#now THAT'S stimulating the economy!

[arctic-hands]

Imagine how stimulated the American economy would be if people actually had the money to buy things instead of having just barely or not even enough to pay for basic shelter and food

And if the billionaires paid taxes and actually spent their money instead of keeping it in (Swiss/off shore) bank accounts just so they can have the status of having billions of dollars in the bank

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

all the things i wanna say here:

1. projector screens cant possibly be the best way for these sweet old cartoons to get around, right? like, those things are dangerous and require a LOT of jumping, right? must be hard on their little worn out cartoon knees

2. they certainly weren’t prescott’s idea

3. everyone loves prescott so much but look. he is scary to ask things from

dog man: prescott, can you do me a favor? prescott: yes dog man: WILL you? prescott: smart man. sure, though; what's wrong?

dog man: i need a few cups of paint, uh,, can you run down to the emporium and pick some up for me?

prescott: why can't you go yourself?

dog man: oh, uh, well, i'm old, and, y'know, projector screens are pretty exhausting...

prescott: you're right and you should say it

prescott: i'll run down there this evening. is that good? dog man: mhm

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

got vaguely inspired tonight w/ a new fic idea and unfortunately for me I cannot put Bowser and Mario (and Peach) in the same room getting along without some sort of crisis happening, for some reason

[vanillaboyfriend]

ok my nick edit. that ive been mentioning for months. it's at a point where technically i could post it and it'd still be good, or i could keep working on it until it is truly pussy popping. what do you think

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[unionizedwizard]

ok so i've been thinking about ffxiv housing. the in-universe explanation for the housing districts is that the city-states want to attract adventurers because they are a valuable demographics, in terms of spending power, social networks, and martial power. this makes sense, especially in the wake of the calamity; the states have all been considerably weakened and currying favor with (otherwise mercenary) powerful individuals in hopes of stimulating the economy and protecting their own citizenry and property is a rather sound prospect.

this makes even more sense for limsa lominsa in particular, considering merlwyb was the one behind costa del sol - the land being unfit for cultivation, she sold it to gegeruju who turned it into a luxury resort (and kicked out the locals who are now forced to resort to poaching! yay), and was behind the island sanctuary project. she wants to be an economic power using tourism as a means for colonization sooooo badly

it makes sense for ishgard, too - considerably weakened by their own war and isolationism, similarly unable to push for self-sufficiency (considering the environmental disaster that was the calamity for coerthas), they have (imo) correctly identified that one of their avenues for development lies in the brokering of trade agreements and tourism development (ishgard has a unique and strong cultural identity and beautiful vistas that make for a sound touristic opportunity).

it also makes sense for kugane to have a housing district - kugane being the only place that's open to foreigners, and catering quite extensively (not to mention expensively) to tourists' tastes, and being practically the only trade point between hingashi and the rest of the world.

that being said, the game itself acknowledges how unfair this system is, since unlocking access to every housing district involves you watching some poor local citizen's hopes of homeownership getting brutally dashed by the "foreigners/adventurers-only" policy. (except for ishgard, since there is another citizens-only housing district?)

that's very obviously a case of gentrification (textbook definition even). worse, the sprawling suburban hellscape, literal-gated-community-full-of-gaudy-mcmansions that is the housing district is an inefficient use of land + very resource-intensive + creates an entire domestic service economy (labor-intensive to maintain). in other words, the opposite of a community & incredibly alienating to the people living there!!

you CAN'T create this kind of dynamic in the crystarium (first of all there's no room and most importantly the entire concept is that they're a communist city). you can't recreate the kind of exploitative class dynamics they had in EULMORE in there!!!!! that makes no sense!!

now it would make sense in eulmore but the resource availability in the First is still limited, i would say, not to mention it would be an extremely scummy move lmao

as for sharlayan, the same applies; theyre not communist at all (lol) but they would not benefit from tourism or creating this kind of class at all, and anyway they already manage their (limited) (island) land scarily extensively and i don't see how or why or where a housing district could be located anyway (and can you imagine the paperwork??)

now obviously the actual option for a new housing district would be mare lamentorum. it was quite literally made for that. no idea if they will ever go through with it but it would make sense and be physically possible, i think

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

He’s a f—king madman who has no idea what he’s doing or what kind of harm he’s going to cause. Coffee prices will soar and it won’t’t just be Columbian coffee because it will create a greater demand for coffee from other nations. Then you can expect all the importers and retailers to price gouge on top of that. Pressed flowers will become unaffordable as well. Then gas prices will rise because their cheap crude oil will suddenly cost 25% more and again everyone else in the business will see increased demand and raise their prices and price gouge on top of that. Worse, he’s threatening to Jack the tariffs up to 50% for countries that won’t now to his demands.

Tariffs are meant to be used sparingly to stimulate domestic industry instead of relying on foreign producers. They were never intended to be used across the board on every item from a country. The foreign producers aren’t going to absorb a 25% loss in revenue, that’s never happened and likely never will. Prices for American consumers will rise by 25% plus inconvenience fees and price gouging.

Tariffs aren’t a weapon if you think they are you’re just shooting your own citizens in the foot. This is pretty basic stuff. Most people learned this when studying early American history in elementary school. American leaders in the post-revolutionary years imposed tariffs on European manufactured goods such as tools, guns, furniture, machines, etc to end reliance on imported goods while stimulating American manufacturing and turning us into an exporting nation.

Trump’s sole college degree is a bachelor’s in economics. This dumb ass should know how this works. He the densest mother f—ker alive and is completely incapable of being taught anything. Further he’s suffering cognitive decline due to mental illness and is a raging drug addict on top of that. Coke as an upper and Adderall to come down. His shadow president, Elon Musk, ironically only has a bachelor’s degree as well and surprise it’s also in economics. He should know better but also is suffering from mental illness and the consumption of mass quantities of Ketamine. Two moronic drug addicts.

The Republicants who should be advising Trump aren’t the best and brightest either. Nearly all of them haven’t gone beyond a bachelor’s degree and they certainly didn’t major in anything that would be useful in managing a large country with the largest economy on the planet. They are trying to run a government based on sound bites and talking points they picked up from the uneducated hosts of Fox News and Fox Business.

Once countries get burned by Trump’s tariffs they will seek out trading partners in Russia, Asia, the Middle East, and Africa. Once a trading partner leaves they almost never return. We’ll be forced to seek out more expensive trading partners who will be very cautious dealing with an unreliable USA. Further Columbia will stop cooperating and sharing intelligence in the war against the narco terrorists. Politically all these nations Trump alienates will realign their political goals with BRICS which is growing as an alternative trade and policy for nations not aligned with the Western and first world states. This is an economic and foreign policy disaster that will ripple through the world for decades to come. Trump isn’t just going to crash our economy but likely cause a worldwide depression, or at least recession. When the US catches a cold the rest of the world sneezes.

THIS IS NOT NORMAL AND ITS NOT EVEN RATIONAL.

[evermoredeluxe]

“The only thing I keep coming back to with all this, because it’s great and Travis Kielce is a legitimate athlete that could’ve probably had success in a bunch of different sports at a high level, is how difficult it is to register on the Richter scale on the house that he's now a part of with Taylor Swift, where it's like “Babe, what did you do this weekend?” “Well, I stimulated the global economy, I went to a new city and enriched the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. Babe, what did you do?” “I cracked 11 dingers in a celebrity softball game. Feeling pretty great about this one, babe. Thanks for asking.”

- Travis replying to Taypraise as always (Jun 10, 2024) (x)

[warabidakihime]

Rules and Roses Chapter 2

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic). 

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n:

hello!!!

first of all, i am so sorry for taking so long to update this story. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

life happened and i got sooo busy. the time i uploaded this fic was when i just started at my new workplace and shortly after a few weeks, i was already preoccupied with work. at first, i was laser-focused on getting used to my new work and the culture. then later on, i found myself playing a more important role in the office that required my undivided attention lol. besides that, so many things happened in my personal life as well that i didn't have the time and energy to write.

btw i'm now a writer by profession as well so oftentimes i would feel drained af after writing corporate write-ups. tbh, i also got hit by writer's block, especially for this fic because the plot i have in mind for it is lowkey intricate, and for the most part, i haven't decided on what route i should take story-wise. so during those 2 years, i was constantly trying to reconstruct the story in my head, and here we are!

i'm back but i'm not so sure about updating regularly as i'm still incredibly busy, but i will do my best! the latest kny seasons inspired me to write again (aka my crush for muzan lol).

hopefully, everyone is still here to read this. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

happy reading!

-

"Can you outline your key policy platforms should you be elected President of Phario? Given your extensive background in the human resource industry as well as your rich connections owing to your business ventures in Obelisk Kibutsuji, do you first plan to address the pressing issue of the national unemployment rate?"

"Indeed, that's correct. As President, one of my top priorities will be to strengthen our nation's workforce, which is crucial for advancing our economy. I have a comprehensive plan focused on job creation, vocational training, and support for small businesses. These initiatives will not only reduce unemployment but also stimulate innovation and competitiveness within our economy.

I also aim to implement policies that ensure equal access to education, equipping our citizens with the skills needed for the evolving job market. Healthcare reform is high on my agenda. I'll ensure healthcare assistance is accessible to everyone, public hospitals are well-maintained, and healthcare workers are fairly compensated and protected by the state in any dire situations. Additionally, I'll push for technological advancements and infrastructure development to attract both local and foreign investments.

Addressing social issues is equally important, and as a devoted ally of these communities, I'm committed to fighting all forms of discrimination, especially against women and the LGBTQ+ community. We must ensure everyone, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or identity, has equal opportunities and protections under the law.

Moreover, I'll advocate for the rights and welfare of people with disabilities, ensuring they have access to the necessary resources and support to lead fulfilling lives. This includes improving accessibility in public spaces and promoting inclusive employment practices.

Animal welfare will also be a significant focus. We need to enact and enforce laws that protect animals from abuse and ensure humane treatment.

Lastly, I'll champion the rights of minorities and immigrants. Our nation is built on the strength of its diversity, and it's imperative we create an inclusive society where everyone feels valued and respected. This includes reforming immigration policies to be fair and humane and implementing programs that support the integration and empowerment of minority communities.

In essence, my administration will be dedicated to creating a sustainable and inclusive economic environment where every Pharian has the opportunity to thrive and contribute to our nation's progress."

Muzan stood confidently at the podium, a modest yet proud smile gracing his face after addressing a journalist's question amidst a room bustling with media personnel.

Today was the day where presidential candidates shared their platforms, which also served as an open forum for engaging with the press and fielding inquiries on a wide array of topics—from current events to personal matters.

With his seasoned composure before cameras and crowds, Muzan navigated the spotlight effortlessly. His articulate delivery drew admiration from all corners as he outlined his plans for the presidency, filling you with pride as you watched from the audience.

Among the attendees, your smile beamed with pride and unconditional support for him. Akaza, who is sitting right beside you, maintained a stoic demeanor outwardly, though inwardly, he couldn't deny a hint of impressed regard. Muzan's comprehensive platform and commanding presence left an undeniable impact on him.

Eloquence had always been Muzan's forte, a skill honed through years of being a businessman and somewhat of a public figure, as among his peers and in the business landscape in general, he is well-revered and widely celebrated.

Beyond his ability to articulate ideas, he possessed a magnetic charisma—an invaluable trait for navigating the intricate world of politics and public service.

Several hours later, the policy speech slash press conference finally ended, and now you were on your way to meet up with Muzan at the lobby of the hotel where the gathering was held when a few journalists spotted you among the sea of people who were also exiting the function room.

Akaza was right behind you and is also on full alert, an important instruction your husband told him when he appointed him as your personal bodyguard a few years back. Committed to his duty, he stood there in a stance where he is ready to take action should anything happen that is out of the ordinary.

Mics were stretched out and placed within just a few inches of your face, and one of them took the liberty to ask you a question: "What are your thoughts on Kibutsuji Muzan's campaign platforms?” 

Very much like your husband, you also wore a modest yet confident smile on your face as you held eye contact with the journalist who asked you that question before displaying your own version of eloquence as you answered,

"To say that I am proud while listening to him share and advocate for the causes he wholeheartedly believed in would be the biggest understatement of the decade," you said with a fond chuckle before continuing, "even before he filed for his candidacy and even way before he became the man we all know now, he has always been outspoken about these things. He would always share with me his desire of making significant changes in the world, hoping no more children would have to endure what he did. As many of you know, Muzan, my dear husband, came from very humble beginnings, and unlike me, he has faced challenges far beyond my own. His vision and intuition surpass that of most, and so, as cliché as it may sound, his words and strong convictions carry a weight and authenticity that are strong enough to enable him in doing the impossible and inspire others to believe that a better future is within our grasp."

Akaza listened intently to your answer, finding himself captivated by your words. The way you addressed the press made you sound like a candidate yourself who's also sharing her platform. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of pride as he continued to absorb your statements.

The journalists surrounding you mirrored his sentiment, clearly impressed by your response—no surprise from the esteemed Ballerina Queen of Phario.

It had been quite some time since you last entertained interviews, having retired and chosen to stay away from public engagements.

"Among the plethora of initiatives he wishes to take action on once he's elected, what resonated with you the most?"

You paused, contemplating the list of campaigns your husband had presented earlier. Just as you were about to respond, an arm encircled your waist and gave it a tender squeeze.

It was Muzan.

"Knowing my wife's love for animals, I'm certain she's most excited about what I have planned for animal welfare," Muzan interjected warmly.

You playfully rolled your eyes, eliciting amusement from not only your husband and your respective bodyguards but also the press. "You say that as if it's a bad thing," you quipped.

Muzan chuckled fondly. "Not at all, my love. Your passion for animals is one of the many reasons I fell for you."

The same journalist who had asked you the second question now directed his attention to Muzan, eager for his response. "Based on the most recent public survey, you're likely the most favored candidate to win the elections. What can you say about that, Sir Kibutsuji?"

Muzan smiled bashfully at the reporter, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and determination. "I'm incredibly honored and thankful that our fellow countrymen have placed such faith and confidence in me. It's a humbling reminder of the trust they have in our vision for a brighter future. This campaign has always been about bringing real change to Phario, addressing the pressing issues our nation faces with innovative solutions and inclusive policies. The support we're seeing reflects not just my efforts, but the collective desire of our people for progress and unity."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the room, before continuing with renewed conviction, "Though I would like to emphasize that I don't take this trust lightly, it actually fuels my commitment to serve with integrity and purpose, to listen to the voices of every Pharian, and to lead with compassion and foresight."

By now, the press was highly satisfied with the answers both of you had given, granting you the freedom to depart. Clearly spent after the eventful day, you exchanged farewells and well-wishes before going your separate ways.

With Muzan's arm still draped around your waist, he guided you towards the grand entrance of the hotel. Meanwhile, Akaza made his way to the basement parking lot to retrieve your car, preparing to drive you both home. Kokushibo remained close to Muzan, ensuring your security as you awaited the car's arrival.

Turning to Muzan, unfazed by the bustling activity around you, you placed a tender kiss on his lips, smiling warmly. "Great job out there, my love. You did so well today. I'm incredibly proud of you."

Clearly elated, Muzan mirrored your smile and returned your affection with a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Thank you, darling. Your support means everything to me."

"Truly, I was beaming throughout your speech. You were absolutely amazing. Phario is fortunate to have such an admirable leader like you," you praised sincerely.

Right there and then, Muzan couldn't help but raise his eyebrow and playfully smile at you, prompting a confused raise of your own eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" you asked.

Muzan shook his head with a playful smirk before replying, "You're not showing favoritism now, are you, my love? I know you adore me, but let's keep it fair, hmm?" he teased, his tone light-hearted and affectionate.

You rolled your eyes at his playful accusation. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Muzan. I'll take it back, then."

Muzan laughed wholeheartedly, drawing attention once again. "I was just joking!" He then smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting pride. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Hearing that from you means more than any applause, you know?"

You reached out to pinch his cheeks. "You play too much sometimes, you know?" you said with a chuckle before continuing, "But like I said, hearing you speak today—and in all those times you shared your aspirations with me from when we were students up to now, as you finally have the opportunity to make all come true—it's evident how deeply committed you are. Beyond your skills and capabilities, your passion is what makes you so compelling, Muzan. It's what makes me believe in you, too."

Minutes later, while waiting by the entrance, Akaza finally pulled up with the car. You and Muzan bid farewell to those around you before stepping into the comfort of your vehicle.

As the city lights blurred past the windows, you reflected on the day's events.

"You know," you began, glancing at Muzan beside you, "I have a feeling your speech today touched more hearts than just mine."

Muzan smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

"I hope so. Though the election is still months away, and who knows how things might shift, that's why I don't want to take any of this for granted. I'm in this for the long haul. You'll be there with me, won't you?"

He looked over to you, and in that moment, despite his big words, he looked absolutely adorable, with his ruby eyes shining at you and his lips slightly pouty as he waited for your response, which you gladly provided through the means of placing yet another sweet and passionate kiss on his lips and squeezing his hand reassuringly. 

"I'll always be here for you, Muzan, through every challenge and triumph."

"I love you," he whispered lovingly, his expression sincere and heartfelt.

"And I love you," you replied with equal affection.

With a comforting squeeze of your hand, you nestled against Muzan's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment as the car navigated through familiar streets towards home.

Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Akaza's face remained unreadable. He was outwardly indifferent to the tender exchange between you and Muzan, but inwardly, he was seething with rage.

You think you're so clever, spouting all those promises and pretty words, playing the saint for the public eye. But I see through you. You're nothing but a manipulative snake, a liar wrapped in a facade of righteousness.

His gaze hardened and his grip on the wheel tightened as he stared ahead, the streetlights casting shadows on his determined expression.

One day, your mask will slip. 

I will fucking rip it off your face, even if it's the last thing I do.

[queen-mihai]

We only need a few rich people

And we need zero billionaires

The "need" in society to have rich people running around is mostly for entertainment value.

Let's say someone who earns $20 million a year due to some really popular product she invented and maybe some smart investments.

This person will never be a billionaire

BUT she will be a fun person to have around on some dumb TV show

"Oh yeah I bought myself a second yacht this year 😅. They're kind of a guilty pleasure of mine so I thought I'd splurge"

She's not rich enough to get around paying her taxes, which means she's probably giving 10-15 million a year or more straight to the government as taxes.

Now, she's paying the people who build the yacht, keeping them in business. They hire tradespeople and artists to make her ship nice, and those people go on to further stimulate the economy by spending the paychecks they earned building her yacht

She buys houses, clothes, cars, puts her kids through expensive classes, and sets aside a little nest egg so she can retire in comfort and her kids can go to school

That's not so bad. She's probably on TV shows talking about how fun it is being rich and everything. Maybe she gives some money to charity and people kinda wanna be like her.

You know what we don't need?

Someone rich enough to, instead of buying a car, buys the entire car manufacturer

We don't need someone who has enough money to stop paying their taxes and then pretend they still do.

We don't need someone who can spend a million dollars in a day and have it replaced that same day.

Spending money SHOULD hurt. Or make you feel SOMETHING.

If you're collecting money so goddamn fast that you literally can't spend it fast enough to ever see your bank account go down, we don't fucking need you.

If you're collecting that much money, your bank account should just be a wide open door where people can rob you all they want because you won't even notice anyway.

Are you a billionaire reading this? Give me ten million dollars and I'll think about shutting up. I won't, but I'll think about it.

You're gonna have to give ten million to every other person reading this though cuz they're probably not gonna shut up either.

You know what? Actually it'd probably just be easier to PAY YOUR DAMN TAXES. That would get a lot of us to shut up.

Try it. You might like it

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

imagine if the Decepticons crashed into Radiator Springs in Cars (2006) instead of Lightning

Sally: so yeah our town has been dead for years and no one has bought anything from our stores in a long time-

Megatron: STARSCREAM!

Starscream: YES LORD MEGATRON!

Megatron: Order the rest of the Decepticons to stimulate Radiator Spring's economy AT ONCE!

Starscream: ...Master are you sure-

Megatron: NOW STARSCREAM!

Starscream: Y-YES LORD MEGATRON!

and the Decepticons buy a bunch of stuff from Radiator Springs, and they actually like it (except for Starscream)

also Soundwave becomes friends with Red lmao

[daisynik7]

if your karaoke event is still open i’d like to request glamorous by fergie with sugar daddy!nanami - fluff and smut, maybe some mile high inspired by “We flyin' the first class, up in the sky” thanks!

Glamorous

We flyin' the first class up in the sky

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.4k

cw: established relationship, smut - semi-public sex, vaginal sex (cowgirl position), dry humping, clitoral stimulation, pet names, slight daddy kink

Summary: Your sugar daddy takes you halfway across the world in first class, so naturally, things get a little naughty. 

Author’s Note: Love love love sugar daddy!Nanami and this is such a classic for the y2k karaoke party. Thanks for the request and I hope you like this! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune (as always).

You make it very obvious that you’ve never been in first-class before. As Nanami holds your hand, leading you down the aisle, you audibly gasp at how large the seats are, and how there are actually barriers for privacy. You’ve only ever seen this on Youtube or Instagram, never in real life. And now, you’re here, about to experience it for yourself! It’s crazy how your life has taken a drastic turn in just a few short months. 

Nanami was your first customer at the bakery you opened in the beginning of the year. He ordered two croissants, one plain and the other almond. He sat at a table, savoring each bite slowly. When he was done, he approached you, complimenting your pastry skills. You noticed flaky crumbs scattered on his tie as he was turning to leave, and without thinking properly, you tugged on it, pulling him towards you, patting at his chest with heat surrounding your cheeks. In that moment, the both of you were already smitten with each other. It took a month for you to figure out how well-off he is. It wasn’t because he was hiding it or anything; it just never mattered much to either of you. When you put the pieces together, sure, you were surprised. But even before that, you were falling fast for him. This extra bit is just an added bonus. 

The flight attendant directs you to your assigned section all the way towards the back of the plane, somewhat secluded from the other passengers. You settle into the seat by the window, appreciating how comfortable it is compared to all the other regular economy class you’ve sat in. The excitement must be showing on your face because Nanami lets out a small laugh, watching you with an amused smile on his face. “Having fun?”

You grin at him. “Maybe a little too much.”

He holds your hand, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. “Well, keep enjoying it, my love. It’s going to be a long flight. Thank you again for accompanying me on this business trip. Are you sure the bakery will be okay?”

You wave him off. “It’s in great hands, so don’t worry about it at all. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

“Me too,” he says, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. He lingers for longer than you expect, then brushes past your cheek to whisper in your ear, “Can’t wait to get you on top of me.”

You tap on his chest playfully, heat surrounding your face, flustered. “Kento, we’re in public.”

He tips his head to the side. “And…?”

“We can’t do it here. Not when there’s people around.”

He reaches for the door, sliding it shut. If you didn’t already know that you were amongst others, it truly does seem like you have your own private space. “Is this better?” he asks.

You roll your eyes at him despite the fluttering in your belly, thrilled about the possibilities. “Behave yourself.”

He plants a smooch on your cheek, acting innocently. “Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

~~~

More than thirty thousand feet up in the air, four hours into the flight, and the best airplane food you’ve ever had in your life properly digested, you and Nanami are ready for bed. All the cabin lights are dimmed low and the flight attendants check in one last time before wishing you goodnight. Your boyfriend closes the door quietly then reclines his seat halfway, resting his palms behind his head. He glances at you, smirking as he closes his eyes completely shut. “Well, goodnight.”

You study him silently, wondering if you should jump on this opportunity to do something naughty or if you should just go to sleep, like a good girl. He peeks at you with one eye, catching your gaze. “Something on your mind?” he asks, as if he already knows the answer. 

You shrug, unsure how to bring it up without eating your words from earlier. Luckily, he doesn’t make you. He beckons you over, patting his lap, voice low and sultry. “Come here.”

Worried that everyone on the outside of your pod will become aware of the nefarious deed you’re about to commit, you move quietly, stripping down to your underwear before you straddle him, arms linked behind his neck. He stares up at you, a pleased expression on his face, expecting this. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.” 

So maybe he makes you eat your words just a tad bit.

You bite your lip, holding back whimpers as you grind on him, feeling his cock starting to harden after a few strokes back and forth. His grip is firm on your hips, barely guiding you, letting you be in control. He reaches towards you, pressing his thumb to your clothed clit, relishing the wet spot beginning to leak through the fabric of your panties. A moan escapes you, leading to him cover your mouth with his palm, chuckling. “Honey, you have to promise to be quiet, okay? I know how loud you can get.”

You nod. “I’ll be quiet, I promise,” you whisper against his skin. 

He smiles, fingers at your chin, thumb grazing the outline of your lips. “Good girl. Now make yourself come before I give you this cock.” 

Remaining still, he lets you dry hump him slowly, savoring it with his grip still firm on your hips. His breathing wavers, trying to maintain his composure, gradually unraveling from the anticipation of soon being buried in your wet cunt. As soon as you reach your first orgasm, panties soaked with your arousal, he shrugs his bottoms off just enough to free his stiff cock, glistening with precum at the tip. He reaches for the bag beside him, retrieving a bottle of lube from one of the pockets, squirting it onto his palm to coat his cock with it. His eyes never leave yours, licking his lips like he’s salivating.

You lift off your knees, trying to remove your underwear, but he brings you back to him, rutting his shaft against the dampness of your panties. “Don’t. I want you like this.” He hooks the fabric to the side, tapping his wetted tip at your clit before sliding his entire length inside you. You cling to him tighter, nestling your face into his shoulder, holding back your moans. 

He begins thrusting up into you while he bounces you on his dick, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Fuck,” he mutters, brows tight with concentration. One hand glides to your ass cheek, squeezing it. For a brief moment, it hovers over your skin, and before you can convince not to do it, he slaps your ass, the smack surely loud enough for any of your neighbors to her. 

You hiss his name, heat engulfing your entire body now. “Kento!” All he does is laugh, kissing you sloppily to prevent you from scolding him any further. 

The seat beneath you starts creaking noisily when Nanami picks up the pace, fucking you feverishly, sweat beading from his forehead. You gain a second wind, riding him deep as he plays with your clit once more, rubbing it between his fingers. “Fuck, daddy,” you whine, grinding on him, cunt squeezing around him as you approach your second orgasm.

“That’s it, princess. Come for me. Make a fucking mess for daddy,” he growls, thrusting faster, harder, fingers squelching lewdly on your swollen bud. You come for him, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss each other passionately. He comes shortly after, shooting his hot load inside you, filling you up with his cream pie. 

Before you can relax in each other’s arms as you normally would post-sex, there’s a gentle knocking on the door, startling you both. You hop off him, kicking your discarded pants somewhere hidden, retreating back into your seat, covering yourself quickly with a blanket. Nanami pulls his pants back up, doing the same, clearing his throat before answering, sliding the door just a crack. “Yes?”

The flight attendant beams at you, seemingly oblivious to what just occurred. “Your call light is on, so I’m just checking in!”

Nanami blushes, running his fingers through his hair. “I must have hit it on accident. Sorry about that.”

They smile, giving you both a knowing wink. “Don’t worry. Happens all the time. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that, Nanami shuts the door, hiding his laughter behind his hand as you huddle beneath the blanket, mortified at being caught, officially a member of the mile high club. 

[probablyasocialecologist]

In 1940s Britain, at a time before fast food and ready meals were staples of the British high street and in a country struggling to deal with the ramifications of war, a popular new restaurant chain was established. It served high-quality meals at reasonable prices, attracted customers from the full spectrum of British society, and grew at a rate of 10 new sites a week at its most popular. The brains behind the operation? The British government, led by the prime minister, Winston Churchill. Churchill’s British Restaurants, a chain of government-funded canteens offering nutritious price-capped meals, were intended to counter inflation in food and fuel prices related to the war, as well as to boost community spirit. At their peak, there were more British Restaurants across the UK than there are branches of McDonald’s or Wetherspoons today. Now a new report is calling for the return of a “national restaurant service” in some form, as a way to tackle contemporary issues such as health inequality, food insecurity and even climate change in the UK. A forthcoming report entitled Public diners: the idea whose time has come, by food policy NGO Nourish Scotland, marks the beginning of a campaign to introduce restaurants as a new piece of national infrastructure, a call backed by politicians and experts. A public diner, according to the report, is a state-subsidised eatery serving quality and ethically produced food at affordable prices. Crucially, says Nourish Scotland, they are neither charity nor a treat, but rather everyday eating places for entire communities to access.

[...]

Last year hospital data showed the number of patients in England and Wales being treated for nutritional deficiencies had tripled in a decade while a January 2024 survey by the Food Foundation found 20% of UK households with children reported experiencing food insecurity. And, Nourish Scotland says, ingredients could be sourced from organic farms, reducing unsustainable food production practices and food waste, and stimulating local economies. Public diners have already been realised elsewhere in the world. In Poland, government-funded “milk bars” (bar mleczny) gained popularity in the communist era as a way to serve traditional home-cooked food at low prices, and remain numerous today. Singapore’s “hawker centres”, market-style community dining rooms, emerged as part of the nation’s urban redevelopment following independence, and bring an array of street sellers under one roof to ensure vendors’ access to ingredients and space, as well as food hygiene standards and choice for consumers. The call for state-subsidised dining in the UK comes amid a growing international movement for public restaurants as key infrastructure.

31 August 2024

See also I Dream of Canteens, by Rebecca May Johnson

[639-hear-me-out-bby]

pairing: namjoon x afab! pregnant! reader

warnings: pregnancy mentions (nothing heavy, just the idea of being pregnant)

a/n: hello! so this is just me testing my waters on writing again after losing my mind to an indefinite hiatus + studying. hope y'all enjoy!

"Well, aegi has been very active recently. As much as I hate to admit it babe, it's probably 'cause you've been home over the weekend." You say as you trail behind.

"Pregnancy is no joke in Korea, hon. I'll give it that." You say as you trail behind Namjoon who's been carrying yet another box to the nursery. "Well, that's what a hardworking country gets. All the economy, none of the kids," he trails off as he enters the nursery, "Watch yourself, baby. You, your clumsy self, and our soccer star."

What you say is true. As you've been reading relentlessly all the prenatal books the world has to offer. It's been saying that you should listen to classical music or, at least, play music so it stimulates the baby and you have been doing that but it's just not working.

But life has been colorful on the recent days. All this "baby prep", as Namjoon would call it, has you in a whirlwind. Deliveries and packages have built up on your home's doorstep the minute you've hit your second trimester.

Namjoon carefully sets down the box, brushing a stray hair out of his eyes as he turns to you, a soft smile lighting up his face. "Guess our little one knows when Appa's around," he says, his voice a mix of pride and amazement.

You walk over to the box he’s just placed, giving it a curious shake, and laugh as he raises an eyebrow at you. "What? I'm just trying to guess which of your 500 delivery orders this is," you tease.

He chuckles, reaching out to pull you close, his hand resting gently on your bump. "Hey, I can't help it if our baby deserves the best. Plus, I have to compensate for all those long work hours," he says, a bit of guilt lacing his words. You can tell he's still adjusting to balancing his passion for his career with this new life you're building together.

You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you, grounding you in this perfect moment. "Well, all that matters is that you're here now," you whisper, feeling your heart swell as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

As if on cue, the baby kicks—a strong, unmistakable nudge that has both of you jolting. You gasp, and Namjoon's eyes light up, pure joy spreading across his face as he drops to one knee, hands instantly resting on your belly. "Was that…? Oh, aegi, you’re going to be a real little champ," he murmurs softly to the bump.

The way he talks to your baby, that quiet adoration in his voice, makes you melt. He’s already so in love, and you realize this journey is going to be so much sweeter because of moments like this. Your hand rests on his, fingers lacing as you both stay there in the stillness, absorbing every flutter and heartbeat.

In that moment, you know that, yes, life is a whirlwind. But with him, it’s the most beautiful one you could ever imagine.

[fan-goddess]

Yes sir…

Thank you @succnfuccubus for inspiring me to write this and convincing me to actually do this

Summary: After another rejection, Billy’s feeling a little down in the dumps. But after meeting with your friend that morning and looking at a unique source material, you get a very unique idea on how to hopefully cheer him up.

Authors Note: Gave the friend a name as it was just easier. I loved the idea, but I don’t like this for some reason

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @anjelicawrites d

Warnings: Smut books, p in v sex, m oral, praise kink, power imbalance role play, role play, angst, comforting, sad boy Billy Washington, the economy, begging, cuddling (if I miss any let me know)

Billy had never been a particularly avid reader. The most he’d ever voluntarily read probably being the required reading for secondary school English. You on the other hand, even before you’d stumbled across the smut section on the internet, had always been a common bookworm.

When your friend Lya first began to lend you books from her so called private collection though, now that’s when you became a woman possessed. Soon, most of what you were reading involved some sort of dark romance filtered in. Whether that was mafia, pirate, or just a simple brother’s best friend romance. You read it all with an expressionless face.

Yet when you’d begun to date Billy, you must confess to the amusement of Lya, who you’d been borrowing books from for all these years, that you hadn’t been borrowing and reading as many of those sort of books as you used too. Since now, you had a real life romance novel in front of your very eyes to carry out. It wasn’t exactly the dream romance kids pictured after watching a Disney movie, but what sort of relationships were these days?

The last few days, you and Billy had been unable to have sex due to a sudden difference in work times. Well, your work times and Billy’s interviews. Still, whilst you were used to this happening at some random times, your pussy had taken a sudden hit with the recent dry streak. Now, you were beginning to crave one of those novels of yours in your hands again. Desperate for a new sort of fiction that’d get brain stimulated and your cunt working.

So you called the best smut dealer you knew.

“Hey bestie!” You grinned, picking at your nail while your other hand was busy holding the phone. “I need a favour…” She’d laughed when you’d asked her for a new recommendation, yet to your relief, you and her had managed to agree to a meet up the next day to, exchange the goods.

The morning you were supposed to leave, you remember kissing Billy goodbye as your adorable half asleep boyfriend was still laying in bed all cosy and pretty. “Where are you going?” He’d grumbled, so cute with a small tired pout on his face that it almost made you want to strip back down to nothing and pounce on him there and then. The lack of sex it seemed was really getting to you right now.

“Visiting one of my friends for a morning drink. Nothing much baby. Remember though you’ve got that interview at 3, so don’t forget!” You smiled, giving him another deep kiss before you go that left Billy’s cheeks flushed from bashfulness. He’s so effortlessly fucking sexy it was utterly unreal…

When you got to the cafe you’d planned to meet Lya at, she eagerly waved at you from a discreet corner of the room. She may be honest as hell about what she reads, but she sure as hell knows how to act like a fucking dealer about it.

“Hello darling!” You smile, moving so you could give her a quick hug before sitting opposite her. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright thanks babes! Stocking up on my little novel collection, which reminds me!” She gives you a mischievous smile, and from her bag produced a book with quite a different cover than what you thought it’d be. As she places in front of you what looks to be a copy of great expectations.

“Think you’ve mixed up the books Lya!” You laugh, giggling in amusement when you see her look at you with such disappointment.

“Course I haven’t idiot!” She sighs, moving to grab the book and remove the book cover, before showing you the back of it. Where much to your surprise, you find the blurb for a very different book. Called ‘Unbuttoning the CEO’. “I read it last week and thought it’d be perfect for you!”

You laugh at the title and place the secret cover back on, before placing it in your bag. You don’t bring the book up again the rest of the catch up convo, but at the end when the two of you have eaten your cakes, drunk your coffees and were saying your goodbyes, you made sure to let Lya know what you thought of the book when you read it.

When you get back home, you head to the bedroom first to see if Billy’s back or not. The bed you can see is unmade and ruffled, yet when you feel it you can tell it’s cold to the touch, telling you Billy left a while a go. You head to the living room and sit on the sofa with a small sigh, praying Billy didn’t decide to head to the pub before a job interview.

You’re still for a couple minutes trying to think of what to do to occupy your time while you wait for Billy, and your eyes can’t help but be drawn to your bag, where the book practically taunts you from inside it. Before you even know it, you’re curled up on the sofa with the book in your hand and your lip between your teeth.

Words blur as you read sentence after sentence, but your eyes certainly eagerly tune in when you get to the actual sex part, which wasn’t even very far in to be honest.

The ceo takes the assistant on his desk, and you can’t help but clench your legs together when you read about how later on the assistant helps the CEO to ‘destress’. You take a small break to make yourself a quick drink, and can’t help but find your mind drifting to the idea of you and Billy in those scenes, playing those characters. You can’t help but forget about even making any sort of drink as you imagine exactly how you could help Billy destress from the recent unfair influx of job rejections.

You eagerly get back to reading though, and by the time Billy comes back home around 5, stinking slightly of cheap lager, you’ve already finished the book twice and reread your favourite scenes about three times over.

“Hey baby!” You smile, making note on how Billy nuzzles his body into yours as much as he can as soon as he gets close enough. Your pretty little teddy bear… “How’d it go?”

“Said I weren’t what they were looking for…” He murmurs into the length of your neck, as you kiss the top of his head softly. “Another fucking failure to add to the list…”

“Don’t say that!” You firmly say, placing both your hands on the side of his face to force his eyes to meet yours. You hate the way he looks so broken in that moment. So beaten by the world that all you want to do in that moment is wrap your arms around him and keep him safe from everything and everyone. The assholes who hurt him hurt him good and deep, and if you could, you’d beat them to death yourself. Maybe even with your porn book that’d be a right sight you must admit… “You are fucking amazing! You’re my favourite person in the whole world and I will not have you bring yourself down! Do you understand me Billy Washington?”

He gulps, and for a second you swear you can see tears build up in his eyes before they’re quickly blinked away.

“I-I underhand darling. Thank you, for being there for me. For everything.” He says, before bringing you in for a hug. Practically crushing you with how hard his arms lock around your waist and his head stays tucked in the skin of your neck.

The two of you stay there for what feels like hours. Holding each other while the time goes by. The only reason the two of you even break away from each other is because your phone rings so loudly all of a sudden and shocks the two of you into remembering the situation at hand. You quickly move to switch your phone on silent, and yet your eyes somehow manage to drift to the book peeking out from behind a sofa cushion, and an idea makes it way through your mind.

“Hey Billy…” You begin, smirking when you see Billy’s usual shy persona breaking through his shell once more when he sees that smile of yours. “I wanna try something tonight…”

“What is it?” He asks, raising a brow and stepping back slightly when he sees the grin on your face.

“Just something I read recently. Wanna see how you’ll like it…” You purr, placing your hands on his shoulders and dragging him to the edge of the sofa, before pushing him slightly so he falls backwards with a small gasp. His eyes open wide as they stare at you with such awe and admiration that you can’t help but find yourself blushing slightly.

You slowly lower yourself between Billy’s legs, which seem to open as wide as they can automatically, and with innocent fluttering eyes, lay your head on the side on his leg.

“Can I please suck your cock sir?” You beg, a pout on your lips to mimic pure desperation as Billy practically seems to have a heart attack above you. He appears breathless as you spring this sudden fantasy upon him, and yet by the way you can see and feel his trousers move and strain with his quickly swelling cock, you can tell with certainty that he definitely seems to be enjoying this.

“Yes…” He eventually murmurs with a heavy breath. “You can suck my cock….”

“Thank you sir, I promise I won’t let you down!” You smile, moving your hands to undo his belt and shimmy down his trousers and his underwear. When Billy is left sitting naked before you, as he’d claimed to feel silly if he was sitting in just his shirt, you can’t even stop yourself from admiring your boyfriends erect cock that stands proudly before your face.

“Such a pretty cock sir…” You murmur, before opening your mouth and taking it in your mouth as far as you can before your nose hits the small soft patch of hair lying at the base of Billy’s cock.

You can hear him keen and whine above you, and you’re very sad you can’t see the way his eyes no doubt roll to the back of his head. You slowly move your head back and forth, keeping a steady pace that leaves Billy practically shaking and whining above you.

“Please….” You hear him beg. A noise you love more than anything, and yet at this moment it’s not what you want. You want him to feel in control for once. To know how much you worship him and adore him. To know that he has the ability to make you become so needy and desperate for him that you’ll do anything to please him. That is, with the right words of course.

“Please darling!” He continues, his whimpering so delightful to your ears that you almost throw your plan out the window so you could give him as many earth shattering orgasms as he deserves. But patience is a virtue, so you continue to suck at Billy’s cock in a leisurely pace. Drawing all sorts of noises from him that leaves your own lower half aching for a release.

“Take control of me Billy…” You eventually say, admittedly growing tired of the lack of communication between the both of you. “Take hold of me and do whatever you want to me sir…”

It seems your words finally made it into his pretty little head. Since as soon as you try and go back to putting your mouth on him after saying those words to him, you feel a strong hand wrap itself between the strands of your hair, atopping you from getting anymore closer to his cock than what you already are. It makes your pussy admittedly wetter as you’re now effectively eye level with Billy’s weeping member, and yet am unable to touch it at all. Forced to stare at it while it weeps a single drop his precum and watch while it trails down his erection. It’s absolute fucking torture.

“Please sir!” You find yourself begging, an actual pout on your lips as desperation claws up your whole body. “I wanna make you feel good sir! Wanna warm your cock in my mouth and feel your cum trickling down my throat!”

You can feel the grip his hands have on your hair tighten, and before you know it, Billy’s cock is hitting the back of your throat and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as your used like a pathetic fuck toy. You let your body go limp as you allow Billy to use you however he decides, yet he doesn’t seem to exactly have that part figured out yet, as he focuses on moaning and groaning about you like a porn star while he uses you to his current hearts content.

For a while, you almost find yourself unable to breathe. Gasping for air whenever the opportunity appeared. Yet still, you persist in your willingness, eager to see the usually so submissive man in front of you break.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He groans, moaning as he further tightens his grip on you and forces you to work harder and faster on his cock. You moan wantonly and work your tongue harder as you feel his tip become drenched in a delicious mixture of both your spit and his precum, and feel his entire length throb under the weight of your efforts. It’s actually quite flattering really, seeing how fast he’s about to cum from your suggestions.

“Fuuuuuuck please swallow baby please please please!” He whines, that inner submissive of his still lingering as he holds your head down firmly on his cock while you feel his cum shoot down to the back of your throat, and practically choke you with how much you feel quickly filling your mouth. You cough slightly as you try and obey Billy by swallowing what you can, yet you can’t help but have a few drops of his essence flow down your cheek as you struggle swallowing the first few drops.

“Here you go baby…” Billy murmurs, using his fingers to pick up the stray dribbles and put them in front of your lips. Admittedly you feel quite bashful as you avoid his eyes while sucking the remaining taste of him off his fingers, but as soon as you finish, those same now spit covered fingers rest under your chin and force your head up so your eyes can meet.

A silent gasp releases under your breath as you see an uncharacteristic carefree yet somehow cocky smile on Billy’s face. That submissive man you saw not even five minutes ago gone as this new, changed man sits before you. Like some sort of strange sexual butterfly.

“You were a good girl for me.” He simply says, allowing you to bask in the feeling of his dominance that makes your legs weak at the knees. “And good girls if I’m right, get rewarded. You taught me that pretty girl. So please, get naked, and get on the bed for me arse up, so I can reward you for being so good for me.”

Fuck you’ve made a monster. A sexy one yes, but still a sexually dominant monster.

You do as Billy says to a T. Stripping yourself quickly so that your clothes are all over the bedroom floor, and placing your body on the bed in Billy’s desired position. You wait with bated breath for what feels like hours while your skin erupts in a multitude of goosebumps, and you swear you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel Billy’s warm skin suddenly against yours. You feel his half hard cock rubbing almost pitifully against your arse, and you realise with a very sick thrill that you can actually feel him getting harder the more your juices seem to coat him.

It seems though you were so caught up in your thoughts, that you miss the sounds of Billy’s own clumsy movements of stripping.

“So pretty…” He groans. A beautiful sound that leaves you wanting more more and more. How greedy of you… “You want to be fucked by me don’t you? By your boss?”

“Yes sir!” You whine, your head going dull as you stay focused only Billy’s body and nothing else. On the way he makes you feel so effortlessly, and without meaning. “Want you to make me yours! Want me to make sure everyone knows I only belong to you!”

You can hear Billy deeply grunt behind you, and with a gasp you don’t even at first realise belong to you, you feel Billy thrust his cock deep inside you. An intense feeling of fullness hitting you as you close your eyes and grip your hands desperately at the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.

He gratefully allows you to get used to the sudden intrusion, but before you know it, Billy is quickly thrusting himself quickly in and out of you while you moan and keen for more beneath him. Your eyes screwing shut as your lower belly slowly tightens harder and harder.

“So good!” He groans, unexpectedly yet cautiously smacking your backside with his palm that causes an absolute pathetic sound to leave your lips. “My sweet little slut. All mine to fuck!”

An abundance of yeses comes quickly and brainlessly as you answer Billy’s statement with a high pitched moan. All you want right now is to cum. And by the way you can feel your cunt clenching and fluttering hard around Billy’s cock, you can guess it won’t be long before you do.

“Fuck sir I wanna cum please let me cum for you sir I’ve been so good!” You whine, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as Billy somehow manages to move himself faster against you. The sound of his skin smacking at such a fast pace against your own to your ears sounding like an erotic symphony.

“Yes… you have been good…” Billy groans. His voice so strained it’s as if he’s struggling with all his strength to say them. “So you’ll continue to be good… by taking my fucking cum in your perfect cunt!”

You take that as your queue, and with a loud unwavering yell, you cum hard around Billy’s cock. Coaxing forth his own orgasm as he clutches hard at your skin and pushes himself as deep as he can to you. Moaning as you focus on the feeling of his hot cum filling you.

You can also feel his pubic hair stimulating your swollen clit, which leaves you silently gasping against the mattress and your aching pussy clenching against Billy’s softening cock.

The two of you stay where you are as you allow each other to breathe and calm down, yet it’s not long before the two of you are cuddling under the bed covers, with Billy’s cock still inside you.

“Did you like that baby?” You can’t help but murmur. Anxious on whether Billy was happy over you pushing him out of his usual comfort zone.

“It was different…” He summarises. You cannot see his face to make any assumptions. Given that your man has gone back to his roots by putting his head in the curve of your neck. “But I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

You may not be able to see it, but even so, your ego swells massively when you realise you can feel Billy’s bashful smile against your skin. It almost makes you want to have your wicked way with him again. That is though, before you realise with a warm feeling chest that Billy has steadily fallen asleep against you. With his softened cock still inside you, and your arms wrapped firmly around his body ensuring his safety.

“Sleep baby…” You murmur, kissing the top of his head with a smile. “You were such a good boy for me baby… we’ll see about rewarding you later….”

You may have imagined it, but you swear you can feel Billy smile against your skin. Yet you push the thought away and instead choose to close your eyes, and allow your own exhaustion to overcome you. You and Billy’s breaths and hearts synching as you hold each other with as much love as a sleeping person could handle.

[buglass]

Funny How Time Slips Away

Mature 18+

Summary: By 2025 in an alternate dystopian future, America is under an authoritarian dictatorship. To sustain the economy, one of the few tricks the government has permitted is biological advances allowing the biggest stars in entertainment to be cloned, trained, and sold to the masses as they once were before. At long last, Elvis Presley’s DNA is next to be developed and brought back to life. Melody Cunningham, a developmental biologist, questions over time if what Truman Laboratory and the government are doing is ethical. Risking her career and life, she must decide if enough is enough to help the new Elvis escape. Pairing: Elvis Presley x Melody Cunningham!Black!OFC Chapters: 1/? WC: 3.6K+ Warnings: Authoritarian/dystopian society AU, oral, p in v, slight age gap, sex worker, uncut, sci-fi science-y biology nonsense, cussing, etc. A/N: This idea popped into my head because who wouldn’t want Elvis to be alive right now? Enjoy this sci-fi/dystopian take <3 Kind of a long one but so much detail had to be crammed in. Likely shorter chapters in the future lol Next Chapter

The Washington D.C. lab was as cold as most of the minds that filled it. Melody wasn’t brought up to be emotionless but when the country was turned over into the hands of one man and the government bent over to follow, much of her life had changed as she knew it. So she put on the facade of being a loyal subject and obsessively studious. Melody wasn’t much of a fan of anything to do with structure and working out of an office, so she focused on majoring in STEM. The only way she felt her mind could be stimulated in the way music, television shows, and movies did for her was by being on her feet in a lab.

Melody chewed on her bottom lip as she flipped through the notes on the tablet. As the underling to the head biologist, she was meant to double and triple check stats and findings on the subjects. That’s what the people in their vats were meant to be referred to--subjects. Not human beings or real people. Lately, the older she got and the less naive she became to the government’s rule, Melody quietly questioned if she could live with herself. Since she joined Truman Labs last year after six rigorous years of higher education, she put on a show of doing what she was told and doing it better than anyone else who came before her. Melody’s eyes drifted over one famous face after the other, recognizing a few and others not as much. 

Checking the queue of who was next to fill the empty columns was nothing abnormal. Her eyes drifted over the list of five new names, using her index finger to scan each paragraph describing the traits attached to the subject. The bottom of the list and final name stated ‘Elvis Presley’ and his specimen number ‘EP3577’. Melody had heard of Elvis Presley, sure, but since the government regulated the Internet since she was a teenager, delving into older celebrities and music was based on physical media she could obtain. 

In the following months, Melody bit her tongue and did as she was told. Elvis’s DNA was collected back in his Army days, she read, the notes describing how his specimen was obtained were as simple as that. It was the company’s way of assuring there was more DNA to spare if need be. A short clip, to her surprise, showed a young Elvis Presley in black and white getting his hair cut on a military installation that stood today. Melody was taken by the sadness that crossed his face and the smile he put on for show. 

The weeks carried on until the sac surrounding what could appear to be a fetus grew rapidly within its vestibule. Melody watched and monitored him as the weeks grew into months and he was a full-fledged young man of about twenty to twenty-one years old. That’s how the government and the world liked them. Each celebrity was youthful and spry so they ultimately had a long enough lifespan to be useful again. Melody didn’t know what it was about him that stuck out to her besides how handsome he was. She had seen plenty of handsome men and beautiful women come through the lab. Knowing he died at forty-two may have affected her or it was the commercials broadcasted as of late promising to bring him back to the stage. 

She hated it.

She hated knowing they would soon keep him under lock and key the same way the real Elvis had been. That’s what her grandmother who raised her was able to convey one of the nights they met for dinner.

“Now, baby, we shouldn’t talk much about Before. I don’t mind it. They already know how excited folks are about Elvis returnin’.” Her grandmother said.

“Yeah… I was just curious.” Melody offered. Her grandmother had no clue that she worked for Truman Labs. Only that she’s a scientist with an okay-paying job that helps her get by on her own to afford an apartment and modest car.

“He was just eccentric. One of the first White boys that brought flavor and rhythm to America’s attention. Back then,” she clasps her hands over her bowl of food. “Similar to now, you weren’t supposed to be gyratin’ and swingin’ your hips on TV. It was lewd. I’m surprised they want to bring him back at that age.” 

“Do you still have some of his records?” Melody asked, stirring her food nonchalantly.

“Of course, baby. Go on and listen to whatever you like. Finish up your food first, you’re a growin’ young girl.”

“Grandma, I’m twenty-five years old,” Melody laughed.

“You’ll always be my baby. Now hush and eat.” Her grandmother dismissed, causing Melody to smile.

That evening she reacquainted herself with Elvis Presley’s music and gratefully enamored with the vinyls of Elvis simply talking or being interviewed. His southern drawl was much thicker than some of the southern twangs Melody encountered in the metropolitan area. 

She softened for him a little more, hardly noticing it once she was back at work.

The following week, Melody was checking vitals as necessary but lingered on Elvis a while longer. The application displayed everything from Elvis’s heartbeat to statistics of survivability. The lead biologist, Randall, wandered over to her side and crossed his arms over his chest as he peeked over to the tablet. He was pushing forty or already well into his forties. She wasn’t sure. The gray hairs among the brown strands and his bushy mustache threw her off. He was lean and tall, a bit too wiry for her liking. Melody knew when he was nearby because he always sprayed too much cologne. 

“You’ve taken a liking to him, haven’t you?” Randall, leaned over to whisper jokingly.

“Ha, ha. I’m only being cautious so months of our hard work comes to fruition,” she glanced over to him and then back to Elvis. His genetically blond hair was spliced into being as black as his mother’s. It was insisted upon to save costs on his appearance. Melody watched his floating and bobbing figures, a couple of tubes connected to him swishing in the life-sustaining substance.

“It’s okay to like him. Every girl your age back then did. More or less. The world will be happy to have him back.” Randall nodded, looking up at Elvis. She screwed her mouth to the side while debating what to say and what not to.

“What about his family? Doesn’t he still have relatives that are alive today?”

“Some, but who would speak out against the regime? They’ll end up with a bullet between their eyes before someone intervenes on a family’s behalf.” Randall lowered his voice.

“Right,” Melody answered tersely.

“Are you alright, Mel? You’ve been tense lately.” Randall asked, crinkling his brows.

“This is just…important. It’s nothing more than the usual stress. I’m okay.” She nodded.

“Well, don’t be afraid to let me know if you need to put in some leave. Give the rest of these freeloaders something to do.” Randall said, clapping a friendly hand on her back. He left to check on the said freeloaders and Melody felt her shoulders drop as the tension left her. 

The day came when the five subjects would be transferred to the Training Wing. Melody was anxious about the entire process. The Training Wing could be stringent and border on abusive, from what she heard. Each celebrity clone needed something in particular about them ingrained into them in a small amount of time. Truman Labs was manufacturing nature versus nurture. In the past year, she learned that some things were just ingrained in every person. Sure, they had to be retaught how to play an instrument or act but they picked up on it like they were born to do it. 

One of the other scientists pulled the switch down for the specific group to be drained, a yellow light flashing above his head to alert what was happening. Melody couldn’t stand still, pacing and attached to the tablet as she checked the vitals of all five persons. They slowly lowered to the bottom of their tanks, a few crumpling where they ended up and unable to walk if they tried. Elvis was one of the few that started to come to and open his eyes. His hair hung in his face and he raised a hand slowly to wipe it from his forehead. The awaiting training teams dressed from head to two in white scrubs stood by with five gurneys, two to one. The first few doors were opened with a hiss as they began removing tubes and strongarming the subjects, loading them up onto the carts and strapping their soaked forms in.

Elvis’s head rolled when he was on the cart, his eyes landing on Melody as she stood back. Her full lips parted as his strikingly blue eyes focused on her and his unstrapped arm hung off the gurney as if reaching out. That was strange as the subjects were usually too disoriented to acknowledge what was going on but there he was focused on Melody. She swallowed hard and dropped her eyes back to the tablet, checking his vitals. Elvis’s heart rate had gone up and by the time she was looking at him again, he was using what little strength he had to bat off the training team members. 

“Do you have a sedative on hand?” Asked one of the escorts, a stocky woman.

Melody was distracted by Elvis’s eyes holding her gaze, impressed by how much he shoved against the hands trying to wrestle him down. The whimpering sounds he made tugged at her, stabbing into her gut and up into her heart. There was that uncomfortable feeling again, seeing him as a person and not a lab rat. Melody nodded distractedly once she regained her internal composure. The tablet was left on a desk as she walked over to one of the few refrigerators that held all sorts of drugs and syringes on hand. Melody made quick work of drawing the sedative up into a sterile needle and approached Elvis’s gurney, plucking at it to clear out any bubbles. 

Elvis seemed to calm down the closer she got to him until he saw how sharp the needle was. He made a sound of discomfort, cringing as Melody gained in on him and turned over his arm.

“It won’t hurt too much,” she told him gently. “You’ll sleep,” Melody said, hoping he understood enough. Injecting the sedative, Elvis looked unsure and the space between his brows crinkled. His expression changed within seconds, his face relaxing until his eyes rolled shut.

“Thanks. He’s one strong son of a bitch,” said the same woman. “I thought they hardly knew what was going on at first?”

“Me too,” the male training member cosigned, exhaling a deep breath.

“Yeah, I don’t know. That was new for me, too.” Melody whispered, bringing a hand up into her hair and scratching at her head.

The first few days were always the toughest for the subjects when adjusting to their bodies and their unusually developed minds for their age. It had been just over six months since they were processed in a tube to where they were now under watchful eyes and cameras recording their every move. Elvis had his own housing as they all did. In some form or fashion, the apartment-like housing quarters were meant to replicate where they lived when they were that age as much as possible. The notes labeled his living space simply as ‘Audobon’ for the street he lived on back in nineteen-fifty-six. Every inch of the living quarters was paneled by two-sided glass that Elvis couldn’t see through but any observers could always watch him from room to room.

Melody observed as his caretakers and teachers filtered in and out over the days and weeks, teaching Elvis how to dress and carry himself. His guitar lessons were scheduled here and there in between and his speech therapist would usually follow. He was doing well besides the slight stutter he had grown accustomed to. But, the collective notes reassured her it was very characteristic of him after all. Any other free time was focused on what Melody called 'The Brainwashing' where a VR headset with subliminal images displaying the past of the real celebrity was given to the clone after they were sedated for up to an hour a day. Sometimes music or movies were played over the speakers too while they slept.

Elvis and Melody had yet to see one another directly since he was strapped to the gurney. As was protocol, Melody checked on the subjects solely for their vitals and acuity. Admittedly, she couldn’t wait for the day to come to encounter Elvis for herself. When the day did come, the steel door to his housing clicked as the large bolts holding it in place were unlocked after approval for entry was gained. The stethoscope around her neck felt heavy. Melody held the tablet at her side. She bumped the blood pressure cuff in her lab coat pocket, nervous to meet Elvis though she had long since come to terms that most of the celebrities weren’t who they were made to be. It felt inauthentic to her either way and yet Elvis filled her stomach with butterflies.

Melody stepped inside and waited for the door behind her to shut. Another heavy clunk and she was locked in with Elvis. From what she had observed, he grew used to his circumstances though he sometimes lashed out at the staff when he didn’t quite get his way. He was genetically a Presley--it was fitting. Melody followed the sound of guitar strumming and playing, finding him in his bedroom lying back on his bed in the same fifties garb he would have worn with the guitar atop of him. She knocked at the door out of politeness, shuffling into the room. Elvis lifted his head suddenly, jumping as he looked over to her. His eyes went wide as he moved to sit up.

“You’re that lady from the-the lab? Where they took me from,” he said warily though he appeared awestruck.

“I am. I’m Melody and here to check on your vitals. Is that okay with you?” She shuffled, clasping her hands together and the tablet against her stomach.

“You told me before that shot wasn’t gonna hurt any,” Elvis said, moving his guitar to his side on the bed. “You lied ta me.”

Melody didn’t know what to make of him, squinting just as a smile grew on his face. Her lips parted in thought before she found herself laughing.

“I’m sorry, but I had to be sure you stayed calm. It’s all protocol we have to follow. Not somethin’ I necessarily wanted to do.” She pressed her lips together, amused. 

“Mm, I see. I’m gettin’ used to it, the pokin’ and proddin’,” Elvis said playfully. 

Melody crossed the room humming in return, placing the tablet on the bed. She drew out the blood pressure cuff from her coat pocket and stood in front of Elvis. His socked feet were flat on the floor, his back straight as he let his hands lie in his lap. Melody grabbed a hold of the left sleeve of his button-up shirt to begin rolling it up.

“I’m sorry you’re bein’ poked and prodded,” she amended.

“Most of ‘em aren’t as pretty as you,” he tried as he looked down at her hands. “Otherwise, it’s, uh, not so bad.”

“You are just a baby, you know that?” Melody laughed as he raised a brow. Elvis might have looked twenty-one but to her, he was just a boy.

“Not where it matters,” Elvis smirked.

She should have known to expect it but to her knowledge, Elvis never openly dated Black women. Melody narrowed her eyes and didn’t respond, focusing on the task at hand as she finally got the cuff around his arm. The earplugs to the stethoscope were brought up before she took the bell and pressed it into the nook of Elvis’s arm. His eyes never left her while Melody honed in on his pulse and squeezed the pump to the cuff. Elvis’s free hand began to wander, lifting until it settled on her waist. Melody jumped, unable to bat him away while she watched the seconds tick by on her worn wristwatch. She never thought to take any of the warnings seriously about how much he enjoyed touch and attention. The job should have been mostly in and out. 

That was how most of her visits went and she wanted to be less entertained and inviting to Elvis’s woes and whims, but he was unbelievably personable. His charisma was that of the original Elvis who died in seventy-seven. For the benefit of making Elvis into Elvis, the lab as a whole and inspectors didn’t seem to mind when he grew fond of someone. In their notes, everyone appeared to agree it was for the better that Elvis remained a lady’s man through and through. 

Then came the time for Elvis to be given the first woman of many that he would come to encounter within the lab alone. After a few months of running jokes about watching Elvis touch himself, Melody put her feelings aside for the sake of following rules. A year was coming up since Melody first synthesized Elvis’s DNA and she came to like him and borderline possibly love him. The latter was something she struggled to admit even to herself. As was custom to the rock stars Truman Labs created, there were women on hand and hired as was the norm for the New Age. Agencies of sex workers contracted with the government and most favored working in the biotechnical field strictly for the chance to bed a celebrity. 

Melody could have thrown up. She knew somewhere around this age that Elvis slept with a woman for the first time but she didn’t see why it mattered. When men were in control, it didn’t have to make sense. She guessed it was like they took pity on the male subjects to validate their collective horniness. She was on the evening shift that night, grateful to be mostly alone apart from a couple of others who made the arrangements to provide protection and essentials for a romantic evening. Anyone else was in the Security Center monitoring. 

She roamed around to the glass window that peered into Elvis’s bedroom where a thin but curvaceous woman with a pixie cut dressed in a tight black dress befitting of the fifties era was leading him by hand. Elvis was slack-jawed, a tent bulging in his trousers. Melody tried to refrain from being jealous when they were on the couch watching a movie together and Elvis made the first move, tipping the woman’s chin in his direction to kiss her. She didn’t blame either one of them. 

But why did she feel that way? 

The woman--going by Jenny--pushed Elvis down onto his bed and he grunted, staring up with wide eyes that only a virgin could convey. “I-I ain’t never done this before,” he said.

“Oh, I know, honey. I’ll be real sweet to you. I promise,” Jenny said, her voice buttery and recognizably southern.

Then she was kneeling between Elvis’s legs, rubbing her hands up his pant-covered thighs. Melody swallowed as she forgot about the notes she was meant to be taking as she had done a hundred times before. Jenny reached up to unbutton and unzip Elvis’s pants as he perched himself on his elbows. Elvis released a shaky breath as he lifted up his hips while Jenny wrenched his trousers and underwear away. His uncut cock sprung free and Jenny cooed at Elvis warmly. The way he was trembling, Melody was sure he wasn’t going to last any longer than a few minutes and that meant they would have to book her again. 

Melody groaned as she rubbed her brow, forcing herself to move to a different spot. She wanted to tell herself she didn’t need to look but her eyes were on them again. Jenny was quick since by then her lips were wrapped around Elvis’s length and she bobbed carefully. He held the base of his cock for her, his opposite hand gentle on the back of her head. Melody froze, watching his face convulse and change with every movement. 

“Fuck, baby, you keep doin’ that and I’ll… I’ll come,” Elvis grunted. Jenny made obscene mouth noises as she pulled off of him and his cock jumped as cool air met wet skin. 

“It’s okay if you do. But, I guess I can stop.” Jenny smiled, pulling back. Elvis breathed out in response as if he was relieved to hear it. “Do you have a condom, sweetie?” She asked.

“Yeah, uh, yeah. One second, honey.” Elvis sat up, reaching down into the pocket the pants pooling around his ankles. He dug free a shiny, square blue wrapper that Jenny took as she stood. She moved skillfully, tearing the plastic and removing the condom. Jenny rolled the rubber on familiarly, moving with ease over top of Elvis to straddle him with her dress and heels on. 

Elvis braced his hands at her hips, watching her with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes that caused an ache deep below Melody’s belt. Her heart was racing and she shivered, hoping the attention from every other observer assigned to Elvis that evening was on the couple. Melody was gripping her tablet hard enough her hand was starting to hurt before she noticed. Elvis’s head fell back as Jenny sunk down onto him, eventually lying flat on his back as her hips bounced.

Melody cleared her throat, suddenly sure she had all the notes she needed and could later review the recording if necessary. Elvis’s eyes opened again at some point and he turned away from Jenny to look toward the window he couldn’t see out of. Melody paused again, wary that he could see her somehow. His top lip curled as he moaned out and he shut his eyes again, his hands sliding under Jenny’s dress by her hand showing him where to touch her. Melody turned on her heel to return to her desk in the lab.

“Oh, my God,” Elvis hissed, his voice echoing into the hall over a speaker.

Melody was screwed.