it out.

Ashur Cabrera

Once upon a time — way back in, like, 2004 or something — I used to turn my nose up at sites that served an RSS feed with only an excerpt. It felt, I think I would have said, like a sleazy way to drive clicks. (“Information wants to be free!” etc. 🙄) Twenty years on I still read a ton from RSS feeds, but I found recently that I’m starting to thaw on that position quite a bit.

Ashur, what happened to the curmudgeon in you? 😃

As a developer of a feed reader I get request to display the full article and it’s what I prefer so I don’t have to visit the website. That’s a feature on the feature list for Stream. One of these days.

Bart Decrem • Mammoth Blog

Introducing Mammoth 2: The easiest way quit Twitter/X for good and join Mastodon

It’s nice to see developers strive to make Mastodon work for old Twitter, non techie, users to get started with Mastodon. That’s been the biggest barrier to entry. Folks can’t figure out how to join and they also tend to like recommendations.

Jacob Kastrenakes • The Verge

Earlier this year, a developer slid into Eric Migicovsky’s DMs with a spectacular claim: that he had reverse engineered Apple’s iMessage, allowing any device — Android, Windows, whatever — to send messages as a blue bubble. Migicovsky didn’t believe what he was reading.

This is an interesting read. Bravo to the 16-year old who figured it out!

Daring Fireball

But Overcast does exist, and it’s the app where most people with exquisite taste in UI are listening to podcasts.

Poor Castro has languished and definitely doesn’t have the geek recognition Overcast does. I’d imagine that’s why it’s the number one podcast player in John’s stats.

As far as UI preferences and paradigm go, Castro fits me better.

I’d love to be able to buy it from Tiny and keep working on it. I’ve already shared my opinion on the matter.

Aldous J Pennyfarthing • Daily Kos

House Speaker Mike Johnson, whose grand vision for America includes transforming every uterus in the country into a Pez dispenser, is convinced he’s the North American Moses who will lead his people to the Promised Land.

Yeah, this guy wants a theocracy. No thank you.

Sure, the Christians might agree with you but what about Jews, Muslims, Buddhists? Name your religion. It’s not right. Our First Amendment was setup to protect us from a theocracy, but we all know the G.O.P. doesn’t really care about the Constitution.

Susana Polo • Polygon

The Comixology app, the mobile incarnation of the digital comics platform owned by Amazon since 2014, has finally shuffled off this mortal coil.

I’ve had ComiXology for a number of years but I never went for the subscription. I just don’t read enough. I don’t see this as a bad move. Comics are just another type of book and the Kindle App is fine for reading.

ESPN

While four teams are celebrating the opportunity to play for a national title on the field, undefeated ACC champion Florida State is on the outside, becoming the first unbeaten Power 5 conference winner to ever miss out on the College Football Playoff.

This broke a lot of hearts and it’s a real shame the 12 team — why not 16 — playoff wasn’t in place this year.

Of course I say that and my own thoughts on the matter didn’t include Florida State.

I also thought Georgia should have been in. Off by one error. We got Alabama from the SEC instead.

Apple

Apple TV+ today shared the first images from “Constellation,” a new eight-part, conspiracy-based psychological thriller drama starring Noomi Rapace (“The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” “You Won’t Be Alone”) and Emmy Award nominee Jonathan Banks (“Breaking Bad,” “Better Call Saul”).

So, yeah, I’m looking forward to this! Anything with Noomi Rapace in it is good in my book.

Danijela Vrzan

Let’s implement a custom dark mode color in our app - dark blue.

Really nice SwiftUI article on how to change the colors used for Light and Dark mode for your app. Well done.

[a-regular-ol-pill]

God of love and freedom reader x Aldous

Yes i just think narratively and emotionally they’re good for eachother

Emotionally and narratively, YES! Though, there would be complications on outside folk's opinions between them.

[tvseries-writings]

Could you do an introverted Reader that is trying to find time to be alone to recharge their batteries, but being at the compound around a bunch of extroverted heroes it’s hard to find that quiet time. R is at their breaking point when wanda or Natasha recognizes something is wrong. She doesn’t know how to help R but tries…

Everything is too much

Wandanat x reader (platonic)

As Aldous Huxley said: “The more powerful and original a mind is, the more it will orient itself towards the religion of solitude”. And now, after twenty years of total - necessary - solitude - you can't help but think that Huxley was talking a lot of bullshit. You are not original and you are not powerful, you are simply introverted.

Many compare being introverted to being asocial; It's not absolutely true. The introvert, like you, necessarily needs solitude. It has an internal battery of conversation and endurance for the rest of mankind that discharges as it socializes. The unsocial, on the contrary, chooses to be; he chooses to isolate himself, perhaps not tolerating the people around him. And hell, how could you blame him? The world sucks.

You have never had a problem with your being introverted; for many, many years, you have lived peacefully with yourself and with other people, socializing the bare minimum and when it was necessary. Now, however, finding some personal space and time for oneself or even just an ounce of privacy when surrounded by a bunch of extroverts - you love them, mind you - heroes, is starting to get stressful and parties, all of them. damn evenings, which you must necessarily participate in, are becoming torture. No, in fact, torture would be far better. Better than people upon people, in a confined space, with music piercing your ears and regret shrinking, like being crushed by a truck.

You can't take it anymore. You tried, really. For three nights in a row, after a particularly tough mission, Tony throws a party. You get dressed, put on a shirt and a pair of jeans and you put a smile on your face as soon as you cross the threshold of your room, ready for another night of endurance.

Damn, your battery is fucking dead. You don't think you can take much longer; not a party from Tony, not another Thor prank with Mjolnir on the toilet lid and not even Peter's gab or a lecture from Cap. You absolutely can't stand it anymore. You're about to explode and you won't be able to control yourself when that happens. And you fear it's about to happen.

.…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….

You make a small smile, putting on your headphones and opening the book you hold in your hands. You've been trying to finish reading “Ten Little Niggers” for a week but someone has always interrupted you, in one way or another and now, finally, you can enjoy your hours of freedom.

The compund is silent, the others have all gone on missions and you pretended to be sick just to have time for yourself. Obviously it wasn't a complicated mission, otherwise you wouldn't have done it. Without Tony and Steve arguing, Barner on the verge of a nervous breakdown - a bit like you - Thor and his idiotic jokes and Peter's never-shutting-down, you can finally relax. Thank god both Natasha and Wanda almost seem to understand your need for time so they have never been a problem and you love them for it.

You stretch out your legs, spread them out on the sofa and immerse yourself in reading.

You don't know how long it's been when your headphones are suddenly ripped off hard and the noise comes back to crowd your mind and all the space around you.

Tony gives you a smirk as he swings the headphones in his hands. He still has the Iron Man suit on and you don't think you ever wanted to take that grin off his face like right now. Maybe with a little violence, why not.

"Lady y / n! How barbaric it is to read a book, a video game is much better for this mortal life of yours. Have you ever played Fortnite? Do you know that I am the best? "

Thor smiles, raising both eyebrows multiple times as he swings Moljnir from hand to hand, again and again.

"Miss y / n, you can't understand what happened, we were-"

You close your eyes, your hands clench into fists and take deep breaths, you just wanted a little peace. An hour or two to finish that damn book. You didn't want anything else, just two goddamn hours.

You hear the voices of Wanda and Natasha above those of the boys; their voices reach you muffled, you are too concentrated, you do not know if not to freak out or simply to try not to burst into tears and curl up on yourself. You can wait for that.

"Stark, get out of here"

Wanda's angry, stern voice makes the smirk disappear from the billionaire's face. Tony raises his eyebrow and is about to speak again but the red eyes of the Sokovian make him desist from doing so, dragging the little boy, Thor and even Steve with him.

As soon as they leave the hall and close the door, Natasha kneels in front of you, her worried gaze rests on your figure. Your body is tense and your chest rises and falls rapidly. Natasha and Wanda exchange a worried look, she nods and the Sokovian barely nods, moving closer to you too.

"Hey y / n, can I touch you?"

Natasha whispers, her voice is weak. You don't think you've ever felt her so worried and… sweet, almost comfortable.

You shake your head, your hands clench even more and both Natasha and Wanda notice it. You love those two girls but right now you really need some space for yourself and the fact that they are so close doesn't help.

"C-can you move away a little, please?"

You are ashamed to say those words; you know they just want to help you but you think you are crazy, you feel like a trapped animal and you don't like it. You know, you know they just want to help you but they can't really do something concrete ... the only thing they can do is leave you alone for a while.

It takes them about twenty seconds to accept that request, then they take a couple of steps backwards, at the same time, as if linked by the same indissoluble thread that represents wanting to make you feel better.

When I am about two meters away from you, your chest seems to lift a little; you still feel their gazes on you but at least you don't feel like you're choking anymore.

"What is happening?" Wanda lights up a small smile, one of understanding and affection, even though she can't hide her concern for one of her closest friends.

You play with the ring that you hold on the index finger of your left hand; You spin it three times - number three has always been your favorite number - and you have to wait a few minutes, in which the two of them wait patiently, without saying a word, before you can find the courage and strength to speak.

"I can't take it anymore, I'm tired of Tony and his parties, Thor with that damn hammer, Cap who doesn't stop complaining about anything other than what he was used to, Peter who does nothing but talk ... I I can't take it anymore, I just want some silence and time for myself; even two hours, I can't go on like this, it's too much me- I feel like I'm dying, I can't, I need a break I ... m-I'm sorry not- "

Tears fall copiously from your tears and your body is shaken by sobs.

Natasha and Wanda look at you, the pain of not having helped a person they care about is etched in their eyes. They hate each other for not having noticed it long ago, for not doing something ... for not keeping you from getting to the breaking point.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's not your fault, it's okay y / n, breathe"

Wanda tries to calm your breathing but she can't. You seem to be totally somewhere else; it feels like your chest is on fire and even if you can see the two Avengers moving towards you, it's like you don't really feel them. Natasha's lips move but you hear nothing but silence. And then the image of the two of them in panic and the impression of your throat closing, without letting you breathe, are replaced by total darkness.

As soon as you open your eyes and you feel the softness of the surface you are lying on, you know you are in your room. The sun's rays penetrate the room despite the curtains, it is probably ten in the morning, given their intensity. The pain in your chest reminds you of everything that happened the day before and you feel bad at the very thought of how the situation unfolded, how you made Nat and Wanda worry and-

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when, as you are trying to get out of bed, your hand touches something smooth and small. You turn to the mysterious object and see a sheet of paper placed on the blankets next to you.

You take it with delicacy, the same with which you pick a flower from the ground. The sheet is folded in half, with an almost obsessive care, in fact the parts coincide perfectly with each other.

You push the upper part with your index finger - or at least what you believe to be the upper part - and you begin to read what is written. And those words, written with an impeccable handwriting, without smudging, on that simple sheet of paper, can't help but make you smile.

Dear y / n,

we are sorry we weren't there when you woke up (ah and never do something like that with us again, we are frightened) but we preferred to leave you your space. None of us will be around for a whole week; do not worry about anything we will take care of everything and enjoy this moment of tranquility. You deserve it and the guys are sorry they did the way they did, they promised they will get better - Nat threatened them, you had to see their faces - and for whatever you need, call us.

We love you,

Wanda and Nat

P.s: Idiots greet you

You let yourself fall again on the bed; you fold the card carefully and place it on the bedside table to your right. Your head rests on the pillow and your eyes close. Nobody screaming, talking, arguing ... finally a bit of silence. When you love those two fucking girls.

Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think, requests are always open and I leave you my ko-fi link in description. Have a great day!

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Taglist: @mmmmokdok @chaekhan @lightwhoranoutoflight

[the-wretched-and-joyful]

Secrets will hurt

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

word count: 2K

genre: angst (is that even a genre? idk)

warning: drinking

A/N: i’m scared cause writing for Andrew is so daunting, and it was done for a friend, and based on my idea of soulmate world, and idk if it’s good (probably isn’t) so yeah! let me know if you like it, thanks for reading.

It was wrong, and he knew it.

Compared to everyone in the world he was privileged. He was in a position where he could travel the world and find his soul mate, and yet here he was, knowing full well who his soul mate was, and pretending to not.

All because he wanted to fuel the fire that helped him write music.

As the girl who he was destined to be with kept going on about how wrong he was for thinking the world is going to end up like his favorite book 1984, and how clearly it was going to end up like Aldous Huxley’s A brave new world, all he could think was how he was wrong and how he should be telling her that he was her soul mate.

‘God, I’m going to hell!’ he thought to himself.

“Andreww, you are spacing out.” She accuses in a sing-song voice. She sang everything, he noticed. Which was not weird, cause she was a singer, just like him. Most singers don’t sing unless they have to. She on the other hand probably learned to sing before she started to talk.

“I’m not spacing out, I just think your theory is absolutely ridiculous.” He laughs at the face she makes.

“It’s not ridiculous.” She sighs and flops back on the studio couch, rubbing her forehead, “I’m so tired.”

“You’re spending too much time here, when did you last leave the studio? have you even seen the light of the sun today?” he mocked lightly, but he was also worried.

“Who needs the sun? I need to finish this song.” She scoffs, standing up and stretching her limbs, and once again Andrew was in awe of her.

It was nothing superficial, and yet everything about her appearance was like a flame to his moth-like heart. From her hair (which she kept really long) to her long, yet calloused fingers, much like his own, and then her mark, gracing the underside of her right arm, looking as tender as a flower bud just about to bloom. The thought of the mark always created a lump in his throat, a lump of guilt, and shame, and something much darker and sinister. He couldn’t quite catch this darker feeling or understand the meaning of it, and yet it was there.

“You’re spacing out again, you are supposed to help me dammit!” she throws her pencil at him, which bounces harmlessly off of the wall above his head.

“Poor aim.” He checked the sheets of paper in front of him, ‘you basically have one line of the lyrics down, and you’ve been in the studio for two weeks, what is going on?”

She sits down on the couch beside him again, shoulders slumped “I don’t know it’s like a writer’s block or something. Help me!” she puts her head on his shoulder.

“You got some cheek coming to me for help, with that blocked head of yours.” He mocks again but starts to go through sheets again. “Why is this song so important?”

“It’s something I’d like to sing to you know….” She rolls her hands in the air.

“To whom?” he mimics her hand movements.

“To this person.” She points to her mark “if, you know I ever find them.”

“overrated.” He rolls his eyes but secretly feeling the weight of all the guilt on his shoulder.

“Come on, you must believe it. You never talk about your mark, can I see it?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it, and no you can’t” he tried to sound stern, “it’s in a personal space.”

“Is it on your, you know…” she wiggles her eyebrow.

“Do you want my help or not?” he raised one eyebrow, trying extremely hard not to laugh at her ridiculous expression.

“Yes of course.” She quiets down and they both get to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t you ever want to find them? You know, the whole soulmate thing?” he couldn’t remember for how many times she had asked him this. But he would indulge her, one more time.

“No. Because, right now, I can sing of my feelings about how it is to live without a soul mate in hopes of finding them. But when I do find them, what would I sing about?”

“You can sing of how great finding your soulmate is, once you find them.” She bumps her shoulder with him, almost knocking herself off of her feet in the process, but he catches her. “Sorry, so yes, as I was saying, talk about the great all-encompassing love. It’ll be nice.”

“No, I think angst love songs about waiting will sell more.” He laughs, getting nervous by the second.

“When did Andrew Hozier Byrne start writing songs so that they would ‘sell more’?” she asks incredulously.

The conversation stayed with him for the rest of the day. Was he making a mistake? He was pretty sure he was making a mistake. But at the same time he was scared because what if his first love, his music and lyrics left him once he confessed everything to her? The two halves of his heart were constantly at war with each other and he couldn’t do anything to stop the war.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was a patient man, but even for him getting a call at 4 am in the morning was the last straw. All he wanted was some sleep. He had a mind to seriously tell off the person calling him at this infernal hour of the night, but as soon as he saw the caller ID, his harsh words died in his mouth.

“See, I told you he would pick up!” The voice was excited and somewhat distorted, but it was her.

“Are you okay? Are you drunk? Where are you?” He was already out of bed looking for his jacket.

“I am fine, I just thought…” She trails off.

“Where are you?” He was already in his car.

“In this world, so far. Don’t you want to know what I was thinking?” She laughs.

“Sure, you can tell me when I pick you up, now tell me where you are?” Andrew was not exactly a short tempered, but this was getting under his skin.

“I’m at the usual spot.” Her voice suddenly lost its drunken spark, “are you going to come and get me Andrew?”

“Yes. Just wait there, and don’t wander off.” He sighed in relief that she was not somewhere unfamiliar.

By the time he reached the destination, he was not surprised to find a very sleepy and tired woman. Getting her into the car was not a hard task, but something about her expression worried him.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t expect a legible answer, on account of her drunkenness. So he was quite surprised when he did in fact receive an answer.

“No, I’m not.” She laughed. “I have not been okay for a long time you know. And now, I think I’m ready to give up. No, wait, not ready…” she stretches her hands in front of her, “I have given up!”

Somehow he knew what she was saying, and his heart was sinking faster than a lead balloon. But hoping against hope he still asked, “What are you giving up on?”

“Why, my soulmate!” she said brightly, as if the thought of it didn’t make her feel like there was a hole in her stomach, “I have given up Andrew, he doesn’t exist. He never has. I’m a glitch of the nature who was born with this stupid mark, but no one is there to match it.” Even though she was smiling in the beginning, by the end of the statement she sounded angry.

Andrew could finally understand what that dark feeling mixed with guilt and shame was. It was fear. Fear of pushing her so far that there would be no return, it was fear of losing her, it was the fear of losing the person he was destined to be with.

“Don’t say that,” his voice was almost pleading. “He is out there somewhere. He is there.” He hoped that somehow he could make her believe in soulmate mark again.

“I don’t care,” she looked ahead. By then they had already reached his home, “and I don’t want to find him anymore.” She says with certain finality to her voice.

“Don’t say that.” He tried to appear calm, but inside he was frantic. How could he salvage this? Should he tell her he is her soulmate?

“It’s not the only thing I want to say. You never asked me what I was thinking when I called earlier” she seemed very sober now.

“What was it?”

“I was thinking, and I realized that I love you.” She looked at her feet, “and I know it’s wrong. But I do. And I’m sorry.”

Despite having navigated many tricky situations in the past, this one was something he had no idea how to handle.

“Okay, look, you are drunk, I am tired, how about…” he tried to talk to her as gently as he could, seeing that she was almost on the verge of tears, “… we go inside, you can sleep on my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch, and we can talk in the morning, when we are within our senses?” he tucked a few stray piece of hair behind her ear before getting out of the car, and then helping her get out of the car.

As she settled down in his bed and he left the room, he tried to imagine what he was about to do in the morning. In truth he had no idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He woke up to the smell of coffee, wondering who was making it. And then he remembered everything from the night before. Bracing himself for a confrontation, he entered the kitchen.

“Morning, I made coffee!” she said brightly before turning around, “uh, yeah you should put on a shirt I think.”

He completely forgot that he in fact took off his shirt. And he also forgot that without a shirt his mark was exposed at the side of his waist, and when he remembered, he also realized that she had noticed.

“What is that?” it was a simple whisper but heavy with disbelief, anger and hurt. Her eyes were stuck to his mark, same as hers, only bigger in scale. Her eyes flitted across the mark, then to his face, and then to his mark again. “What is that?” she demanded, louder now.

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t know what else to say. “I have no excuse, I just… I just thought finding my soulmate will diminish my ability to write so i…”

“So, you decided to hurt me?” she spoke, voice too soft to hear, but Andrew heard them perfectly, “you decided that your own artistic satisfaction was more important than me questioning my own existence, my own sanity?” she looked at him, her expression filled with doubt, anger, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. “Why did you do it?” she sat down on the floor, feeling dizzy, her voice cracking finally, “why did you do it? All those days I spent asking myself if someone for me exists, all those times I questioned the universe, did you not know?”

He sat down right in front of her “I know, I’m sorry, I have no excuse. But you were there. You were right there and I was never going to let go of you.” He tried to hold her hand but she moved away.

“DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME” her voice was filled with a venom unfamiliar to him. “This means all these times, I talked about finding my soulmate to you, you knew. You knew and you decided to let me hurt,” she got up, “I’m sure you laughed at me like I’m a fool when I told you that I loved you last night?”

“I never laughed at you,” Andrew got to his feet, “you have to understand my intentions were not to hurt you.”

“I got hurt anyway!” she shook her head dejectedly, having already given up, “All this time I kept wondering about your existence, while you already knew I existed.” She swayed on her feet, feeling dizzy with anger and hurt. “I have to go, get away.” She made her way to the door, collecting her things on the way.

“No, wait, let me explain.” Something told him that if she leaves today, he will never see her again, “please stay.”

“You know what Andrew?” she turned around, halfway through the hall, her voice eerily quiet, “you wanted something that will drive you to write great music. And I am going to give you just that.” She took a deep breath, “This is going to be the last time you will see me. And you will never hear from me again. I’ll be all but a ghost, and the only thing that will remind you of me is your mark. Congratulations, Andrew, you literally sold your soul to become a great musician. Hope all your dreams come true after this.” and with that she turned around, opened the door, and left, slamming it behind her.

He sat down where he stood, and realized how he underestimated that dark feeling inside his chest. He realized that every time it pulsed in the past when he was not being honest with her, it was reminding him of its power to consume him. And this time round, he let it. 

[scifigeneration]

Futurology: how a group of visionaries looked beyond the possible a century ago and predicted today's world

by Max Saunders

We need more blue-sky thinking. Yolanda Sun/Unsplash

From shamanic ritual to horoscopes, humans have always tried to predict the future. Today, trusting predictions and prophecies has become part of daily life. From the weather forecast to the time the sat-nav says we will reach our destination, our lives are built around futuristic fictions.

Of course, while we may sometimes feel betrayed by our local meteorologist, trusting their foresight is a lot more rational than putting the same stock in a TV psychic. This shift toward more evidence-based guesswork came about in the 20th century: futurologists began to see what prediction looked like when based on a scientific understanding of the world, rather than the traditional bases of prophecy (religion, magic, or dream). Genetic modification, space stations, wind power, artificial wombs, video phones, wireless internet, and cyborgs were all foreseen by “futurologists” from the 1920s and 1930s. Such visions seemed like science fiction when first published.

They all appeared in the brilliant and innovative “To-Day and To-Morrow” books from the 1920s, which signal the beginning of our modern conception of futurology, in which prophecy gives way to scientific forecasting. This series of over 100 books provided humanity – and science fiction – with key insights and inspiration. I’ve been immersed in them for the last few years while writing the first book about these fascinating works – and have found that these pioneering futurologists have a lot to teach us.

In their early responses to the technologies emerging then – aircraft, radio, recording, robotics, television – the writers grasped how those innovations were changing our sense of who we are. And they often gave startlingly canny previews of what was coming next, as in the case of Archibald Low, who in his 1924 book Wireless Possibilities, predicted the mobile phone: “In a few years time we shall be able to chat to our friends in an aeroplane and in the streets with the help of a pocket wireless set.”

Some of the books in the series. Max Saunders, Author provided

My immersion in these historic visions of the future has also shown me that looking at this collection of sparkling projections can teach us a lot about current prediction attempts, which today are dominated by methodologies claiming scientific rigour, such as “horizon scanning”, “scenario planning” and “anticipatory governance”. Unlike the corporate, bland way in which most of this professional future gazing takes place within government, think-tanks and corporations, the scientists, writers, and experts who wrote these books produced very individual visions.

They were committed to thinking about the future on a scientific basis. But they were also free to imagine futures that would exist for other reasons than corporate or governmental advantage. The resulting books are sometimes fanciful, but their fancy occasionally gets them further than today’s more cautious and methodical projections.

Forecasting future discoveries

Take J B S Haldane, the brilliant mathematical geneticist, whose book Daedalus; or: Science and the Future inspired the whole series in 1923. It ranges widely across the sciences, trying to imagine what remained to be done in each.

Haldane thought the main work in physics had been done with the Theory of Relativity and the development of quantum mechanics. The main tasks left seemed to him to be the delivery of better engineering: faster travel and better communications.

Chemistry, too, he saw as likely to be concerned more with practical applications, such as inventing new flavours or developing synthetic food, rather than making theoretical advances. He also realised that alternatives would be needed to fossil fuels and predicted the use of wind power. Most of his predictions have been fulfilled (though we’re still waiting eagerly for those new flavours, which have to be better than salted caramel).

The first cultured hamburger, 2013. World Economic Forum, CC BY

It’s chastening, though, how much even such a clear-sighted and ingenious scientist missed, especially in the future of theoretical physics. He doubted nuclear power would be viable. He couldn’t know about future discoveries of new particles leading to radical changes to the model of the atom. Nor, in astronomy, could he see the theoretical prediction of black holes, the theory of the big bang or the discovery of gravitational waves.

But, at the dawn of modern genetics, he saw that biology held some of the most exciting possibilities for future science. He foresaw genetic modification, arguing that: “We can already alter animal species to an enormous extent, and it seems only a question of time before we shall be able to apply the same principles to our own.” If this sounds like Haldane supported eugenics, it’s important to note that he was vocally opposed to forced sterilisation, and didn’t subscribe to the overtly racist and ableist eugenics movement that was en vogue in America and Germany at the time.

But the development that caught the eye of so many readers was what Haldane called “ectogenesis” – his term for growing embryos outside the body, in artificial wombs. Many of the other contributors took up the idea, as did other thinkers – the most notable being Haldane’s close friend Aldous Huxley, who was to use it in Brave New World, with its human “hatcheries” cloning the citizens and workers of the future. It was also Haldane who coined the word “clone”.

Ectogenesis still seems like science fiction. But the reality is getting closer. It was announced in May 2016 that human embryos had been successfully grown in an “artificial womb” for 13 days – just one day short of the legal limit, which prompting an inevitable ethical row. And in April 2017 an artificial womb designed to nurture premature human babies was successfully trialled on sheep. So even that prediction of Haldane’s may well be realised soon, perhaps within a century after it was made. Although artificial wombs will probably be used, at first, as a prosthesis to cope with medical emergencies, before they become routine options, on a par with caesareans or surrogacy.

Science, then, was not just science for these writers. It had social and political consequences, as does prediction. Many of the contributors of this series were social progressives, in sexual as well as political matters. Haldane looked forward to the doctor taking over from the priest and science separating sexual pleasure from reproduction. In ectogenesis, he foresaw that women could be relieved of the pain and inconvenience of bearing children. As such, the idea could be seen as a feminist thought experiment – though some feminists might now see it as a male attempt to control women’s bodies.

What this reveals is how shrewd these writers were about the controversies and social proclivities of the age. At a time when too many thinkers were seduced by the pseudoscience of eugenics, Haldane was scathing about it. He had better ideas about how humanity might want to transform itself.

What this reveals is how shrewd these writers were about the controversies and social proclivities of the age. At a time when too many thinkers were seduced by the pseudoscience of eugenics, Haldane was scathing about it. He had better ideas about how humanity might want to transform itself. While most of the scholars musing on eugenics merely supported white supremacy, Haldane’s motives suggest he’d be delighted at the advent of technologies like CRISPR – a method by which humankind could better itself in ways that mattered, like curing congenital disease.

Alternate futures

Some of To-Day and To-Morrow’s predictions of technological developments are impressively accurate, such as video phones, space travel to the moon, robotics and air attacks on capital cities. But others are charmingly inaccurate.

Oliver Stewart’s 1927 volume, Aeolus or: The Future of the Flying Machine, argued that British craftsmanship would triumph over American mass production. He was excited by autogiros – small aircraft with a propeller for thrust and a freewheeling rotor on top, for which there was a craze at the time. He thought travellers would use those for short-haul flights, transferring for long-haul to flying boats – passenger planes with boat-like bodies that could take off from, and land on, the sea. Flying boats certainly had their vogue for glamorous voyages across the ocean, but disappeared as airliners became bigger and longer range and as more airports were built.

The Dornier Do X was the largest, heaviest, and most powerful flying boat in the world when it was produced by the Dornier company in Germany in 1929. Wikipedia, CC BY

The To-Day and To-Morrow series, like all futurology, is full of such parallel universes. Paths history could well have taken, but didn’t. In the rousing 1925 feminist volume Hypatia or: Woman and knowledge, Bertrand Russell’s wife Dora proposed that women should be paid for household work. Unfortunately, this has not come to pass either.

The film critic Ernest Betts, meanwhile, writes in 1928’s Heraclitus; or The Future of films that “the film of a hundred years hence, if it is true to itself, will still be silent, but it will be saying more than ever”. His timing was terrible, as the first “talkie”, The Jazz Singer, had just come out. But Betts’s vision of film’s distinctiveness and integrity – the expressive possibilities open to it when it brackets off sound – and of its potential as a universal human language, cutting across different linguistic cultures, remains admirable.

The difficulty with future thinking is to guess which of the forking paths leads to our real future. In most of the books, moments of surprisingly accurate prediction are tangled up with false prophecies. This isn’t to say that the accuracy is just a matter of chance. Take another of the most dazzling examples, The World, the Flesh and the Devil by the scientist J D Bernal, one of the great pioneers of molecular biology. This has influenced science fiction writers, including Arthur C Clarke, who called it “the most brilliant attempt at scientific prediction ever made”.

Bernal sees science as enabling us to transcend limits. He doesn’t think we should settle for the status quo if we can imagine something better. He imagines humans needing to explore other worlds and to get them there he imagines the construction of huge life-supporting space stations called bio-spheres, now named after him as “Bernal spheres”. Imagine the international space station, scaled up to small planet or asteroid size.

Brain in a vat

When Bernal turns to the flesh, things get rather stranger. A lot of the To-Day and To-Morrow writers were interested in how we use technologies as prosthesis, to extend our faculties and abilities through machines. But Bernal takes it much further. First, he thinks about mortality – or more specifically – about the limit of our lifespan. He wonders what science might be able to do to extend it.

In most deaths the person dies because the body fails. So what if the brain could be transferred to a machine host, which could keep it, and therefore the thinking person, alive much longer?

Bernal’s thought experiment develops the first elaboration of what philosophers now call the “brain in a vat” hypothesis. Except they’re usually concerned with questions of perception and illusion (if my brain in a vat was sent electrical signals identical to the ones sent by my legs, would I think I was walking? Would I be able to tell the difference?). But Bernal has more pragmatic ends in view. Not only would his Dalek-like machines be able to extend our brain life, they’d be able to extend our capabilities. They would give us stronger limbs and better senses.

Bernal wasn’t the first to postulate what we’d now call the cyborg. It had already appeared in pulp science fiction a couple of years earlier – talking, believe it or not, about ectogenesis.

But it’s where Bernal takes the idea next that is so interesting. Like Haldane’s, his book is one of the founding texts of transhumanism – the idea that humanity should improve its species. He envisions a small sense organ for detecting wireless frequencies, eyes for infra-red, ultra-violet and X-rays, ears for supersonics, detectors of high and low temperatures, of electrical potential and current.

With that wireless sense Bernal imagined how humanity could be in touch with others, regardless of distance. Even fellow humans across the galaxy in their biospheres could be within reach. And, like several of the series’ authors, he imagines such interconnection as augmenting human intelligence, of producing what science fiction writers have called a hive mind, or what Haldane calls a “super-brain”.

It’s not AI exactly because its components are natural: individual human brains. And in some ways, coming from Marxist intellectuals like Haldane and Bernal, what they’re imagining is a particular realisation of solidarity. Workers of the world uniting, mentally. Bernal even speculates that if your thoughts could be broadcast direct to other minds in this way, then they would continue to exist even after the individual brain that thought them had died. And so would offer a form of immortality guaranteed by science instead of religion.

Blind spots

But from a modern point of view what’s more interesting is how Bernal effectively imagined the world wide web, more than 60 years before its invention by Tim Berners Lee. What neither Bernal, nor any of the To-Day and To-Morrow contributors could imagine, though, was the computers needed to run it – even though they were only about 15 years away when he was writing. And it is these computers that have so ramped up and transformed these early attempts at futurology into the industry it is today.

How can we account for this computer-shaped hole at the centre of so many of these prophecies? It was partly that mechanical or “analogue” computers such as punched card machines and anti-aircraft gun “predictors” (which helped gunners aim at rapidly moving targets) had become so good at calculation and information retrieval. So good, in fact, that to the inventor and To-day and To-morrow author H Stafford Hatfield what was needed next was what he called “the mechanical brain”.

So these thinkers could see that some form of artificial intelligence was required. But even though electronics were developing rapidly, in radios and even televisions, it didn’t yet seem obvious – it didn’t even seem to occur to people – that if you wanted to make something that functioned more like a brain it would need to be electronic, rather than mechanical or chemical. But that was exactly the moment when neurological experiments by Edgar Adrian and others in Cambridge were beginning to show that what made the human brain tick was actually the electrical impulses that powered the nervous system.

Just 12 years later, in 1940 – before the development of the first digital computer, Colossus at Bletchley Park – it was possible for Haldane (again) to see that what he called “Machines that Think” were beginning to appear, combining electrical and mechanical technologies. In some ways our situation is comparable, as we sit poised just before the next great digital disruption: AI.

A Colossus codebreaking computer, 1943. Wikimedia Commons

Bernal’s book is a fascinating example of just how far extended future thinking can go. Further than actual science, or science fiction, or philosophy or anything else. But it also shows where it reaches its limits. If we can understand why the To-Day and To-Morrow authors were able to predict biospheres, mobile phones and special effects, but not the computer, the crisis in obesity, or the resurgence of religious fundamentalisms, then maybe we can learn about the blind spots in our own forward vision and horizon scanning.

Beyond the simple wows and comedic effects of these hits and misses, we need more than ever to learn from these past examples about the potential and dangers of future thinking. We would do well to look closely at what might helps us to be better futurologists, as well as at what might be blocking our vision.

Yesterday and today

The pairing of scientific knowledge and imagination in these books created something unique – a series of hypotheticals somewhat lodged between futurology and science fiction. It is this sense of hopeful imagination that I think urgently needs to be injected back into today’s predictions.

Because computers have transformed contemporary futurology in major ways: especially in terms of where and how it is carried out. As I have mentioned, computer modelling of the future mainly happens in businesses or organisations. Banks and other financial companies want to anticipate shifts in the markets. Retailers need to be aware of trends. Governments need to understand demographic shifts and military threats. Universities want to drill down into the data of these or other fields to try to understand and theorise what is happening.

To do this kind of complex forecasting well, you have to be a fairly large corporation or organisation with adequate resources. The bigger the data, the hungrier the exercise becomes for computing power. You need access to expensive equipment, specialist programmers and technicians. Information that citizens freely offer to companies such as Facebook or Amazon is sold on to other companies for their market research – as many were shocked to discover in the Cambridge Analytica scandal.

The main techniques which today’s governments and industries use to try to prepare for or predict the future – horizon scanning and scenario planning – are all well and good. They may help us nip wars and financial crashes in the bud – though rather obviously, they don’t always get it right either. But as a model for thinking about the future more generally, or for thinking about other aspects of the future, such methods are profoundly reductive.

They’re all about maintaining the status quo, about risk aversion. Any interesting ideas or innovative speculations that are about anything other than risk avoidance are likely to get pushed aside. The group nature of think-tanks and foresight teams also has a levelling down effect. Future thinking by committee has a tendency to come out in bureaucratese: bland, impersonal, insipid. The opposite of science fiction.

Horizon scanning doesn’t tend to produce any particularly exciting ideas. Zhao jiankang/Shutterstock.com

Which is perhaps why science fiction needs to put its imagination in hyperdrive: to boldly go where the civil servants and corporate aparatchiks are too timid to venture. To imagine something different. Some science fiction is profoundly challenging in the sheer otherness of its imagined worlds.

That was the effect of 2001 or Solaris, with their imagining of other forms of intelligence, as humans adapt to life in space. Kim Stanley Robinson takes both ideas further in his novel 2312, imagining humans with implanted quantum computers and different colony cultures as people find ways of living on other planets, building mobile cities to keep out of the sun’s heat on Mercury, or terraforming planets, even hollowing out asteroids to create new ecologies as art works.

When we compare To-Day and To-Morrow with the kinds of futurology on offer nowadays, what’s most striking is how much more optimistic most of the writers were. Even those like Haldane and Vera Brittain (she wrote a superb volume about women’s rights in 1929) who had witnessed the horrors of modern technological war, saw technology as being the solution rather than the problem.

Imagined futures nowadays are more likely to be shadowed by risk, by anxieties about catastrophes, whether natural (asteroid collision, mega-tsunami) or man-made (climate change and pollution). The damage industrial capitalism has inflicted on the planet has made technology seem like the enemy now. Certainly, until anyone has any better ideas, and tests them, reducing carbon emissions, energy waste, pollution, and industrial growth seem like our best bet.

Imagining positive change

The only thing that looks likely to convince us to change our ways is the dawning conviction that we have left it too late. That even if we cut emissions to zero now, global warming has almost certainly passed the tipping point and will continue to rise to catastrophic levels regardless of what we do to try to stop it.

That realisation is beginning to generate new ideas about technological solutions – ways of extracting carbon from the atmosphere or of artificially reducing sunlight over the polar ice caps. Such proposals are controversial, attacked as encouragements to carry on with Anthropocene vandalism and expect someone else to clear up our mess.

But they might also show that we are at an impasse in future thinking, and are in danger of losing the ability to imagine positive change. That too is where comparison with earlier attempts to predict the future might be able to help us. They could show us how different societies in different periods have different orientations towards the past or the future.

Where the modernism of the 1920s and 30s was very much oriented towards the future, we are more obsessed with the past, with nostalgia. Ironically, the very digital technology that came with such a futuristic promise is increasingly used in the service of heritage and the archive. Cinematic special effects are more likely to deliver feudal warriors and dragons, rather than rockets and robots.

But if today’s futurologists could get back in touch with the imaginative energies of their predecessors, perhaps they would be better equipped to devise a future we could live with.

About The Author:

Max Saunders is Professor of English at King's College London

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. 

This article is part of Conversation Insights The Insights team generates long-form journalism derived from interdisciplinary research. The team is working with academics from different backgrounds who have been engaged in projects aimed at tackling societal and scientific challenges.

[bullet-prooflove]

Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz x Reader: Home

Part Eight of PTSD!Mouse Series - Can be read as a stand alone or part of the series.    

Part One: Night Terrors

Part Two: Making Plans

Part Three: Reflection

Part Four: Coming Clean

Part Five: No Pressure

Part Six: Self Care

Part Seven: Lucky

        Mouse had never been to the Adler Planetarium, he hadn’t been aware that the place existed until you had parked up outside. Now that he was here...

    Mouse couldn’t think of a time he had been happier. His brilliant blue eyes were fixated on the pinpricks of stars that shone in the night time sky above them. He’d lost track of how long the two of you had been laying here on the red and white picnic blanket that had been handed to you on the way into the exhibition. His fingers were still entwined with yours, he could feel your soothing presence next to him as his thumb traced along the inside of your hand.

    He’d never felt as at peace as he did in this moment. He had missed this, missed that sensation of awe and wonder that he had always gotten when he looked up at the sky and saw the stars. The city was always too bright, too dazzling but back in Afghanistan he remembered the time he spent soaking up the beauty of it all. It made him realise that there was something bigger out there, that there was more to life than existing inside that tiny sphere that surrounded you and your life. It made him feel connected again, like there were ebbs of the person he was and the person he was becoming all flowing in the same direction.

    “You gave me the stars.” he said in a hushed tone, his gaze transfixed to the constellations above him.

    “You once told me they helped you feel grounded.” You said softly, recounting a conversation from a few months past. “I wanted you to feel like that again, to feel like there’s more...”

    He remembered that conversation. He rarely talked about Afghanistan with anyone outside of Jay and his therapist so when he spoke to you...

    It had come from a place of trust, it had been the first time he had put his faith in anybody else outside of that tiny circle. You’d held it like a gift in your hands and given him something beautiful in return. He couldn’t say how much he treasured this, he couldn’t describe how wonderful it felt to be in the presence of someone who genuinely wanted to make his world a better place.

    The words he wanted to say where there on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t bring himself to speak them. Too much, too soon, he reasoned. He couldn’t tell you that he had fallen in love with you, that he had been falling ever since the day the two of you had met. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with the fact he was someone you might want to be with, that he worthy of love at all.

    “Thank you.” he whispered pouring every single ounce of the emotion that he was feeling into that phrase as he spoke. “Thank you so much.”

    ——————————-

    You weren’t surprised to see how neat and orderly Mouse’s apartment was. You had seen the same regimented organisation from your father when he had come home from his own war. It was a mind set, you understood.

    Tidy place, tidy mind. It helped to compartmentalize, your father had told you, helped to sort things out in your head.

    You lingered by the wooden bookcase, your fingertip running over the spines of each novel as you surveyed the titles. To your surprise there were several fantasy novels lining the lower shelves, Game of Thrones, David Eddings...

    Your eyes flickered to the shelf above, it consisted mostly of Sci-Fi. Authors like Iain Banks made an appearance. You stopped when you reached Aldous Huxley ‘s ‘Brave New World’, plucking it from it’s space amongst the others of it’s kind. You’d read it before, a couple of years ago, it was an excellent companion piece to George Orwell’s 1984. The copy you held in your hand was well worn, like it had been read over and over again. You flicked through it, pausing when you reached a Polaroid photograph that had been jammed between the pages as a bookmark you presumed.

    It was a picture of Mouse and Jay, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders as they sat side by side. They were dressed in the usual military attire, fatigues and matching shirts, dog tags glinting in the sun. Mouse was laughing, his eyes were crinkled up at the corners, his head thrown back clearly amused by whatever Jay was saying. His hair was shorter in these pictures, longer than a buzz cut but still in keeping with the military term of style. Your thumb smoothed over his handsome features, your lips twitching up at the expression on his handsome features. He looked so young here, so carefree. The horrors of the world, of that war they hadn’t touched him yet.

    “That’s where that got to.” Mouse uttered as he stepped up beside you a cup of decaffeinated tea in either hand.

    “It’s a good picture.” You told him, replacing the book back in it’s normal place before setting the photograph down upon the shelf where Mouse could retrieve it later.

    “I use them as book marks sometimes.” he revealed handing you the cup of tea before guiding you towards the comfortable navy blue couch.

    “I remember, you think bending the corners of the page is sacrilege.” you commented as you took a seat upon the couch, sighing in delight as you lounged back against the plush cushions.

    Mouse lingered for a moment, his blue eyes fixed on you watching as you sipped from the mug in your hands. You looked like you belonged here, on his sofa, in his apartment. He knew he’d made the right decision inviting you back. Despite the connotations, there was no pressure, you were happy to sit and talk if that’s what he wanted.

    What he wanted...

    He’d given a lot of thought to that over the past few days. He wanted you, there was no doubt in his mind about that but it was more than just physical, the way he felt for you...

    There was no way he could vocalise that right now. He could get lost in you, Mouse wanted that more than anything. He wanted to give you every single part of himself, the good and the bad. You would take it all, you had made that clear tonight when you had kissed him back on the steps at the precinct, when you had taken him to the planetarium and the two of you had stared up at the stars. He could have everything he ever wanted but he was scared to take it, to let himself be with someone in that way.

    Knowing something and actually seeing it were two very different things. Sleeping next to him, experiencing those nightmares first hand, he didn’t know if he could inflict that on someone else.

    Your delicate hand reached out, slipping into his as if it had always belonged there. That anxiety he was feeling, it seemed to evaporate whenever you touched him, all he could see was that beautiful, serene face staring up at him under those dark eyelashes of yours. He lowered himself onto the couch, placing his cup of tea upon the sturdy wooden coffee table.

    “I’m scared.” he found himself telling you as he looked into those gorgeous eyes of yours.

    “Talk to me.” you requested, propping your head up with your free hand upon the sofa. “Tell me what’s running though your mind.”

    “You...” he told her, his fingertips smoothing a stray strand of your silky hair back behind your ear. His brilliant blue gaze fixated on those those pretty features of yours, the way your mouth quirked up into a smile at his words. “... I don’t understand how you can be so perfect for me.”

    “We just fit.” you told him, looking down at your entwined fingers. “There’s something about being with you. It feels like...” you trailed off as you searched for the word unable to select the one that encompassed everything you felt when you were around this amazing man.

    “Home.” Mouse supplied quietly.

    “Yes.” You murmured, leaning in just that little bit closer. His eyes closed as he inhaled your sweet floral scent, your pert pink lips brushing the corner of his mouth as you spoke. “You feel like home.”

[studysketch]

hey everyone, this is part two of my essay writing post! here i talk about tips for writing introductions to your paper.

i think that in general it’s a good idea to structure your introduction last! because starting the essay can be pretty intimidating and this way you’re not pressured to get those first few sentences down, because you focus more on your argument.

disclaimer: the type of essay you’ll be writing really depends on your subject, so make sure you know exactly what your teacher is looking for.

1. reel in the reader

the hook is the very first part of your intro, so there’s a lot of pressure to make it perfect. you’ll want it to be interesting enough to pique interest, but it also has to be relevant to your essay. it can be a broad statement about your topic, a comparison to a relatable issue, an introduction to a common opinion, a misconception that you’ll talk more about in your essay, etc. do not use a question or a quote as a hook sentence. you generally don’t want to use cited info or facts here either, you can leave those for the later parts of your essay when you can back them up. since most essays are formal, also stay away from using personal anecdotes or such things.

Don’t:

“Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery.” This quote from Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World shows that... <- this isn’t a hook, save it for your body paragraphs.

How does one define happiness? In Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, this definition is... <- in a formal essay, questions are usually avoided.

Do:

The idea of “real” happiness in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World is deeply construed as being the opposite of current societal views...<-opinion

While modern norms shun instant gratification, direct pleasure, and gluttony, Huxley’s Brave New World praises these as the ideal due to...<- comparison

2. be “journalistic” and summarize

summarize and answer all the who, what, where, when, and why questions. don’t assume that your reader knows everything about your topic already, but at the same time make your intro summary more than a few sentences. majority of your intro paragraph should be dedicated to introducing your thesis and arguments!

3. explain why your topic is important

why are you writing this essay? besides the fact that we all need to graduate lol. but the point of an essay is that you have to have a point. introduce your point to the reader (in french this is called the problematique). think of it like the “problem” that you’ll be solving in your essay.

Don’t:

In this essay I will explain.../This essay will cover... <- just get to the point!

Do:

Breaking down the definition of happiness in Brave New World is essential to understanding the forms of conditioning used in this dystopian society. <-explains exactly why you’re writing about this topic.

4. provide a clear “road map”

my teacher explained the intro as being kind of like a “road map” where you detail exactly what you’ll be talking about in your essay, and then each body paragraph is like a “road sign” pointing you in the right direction. of course don’t state “I will be talking about this and this” (see number 3.), but just give a general outline as to what your main arguments are. get into the “meat” of your arguments. make sure you keep this outline clear and easy to follow: your intro must flow smoothly from hook, to summary, to point, to arguments, to thesis.

5. have your intro mirror the conclusion

a good essay goes full circle and connects ideas that you introduced in the beginning with the conclusions you draw from them in the end. this is another example of why it’s nice to do the intro last! because that way, you have a clearer idea of what your essay is about, and you can incorporate your ideas from the body paragraphs.

 a shaky intro that has nothing to do with the conclusion will confuse the reader and make it seem like you didn’t know what you were writing about in the beginning.

thank you for reading, i hope that some of these tips can help someone. part three will be all about the thesis (seriously, if you didn’t read any of the other parts, read part 3 because it’s super important!!) 

P.S. be sure to check out my essay writing tag for more tips i’ve reblogged! also check out my resources page which has a list of other masterposts you may want to check out.

[getting started] [introductions] [thesis (coming soon)] x

[peterschoenau]

Vita Noia

Kindle Edition

by Peter Schoenau (Author)

 “Vita Noia” describes the way of a pill, the “small pink pill”, also called happiness stimulator, which has been developed as suicide blocker and leads finally to a type of egalitarianism which offers a small, unscrupulous elite the possibility to take control over the “happy” humans and to establish under the cover of the altruistic goal of bringing the great overall happiness to people a totalitarian regime.

 Vita Noia is a fine story in the line of "Brave new world" by Aldous Huxley. It thrillingly describes what happens when we change our priorities from being human (with all our victories and defeats) to becoming perfect, however, deprived of all that characterizes our human fate.

Product details

·         Format: Kindle Edition

·         File Size: 1354 KB

·         Print Length: 85 pages

·         Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited

·         Sold by: Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.

·         Language: English

·         ASIN: B07VMY8B3V

·         Text-to-Speech: Enabled 

·         X-Ray: Not Enabled

·         Word Wise: Not Enabled

·         Screen Reader: Supported 

·         Enhanced Typesetting: Enabled 

[booksenstuff]

✨"Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly -- they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced" . ~Aldous Huxley . . 💯These lines above are so damn true. I graze a lot of books but all that I look for while reading is those words that can penetrate my mind and stay there eternally💫 That is my strongest desire while reading👀 . . ❓What do you search for in the book while reading it? . . . #readingtime📖 #reader #readingisfundamental #readingiscool #readingaddict #readingislife #read #reading #readingcommunity #readersofinstagram #bookblogger #bookstagrammers #bookstagram #bookcommunity #bookworms #booklove #bookworm #bibliophile #booknerd #booknerdigan #bookish #booksofinstagram #booksbooksbooks #books #bookshelf #bookphotography #bookstagramcommunity #bookporn #bookaesthetic (at India) https://www.instagram.com/p/CK4CzHUAURC/?igshid=1mmcmc9uyheag

[forthemultiverse]

Jason Todd x Reader - Time - Finale

Part One , Two , Three , Finale

- You had been seeing Jason a lot recently. Just as friends.

- Though both of you wanted more, you were both just to awkward to make the first move.

- It was a really rainy night and you hadn’t been able to sleep. Your apartment was on the top floor and never felt completely safe on stormy nights.

- Instead you were sitting on your sofa and drinking green tea, going through Tim’s Netflix on your TV.

- When you had rich friends, you used them for free Netflix.

- Jason was bleeding and probably going to die.

- He had been in a pretty bad fight and Tim was on his way to get him.

- There wasn’t a chance he was going to get there on time. Tim was having to hack into his helmet and locate him as well as actually reach him.

- Jason knew a possible solution. You lived nearby and you were training to be a doctor.

- But if he went to you, he would have to explain the whole Red Hood situation.

- Then again, you were Tim and Steph’s friend, they had probably told you by accident and trying to keep it on the down low.

- Jason managed to get himself to your apartment building, luckily you were on the top floor and he could swing down to your fire escape without causing too much trouble.

- You almost screamed when Red Hood forced your window and collapsed on to the floor.

- “What the hell!” you yelled before noticing all the blood “Crap,”

- “Y/N…” Jason managed to choke out. He was struggling to breath.

- “Jay…” you froze when you heard his voice. Then you yanked the stupid helmet off and his identity was confirmed.

- You didn’t waste time demanding an explanation or freaking out. Your training kicked in and you managed to move him onto a table.

- You pulled out your home kit, it didn’t have everything you wanted but it had enough.

- After a very stressful hour, Jason was breathing normally and stitched up.

- “Hood! Where are you?” Tim’s voice buzzed from the helmet.

- You wanted to slap Tim in that moment. He had no sense of direction and if Jason had waited for him, he would have died.

- “He’s at mine.” you spoke into the helmet.

- “Y/N…bats is going to kill us…”

- “He’s alive, created a mess though.”

- “Should I come get him?”

- “No…no…he can crash here tonight.” you noticed Jason perk up slightly when you said that. He’d been completely silent, and refusing to meet your eyes.

- You put the helmet away. “So you’re Red Hood…That would make Tim…Red Robin?”

- “So you don’t hate me…?” he asked, genuinely confused.

- “Why would I hate?”

- “Because I didn’t tell you? Because I kill people? Because I’m involved in the Gotham Underworld?”

- “Almost everyone that lives in Gotham has been involved in the Underworld at some point. I had a teacher in university who became a villain instead of marking our course work.”

- “Killing people?”

- “Not my place to judge. You do what you think is right. At least you’re doing something to try and stop crime.”

- “I didn’t tell you?”

- “Sounds like you want me to hate you, I don’t. Plus, it’s a pretty big deal. You can’t just go around telling people that your Red Hood.”

- “But you aren’t people…” he whispered, hoping you wouldn’t hear.

- You did.

- “How did it start?” you asked quietly.

- “You want to know?” he sat up now.

- So many things made sense to you now. That night when he’d shown up at Steph and yours movie night. He was half naked because he had been finishing patrol.

- Why he was busy most nights

- The family matters Tim always had.

- Why Jason had travelled so much.

- “I do, what happened that made you put on a helmet and get a gun?”

- “It’s a long story…”

- “I have time…” you tried to smile at him, but he was looking at the floor. “And you can take yours.”

- “What?” his head shot up.

- “Sure, I have questions. But if you don’t want to tell me yet, you don’t have to. I’m going to be demanding why it’s taken Tim so long to tell me, but you don’t have too. I have all the time in the world and you can take that long.”

- “It’s a really long story.” he swung his legs round so he was sitting

- “You stole his tires?” you laughed “Why would you think that was a good idea?”

- “I was as street rat! I saw a nice car and didn’t put two and two together till Batman was already there” he defended

- “I went looking for my mum.” he started, this part was going to be the hardest. “She sold me out t the Joker…”

- “Jay…”

- He didn’t even try to sugar coat it. He told the story of his death in all the gruesome details. “So that’s how I died…”

- You gripped his hand, having joined him on the table. “You feel alive to me.” you leant your head on his shoulder.

- “I came back with a bone to pick, Bruce and I didn’t get on…I was pretty awful to Tim and the others.”

- “But that’s when Batman was gone briefly, when Red Hood was super big?” you remembered. “Tim disappeared for a bit…”

- “Yeah…He was lost in time. Tim was the one who figured it out. Damian became Robin and Tim went looking for Bruce, didn’t believe he was dead. Dick became Batman.”

- “So Roy and I ended up doing a lot of stuff, the number he gave up is still called every now and again.”

- “The Royfriend.” you remembered what Stephanie had called him.

- “He’s the best. Set my shower on fire once, still the best. Me and him had some stuff with the Joker’s Daughter.”

- “So you three became the outlaws…” you were trying to keep up with everything.

- “The first version of them. After we split up, I met Artemis and Bizarro.”

- “And here we are…” he finally finished.

- It had been about seven hours, and he had skipped out some details. You both had been through about three cups of coffee so far.

- “Here we are.” you agreed.

- “You want to kick me out? Zobie, killer, and asshole.”

- “At least you own it.”

- “I knew you’d hate me.” he looked to the floor for some comfort.

- You definitely didn’t hate him. Not at all.

- Whenever people asked it the future, Jason always claimed to have made the first move, you let him.

- You kissed him passionately but quickly. Pulling away to check his reaction.

- “What?” he asked, not trying to hide the smile forming.

- “I know everything now?”

- “Yeah.”

- “I definitely don’t hate you, Jason.”

- “But you don’t want this life. You can’t, it’s a nightmare, uncomfortable, messy!”

- “But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin. I want you, Jason,” you quoted, thinking a book reference would mean a bit more to him.

- “Aldous Huxley…are you sure?”

- “Are you trying to talk me out of it?” you laughed at him.

- “Never.” he did make the second move at least, kissing you over and over again.

- “Well isn’t this sweet.” Tim had opened the door with his spare key, arriving to collect Jason.

- Neither of you cared though.

- For Jason, you had offered all the time in the world last night.

- He was already falling completely in love with you , and he had all the time to be with you.

Message from me - I could be really mean and say something like the Joker appeared and shot you in the head, but I’m not like that. I hope everybody that read these parts liked them! I loved writing them - Scarlett xx