#you can't have all the pretty in the world!!

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[vaguely-concerned]

imagining that while rook is gone, about a week and a half or so in, there's one night where lucanis suddenly appears unannounced in illario's room in the way he has of doing that and which could scare anyone else to death on its own, but of all people in the world illario is the most inclined to only find it mildly annoying to look up from his bad boy Brooding and also facemask-equivalent beauty routine (can't be tragically denied even being doomed by the narrative if you ain't cute) to find his cousin -- now first talon of the crows at least in name -- suddenly staring at him intently and expressionlessly from a few meters away. and when illario (half-jokingly, half-seriously, all-yearningly because crows live bad) is like 'ah so is this finally it are you here to kill me' even with no vengeful purple glow in evidence lucanis just snorts scathingly to show all the seriousness with which he still takes that idea and illario has to wistfully be like 'no, I thought not. so to what do I owe the honour, then, first talon. I figured you'd be pretty busy out there by now'.

and lucanis doesn't say anything at all, just stands there silently for a while and then sits down in a corner of the room with his back against the wall and buries his face in his hands. you have to understand how crucial it is for my vision here that they Do Not talk about it. they never talk about it, not in that moment and not later. illario doesn't have the first idea what 'it' could even be, once he's asked 'is it -- caterina? did something happen to...' (feeling suddenly and absurdly as much like a little boy again as lucanis just had before covering his face) and gotten the slightest headshake in response, nothing else he tries to ask even gets a reaction.

everything is all fucked up and nothing is ever going to be like it used to and the fact that this is where lucanis thought to go about whatever has happened to make his eyes look like that is ludicrous on so many levels and in so many ways. but I do think illario eventually sighs and at least sits down on the floor next to him, leaving a bigger distance between them than he might have once both in self-defense and out of something like consideration. 'I'd ask if you'd like to talk about it, but of course I know you. you never do'. (even with everything else that has happened, illario still knows lucanis better than almost anyone in the world. few things could have convinced him that maybe it really is his cousin in there still quite like this prolonged and complete lack of communication lol.) in the silence they fail to keep each other company in the same way they have for years, but maybe they can at least be honest about it now.

and then when lucanis gets to his feet like this entire very strange silent last half hour never happened to brush dust from his clothes and say he has to go... what can illario really do but go 'sure. great talk, as always. happy to be of service' from the floor as he watches his cousin disappear again into the night. I imagine illario wearing some sort of opulent bath robe or something through this whole thing by the way I think that's an important detail to get in there

[deansbeer]

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧

[yandere-wishes]

✮⋆˙Red Hood and The Big Bad Wolf ˙⋆✮

⭒⌒★ Yandere! Jason Todd x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓕𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 𝓣𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓐𝓤 ♡ ｡ ゜

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

*ੈ✩‧₊ Thinking about how similar Red Hood is to Little Red Riding Hood, not just in name but also in practice. At their core, they are both things, red things, that survive. Reborn from the lugubre maws of death, forced to live another day, carrying baskets weaved of anguish and instability.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Jason keeps the old picture book tucked in his jacket pocket. He can't quite remember where he found the fickle thing. Can't remember why he chose such an evanescent tale to cling to.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Or maybe he does, maybe he knows exactly why he runs his fingers over his inside pocket after every fight, just to make sure the eccentric fable is still in place. Maybe it's because he understands Red Riding Hood. Knows what she's been through, what it feels like to have your innocence stripped like skin being torn from bones. To be killed and revived all in the same breath. Maybe it's because he wants to know what happens next. What happens when Little Red learns to breathe again? He wants to ask her, beg her to tell him. To be the solution to all his problems.

*ੈ✩‧₊ "How do you swallow the trauma? What do you do with the phantom pain of your heart's reanimation? How do you make the darkness go away? Did you come back the same?

*ੈ✩‧₊ There is only one thing that makes them differ. One fundamental little thing...

*ੈ✩‧₊ Jason doesn't mind the wolf. Pretty pup prowling about. He blames it on his upbringing. He'd been taught to fall in love with such wicked things. From as early as he can remember he's watched bats chase cats across gargoyle-littered rooftops. Watched pretty girls throw themselves at bleached killers. That's why he's quick to be enarmed with the new villain terrorizing the Gotham streets. The girl in a wolf mask, planting bombs in jewelry stores and biting off her victim's ears.

*ੈ✩‧₊ There is nothing scary about the big bad wolf, Red Hood thinks, as he re-reads the page where the wolf and girl meet. Why fear pain when you've been to the end of the road? Why fear something when you're acquainted with its ending?

*ੈ✩‧₊ "Shouldn't wolves only come out when there's a full moon?" He swings in from the skyline, ironclad military boots lodging into your stomach pushing you back into a glass display case. "That's werewolves you idiot" you mumble out of breath, glass shards pocking at your spine. The ticking of your newest explosive rings melodically through the air. He's quick to cut the wires, to defuse your toy without a second thought. Professional you think bitterly as you pounce on his back looking for an opening of flesh to sink your teeth into.

*ੈ✩‧₊ The thing they don't tell you about dying is that you always come back wrong. Primordially, spiritually, the person who closes their eyes, is never the same one who opens them again.

But Red Riding Hood was lucky, her story ended before she realized that dreadful thing. Jason has to deal with it every day, the reverberating scars, the colorless world that fractures and breaks should he let his mind wander astray. The fact that his heart only ever truly beats when he sees the fluffy ears of your cowl and that damn bloodthirsty smirk.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason Todd who's only brave enough to call it love after you stake a knife through his heart. The bulletproof vest and armor keep the damage away, but he can see the murderous intent shimmering in your eyes. It's only then that he pulls you down by the back of your neck. Lips to lips, a messy clash of anathema and apprehension. Your teeth gnaw at his lips while his tongue composes ballads on the roof of your mouth.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He wonders if Little Red ever went back for the wolf. If she ever dares kiss him with all the pain and anguish she has left in her body. Nicking her tongue on his razor-sharp teeth. Guiding his claws to ghost over her frail body. He wonders if the wolf can even hurt her. There's so little left that can hurt you when you've already felt the end.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He knows you stalk him, follow him even during the day. Sometimes he pulls you into the back alleyway. Knife at your throat as he soaks up your ethereal face. Mask on, mask off. In the end, you'd have found out anyway. His hands squeeze at your hips, needing the flesh, leaving his essence over your body. His lips danced over the back of your neck, biting tenderly at the apex of your shoulder.

*ੈ✩‧₊ You seem to like it when his knife cuts deep. When his punches crack bone. When his boots crush you into the pavement. You throw your head back and laugh, witty little threats spilling from your mouth. So this is love he thinks as your claws rake over his biceps ripping the muscle like ribbons, rummaging through the blood and tissue in search of bone. "Poor little puppy" he mocks "looking for a bone to chew on". "Shut up you tomato-looking freak" you scream as his teeth sink into your jaw, crunching of bone.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He thinks you look gorgeous when you're irritated, he thinks you're beautiful when your bloodthirst seeps through the anger. He bites back a moan as your knee nests into his gut.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Did Little Red ever talk to her mother again? Or did she hold a grudge, haunted by her betrayal of sending her into the woods unarmed, heartbroken that she never came looking for her? Jason's thoughts pound inside his head, picture-book illustrations flash before him of Little Red pushing her mother away, of tears streaming down her face, screaming, screaming, screaming. He hisses as his lacerations burn. Hand suspended, pushing down the urge to knock on his father's door. Bruce would know what to do...he always knows what to do. It's such a childish notion, he clings to. Even now, even after he was killed and left un-avenged Jason still wholeheartedly believes in the notion that Daddy will fix everything...He's halfway to the entrance gate when Bruce alls after him, cadence thick with grief and ache. Jason doesn't turn back, he runs and runs and runs.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who crashes through your apartment window. Pushes you back onto the bed and lies next to you as you squirm and scream. He wraps his arms protectively around your waist and nuzzles into the crux of your neck. Mumbling Little Red Riding Hood's tale until you fall asleep. "How did You know I love the story?" you ask, the next morning to the empty half of your bed. Last night's tremulous dread still laying heavy on your corpse.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who lays on his window seal, watching as the sun pokes through Granny Red's face. It's funny isn't it, in such a twisted way didn't he also die in his grandfather's house? Only to be reborn while he watched? Didn't the same thing happen to Little Red?

*ੈ✩‧₊ That night Jason dream he's was walking through the grass, headed for the forest behind Wayne manner. He's trapped inside his jejune body, the body of a boy wonder. Clutching a basket with a crowbar inside as dread dances in his stomach. His old red cape taut around his neck, suffocating, skin-tight. He's forgotten how to breathe, puerile fear of those ghoulish old trees clawing at his body. Through the dimness, through lose rays that escape the moon's greed he's able to spot you. Weaving through the bushes and trees, stalking closer and closer. He doesn't know whether to meet you halfway or retreat. Frozen like a robin being pounced on by a sickly smiling cat. His eyes meet yours, right before you attack.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who misses you, when he doesn't catch you on patrol, of course, he misses you, it's hard not to miss a broken bone. Hard to feel the sting of your wounds and forget who put them there.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason finally realizes that he just can't bear to be away from you. This love, this mania, it's all for you. He needs you. He's got you corned, the end of a chase. You smile, all teeth and games, "You're pretty when sulk" you whisper, tracing claws up his chest, digging into the space between each ridge. "Oh really? How can you tell when I got this helmet on?" You laugh, coy and flirtish "I just do" you shrug. Pulling his helmet up, lips ghosting over his in a mockery of a kiss. Jason pushes forward, entraping your lips against his. Lost in intimacy he's quick to grab you, to drag you back to his apartment, to lock the doors and throw away the key. To keep the big bad wolf where she belongs, right next to Little Red Riding Hood.

   

🎀I feel like every Batson deserves a villainess to fall in love with. Let's call this one WolfWoman. TBH I feel like I want to write more for her in the future.

[rqsie63]

SHE'S THE MOMENT - Alex Albon.

pairing: alex albon x actress girlfriend! reader.

face claim: mikey madison (and lily too sometimes).

summary: alex and his girlfriend being on each others social media. (ig comments)

warnings: none?, my first "smau" attempt so don't expect something so great. english is not my first language.

a/n: first formula 1 fic / smau, exciting for my contribution to the Alexander Albon love club.

ynupdates just posted.

liked by ynalexchild, ynfan1, albonation and 3459 others.

ynupdates: her latest looks for final days of press tour! 😍🔥

View all the 285 comments...

ynalexchild: can't believe press tour is ending, but at the same time im happy she's having the vacation she needs ❤️

albonfan1: just in time for f1 summer break, ynalex content is coming

ynalexchild: iktr!!

user1: fourth pic is the reason im a lesbian

ynfan1: i need this movie to be big, her talent is unmatched

ynfan2: she's amazing in this movie, just saw it yesterday

ynhq: CAN YOU FIGHT @.alex_albon

alex_albon: yes 🔪

ynalexchild: alex kskfkgdd

alexftyn: he is so unserious 😭

user23: give her new makeup artist a rise asap

alex_albon just posted.

liked by yourusername, albonfan1, ynalexchild, alexftyn and 276845 others.

alex_albon: summer break!!!!

View all the 24184 comments...

ynalexchild: he is so boyfriend 💙

alexftyn: he is such a hot cutie

❤️ liked by yourusername

yourusername: before anyone asks, YES i can AND WILL FIGHT 🗣️👊

alex_albon: what's the colour of my shirts?

yourusername: nobody is looking at those damn shirts alexander🙄

albonfan23: i need to see fast cars on my screen again asap

georgerussell63: looking good mate

yourusername: stop flirting with my boyfriend

georgerussell63: i wasn't?????

user44: why is your gf not in your holiday post? very narcissistic behaviour

ynhq: you guys are pathetic, she just finished a WORLD press tour, maybe JUST MAYBE she went home a couple of days and then joined Alex in Thailand.

❤️ liked by yourusername

yourusername just posted.

liked by alex_albon, williamsracing, georgerussell63, ynalexchild, ynftalex, albonfan23 and 58063 others.

yourusername: since my boyfriend only posts about himself this is ME in thailand if you even care ✨🥂 (he's also there i guess🙄)

view all the 38584 comments...

iamrebeccad: stunning!!

ynalexchild: insane picture choice

ynftalex: damn girl can you fight (or share him)

yourusername: guess I'll have to fight you

ynftalex: smkfkkddk omg hii

alexandrasaintmleux: you are so pretty🔥❤️

alex_albon: "if you even care", I DO CARE

yourusername: prove it then 🤭

ynfan1: thailand looks great on you 💙

ynfan2: love you mother enjoy your vacation

alex_albon just posted.

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, williamsracing, alexandrasaintmleux and 29574 others.

alex_albon: MY GIRLFRIEND and i in Thailand💙😍.

view all the 29475 comments...

georgerussell63: looking good mate (not in a flirtatious way)

carmenmmundt: lindos!!

ynalexchil: the last picture... knowing her someone is sleeping on the couch

albonation: 💙

yourusername: that one picture.... sleep with an eye open 🔪 (i love you so much)

alex_albon: i love you more 💙

carlossainz55: enjoy vacation mate 🥂

albonfan1: amazing photos

albonfan23: is that a SNAKE

yourusername: i was very brave

williamsracing just posted.

liked by yourusername, albonfan1, alex_albon, francolapinto, ynalexchil, ynfan1, ynftalex and 294786 others.

williamsracing: and... we're back! let's push harder the rest of the season 👊💙

view all the 19473 comments...

francofiles: its always alex with the girl and franco with his mate 🧉

yourusername: that's franco's gf put some respect on it's name

alex_albon: love to be back and with the best company 💙

yourusername: such a sweetheart, who would've thought??

alex_albon: im always a sweetheart with u 🙄

francolapinto: get a room

alex_albon: get a girlfriend

yourusername: CASE CLOSED

alex_albon just posted.

liked by yourusername, francolapinto, williamsracing and 29348 others.

alex_albon: second half of the season with the sweetest thing that ever happened to me 💙

view all the 28488 comments...

francolapinto: it's nauseous atp

yourusername: at this point I think you're jealous. sorry he's not SOLTERO (single) for you. francolapinto: where did you learn that word? yourusername: I have my secret contact

francolapinto: who? google translator?

yourusername: rude😔

yourusername: love you my sweet potato 💙

❤ liked by alex_albon

ynalexchild: parents

chloealbon: miss you two💙

yourusername: we miss too sweet angel❤

albonfan1: good luck alex!

yourusername just posted.

liked by alex_albon, jennaortega, ynupdates and 56987 others.

yourusername: having fun working while my boyfriend goes to war (racing fast cars). #anora

view all the 21483 comments...

ynupdates: oh...

ynalexchild: ANOTHER PRESS TOUR, booked and busy 💅

alex_albon: I like your necklace 😍

yourusername: im not wearing any necklace....

yourusername: wait...

yourusername: ALEXANDER ALBON!?

alex_albon: 🙈😻

ynalexchild: these two are crazy

carmenmmundt: im gonna steal you from him

yourusername: let's runaway together

williamsracing just posted.

liked by alex_albon, yourusername, francolapinto, georgerussell63 and 234596 others.

williamsracing: what a rough season it was. time to rest a bit, see you soon 💙

view all the 35876 comments...

yourusername: rest well admin💙

williamsracing: thank you queen!!

alex_albon: let's go team💙

williamsracing: see u soon albono

francolapinto: thank you team for all these races, my dream come true. vamos williams carajo! 💙

williamsracing: gracias franco, vamos!💪

alex_albon just posted.

liked by charlesleclerc, yourusername, georgerussell63, francolapinto and 89347 others.

alex_albon: ups and downs, definitely not the season we wanted, but I'm more than proud of this team, every single person on the williams family; thank you. see you soon!

special thanks you to my lovely sunshine @.yourusername, to the moon and back baby💙🌙

view all the 12597 comments...

yourusername: forever and always proud of you💙🌙

❤ liked by alex_albon

francolapinto: thank you for this good time mate 💪

alex_albon: hope to see you very soon mate, I'll be right here 💪❤

albonfan1: proud of my team and my drivers

williamsracing: we 💙 you alex!

❤ liked by alex_albon

yourusername just posted.

liked by alex_albon, ynalexchild, williamsracing and 134597 others.

yourusername: you might know alex and I because of how much we joke around and how we're always happy or bubbling.

this season was tough, lots of ups and downs, more than you saw or think. and every time we came back stronger than ever.

that's why im so proud of you, @.alex_albon you inspire me every single day, to be stronger, confident and a better person. I love you so much.

view all the 29473 comments...

alex_albon: chat should I marry this woman?

yourusername: you're asking the people? get on your knee and ask the question coward!!

alex_albon: don't need to tell me twice 👀

ynalexchild: engagement announcement incoming lfg!!!

ynupdates: ready to update on whatever it's happening 😨

carmenmmundt: can I be the maid of honor?

yourusername: texting you the details as soon as it happens hahaha

ynhq: best actress, best girlfriend and best girl ever

williamsracing: we love youuuuu

yourusername: love you too admin💙

[feedback it's appreciated ❤] - 7/01/25.

[frillydolle]

sevika and reader shopping tgt? fluffy n cutesy!!

sevika x hyperfem reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ sorry this is soo super short:(

it was funny. seeing a big, strong, and stern faced woman carrying the shopping bags that belong to her loving smaller girlfriend. the bags were in pretty colours, contrast to the darker clothes sevika was wearing while u were dressed in all pink!

“sevi!!! can we get this? this is so cute, and it'll look so good on you! look, we could match!”

“sev, that would so suit you! should get it.”

“do you think this would look cute on me, 'vika?”

she bought some of ur clothes and accessories and so bought some of hers! u were willing to lay and she declined as she wanted to pay but u were very persisted, she gave into ur pleas easily since she can't say no to that pretty face of urs any longer.

she'd give other people a slight glare if she noticed someome checking u out or looming at the two of u weirdly. people should just mind their business, right? just two girls shopping! more like a couple shopping together, even if u could barely keep ur hands off her. u always had a hold of her hand or ur arm was wrapped around her thick arm.

the two of u went from store to store, noodle place to cheesecake place, clothing to jewellery... she even sat with u while u got ur nails done as u yapped away, and she was listening. and now, your nails were two colours, ur favourite and hers, and of course, u would do such a thing, u were such a sweetheart. this was probably the best day u have ever had with her!!!

“we soo need to get this!! it'll so good in the kitchen.” “... does look good, sweet girl.”

and soon, the two of u were on ur way back home. she's carrying u bridal style back to the car since u mentioned once that ur toes hurt and being the kind woman she was with u, she didn't want u to be in such pain:( she's such a sweetheart with u.

she shut the car door for u before she made her way to the driver seat.

“today was so fun, sevi! im super glad that u got to spend time with me.” since u knew she was always busy, but not sure with what. that was a mystery that u didn't pry about. it was none of ur business and she was glad that u respected her boundaries about such things.

“of course, sweetheart. wouldn't miss your happiness for the world.”

[thecurioustale]

First-person stories are a great format that could use an ad council or something!

It's not a point of view that shows up often. I think its minority status has become even more pronounced in recent years, one of the primary victims of the shift from past-tense to present-tense fiction and the rise of second-person "dungeon master" styles of storytelling. But first-person was never the most popular narrative point of view in fiction, as fiction originally evolved around the conceit of the chronicle and was necessarily third-person except insofar as the narrator was involved in the account. The innovation of a first-person fictional story whose narrator is a fictional character and not connected to the author in any way was a real step forward in human storytelling.

Why? Because the first-person point of view is extremely fresh and intimate. The most recent comment in this thread insinuates that first-person stories are "not about you" (second-person ones are), but this is not correct. Second-person stories are to you and for you (with "you" usually being you personally, though cleverer authors can still do characters this way), but there is virtually no overlap between the narrator and you as the reader. They are not "about" "you." The first-person perspective really is, by far, the best-suited perspective for temporarily inhabiting another character. (Second-person is probably the worst point of view for that, so much so that it, to build on what I was just saying in the previous aside, in the hands of able storytellers the second-person is often used as a tool to develop a character purely through indirect means, i.e. "I wonder who this person is that the narrator is speaking to.")

The point the OP is making (in expressing their surprise) is that some people can't do this. They don't "inhabit another character," i.e. experience the world from that character's point of view for a while, when they read a first-person story; rather, they take themselves into that character and make of it a vessel for themselves. It is a failure of imagination and an inability to shed ego and empathize.

And it is apparently pretty common. This is why, after all, video game protagonists are so often blandly generic and sometimes even mute. They are explicitly meant to serve as vessels for the audience rather than as independent characters whom the audience might inhabit. This is done by people who know something of the world of marketability, and who presumably know that there are a lot of people like this out there.

It's very strange to someone like me (and also to the OP, by their reaction). I have no problem at all inhabiting other characters through a first-person point of view without my own self getting in the way of the authenticity of the experience whatsoever. Moreover, I tend not to be very interested in those bland, generic, deliberately blank "vessel" protagonists—like Link or Chrono, etc., where everyone around them is talking all the time, and has strong opinions, etc., even as they themselves never say anything. (You don't see this "silent protagonist" as often in books (as opposed to video games), presumably because it can't be done without trivializing the narrator's status as a character in a way that the medium of video games does not permit due to the primacy of gameplay mechanics in the overall experience.) On the contrary, first-person narratives, for me, tend to be the most effective when the protagonist is strongly characterized, with lots of substance to inhabit.

I'm not sure whether this reflects a fundamental difference in how I visualize and experience stories versus how some other people do it, or if it's a matter of degrees of awareness and control over vs. helplessness against one's own ego.

What I do know is that first-person stories have an acclimatization period for me, at the very beginning. Partly this is because they're so uncommon, but partly it's because they're just so much more raw and vivid by virtue of that first-person perspective. It's very immersive. It also, as a side benefit, cuts through a lot of the intrinsic clunkiness of third-person limited closeups, allowing prose to be more economical and incisive. I'm almost tempted to say that, for the stories which support a first-person point of view, it's objectively the better perspective in cases where a narrative is built around a small number of POV characters (one being ideal). I'm writing such a story myself on the back burners and it stands in impressive contrast, in terms of fluidity and agility, to my third-person work exclusively centered on Cherry in the Galaxy Federal Inaugural Novel.

One thing I will say: We don't put enough thought, I think, into narrative point of view and the verb tenses of the storytelling. All of them are valid; I'm not saying otherwise; but many stories would be better off with a particular combination.

(As far as my editorial opinion goes: Among tenses, past tense is usually best because present tense closes off a lot of narrative flexibility (as the narrator does not know how the story will unfold or end without breaking grammatical logic, and therefore cannot provide any retrospective contextualization or framing). Among perspectives, I think first-person deserves a lot more attention than it gets, and third-person omniscient after that. (Whereas third-person limited and second-person tend to be overused.))

wait do people read first person stories and think they're the ones in the story???

Saw people talking about not liking first person, which is fair, but their reasoning was like "I would not do that" and I don't understand that mindset.

First person stories are still about a character. A character making their own decisions. First person isn't about you???? At least I thought it wasn't. What am I missing? I've always seen first person as just a more in-depth look into a character's mind and stricter POV. Not as a reader stand-in.

[cerise-angel]

moody

soft!rafe cameron x fem reader

i guess im kinda obsessed with him now :(

smut. lame plot, probably too ooc!rafe and established relationship!

"rafe can you please turn the volume down?" you ask in a grumpy tone, it's the third time you ask. he finally appears in the small kitchen of the chalet, sporting a cute christmas sweater and what seems hot chocolate on his hands. before you can even scowl at him, his hands smooth their way to your waist, hugging your tightly against his chest. "hey baby." he presses a kiss to your temple. "want some?" he brings the mug closer to your face. you shake your head no, and he chuckles lightly. "so moody today." you scoff and roll your eyes. "i'm not moody. the TV is giving me headache and this fucking focaccia dough is not right" you say completely exasperated. rafe cant help but smile at you, thinking your fight with the dough quite cute. it's the first time you both spend time in the pretty vacation chalet he bought recently. it's snowing too, something that doesn't occur much in the obx, and you were very excited about it. you seemed very excited about everything on this vacation, and rafe knows too much excitement sometimes ends up making you anxious. he's pretty sure you need to relax and enjoy the tv and spiked hot chocolate with him, but he also knows how much you want to try this recipe (you've been babbling about it and showing him the tiktok for almost a week now) and being the perfectionist you are, it needs to work out in your first try. he sighs a little, hands coming to envelop yours "you can try again if it doesn't work out. let the dough rest baby, and come rest with me a little." you let out a small whine but stop fidgeting and rest your body against his. "okay." he smiles against your hair, dropping a kiss to your temple. "pretty girl." you almost melt because of the fondness in his tone and his touch. rafe waits for you to wash your hands and offers you the snowflake themed dish cloth.

rafe's hands come back to your waist, leading towards the big bedroom. he's smirking, about to say some indecency, you're sure, but you prevent it by turning in his embrace and pecking his lips. he smiles lovingly and you both lay on the bed, cuddling. rafe wraps his arm on your waist pulling you closer to him. "no." you mutter without actual intention, a soft teasing smile behind your words. "no?" he's already engulfing your face with small kisses, his big hands holding your pretty face on place. "so stressed, yeah baby?" you have a little pout on your mouth that he kisses right away. you pull him in, tasting cinnamon in his teeth and wrapping your arms on his torso. you feel rafe smiling while kissing you deeper, adjusting his body so he can slot himself between your thighs. he pulls away slightly, giving a firm squeeze on your upper thigh. "yes." you mutter on his chest and he smiles, gently squeezing your cheeks in one hand. he kisses you again, slow and needy and your body melts against his. he pulls the heavy lilac duvet on top of your bodies, pressing himself against you fully. you sigh while kissing him, feeling too warm all over. rafe likes to have you under him, it's probably his favorite thing in the world. smoothly as always, his hand creep up against your boobs and he smiles wickedly. "where the fuck is your bra huh?" you whine because he is pawning your chest and lifting your blouse to kiss your perky nipple. "shut up." but he doesn't stop. "what your family would think about this? can't believe you've been dangling yourself half naked in front of me all day long" his voice is muffed since he's face is under your blouse and you laugh. he emerges from under your blouse and under the duvet to give you the cheekiest smile before disappearing to kiss your exposed flesh again. you can't stop yourself from rolling your hips against him and he hums in appreciation.

rafe knows you're almost desperate, so he pulls your yoga pants down while you fumble with his belt. the pout on your lips comes back because you couldn't get it out in a second, making him chuckle. he guides your hands to remove his belt and push his trousers down. you're eager to have him, clinging to his body like a vice, legs and arms wrapping against his torso. "thought you had no panties too." he murmurs on your lips, and you roll your eyes. rafe cups your pussy, letting out a small whine at how warm you feel. you whine too, rocking your hips against his palm. "slow down princess." you're about to complain, but he pulls your panties to the side, then circles your clit, one, two, three times before sliding his finger in. the moan he lets out is pornographic. "fuck if i knew you'd be this wet would've fucked you sooner" he adds a new finger and you cry out "this why you've been moody all day yeah? been needy all day fuck" you can only nod and whine and he can't help but moan while smiling a little mean, completely dazed by lust and how pretty you look under him. your hands reach down to his boxers, trying to get it out in a hurry. he decides to help you, lifting his hips up and then pulling your panties down too. rafe barely lets you register before he is fully slotted inside you, your moans and his gasps covering each other. he kisses you while fucking you, connected minds and bodies and lips.

his mouth descends on a journey of kissing and sucking on your neck and you grab his back with so much strength you think you might leave marks as he does to you. the thought makes you even wetter. rafe comes back to your mouth, pressing his lips sloppily against you. he's panting and not talking and you know he's about to cum. when you start to kiss below his ear, the spot that always makes him see stars, he whines. "no, want you first." you pull back to look at him with a puzzled expression, the best you can manage since your body is too focused on the in and out of his cock. he sighs, slows down a bit, with punctual deep thrusts that make your whole body convulse. his hand snakes its way to your chest, fondling one of your boobs nicely, and then pulling one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. the new angle, the added stimulation and the slow but hard thrusts are enough to have you mewling against him.

you mutter his name over and over and he smirks, heading down to take one of your nipples on his mouth. he nips the flesh of you boob and gets back to sucking and you cum all over him without any warning. he feels your body spasming under him, your cunt clenching and he slows down, bringing his lips to yours. "fucking perfect." you have a dazed smile on your face and you nod at him, hands pulling him even closer. you kiss and lick his neck and he starts to pump faster inside you again, chasing him own release. you enjoy it anyway kissing and moaning and rocking your hips to his. you blow air below his ear and he shudders. "keep teasing like that and you'll see" you giggle and keep your mouth on the spot leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. "fucking hell i can't-" he's whining now and you know he's close. with a few more sloppy rolls of hips he comes undone, pulling out to paint your lower abdomen with his cum. he colapses on top of you. when you both regain your breath he rests his head on your chest, your hands cradling his face.

"all relaxed now baby?" you nod. "just sticky. clean me up." rafe rolls his eyes, biting the flesh under your boob lovingly. "you´re never satisfied, are you? jesus, so spoiled" you giggle and nod, knowing full well it's his fault that you're like this. "say you love me first." you roll your eyes now. he bites you again. "c'mon. i'm waiting." you lock eyes with him, pulling his face closer to yours again. "love you rafe." you peck his lips while he smiles.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Brave Little Toaster

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

The AI bubble is the new crypto bubble: you can tell because the same people are behind it, and they're doing the same thing with AI as they did with crypto – trying desperately to find a use case to cram it into, despite the yawning indifference and outright hostility of the users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This week on the excellent Trashfuture podcast, the regulars – joined by 404 Media's Jason Koebler – have a hilarious – as in, I was wheezing with laughter! – riff on this year's CES, where companies are demoing home appliances with LLMs built in:

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-hgi6c-179b908

Why would you need a chatbot in your dishwasher? As it turns out, there's a credulous, Poe's-law-grade Forbes article that lays out the (incredibly stupid) case for this (incredibly stupid) idea:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bernardmarr/2024/03/29/generative-ai-is-coming-to-your-home-appliances/

As the Trashfuturians mapped out this new apex of the AI hype cycle, I found myself thinking of a short story I wrote 15 years ago, satirizing the "Internet of Things" hype we were mired in. It's called "The Brave Little Toaster", and it was published in MIT Tech Review's TRSF anthology in 2011:

http://bestsf.net/trsf-the-best-new-science-fiction-technology-review-2011/

The story was meant to poke fun at the preposterous IoT hype of the day, and I recall thinking that creating a world of talking appliance was the height of Philip K Dickist absurdism. Little did I dream that a decade and a half later, the story would be even more relevant, thanks to AI pump-and-dumpers who sweatily jammed chatbots into kitchen appliances.

So I figured I'd republish The Brave Little Toaster; it's been reprinted here and there since (there's a high school English textbook that included it, along with a bunch of pretty fun exercises for students), and I podcasted it back in the day:

https://ia803103.us.archive.org/35/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212_Brave_Little_Toaster.mp3

A word about the title of this story. It should sound familiar – I nicked it from a brilliant story by Tom Disch that was made into a very weird cartoon:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8C_JaT8Lvg

My story is one of several I wrote by stealing the titles of other stories and riffing on them; they were very successful, winning several awards, getting widely translated and reprinted, and so on:

https://locusmag.com/2012/05/cory-doctorow-a-prose-by-any-other-name/

All right, on to the story!

One day, Mister Toussaint came home to find an extra 300 euros' worth of groceries on his doorstep. So he called up Miz Rousseau, the grocer, and said, "Why have you sent me all this food? My fridge is already full of delicious things. I don't need this stuff and besides, I can't pay for it."

But Miz Rousseau told him that he had ordered the food. His refrigerator had sent in the list, and she had the signed order to prove it.

Furious, Mister Toussaint confronted his refrigerator. It was mysteriously empty, even though it had been full that morning. Or rather, it was almost empty: there was a single pouch of energy drink sitting on a shelf in the back. He'd gotten it from an enthusiastically smiling young woman on the metro platform the day before. She'd been giving them to everyone.

"Why did you throw away all my food?" he demanded. The refrigerator hummed smugly at him.

"It was spoiled," it said.

#

But the food hadn't been spoiled. Mister Toussaint pored over his refrigerator's diagnostics and logfiles, and soon enough, he had the answer. It was the energy beverage, of course.

"Row, row, row your boat," it sang. "Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, I'm offgassing ethelyne." Mister Toussaint sniffed the pouch suspiciously.

"No you're not," he said. The label said that the drink was called LOONY GOONY and it promised ONE TRILLION TIMES MORE POWERFUL THAN ESPRESSO!!!!!ONE11! Mister Toussaint began to suspect that the pouch was some kind of stupid Internet of Things prank. He hated those.

He chucked the pouch in the rubbish can and put his new groceries away.

#

The next day, Mister Toussaint came home and discovered that the overflowing rubbish was still sitting in its little bag under the sink. The can had not cycled it through the trapdoor to the chute that ran to the big collection-point at ground level, 104 storeys below.

"Why haven't you emptied yourself?" he demanded. The trashcan told him that toxic substances had to be manually sorted. "What toxic substances?"

So he took out everything in the bin, one piece at a time. You've probably guessed what the trouble was.

"Excuse me if I'm chattery, I do not mean to nattery, but I'm a mercury battery!" LOONY GOONY's singing voice really got on Mister Toussaint's nerves.

"No you're not," Mister Toussaint said.

#

Mister Toussaint tried the microwave. Even the cleverest squeezy-pouch couldn't survive a good nuking. But the microwave wouldn't switch on. "I'm no drink and I'm no meal," LOONY GOONY sang. "I'm a ferrous lump of steel!"

The dishwasher wouldn't wash it ("I don't mean to annoy or chafe, but I'm simply not dishwasher safe!"). The toilet wouldn't flush it ("I don't belong in the bog, because down there I'm sure to clog!"). The windows wouldn't retract their safety screen to let it drop, but that wasn't much of a surprise.

"I hate you," Mister Toussaint said to LOONY GOONY, and he stuck it in his coat pocket. He'd throw it out in a trash-can on the way to work.

#

They arrested Mister Toussaint at the 678th Street station. They were waiting for him on the platform, and they cuffed him just as soon as he stepped off the train. The entire station had been evacuated and the police wore full biohazard containment gear. They'd even shrinkwrapped their machine-guns.

"You'd better wear a breather and you'd better wear a hat, I'm a vial of terrible deadly hazmat," LOONY GOONY sang.

When they released Mister Toussaint the next day, they made him take LOONY GOONY home with him. There were lots more people with LOONY GOONYs to process.

#

Mister Toussaint paid the rush-rush fee that the storage depot charged to send over his container. They forklifted it out of the giant warehouse under the desert and zipped it straight to the cargo-bay in Mister Toussaint's building. He put on old, stupid clothes and clipped some lights to his glasses and started sorting.

Most of the things in container were stupid. He'd been throwing away stupid stuff all his life, because the smart stuff was just so much easier. But then his grandpa had died and they'd cleaned out his little room at the pensioner's ward and he'd just shoved it all in the container and sent it out the desert.

From time to time, he'd thought of the eight cubic meters of stupidity he'd inherited and sighed a put-upon sigh. He'd loved Grandpa, but he wished the old man had used some of the ample spare time from the tail end of his life to replace his junk with stuff that could more gracefully reintegrate with the materials stream.

How inconsiderate!

#

The house chattered enthusiastically at the toaster when he plugged it in, but the toaster said nothing back. It couldn't. It was stupid. Its bread-slots were crusted over with carbon residue and it dribbled crumbs from the ill-fitting tray beneath it. It had been designed and built by cavemen who hadn't ever considered the advantages of networked environments.

It was stupid, but it was brave. It would do anything Mister Toussaint asked it to do.

"It's getting hot and sticky and I'm not playing any games, you'd better get me out before I burst into flames!" LOONY GOONY sang loudly, but the toaster ignored it.

"I don't mean to endanger your abode, but if you don't let me out, I'm going to explode!" The smart appliances chattered nervously at one another, but the brave little toaster said nothing as Mister Toussaint depressed its lever again.

"You'd better get out and save your ass, before I start leaking poison gas!" LOONY GOONY's voice was panicky. Mister Toussaint smiled and depressed the lever.

Just as he did, he thought to check in with the flat's diagnostics. Just in time, too! Its quorum-sensors were redlining as it listened in on the appliances' consternation. Mister Toussaint unplugged the fridge and the microwave and the dishwasher.

The cooker and trash-can were hard-wired, but they didn't represent a quorum.

#

The fire department took away the melted toaster and used their axes to knock huge, vindictive holes in Mister Toussaint's walls. "Just looking for embers," they claimed. But he knew that they were pissed off because there was simply no good excuse for sticking a pouch of independently powered computation and sensors and transmitters into an antique toaster and pushing down the lever until oily, toxic smoke filled the whole 104th floor.

Mister Toussaint's neighbors weren't happy about it either.

But Mister Toussaint didn't mind. It had all been worth it, just to hear LOONY GOONY beg and weep for its life as its edges curled up and blackened.

He argued mightily, but the firefighters refused to let him keep the toaster.

#

If you enjoyed that and would like to read more of my fiction, may I suggest that you pre-order my next novel as a print book, ebook or audiobook, via the Kickstarter I launched yesterday?

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

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

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/08/sirius-cybernetics-corporation/#chatterbox

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[bunni-v1]

Bunni that lighter x virgin reader was so GOOD??? YOUR BRAIN SO BIG?? it got me all embarrassed reading it, I had to take breaks in between cause the image of soft dom lighter is just so abgssngausgahstshh???? (I was also blasting ‘Like You Mean’ It by Steven Rodriguez when I was reading ur fic like oh god this song fits lighter so much 😳)

Aaaanyways I was wondering if you have any hcs for the day after lighter takes readers first time or any after care that he’d do? Also bit of a tangent but do you think lighter is the type to have cheesy nicknames for his partner like idk…sugar? Pumpkin? Or would he go the normal babe and doll type

Sorry it’s a bit long, I’m just happy to see lighter writers you all are a blessing thank you for the food 🤲🏼

🍓Hello lovely! Sorry I took so long to get to this, I'm p sure the hype around that fic is over, but this has been on my mind for so long and I just haven't had the motivation. I got some now, though, so here it is! (this is less headcannons and more a whole fic in bulletpoints lol) I hope you enjoy <3

TW: Day after; Alludes to previous sexual intercourse; Grammar Errors

Info: Lighter x Reader; Fluff; Headcannons

-You wake up to sunlight filtering in through the small crack between Lighters blinds, the warmth on your face a kindness that calls you to stir to life. There's a heavy weight across your middle and on your chest, accompanied by a different type of warmth -- human warmth.

-Your eyelids flutter open and, of course, you see your beloved partner Lighter curled up into your chest. He looked so peaceful resting like this, like all his worries had melted away from his mind and into the sheets until he woke up.

-You bring your hands up to play with his fluffy hair, smiling when he huffs a bit in his sleep, burrowing himself further into your chest if that is possible. Even in sleep he was trying to find ways to get you closer to him...

-Though he'd technically gotten you as close as possible last night if the dull ache inside you was telling enough. You could feel the sting in your hips already, and you would certainly limp a little when you got up, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

-His green eyes blink up at you after a while of playing with his hair, foggy and glazed from sleep. He still finds it in himself to smile affectionately at you, and you can't help but smile back.

-"G'morning beautiful," He rumbles out, voice rough from his moaning last night, "Sleep well?"

-You nod at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his puffy lips in appreciation. That was answer enough for him and he lifted his weight off you in favor of leaning over you.

-He asks you if you're aching anywhere, and promptly massages your hips with the calloused pads of his fingers. The friction still surprisingly pleasant, and the ache in your hips eases up a little. It warms your heart, the amount of care he treats you with.

-He'll coo at you sweetly as he tries his best to ease the pain, mumbling about how much he enjoyed last night. How pretty you are. How much he loves you. How grateful he is you trusted him. All the sweet nothings.

-He takes the morning uncharacteristically slow, having been excused by Caesar apparently, or so he claims. He lazes around with you, happy just to have you in his arms for a while. You do, however, have to get up at some point which he grumbles about when you move to roll out of the sheets.

-You were right about the ache in your hips, you end up limping your way to the shower, and standing for the duration of it sucks. Lighter offers to help you out, but you insist on doing it by yourself (you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself if you'd let him).

-Instead, you let him pick out some old clothes of his to wear, since yours don't exactly smell the best at this point. A too big t-shirt and a pair of sweats that no longer fit him find their way to your arms

-He waits for you patiently, like a puppy locked away from its owner during work hours. It's very cute. He's dressed now, cleaned up by himself while you were gone it seems. He practically leaps to greet you, pulling you into a sweet kiss. You hadn't expected him to be so clingy, but it was incredibly charming.

-He guides you carefully through Blazewood to get breakfast from Cheesetopia -- or, brunch more like it. You figured after your first time you would be a bit awkward, but Lighter didn't allow you any room for that. All was as usual, assuring you that nothing major had changed. Which, why would it have?

-Well... there was one thing...

-Caesar sat in a booth as you walked in, and the grin on her face said it all. She waved you over, and Lighter begrudgingly helped you over. You do your best to hide the limp, though it's absolutely futile with Caesars next words.

-"Have fun last night you two?" She teases, and humiliation washes over you -- Lighter's cheeks also turning a deep red, "No need to answer. We all heard you last night."

-Obviously, everyone around here knew of your relationship with Lighter... they didn't need to know the details. When you don't answer in your fluster, Caesar scoffs and waves her hands playfully. "Just kiddin', I stopped by to check up when you two disappeared. Congrats though!"

-She leaves you to eat after nearly giving you a heart attack, and you happily enjoy what you ordered. Feeling incredibly hungry after the night you had. Lighter doesn't seem to interested in his food, though. Just watching you with that same intensity from last night.

-You ask what's wrong, and he smiles wide at you, "Nothing, just admiring what's mine."

-You don't respond to that, because there's nothing you could say that's nearly as smooth as that.

Bonus:

You had me thinking about the nicknames a lot. I think that he definitely uses babe and baby the most. It's simple and easy to say, and people won't bat an eye if he calls you something like that. But he has other nicknames he uses you, some for specific situations, others just because he likes to switch it up sometimes.

Sugar is something he uses almost exclusively during sex. It's his way of coercing you into letting him take care of you, especially when you're acting all shy like it's an inconvenience. Or when you're afraid to make noise, "Lemme hear ya, Sugar~ Don't be shy~"

Darling is one that's more common to hear him throw out at random. However, it does have a specific use: scaring off other people. When someone is getting a little too friendly, he'll watch for a while until he can't bear it anymore and he has to intervene. He'll wrap his arms around you from behind, press a kiss to your temple, and ask "How're you feelin' Darlin'?" With a sharp glare at the offender

Doll is one that he likes to use to get you to squirm, almost always accompanied by a handsome grin. He uses it more to placate you when you're upset at him in a playful way. Like when his fangirls get a little too excited and upset you, he'll take your face in his hands and hum out, "Y'know they're not even half of what you're worth to me, doll. Stop your worrying."

Pumpkin I hadn't considered, but I think he uses it in private when it's just the two of you. It's a soft kind of thing he uses when you're really warming his heart. Curled up into his side half asleep, you'll hear him whisper it into the crown of your head, "I love you, Pumpkin."

[thegorillanetwork]

There's a couple things that I didn't explain because I just wanted to rattle it out and do other stuff but I'll give my explanation for things

1: my interpretation of the curse is based on the literal wording, the person with the largest sum of valuable money at their disposal. That's the only obvious bit. To make it more realistic I'd base it off asset wealth (property, companies, fancy bits etc), which is what wealthy people are actually rich in, but it just didn't flow as nice while writing.

2: the amount of money is mostly arbitrary. The rich people setting it up would be signing over full power and responsibility for however much money makes the winner the richest person in the world, essentially relieving control of any trust fund to them, temporarily. There'd also be a will to sign declaring that upon death the money immediately returns to them, thus repeating the cycle. That or the contract just expires a little bit after midnight.

3: you can't buy a car with cookie clicker money, but you can with US dollars. The idea is that they're technically able to spend it and thus are the richest person, the fact that they can't because they're a captive doesn't matter to the curse. You have the money, so you die.

4: the idea of cookie clicker players all dying off before actual billionaires is pretty funny.

That all said, I do appreciate this feedback! It's nice to have work seen and thought about, rather than leaving it to collect dust.

Today, the richest person in the world suddenly and mysteriously drops dead. Tomorrow the same thing happens. It continues every day, unexplainable and unstoppable.

[biggrimace]

A Wedding | Fred Weasley

Summary: It is the day of Fleur and Bill's wedding, and you can't help but imagine your own wedding day, feeling impatient for it to come. Unbeknownst to you, Fred feels the same way.

Warnings: Nothing really, just really sweet and fluffy

Word Count: 1441

—

It was a perfect day for a wedding. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the Weasley house was buzzing with excitement for the later events of the day. Although the house was filled with chaos, an underlying calm could be felt, as if all was forgotten about the coming war and recent losses. It was as if time had stopped, and joy had filled the world once more. You stood in the kitchen watching the men raise the tent where the wedding would be held on the lawn, smiling at the back of the man you loved who was laughing and joking with his family. You twirled the newly acquired piece of gold that wrapped around your finger, a gorgeous Dutch marquise diamond sitting in the Center. Thoughts of your own coming nuptials overtook your mind, a mix of excitement and anticipation clouding your thoughts as you watched Fred set up for the wedding.

Yn?- oh good, there you are.

You turned to the sweet shrill of Molly Weasley's voice entering the kitchen accompanied by her hurried steps.

Have you seen Fleur's bouquet? She said she asked you to fetch it?

Molly asked with a hint of frustrated anxiety. You gasped softly and turned back to the window you were daydreaming out of only moments ago. There, in a simple vase, sat the beautiful bouquet of lilies and roses, which had been enchanted with the blue butterflies of the Veela witches fluttering around it.

Oh, Merlin. I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I must’ve gotten distracted.

Your response was scattered as you quickly grabbed the bouquet. You hurried past Molly, who sighed, relieved, and up the stairs to Bill's old room to deliver the flowers. The sight of Fleur was breathtaking; you and her were quick to form a bond when Bill introduced her to the family. One that comes from the shared experience of unintentional harsh judgement from the Weasley matriarch.

You’re stunning Fleur…

You swooned as you entered the room and handed her the flowers. She smiled brightly, relief also showing in her eyes from finally having her bouquet.

Thank you, Yn. You look beautiful as well.

Both of your eyes shone with tears as you smiled and pulled each other into a gentle hug.

Are you ready?

You pulled back, holding onto her hand and shaking it with a tight, excited squeeze. Her nod was quick but there was a moment of hesitation that did not go unnoticed by you. You tilted your head and cocked your brow with a silent question.

It’s nothing… just… what if he suddenly changes his mind? You, more than anyone, know how Mrs Weasley feels about our marriage.

She said, wiping a tear from under her eye and turning her gaze to her bouquet.

The sharp sound of a tsk escaped your lips, and you rolled your eyes.

He would never. He loves you, Fleur, no matter what his mother thinks. I think he made that pretty clear.

A laugh erupted from you both at the memory of the less-than-perfect engagement announcement that took place a few months ago. Which resulted in quite the argument between her fiancé and his mother prompting you to ask Fred and George for some distraction to break it up. Long story short, Molly had become so angry with the twins for their prank that her son’s engagement was long forgotten. Your laughs died down, and a beat of silence filled the air as you smiled at one another.

He loves you, Fleur… you’re getting married today!

An excited squeal leaks from your throat, and Fleur joins in.

Thank you, yn.

You hug each other once more before a knock is heard at the door. You call for the person to come in, separating from Fleur and watching as Hermione peaks inside.

It’s time.

She calls cheerily. You and Fleur give one last glance to each other before heading down the stairs, her first and you following behind, being careful of the dress train that is bundled in your hands to ensure she doesn’t fall.

—

You sat comfortably beside Fred during the ceremony. Your legs were crossed toward him, and his hand rested on your thigh. Your arm rested looped with his, and a gentle smile lay on both of your lips. Fred had been thinking about you all day. Preparing for this wedding had only fueled his desire to be married to you. He knew from the first day he met you that he loved you, and although some thought you got engaged too young, he just did not want to live his life without you as his wife any longer. The coming war was another reason for the prompt engagement. The thought of losing you terrified him. Not only that, but the thought of you losing him without knowing just how much he loved you broke his heart. You agreed to marry after Bill and Fleur, but as he sat there, watching his brother and Fleur smiling at each other at the altar, a wicked idea crossed his mind. He turned to you, smiling with adoration at your glowing appearance and gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. Your attention was successfully drawn from the altar to him, and you met his eyes just as the minister announced it was time for the couple to exchange vows.

Please repeat after me...

The minister instructed Bill. Fred just continued to stare into your eyes as the minister spoke the vows for the groom to repeat. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the extended stare you were receiving from him. You could faintly hear the priest in the background, then just as Bill began to speak, Fred gently whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

I, Fred Weasley...

He started after gently clearing his throat, his eyes shining with mischievous happiness. You only continued to stare up in confusion at him.

Take you, yn ln, to be my wife...

Realization washed over you at what he was doing. He was marrying you. It may not be your wedding or an official ceremony, but at this moment, you and Fred were getting married. Your eyes began to mist, and your expression shifted from confusion to love. The voices of Bill and the minister suddenly became muffled as all you could focus on was Fred's gentle voice.

To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

He finished, his whispered voice cracking and a broad beaming smile spread on his face. You took a moment to compose yourself, gently wiping a fallen tear from your cheek, then met his eyes again as you heard Fleur begin to speak.

I, yn ln...

Fred began to tear up now, squeezing your leg even tighter, shifting in his seat slightly so that his full attention was on you as he fought to hold back tears.

Take you, Fred Weasley, to be my husband... To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

You finished smiling wide. A stray tear escaped Fred's eye as he looked at you, his wife. The love he felt was indescribable, and the happiness was overwhelming. You matched his smile, squeezing his bicep affectionately.

Really?

He asked, making you chuckle softly. This man couldn't believe that this was happening, that he got so lucky.

Yes, Really.

You reassured him.

By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!

The minister proudly proclaimed. Cheers from the wedding guests erupted throughout the tent, but you and Free paid no mind to it, wrapped too tightly into your own little world.

You may now kiss your bride!

The crowd stood as the Bill dripped Fleur into a loving kiss. You and Fred remained seated, and Fred was quick to react to those words, placing one of his hands on the back of your head and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Your lips moved in sync as the crowd around you cheered and celebrated, the two of you going completely unnoticed. After a long beat, Fred pulled away, staying close and looking deep into your eyes with the goofiest love-sicken smile. You were sure that yours matched.

I love you, Mrs. Weasley.

He declared quietly, in keeping with the private moment you just shared.

I love you too, Mr. Weasley.

You responded with a tear-filled giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. The two of you relishing in each other as man and wife.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

[wisteriagoesvroom]

a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.

oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.

and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.

so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.

(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)

and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!

and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.

then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???

so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.

(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)

soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.

he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.

and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.

(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)

and the rest is... well.

you know how it ends.

[loves-alibi]

john price x reader

summary: you ask John to do the last thing he’d ever want to do

tw: mention of dying in the military

*****

John Price who’s following the nasty footsteps of his family– a long line of men killed in the army, by their blind loyalty to the crown. John Price won't give up his job. John who knows that he’s not breaking the cycle– the curse. He won't suddenly be the first of many John Prices (because, of course they share a name) to see his fifties.

The same John Price who marries you. A non-military sweetheart. At first he thought you found it charming, brave of him to put his life down for the crown and for the world. You let him put a ring on your finger. You let his crew come to your intimate wedding (so intimate that your extended families aren’t invited). You let him disappear from your home for weeks on end, no contact, and welcome him back like it’s perfectly normal.

Then why are you so upset? Why are you standing before John on the morning of his deployment, tears in your eyes begging him, it’s time to retire.

He doesn't get it because it's all he's ever known. All the Prices have been cursed to ever know. You beg him to retire but you don't understand that he can't. That every fiber of his being will cease to exist if there isn't gunfire whizzing by his ear and someone calling him Captain. That John Price is fated to the same end that his father and his father before him and- hell -probably his father before him met. The Prices are simply born to serve.

He tries to help you understand. He gives you his mum's phone number, tells you to call her when you get lonely or worried on deployment. Call your mother? The woman widowed by war?

John cringes. The sun is peeking over the horizon. He needs to go and he tells you that. You crumble. Your hands tremble as they hold onto his chest, padded with layers of clothing and jackets. It's winter, when deployments are always the worst. It's only winter in half the planet, yet somehow John always ends up in the cold.

His thoughts pull him away from you, your heat, from the damp warmth of your breath to the molten tears streaking your face.

Please, John, you said, for me.

Give it up, for me.

Give up, for me.

Give up.

He leaves you for base. You whose picture John looks at a little more than usual during this deployment, and Simon Riley, who notices.

Simon Riley who sits next to John during his night watch. He pulls two cigarettes from his pocket and hands one to John, lighting it without a word. They’re in Siberia, of course. John’s been crying, but the bitter cold dries his tears before they can leave his eyes.

"Pretty bird," Simon says, gesturing his hand to the picture in John's hand. John's thumb brushes over the curve of your cheek. "Lovely bird."

John's fingers twitch, ready to refold the picture. Simon notices and places a calm hand on John's wrist.

"She's making me retire," John blurts.

"That true?" Simon muses, taking a drag like he knows it’s not. Frankly, he does know. John’s his longest friend, and Simon can read him like a book. "I didn't know that was possible, giving you orders.”

“Neither did I.”

Simon puts a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you head in? I’ll take watch.”

John goes inside wordlessly. He heads to the bathroom and in the mirror he sees the face of his father. He’s always looked scarily like his old man, down to their idiotic facial hair. John grew it out like him in his twenties, when he was finally able to grow more than pubescent scrap. Now, with a fuller beard and duller eyes, he’s more similar to his father than young John ever thought possible. His father— a man who never had the privilege of going gray. Sure, he died a few years older than John is now, but he was never exactly old. Dead at 42. John's got... 5 years left by that count. 5 more years fighting, five more years with you.

John shaves it off. He leaves his stache, but that’s about it. He doesn’t want to see the old John Price, put six feet under before his boy— his namesake —graduated primary school. His hand shakes while he shaves. He should stop. The knife he’s elected to use is too sharp to risk a case of unsteady hands, but John needs it off. And off it goes. The skin beneath the beard is paler than the rest of his face. It’d take much longer for that to go away.

Someone pounds on the door of the bathroom. “Captain,” Johnny, “I know you’re takin’ a shite, but could you hurry up?”

John chuckles softly, “Fuck off, MacTavish.”

John shuts the toilet lid with his boot and takes a seat on it. He shoves a hand in the chest pocket of his coat, to the pen with a piece of paper stuck in the clip. John carefully unfolds the paper.

Armed Forces Pension Application Form.

John clicks the pen and gets to work.

[eighthwholove]

Thanks to the lovely @silverfoxstole for tagging me!

Do you like your first name?

Yes!

2. Favorite Season and why?

I am a Nature lover, so I adore all four seasons of the year, as they offer their each, own unique beauty. Winter does make me feel moodier at times, so I do prefer a little more sunlight.

3.How many siblings do you have?

I have two- an older brother and an older sister

4. What would be your dream job?

When I was little, I wanted to be an international fashion designer. In another world, that's what I would be pursuing.

5. Favorite band/ Singer?

I like Kiss, Oasis, The Monkees, One Direction, etc. (a little bit of everything really- even classical). As for a singer, I tend to follow Louis Tomlinson's solo work.

6. Name somewhere you’d love to visit if you had the time/money/opportunity.

I hope to visit England someday.

7. Art or Science?

I love a little bit of both, but art most definitely.

8.Do you have a favourite quote from a film or tv show?

Difficult to choose, but one of my favorites is one from the BBC show "As Time Goes By."

"People don't gesture like that- not unless they have incredibly short arms."

9. Any ambitions/resolutions for 2025?

To get through some EDAS, and Audios, be a bit more organized, clean my desk, and journal more. Oh, and start another flower garden in the summer.

10.Any regrets from 2024? Things you wish you’d had time to do/see?

Can't think of any right now- pretty satisfied with what I had accomplished.

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

[madamechrissy]

Hear me out.

dom!Gojo X subfem!reader edging then overstimulation with Reader tied up, gagged and blindfolded. Make Gojo as ruthless as you want :D

Here's a little drabble! I didn't gag her bc I don't dig it much, but blinfolded/tied up and edged hehe <3 enjoy! (oh and he's yandere)

Your wrists are bound with Satoru's silky tie, and you're wearing his blindfold, as his own bright blue eyes watch you, avidly, you're wriggling, helpless, sniffling and hiccuping while he curls his fingers in your slick cunt. "Aww, something wrong, baby?" He cooes, you can't speak or function, gasping now as he laps at your clit, tongue slipping in little circles.

"Please..." Is all you manage, after he keeps getting you just close enough, but then he pulls out right when he feels those walls tighten, when he can tell you're about to cum, you try to hide it, but he yanks them out again, laughing at you.

"Do you think you deserve to cum? After flirting with that guy today?"

"I d-didn't, Satoru..." You ache to see him, to look at his eyes, he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips, starting those torturous circles on your clit again, you try to close your legs, earning Satoru yanking them apart.

"Do I need to tie these too, huh? Why do you have to be so fucking pretty, everyone looks at what's mine, should keep you tied to this bed." His words along with his fingers send you to the brink, your clit is twitching, pussy lips puffy from all the torture, he laughs then, smacking your cunt.

"Ah... f-fuck...' He's scissoring his long fingers in your slick walls again, hitting your spot and making the pressure coil in your tummy again.

"You like that idea, so slutty f'me, aren't you? Just me?"

"J-just you, Toru... ngh!" He moans as he watches his name spill from your bitten, swollen lips, smacking your pussy again, before turning his attention to your pretty tits, sucking on your nipples, leaving smacks over and over on your overheated cunt. "Just you! Swear, Toru.... ah!"

Satoru bites your nipple then, teeth sinking in, hurting so bad you scream out in pain, his fingers back against your clit again. "You say that, but baby I think I really need you to stay home, you're too pretty for the world to see, yeah? You like that idea?"

You nod, helpless for him, thighs shaking as he kisses down your tummy again, nestling his broad shoulders between your thighs, lapping up all the sweet arousal that's drooling from your hole, you are a mess, tears soaking his black blindfold now. Satoru's strong hands press into the plush of your thigh as he laps up more with the flat of his tongue, pushing you back to the edge, your entire body is wriggling, hips arching for him.

"I'll destroy the whole fucking world for you, y'know that? I'll take out anyone who even thinks of touching you." Satoru could easily do it too, you feel so much of his power then, his grip bruising, while your numb hands ache to enwrap in his silky white locks.

"I'm yours, Toru." You assure him, he needs it, he always does, he loses his sanity when it comes to you. Satoru moans, shoving your legs up then, bending you in half, cock sliding in finally, you are sobbing it feels so good, finally being filled by him, his length shoving in so deep, tip kissing your cervix. "Ah! S'much... you're s-so big..."

"Look at you, such a pretty little mess." He yanks up his blindfold then, grinning as he sees your tear glistened eyes. "You gonna be a good girl f'me?"

You nod eagerly, sniffling, finally getting to see his perfect face, his blue eyes swirling, pupils shrunk to pin points, he cups your face as he sinks inside, pressing your thighs against your breasts and putting his weight to keep you folded. He pulls out almost to the tip, making you whimper. "P-please..."

"Hah, ya thought you could cum?" He smirks now, shoving his cock back in with a snap of his hips, moving just slow enough you can't cum, you're pinned under him, helpless, gasping for breaths. "Not yet, not even close to done with you.

Hope you enjoyed bb! <3