#and then i had it connected with my phone plan to save me money

[oneguardian15]

anyone else run into this yet? this is the only show i’ve seen this for so far (voltron legendary defender) but i’m honestly just getting reeeaaalll tired of netflix’s shit (see below the little padlock in the corner of the voltron icon i have circled at the top of the image)

and yes, the entire series is locked.

[dontknowwhatyouheard]

Something Special 2

A/N: I’m new to this whole fanfic writing thing so go easy on me. I’m very open to feedback. Also, be informed that I’m bad at getting my ideas onto paper but I’m even worse with grammar, so don’t eat me up on that lol.

Paring: Dark Beefy CEO!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+ all ageless bios with be blocked, non-con, Somnophilia, G!P Wanda Maximoff, legal age gap r is 21 Wanda is 38, dark!fic, stalking, cockwarmimg. lmk if I missed something Summary: Y/N is falling on hard times but Wanda is there to pick up the pieces Word Count: 1010

Chap 1 Chap 3

This is all so new for Wanda. Never before has she been so eager to meet someone. After your interaction at the store and your little escapade together in your apartment, she hasn’t been able to get you off her mind. She just knew she had to have you, you were struggling and she needed to save you. Even if it meant asking an old friend for a favor. Wanda was finally able to tear her eyes away from her computer screen as she finally had a plan to set into motion.

"This is all for you, Sugar; Daddy will have you all to herself soon." She scrolled till she came across the contact she was looking for. Kate Bishop. Kate Bishop was the wealthiest CEO in the area and had lots of connections which is just what Wanda needed.  

The phone rang twice before being answered. "Wanda Maximoff, to what do I owe the pleasure?" someone on the other end of the telephone sang. 

"I'm in need of a favor." She let out a sigh. 

"Not even a 'hello' after not calling for months," Kate smugly observed.

Wanda considered hanging up since she despised Kate's arrogance. They were always at each other's throats throughout high school, fighting for popularity. And Kate was usually at the top. 

 Wanda knew it was a big favor she was about to ask for, but she was hoping Kate would take it easy on her this time.

“Kate, I need you to evict one of your tenants.” 

“Wha-“

"I'll pay you whatever you want, please, because this is important." She begs, oblivious to how desperate she sounds. On the other end, Kate sighs. 

"I'm not interested in your money, Wanda. If I evict this tenant you're requesting, I'll need a lot more than that, and I'm not confident you'll be willing to give me what I want." Kate answered smugly, a smirk on her face. 

"Anything Kate, please." She didn't care if she sounded desperate; she'd give anything in the world to be with you. 

"Wands, who is the tenant?"

"Y/N Y/L/N she's staying in one of your brownstone apartments." 

"All right, Wanda, I want one of your companies, specifically your computer engineers."

Wanda's computer engineering firm was not just her first, but also her most profitable. She'd be able to live lavishly and then some if she gave this company away, but she'd take a huge hit. She paused momentarily to consider her options, but she knew she had her answer when she went to her computer and saw you crying because of your predicament. 

"It's yours," Wanda replied, "so consider it done," Kate remarked as Wanda hung up the phone.

"I hope you know how much I love you, Sugar," she whispered as she rubbed her bulge through her boxers. "After this, I'll be able to take care of you and make sure you have everything you need." She said to the computer screen.

Wanda was aroused at the thought of meeting you, but she realized that if she didn't leave within the hour, she wouldn't be able to "accidentally" run into you at your workplace. Instead, she stood up and took a cold shower. 

——-

You hadn't realized how long you'd been crying until you looked at your clock and raced out of bed. You were rushing out the door and hadn't noticed the sign on your door. You could only pray that your boss wouldn't fire you for being late again. 

When you finally arrived at the cafe, you got situated before opening the shop. Your first customer was a familiar face from the day before. It was the lady who bought your groceries. 

"How may I help you today, ma'am?"

 "Why so formal?" she asked, smiling. "I would like a small, vanilla frappe." 

"Coming right up, can I get a name for your order?"

“Wanda“ she said confidently “how much do I owe you“

You smiled at her “It's on the house as a thank you for yesterday” 

She reached into her pants pocket and pulled down and $100 bill anyway “Keep the change, if you want to thank me, you can give me your number”

You were debating whether or not to put your number on her drink as you were mixing it. But when you finished the drink, you figured you had nothing to lose and wrote your phone number on the side of the cup where you knew she'd find it. 

"Wanda," you called out. As she approached the counter to get her drink, her hand brushed against yours. 

“Thank you, Sugar,“ she said before leaving the cafe.

——-

Finally, you arrived home. Wanda has been the only thing on your mind all day. You were about to open the door with a happy sigh when you noticed the sign on your door. You couldn't believe it; it was an eviction notice. You were aware that you were past due on your rent for the previous month, but your landlord assured you that it would not be an issue. You instantly ripped the notice from your door and hurried inside, sat on your bed, stared at the notice, and wept until you had no more tears. What the fuck were you going to do now? The idea of having to live on the street terrified you like no other, so you decided it would be best if you slept so you’d be able to think things over in the morning. 

Once Wanda was certain you were sound asleep. She crept in through your window again, just like the night before. She felt horrible seeing you cry like that, and she wanted nothing more than to soothe you, so she climbed into bed and undressed. She removed the covers from your nude body. Her cock was hard as she went into your pussy slowly. She didn't move because she didn't want to fuck you; she just found this comforting and thought it would comfort you as well.

"Don't worry, Sugar; everything will be fine soon."

[lurkingshan]

Things That Have My Attention in 4 Minutes Episode 4

Congrats to the Dome is Tonkla's brother truthers!

Let's talk timelines again. I still think we're working with two timelines, but I no longer think they're cleanly separated. Because if they were, you could not have some of these things happening concurrently. If we only had an Original timeline and a Redo timeline, then everything Great changes should be part of the Redo timeline. But in this episode Great saved Nan in the same timeline where Dome was dead, which we know because Great got Nan's location by getting Korn trashed after Korn fought with Tonkla over his abandonment in the aftermath of Dome's death. These things are all connected, so we can't cleanly sort events into one timeline or the other.

Which means it's most likely that the two timelines are bleeding together, making things unstable. This would explain Great's experience of overlapping moments last week, and Tonkla seeing Dome briefly before things went all weird and he disappeared at the end of today's episode.

By the way, it turns out those cold opens are not of the future--Tonkla has already done the murder in the same timeline where he's messing around with the cop. ETA: @my-rose-tinted-glasses pointed out that this is not necessarily true if the scene of Win getting the fingerprints and the phone call is also in the future. So back to square one on that!

Speaking of, what is up with Win? He is fully engaging in an affair with a murder suspect and doesn't seem to be investigating Tonkla at all. And I cannot let this pass without comment: why on earth did Win not put his pants back on during the long scene of him listening to Tonkla and Korn?! Was this really an appropriate situation to Winnie the Pooh it???

The flashback to Tonkla and Korn's beginning gave good context for why Tonkla thought he might be able to have more with Korn. I appreciated the details there: Korn was giving him money before they even had sex the first time and was lying to him about his intentions from the start, while Tonkla had zero experience when they met and didn't know how to recognize the signs of Korn's lies. Korn basically groomed this kid to be his sidepiece and has strung him along for years.

Tonkla definitely feels like a tragic character heading for a bad end, though perhaps he will also be saved eventually by the timeline shifts. In the timeline where Dome is dead and he's fucking Win, Tonkla is being incredibly reckless. I couldn't believe he just moved a new man into the home Korn pays for, he's gonna get caught.

I was grateful the show did not actually go all the way with Korn assaulting Tonkla, but it was clear he would have if Tonkla had not managed to distract him.

I continue to find the emotional tenor of Great and Tyme's scenes kinda weird. I don't understand why Great is so willing to betray Korn to help Tyme after just meeting him, I don't understand why Tyme revealed his face only to run away and then accused Great of being in on the conspiracy after already confirming he's not, and I don't understand why they were acting all blushy and awkward in that sex scene rather than leaning into the adrenaline high for a more sultry tone. They have been on one (1) date so the emotional investment is not really tracking for me for two experienced adults, but I can't tell if I am supposed to find this all weird and confusing or just go with it. It feels like the show just wants me to accept the shortcuts and buy into them as a serious romance, so okay I guess!

Speaking of betraying Korn, Great's plan was abysmal. He steals the information from Korn's phone (so considerate of him to spell out his criminal conspiracy including names and locations in one convenient text chain), tells Tyme everything without any knowledge of what his brother did, then walks right into an active hostage situation in his designer whites and shows his face to all Korn's goons. Korn is gonna know you did this, bro! Do you care?

It seems that Nan has a friend who was killed in a similar fashion to Tyme's parents, though I'm still curious how they connected and came up with this plan.

I still got nothing on this Lukwa connection. Why are she and Great the only two experiencing this phenomenon, and why did they see each other in this liminal space?

Also noting that there were several sex scenes this episode and no condoms or lube anywhere. I guess this show only depicts safe and realistic sex when they have a sponsor paying them.

[warping-realities]

Keeping Up With Old Friends (by the best of all @dumb-and-jocked & @callmecallmecrazy

It's a great pleasure to make images for this collaboration between two of my favorite authors. I had permission from both of them to do this and I spent a considerable amount of time trying to be up to par with their work, I don't know if I managed it but I still hope it's to your liking.

“Phil? Is that you?” Geoff could’ve sworn the man in front of him was an old classmate of his, having been lab partners their freshman year. The two had connected fairly well, with Geoff having hung out with the free-thinking, pot-smoking, curly-haired flower child a lot more than he thought he would. Except, scruffy and shaggy Phil was replaced with tailored-beard and straightened-locks Phil. Not only that, but his usual oversized hoodie and sweats had been replaced with a properly fit tee and jeans.

“Geoff! Hey man, how’s it going.” His voice was still the same lively and flamboyant pitch that it had always been. Phil met his friend in a hug over the cash register, squeezing Geoff a little harder than he had been prepared for.

“Surprised to see you here,” Geoff half-joked, knowing that the old Phil would never come close to a shopping mall, let alone a department store. If the job wasn’t so easy and the pay wasn’t so good, Geoff wouldn’t have ever entered either. Too bad college was so expensive.

“Ha! Yeah man, turns out they have some good stuff! Plus, it’s close to where I live.”

“Oh, did you finally move out of the dorms?”

“Yeah, I moved into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house.” The big smile he offered was met by a wide-eyed stare from Geoff. Phil was a free spirit, one who practically came out of the ‘60s. Last they’d talked, he’d been planning on living at an eco-friendly miniature house, certainly not at “prespter-prick incorporated”.

“What happened to living green?”

“Ya know, I wanted a change.” Phil shoved his hands into his pockets. “Plus, college loans are really bringing me down. I needed to save some money and fast. My uncle got me an in with the fraternity; he’s an alum.”

“Aren’t they, like, totally pretentious?” Geoff countered. “We used to joke about those preppy freaks and their smug arrogance.” 

Phil frowned, his expression made it seem as if he’d taken personal offense.

“Hey man, they’re cool. After my uncle had pointed out that I was a legacy, I got headhunted by the rush chair.  I’m not one of those over-confident princes having yacht parties and spending time at the country club.” Geoff’s tense muscles eased a little, causing Phil to smile. “I don’t think they do that kinda stuff anymore anyway.”  

He glanced at his phone, and then back at Geoff. Getting the message, Geoff quickly processed his items and had Phil pay. He was surprised to see Phil was buying more normal clothes. Cheap, standard tops and bottoms that were neither flamboyant or tame: just generic.

“Hey man, great seeing you,” Phil concluded the conversation politely. “Maybe we’ll hang out sometime? I gotta get back to the house!”

Geoff watched Phil walk out, noticing how well he filled out his jeans. The Phil he knew had been a short, skinny beanpole, similar to Geoff’s height but with less pudge. However, the new Phil’s buttocks had developed a sort of plumpness, just barely curving the pants out awkwardly as he walked away. 

“That was so strange,” Geoff said aloud, but he assumed that people changed. Phil seemed happy and healthy, and as long as he was saving money Geoff was happy for him. Maybe he always wanted to join a frat?

For the rest of his shift, Geoff continued thinking about the peculiar interaction, but by the end of the day he was too exhausted to think about anything. Once he had gotten back to his dorm, he lethargically changed and jumped into his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

— —

“Phil? Is that you?” The big man standing in front of the counter didn’t exactly physically resemble Phil. He was fairly big at about 5 ‘10 (a few inches taller than Phil) and the Henley shirt he wore couldn’t hide the beginnings of bulging pecs. And his hair, last time uncoiled but still at shoulder-length, was sheared down, pushed up, and shiny from cheap gel. The face was still the same, even though the hair made his face look a little square.

The young man looked back at Geoff confused for a moment before a tinge of understanding glittered in his eyes.

“Geoff Elliot,” his voice was noticeably slower and deeper than last time. While Geoff went in for a hug, Phil replied with a one-armed embrace and pat on the back. He practically grimaced when Geoff attempted for more affection.

“Phil! Man, it’s been awhile. I haven’t seen you since your last time here.”

“Yes, Geoff, I’ve been very busy with school. And please, call me Phillip, it’s more traditional.”

“Wow, still living with the Kappa Sigmas?”

“Yes, I’ve been acquainting very well. What about you, Geoff?”

“Oh ya know, I’m still in old Walker. It isn’t great, but it’s definitely got a sweet spot in the middle of campus.”

“Living comfortably?”

“Ha, you know I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Phillip noted Geoff’s pale skin and tired eyes. Geoff was taken aback by the outright disdain.

“Well, I’ve got to work if I want to get a degree.” Phillip just nodded, causing Geoff to carry the conversation. “You’re looking good. Do the Kappa Sigmas expect gym time?”

“Yes,” Phillip’s stern demeanor dropped a touch, allowing a bit more levity in his voice. “There’s an expansive gym at the country club. It’s free and they even give you a few hours a day to use it!” 

He was practically giddy as he talked, allowing Geoff to relax a bit. This was the Phil he knew, chirpy and friendly though now not as exceptionally outgoing. And if Geoff was being honest, Phil seemed extremely content with his new situation. 

“Have you picked up any sports? It seems like you’ve got the bod now,” Geoff joked, knowing that Phil hated physical activity. He playfully slapped one of Phil’s broad shoulders and was shocked at how firm the muscle was.

“I’ve been doing a lot of golf! I play with several of the other guys and even some of my uncle’s coworkers. I’m getting my handicap down too.”

“Oh, you’re playing golf?” Geoff hadn’t expected an answer, but if one came he would’ve guessed football or baseball–not golf.

“Yes, it’s very enjoyable. And great for business bonding. Chance for us men to talk about the frat, women, sports and the like. Say, you watch the game last weekend?”

That was wholly unlike Phil, but Geoff guessed he was probably throwing himself into the fraternity world.

“Nah, man, I’m not into basketball.”

“It’s football season.” His reply was so direct and unvarnished that Geoff had to grip the counter for support. “I know not everyone is into the NFL, but I assumed you would at least watch like any other man. And our team is having an exceptionally great season. 4-0 in conference play.”

Phillip kept talking about football as Geoff stared deep into his eyes. Was this really Phil? The guy used to pretend like he didn’t know what sports were. What was happening to him?

“Anyway, Geoff, it’s been great catching up,” Phillip said, dumping his items onto the register. Geoff was surprised to notice that Phil was purchasing only name brand items. Not expensive, but not generic either. ��Maybe we can grab some beers and watch a game sometime.” 

Phillip hastily paid for all of his items and walked out. Geoff couldn’t help but notice the increasingly larger derrière. His buttocks had developed a shelf-like quality, curving the cheap khakis out as he walked away. Its slight jiggling motion was a stunning contrast to the hard muscle covering the rest of his body.

“Yeah, great to see you Phil-lip,” Geoff forced out the last syllable. This was not the Phil he knew, but instead some dude named Phillip. Geoff continued on with the rest of his shift, the interaction slipping from his mind at the end of the day when he collapsed into bed.

— —

“Phil? Is that you? I mean, Phillip?” Geoff had hoped he wouldn’t see him again after their last encounter, but when he saw this barely-familiar-looking man his curiosity got the best of him. He told himself it was all in his head, but everything about these encounters were disturbing. Geoff wasn’t sure if it was steroids as his former buddy’s growth seemed extremely quick, but it could’ve just been the sudden makeover too. What was even crazier was the man next to him was somehow larger.

This Phillip was 6’4 and wore a baby blue oxford button-up with a yellow and blue striped repp tie. The shirt looked ready to burst as it was tight against the two firm mounds sticking out of the young man’s chest. On top of the set was a two-button navy blazer with the letters KE on the left side, which Geoff assumed stood for Kappa Sigma. His hair was much different, for the overgrown shag was now neatly cut, with short sides and tapered across the crown. The ivy league was sharply parted on the left side and held sturdily in place by an expensive looking pomade. Not only had his hair transformed, but his face had undergone a dramatic change too. His jaw, formerly a little pointed and sharp, spread wide and hung low, giving his face a distinguished lantern shape to match his newly-cleft chin. 

This Phillip stood ramrod straight while searching through a rack of new suits from Brooks Brothers. The man next to Phillip was older but otherwise nearly identical. He was thicker around the middle, but any gut he might have was hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage. His tie was black and grey with a subtle windowpane pattern, and his suit shared a similar palette.

The other man stared at Geoff for a moment before tapping Phillip on the shoulder.

“Pierson,” his voice was slow and deep. “I believe this boy is trying to get your attention.” 

The younger man turned towards the counter to see Geoff. A faint bit of recognition crossed his face momentarily.

“Geoff Elliot.” The voice was practically monotone, low and deep. He took a few powerful steps forward and offered a large, coarse handshake.

“Uncle,” Phillip turned to face the older man. “This is a friend from college, Geoff Elliot. Geoff, this is my uncle.” He gestured robotically between the two. The uncle offered his hand and it was the same rough shake.

“Nice to meet you…” Geoff sort of trailed off, hoping to get a first name.

“John Howard Johnson.” The reply was colorless. “Mr. Johnson will do.”

“Alright,” Geoff simply replied. “So, Phillip-”

“Please call me Pierson,” Phillip said curtly. “My uncle thinks I would be better suited professionally as Pierson.” The way he spoke, extremely even in both rhythm and pitch, was unnerving.

Geoff could make out some of Phil’s features in the hulking face before him. An upturned nose and naturally thin eyebrows over wide eyes resembled the Phil he knew. But the rest of the face clearly belonged to this cocky fratboy named Pierson.

“Okay, Pierson. So, any news about Greek Life?”

“I am very happy with the Kappa Sigmas. Life there is perfectly preppy.”

“That’s great. Glad to hear you’re doing good!”

“Yes, my uncle believes after college I will be an ideal candidate for his company, Hemplebaum Inc..”

“That place downtown with office drones filling foreclosures and manipulating bank accounts?”

“Correct,” Pierson stated blatantly.

“Huh, okay.” Geoff was getting sick of this conversation, and of this act. There was obviously something going on here, so he decided to just ask about it flat out.

“How long are you going to keep this up, Phil?”

“Pierson.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Geoff retorted. He knew it probably wasn’t best to argue with customers during his shift, but this was more important than a job. “How are you willing to sell your soul to some frat? We used to joke about these guys! Can’t you see something is wrong?”

“I’m offended by your tone, Geoff. And honestly,” he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves while disgustingly eyeing Geoff’s uniform. “I grew up. You could do with some growing.”

“You’ve grown into a mindless fratboy.”

“And you, Geoff, are still a child. We ‘mindless fratboys’ are very well groomed and dressed. We speak with clarity and courtesy, and are diligent and helpful. We truly represent the apex of manhood.”

“Pierson,” Mr. Johnson suddenly interrupted the argument. Pierson stiffened up and faced his uncle. “I’m glad you had this chance to catch up with your acquaintance, but we have wasted time.”

“Of course, Uncle.” 

They turned to leave, but Pierson swiftly reached into a blazer pocket and pulled out a thick black card. 

“If you ever decide to grow up.” Pierson placed it on the register before he and his uncle left, giving Geoff a good look at their backsides. Despite the broad shoulders and bulging pectorals, both had a distinctly pear shaped body, with wide hips and massive butts that shook just a touch as they walked. Pierson’s rump was especially luscious, bouncing around inside those tight, pastel madras shorts. It gave Geoff a boner as he watched it wiggle. Sure, the man was the monster that replaced his old friend, but he had to admit the new douchebag look was kind of hot.

Geoff grabbed the card from the counter and examined it. It was a thick card stock and slightly textured with the Greek letters obnoxiously large in one corner. Right in the middle read “Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” infuriating Geoff. That was absolutely not his last name, in fact none of those were his names! Had he changed his entire personality to fit in with these people?  Had Phil been putting on a fake persona the entire time he was in college? Was this who he truly was? Geoff calmed himself down before reasoning that the name changing was a deeper sign. This whole thing had become so ridiculous he couldn’t just ignore it. He’d have to do some investigating.

— —

“This is Pierson Buckley Folsom VI.” 

Geoff didn’t actually want to go through with his plan, but he had to make an attempt. If he could insert himself safely into this Pierson’s friend group, he might just be able to figure out what happened to Phil. Sure, Geoff wasn’t really built for the whole undercover thing, but he owed it to his old friend. Plus, Geoff knew if he let the matter sit, it would just continue to haunt him.

“Hey, Pierson. This is Geoff.” 

“Hello Geoff, how may I assist you?” He was already straight to the point.

“Well, you know I was thinking about what you said back in the mall. Growing up and all that stuff.”

“Ah,” Pierson’s stale voice came from the other end. “I assume you are interested in becoming a Kappa Sigma then?”

“Yes.” Geoff swallowed before continuing, “I would like to become a Kappa Sigma.”

“If that is so,” Pierson began monotonously. “We have a rush event this weekend at the Rolling Acres Country Club. Come golfing this weekend, I know you will enjoy it.”

“That sounds exciting!” It totally did not. He did not want to go to a rush event in the most posh, expensive neighborhood in the city. “What do I need to wear? I’m sure they have a dress code.”

“Meet me at the Kappa Sigma house before. I will have appropriate clothing.”

“Sounds good, thank you for your help, Pierson.”

“You are welcome, Geoff.” 

And just like that, the plan was in motion. This weekend, Geoff would be infiltrating enemy territory, so it was now time to do some research. He didn’t want to be suspicious, but as far as he could tell, the only person who thought something was amiss was him.

— —

The Kappa Sigma Alpha house was a well-built, classic home that looked like it belonged in Connecticut or somewhere else classy. The elegant mansion was extremely large, just like all of its brothers. It was so huge in fact that it had a room strictly dedicated for watching football, and that wasn’t even the media room! According to Pierson, there was a room with a movie projector on another floor. The football room was just a man cave according to him, except it was a sunlit, high-ceilinged game room. It was about five times bigger than the dorm Geoff was currently living in, which was only half the size of Pierson’s room.  

When Pierson had answered the door, he was dressed in a full monochromatic suit.

Geoff had expected something more casual, so he was wearing a faded pair of khakis and a plaid button-up. Geoff’s bulkier counterpart was intensely embarrassed by his attire and insisted he put on one of his old suits. Geoff thought about protesting, but instead allowed it. He fit quite well in it, as Pierson’s old suit was from Phil’s era. Geoff hated the whole dress-up ordeal, but he needed to fit in as much as possible, and to do that he would have to do everything Pierson said. 

“Are we going golfing in suits?” Geoff asked innocently, unsure if they’d actually be participating in the sport.

“That’s absurd!” Pierson remarked, his tone just barely leaving its usual flat level as he dodged the question. “We will be changing at the club.”

Geoff couldn’t imagine how most people showed up dressed like this, but he would do whatever made Pierson comfortable. And apparently, the change had been necessary. After they got past the gate and into the main clubhouse, every man he passed had a tie on. Some of the brothers were already dressed in polos and khaki shorts, with the color of their outfits being the only way Geoff could figure out who was who. After Pierson had checked them in for the rush event, they headed to the lockers to change. Once the two had stripped, Pierson handed Geoff a small white piece of fabric. Geoff was horrified to find it was a pair of whitey-tighties, completely generic besides a tiny logo and a thin, blue line running through the band.

“What,” Geoff asked. “Dude, seriously?”

“All of us wear them,” Pierson blatantly stated, showing how he had stripped down to his own. Geoff had only noticed Pierson’s behind before, but now he took his chance to examine the whole body. Pierson was thick from below his pecs down to his butt, no real waistline. The holes for the legs in Pierson’s briefs clung tightly to his thighs, making the curve of his extremely wide buttocks stand out. His bulge was extremely pronounced too, pushing the briefs to their limit. Everything about Pierson was just so big nowadays, his proportions practically comic level. He looked good.

Knowing he had to do it, Geoff quickly stepped into the briefs. The briefs made their way up both of his legs and finally began to engulf his private regions. He pulled the waistband up and let them sink into place. The bright, white fabric comfortably held his body from the tip-top of thighs to just above his pubic bush.

“Let me help you with those.” 

Pierson glided over to Geoff and dutifully pulled the briefs higher, a lot higher. Geoff’s belly button was now completely hidden, giving him a slight wedgie and his small package an even smaller moose knuckle. His flat bottom seemed more vertical than ever, and his 3-inch soft dick was nowhere near whatever Pierson was packing. Geoff should have been in pain, he should have been protesting, but something had subtly changed inside of him. The moment was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. The look of disgust he originally had on his face had faded away, replaced with a simple, charming smile.

With that done, Pierson handed Geoff some pink Bermuda shorts and a blue polo, each made of a stretchy and breathable material.

“You sure these are mine?” Geoff asked, noticing that the sizes were much too large. “I’m not sure I’ll fit.”

“I’m certain we’re the same size, Geoff.” Pierson replied, putting on his own set. The striped Hampton Lime polo he wore beautifully accentuated his pectoral shelf and–after being tucked into some tight cobalt Bermuda shorts–his blooming muscle gut. Geoff didn’t actually know the names of the hues, Pierson had strictly informed him beforehand. Pulled up to rest just below Pierson’s brief’s waistband, the shorts were held up by a fashionable belt that Geoff knew had a price tag with at least 3 digits. The shorts not only continued to advertise Pierson’s laughably large bottom, but also displayed powerful calves that looked as if they were stolen from a marble statue.

Although Pierson was certain they were the same size, they most certainly were not. Geoff was not surprised when his outfit failed to fit. The belt he had barely kept the shorts from falling, and even though the shirt was tucked in, it still draped over him more like a curtain. Unlike the briefs that had fit perfectly, the clothes were meant for a man much larger than him. A fraternity brother.

The final pieces were short, plain white socks and a pair of large golf shoes. Once again, Pierson had insisted the two were the same size, but Geoff knew his feet would never fit in the Size 14 giants. Even after tying the tightest knot he could, the shoes were still fairly roomy and loose, causing Geoff to focus intensely on every step in hopes of not tumbling over. Sighing in defeat, he noticed a small emblem on one of his socks, the same he had seen before on the briefs. He checked the other sock, and then also found it on his polo over the left breast. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Geoff inquired about it.

“I don’t think I recognize this brand,” he started. “Are we wearing Ralph Lauren?”

“Not exactly,” Pierson replied, who had also finished getting dressed. “It’s a partner brand of Polo Ralph Lauren that made an exchange with the Carmichael Corporation. Apparently some financial deal.”

“What is the Carmichael Corporation?”

“They are an investing partner with Hemplebaum. The two often work together on acquisition projects. The event today is co-hosted by both companies. A lot of Kappa Sigma Alpha’s alum actually work at the companies, as the pair and the fraternity are continually functioning together. Almost like a cycle, I assume.” Pierson chuckled at that.

“I see.” Geoff smiled at the new piece of evidence. Not only did he just find that a company was in on the ordeal, but three. There was definitely something peculiar about this “financial deal,” and whatever these Hemplebaum and Carmichael organizations were, they had to be behind the disappearance of Phil.

The two then made their way out to the course. A plethora of young, muscular men and older counterparts were already golfing away, chatting merrily about subjects Geoff knew he had no interest in. Stocks and economical talk were topics that were unsurprisingly extremely boring. Pierson made sure to introduce as many people as he could as they walked along, and Geoff made sure to mentally write down each suspect in his head. 

There was Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV from Carmichael, a man slightly older than the pair but identical in size and manner to Pierson. He was wearing a violet polo, docksiders, and light gray madras shorts. Then there was Henderson Harold Hearst from Hemplebaum; he shared the same age and exaggerated proportions with Pierson’s uncle, Mr. Johnson, who was also there. He was wearing a white sports polo, black golf cap, and a pair of golf trousers that somehow expanded over his massive thighs, showing off Mr. Hearst’s thick trunks and amble, jiggly buttocks that pressed generously backwards. 

There were a plethora of other businessmen that were also introduced to Geoff along the way. Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr. from Carmichael; Emerson Foley Gillingham-Smyth from Carmichael; Rotterham Casper Cornelius Southard from Hemplebaum; John Millard Koehler III from Carmichael. All the titles and accentuated names made Geoff’s head want to explode, but he hadn’t even met a quarter of the populus yet. There were still all the Kappa Sigma boys with names like Thurston F. Walbridge IV, Wyndham Judge Kilbourn V, and Hunt Johnstonbough. Geoff couldn’t understand how people remembered all of these obsessive, extensive, and money-grubbing men and their names. All of the businessmen and fraternity brothers were just a bunch of wealthy blockheads.

A sharp, static shock zipped inside of Geoff’s high-waisted briefs, causing him to pause momentarily. The shock sent a signal up his anus and tickled his prostate ever so slightly. In his head, Geoff immediately reevaluated his previous thoughts. These men weren’t obsessive, they were just clean-cut and well-maintained. And their names weren’t extensive and money-grubbing, they were traditional, conservative, and sumptuous. These corrections brought a cordial smile to Geoff’s face. Only now noticing he had stopped walking, Geoff jogged to catch back up to Pierson, causing his slightly-larger buttocks to gingerly bob.

As they walked out onto the course, golf bags strapped across their backs, Geoff could see a tall figure in the distance seeming to greet them with a small wave. Pierson returned the gesture amiably.

“Who’s that?”

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV. I invited him to play with us. Prescott is the Kappa Sigma rush chair. ”

“You invited the rush chair?”

“Prescott, yes. He’s been a close friend since I attended preparatory school, you should know that, Geoff.”

Geoff did not know this, as Pierson hadn’t existed less than a semester ago.

“I thought you would get on quite well. Besides, he’s on good terms with many important people. If you want to join the fraternity brotherhood, no one is a better connection.”

Prescott was in stretchy plum-colored golf trousers, a ballcap with the KE logo sitting proudly on the front, and a smoky-gray polo exactly like the ones they were wearing. Geoff had a bit of a shock realizing how much Prescott looked like Pierson. His body filled out the polo tremendously with broad shoulders, baseball-like biceps, and a thick but strong core. He also had that overly-wide posterior that led into legs and calves formed by deadlifts and deep squats. His hair–which was sheared down into a practically flat bit of black hair, shiny and parted–was the only noticeable difference between the two, but otherwise Geoff might have mistaken the two for brothers or cousins.

“Greetings!” Prescott shook Pierson’s hand and pulled him in for a pat on the back. For his part, Pierson tensed up a bit but did not resist.

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV, this is Geoffrey Elliot. We had few classes together last year, and now he is interested in rushing.” Before Geoff could correct the error of his name, Prescott grabbed him into a similar handshake-to-hug.

“Pleasure to meet you, Geoffrey,” Prescott said calmly. “Well, let’s play.”

“Are we taking the cart?” Geoff asked, pointing to a line of white, polished golf carts. He really didn’t want to walk around the entire course. He hadn’t exerted that amount of physical energy since high school gym.

“Of course not!” Prescott and Pierson chortled before Prescott continued. “I’d figure us three needed to work less on our glutes and more cardio!” Prescott then reached out and gave both Pierson and Geoff hard butt slaps. Geoff wanted to object, but a momentarily jarring jolt from his briefs once again silenced him.

“We all know this will not be enough to alleviate that problem,” Pierson quipped as they made their way to the first hole. Geoffrey completely forgot what he was thinking about and followed with a polite smile, his shorts now tighter against his inflated rump.

Prescott was extremely friendly and a little physical. Upon learning that Geoffrey had never golfed, Prescott took it upon himself to teach him everything he could, resulting in him saddling up behind him to correct stance and form, but also jokingly pressing his crotch into Geoffrey’s butt and thrusting. The boys all laughed at the horseplay, with Geoffrey nervously trying to hide his boner. If he wanted to fit in around these traditional, conservative men, he’d have to be a lot more careful. Luckily, his member had softened before anyone noticed, returning to its previous 4-inches soft.

Geoffrey had a hard time hating Prescott and the Kappa Sigma brothers. Taking away all the pomp of politics and social structure, Prescott seemed to be an incredibly friendly alpha; the kind of guy who would be quarterback, homecoming king, and class president (all things Geoffrey learned Prescott was). Geoffrey began to recognize that all the Kappa Sigma, Carmichael, and Hemplebaum men had so many things in common. There were so many things about them that Geoffrey really liked. They were gorgeously male and embodied masculine sophistication. They were groomed and cleaned, polite and cheerful. They were such ideal men, what Pierson had called “perfectly preppy”.

“My girlfriend will literally do anything I ask, that’s how dedicated she is to me!” Prescott bragged in a slow but still gloating voice.

“She was always into you,” Pierson added.

“Yes, sir. Her dad’s super rich, one of the department managers at the Carmichael Corporation. He’s inundated with old money. But what about you?” Prescott got a mischievous glint as his eyes located Pierson’s crotch. “Are you getting those fellows ready? It is almost breeding season.”

“What does that mean?” Geoffrey inquired.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI here is getting married.”

“Congratulations!” Geoffrey replied enthusiastically, forgetting that Pierson hadn’t had a partner less than a month ago.

“Thank you. We’re finishing some final details; her mother is very specific. Sometimes, she acts as though I’m unworthy.”

“She cannot do better,” Prescott assured.

“She is a perfectly suitable spouse. I am very pleased with the situation,” Pierson affirmed before setting up his shot and launching the ball.  He let out a whistle of appreciation as it landed in the green just a few feet away from the hole.

“Good shot,” Prescott and Geoffrey said simultaneously. Geoffrey hadn’t noticed his voice was beginning to imitate the other two’s, as it was now a little deeper and even-handed.

“Geoffrey, I know it’s late notice, but I hope you can at least attend the wedding. The club has strict guest limits and I’m running out of passes for nonmembers for the bachelor party.”

“Thank you, Pierson. I’m sure I can make it.”

Geoffrey didn’t want to attend for investigative purposes however, he just wanted to support his close friend Pierson.

“And if you join the fraternity and get your membership before, you can enjoy all the heterosexual fun.” Prescott winked at Geoffrey and snagged a nipple that was now stiffly pressed out from the polo. Geoffrey had somehow not felt the weight of his upper body before as he walked, as his chest now stuck out and increased his height by a few inches. Geoffrey should’ve cared more about his enlarged torso, but for some reason walking around with pecs straining a polo felt incredible, like a huge dose of testosterone had been injected into him.

After a few more rounds, the trio decided to take an intermission and head back to the club. The main ballroom at the Rolling Acres was a lively place stocked with booze and many other pompous and colossal-sized men. Before Geoffrey could figure out what was going on, Pierson and Prescott were already removing the caps from a collection of glass bottles and pouring multiple glasses full of amber liquid.

“Come on, sit,” Prescott instructed, slapping Geoffrey’s bottom before taking a seat. Originally, Geoffrey had intended on asking some analytical questions and refusing the drinks, but after a quick agonizing wince he discovered he didn’t want to upset his new friends, or the financial connections they represented. Taking a big swig of the liquid, he sat down in the chair, his increasingly wide and plump behind consuming nearly ¾ths of the extra wide seat.

“You’re getting pretty good at the trap shot, Pierson Buckley Folsom VI, ” Prescott toasted Pierson.

“You’re still better, Prescott Neilson Powers IV,” Pierson was already refilling his drink happily. The trio continued chatting until Pierson eventually excused himself to the toilet, leaving Geoffrey alone with a man he thought would have been detestable. But this afternoon was fun. He got a small knot in his stomach as Prescott turned to him with a viperous grin.

“Geoff? Geoff Elliot?” Prescott suddenly said, dropping his voice low. Geoffrey was confused for a moment, as he hadn’t thought of himself as Geoff in a while. It was almost shocking, but then he cautiously nodded yes.

“Please, call me Geoffrey, Prescott.”

“Oh, I will, Geoffrey,” he emphasized the name. “You look good, and I have to admit I was wrong about you, Geoffrey. When Pierson had said he had invited you, I did not think you would make it. But here you are: willing and able, and looking much better with the muscles might I add. These clothes have done wonders for you.”

“Thank you, Prescott. I am very happy spending time with the Kappa Sigma men and the alumni.” Prescott nodded and smiled as the robotic words left Geoffrey’s mouth. Geoffrey had been content with his answer, but he hadn’t processed the real meaning behind Prescott’s comment. Absentmindedly scratching his calf, he should’ve been surprised by the amount of fur that caught in his grip. It also should have shocked him how firm his muscles felt; the thick, robust quads and strong, sculpted forelegs now filled his salmon shorts appropriately. They were also helped by his waist, which had expanded out both in the pelvic and gluteal regions.

“I like having my fellow fraternity brothers around. It is truly a real lifetime bond, care to agree?” Geoffrey nodded as Prescott took another deep swig. “Something that really defines a man: who he is and who he’s going to be.” 

Prescott then seemed to stare at Geoffrey curiously. For his part, Geoffrey had no idea what to say, and so stayed silent. “If I’d known this is who you were going to be, I’d have made sure you were my brother a long time ago. Of course, I knew Geoff, but not Geoffrey. Not big, strapping Geoffrey.”

“Yes,” Geoffrey stirred his glass and sat there.

“And I still have yet to meet whom you will become. You still have a ways to go until you have finished.”

“Finished?”

“The rush event, of course. You did not think it was over, did you? It is only a quarter past one you jester!” Prescott then grabbed Geoffrey’s head and gave him a playful noogie. The respectable man’s knuckles drove apart Geoffrey’s hair, causing the slightly-greasy afro to spill out a little more.

“Your hair has been a little off today,” Prescott noted. “Did you use enough pomade this morning?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey confirmed. “I believe I did.” He fixed his hair precariously, making sure all the edges were still held together like a helmet. Geoffrey liked his textured ivy league cut chipper yet sharp, just like the fine fellows of Kappa Sigma Alpha.

“Now, Geoffrey, what do you think Geoffrey is like in college?”

“I’m Geoffrey.”

“Correct, but these past few semesters you have not been. I just wonder what you wish you had done?”

“I wish I’d attended more sports games. I love football, and enjoy playing tennis and golf.” The answers had been installed in his head without him knowing.

“Splendid!”

“I’d want to have a group of men to watch sports with,” Geoffrey added.

“Indeed, every game we have an event at the house.” 

Geoffrey stared at him with glassy eyes. He was confused. It seemed like Prescott wanted him to say something, but he could only shrug.

“Would have been nice.”

“I do hope you apply for the fraternity. The brotherhood would be a good fit for you.”

“I’ve really enjoyed myself so far,” Geoffrey admitted. “And the prospect of living in the manor is tantalizing.”

“Where are you living nowadays?”

“I have a dorm in Walker. It’s a heap, but I live alone.”

“Have you thought about living with other men? Such ideal, perfectly preppy men?”

“What?! No, I haven’t, I mean..” Geoffrey sputtered a little, not considering that factor in his infiltration plan. It seemed like a dream, to be surrounded by so many gaudy, haughty, and sexy men. After a momentary painful shudder, Geoffrey realized he would love to be surrounded by so many prosperous, presumptuous, and handsome brothers. Of course, his definition of handsome was a man who was traditional, well-heeled, and physically attractive to women. Geoffrey believed that men ought to align themselves to the only orientation, one where his 5-inch soft dick didn’t get aroused to the thought of other gentlemen.

“I’m not sure it’s right for me,” Geoffrey announced truthfully, authorizing a smirk from Prescott.

“It’s right for Geoffrey. For football-playing, fraternity brother, corporate shark Geoffrey.” Prescott smiled and got up from the table, ushering Geoffrey to follow him.

“If you become a brother, either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum will pay off your student debt as long as you work a year-long internship with them after you graduate. I can set you up.”

“Really?”

“I always support my Kappa Sigma Alpha brothers.” His impish grin was the only signal Geoffrey had before another blow to his bottom. After a little excruciating twitch, Geoffrey returned to reality, his voluminous buttocks still vibrating as they had now accumulated a soft layer of fat that made him even wider.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond!”  Prescott chanted and stared at Geoffrey. Geoffrey hesitated, but his mind wanted it so bad. He wanted Prescott to like him, to be his brother. Geoffrey wanted to be one of the classy, dashing brothers.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond.”  Prescott smiled as Geoffrey repeated the stanza back to him.

Pierson then showed up a moment later from behind them.

“What did I miss?”

“Just the rushing of our newest member here!”

“Newest member?” Pierson replied excitedly. “You are going to become a brother, Geoffrey?”

“I must!” Geoffrey replied eagerly. He wanted to become one of these perfectly preppy brothers, which kind of went against his reason for coming here in the first place. But, why was he here again? Was it not to be rushed? For some reason, Geoffrey felt like he was forgetting something, but it didn’t bother him enough to dwell on it. Any inappropriate memory of infiltration or distaste had been sapped from his increasingly cordial mind.

“That makes me so elated!” Pierson exclaimed. “Let us go find my uncle then, that way we can have him officiate the necessary forms.”

“If I can have a moment,” Geoffrey paused the celebration. “I would like to use the restroom.”

“Well…” Pierson hesitated.

“Of course!” Prescott gave a reassuring glance to Pierson, although Geoffrey didn’t know why. “Around the corner over yonder and then westbound. We will go retrieve Mr. Johnson while you alleviate.”

“My gratitude.” Not only had Geoffrey’s tone adopted the same deep, flat, and robotic tone, but his vocabulary slowly became much more sophisticated. As he strolled over to the restroom, Geoffrey now felt the weight of his body as he walked. He hadn’t noticed before, but he had settled out around 6’3 thanks to his extended limbs. His newly broadened shoulders filled out his dark periwinkle polo nicely. They made him feel like he took up the entire doorway as he entered the lavatory, and his big, wide stride made his butt and crotch kind of wiggle as he walked. He could feel the fabric of his salmon shorts tighten around his balls and release, then tighten on the other side. It was mildly arousing.

After taking a hearty leak, Geoffrey pulled his briefs back up above his belly button. It was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. And that’s what he wanted after all, to fit in. Why be unique and different when one could be conventional, classical, and consistent? That’s why he had come here in the first place, because he wanted to be like these men. Geoffrey wanted to be a Kappa Sigma, and after that work at either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.

Washing his hands in the sink, Geoffrey looked up and was very pleased to see the extremely handsome young man in front of him. He filled out his clothes almost to the point of bursting, from the Size 14 golf shoes to the Philadelphia blue polo. As he admired his form in the mirror, Geoffrey couldn’t help but brush the smooth-shaved line of his prominent jaw. He really could swear that his face had been almost heart-shaped, but now there was a distinctly hexagonal shape to the thing. Geoffrey was practically a hypermasculine parody: low brow, big nose, and wide jaw with a gigantic cleft chin: just like all the other men here.

Once he had finished appreciating his form, he exited the restroom and found Pierson, Prescott, and Mr. Johnson all chatting merrily. When they noticed his entrance, they immediately turned to allow him into the conversation.

“What can I do for you, Geoffrey?” Mr. Johnson asked. Geoffrey tried to find a concise answer for that question, but found that impossible.

“I want to become a Kappa Sigma and work with business and finance after graduation. I want every piece of advice you can give me.”

“Why is that?” Mr. Johnson was suppressing a smug smile though Geoffrey didn’t notice.

“I want to be just like you. And Pierson Buckley Folsom VI. And Prescott Neilson Powers IV. And all the men here at Rolling Acres.”

“Enjoy the event?”

“Immensely. I belong here with these kinds of men. I want to move into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house, not live in some pathetic university building.” He cast a disgusted look before continuing.  “I want to become an alumni and work under the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.”

Mr. Johnson smiled. “So, Geoffrey, are you willing to fully commit yourself to the Kappa Sigmas?”

“I am, sir,” he replied in a soldier-like manner.

“Excellent. Well, I can proudly say you are approaching the physical standards. Let me address one concern.” Mr. Johnson carefully moved his massive arm behind Geoffrey and patted his buttocks gently. Geoffrey didn’t react as a gentle sting pulsated his prostate and a charming smile adorned his face. Mr. Johnson’s hand moved away to reveal an enormous rump identical to the others’, one thick with muscles underneath but concealed underneath a spongy layer of fat. With the salmon Bermuda shorts now tight against his behind, the crotch of his shorts were pulled tight into a prominent moose knuckle, also showcasing his 7-inch soft dick.

“Yes, that is more appropriate.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, there is a rather large change that I believe is a necessity for your progression into the Kappa Sigmas as well as your new social circle.”

“What is that sir?”

“Your name, it is just too common and destitute. You agree?” Geoffrey snapped back confirmation even though it made his head spin. “Personally, I have always been very fond of names associated with old money.”

“You want me to change my last name?” Geoffrey asked, slightly confused.

“Not exactly. Your entire name will have to be reformed.”

“My entire name?”

“Well, I thought you wanted to succeed.”

“Yes sir.”

“So you want to change your name. What do you think would work?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“So you want my help, is that what you are saying?” The words were coming so fast and Mr. Johnson’s eyes were so enticing that Geoffrey nodded.

“Yes sir, please tell me what my name should be.”

Mr. Johnson crossed his arms over his shelf of pecs, clearly relishing in the moment even though Geoffrey had no idea why.

“This is my favorite part.” Geoffrey didn’t say anything, as his superior clearly didn’t want him to.  And he’d just asked for help so there was no need to say anything. “It’s a great moment, when you realize you want to be whatever I want you to be.” 

Mr. Johnson ceremoniously pulled a form out of his suit pocket and presented it to Geoffrey. “This is your fraternity contract. You don’t need to bother with the details. Just sign your name.“

In very literal terms, Geoffrey would be singing away his life. The fraternity, the proud men of Kappa Sigma, and all of the alumni who worked at the Carmichael Corporation and Hemplebaum were now permanently immune from any legal repercussions. Of course, there never would be, as they had plenty of experience in this sort of thing.

Geoffrey was about to sign, but he noticed a different name was listed on the contract.

“It is supposed to be made out by Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.?”

“A name I believe will fit you suitably.” Mr. Johnson offered a pen to Geoffrey and gave a conceited smirk. “Just sign.”

The order immediately processed through Geoffrey’s brain, bringing a clubby smile to his face as he wrote out his new signature. Once he had finished, Mr. Johnson took the contract back and made his way to the ballroom stage. He signaled for Geoffrey to follow him.

“Hello?” Mr. Johnson tested a mic, his lifeless bass resonant across the room. “I would like to request every man’s attention please.”

Geoffrey watched on as all the men in the room turned to look their way. So many masculine men dressed to the tens in lavish suits and colorful polos. They were all so refined, so perfectly preppy.

“I would like to announce our first success of the annual Kappa Sigma Alpha rush event: the newest man of Kappa Sigma, Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.!”

The crowded room burst into a controlled round of applause. Godfrey felt giddy, proud to become a part of this fine organization. After the room had calmed down, Mr. Johnson and Godfrey rejoined Pierson and Prescott. They continued a fascinating discussion about budgetary and monetary issues, as a recent Hemplebaum acquisition of an old theatre downtown had created quite a profit. Godfrey felt right as home, as if he had always meant to be a Kappa Sigma. He instantly embraced his new role in life and quickly was accepted as a full brother by the other men.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. After Godfrey, there were eight other boys who were rushed into the Kappa Sigmas. Godfrey didn’t realize that at the beginning of the day, these boys had all been exactly like him: crude, coarse, and shoddy. In fact, Godfrey didn’t realize that he had been like that at all. His memories had slowly shifted, causing him to remember a wealthier upbringing, one where he had pampered and shaped to become a Kappa Sigma man over the last 21 years.

“To be frank,” Pierson started as they made their way back out to the first hole. “I did not foresee you transitioning so fast, let alone becoming the first pledge of the day.”

“You should recognize that I have been training for this my entire life,” Godfrey replied sternly.

“Oh, I do,” Pierson conceded. “But I will need some testament to that claim. Four strokes is par.”

Godfrey turned to Pierson and gave a broad, bland smile.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” he declared with a club in his hand. “I’ll only need one.”

[bunnyyamor]

[ OCTOBER 14TH ] VILLAIN! IZUKU MIDORIYA x fem! reader

synopsis; the villain of the city, deku, has just kidnapped you, a normal citizen. he is wanting to make you his. wk; 3k

warnings; mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, dark content, humiliation, non-con, spanking, paddle play, chocking, fingering (anal), creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, nicknames, bondage, violence, overstimulation, sub/dom dynamic, edging, bdsm, kidnapping, blackmail, power dynamics, anal play, orgasm denial, beta read!

notes; i had posted this on the 13th but for some reason tumblr wont put this on the tags idk why.

-nav : kinktober m.list : kinktober taglist

evil was on the rise. many villains roamed the cities, practicing evil. conquering so much, affecting so many people's lives. 

that was currently you. it was a muggy, rainy morning. you were off to work your shift at the cafe being a barista. you longed for the smell of roasting coffee beans and now that you thought of it, who knows if you were to smell that ever again. 

“shit,” you cried as you held your phone up to your ear. the name displayed was ‘mom’. “pick up, pick up.” you repeatedly called her. your converses met with the concrete as you zigzagged between dumpsters and items discarded in the alley ways. the snapping of your head turning back as you tried to see if someone was after you. 

you felt his presence. his touch. someone was out to get you.

the breath in your voice was coming out more strained as you tried to keep the pace in your sprinting. it was burning your throat. your legs were becoming tired and weak. 

“please, this can’t be the end.” a tear fell down your face. 

suddenly, you were met with a dead end, a brick wall. “no!’ you slapped, punched the brick, not caring that your knuckles were bleeding. 

“i am not rich! here, take my money.”

a dark chuckle echoed in the alley way, “i don’t want that, idiot.”

you fell to your knees. head hiding between your hands as you sobbed, “then what do you want? i don’t have much.”

“for someone so irresistible, you are utterly stupid. it’s not material, it’s a game. it’s the chase. the way your heart is pounding from the running and the fear. it’s the excitement and thrill. the adrenaline pumping through my veins. y/n l/n-”

“how do you know my name?”

he continued without answering your question, “i plan to kill you. i plan to make you the front page of the news. girl dies because of the most wicked villain ever…deku.”

a dark shadow appeared in front of you. in a flash you were hit in the face, knocking you out cold into a black abyss. the single flow of tear falling down your cheek. 

you woke up, startled. thinking everything was a nightmare. but the tug of your wrists in handcuffs connected to the chair was enough evidence to show you, this wasn’t no dream. 

“help! help!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. you didn’t want to die. not like this. “please someone save me!”

“quiet already, god you’ve been nagging all this time! nag, nag, nag! when are you gonna shut up?” the voice exclaimed again. you saw his shadow, the dark outline of his body in the shadows.

“d-deku was it. is that your name.”

“being all sweet will not help you out in this situation. besides, you don’t know who i am?”

you were flustered, should you know. 

annoyed and impatient with waiting for your answer, deku walked into the light. his body towered over yours. the side’s of his head were shaved and it was green. he wore an all black outfit, each muscle making an outline in the suit. he had some dry blood splattered across his face, perhaps from you when he attacked you. “is this better now?” he clenched his jaw in arrogance. 

you took a good look at him. why did he want you?

“why don’t you take a picture? it’ll last longer. oh yeah, that’s right,” deku appeared in front of you at the speed of light. he threw his hands in the air and smacked them on the arm rests, “because you can’t move your arms. or your legs.” he tsked. “pity, i would have loved to see that ass jiggle as you walked. well, i kinda did. i saw you run. damn you run fast too. i mean, not as fast as me,” deku smirked as he sniffed the side of your hair. he hummed, “your perfume mixed with your sweat is enough to dry a man crazy. that were, if i were a man. sometimes i feel i am a god.”

you tried to release yourself from the bondage, “what do you want deku? i already told you i don’t have money. and this little game of yours, why don’t you just end it? or are you here to tortue me?”

he tapped his lip in thought. in other circumstances this cute stance would be adorable, in this moment his thinking scared the shit out of you. “hmm, well if you count fucking you till your legs give out a tortue then yeah, i’m gonna tortue you so hard.”

your eyes widened and you almost wanted to cry again. 

“i’m just kidding,” deku laughed loudly as he smacked his thigh. “ you should of seen your face. you were all like ahhh.” deku lifted your chin up, all submissive eyes on him. your neck pressed against his groin. “or am i just kidding? i mean, you are incredibly sexy. i’ve seen you around. in fact, i ordered a coffee from you the other day. i was wearing glasses, it was a pretty good disguise and i knew at that moment i had to have you.” his eyes darkened as the pupils enlarged. “i’m gonna have my way with you y/n and there’s nothing you can do about it. you can’t cry for help, can’t call for anyone. i’m gonna fuck you so good you are going to be begging me to continue fucking you. and then and only then, depending on how good you feel, will i actually see if i’ll let you live. one move and poof, splat, you’re dead. understand me?”

you shook your head, “no, stop! no i don’t-”

he grabbed your face harshly in his grip, tightening it. “i said, do you understand me, slut?”

you gulped, you knew what you needed to do. “i-i understand.” something heated up inside you. why was this sort of turning you on? was it his aggressiveness? his ownership of you? 

you noticed with how close he was to you his freckles. he was such an attractive man, but crazy. 

you quickly clenched your thighs, hoping deku wouldn’t notice. 

his green eyes lowered down to your action, “are you wet, whore?”

you winced. you didn’t want him to know that. “n-no!”

“tell me the truth! don’t lie!” he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, gripping it hard. 

“yes okay. i’m sorry! i d-don’t know what’s wrong with me. b-but i hate you! i hate you with my every being and i’m scared! help! help me!” you tried again, maybe this time it would work. 

“awww,” deku feigned sympathy. “i know, i know. but see, good girls don’t lie. next time you lie to me i will rip you to shreds. don’t do that. here are the rules, no lying, no trying to run away, no being a bad girl or i’m gonna have to punish you. and you hate me? that’s cute cause after my cock is digging inside your wet pussy you’re gonna love me. now strip for me.”

“wh-what? you want me to strip for you?”

deku crossed his arms over his thick chest, rolling his eyes, “another rule, do as you are told. and no asking a hundred million fucking questions. i’m already hard.” he went down to situate his cock. and sure enough you saw a huge bulge through his suit since his suit was spandex. it was huge! you didn’t mean to stare but it held your gaze, hypnotizing you. 

“enough staring! if you’re a good girl i can let you touch it. so listen.”

you gulped, you didn’t want to be embarrassed this way, it was too much. 

deku unhandcuffed you and stuck the key and handcuffs in his pocket. he stood like a looming shadow, waiting for your move. 

your shaky hands first started unbuttoning your shirt. you looked away, not used to stripping naked for a stranger. 

“look at me,” deku growled as he forcefully shoved your face to look into his eyes. 

you took your shirt off then you went for your pants. you managed to take them off while sitting, afraid to even move in case that made him mad. then you unclasped your bra. letting the material fall down to expose your breasts. in all of this your eyes never left deku’s and his stare got more intense and dark. 

he inhaled seeing your perky nipples stand for attention. you noticed his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

after your bra then you went and took your panty off. feeling the cool air hit your wet cunt. 

deku bent down on his knees and opened up your legs. opening up your folds and inspecting your pussy ever so closely. 

“as i suspected,” he chuckled, “you are a little whore. look at you soaking wet. from being treated like shit.” his gloved middle finger ran up on your slit, collecting your ooze. his eyes looked for yours in reaction. 

you bit your lip, trying to hide a moan. 

“slut,” deku spat as he stopped touching you and backed away. he went to a warehouse table nearby and looked into his duffel bag. he rummaged through it and then threw an object on the floor. it was a wooden paddle. 

“pick that up,” deku ordered you. 

you stood up, feeling goosebumps litter your body. 

“no slut! on all fours. like a dog.” he smiled evilly. 

“yes, deku,” you went on all fours and crawled your way to him to retrieve the paddle. you wanted to crawl in a hole with how bashful you were but it also excited you. you knew you were fucked up but not this fucked up. something ignited within you. made you want him to overpower you, to destroy you. to overstimulate you. you wanted all of him. 

you retrieved the paddle like a dog and handed it to deku. 

“stand up,” he grabbed you by the throat and made you stand straight. even wearing heels you would never be as tall as deku. he was buff and thick, overpowering you to the point of death. he twirled you around, ass facing his cock. you wiggled your hips, trying to take in his cock but then you felt a smack on your ass from the paddle. 

“did i say you could do that?” deku was fuming. he still had a hold on you by the throat. he needed to show you who was in command. 

“no sir. i’m sorry.”

“that’s right. i think you need to be punished.” deku bent you over, ass directly in his vision, all opened up for him and spanked you hard. 

you were bent over being spanked! it couldn’t get worse than this. you cried with each slap and jolted forward. you put your hands out to keep you steady. 

“you are a bad little slut,” his words dripped like venom. your ass was becoming more sensitive and raw. you knew you were going to have bruises if you were alive tomorrow. “look at you. i can see your pussy pulsing from here. trying to take in my cock. you like this?” deku inserted three thick fingers forcefully. you gasped at the intrusion. it was too much. 

“d-deku i can’t-”

“if you can’t take this then how the fuck you’re gonna be able to take my cock? look at that, trying to suck up my fingers too, disgusting!” deku slapped you once more with the paddle. slapping both ass cheeks. he then carried some of your goop and smeared it all over your ass and puckered ass hole. 

“look at this hole. it’s so small and tight. look at how much it quivers. i’m not gonna lie. your pussy and ass hole do look delicous and you smell so fuckin good. it makes me want to taste.”

“mmmm,” you moaned, drool dripping from your lips as tears collected by your eyes. “please sir. please deku. i need your tongue.”

“you do, huh?” deku smiled wide. he spat on your asshole and smeared his saliva on the hole. “this should be enough.” he then shoved his thumb inside your puckered hole. 

your mouth created an o as he entered. about to come undone and orgasm right there. 

“you better not cum. you’re supposed to do that around my cock. now behave like a good girl and take it. let’s see if you can do my middle finger and pointer.”

that’s what he just did. he shoved his two fingers, slowly, igniting every nerve within you. 

“oh my godddddd,” you cried. it was hurting a bit because he was stretching out your ass hole. 

“i hope this little hole bleeds.” he laughed wickedly. “god, look at how you take me. your ass hole is starting to like it. you are truly a whore.”

“mmmmm,” you nodded as you started thrusting on his fingers. moving back and forth, taking his fingers in your ass hole. it felt so good now. your pussy was definitely dripping from the overstimulation. and the warehouse was echoing with your filth. it was moist and sticky, sounding like gurgling. 

“yess, fuck right there,” you moaned as deku smacked your ass. he put more pressure and went in deeper in your ass hole. his fingers were flashing in and out of you, at a quick pace. he even started to curl his fingers inside you. you felt him. felt him touch and caress each and every piece of you. 

then before you climaxed, deku put handcuffs on you again. 

“wh-what?”

he didn’t answer. all he did was drag you to the chair and put your stomach first against the back of the chair. you were sitting opposite. 

“deku?”

“sit all pretty like that for me. i have a surprise.”

daku again went to his duffel bag and that's when he showed he had your cell phone. 

“deku what are you doing?” you were frightened. stuck to the chair by handcuffs. unable to do anything. 

“i want to make sure epeople know that you fucked the worst villain in the world. that you were willing to put the worst man alive cock inside you. people need to see you for who you really are.” he set up your phone and tapped some buttons on the homescreen. 

he fixed his hair and pressed another button. “hello world. this is deku, yes, the scary man,” he laughed. “i’ve done some things in my life that have caught your attention.”

your eyes widened and you wanted to cry. he was taking a live of himself and you saw all your friends were watching. surely it would end soon right? this was unable to be on the internet. 

“now i know what you are all wondering. how can this be shown on this live? well, i hacked into the system so they can’t end this. but i have a certain guest with me.”

deku grabbed the phone and showed you. 

“say hi y/n.”

“stop deku! deku i beg of you!”

all of your friends were watching. you were mortified. you tried to grab your phone but you were stuck. tears fell down your cheek. 

“look at this ass.” deku slapped it with his palm. “all for me. and the best part, y/n wanted it. i mean look at this pussy.” deku did a close up of your cunt dripping. “you don’t know this but i just fingered her asshole that’s why it looks so red and swollen. all dripping for me. she really is a bad girl.” deku made his way to your face and put the camera to you. your mascara was streaking down and you had droll down your chin. “say hi baby!”

you looked away, face heating up. 

deku grabbed you by your hair and shoved his tongue down your throat, groaning as his spit mixed with yours, even some spilling out the side of your mouth. he separated and caressed your cheek, then he spat on your face and cackled. “enough bullshit talking lets get on with the show! enjoy everyone,” he winked to the camera. 

he carried your phone and took footage of everything he was doing. he took his spandex off and let you see his cock straight up for attention. some precum dripping down his sides. 

“let’s see you take this cock,” he pushed your chair forward as if you were to fall and then let you fall down on his cock. 

“ohhhhh,” you whined. your pussy was sensitive and even though you were embarrassed he was recording live everything. you didn’t care, you wanted no needed his dick inside you. “yes, right there, sir.”

“see! the bitch loves this!” he cackled. he pulled out and shoved back inside with force. each thrust full of energy. each time dragging itself in and out. it felt like it was about to touch your insides. you felt a bulge on your tummy. 

“yes sir, yes,” your tongue rolled out as he then started going faster. his balls smacking your sensitive cunt, sounding gushy and squelching. deku groaned with each thrust, having superhuman strength that he could probably last all day. 

that made you nervous too. you felt so full and stuffed from his cock. it felt almost impossible like he was ripping you. 

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you cried, not being able to hold onto nothing. 

deku grabbed onto your shoulders and pounded into you. the sound of skin slapping made you go insane. you tightened around his cock and urged him to cum. 

“now slut!” he allowed you to cum. 

“shiitttt,” you cried, squeezing him within you. “ughhhh, ohhhh. right there!” your legs shook like crazy. you were unable to keep still. 

deku rode out his orgasm, slapping your ass repeatedly, loving to see the paddle marks knowing he did that. “fuck me. look at this.” he showed his cock and showed how all your juices glistened on it. then he did a close up to your pussy, showing his cream inside you, dripping and having squirted and smudged everywhere. “not such a good girl after all.” he turned off the live. “that’s probably gonna be breaking news tomorrow. are you excited to be famous?”

you didn’t care to listen to him, all you were doing was catching your breath. “so, are you going to kill me now?”

deku thought about it, pondering. “hmm, nah! i see more of use you staying alive. and i like you. so you’re sticking with me, got it. forget about your past life or working as a barista, i choose you. you’re gonna be bonnie and i’ll be clyde. you ready for the villain life?” deku smirked. 

[looby1302]

Part III of guilty conscience…

Hope you all enjoy.

THIS IS COLES P.O.V

I have written one for Jackie also.

When Cole decided that he was going to leave Colorado and head to New York in hopes of winning the girl he loves over, he didn’t plan in advance. Alex was leaving for camp the next day. He needed an alibi, so that his mom wouldn’t try and stop him.

Cole came up with a plan to tell his parents that he was going camping for a couple of nights with his old football friends to relive some happy football memories now that he was in a good place emotionally, after finally convincing them. He went to school to see Mr C.

Cole made up an excuse as to why he wouldn’t be in school for a few days he said that his grandmother was extremely ill and he wanted to go and visit her but if he could take some of the work with him to complete while he was gone. Mr C sympathetically agreed. Cole knew that once he headed for New York and he finally saw Jackie that she would make it her mission to make him return to complete summer school.

After sorting out everything other than transportation, he used his saved up money from working at Tony’s and bought a plane ticket from Colorado to New York. He was just waiting for the morning to come around.

As the morning quickly rolled around. He opened his bedroom door to find Alex stood there. Tension and awkwardness was in the air. “Hey, you almost ready for camp?”. Cole said in a hushed voice. “Like you care Cole, you’ve ruined my life once again, have you finished? Or is my girlfriend gonna suddenly come back and tell me she’s pregnant with your kid?!” He said sharply and sarcastically. “Alex, come on!” Cole shouts but he’s cut off mid sentence. “You drove her away, I haven’t even spoken to her!, I hope your happy with yourself”. Alex then walks Down the stairs on his way out the house.

So many emotions go through Cole’s head. Guilt, anger, confusion and love. He packs his bag. Says goodbye to his parents and the rest of the family. Gets in his truck and heads to the airport. Once the plane had landed at JFK he grabs his luggage picks out his phone and calls Danny. “Hey Bro, how’s New York?”. He says with a smile on his face. “It’s good, it’s all new to me but I think you would like it too!”. He says happily. Cole sighs “actually I’m in New York, I’ve just got off the plane, Don’t tell Jackie please! I want to surprise her, but I don’t know where I’m going or even where to find her?”.

Danny is left torn, on one hand he knows that deep down Jackie has always had this connection with Cole. The other part of him knows that Alex wouldn’t be happy with him.

He huffs and then answers “she’s at her internship downtown, I’ll text you the address, she should be on her lunch break shortly”. Cole smiles and has this feeling of hope bubbling inside. “Thanks bro, I’ll see you soon”.

As the ping came through of the address. Cole mapped it on his phone. 23 minute walk from the airport. He started walking after almost getting there his injured leg started hurting. He pushed through the pain. Then he saw her through the window, all the pain subsided. She had her hair down straightened, make up on point, stunning green professional dress. My god he wanted her.

She looks up from the table where she’s sat and see’s this blonde haired farmer looking man through the window. At first she thinks she’s going crazy then he enters and she knows she’s not. He walks toward her slowly, keeping eye contact at all times. “Hey New York”. He says with that stupid grin on his face, the one that is so addictive to her.

She stands up looks around making sure there is no one in site. Walks toward him grabs his face and brings it to hers. As the kiss grows deeper the strap of his bag falls from his shoulder and hits the floor with a thud. They both stop startled and eyes fixed on each other. He smiles “Jackie, you are going to be the death of me, you know that?”.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU ENJOY THIS! This is just the start ready for the smut and angst to come! Once again I am not much of a writer but please let me know if you would like more parts! I’ve just finished the Jackie POV :) love to you all! Xx

[beechicory]

Seb, a few days before his final race, did a fascinating interview discussing many, many things, including:

his decision to retire being for him

the World Cup in Qatar (and when, or if, sports should go there)

sportswashing and flowery words, and

the need for F1 to put its money where its flowery words are in terms of improving human rights

that human rights, and projects to improve human rights, require funding $$$ and actions, not words and photo-ops

that F1 must be be a) transparent, and b) accountable about the money it gets and where that money goes

It's a really good discussion, and he's really thoughtful - I think that even if one were to disagree with his conclusions, you'd leave recognising his logic and sincerity (and moral conviction).

The interview, with Philipp Schneider of Süddeutsche Zeitung, was difficult to get access to (here's a link to it on archive.ph) so I'm posting the google-translated text behind the Read More. (As always when something is google-translated, we're probably missing some nuance, etc)

I really recommend reading it!

Tw for discussion of homophobia, etc.

-----------------

Conversation with Sebastian Vettel

"I want to experience happiness without having to drive for it"

Nov 18, 2022 at 6:51 p.m

Before his last race, Sebastian Vettel talks about the reasons for the end of his career, the driver's dependence on the car and material - and makes demands on Fifa and Formula 1.

SZ: Mr. Vettel, a face-to-face meeting was originally planned. Now we can at least connect by phone. That saves CO2 emissions and should be in your interest, right?

Sebastian Vettel: Absolutely. That's how it works wonderfully.

Your Formula 1 career ends on Sunday with a final race in Abu Dhabi . And a lot of people get excited because they want to know what you're going to do in the future. Does that surprise you?

Luckily, my decision doesn't affect the people, it affects me. And it's not like I got up in the morning and thought: like that! Now is the time to stop. I've been thinking about this for a long time. And even if I can't say exactly what comes after that - I'm looking forward to what comes after that!

Good to hear.

At some point, every athlete reaches the point where their career can no longer continue, for whatever reason, whether self-chosen or not. I'm not super special in that regard. The big task for me will be to find something that gives me the same level of satisfaction as I did in the years in Formula 1. One thing is certain: the big adrenaline rush and the feeling of sitting in the car will no longer exist. But that was clear to me.

We have a theory as to where the keen interest in your post-career life comes from.

How does it look?

We don't know of any professional athlete who has ever pushed his career with so much momentum during his active time. Lately one had the feeling that you are more often in the beehive than in the car and more of a political ambassador than a racing driver!

yes, good Maybe that's because there's not much to celebrate for me on the track at the moment. The sporting success in recent years has not been so outstanding that one could have said or written much about it.

You are not only leaving Formula 1 as a four-time world champion, but also as an important eyewitness. What do you think has changed the most in the past 15 years?

I think the sport, the genetics or what defines the sport is probably unchanged since Formula 1 came along. Yes, cars are changing, and so are people. But the core of Formula 1 has remained the same. I still love this sport, since I was little I've done nothing else, dreamed of nothing else, nothing else has ever really driven me. So what's different? The dimensions of the sport have grown enormously in recent years. So internationally, in Germany Formula 1 has shrunk.

Is that how you perceive it?

Formula 1 was far bigger in Germany when I started. And of course it was greatest when the boom years around Michael (Schumacher, editor's note) were around, in the mid-nineties, early 2000. Then there was another strong wave at my most successful time. But after that, interest in Germany decreased significantly.

Why is that?

On the one hand, because not all races are broadcast on free TV. But there is another important point: I am afraid that Germany is only a pioneer in terms of its view of Formula 1. There are simply more and more important issues that are coming to the fore. And that's why the question of the relevance of Formula 1 arises for many people.

But are you still a fan?

Naturally! I'm totally euphoric about our sport! That's exactly why I see how important it is to look at him critically. The way we deal with resources is not a role model, we should be much more economical. If that is not the case soon, the question will quickly arise around the world as to whether Formula 1 is still viable. And then interest should decrease everywhere, as has already happened in Germany.

Exciting theory. The general perception is rather: Formula 1 is going through the roof everywhere, just not in Germany and Brazil, because people there don't want to spend money on pay TV.

The problem is deeper. We as a society do not want to underestimate the emergency we are in. In the decades to come, we will increasingly have to ask ourselves the question: What is still possible, what can we still afford? And every sport then has to justify itself for the way in which it is played.

So not just Formula 1?

Not at all. Us first, of course, because in our sport we drive around, burn resources and still need fossil fuels. But a football World Cup, the Olympic Games, the Bundesliga too: every major event has to reinvent itself and see how it can leave a smaller footprint.

From ecological to sporting criticism: The season began with a technology amendment that was announced with great pomp and aimed at pushing the field closer together. Why has the season turned out to be the most one-sided in years?

After big rule changes there is often a gap between a top team and the rest. The goal was to make overtaking and the show better and to make it easier for us to overtake. It's gotten a little better, but the big revolution that was announced with the new rules didn't materialize. It would have been better for the sport this season to have left the rules as they were. However, a process has been started that has the potential to bring the field closer together in the coming years. Also thanks to the budget cap, not only the teams with a lot or a lot of money will win in the long term, but also the smaller teams. However, this will only happen in a horizon of five years.

It was far more exciting in 2010: you only snagged your first title in the last race. Has Abu Dhabi been a happy place for you since then?

(laughs) Well, the racetrack and what happened on the racetrack, yes! I have many fond memories of winning the 2010 World Cup. It doesn't feel like yesterday. And a lot has happened since then.

Red Bull boss Dietrich Mateschitz then said that the way to the world championship title in the next few years would only be through you. And adds: Provided he's in the right car. The sentence was prophetic: it included all the titles that followed, but also your sometimes dreary years in worse cars. A driver drives the competition to the ground in the Red Bull and fails to win a title after switching to Ferrari and Aston Martin . Do you understand critics who say: what kind of sport is that?

The dependency of a driver on the team and material is actually enormous. But even in the Bundesliga you don't really have a chance of winning the championship if you're not FC Bayern.

The difference, however, is that while a player can shine on a bad football team, it's much harder on a Haas or Aston Martin.

Formula 1 has always been like this. In the fifties, in the seventies, and it's still like that today. From this point of view, however, the past few years have been very instructive for me. In the beginning, my aspirations in Formula 1 were very much focused on success. And then success came, very quickly and very powerfully. I rode the wave for as long as the wave was available.

A wave called Red Bull , on which you won four world titles...

Well, and then in the last few years the water has been under my board (laughs) ... or the wind has been taken out of my sails. But that doesn't mean my efforts are any smaller. I learned that there is a midfield and a backfield that I didn't bother with that much before because it was too far away. In any case, something interesting also happens there: the efforts are just as great, but the reward is completely absent.

Completely?

I would say yes. And that is of course a very, very hard bread for the motivation of the teams and also the drivers. They bob around in the back for years, go unnoticed and hope that they will take the small chance to shine when they present themselves. They are not only dependent on their motivation, their skills and talent - but also on the surrounding environment. It takes a bit of luck to be in the right place at the right time. The past few years have shaped me in this respect and taught me a lot, including about myself. In that respect, I don't want to do without them, even if I could have given them all away from a sporting point of view.

When we spoke in 2018, you said: your dream isn't finished yet, you still wanted to be world champion in a red car like your role model Michael Schumacher. Do you now console yourself with the belief that you had no chance of winning the Ferrari title?

We did not make it. So I could say: We didn't stand a chance. Or I could torture myself and ask: what was missing from the car? What slowed us down in development? What was perhaps structurally not ideal? You could have recognized some things and saved yourself some mistakes. But it wasn't like that. We tried everything as a team and gave everything. Even in hindsight, it doesn't feel like I left anything behind or that I was completely off track. Yes, I think unfortunately we didn't have a real chance to fight to the end.

Because Mercedes was too powerful?

You have to be fair enough to accept that the Mercedes- Lewis Hamilton package was the best. They had a better pace of development and therefore drove better than us. Which of course is a shame. I think I can live with that now as well as with the question of whether this is the right time for me to say goodbye. Or whether it might have needed another sense of achievement.

The question then arises as to what a sense of achievement in the Aston Martin could even look like.

What is the right time? Do you need a title to finish? A won race? A fastest lap? Any climax? Those are all questions I asked myself. It's not my fault if people expect something just because it would have been a nicer story. Or when they nag because they think my career is not smooth because I drive around the back and quit anyway. I'm the only one who has to live or deal with my situation. And after all these years I know exactly what I can do. I know what it takes to win races. And I know I don't have any of that right now. I'm still so confident in myself that I say: If I'm in the right package and have the right attitude, then I can get back up there at the front. Still.

When Nico Rosberg retired after his only title, not everyone was pleased either: critics said he fled because he felt he would never defeat Lewis Hamilton again.

Even. The length of time after your career is so infinitely long. Definitely wanting to win another title is not a recipe for success for the 40 or 50 years that follow. And I was lucky enough to be able to celebrate so many titles that I don't even know which one was the best. Just because you stopped with a title doesn't mean your career after your career will be 100 percent great.

After all, Nico Rosberg made it into the TV show The Lion's Den. But because you so often talk about your career after your career and recently said in Der Spiegel that you wanted to do it like Stefan Raab: just finish and then go underground. Anyone who has followed your activities beyond the race track will understand: you want to do things differently than Stefan Raab. They create a new stage for themselves so as not to disappear afterwards.

(laughs) Time will tell. I just said that I admire it when someone manages to transform their life in such a way that they say: I don't need any of this anymore! Maybe you can now simply bring your experience, your strengths and also your knowledge, which you have brought to bear in front of the camera over the years, behind the camera. So maybe you still work in the same profession, but you don't need the limelight as much anymore.

Fortunately, more people work behind the camera than in front of the camera in Formula 1 anyway.

Honestly, I wish I could find something I'm happy with. I want to experience good luck without having to drive (laughs) .

But to your legacy as a critic of Formula 1: Formula 1 is expanding into more and more countries where human rights are not respected. Football fans are protesting in the stadiums against the World Cup, which begins in Qatar on Sunday . Are motorsport fans less political?

Good question. In controversial countries like Qatar, football was kicked off ten years ago. There may not have been a World Cup yet, but that's where clubs held their winter camps.

FC Bayern has been going to Qatar regularly for years.

For example. We as Formula 1 have been organizing races in these countries for a long time. I think our world should keep evolving. That's why certain things can no longer be considered okay.

Qatar's World Cup ambassador described being gay as "mental damage" in front of the camera in a ZDF documentary.

That is not how it works! This is outrageous!

The mantra of the Qatari whitewashers that society is becoming more liberal, you just have to keep going there, organize big events and wait a few years - isn't that obviously a misconception?

Might be. But Formula 1 is booming internationally and is opening up to a younger audience thanks to the Netflix series "Drive to Survive". And when these young people come to the races, they may hear from other spectators that unbearable tone that many women, for example, suffer from. Then the young people can raise their voices and say: Hey, that's not possible! And this is how debates may arise that will help society as a whole. What is definitely no longer possible: that someone in a country where there are human rights violations talks their way out; For example with the argument: "That's just the way it is with us. Get over it!"

Isn't it naïve to believe that such a change is taking place?

That's why I specifically demand that sport should give itself a compass, set up a moral code and then stick to it. There it is then precisely determined what the basic political requirements must be in order for sport to be allowed to take place in a country. Certain things and certain countries are simply no longer there. Too much is too much. And then we say no as Formula 1 or FIFA . And don't just nod politely and take the money or help us with any other perks the country might offer.

For example, it could say: Don't drive in countries where critical journalists are cut up with bone saws. Formula 1 has signed a ten-year contract with Saudi Arabia.

Again: homophobic comments like that of the World Cup ambassador are absolutely unacceptable. And it puts the athletes in an extremely difficult situation: us drivers in Formula One, but also the players who will take part in the World Cup. You all have to ask yourself a very difficult question: Can I or am I even allowed to practice my sport in this place?

Your Answer?

You can't expect the players to get together and decide: We're skipping this moment, this unique feature in our lives, playing a World Cup, for political reasons. On the other hand, that would be an extremely good sign. It's difficult for the players, but easier for the spectators. You just couldn't look. I myself really enjoy watching football and I love European and World Cups. But sometimes I think: If I don't watch now, don't I also punish all the players who do their best for themselves and their team and are passionate about their sport? But when I think about it that way...

Then?

If statements like those of the World Cup ambassador are made, then we simply shouldn't go to Qatar! The saying was more than backward-looking. The sport, the whole association should say: This is not the right place to do sport there.

Especially since the ambassador still gets money to show as friendly a face as possible to the outside world. He proves that nothing gets better just because sport is organized.

There's a chance. Even our Western societies have not eaten wisdom with spoons and can now say: Dear country XY, do everything as we do and everything will be fine! We also have things that should be significantly better. But if you want to accelerate change in Qatar or Saudi Arabia, then as a sport we need transparency: we have to publish the unembellished numbers of how much money we collect from the countries. And we have to clearly communicate how much of it flows back into projects that then really drive change there on the ground.

A very large and a very small number.

Allegedly. But as long as these issues remain in the background and are veiled, as long as no one knows how much money is being spent and what is being done with it, we will remain stationary. It also doesn't help if you meet somewhere and take a picture of banging a spade in the ground or planting a tree.

You went karting with young women in Saudi Arabia and published photos of it.

That was only a small gesture, but social change does not come for free. Many important projects cost money. And if a country has plenty of money to attract big sport, then some of it, even a large part, should be used to improve people's lives.

Some problems in Qatar cannot be solved by projects. Homosexuality is forbidden, the ambassador only said what is the law. So shouldn't the code you're asking for it say: don't drive in countries where same-sex lovers are jailed?

Just as. Fifa, Formula 1 and other sports associations should also consistently demand the implementation of the demands that they formulate in flowery words. And then say: You can bid as much money as you want, but we won't come. At the moment it is unfortunately still the case that as an organizer you can get away with it if you take a few nice photos. The fundamental problem is another.

That would?

There is still no authority that can demand consequences if an association does not meet the requirements it sets for itself. Formula 1 has set itself the goal of being climate neutral by 2030. Nice and good. But why can't it be checked by an independent and critical body along the way? To then live with the consequences and possible penalties, whatever they may look like? What happens if Formula 1 takes a wrong turn on the way to climate neutrality and doesn't meet its own demands? Or FIFA on the way to more equality and diversity? Unfortunately, at the moment it's like this: Formula 1 controls Formula 1, and Fifa controls Fifa.

But who should control the big associations?

There are independent instances that deal with all kinds of tests that could be won. But it would help if you didn't just set an abstract goal, but divided the way there into transparent intermediate stages. And then there's the general public, the fans in the stands, journalists reporting on it. And wouldn't that be a very, very broad, international and good control body? So I don't see why a lot of problems can't be solved with transparency.

It's a pity that you drive your last race. Actually, because of your sense of mission, you should be forced to continue to circle until retirement age.

Oh, I do not know ...

With all his love for Fernando Alonso, it is unlikely that he would be interested in anyone other than Fernando Alonso in his old racing days. And there is no one to be seen growing up as a political driver.

Every driver has his or her own issues... Maybe some drivers are still too young. But the climate issue will also come to the fore with them. Even if they don't want to.

After leaving Haas a year ago, Mick Schumacher is without a cockpit in Formula 1. Various driver's seats have become vacant in the past few weeks, but no team boss has thought of Schumacher. How do you explain that his services are not in greater demand?

It would be a shame for the sport if it lost Mick. We talked about the fact that in some cars you can't shine as a driver. And sometimes a driver and his car don't go together at all. Mick has had a difficult year, but has set his highlights and accents. As high as you sometimes fly in Formula 1, you can quickly fall again. Basically, you are never as good as people say you are. But you're never as bad as people say you are. Of course, I wish that Mick stays in Formula 1, because that would be very, very important for Germany's motorsport scene .

Nevertheless: You won your first race in the defeated Toro Rosso. Michael Schumacher amazed the world in a Jordan. How do you recognize a talent? And how do you recognize when a talent isn't that great after all?

It's a difficult subject for me: I know Mick better than most drivers and have known for a very long time. He has a lot of potential. Although he may not be the type to get in the car and run into everyone like some people are. Mick is someone who can always improve. This is his gift. But will it then come to the point where he regularly wins and competes for the title? I don't know that. Mick is still too young for such an assessment. I can only hope he gets the time to find out.

[lollystocks]

To Blossom

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 2: Botanomancy (and a lil dash o technomancy)

Sam tends to her houseplants, her mother tries to connect, and Amity feels the effects of its rip in space-time. Words: 5,087 CW: minor injury, blood, self-injury, possession (mentioned), dissociation, mentions of a firearm

---

Her plants were getting grumpy. Again.

Not that Sam held it against them. As much as she had tried to make her dark, brood-perfect bedroom a comfortable home for the waifs and strays she had picked up from Amity Park’s nurseries and garden centers, (and perhaps a private garden or two), she only had so many hours in the day. The best temperature and humidity control money could buy helped of course, but between school, ghost fights, activism, and deliberately spending as little time as possible in her parents’ house…

Well. The grumpiness was understandable.

But Sam had found a rare, spare, afternoon with no obligations. Her homework was mostly up-to-date (she was refusing to do any of Lancer’s reading until the English department unbanned The Bluest Eye); the protest at Axiom was on pause until Tucker had okay’d her security plans; it was a Sunday so there were no new updates for The Grand Speadsheet; and she had already published two blog updates this week with the next one fully drafted. (“The True Amity Park Horror: A Miniature Surveillance State; or, The Bitches in Cheap Bleach Could Do With Being More Subtle When Spying On The Entire Town, part v”)

The irony of calling out the GIW’s spying operation was not lost on her.

And seeing as ghost attacks didn’t stick to a pre-circulated schedule, there was nothing to do on that front except keep the pager on loud, and get on with one’s day.

So, following an oh-so-wonderful lie-in, Sam was playing her favorite kind of politics: horticulture.

Following certain complaints, Sam had abandoned the concept of a general fertilizer and had bought a whole series - one each for tropicals, leafy, flowering, fruit, and cacti. The succulents would have to just put up with the latter. Windows thrown open, a torn up magazine protecting her dark hardwood flooring, a series of expensive and totally unused mason jars usurped from her mother’s kitchen, and a large jerry can of water sat at the ready, she set to work mixing up some please-just-fucking-grow juice for her many, many children.

Or she would have, had her pager not chosen that moment to scream at her from her window sill. A grating, 8-bit version of Ghostbusters (“the most frighteningly accurate depiction of ghosts in any move ever Sam, it’s iconic.”) that served as their “Fentonworks scanners have picked up a big ol’ signal somewhere, perhaps check it out gang” signal. Louder than the beeping was the profound sense of alarm from her plants. Or so she imagined.

Sam leaped up to silence it before it reminded her parents of her existence, knocking the jerry can over as she went. She ignored the chugging spill, slamming the “dismiss” button on the pager and then scrambling to find her phone among her copious bedsheets. By the time she extracted it, there was already a message:

Fanny Dampton: already on it, boxy’s throwing a tantrum at walmart

That would at least save them some time. Accessing the Fentonworks scan system to pinpoint a location always lost them a few minutes.

Sam typed with one hand, and started donning her boots with the other.

Man Sampson: Woodsborough Park or Elm Rd?

Fanny Dampton: elm

Fucker Toe-ly: moms got the car gonna take me a while to get there on dads bike

Man Sampson: I can swing round to get you, meet me at the end of your road, do NOT forget the extra thermos this time.

Fanny Dampton: i think i got it guys!

Fucker Toe-ly: bestie how are you typing and fighting

Fucker Toe-ly: i didnt forget it how dare

Fucker Toe-ly: i was giving it a premeditated and intentional vacation in my sock drawer

Fucker Toe-ly: she was tired

Fanny Dampton: i think i got it guys

Man Sampson: No that’s a good question, how are you typing and fighting?

Fanny Dampton: im not

Man Sampson: So when you say “you got it”??

Fanny Dampton: i ran off to GG and by the time i got back jazz had thermosed boxy. i ‘stole’ it from her so mom and dad couldn’t take boxy for testing. hid it in my leg, will get it out later.

Fucker Toe-ly: bestie im still not on bord with you using random body parts as storage it cant be good for a growing boy its also nasty as hell and also what about ectocontamination from the thermos

Man Sampson: I’m not sure Danny needs to worry about ectocontamination, Tuck.

Man Sampson: It’s also so on brand for you to be able to perfectly spell .“ectocontamination” but not “board”.

Fucker Toe-ly: what are we if not our brands? - francis bacon, probably

Fanny Dampton: look it’s all good guys, just need to focus on the hard part now - the family walmart shop

Fucker Toe-ly: god gives his hardest battles to his deadest soldiers

Fucker Toe-ly: what yall buying

Fanny Dampton: mom wants a gun

Man Sampson: Jesus Christ.

Fucker Toe-ly: aaaaaaaahahahahahahahah

Sam flopped back onto her bed, giving herself a minute - the come-down from “ghost attack mode” would take a sec, even though the problem had solved itself in rather nicely.

Sam nearly cried out when the handle of her bedroom door rattled.

A muffled voice forced its way through. “Sweetie? What have we said about locking your door?”

Sam sat up, slowly. Took a breath, and made her way over. “I said I’d stop re-installing the lock when you learn how knocking works.”

“Samantha Manson you wi-”

Her mother’s impending monologue on respect, rules and roofs was interrupted with a wide open door and a dead expression. “Yes, Mrs Manson?”

Her mom blinked, swallowing her previous tirade. It looked like it tasted sour. “Sweetie, I know it’s a joke, but your dad and I have asked you multiple times to drop the “Mrs and Mr Manson” thing. It’s-”

“A pointed nod to the irony of your formal standards of familial respect, yeah.”

“Samantha, can we please not do this?”

How rich. “Mom, it might help if you tried to actually-”

“-’understand why you do this rather than seek to use the blunt instrument of parental authority to control you’, or something, right?”

Sam blinked. Her mom could barely hide her smirk.

“We do listen.”

Sam kept her face blank and said nothing. Pointing out the obvious would do nothing but lead to yet another argument in a doorway, ripe for door-slamming and possibly injured fingers. These things always happened in doorways.

Breathe, Sam. Your silence will say enough. 

Her mom broke eye contact first, glancing into the room, eyes widening the slightest bit at the soaked magazine pages on the floor.

“Oh Samantha, you really need to take more care in here. The floorboards…”

“It’s just water, Mom, and the paper got most of it.” Her heart rate was ramping up again. Her hands were flailing. “It’s fine, and you know what, why would you assume I wasn’t being careful? Like why is carelessness and thoughtlessness your first thought? I’ve clearly set up precautions against filtered water you can literally see that, but you couldn’t consider that maybe it was you trying to barge in here that could have startled-”

“-I assume a lack of care because I know you Sam, I’m your mother, and as much as I love you even you must admit you’re prone to impulse, undue planning, you take your possessions for granted as you know your dad and I will simply replace them for you at the dro-”

“-What did you want, Mom?”

This time it was her mother who prolonged the silence, maintaining eye contact, breath firmly controlled. Sam made a note of it, but would sooner die than admit who she had learnt her most effective habits from.

“What I wanted, Samantha, was to invite you down to the garden to do some gardening. Together.”

Sam rolled her eyes.

“Why is that such a shock to you, Sam? I’m elated you’ve taken to botany so well. God knows I tried to get you into it as a girl, not that flowers or weeding held any sway over you. But now you’re entering a new phase of your womanhood, you’re developing a sense of aesthetic taste, domestic pride, a new sense of responsibility, shedding your teenage fascination with the gloomy and macabre-”

“Literally what gives you that impression? I’ve got 3 animal skulls right there on my shelf Mom-”

“-Well you’re not wearing that awful makeup-”

“-Because it’s a Sunday and I only woke up an hour ago! Don’t tell me we’re two minutes into our first interpersonal interaction of the weekend and ‘cause I’ve not put my eyeliner on yet you think I’m, what, I’m ‘shedding the goth’-”

“-You are developing more refined tastes Samantha and I don’t see why you would deny that!”

It was taking all her willpower not to scream. She felt that if she turned around now, every plant in the jungle of her room would be giving her a menacing thumbs up. Tear her a new one! 

“Oh my god Mom it’s just a bit witchier! Subcultures have fashion cycles too! Like yeah I’ve put my old band posters into storage and bought an oil painting at that auction we-”

Sam stopped. Breathed. Why did every conversion with her mom get so derailed?

Well because her mom found ways to sneak insults into every conversation, that’s why. Because she could do that. When Sam tried, it got her grounded.

It also tended to derail their conversations even further.

There were two ways to deal with Mom when she was like this. Way one, give her what she wants - a fight. Rise to the bait, throw some back, speak her truth, let the conversation switch between radically different topics at a whim.

Way two was de-escalation, and was far harder. It required a metric fucktonne of self-control, but mostly, just three ingredients.

Ingredient one: Stay On Track.

“Thanks for the offer Mom, but I’ll stick to my bedroom plants, thanks.”

“And while they’re looking lovely - besides that weeping fig of course - we are fortunate enough to have plenty of garden space, where plants can actually thrive. Are you unappreciative of that privilege?”

Ingredient Two: Don’t acknowledge insults that have nothing to do with the topic.

“I just want to focus on my bedroom, Mom. I don’t like the garden that much, you know that.” Not totally the truth - the greenhouse was pretty great. Mostly because it was firmly her territory. The perfect lawn and perfect flower beds were her mother’s.

Mom sighed, and set her shoulders. She was gearing up to say something. Something hurtful, no doubt. Sam braced, and prepared for Ingredient Three - when it gets really bad, disengage entirely. Shut the door. It wasn’t running.

Her mom said, “Well, we can do something about that. What would you change about the garden?”

Sam blinked.

And stalled.

“Samantha?” A nervous laugh. “Anyone in there?”

Sam frowned. “Um. Sorry?”

“You don’t like the garden. That’s a little hurtful as I put so much effort into it, and I think it’s rather beautiful, but I want you to like it too. So. What should we change?”

This was entirely new. Sam had no plan for this, whatever it was.

“Is it that it’s too “neat”? You’re “rewilding” attempts in the greenhouse are far from what I can deal with in the garden, and your father only convinced me to allow it was the greenhouse is mostly out of sight, but perhaps we-”

“Are you being serious?”, asked Sam. It wasn’t said with spite, or even incredulity. Just suspicion. Maybe even hope.

Her mom carefully folded her hands in front of her. She’d understood perfectly. “Dead serious, Sam. I- I want us to share something. We’ve never had something we could do together, except maybe swimming when you were little (but then you wanted to stop), and now that you have this wonderful new hobby, and it’s something I like too! So even if it means ceding some ground, if it means being able to spend some time with you that we both enjoy, even if it’s not really my company your enjoying but I get to see you enjoying yourself with me, then that woul-”

“It’s too much of a monoculture.” interrupted Sam, who had taken a small, defensive step back into her room.

“I’m sorry?”

“The lawn. It’s not just “too neat”, or “too perfect.” Like yeah I think it looks ugl- no, actually, it’s not that, it’s like it genuinely makes me uncomfortable. Those perfect lawn stripes are, they’re like this symbol of America but only in this really gross, plastic-and-fructose-syrup way, you know?”

Her Mom hesitated. She began to speak, but Sam barrelled onwards.

“And it’s not just how it looks, ‘cause like, turfgrass lawns are just such an issue. Like you have to put so much effort into keeping it up because it’s an invasive species and not meant to grow in the US so you have to keep it going with just so much fertilizer and even paint which runs off into rivers and causes eutrophication but then you also have to douse it in pesticide which kills of pollinators and you have to aggressively mow it with that massive fuel-guzzler-”

“Okay you hate my lawn, but you can’t ask me to lose the whole lawn!”

“Why not? We don’t use it for anything - you entertain on the patio, we don’t use it for games or even walking, it’s just there!”

“I won’t have our beautiful land just be mud-”

“Mom you asked for my opinion!”

Her mom blinked, and, for some reason, shut up.

“You can’t do that you can’t come to me with a sob story about bonding and ask me something point blank and get angry at my response without letting me finish the goddamn thought.”

Her mom opened her mouth, closed it, and gestured with her hand. Please, finish the goddamn thought. She folded her hands in front of her again.

Sam nodded. “Thank you. Look I can send you articles, there are alternatives, if you want to do that and if you want to take my mere suggestion seriously. Like, moss, or clover, or wildflowers. Or maybe even do something with all the space? You’ve got the planters crammed up against the patio. You could fill the space with more planters and have paths fill that space if you wanted to do something really cool. And make habitats for the pollinators. Like the botanical gardens.” 

Her mother’s eyes registered that. Their trip together for her thirteenth birthday had been her mom’s suggestion and she hadn’t given Sam much of a choice. Sam had reluctantly adored it all the same.

The small succulent from that trip had stayed on her desk ever since. Alone, until earlier that year. When it suddenly gained a whole host of siblings.

Time to disengage.

“Look Mom, I’ve got to finish this. Mopping up the water. I’ll send you those articles if you’d like, though.’

Her mom straightened, smiled with lots of teeth. “Of course, Samantha. I’ll read them.”

Sam nodded, and went to close her bedroom door. Her mom gently stopped her. “I’ll be in the garden, if you need me.”

A thin smile. “Sure thing, Mom.” She closed the door with a soft click.

Sam liked to imagine the plants were angry on her behalf. They’d seen the whole thing, and obviously they’d be on her side. 

Sam grabbed a dirty t-shirt from her laundry basket and set to mopping up the remaining water. As she worked, she counted all 38 plants her in room and noted their locations, light levels, water levels, obsessively-

God, she just couldn’t make her mom understand. That it wasn’t about looks and aesthetics and beauty, it was about the- the- the inherent sanctity of plant life, the codependent relationship between flora and fauna, the exchange of air and breath, the nutrient cycles, that her own

daughter you are mine the daughter of green the daughter of ultraviolet the queen of roots uncountable through the ground the city the planet

you are ruler you are monarch the flowers the leaves the vines these are your children these are your subjects these are your responsibility

you understand child you understand my daughter that humanity is infection is gnats is too-much-water is invasive grass it must be purged this pest

is yours to feed on to take their nutrients they are flies in the trap you will do my bidding my sweet greendaughter they will do yours you are chlorophyll you are ectoplasm shed your meat dissolve the juices of your flesh you-

…

Sam gasped and clutched her hand. She had somehow managed to find a sharp-enough pencil with which to stab her palm. She looked up, brain catching up to the fact that she had managed to drag herself to her desk, even amid the episode.

That was good. New, but good. Her body was able to act to pull her out, now. Even if she didn’t remember it.

Just another example of feeling eerily disconnected from her flesh body.

She fell into her office chair, and her head fell into her hands. She breathed. Always fucking breathing, like it’s a chore. Fucking oxygen. It never felt quite right, these days.

She needed to center herself. She knew the steps. Couldn’t remember the fucking steps. They were in the notes app on her phone. Where was her phone?

On the ground, by the jerry can and the mason jars and the magazine pages. Okay. Easy.

She sat up, walked, then half crawled to the same spot on the floor. Crossed her legs, sat upright, faced the desk, keeping the pencil in sight. Flexed her injured hand, and reached out for her phone.

She found the list quickly enough - she’d put the shortcut on her homepage.

5 See

Sam spoke aloud to the room. “I can see my phone; my desk; the window with the tree in full bloom. The raccoon skull on the windowsill. And the jerry can, it’s still got a bit of water in it.”

She shuddered a breath out. Unlocked her phone again and read the next line.

4 Touch

Sam closed her eyes and concentrated. “I feel the small stab wound from the pencil in my left hand. It fucking hurts. I feel that my right leg is a bit damp from sitting on the floor. It’s cold. I feel my boots on my feet, because I never took them off. I feel my pajamas on my skin.”

A longer breath in, and one out. She carried on, no longer needing the list.

“I hear the air conditioning, even though it’s not very hot. I hear the odd car on the road. I-”. Sam hesitated. How honest are you meant to be during these things? “I still hear the echoes of the voice. I hear words like ‘daughter’ and ‘queen’ and ‘flesh’ and ‘green’. But not with my actual ears. It’s a metaphor, kinda.”

“I can smell the lemongrass candle I’m burning. I can’t think of a second smell. Maybe my own body odor? I haven’t showered yet.”

“And I can taste my own ass-mouth, as I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Sam sighed, and opened her eyes. A bird chirped from the tree. She furrowed her brows and stared.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier buddy? I had to admit I heard his voice instead, you tardy bastard.”

The bird probably didn’t laugh. But it sure sounded like it.

Before she could forget, she opened the Grand Spreadsheet on her phone, and went to the “SAM” tab. She logged the time, with the note “short episode. Mild self injury broke it, no memory of that bit.” and hit ENTER.

Five seconds later, her phone rang - the screen flashed the caller ID “circuits mcgee 🌱 🤓✌🏾🧑🏾‍💻🍑”

He started talking the moment she accepted. “Ohmygod Sam are you okay??”

“I’m calm enough to have filled in the spreadsheet so let’s say yeah.”

“FUCK. You were doing so well, it’s been weeks, thought we’d left ‘em behind for good. What’s the injury?”

“Stabbed my palm with a pencil. Not very hard, I don’t think? There’s a bit of blood but it stopped already.” Sam opened her hand to inspect the little puncture. A small spec of gray left by the pencil and some dried blood, and it stung to hell, but she had had far worse.

“Yeah but Sam, you know as well as I do that around here, an injury healing fast doesn’t necessarily mean ‘all is well’.”

He had a point, there. “You’re right, but I’m being honest actually, it really is tiny. I can send a pic if you want confirmation I’m not just bei-”

“Don’t you fucking dare send me a picture of your wound Samantha Manson.”

Sam let out an honest-to-god giggle.

The line beeped.

“That’s Danny, wanna-?”

“Yeah add him in.” said Sam, as the texture of the background noise changed with the opening of a new line.

“Oh my god, Sam are you okay?”

“She’s good man, sounds like a small one.”

“They’ve gone down in severity and frequency, I honestly think we’re coming to a close on that.”

Danny’s voice again. “I know you don’t like talking about it over the phone, want us to swing by for a debrief?”

“Honestly there isn’t much to it that isn’t what I’ve covered before. I’m his daughter-queen again, we love plants, we’re eco-fascists, yada yada.”

“It’s not the info that’s important Sam, it’s you saying it.”

Sam nodded, before remembering they couldn’t see her. “Good point. Even so, a full debrief feels unimportant. I can just…” Sam hesitated, then completed the thought. “I can just tell my plants.”

A short, but uncomfortable silence over the phone. She had hoped that comment would land better.

Tucker spoke first. “So no change on that front?”

Sam reached out a hand above the pothos hanging near her desk, and with a slender finger, beckoned it upwards. It rolled, like it was stretching itself awake, and a leafy vine reached up to her fingers. Curling around it, not dissimilar to a cat.

mother, she imagined it crooning.

Her thumb gently stroked a leaf. “No change on that front. If anything…”

“It’s getting stronger, isn't it.” asked Tucker.

Sam didn’t want to answer that. But Tucker’s correct conclusion was unnerving. “Was that a lucky guess, or…”

“...It might be the same for me.” He said, in a small voice.

“For fuck’s sake guys, there’s a tab on The Spreadsheet for this! Why is this the first I’m hearing that you’re both getting… more?”

“Well sorry Dr Fenton-”

“Don’t call me that-”

“-but what with updating it with all the spying I’ve been doing on half of fucking Caspar High-”

“Tucker tracking your symptoms is more important than tracking Dash’s-”

“Guysguysguys, let’s all pipe down, kay?”

The conversation went quiet, again. They all took a moment, planning their words.

Sam broke the silence. “I’ll go first, if that’s okay?”

Their noises of assent came through simultaneously.

“Okay so point one: Danny, you’re probably right about Tucker and I not being totally on it with documenting our developments.” Sam twirled around in her office chair, eyes darting about her room. “I can only speak for myself, but it’s mostly just that not much has changed? Or more that it’s changing gradually? Like I have an episode, I can log that. But ‘I think I���ve got a bit more control over my houseplants this week than last week, and a tree might have tried to talk to me yesterday’ feels like an unimportant update. I dunno. What about you, Tuck?”

There was an awkward silence. Some shuffling. Neither Sam nor Danny stepped in.

It was something of a habit amongst them. Thinking space didn’t always need to be filled with noise, especially when it was obviously someone’s turn to talk.

Eventually, “Ah man. It’s less that, more like, I guess you’d call it denial? Like… okay, skipping a bunch of keystrokes when hacking the GIW and using your brain instead is something I can probably brush under the carpet until I put it into words in The Spreadsheet which is either ironic or fitting I guess.”

That was new. Tucker had been developing… some sort of connection to his networks and cybernetics. At least enough to have rare insight into how those systems functioned, and sometimes being able to intuit novel solutions, or just know when something would bug. And one time, he may have granted his phone partial sentience. But a direct input into his code? New.

“Well that, and, agh. Right okay, full cards on the table. Sometimes, I go to put something about myself in The Spreadsheet, and I get this itching feeling. One high up in my chest that’s too deep to scratch. Not sure what to make of it, but I don’t like it. So I avoid triggering it, okay. Probably just anxiety.”

Another silence. Sam froze.

Danny asked, “A kinda itch that’s like, ‘stop that right there’?”

“Well yeah.”

Sam’s heart rate spiked, all the plants on her desk standing to attention. “Wait, you get that too?”

“Not you too, Sam.” came Danny’s voice. He sounded small, defeated.

“Okay this wasn’t me covering anything up, I’d just never like, consciously thought of it like that before?”

“Okay, you both get an itch that makes you not want to do something - in your case Tucker, it’s when you’re like, compromising your own security?”

“Yeah. Or like, my privacy, or data.”

“Sam?”

“Well it doesn’t come up very often? Can’t even think of a time, just that what Tucker said rings a bell?”

The sound from Danny’s line had changed. He must have found somewhere away from the shopping crowds.

“Okay. Tuck, what kind of feeling do you get when you, I dunno, patch in a new security protocol to The Spreadsheet?”

“Well I feel satisfied, obviously.”

“Yeah but is it a different kind of satisfaction to like, doing well on a test? Is it specific to when you’re hacking something?”

Sam could hear Tucker processing that. She had to process it too.

Tucker eventually managed an eloquent “Fuck.”

“Is it like, like a slight vibration? Feels like a warm cat purring on your chest?”

“Yes, Sam, that is exactly what Obsession feels like.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Well I guess we can stop speculating that the denizens of Amity Park are slowly developing ghostly traits, if Sam and I are developing Obsessions.”

Because that was the crux of the whole matter.

For the last year, the three of them had been doggedly tracking the changes in the population of their little town. People acting just a bit stranger, a bit more compulsive. Heart rates and breath rates decreasing. No obvious reactions to blatant ectocontamination in the cafeteria food.

Voices just a bit more distorted over the radio, or tv. Heaters turned down, AC turned up. Tucker had even set up a bot to analyze the blinking rate at Caspar High and some local offices to compare with similar places elsewhere in the state. Unsurprisingly, the citizens of Amity Park didn’t feel the need to blink as much.

Shrugging off the voices in the cornfields, the apparitions in the woods, the shivers down your back when you look at a cemetery sideways. These adjustments had come quickly to the population due to their sheer frequency - The Horrors only hold sway when they surprise you. But the blatant unease the town residents gave to outsiders wasn’t just shrugged off amongst themselves - it was firmly, blatantly, ignored.

“No but you guys are special cases, you both had prolonged, individual overshadowings by powerful ghosts and your obsessions are related to them. Most of the town have either been mass-influenced, or just had quick stints as meatsuits. Like we’ve known for a while something’s happening but it feels like it’s speeding up for some people - Paulina’s never been this concerned with being pretty, or Wes with being up in everyone’s business. Then there’s the school building itself which is a whole ‘nother-”

Sam cut in. “Okay okay, we definitely need a big meeting to talk this through. Today?”

“Probably not, I’ve got mom’s actual normal gun to deal with…”

“I found a weakness in our backdoor to the Mayor’s Office’s security and it’s got me paranoid, I gotta patch it before something happens…”

“Okay, tomorrow after school? Yours, Tuck?”

“Sure thing, I’ve got the car tomorrow too. I’ll pick you up on the way in, Sam.”

Sam scribbled the reminder on a note. “It’s a date, gang. I’ll try and put together like, a report, I guess.”

Danny said, “I’ll catch up with you guys on the school steps tomorrow. Stay sa- Mom Jesus Christ that’s not how you- guys seeyousoon.” and his line went dead.

“Talk soon, Sam!”

“Talk soon, Tucker.” She hit the red phone icon.

The pothos, without encouragement, had continued to climb into and around Sam’s hand, gently holding a leaf against the pencil wound. The rest was clamped tightly around her wrist and forearm. Too tightly. 

With the feeling of being watched, Sam turned her head, glancing around the rest of her bedroom. Every plant had shifted slightly, reaching for her, leaves and stalks fighting gravity to be closer to her. 

mother, she imagined, again.

She extracted her hand, and walked briskly to the door. She strode quickly down the bright hallway, and down the grand staircase, grabbing her father’s set of keys from the hallway bowl. Reaching the front door with the full intention to shut herself in the plantless, steel, diesel and chrome deathtrap that was her father’s car and just drive, she stopped with the door handle in her hand.

A slight tickle filled her chest. An itch.

She turned to look through to the kitchen, and could see her mother in the garden beyond. Her usual hairspray-hard hair had rare flyaways, and a streak of mud marred her perfect neutral makeup. She knelt by a flowerbed, a tray of poppy seedlings on a paving stone beside her. Babies that Sam didn’t know yet. Her mother gently teased aside the soil with her trowel, placing each seedling bundle with care.

Sam’s chest warmed as she watched her mother. It hummed. She let go of the door handle, set her shoulders, and went to join her mother in the garden.

[glitch-pep]

Under the cut is a massive ramble that I NEED to get out of my system, because a lot has changed in the last two months or so-

Also the oc stuff on my blog has been looking like this and it's been bugging me to no end so I wanna explain some stuff below- 💀

#1

After 4-5 years of drawing on my phone with my finger, I spent my savings on a drawing tablet. It's been a giant wish of mine to have one for ages, but I never really worked up the courage to do it since it's a big financial decision and I always feel guilty about spending money... but, after months of intense contemplating I did it!

Buuut I did have a few mental breakdowns once it arrived... long story short, turns out that you can't connect a HP PC with the tablet using the USB-c cable that you get with the tablet, because the USB-c port of the PC doesn't support an additional screen display.

I did look up if you can connect them beforehand, and the internet told me that the answer is yes. You can't trust anything these days bro- 💀💀💀

After A LOT of back and forth and me trying to return the tablet because I can't use it without it being connected to the PC, they told me that I can't return it. Than after EVEN MORE back and forth, we found out that it would work with a completely different cable that I had to order seperately. I had just about enough money left for it, so I ordered it, and then it was peace and love on planet earth because it finally works now.

#2

Also, I needed a free drawing programm I could use, but problem was that my old app, Sketch Draw And Paint, has the most simple layout and functions it can have, so I was used to simplicity.

When I tested out GIMP, Krita, Inkspace and FireAlpaca, I could not wrap my head around how they worked and my lazy ass didn't feel like watching a bunch of tutorials... I was like bro let's find one that I can figure out on my own, it can't be that complicated. 💀

Everyone thank MediBang Paint for being simple enough for me to understand... if MediBang Paint has 0 fans I'm dead fr. From now on, all of my art will be drawn in MediBang Paint and on the tablet.

Is my art any better? Idk but I'm having fun so far, experimenting with stuff, slowly getting towards actually getting some oc stuff done...

...and, speaking of oc stuff...

#3

...I'm going to explain what I plan to work on in the future for each of my oc's, so, let's get started.

Mina - I'm not going to be making any more main character eene oc's, I only gotta design Mina's aunt and a different side character and add them to the characters in her lore and that's it. Mina's story is by far the most simple out of everyone. She'll just get 1 or 2 fics. This doesn't mean that I don't love her, trust me I've had some crazy ideas for her lore, but I've decided to keep it simple, because it makes sense given who Mina is.

Milo and CJ - For the sake of telling you my versions of Seasons 3 and 4 of mf, I have to slightly redesign each canon character from the main cast, figure out how to draw them and write some new lore for them, while using any info I found to characterize them somewhat properly.

I watched and overanalyzed the entirety of the webisodes and the alternative versions of them, as well as the Nickelodeon show, and I looked through the website and the wiki, all for the sake of writing down ANY piece of information I can get about the lore of this show and the characters, because I really needed to have something to work with.

I rearranged S1 a bit and put together a S2 with the webisodes. I'll talk about this eventually.

I won't be making any new main character oc's for this one, only background characters. I'm planning to write S3 and S4 in the form of fics.

Sunny and Molly - For this one I have to add a bunch of secondary and background characters, but we don't need those to begin the story, they'll be relevant later. I'm currently trying to piece together episodes and which goes where so that I can start writing it. I also gotta analyze the website a bit more, to get a feel of how to somewhat properly write the canon characters. I also have a seperate wh oc story idea in mind that I wanna get to eventually as well.

Charlie - I have to remake Charlie's intro, slightly redesign her, add 4 additional main characters, also secondary and background characters but those will be relevant later... Charlie shares her story with a bunch of other oc's. This one will definitely take me the longest, and it's the last thing on my waiting list, because I wanna tackle the easier ideas first. I do also have a seperate sm oc story in mind that I wanna get to as well.

Piper - I don't exactly know what I'm gonna do yet. I wanna see how tadc plays out, and then I'll work on setting some stuff in stone. I do have some ideas and concepts in mind, but I'm not sure in what direction I should go with it, depends upon how the story in the show will play out. (I probably won't wait for the whole show to be done, but at least 1-2 more eps would kinda help me understand where it's going.) I will work on some of the ideas tho.

As of now, I don't plan to make any new oc's for any other fandoms, mostly because I haven't gotten a good enough idea for anything yet, but also because I really wanna work towards polishing the oc's I already have.

I am setting stuff up so that I can start writing the fics. I have no idea how long this will take me, given that I got irl responsibilities to take care of too, but I'll try my best to get it done eventually.

And that's it. I hope you'll have a nice day! 💕

[duchi-nesten]

Grayghost for the ask game!

it's been one hundred years, but i have not forgotten to answer the 983478349 of these i have left in my inbox.

-

Valerie was so ready to finally, officially, fully kill Danny.

Don't get her wrong, she really loved her boyfriend a lot. After all the secrets were out, they really bonded and were now dating for almost 4 years.

Since their anniversary was coming up, they both decided to celebrate it by going on a roadtrip across a few neighboring states. They've been saving money for this the whole year!!!

When summer break hit (they were in college now (rip)) they wasted no time, packing Valerie's new (old) car to the roof and going off into the unknown. (unknown = usa)

Valerie insisted that she was gonna be the one to drive the whole time. She didn't really trust Danny and his certified Fenton Driving SkillsTM to not wreck her car.

Danny argued for a while, since he didn't want her to drive so much. It was cute how worried he was that she was gonna be too tired or whatever, but she made it very clear to him that she doesn't mind. He was banned from the driver's seat, no matter what.

Unfortunetly, that led to a little issue that Valerie did not think well enough through.

"WE GOT A NUMBER ONE VICTORY ROYALE, YEAH FORTNITE WE BOUT TO GET DOWN (GET DOWN), TEN KILLS ON THE BOARD RIGHT NOW, JUST WIPED OUT TOMATO TOWN."

Danny was in charge of the AUX cord.

And Danny was abusing his AUX cord rights.

Hard.

"Danny, can you PLEASE turn on some NORMAL MUSIC?" Valerie asked for what felt like the 1000th time.

"What do you mean? Chug Jug With You is such a banger." Danny asnwered with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

"I can survive stuff like All Star and the rickroll, but the shit you've been pulling up is too much." She let go of the steering wheel with one hand just to quickly gesture in the direction of Danny's phone connected to the car. "What even IS THIS?"

"A banger."

"Danny, I beg you."

"Well. You know the rules. One person drives, the other chooses the music." he said, shrugging.

"I can hardly call your playlist music."

He ignored her comment and continued, "You could always... Let me drive. The you can choose the music."

That Little Shit.

She knew he did this on purpose. She realized when he pulled out an already pre-made playlist. This was his plan all along. Maybe she wasn't so far off when she was insiting he was evil those few years ago. He sure as hell could be evil when he wanted to be.

Well, she was definitly not gonna give in. She couldn't let him win this.

"No. You're banned from driving." she said, holding the wheel just a bit tighter when a new song started playing. It sounded like a badly recorded version of Take On Me. She prayed it was only that, but her dreams were crushed when some little kid with the shittiest mic known to humankind started talking over the song.

"Well, that's fine! We get to listen to the legend himself, Mcap Steve!" Danny exclaimed and started singing with the kid about... mining? diamonds?

And calling it singing was generous, all of it was just screaming.

Of all the minecraft songs, he had to choose the one that was giving her an incredible headache.

.

She eventually gave up and let Danny drive after he pulled out this Mcap Steve's entire discography...

Possibly dying in a traffic accident was way better than another minute of that minecraft parody hell.

_____________

@hannahmanderr and I actually made Danny's roadtrip playlist, so you can listen to it and see what torture this boy put his girlfriend through yourself!

[THE PLAYLIST]

Also: Danny's right, those are bangers.

[nothing0fnothing]

Hey! So I have some lived experience in being poor and mentally ill I had to learn the hard way in my adulthood after growing up with abusive neglectful narcissistic parents. Maybe it will help someone else.

1. Instant pot. Crock pot. Rice cooker. You only need one, but all 3 are versatile, can use very little electricity to run, and are perfect to dump ingredients into and come back later to a healthy, cooked dinner.

You can research which is best for you by looking up "crock pot recipes" "rice cooker meals" to get a feel for what types of meals you can prepare in each and how it's purposes can best fit your cooking style.

2. Get your electronics secondhand. Phone companies make so much off of poor people bc they contract us into pay plans that mean that by the time our phones are needing replacing, we've paid for it 2 or more times over. Consider going Sim only and getting your phone secondhand.

Websites like backmarket and envirophone sell refurbished phones, tablets, laptops, smart watches, TVs, consoles, headphones, all sorts like new and for a fraction of the price point you'd usually get them at. I've not bought an electronic new since 2015 and the products I get refurbished last just as long as if I'd bought them new. Plus it's better for the environment. Even if I had money I don't think I'd go back to buying new honestly.

3. Static charger. If you're Autistic and can't sit still, like me you might be finding that the first thing to go on your electronics is your charge port. It's really annoying because it's not a cheap fix and I have had to replace phones early when they won't charge any more.

Last year my girlfriend and I got static chargers. It's an adapter that sits in your phone/tablets charger slot that magnetically connects to a universal charger. Its great for us because now everything rechargeable (phones/tablets, but also headphones, game controllers, keyboards/mouses) takes the same cable. It's really handy, but for me the best part is that the adapter doesn't move. So even if I'm fidgeting with my phone on charge it won't wear down the charger pins over time. We paid £20 for 3 and it's paid for itself because I've not had to take my phone for it's yearly fix since I got it.

4. Make a cozy space outside of bed. As a bedrotting girlie I know the allure of just saying "fuck it" and curling up in bed is so strong. I also know that when I do it for days at a time my sleep quality gets worse, my days blur together and my mental health gets so much worse. Especially if I'm working, watching TV, eating all my meals and doing my hobbies all from my bed.

One thing that helps me break up the bedrotting and at least helps me get some decent sleep so I might wake up feeling better tomorrow, is having a cozy spot that isn't in bed I can spend at least some of my day in.

For me, it's the couch in my living room. I've furnished it with pillows, blankets, and a little coffee table I can rest my stuff on so I can feel as comfy as I do in bed, but not actually be in bed most of the day. For You it could be a book nook, or a floor bed, or a desk with a chair in your bedroom.

5. Giant water bottle. This one is really simple. We need 8 glasses of water a day to be healthy and hydrated. Basically nobody depressed has the energy to fill up a glass of water 8 times a day. If you can get a water bottle that holds 2 litres (65oz) of water, now you only need to fill one drinking vessel once a day to be healthy and hydrated.

It's really simple and sill but it honestly saved my life. I buy those drink flavor packets because I drink more when it tastes nice. Is it as healthy as plain water? No. Is it healthier than no water? Yes. Easy peasy.

My bottle is from Meoky, its the 64oz stainless steel camping bottle with a flip straw I got for under £20. I like it because it keeps my water cold and I'd rather walk on hot coals than take a sip without a straw, but I've bought same size BPA free plastic bottles for like £3 and they have lasted me 2-3 years too so the budget options are absolutely worth it too.

6. Reconsider what's worth getting second hand. Generally when thinking about buying secondhand we mean clothes at the thrift, and that's great, but buying pre loved can be anything, and you can buy some high ticket items at an affordable price point that way.

If I ever want an appliance I always look second hand first. My rice cooker is secondhand and it is my favourite appliance. I've also bought a popcorn maker for a fraction of the price I'd buy it new, and I'm looking for a Kitchen Aid mixer for no more than a third the price they usually sell at. My vanity houses my shark air styler, I got it refurbished second hand and it was like new when I bought it. I use it every day and it still has so much wear in it.

Generally, the bigger and heavier something is, the closer to free you can get it, because the people getting rid of it just want it gone. If you ever need a washing machine or some furniture, look on gumtree or local no buy groups first. Type "free ___" followed by where you live into Google to get an idea whats available. If you're furnishing a space it's very likely you can get everything you need for the cost of the van you hired to collect it all.

7. Frozen vegetables. Fresh produce is getting more expensive and because we neurodivergent and mentally ill people can have a habit of letting fresh produce rot in the fridge, wasting money and making more mess to clean up, it's usually not worth it. The thing is, frozen produce is cheaper because it is picked in season, healther because it is frozen at optimum ripeness, and can be safely stored in your freezer for months, it's so worth doing.

They're usually pre-cut and can generally just be chucked into your dish frozen to defrost while cooking, making them easy and accessible. You can buy mixed vegetable packs (in the UK the most common is sweetcorn/peas/carrots and broccoli/cauliflower/) for some variety too, which I like to just dump a portion into soups or broths for some added vitamins.

8. Medication delivery. I've been medicated for mental illness for years, and a regular problem I used to have was I would neglect going to pick up my meds because I was depressed, then I'd run out and be unable to collect them because the lack of meds was making me more depressed.

Now however, I'm signed up with an online pharmacy. They processes my prescriptions exactly the same way any other pharmacy would and dispense them through the post in a box that fits through my letterbox. I never have to leave the house for meds again which is actually a lifesaver, the shipping is super cheap, like free for 3 day delivery and £2.99 for next day, and it's all processed through a super simple app that I only have to use like one a month when I request my refill.

It's so worth it and if you struggle to get out like me I absolutely recommend it. In the UK it's called Lloyd's Direct Pharmacy, but I'm sure it's a service you can find in other places of the world too.

9. Laundry separation is a lie. Which isn't a big deal for people who don't care about throwing money away on extra loads or people who have the spoons to faff around separating their clothes arbitrarily, but for poor neurodivergent people, it is.

So here's the thing, the rules of separating laundry by colour came about when clothes were made of all natural materials that would stick to each other when agitated and natural dyes that would run in water. Nowadays, clothes are made of synthetic or blended materials that can handle the friction of a modern machine and synthetic dyes that hold up to basically anything. 99% of clothes on the market, and therefore probably 99% of your wardrobe, is polycotton or some other poly-blend. So generally, everything you have can just all go in together on a warm wash.

Now, if you have woolen, linen or cashmere pieces, you should be separating them and following the care instructions on the label, but everything else, just shove it in mate, nothing bad will happen.

10. Protein powder. Protein powder is cheap, it's stored dry to it basically never goes bad, it's obviously protein so it's a really good addition to your diet, it tastes of whatever flavour you buy it in so it's a good meal substitute if you're depressed and your appetite is low, and it comes together really easily.

I usually get it in big tubs because they're cheaper per gram that way and I just add them to my coffee/hot chocolate for a boost or stir it into some Greek yogurt for a quick healthy snack. Thats actually my favourite way to get protein in because it's like 2 minutes and it covers up that sour taste yogurt has. I've also stirred it into milk for my cereal to varying success but it's good because the fat in the milk and the carbs and fortified vitamins in the cereal make it basically a meal. If I'm struggling for breakfast I usually add a scoop or two to an instant porridge pot and I have a ready to eat nutritional meal ready in the time it takes to boil the kettle.

[suratan-zir]

long rant, very personal

nothing new honestly, I know y'all are sick of hearing the same lame story over and over again

sorry

You know how sometimes certain sounds, images or even smells can evoke some nostalgic memories from the past? It happens to everyone, right? To me, it doesn't matter if these flashbacks good or bad, it means I'm screwed either way. It's even worse when the memories are happy, because so many things are gone forever and there is no going back.

Recently I've been playing sims, and they were listening to the radio. I forgot that a long time ago I put some of my favorite songs in one of the folders, so the "Pop" station in the game has some real songs along with Simlish ones. I haven't listened to some of those songs in years.

Then that one song started playing, and an entire part of my life flashed before my eyes. I listened to that song a lot while on the road, during my weekly travels from my hometown in Donetsk oblast (where I was born and lived 'till I was 16) to Donetsk city, where my grandmother and other relatives lived, and where I attended some courses before the uni. I also listened to it on the road to another town, where my other grandma and my best girl friend lived, so I visited her every long holiday.

Why all these boring details are significant in any way?

Both intercity bus stations in Donetsk, which used to be my destination, no longer exist. "Zapadnyi" and "Pulitovskyi" they were called. "Zapadnyi" was located near the airport, so it was completely destroyed in battles for Donetsk airport back when russia first invaded us, in 2014. It wasn't even fully finished before being destroyed.

No buses or passengers there anymore.

"Pulitovskyi" station was not that far too, russian militants even blew up the bridge connecting the station with the city. To be honest, even when I lived in Donetsk, I no longer visited that part of the city, it was just too sad.

I know that it's not important on a surface level, all these places are just decorations, it's not the end of the world. But our memories, our lives consist of such decorations, random places on the map. When everything around falls apart and changes so suddenly, it feels weird and disorienting, most of the time I try to avoid direct contact with these changes, but I can't control my memory.

Fast forward to today, I will probably never be able to return to the city that I used to love so much. And my grandma no longer lives in Donetsk, she's "russian" now, along with brainwashing that often comes with such status. You already know it if you for some reason read my posts. She thinks that russia and putin are saving and liberating us here in Ukraine. I no longer call her "grandma" or call her at all, I have her blocked on my phone, our chat deleted. Funny enough, my ex friend also lives in russia now. Or so she was the last time I checked.

My other grandma from the town in Donetsk oblast left the country and is a refugee now. I have so many great memories of that town, if the russians will advance further in the Donbas (which they are trying to do) the town will become another Bakhmut, Vuhledar, etc. This is Mar'inka now, very close to the aforementioned town:

(and yes, this is a russian tank firing at a house, or what's left of it)

There was a town, now it's a lifeless desert.

I don't have that many memories, because I never had too much going on in my life. I know, it's embarrassing. Not only have I never been to other countries, I haven't even traveled much in Ukraine. My whole life until 2021 was in the Donbas region. Even my vacations were there, we didn't have money to travel. Every summer we would go to the Azov sea, which is now completely under the control of russia. What I wouldn't give to be once again on the shore of that godforsaken sea, even though I can now afford something better. I remember its smell and miss it so much. I was 18 when russia first came to my home to tear it apart. I couldn't live normally, I couldn't plan anything, I couldn't even buy furniture for my apartment because I only dreamt about leaving, and it was impossible to bring anything big with us through all the military posts from Donetsk. Years later, when we thought we are about to finally start living, traveling, enjoying everything that was taken from us for so long… yeah, you know the story.

Now life suddenly seems so short, it's passing by and I'm helpless to change anything. I'm so sick of living through this shit. Sick of the russians stealing my youth, my life, our lives, poisoning our memories, ruining everything around us.

I swear, I held it together before that fucking song started playing. I probably shouldn't post this, I have to at least disable reblogging, it's too embarrassing.

[rueitae]

Season 1, Episode 9 the French connection caper for @csweekly

I am so late. The entire family has been sick.

But I am READY for the pain once again.

Dr. Bellum’s turn to make the slideshow. Her’s is very techy. Also, Chase I know he eats mints all the time, but for it to show up prominently in his profile that VILE created of you, that is something.

I’m sorry but i LOVE that Chase saved Zack’s cover I’m dying. This entire show remembers that not everyone knows everything and absolutely leans into it and it’s more fun than other shows that try this.

But they apparently don’t care about the cell phone she stole. They probably think she was talking to Chase the whole time which is actually a hilarious AU. Someone please write that.

“Carmen Sandiego isn’t working alone” *points to Player*

“Sounds like we have plan B as in bait” *AGGRESSIVELY points to Player*

The lucky cat coat my beloved. “It was on sale” truly one of the greatest lines ever.

You GO Julia. Gosh she’s such a good person. She tries to include Chase even after he’s been absolute trash to her. And she finally gets to let loose a bit. This argument is so good. Needed to be had for both of them. All season Julia has needed to get this out. And really it’s the first dose of reality towards Chase turning a new leaf. He’s not in charge like in Interpol. He may be an agent but hes been demoted down the food chain and having to come to terms with his attitude not jelling with ACME.

“Since you are Chief’s favorite” until Zack joins, apparently

Everyone is plotting something but it’s not what the person who says the line thinks. Chase thinks Carmen is plotting a caper when she’s actually at a loss for VILE leads and on vacation. Carmen thinks Shadowsan is plotting on how to get her back when he’s really planning to join her. Fantastic little exchange there.

Ivy predicts VILE’s next hq. The foreshadowing in this show.

I love the siblings in this scene. I have never seen any sequence of events so sibling in my life.

Also others have pointed it out but Carmen can’t relax. That is heartbreaking. Honestly her entire childhood simultaneously is filled with good memories and also is a complete nightmare. Get this girl a professional to talk to.

This scene where we find out how Coach Brunt feels did not properly fill me with absolute horror the first time. Now it does. It just makes me scream nooooo because Shadowsan had a clean getaway. And Chase might have been spared.

Okay. Yes. This scene. With the toothpaste. This is when I knew with absolute certainty that Chase was getting a redemption arc. Characters typically don’t get to be shown such self loathing and not turn it around in the end. And I developed a desperate desire to see him and Carmen work together (AND I GOT MY WISH).

Also vile brand toothpaste what the heck. Why does it exist lol

I’d pay money to know what was running through Player’s head when he read that note the first time, before he read it aloud to Carmen

Carmen no don’t smile this is not your average caper. For you to test your abilities.

The way we see that Chase has actual interrogation training when he chooses to use his head. A+ awful singing. He’s seen over half the Faculty now! That truth extractor is TERRIFYING. I use it in every fic.

Red Drone tapping on the window. Adorable. Simple. Effective.

OKaY casually BENDING METAL with her BARE HANDS

Aww red brings out Ivy's eyes but red is not Zack’s color lol! I would be terrified too Zack.

Love this scene. Chase is accusing Carmen of everything and she just sounds so kind as she rescues him. She knows it’s not true and she’s okay being the bad guy as long as others are safe.

Reminding the audience that Carmen has a taser.

First time seeing the pen! At this point I can’t help but see Carmen’s stress here and think she has to know that the status quo is changing. She looks like a deer in headlights. Already in way over her head.

Also he’s heavy lol. Carmen is very obviously strong and she struggles to pull Chase deadweight. I don’t blame her it’s hard to do. The fact that she makes headway is impressive.

The way Brunt finishes that sentence, “too late” I tell you I am never prepared for what is to come. This entire sequence is just *chefs kiss*. The absolute methodical way that Brunt corners Carmen, isolates her, strips her of all of her agency, makes her helpless. TEARS THE COAT IN HALF!!!!!! It’s SUPER EFFECTIVE. I know it’s already been pointed out but it’s such a parallel to her childhood but now Carmen sees the truth of it all.

And I just really love a good whump scene.

Also, friendly reminder that Player. Heard. EVERYTHING. Sign him up for therapy too.

The moment Carmen realizes what’s about to happen is the moment she can’t breathe.

Shadowsan didn’t even need to see Ivy to realize that Carmen was back at the warehouse. It still astounds me how fast he was. I also love how intense he is up until he can’t any longer. It’s like it’s so hard for him to drop this act that he’s played for so long.

Again. Player heard everything. The terror of hearing your best friend in a fight for her life and there’s literally nothing he can do.

Ahh and the gradual realization that Shadowsan’s not who he seeeeeems. The view of Carmen not dead. The broken lock. The way he visibly softens as he tells her to follow him. The way he gets uncomfortable under her questioning now that he can’t hide behind his gruffness. I am absolutely delighted every time I watch this I remember being SO shocked and thrilled the first time I watched this. It’s the joy of seeing everything fall into place plot wise. So satisfying.

“There is nothing more to tell” LIAR

Carmen’s joy when she gets confirmation the coat was empty!!! AND Shadowsan being GENUINELY proud of her instead of upset about it please. I know considering the circumstances in which he found her, that Shadowsan would consider himself far from her father figure. But it’s the role he was given in life. And he’s TRYING.

“You knew what they’d do to me when I said no” it’s only after the confrontation with Coach Brunt that Carmen can really understand why Shadowsan did what he did.

The way skeptical Player still apologizes to Carmen in empathy that Shadowsan leaves. (Lol Player is so unapologetically on Carmen’s side to call Shadowsan the worst even after all of that. Considering the nightmare scene in the lucky cat caper there have been Talks and this is just what best friends do gosh I wish we had a scene where Player grills him but also he respects that’s Carmen’s agency so urghhhh) (also also it’s cute Player calls Chase a detective rather than agent in a nice homage to the older CS iterations) And we see the gift of a new hard drive. It’s. This is SUCH a perfect season finale. Enough answers to respectably tie off many s1 plot points but with the hard drive and Shadowsan’s dodgy answers leaves plenty of promise for the next season.

[thebrethrenpost]

First Time Traveling in Thailand

This is actually my very first time traveling to a different country. And as it turns out, like everything you experience for the first time, it is overwhelming as hell! From the preparation to going to the airport, to figuring out which characters say "Men" in the restroom. (Thank heavens for the invention of icons!)🧍‍♂️

Despite that, it was one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life. My wife and I had the most fulfilling adventure that improved our perspective on the world, our personal capabilities, and our spiritual growth. In this blog, I want to share how we planned our first trip to Thailand.

Preparation

Most of the successes¹ that we experienced on our trip were because of my wife’s organisational skills in seriously taking the time to research, plan and endlessly evaluate. We have designed our trip 8 months before the actual flight. My wife always wanted to go to another country to explore and for other reasons. (*cough* bragging rights *cough*) 

Anyway, yes. For 8 months of preparation, we kept our finances in check, set goals on our bank accounts², and planned the routes of the places were going. no agencies, no internal connections. Just plain YouTube videos and Facebook Groups in DIY Travel Communities. 

Because of this preparation phase, we have enjoyed our travel to the fullest, without looking like the wandering idiots that we already are. It was just pack, airport, immigration, plane, train and then boom! 🇹🇭You’re in the hotel as if you already know the country. No asking obvious questions that’ll embarrass you, no checking on the phone what to say nor what to do, and no first-time experience anxiety. Which was kind of weird, to be honest, it was that smooth.

The Trip

The trip went flawlessly as long as you took the time and effort to plan things out in your itinerary. Although you don’t need to follow it chronologically (if you’re on a DIY travel plan), just think of it as a checklist for you to use to find the most efficient way to get things done. Most of the time, we managed to tick off almost everything on the Day 1 itinerary, allowing us to jump into Day 2 activities.

The only struggle for us was knowing the difference between fair pricing for a tuk-tuk ride. We were aware that there are many scammers in Thailand, as in all other tourist places in the world. So, we used the Grab app and then bargained our way there. For example, if a Grab Car ride costs 100฿ Baht from point A to point B, we would negotiate with the tuk-tuk driver for 70฿ or 80฿ Baht. It didn’t work every time, but at least we knew what the fair price was.

Conclusions

I really enjoyed this trip, and it actually inspired me to save more money for future travels. I’m grateful for the long preparation my wife did just to make this adventure of a lifetime happen. It wasn’t easy, and boy, was it tedious. But it allowed me to enjoy my time on the journey, not waste myself wandering and being frustrated, and ending up lost.

In fact, we were so organized in our plan that we took the time to learn the language, understand the culture, genuinely taste the food and not just "eat it," and spend time becoming one of the people, not just tourists. The best part was having extra money in our budget because we realized we didn’t have to spend as much as we thought.

Things will try to get in your way of making it happen³—unexpected health issues, financial crises, not getting approved by immigration, or even just being unlucky. But if you’re immensely determined and plan things out, it will come together as if it was meant to be.

Kap Khun Krap

You can check the itinerary here if you want to plan your own travel. It has all the details you need.

¹not getting offloaded, lost, scammed, buying the right food and not overspending from the budget are considered successes for us.

²(and by setting goals on our bank accounts I mean consistently putting money and not just putting a one-time big cash in the bank statement. -  when the immigration office gets a chance to see that, they might be sceptical of the sudden change and may lead you offloaded.)

³That's why I recommend building an emergency fund first. It'll be even better if you have life insurance and health insurance. And yes, that was also part of our planning.

[strititty]

per my last reblog i decided to ramble in about nerds aint got shit, my most popular fic.

well, ostensibly i’m rambling about that but honestly i have 3 am motormouth and i took an edible so im just in that sort of mood, you know. all philosophical like. more under the cut

i wrote that fic in 2015 for drone season, when i was living in - and i cannot stress this enough - the MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE, though not as much as i would be the year afterward. my internet was shitty cornfield hotspot net and it was the summer after my first year of college so i had a helluva lot on my mind already.

the original document was just a little notepad file with word wrap turned on cuz that’s how i used to write all my shit, and i’d send people wips via pastebin. can you even imagine? PASTEBIN? i use google docs now but sometimes i wonder if i should go back to notepad lmao. smaller size, less evil google involved. when i was a kid i used word, though i can’t remember when that stopped being a thing. might have been during high school.

since i wrote nerds aint got shit so shortly after i had graduated high school i had a very clear picture of my OWN high school in my head, which probably lends itself to some weird stylistic quirks. my high school was very very small. i shan’t name it, of course, lmao, what am i some sort of fool? but it was tiny as hell and that tends to infect any sort of high school adjacent au i write. rereading it i can so clearly picture MY high school that it’s frankly a little funny.

fortunately my high school only had one creepy teacher and it wasnt the PE teacher + we got his ass fired, but fiction makes for a much more fun place to explore these sorts of ideas for me. idk why i have such a thing about age differences & teacher/student fics but i SURE DO.

i can still remember the summer days writing this fic, kind of, in a hazy way. i remember my phone being the only way i could connect with my friends and loved ones, and the sun beating down, and the way things were far too hot in my little room. my cat had gotten out and gotten pregnant by a farm cat, so i had to cough up money to get her fixed - she should have been already but the people i lived with were less concerned about that sort of thing and i’d been at college so i hadn’t been able to make my case. the kittens were cute but tiny and stunted b/c my cat was very young and small & only two of them survived. i think the third one was stillborn and that my cat ate that one, but since i wasn’t there when they were born i didn’t get a lot of the details.

i still think about this fic sometimes for the memories it draws up and the plans i have to revamp and add on to it--my initial idea was a sort of 7 day format where dave goes back to bro every day of the week, but that was a plot for when i was a more prolific writer with a clearer grasp of smut. now im lucky if i can get a coherent smutty fic down in a few weeks god save me lmao. i don’t know if it’s because i’m older or just a little more burned out.

it was a fun idea though and i do semi frequently consider revisiting it, especially when i get the energy and inspiration to write strider stuff. right now that energy is being conserved for certain other works but hey you never know.

i feel like there’s also a hundred points i could make about how my most popular fic is also my oldest homestuck fic, like. yeah, okay, homestuck was more popular back then, so it makes sense that it would have more kudos and what not. hs fanfic is a much quieter affair now, between the fandom controversy, the natural drop that happens after something ends, and how half of all fandom seems to be girlbossing too close to the hayes code. brodave used to get you 200 kudos and now you get like 20!

and you know i don’t like. hate that. i do post for engagement but i never really expected to be POPULAR you know what i mean? more like sharing this thing i wrote about something i’m interested in-- “i wrote this for me but you can read it too, please enjoy!” energies. but i think that it’s so interesting that something that is now approaching its eighth birthday (What The Fuck) had its biggest surge of participants ages ago. i wonder what they’re doing now and actually whatever theyre doing i hope theyre having fun with it but i don’t need to know because i’ve been burned before okay. ppl turning into fancops or whatever. shitty as hell.

the hour grows late so i shall return to the actual topic at hand:

nerds aint got shit’s ill-begotten romance. that shit was gonna be so toxic. i was definitely gonna write dave growing to sympathize with bro, kind of, with his crush fueled by terror kicked into overdrive. bro’s kind of a sad and pathetic weirdo even though to dave (and this is real, not imagined, dave’s not making it up) he is a significant threat. and dave was going to start to pick up those sad jerk vibes in addition to the horny vibes and start to, in an almost lalondian fashion, romanticize the shit out of it.

in a manner of speaking, anyway. im not sure if that was my full plan or what but there’s also just the gremlin brain breathing heavily going “god this is my favorite dynamic” which back then was fairly true. i had also written almost 20k of original teacher/student fiction so romanticizing that was not a new concept to me. i think there’s a part of me that does want to be in that place, you know, but from a safe distance where it’s also just fun and games.

that’s why fics are fun! that’s why trashy romance is fun :) insert something about ace kink here. i do not want to actually touch it but mentally touching it is ok.

nowadays i don’t write so much teacher/student fic tho im still hells of deep in my love of age differences. more often than not i find myself kind of drawn to a cougar/kid in their late teens dynamic nowadays for original fiction, tho i also love ancient vampire/regular human and just minor age and experience differences.

(jotting down ‘rose lalonde as a cougar’ for a future fic idea thanks)

i think ive grown away from this fic mostly, but it feels like a wild time capsule to me, and maybe one day i will unearth it to add more. maybe in 2025 for the a ten year anniversary.

[tacto02]

I hate uncles who want approval

My Twitter account was suddenly frozen on February 3rd.

All accounts were frozen without warning account ban.

At midnight on February 3rd, the account update suddenly stopped, and in front of me was the message "Your account is frozen and cannot be used."

I immediately filed an objection in Japanese and English.

But it's been 3 weeks without any contact.

Uncle who wants approval says it's AI's fault.

There have been funny updates so far, but the AI's intelligence is too low. No, the human being to control it is "too bad"

Even if they plan to freeze spam accounts all at once, how about a company, let alone a student, if they don't learn about spam in each country and leave it to AI based on their own sensibilities?

Japan had a large freeze in January before February.

In either case, there is no effect on spam accounts and it is a freezing act that can be said to be terrorism against harmless creators.

Meanwhile, the uncle who wants approval who bought Twitter asks me to reply to the problem that is happening on Twitter now..

Even if you don't reply like that, as a CEO, you don't even check the actual situation of the company you bought yourself, and the uncle who wants approval recommends his own tweet just for his desire for approval. He is an uncle who wants approval with money and fired an employee who made a point about his tweet not being seen. If you don't like it, get fired immediately. Well, people who work at Twitter right now can't even tell the truth. because they are repressed.

What the uncle who wants approval is doing now is no different from the Russian controller.

Twitter saved us during the 2.11 earthquake. I'm sure some people remember the server down at that time. I am a citizen of Fukushima Prefecture and was in Fukushima at the time. In such a situation where TV and phone are not properly connected, Twitter can be used to check the safety of friends as well as useful information, and as a Japanese information tool, Twitter has the power faster than Instagram.

Thanks to Twitter, we have been able to support each other with our followers who don't even know our real names, even when we feel uneasy. It was all taken away.

Lost all followers and community for over 10 years.

Uncle Desire for Approval should be commendable for dismissing and fixing some Twitter managers who were controlling speech, but now Twitter has become an SNS that can't be used as much as it is. Is it right for SNS with anxiety that everything may be frozen even if you can not DM or give illustrations drawn by yourself? No, that's not freedom of speech. If you want to promote freedom of speech, all you have to do is avoid using words you don't like. It was a story. The uncle who wants approval is trying to force a meaningless update, make Twitter shoulder his debt, and even try to make a scapegoat for his position as CEO. I'm so angry with people who have put a sense of responsibility in their womb.

My anger and amazement will not stop now that neither the contact from Twitter nor the uncle who wants approval will give a proper explanation. I don't want to rely on unreliable tools that don't unlock accounts that I accidentally frozen before starting a new job, but most of the information in Japan is done on Twitter, which is frustrating. I wish I could go back to the early days when I could casually tweet. I want you to return the place where you muttered your own words without any reason.

i'm not spam I have not violated any rules. I'm sorry to my followers even though I was only uploading illustrations. Thanks to everyone who read my rants this far. wishing spring to harmless users all over the world