#it literally just. sounds like the original but with new things

[breelandwalker]

Wolf Moon - January 13 2025

Shake off the cold and sing to the sky, witches - it’s time for the Wolf Moon!

Wolf Moon

The Wolf Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of January. The name is said to be derived from the sound of wolves howling with hunger while prey is scarce in the midst of winter. Given that we now know that wolves howl mostly for communication, my personal opinion is that people huddled in their homes during a very dark and dangerous time of year probably noticed these sounds a lot more readily with little else to occupy their time as they waited out the winter, and thus were set to worrying about ravenous beasts invading their villages and farmsteads. (It’s worth noting that wolves preying on livestock was a very real concern for most people outside major cities for many centuries, so this isn’t entirely unfounded.)

The name also calls to mind the howling of the wind during winter storms, or whistling around the eaves during the long cold nights. And for those of us who might not have been careful with our spending over the holidays, I might cite a tongue-in-cheek reference to the wolves being at the door when those credit card bills come due.

[For those not familiar with the English phrase, to have “a wolf at the door” is a saying that refers to some imminent hardship or disaster. In modern parlance, this is usually applied to poor finances or looming bankruptcy.]

This month, the moon peaks at 5:27pm EST on Monday January 13th, so the moon may appear to be full on the nights of the 12th or 13th, depending on where you are in the world.

Some North American indigenous names for the month of January and its’ moon are Cold Moon (Cree), Center Moon (Assiniboine), Severe Moon (Dakota), Ice Moon (Catawba), and Spirit Moon (Ojibwe). Other names include Mantis Moon (South African origins), Quiet Moon (Celtic), and Moon After Yule (Anglo-Saxon).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

As a new year dawns, it’s time for rest and reflection before we set out on the next phase of our journey. While the cold weather lingers, take some time to sit by the fire, literally or metaphorically, and take stock of where you stand, what resources are available, and what you plan to do with them.

Check in with your near-and-dear following the mad rush of the holiday season as well. Make sure that friends, family, and community members around you are doing all right. Offer support and kindness where you can, but don’t overextend yourself. It’s your time to recuperate too, and it is good and healthy to set boundaries which allow time and space for yourself.

While it's a bit early to expect progress on our goals and resolutions, the beginning of a new calendar year is a good time to lay the foundation for what we intend to do with the year to come and to reflect on the year that has just ended. It's also the perfect time for self-assessment in your craft. Take a moment to acknowledge where you are, how you've grown, and what you might like to do next. Perhaps do some journaling on the subject, if you're so inclined. You can outline your craft knowledge and beliefs, mark the lessons you've learned, or record your progress. (This is a great way to measure future milestones and personal growth!)

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Winter is a prime time for storytelling. Back in the days before internet or television or radio, people would often read to each other or tell tales to pass the time. Consider re-reading a favorite book that inspires you or exploring some region of folklore or mythology you’ve been meaning to look into. If you have children who are of an age to enjoy stories, read them some of your favorites or introduce them to something new. Share stories and discussions with your witchy circle too!

While you’re at it, take a moment to examine the role that folklore and stories play in your practice. If you subscribe to a particular mythos, be it through deities or just general belief, consider which parts of it resonate the most with you and why.

Consider also the lessons of the winter season - the necessity of rest between periods of growth and activity, and the role of death, cold, and darkness in the natural cycles of life. What do these things mean to you and your practice? Are they a source of fear or fascination? Do you come alive in the winter or bundle up and wait for spring? How can you best remind yourself to pause for breath as the year goes on?

And of course, the beginning of a new year is an excellent time for goal-setting and divination. You’re making resolutions for your mundane life, so make a few for your craft while you’re at it, and pull out your cards or runes or pendulum for a New Year forecast on how things might go. If you need some ideas or inspiration, you can check out this article on Casting The Bones or try this craft-building exercise to Create Your Own Personal Runes.

Happy Wolf Moon, witches! 🐺🌕

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Wolf Moon: Full Moon in January, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Why The 2025 January Wolf Moon Is So Insanely Powerful, The Peculiar Brunette.

Casting The Bones: How to Read and Throw Bones, The Peculiar Brunette.

Witchcraft Exercise - Creating Your Own Runes, Bree NicGarran. (Masterlist here)

Moon Info - Full Moon Dates for 2025

Calendar-12 - 2025 Moon Phases

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Source: What Is A Wolf Moon?, The Fact Site.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, check out my monthly show Hex Positive, and find my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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When you arrived back at the manor, it was clear that you needed to get your shit in order.

The situation was crazy to begin with, but this newest revelation was something you just couldn’t wrap your head around. It was one thing to reincarnate into the past, or even in a separate world, given the very high likelihood of multiple galaxies existing. But this was just a game. It wasn’t real. So then, how was this possible?

Obviously, you didn’t have the answer to that question, and you weren’t even sure if you ever would find the answer. But that was really beside the point. It didn’t matter how you ended up here—what mattered was what in the hell you were going to do.

For the time being, you decided to lock yourself in your room and try to rack for your brain for just about everything you could remember. Thankfully, you’d just recently finished the game, so most of the details were still relatively fresh in your mind.

The most pressing issue was obviously that the game you found yourself in was by no means a happy one. It was marketed as a dark fantasy for a reason, because the love interests were dangerous and hardly good people. The yandere genre had become explosively popular over the course of the past decade. It was particularly enjoyable due to the strange thrill it provided people with, the mystery and suspense, but yanderes were far from desirable. The game had both a good and bad ending for each of the love interests, with all of the bad endings being remarkably messed up, and even the “good” endings were plenty concerning in their own right.

Which is why it was quite a bitter irony that the game was called Zodin’s Benevolence, given that there was nothing truly benevolent about the twisted challenges the protagonist was forced to undergo. She repeatedly found herself tangled up in all sorts of sinister plots after being adopted into a baron’s family and acquiring a noble status.

The good news was that you hadn’t been reincarnated as the protagonist, which meant that so long as you kept your distance from the main events of the storyline, there shouldn’t really be any reason for you to get dragged into that mess.

A grimace fell upon your lips. Thinking about it like that, it sounded a bit selfish to intentionally ignore a poor woman’s suffering, but you’d finally been given a chance at a proper life. The last thing you needed was to suffer a gruesome death at the hands of yanderes simply because you’d interfered with their twisted obsessions.

“I will do absolutely nothing,” you stated determinedly. “There’s no way my character even existed in the first place. When I woke up in this world, it sort of created a little slot for me to fit in. In other words, I’m a side character, and my actions should have no effect on the story so long as I don’t get involved.”

Yes, that was the plan. Do nothing. You could do that. You were very good at doing nothing.

The rules of this “game” you found yourself in—both literally and figuratively—were rather simple. Actually, there was only one rule at all, and that was to stay as far away from the protagonist and yanderes as possible. Which, given that you’d accidentally run into Cassius today, meant that you already weren’t off to a very good start. But a simple bump-in shouldn’t be reason enough for him to go after you with a vengeance. Apart from deliberating angering him, the only thing you could of think that would incur his wrath would be to prevent him from interacting with the game’s protagonist.

Speaking of... how far into the game am I at this point?

The game began with the protagonist being adopted by a kind baron after dutifully waiting on him during one of his trips to the countryside. She then proceeded to move into his estate, getting acquainted with her new life, and promptly beginning lessons at the renowned academy in Zodite’s capital city, as per her adoptive father’s wishes to grant her a formal education. This was the catalyst that set the plot in motion, because it was at the academy that the protagonist met the first yandere—none other than Cassius himself.

As far as you could recall, Zodin’s Benevolence began sometime early summer, because the baron encountered the protagonist while in the middle of a leisurely seasonal trip. Given how warm the weather currently was, summer was either peeking right around the corner, or already here. Which meant that there likely wasn’t much time left until the official plot was set in motion.

Although you had no concrete benchmark as to when it would officially begin, one thing was for sure. If you wanted to avoid an early death again, you would need to keep your eyes peeled for the protagonist’s appearance and keep her away from you by any means.

You frowned, nibbling on your bottom lip.

It’s okay. I can be selfish. No, I have to be selfish. It’s the only way.

Dying from illness was one thing, but the things those crazy bastards were capable of... you had a feeling that dying by their hands would be a million times more painful than anything you’d ever endured.

This new life had been placed right in the palms of your hands, and you’d be damned if you were going to let go of it.

“Mom, dad. Do you think it would be alright if I stopped going to the academy?”

After having discovered that you were in a yandere dating sim, that was the question you chose to ask your parents the very next morning.

Naturally, they were completely flabbergasted.

“Is this another one of your jokes? You wanted to go to school so badly up until now. Sorry, we’re just struggling to understand where all this is coming from.”

It had been your hope that in not attending the academy, you could prevent any run-ins with both the protagonist and the yanderes. But truthfully, you did want to go to school, because your sickness had prevented you from actually attending college back in your old world. It sounded like the version of you in this world was interested in pursuing an education as well, so perhaps it was for the best that you went. You couldn’t stand to see your parents’ disappointed expression once more, even in this reality.

From what you recalled seeing in the game, the campus was quite large, so if you were cautious, there was no reason for you to get wrapped up with the yanderes.

That being said...

You still didn’t want to be ill-prepared for what this world had to offer. There was only so much that had been outright stated in the game; you would have to find out the rest for yourself. One of the key points that you wanted to look into was the usage of magic. In this world, magic was mainly used through magical ores, which helped to supply certain buildings with things like electricity, heat, and even reinforcing walls with something akin to a barrier. Some people were blessed with magical abilities themselves, although it was exceedingly rare. The topic of mages had been briefly touched upon in the game, and it seemed as though with every passing generation, fewer and fewer people found themselves capable of such feats. Dwindling bloodlines, or something like that.

It did make you curious, though. Was it at all possible that you might be fortunate enough to be a mage yourself? If so, you could train your abilities to make sure that you would be able to protect yourself from harm in the event that something really did go wrong.

You didn’t really know how to use magic, though. After all, the game didn’t exactly expand on this detail very much.

So, you tried various methods to see if you could channel some hidden power. Reciting cringy incantations, straining your body so hard that it made you feel like you had to rush to the bathroom—you even drew a horribly misshapen pentagram on the floor of your bedroom, with leftover jam from your breakfast, and Lizbell nearly fainted when she saw the mess.

Needless to say, none of it worked, so you decided to just come out and ask.

“Can I use magic?”

For the second time that same morning, your parents gaped at you.

“My dear, what’s the matter?” your father chuckled. “You’ve been going full throttle since yesterday. Your mother and I can hardly keep up.”

“Does that mean I can’t use magic?”

“Of course not, good heavens. You know very well we don’t come from a family of mages.”

Despite their immediate dismissals, you knew that it was possible for people to potentially grow into their magical powers. Magical ability was traditionally passed down by blood, but it could just as easily manifest in an unsuspecting individual. Hopefully, that individual was you.

“I haven’t been able to use magic up until now, but something may have changed recently,” you persisted. “That’s what I meant. I’m wondering if my abilities have awakened by now.”

Fortunately, your parents had always been the patient sort, so they merely shrugged their shoulders. “If you're really still holding out hope for a thing, then you can always go and get tested at the Bureau of Magic.”

You decided to do just that. The Bureau of Magic’s central headquarters was a large, impressive building. You didn’t really know anything about this organization, but you were tickled pink by the thought of being magically gifted on top of having perfect health. You could already imagine it, shooting fireballs from your hands and creating geysers out of nothing.

You were going to be the best mage ever—

“Zero magical affinity,” the man testing you stated. “Although there are cases where people may develop magic over time, by looking at your mana reservoir, I can tell that there is absolutely no chance of you ever becoming a mage.”

Well, that was certainly a short-lived dream.

The man then frowned, peering closer into the strange device he was measuring your aptitude with. “Come to think of it though, this is really strange. Even average citizens have very trace amounts of mana in their system. Mana is present in all living things, whether or not they can actually manifest that mana and convert it into magical energy. I’ve never seen a case like yours before, not in all my years of working here. You’re an anomaly. Almost as if you aren’t meant to be a part of this world...”

Uh-oh. It sounded like he was starting to get suspicious, so you hurried to wave him off. “Your machine must be broken,” you dismissed flippantly. “Anyways, I’ve already lost interest in becoming a mage, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“What? Miss, if you could just—”

“Gotta go, bye!”

Since magic was clearly a no-go, you figured you should at least have another plan to fall back onto. You were weak and sickly back in your previous life, but you had a perfectly healthy body in this one. There was no reason you couldn’t pick up a weapon and learn how to protect yourself. For instance, sword-fighting!

“You want to do what?” your parents blanched. It was the third time today that they were confused beyond belief, though they looked particularly horrified in this instance.

“Sword-fighting,” you repeated calmly. “I just think it’d be neat.”

“Oh, [Name], but why that of all things? Those blades are seriously dangerous, you know. You could hurt yourself!”

“Well, not if I’m good at it.”

“Someone in your position will never have to worry about their safety,” they insisted. “We can hire more guards to keep watch outside the manor if it’ll help you feel better. Come on now, what use have you for a weapon like that?”

“It’s not that I’m worried about my safety.” That’s a lie. “I just want to challenge myself and see if I can do this. Plus, I think it’d be pretty amazing if I could pull something like this off. I’d be bragging about it constantly.” Okay, that part isn’t entirely a lie.

Their reluctance was plain as day, but as expected—they just couldn’t seem to say no to you.

“Very well,” your father sighed. “But we’ll at least be hiring an instructor to ensure that you have someone watching over you and making sure you’re safe while you train. Please allow us at least this much.”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” you beamed. “I’ll learn faster with a teacher, anyways.”

So far, things were looking good. You had your plan to stay out of everyone’s way and make sure you didn’t become a target, and in the event that it all failed, you would at least have some way of fighting for your life.

“Oh, and uh, the sooner the better,” you said. “I’d like to start learning as early as possible, since I’m just so excited! Okay? Okay!”

You proceeded to skip out the room before they could mutter a protest.

It was actually incredible how much your parents loved you. They were parents from a different reality, but your parents nonetheless. In spite of their visible concerns to allow you to wield a sword, they’d managed to secure you a personal instructor in less than twenty-four hours.

Currently, you were out in the courtyard, eagerly awaiting your guest. You were dressed in a loose tunic and comfortable pants that were perfecting for working up a sweat in. It was a shame you couldn’t wear clothes like these more often, though you had to admit that your collection of dresses was rather delightful.

It was hot out. Definitely summer, you were sure of it now. It was a good thing you were starting your sword-fighting lessons so early on. Even if you never ending up needing your soon-to-be lethal skills, you would definitely feel more at ease knowing that you had them.

Your personal instructor was apparently a knight, so you were already inclined to trust that he had hands-on experience. You wondered what he’d look like. Knights in fantasy settings like this one were always so damn attractive. Hopefully he wasn’t much older than you...

Ah, focus, goddammit! What does it matter what he looks like? The most important thing is staying alive.

You lightly slapped yourself upside the head. Right. No distractions. You were no longer the same weak person from your miserable previous life. You were a living miracle, and a future sword-wielding badass.

Hardly a minute later, your tortuous wait seemed to have come to an end, and you were able to get a good look at your new instructor.

Wait, is that...

“Good day, Lady [Name],” the knight greeted, bowing his head courteously. “My name is Sergei Garin, member of the Cavalry Brigade. I am humbled to be in your service.”

You couldn’t quite seem to hide the shock on your face. Sergei Garin. You knew this character. Fortunately, he wasn’t one of the yanderes—otherwise, you would’ve probably feigned a heart attack to get out of this situation. No, he was nothing but a supporting character, although a character that you admittedly had a soft spot for.

Why did you have a soft spot for him? Well...

Probably because he was fated to die.

More chapters are available on Quotev!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Chapter One of “Picks and Shovels” (Part 1)

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

My next novel is Picks and Shovels, out next month. It's tells the origin story of Martin Hench, my hard-charging, scambusting, high-tech forensic accountant, in a 1980s battle over the soul of a PC company:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

I'm currently running a Kickstarter to pre-sell the book in every format: hardcover, DRM-free ebook, and an independently produced, fabulous DRM-free audiobook read by Wil Wheaton, who just nailed the delivery:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/picks-and-shovels-marty-hench-at-the-dawn-of-enshittification

Picks and Shovels opens with a long prologue that recounts Marty's misadventures as a failing computer science student at MIT, his love-affair with computers, and his first disastrous startup venture. It ends with him decamping to Silicon Valley with his roommate Art, a brilliant programmer, to seek their fortune.

Chapter one opens with Marty's first job, working for a weird PC company (there were so many weird PC companies back then!). I've posted Wil's audio reading of chapter one as a teaser for the Kickstarter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGXz1mkAd2Q

(Here it is as an MP3 at the Internet Archive:)

https://ia600607.us.archive.org/5/items/picks-and-shovels-promo/audio.mp3

The audio is great, but I thought I'd also serialize the text of Chapter One here, in five or six chunks. If you enjoy this and want to pre-order the book, please consider backing the Kickstarter:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/picks-and-shovels-marty-hench-at-the-dawn-of-enshittification

Chapter One

Fidelity Computing was the most colorful PC company in Silicon Valley.

A Catholic priest, a Mormon bishop, and an Orthodox rabbi walk into a technology gold rush and start a computer company. The fact that it sounded like the setup for a nerdy joke about the mid-1980s was fantastic for their bottom line. Everyone who heard their story loved it.

As juicy as the story of Fidelity Computing was, they flew under most people’s radar for years, even as they built a wildly profitable technology empire through direct sales through faith groups. The first time most of us heard of them was in 1983, when Byte ran its cover story on Fidelity Computing, unearthing a parallel universe of technology that had grown up while no one was looking.

At first, I thought maybe they were doing something similar to Apple’s new Macintosh: like Apple, they made PCs (the Wise PC), an operating system (Wise DOS), and a whole line of monitors, disk drives, printers, and software.

Like the Mac, none of these things worked with anything else—you needed to buy everything from floppy disks to printer cables specially from them, because nothing anyone else made would work with their system.

And like the Mac, they sold mostly through word of mouth. The big difference was that Mac users were proud to call themselves a cult, while Fidelity Computing’s customers were literally a religion.

Long after Fidelity had been called to the Great Beyond, its most loyal customers gave it an afterlife, nursing their computers along, until the parts and supplies ran out. They’d have kept going even then, if there’d been any way to unlock their machines and use the same stuff the rest of the computing world relied on. But that wasn’t something Fidelity Computing would permit, even from beyond the grave.

I was summoned to Fidelity headquarters—in unfashionable Colma, far from the white-hot start-ups of Palo Alto, Mountain View, and, of course, Cupertino—by a friend of Art’s. Art had a lot more friends than me. I was a skipping stone, working as the part-time bookkeeper/accountant/CFO for half a dozen companies and never spending more than one or two days in the same office.

Art was hardly more stable than me—he switched start-ups all the time, working for as little as two months (and never for more than a year) before moving on. His bosses knew what they were getting: you hired Art Hellman to blaze into your company, take stock of your product plan, root out and correct all of its weak points, build core code libraries, and then move on. He was good enough and sufficiently in demand to command the right to behave this way, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. My view was, it was an extended celebration of his liberation from the legal villainy of Nick Cassidy III: having narrowly escaped a cage, he was determined never to be locked up again.

Art’s “engagements”—as he called them—earned him the respect and camaraderie of half the programmers and hardware engineers in the Valley. This, in spite of the fact that he was a public and ardent member of the Lavender Panthers, wore the badge on his lapel, went to the marches, and brought his boyfriend to all the places where his straight colleagues brought their girlfriends.

He’d come out to me less than a week after I arrived by the simple expedient of introducing the guy he was watching TV with in our living room as Lewis, his boyfriend. Lewis was a Chinese guy about our age, and his wardrobe—plain white tee, tight blue jeans, loafers—matched the new look Art had adopted since leaving Boston. Lewis had a neat, short haircut that matched Art’s new haircut, too.

To call the Art I’d known in Cambridge a slob would be an insult to the natty, fashion-conscious modern slob. He’d favored old band T-shirts with fraying armpit seams, too-big jeans that were either always sliding off his skinny hips or pulled up halfway to his nipples. In the summer, his sneakers had holes in the toes. In the winter, his boots were road-salt-crusted crystalline eruptions. His red curls were too chaotic for a white-boy ’fro and were more of a heap, and he often went days without shaving.

There were members of the Newbury Street Irregulars who were bigger slobs than Art, but they smelled. Art washed, but otherwise, he looked like a homeless person (or a hacker). His transformation to a neatly dressed, clean-shaven fellow with a twenty-five-dollar haircut that he actually used some sort of hairspray on was remarkable. I’d assumed it was about his new life as a grown-up living far from home and doing a real job. It turned out that wasn’t the reason at all.

“Oh,” I said. “That makes a lot of sense.” I shook Lewis’s hand. He laughed. I checked Art. He was playing it cool, but I could tell he was nervous. I remembered Lucille and how she listened, and what it felt like to be heard. I thought about Art, and the things he’d never been able to tell me.

There’d been a woman in the Irregulars who there were rumors about, and there were a pair of guys one floor down in Art’s building who held hands in the elevator, but as far as I knew up until that moment, I hadn’t really ever been introduced to a homosexual person. I didn’t know how I felt about it, but I did know how I wanted to feel about it.

So Art didn’t just get to know all kinds of geeks from his whistle-stop tour of Silicon Valley’s hottest new tech ventures. He was also plugged into this other network of people from the Lavender Panthers, and their boyfriends and girlfriends, and the people he knew from bars and clubs. He and Lewis lasted for a couple of months, and then there were a string of weekends where there was a new guy at the breakfast table, and then he settled down again for a while with Artemis, and then he hit a long dry spell.

I commiserated. I’d been having a dry spell for nearly the whole two years I’d been in California. The closest I came to romance was exchanging a letter with Lucille every couple of weeks—she was a fine pen pal, but that wasn’t really a substitute for a living, breathing woman in my life.

Art threw himself into his volunteer work, and he was only half joking when he said he did it to meet a better class of boys than you got at a club. Sometimes, there’d be a committee meeting in our living room and I’d hear about the congressional committee hearing on the “gay plague” and the new wave of especially vicious attacks. It was pretty much the only time I heard about that stuff—no one I worked with ever brought it up, unless it was to make a terrible joke.

It was Murf, one of the guys from those meetings, who told me that Fidelity Computing was looking for an accountant for a special project. He had stayed after the meeting and he and Art made a pot of coffee and sat down in front of Art’s Apple clone, a Franklin Ace 1200 that he’d scored six months ahead of its official release. After opening the lid to show Murf the interior, Art fired it up and put it through its paces.

I hovered over his shoulder, watching. I’d had a couple of chances to play with the 1200, and I wanted one more than anything in the world except for a girlfriend.

“Marty,” Art said, “Murf was telling me about a job I thought you might be good for.”

The Ace 1200 would have a list price of $2,200. I pulled up a chair.

Fidelity Computing’s business offices were attached to their warehouse, right next to their factory. It took up half of a business park in Colma, and I had to circle it twice to find a parking spot. I was five minutes late and flustered when I presented myself to the receptionist, a blond woman with a ten – years – out – of – date haircut and a modest cardigan over a sensible white shirt buttoned to the collar, ring on her finger.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Marty Hench. I—uh—I’ve got a meeting with the Reverend Sirs.” That was what the executive assistant I’d spoken to on the phone had called them. It sounded weird when he said it. It sounded weirder when I said it.

The receptionist gave me a smile that only went as far as her lips. “Please have a seat,” she said. There were only three chairs in the little reception area, vinyl office chairs with worn wooden armrests. There weren’t any magazines, just glossy catalogs featuring the latest Fidelity Computing systems, accessories, consumables, and software. I browsed one, marveling at the parallel universe of computers in the strange, mauve color that denoted all Fidelity equipment, including the boxes, packaging, and, now that I was attuned to it, the accents and carpet in the small lobby. A side door opened and a young, efficient man in a kippah and wire-rim glasses called for me: “Mr. Hench?” I closed the catalog and returned it to the pile and stood. As I went to shake his hand, I realized that something had been nagging me about the catalog—there were no prices.

“I’m Shlomo,” the man said. “We spoke on the phone. Thank you for coming down. The Reverend Sirs are ready to see you now.”

He wore plain black slacks, hard black shiny shoes, and a white shirt with prayer-shawl tassels poking out of its tails. I followed him through a vast room filled with chest-high Steelcase cubicles finished in yellowing, chipped wood veneer, every scratch pitilessly lit by harsh overhead fluorescents. Most of the workers at the cubicles were women with headsets, speaking in hushed tones. The tops of their heads marked the interfaith delineators: a block of Orthodox headscarves, then a block of nuns’ black and white scarves (I learned to call them “veils” later), then the Mormons’ carefully coiffed, mostly blond dos.

“This way,” Shlomo said, passing through another door and into executive row. The mauve carpets were newer, the nap all swept in one direction. The walls were lined with framed certificates of appreciation, letters from religious and public officials (apparently, the church and state were not separate within the walls of Fidelity Computing), photos of groups of progressively larger groups of people ranked before progressively larger offices—the company history.

We walked all the way to the end of the hall, past closed doors with nameplates, to a corner conference room with a glass wall down one side, showing a partial view of a truck-loading dock behind half-closed vertical blinds. Seated at intervals around a large conference table were the Reverend Sirs themselves, each with his own yellow pad, pencil, and coffee cup.

Shlomo announced me: “Reverend Sirs, this is Marty Hench. Mr. Hench, these are Rabbi Yisrael Finkel, Bishop Leonard Clarke, and Father Marek Tarnowski.” He backed out of the door, leaving me standing, unsure if I should circle the table shaking hands, or take a seat, or—

“Please, sit,” Rabbi Finkel said. He was fiftyish, round-faced and bear-shaped with graying sidelocks and beard and a black suit and tie. His eyes were sharp behind horn-rimmed glasses. He gestured to a chair at the foot of the table.

I sat, then rose a little to undo the button of my sport coat. I hadn’t worn it since my second job interview, when I realized it was making the interviewers uncomfortable. It certainly made me uncomfortable. I fished out the little steno pad and stick pen I’d brought with me.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Hench.” The rabbi had an orator’s voice, that big chest of his serving as a resonating chamber like a double bass.

“Of course,” I said. “Thanks for inviting me. It’s a fascinating company you have here.”

Bishop Clarke smiled at that. He was the best dressed of the three, in a well-cut business suit, his hair short, neat, side-parted. His smile was very white, and very wide. He was the youngest of the three—in his late thirties, I’d guess. “Thank you,” he said. “We know we’re very different from the other computer companies, and we like it that way. We like to think that we see something in computers—a potential—that other people have missed.”

Father Tarnowski scowled. He was cadaverously tall and thin, with the usual dog collar and jacket, and a heavy gold class ring. His half-rim glasses flashed. He was the oldest, maybe sixty, and had a sour look that I took for habitual. “He doesn’t want the press packet, Leonard,” he said. “Let’s get to the point.” He had a broad Chicago accent like a tough-guy gangster in The Untouchables.

Bishop Clarke’s smile blinked off and on for an instant and I was overcome with the sudden knowledge that these two men did not like each other at all, and that there was some kind of long-running argument simmering beneath the surface. “Thank you, Marek, of course. Mr. Hench’s time is valuable.” Father Tarnowski snorted softly at that and the bishop pretended he didn’t hear it, but I saw Rabbi Finkel grimace at his yellow pad.

“What can I help you Reverend Sirs with today?” Reverend Sirs came more easily now, didn’t feel ridiculous at all. The three of them gave the impression of being a quarter inch away from going for each other’s throats, and the formality was a way to keep tensions at a distance.

“We need a certain kind of accountant,” the rabbi said. He’d dated the top of his yellow pad and then circled the date. “A kind of accountant who understands the computer business. Who understands computers, on a technical level. It’s hard to find an accountant like that, believe it or not, even in Silicon Valley.” I didn’t point out that Colma wasn’t in Silicon Valley.

“Well,” I said, carefully. “I think I fit that bill. I’ve only got an associate’s degree in accounting, but I’m a kind of floating CFO for half a dozen companies and I’ve been doing night classes at UCSF Extension to get my bachelor’s. I did a year at MIT and built my own computer a few years back. I program pretty well in BASIC and Pascal and I’ve got a little C, and I’m a pretty darned good debugger, if I do say so myself.”

Bishop Clarke gave a small but audible sigh of relief. “You do indeed sound perfect, and I’m told that Shlomo spoke to your references and they were very enthusiastic about your diligence and . . . discretion.”

I’d given Shlomo a list of four clients I’d done extensive work with, but I hadn’t had “discretion” in mind when I selected them. It’s true that doing a company’s accounts made me privy to some sensitive information—like when two employees with the same job were getting paid very different salaries—but I got the feeling that wasn’t the kind of “discretion” the bishop had in mind.

“I’m pretty good at minding my own business,” I said, and then, “even when I’m being paid to mind someone else’s.” I liked that line, and made a mental note about it. Maybe someday I’d put it on my letterhead. Martin Hench: Confidential CPA.

The bishop favored me with a chuckle. The rabbi nodded thoughtfully. The priest scowled.

“That’s very good,” the bishop said. “What we’d like to discuss today is of a very sensitive nature, and I’m sure you’ll understand if we would like more than your good word to rely on.” He lifted his yellow pad, revealing a single page, grainily photocopied, and slid it over the table to me. “That’s our standard nondisclosure agreement,” he said. He slid a pen along to go with it.

I didn’t say anything. I’d signed a few NDAs, but only after I’d taken a contract. This was something different. I squinted at the page, which was a second- or third-generation copy and blurry in places. I started to read it. The bishop made a disgusted noise. I pretended I didn’t hear him.

I crossed out a few clauses and carefully lettered in an amendment. I initialed the changes and slid the paper back across the table to the bishop, and found the smile was gone from his face. All three of them were now giving me stern looks, wrath-of-God looks, the kind of looks that would make a twenty-one-year-old kid like me very nervous indeed. I felt the nerves rise and firmly pushed them down.

“Mr. Hench,” the bishop said, his tone low and serious, “is there some kind of problem?”

It pissed me off. I’d driven all the way to for-chrissakes Colma and these three weirdo God-botherers had ambushed me with their everything – and – the – kitchen – sink contract. I had plenty of work, and I didn’t need theirs, especially not if this was the way they wanted to deal. This had suddenly become a negotiation, and my old man had always told me the best negotiating position was a willingness to get up from the table. I was going to win this negotiation, one way or another.

“No problem,” I said.

“And yet you appear to have made alterations to our standard agreement.”

“I did,” I said. That’s not a problem for me, I didn’t say.

He gave me more of that stern eyeball-ray stuff. I let my negotiating leverage repel it. “Mr. Hench, our standard agreement can only be altered after review by our general counsel.”

“That sounds like a prudent policy,” I said, and met his stare.

He clucked his tongue. “I can get a fresh one,” he said. “This one is no good.”

I cocked my head. “I think it’d be better to get your general counsel, wouldn’t it?”

The three of them glared at me. I found I was enjoying myself. What’s more, I thought Rabbi Finkel might be suppressing a little smile, though the beard made it hard to tell.

“Let me see it,” he said, holding his hand out.

Bishop Clarke gave a minute shake of his head. The rabbi half rose, reached across the table, and slid it over to himself, holding it at arm’s length and adjusting his glasses. He picked up his pen and initialed next to my changes.

“Those should be fine,” he said, and slid it back to me. “Sign, please.”

“Yisrael,” Bishop Clarke said, an edge in his voice, “changes to the standard agreements need to be reviewed—”

“By our general counsel,” the rabbi finished, waving a dismissive gesture at him. “I know, I know. But these are fine. We should probably make the same changes to all our agreements. Meanwhile, we’ve all now had a demonstration that Mr. Hench is the kind of person who takes his promises seriously. Would you rather have someone who doesn’t read and signs his life away, or someone who makes sure he knows what he’s signing and agrees with it?”

Bishop Clarke’s smile came back, strained at the corners. “That’s an excellent point, Rabbi. Thank you for helping me understand your reasoning.” He collected the now-signed contract from me and tucked it back under his yellow pad.

“Now,” he said, “we can get down to the reason we asked you here today.”

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/09/the-reverend-sirs/#fidelity-computing/

[roughentumble]

just listened to the FoB we didnt start the fire cover. my big question: did anyone complaining about this cover ever, like. listen to the original song?

[pardonmydelays]

huh

[twilight-good-yall-dumb]

This is my formal plea to literally everyone that you STOP going out and buying tickets to Disney remakes and sequels. As someone who holds that studio very close to my heart for the magic they used to create, it genuinely blows my mind how they're still finding immense financial success with shitty reincarnations of their preexisting IP. Do people not understand? Hate alone will do nothing! The top people at Disney are suffocating their artists with corporate greed! The executives and the shareholders do not give a SHIT if people on letterboxd hate their movie. If it's making money in the box office, they will continue making garbage because it WORKS! Please get a fucking grip and support other animation studios or literally any new IP that Disney actually decides to take a chance on, because money speaks, and it's the only language these current money hungry cowards at Disney seem to understand! I know for a damn FACT Walt has been turning in his grave for the past ten to fifteen years and it makes the prior Disney obsessed child in me SICK!!!

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I've been looking for this one au where Len basically becomes a mad scientist and turns his friends into robots one by one for a while now, and I'm beginning to realize that I just read through your blog while half asleep a few months back and mixed together my memories of your flower hivemind and composite au

this is very funny to me. i'm absolutely honored this blog's posts were enough to evil-farming-game an entire vocaloid au into your memories 😂

i can give you this doodle; it's composite au but i'm sure it'd fit very well with this theoretical mad scientist len au lololl

[orcelito]

Man I really hadn't gotten as far in the manga as I thought. I just finished ep 267 of shippuden and it's gearing up for the Gaara vs his dad fight, which I remember being where I dropped off in the manga. Bc I'd been keeping up with new chapters for a while, but with all the war talk... idk it just didn't capture 14 year old me that much. So I stopped keeping up.

Now, though. I find all the war tactics interesting hfkshdk it has me wanting to play a fire emblem game again. Hmmmmmm

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

imo everyone on earth should be talking about Him (don't want this showing up in the tag even though it's not a diss) but everytime i go to the tag and there's only like 3 new posts i'm like. oh yeah almost no one cares except me and like 5 other ppl on here

i ran out of tags KFHSJENNXN i don't think that's literally ever happened to me before anyways don't read them because it's just me being insane as per usual

[no1ryomafan]

Yknow I’m generally someone who could be deemed a outsider because I don’t get involved in a lot of things especially when it comes to unnecessary discourse because even if I have a opinion I usually keep it to myself because for me it’s less worth to get involved in certain debates unless I’m really feeling like choosing violence that day but if there’s one debate where it’ll be two sides fighting and I’m just standing aside like “yep this sure is something” it’s fucking sub v dub debated because I’m the anomaly who watches either like it’s no problem and so many anime fans would find me weird for that- if they didn’t already think it was weird I didn’t care for mainstream stuff.

[radio-4-is-static]

WONDER BOY'S AKUMU CLUB - Yojiro Noda

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪  lover !!

ᝰ.ᐟ even if he doesn't exude this energy to outsiders, you're happy to know that your boyfriend is the biggest simp around when it comes to you. or: the cute things he'll do for you.  (fem!reader)

featuring yoichi isagi, seishiro nagi, reo mikage, rin itoshi, rensuke kunigami content contains hotel bathroom sinks designed by a man, slight jealousy (reo is the jealous boyfriend), height differences (nagi + kunigami + rin are described as taller), wearing his clothes + clothes is described to be oversized on you (nagi), called a simp by his teammates (kunigami), clingy bf (yoichi <3) author's notes hq version coming soon!!! i just wanted to write something soft n fluffy for once <3

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — goes viral on tiktok when the two of you go on vacation to celebrate your second year anniversary. you're recording yourself from the bathroom of the private villa he rented out for the two of you, and you originally wanted to record what an absolute joke the sink is. there is literally no counter space. nowhere to place any of your makeup or skincare products. yoichi interupts the video unknowingly, knocking softly and asking if he can come in. he doesn't realize you're filming, and it's entirely genuine when he asks, "is everything okay? you sounded frustrated? did you need help opening something?" you laugh before explaining the situation, and he's silent for all but one second before he goes, "oh! i'll just hold your makeup bag, and i'll hand you the stuff when you need it." (poor yoichi means well, but he's standing there for over an hour as you laugh at him when he can't tell the difference between a tube of lipgloss and liquid blush. the look of concentration on his face as he nods intently while you explain what each product is for is absolutely adorable; it's the same concentrated look he gets when he's reviewing game footage, meaning he's taking this seriously for you.) he's also the type that loves to follow you around. it's a common joke for his fans to comment "walk him like a dog, sis!" on any candid photos of you + yoichi because he is almost always holding your hand while trailing behind you. he's like your shadow as he follows you around different stores in the mall, and even when you tell him he can just sit down with the other boyfriends while you just try on some clothes, he refuses to leave your side. tries to follow you to the dressing room, and gets all pouty when he realizes he's not allowed in. makes you walk outside the dressing room with the new outfits on so he can rate them (he is incredibly biased and believes everything looks good on you and forces you to bring everything to the cashier so he can swipe his card to get it for you <3)

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — cannot handle anyone else taking up large chunks of your time, especially when he rarely gets to see you during game season. makes a face anytime he realizes that the server at the restaurant is a guy. the server will smile at you and tell you that he'll get started on that meal for you right away, and reo leans forward once he's gone and goes, "i can't believe he was flirting with you right in front of me! disgusting!" he's actually convinced that every man in the world wants you for themselves, and if you tease him by threatening to run off with any of these men, he'll instantly frown and start telling you to take that back right now! however, he is entirely convinced that you are the greatest thing to ever grace this earth, and he feels so proud whenever you two are out in public and a fan or an employee compliments you. they could say anything postive about you, and he'll beam with pride, going "i know, right? i tell her this all the time!" it's almost common knowledge that the easiest way to get on reo's good side is to treat you well. he also loves listening to you gossip, and is the type of boyfriend who loves all your friends (even if he can't quite remember their names; it's only important that they treat you kindly and loyally), and hates everyone that you hate. he's also less forgiving than you; if someone backstabs you but you forgive them and grant them a second chance, just know that reo still hates their guts and he'll make it incredibly obvious.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — can’t help but make video game versions of the two of you any chance he gets. he’ll pretend to not notice the way your eyes light up when you pass by any claw machine containing plushies of your favorite anime characters, but somehow he’ll manage to find himself at the machine, casually winning you your favorite as if the game isn’t designed to make everyone lose. (he’s just that good.) even if you’re not as big of a gamer as him, he’ll watch you play sims 4 (and subsequently watch you spend 3 hours on the create-a-sim section because you’re trying to create a perfect carbon copy of the two of you.) looks for his favorite hoodie only to glance over at your still-sleeping form on his bed and realizes that you’re wearing it. you look adorable in it; he’s taller than you, bigger in every aspect, so the material swallows you up. (he doesn’t wake you up nor does he ask for it back.) despite the fact that he’s taller than you, nagi is definitely a big baby, and is constantly the little spoon. he loves to come home and bury his face in your neck, loves the way you gently run your fingers through his hair (it’s the easiest way for him to fall asleep), and he’ll constantly try to find ways for you to hold him.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — grants you “scary dog privilege.” literally will mean mug every man in the street as the two of you are walking together. everyone thinks that rin would be a selfish lover from his outside appearance, but he surprisingly puts up with a lot of your antics because he loves you so much. you don’t bother buying a step stool because you count on rin to get you anything you need from the tall shelves (and when you’re mad at him, he’ll purposely find ways to get all your most-used items on a hard-to-reach area so you have to sulkily seek him out and ask for his help. there’s no way in hell you put your face wash on top of the fridge, and rin looks all too happy to grab it for you.) he has a very bare social media account and most of the time, he just posts whatever his publicists draft up for him. the only post he has personally created and shared himself is the one of you on your birthday; in a sea of promotional posters and professionally taken game highlights, the smiling faces of you and rin stand out. (it’s the happiest any of his fans have ever seen him look.)

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — his teammates make fun of him because he is notoriously loyal to you. they tricked him and took him out to a strip club, and there’s a viral video of kunigami staring intently at his phone, never looking up once at his surroundings. (he was going through your instagram feed + then ran out of photos to look at, so he started going through his camera roll to look at pictures and videos of you.) is the boyfriend who embodies the phrase ‘wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight.’ there’s a photo of you two that did numbers on pinterest. kunigmai is such a big guy, towers over you, honestly, but he readily gets down on his knees for you. in the photo, you two are dressed up to attend a gala. he’s on his knees, and you have one high-heel clad foot resting on the top of his thigh as he looks down and is adjusting the ankle strap of your heel for you. his friends shared the photo in the team groupchat and called him a simp, but kunigami knows that if they had someone half as great as you, they’d act just the same.

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[jongace]

jongdae…………………………

[deadsetobsessions]

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*

[wilwheaton]

Hey man, I could use a few talking points to help convince a friend that Musk is horrible. I'm reading 'Think Again' by Adam Grant (good read btws) and he says to help convince people to come to your viewpoint that it can be good to have 2 or 3 strong points instead of 10 mixed points. The counter argument I get from people about Musk being good is that he did spacex and tesla, and without him we'd be decades behind. Maybe, but I don't have good ammo. Please help as I get too angry tobe critical

Well, listen, the fascism, the transphobia, the chaos, and the unwavering support for autocrats all over the planet really ought to be enough to outweigh anything else, if you ask me. It sounds like you know some people who got excited about the companies he threw money at, and they are having a tough time updating their feelings due to current events. Or maybe they share his values and don't want to admit that.

But I'll try to offer some simple facts.

He did not do engineering with Tesla or SpaceX or even PayPal. He is a fraud. He walked into these existing businesses, where people had done actual work and engineering, threw some of his Apartheid money at them, and took credit for their work. He claims, over and over again, to be a founder of these companies, and that's just straight up a lie that is easily disproved.

He literally did nothing except throw money at people and take credit for their work. Look at every Tesla up to the (chokes back laughter) Cybertruck. Those Teslas look like cars, because they were designed by engineers. Look at the Cybertruck. When you stop laughing at what a joke it is, know this: that's what happens when Elon Musk is in charge. It's like a ten year-old with some crayons drew it on a menu at Denny's.

All of the things his weird fans claim he made possible, are things that would have happened, and were in the process of happening, without him. He literally did nothing to advance the technologies or engineering. In fact, SpaceX whistleblowers have told reporters how they had to keep Musk occupied with bullshit, so they could do the real work without him fucking it up all the time with his incompetence.

But even if he were telling the truth, even if the myth were fact, it would not outweigh the damage, the pain, the chaos, and the suffering he has inflicted on millions and millions of people, all over the world with his lies, his spread of misinformation, and his incitement of angry incels.

Also, don't forget, when Ukraine was trying to defend itself, he turned off Starlink access when they could have decisively ended Russia's aggression. A lot of people have suffered and died as a direct consequence of that action, which he took to support his buddy and fellow autocrat, Vladimir Putin.

That's more information than I think your friends will be willing to hear. Studies indicate that people who are heavily invested in the myth of a person will fight hard to hold onto the myth, and reject truth and facts, because it's so jarring to them. Musk has built a cult of personality, and maybe your friends are stuck to it.

I'd gently encourage your friends to consider one key fact: he has lied about his entire origin story, he has lied about his contributions to Tesla and SpaceX. He lies about everything, except when he posts on Twitter like a 12 year-old edgelord, because that's who he is, emotionally.

Finally, and this is for you, specifically: if your friends insist on supporting a fascist, a racist, a misogynist, or a bigot, because they think rockets are cool, maybe it's time to look for new friends.

I hope this helps.

And fuck Elon Musk.