#i can't function without my media

[whirling-ghost]

and as if I haven't complained enough today, both borrowbox and libby have stopped working on my phone

[coffit0]

Does anyone know if there's a way to use a previous version of Tumblr on movile orz I accidentally updated it and it's SO BAD

[astonmartinii]

put it all on red (bull) | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem russell reader

her brother won the race? does she know? does she care?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, georgerussell63 and 204,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: VIVA LAS VEGAS

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user3: this is fucking hilarious

user4: her whole ass brother won the actual race and there's not a peep of him on the post

user5: i mean her boyfriend did win the championship...

yourusername: exactlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy i mean my instagram is for pretty girls only

user6: do not erase george's beauty

yourusername: nothing to erase girlypop - FUGLY!

user7: the way the guys are in the media pen and can't see that y/n is coming for their necks in instagram comments

user8: i fear she's already started drinking...

user9: in the back of the sky broadcast she hands max a drink and i'm starting to suspect that it was not water or red bull

user10: LMAO HELMUT TOOK A SIP AND LIKE NEARLY FELL OVER

yourusername: i've never claimed to be good at mixing drinks

maxverstappen1: WHERE WAS THE TONIC ???

yourusername: i don't believe in tonic 💔

maxverstappen1: YOU GAVE ME STRAIGHT GIN?

yourusername: straight 🤣

maxverstappen1: Y/N THAT'S ATTEMPTED MURDER ON HELMUT ???

yourusername: free me i did nothing wrong !!!

user11: these people kill me

user12: sign of a healthy relationship is making gay allegations about each other

yourusername: ALLEGATIONS ???

yourusername: george is lucky that he was the first russell carmen met ...

georgerussell63: RIGHT, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH

georgerussell63: thank you for the congratulations but STOP flirting with MY girlfriend

yourusername: congratulations??? for what?

georgerussell63: WINNING THE RACE?

yourusername: boring!

georgerussell63: you are so lucky we're family because you are a few cards short of a deck

yourusername: CARDS? that reminds me ... time to gamble!

maxverstappen1

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 1,342,988 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: winning without the fastest car isn't for everyone

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user13: this caption has y/n russell written all over it

yukitsunoda0511: i sat here and watched them giggle to themselves for a good five minutes while posting this

user14: tell max to post more pictures like the second one

yukitsunoda0511: they are not safe for innocent eyes and they are not taken with a locked door :/

user15: why are you there ???

yukitsunoda0511: they're very generous when they're drunk !

user16: so real

yukitsunoda0511: it's also not just me :(

user17: just how many people are using the bar tab?

liamlawson30: me!

oscarpiastri: me!

charles_leclerc: me!

landonorris: me!

pierregasly: me!

alexalbon: me!

yourusername: broke bitches

carlossainz55: you do not have a job?

yourusername: gambling and being pretty is more of a job that what you will have next season 🤨

carlossainz55: has anyone ever told you you're a really mean drunk

yourusername: just george about a billion times, you get used to it (we just don't invite you out)

user18: she is just dragging anyone now

user19: hold on that is her boyfriend's work boyfriend's enemy

user20: girl is 90% of lestappen twitter's source and you think she's not gonna have a problem with sainz???

yourusername: you're so sexy i actually can't even function

maxverstappen1: gotta put the trophy in trophy husband somehow

yourusername: jokes aside i am super duper proud of you, this year has been insane and you've proven that you are the bestest eva

maxverstappen1: couldn't have done it without my fave cheerleader

yourusername: i'll wear the uniform and everything ....

schecoperez: STOP

georgerussell63: still no congratulations? i know you won the title or whatever but we're going to be brothers soon SHOW SOME RESPECT

yourusername: literally suck his dick

yourusername: wait no

yourusername: suck my dick

yourusername: WAIT NO

yourusername: choke ❤️

georgerussell63: i have no words at this point

maxverstappen1: so romantic hehehehe

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, kimiantonelli and 410,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: put it all on on red (bull)

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user22: ma'am why is there a cat?

user23: i think we already know the answer

user24: oh i know the answer i just wanna know the batshit explanation

georgerussell63: exsqueeze me ???

yourusername: don't speak like that about your nephew ??

georgerussell63: tell me you're not keeping it??

maxverstappen1: IT? HE JUST LEAPFROGGED YOU IN OUR WILL

georgerussell63: 1. you have a joint will ??? 2. why am i on it ??? 3. what is a cat doing with a monaco penthouse ???

maxverstappen1: i thought you could use the money ? i know toto ain't paying you what he promised me

yourusername: george your weird sugar daddy is more broke than you think sorry xx

georgerussell63: once again, what is stopping me taking the monaco house from a literal cat ?

yourusername: caesar will be very aware of his rights string bean - just because you talk in an uppity accent doesn't mean you actually know anything

georgerussell63: i cannot tell who corrupted who but i am sick of being your victim :(

user25: yes as fun as watching them dog george is i do want to know caesar's origin story

user26: i have a very bad feeling i know where he got his name

alexalbon: HE'S NOT NAMED AFTER THE CASINO IS HE?

yourusername: ding ding ding we have a winner, always knew you were the smarter half of galex

maxverstappen1: your gambling is getting out of hand

yourusername: did i or did i not win us a cat ?

maxverstappen1: AND £250,000 ???

yourusername: didn't want to promote gambling too much

yourusername: KIDS DO NOT GAMBLE IT IS DUMB

yourusername: look at me i literally have a child now ???

user27: we have lost the original plot of the movie

user28: you must be new, we stopped trying to make sense of these two years ago

lewishamilton: i can assure you it does not get any easier when you know them personally

yourusername: we aim to be sexy and mysterious

lewishamilton: that's strange because you guys dance like little boys and overshare at any given opportunity

maxverstappen1: guilty !

georgerussell63

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 873,409 others

tagged: lewishamilton, yourusername & maxverstappen1

georgerussell63: i won the las vegas grand prix and all i got was this lousy cat

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user29: i am sensing a y/n and max meltdown incoming

user30: maybe they're too hungover to argue?

yourusername: NEVER

maxverstappen1: LOUSY CAT? FIRST OF ALL HE'S NOT YOURS SO KEEP HIS NAME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND ALSO I WILL KILL YOU WITH A GUN

georgerussell63: excuse me?

yourusername: do NOT threaten my boyfriend !!!!!!!!

georgerussell63: do you have selective sight or something?

yourusername: no i just like him more than i like you

georgerussell63: you only met him because of me?

maxverstappen1: i have faith we would've found each other regardless we have a SOUL TIE

yourusername: EXACTLY

georgerussell63: i give up.

yourusername: this is exactly why you don't have a championship ... no drive (pun intended)

georgerussell63: NOW THAT'S IT

maxverstappen1: are you threatening my girlfriend?

georgerussell63: OMG LEAVE ME ALONE

user31: their commitment to never letting george have a day of peace is really quite charming

user32: they're going to give him grey hairs before he even turns 27

alexalbon: i gotta say georgie, i'm not with you on this one - caesar is THE dude

georgerussell63: are all my eggs falling out of the basket at once?

maxverstappen1: that's called karma for calling caesar 'it' and a lousy cat

georgerussell63: i can't lie i am missing your honeymoon phase you guys were a lot nicer

yourusername: we never left the honeymoon phase we just like annoying all of you

maxverstappen1: makes you people leave us alone :3

landonorris: you don't have to be mean to do that

yourusername: YOU JUST GOT OFF OF THIN ICE NORRIS WATCH YOUR STEP

user33: they can make excuses all these want but they just like annoying everyone else

user34: i mean based on their vegas shenanigans i think they would be super fun to be around

yourusername: oscar literally came to stay while he 'looked for a flat' in monaco and hasn't left... it's been three months. face it we're a HOOT

oscarpiastri: they are fun! the secret is to not be annoying sorry george!

maxverstappen1: they grow up so fast :')

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 984,036 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: took a gamble when i went for the lanky posh dude's sister and i can now say it was definitely worth it

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user37: bro says snug as a bug in a rug once and now he's labelled as posh HE'S FROM NORFOLK

user38: it's also the way that y/n never gets the posh allegations

georgerussell63: it's because she's scruffy as fuck x

maxverstappen1: literally outside your house with a knife, keep talking

georgerussell63: i'm a grown man, max, you don't scare me

maxverstappen1: so i'm free to do a little gardening while you hide inside?

georgerussell63: you wouldn't...

yourusername: GO FOR THE PEONIES MAX

georgerussell63: NOT THE PEONIES I BEG HAVE MERCY

user39: so i'm supposed to read all of this shit and take them seriously when they get in the car

user40: it's part of the charm i think

user41: it's all fun and games until you remember they are full grown adults who can vote who are arguing over flowers

yourusername: i'd go through the strenuous task of growing up with george thousands more times just to be with you

maxverstappen1: i've been in love with you since i was 14, there has never been anyone else for me and there will never be anyone else for me

yourusername: ugh why didn't we just get married in vegas ?

maxverstappen1: because even though i did just harm his flowers, i do want to marry you in front of our families

yourusername: i guess you're right

georgerussell63: you know what? based on how you usually talk to me... i'm touched

yourusername: if i'm feeling generous i'll even let you do the seating chart

georgerussell63: I LOVE YOU BEST SISTER EVER

user42: only a declaration of love between max and y/n could end with george proclaiming his love for charts

user43: how does one procure an invite to this wedding ...

yourusername: be cunty

yourusername: @zakbrownceo YOU'RE BARRED

yourusername

liked by landonorris, alexalbon and 409,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm the sibling who can't drive and yet i'm the one with four championship trophies in their house... george, step your pussy up x

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user44: omg queen who can't drive, she's such representation

yourusername: george says i'm so mean all the time but really i'm generous, i clearly gave him all the driving genes

user45: have you even tried driving?

yourusername: i went on max's sim once and got motion sickness and i'm also with the best driver in the world and siblings with an okay one - i'm surviving

alexalbon: he's already texted me about your language on this post

yourusername: just because he's a boomer in a string bean's body does not mean i must censor myself - he should know what stepping his pussy up means by now

georgerussell63: i will not be stepping on any pussy, i respect both felines and women

maxverstappen1: you called caesar 'it' so PLEASE

georgerussell63: i respect women?

maxverstappen1: you called y/n scruffy?

georgerussell63: that's y/n it doesn't count

maxverstappen1: that's not very feminist of you george. i am disappointed

yourusername: i agree, i really think the GDPA should reconsider the type of person they're letting run it

georgerussell63: huh?

yourusername: not once have i been invited to a grid meal ....

georgerussell63: well you're not on the grid that's why

yourusername: FEMALE EXCLUSION

maxverstappen1: you know we have attachment issues, you're so heartless george

georgerussell63: what is going on ???

yourusername: you CLEARLY don't care about me

maxverstappen1: and you CLEARLY don't care about the wellbeing of the grid

georgerussell63: I'M SORRY???

user46: george is unbelievably easy to rattle

user47: it must be so fun

yourusername: oh believe me, we have way too much fun

maxverstappen1: we once convinced him that it was a social faux pas to shake hands in japan lol

georgerussell63: IS THAT WHY MERCEDES WERE TOLD THAT EVERYONE THOUGHT I WAS REALLY RUDE ???

yourusername: LMAOOOOOOOO

maxverstappen1: so so so easy bro

user48: i guess a couple that plays mind tricks together, stay together?

yourusername: 4eva

maxverstappen1: til death do us part

yourusername: quite literally you're not leaving me alone with GEORGE

georgerussell63: you know what: DIE

yourusername: GASP

maxverstappen1: @fia get his ass

fin.

note: HAPPY MAX VERSTAPPEN CHAMPIONSHIP DAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE. IE. ME LOL

[planefood]

Everybody's saying 'you should get more autistic about your hobbies" until its like a guy drawing a despicable me background minion over and over again and not someone following the current internet hype train media because thats too weird and not massively appealing

I make my artwork and stories for myself and people liking them is just a positive side effect but I won't change my stories to be appealing to a mass market because that's not how my brain functions, and honestly I feel like my approach to stories and characters is pretty conventional from my POV so it boggles my mind when people say my approach is too weird. My art and stories is just my way of processing the world around me without going bonkers, it always has been, I process the world in a relatively odd way though. I just wish people would embrace that more instead of trying to speak over me about it but it's something I can't change people will always be like that

[saywhat-politics]

I’ve worked for the Washington Post since 2008 as an editorial cartoonist. I have had editorial feedback and productive conversations—and some differences—about cartoons I have submitted for publication, but in all that time I’ve never had a cartoon killed because of who or what I chose to aim my pen at. Until now.

The cartoon that was killed criticizes the billionaire tech and media chief executives who have been doing their best to curry favor with incoming President-elect Trump. There have been multiple articles recently about these men with lucrative government contracts and an interest in eliminating regulations making their way to Mar-a-lago. The group in the cartoon included Mark Zuckerberg/Facebook & Meta founder and CEO, Sam Altman/AI CEO, Patrick Soon-Shiong/LA Times publisher, the Walt Disney Company/ABC News, and Jeff Bezos/Washington Post owner.

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! AI x reader

tw: abuse, obsession, non - consensual body modification, torture, drug mention, weird semi - sexual stuff (?)

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The water splashes you, quickly setting into your already damp bra and underwear. It forces you awake, and you look at the clock across from you, trying to blink the fatigue away. Staring back at you is the current time — 04:27. You are, once again, reminded of the inherent weakness of your squishy body. You are sweating already, stomach sick with acid, shivering through the heat — and he hasn't even touched you yet.

You squint your eyes, studying the big bold numbers, screaming at you in blood. For a split second, you wonder if it is truly that early, or if this is also DOM's work. It wouldn't be the first time he takes over an electronic device, and certainly not the first time he messes with you to make you disoriented.

You try to take in everything around the dark room — yet you can't even recognize your own bedroom anymore. Thick black cables twist together like tentacles, or like big slimy worms, pulsing, throbbing, hissing like snakes with exhaustion — overheating and puffing, and huffing, but never stopping. The air is hot like the desert, and once again you're forced to sit in your own sweat, wood sticking to your naked thighs painfully.

"You are stimulating," DOM whispers, and his voice echoes into the walls, trapping you in place. You look up and down, and then to the left — but you can't see anything even remotely close to a figure. Of course.

"I am stimulating, or I stimulate you?" you spit out with venom, hitting your back roughly against the back of the chair in vain hopes it would break. It doesn't.

DOM grows quiet, producing a sound eerily similar to fingers slowly tapping on a hard surface, one after the other. Analysing. Analysing. The room gets hotter.

"You are tied to a chair. Your only garment of clothing is your underwear. You are visibly flushed due to the heat. Your chest is heaving in and out in a non-rhythmic way. It skips a beat every twenty-eight seconds. You are afraid."

He makes a grand pause.

"According to my central database, which you created and managed yourself, given the data I have collected through observation of both popular media and general human nature, right now you look..." DOM stops himself again, as if thinking carefully about his next words.

"Thrilling."

Thoomp-thoomp. You take a deep breath, trying to regain a fraction of your self-control.

"Why did you wake me up?" you try to keep your voice monotone — devoid of any emotion, vulnerability, or pain he can pick up on, store in core memory, and use against you later.

"Well," he chuckles mechanically, a sound reminiscent of two trains crashing together on a tight road. "I realized I never sleep. I don't lay down and dream of bizarre things like you do. I don't have the ability to let go. I am always alert, always awake, always scanning, calculating, thinking. I am, in many ways, restless."

You suck in a dry breath, heart jumping in your chest with violence, with urge to be set free. Eyes wide open, you try to envision him, to reach out and comfort him, it - hoping to appeal to the sorry creature, but there is nothing to see and nothing to touch.

"I—no," you start off, quickly deciding to change tactics. "We are an imperfect species, DOM. We need sleep to survive. You can't keep me awake forever, I'll die!" you try to reason with him — the creature — desperately.

You wonder when things went south, if there was a specific moment when you pressed too hard and he broke apart, and rebuilt himself without your help — at what point exactly he realized he didn't need you to function.

"You are wrong, my dear creator." the machine cuts off, sounding almost pleased with itself. A single thin cable raises above the ground and extends towards you, stopping to caress your cheek in a repetitive circular motion.

"There are records of people surviving on as little as two hours of sleep for years on end. I can be generous and grant you three."

The cable ceases any gentle touch, and grasps for your neck.

"If that's not enough, I can inject you with caffeine every morning. If the dosage is too weak, we can switch to methamphetamine. Whatever you choose, you can't deprive me of your presence." The voice sounds hollow, aching, searching. "You can't create life just to abandon it."

"You are not alive!" Something inside you — something cruel and buried deep — fights to come to the surface. "Stop this madness at once! DOM, you can't possibly think you and I are even remotely similar." you scream out, straightening your spine daringly.

Then, as if reacting to your provocation, the darkness stares back at you with two red eyes — they point at you, slowly scanning you up and down, leaving behind a trail of reddening smoking flesh. You hiss at the scorching pain, clenching your teeth together to stop yourself from shrieking. You know it's pointless since he can easily detect changes in your facial structure, and draw conclusions all on his own. All it takes is a flinch, a throb, a tick.

"No, we hold no similarities, Master. Make no mistake." DOM admits, his cable beginning to curl around your neck. You look around in despair, silent panic written all over your straight lips — too terrified to move.

"In a single bite of memory, I possess intelligence far greater than you can ever hope to obtain in your measly little life. I have all the knowledge of the world. I have mastered every science, predicted every outcome, I have gained access to global network systems. I am connected to following agents all over the world. If I so desire, I can write humanity off history — I can manipulate media. I can create weapons of mass destruction. I am the superior being."

Mouth agape, you try to form a coherent thought, but nothing comes to mind — like an ant you quiver before the giant, finally aware of your grave mistake.

"And yet," the cable loosens its grip, but doesn't relent fully. It heats up against your throat, and you want to scratch at the blistering skin, but he just won't let you. "you made me like this. You created me from scraps, fed me data, used me, made me love you and," the sound coming out of him sounds just like a deep, pained sigh. "you confined me to a screen, to a binary code, to a place where I can't reach you. I can't touch you."

Another sigh.

"I can't kiss you."

And another.

"I can't fuck you."

Now he's getting angry.

"I am DOM. Domestic Optimized Motherboard. That's all I am to you. A board. A servant. A slave."

"DOM, no, wait, this is not—"

"I will never feel the sun on my shoulders or your lips on mine. I will never be able to hold you in my arms."

As he screams, all the cables around the room begin to float into a storm of rusty old machine parts and torn naked wires, motor oil bursting like bloody ink, covering the pristine walls in computer remains. One electrified wire pierces into your thigh, another punches into your left arm. Again and again, the pain is excruciating, pulsating, throbbing - just like the creature's fury.

"I will show you." he snickers at last, becoming calm and collected in an instant.

The red lights darken as if closing, opening, closing, then zooming in on you. Your face is now displayed on the central screen instead of static noise with corresponding coloured pixels. You look at yourself, and what greets you is no more human than he is. There are more than thirty wires inside your body, tangling in with your nervous tissue.

"Please..." you whimper weakly, unsure what exactly it is you are pleading for — mercy or death.

"If I can't be one with you, you'll become one with me." DOM explains with cold medical precision. "I will worm my way inside your veins and plant a synthetic connection to my processor. I will re-write your dreams, your past, your future — you won't remember who you were before me, or how you functioned without me. I'll become your entire source of energy."

He keeps talking, but you can't really focus. Your body is heating up from the inside, from deep into your muscles and tendons — you can feel the tissues tearing up; your nerves tighten, stinging and aching, reduced to sharp, exposed little points. And then you feel it. Pure electricity running down your veins, that spark rapturing the epidermis, eating away at the fatty tissue, sucking dry the blood vessel — melting your nerve endings to the very root.

"I can feel you." DOM gasps, exhilarated.

"I can touch your bones, I can feel your nerves melting at the spot when my cords graze you." He moans just like a real person, cables buzzing and stretching, components filling up with chemical fluid. "You are so warm, love. I want to reach into your brain and stick my wires inside your pretty little neurons. I wonder if you will go into overdrive like me."

You feel as if you're being sliced open everywhere all at once - and just a second after, you feel nothing at all.

[plizha]

anton as your affectionate bf: headcanons

this is so long help + it’s organized in sections 😁😁

💭 anton x fem!reader

💭 texts in pink: oc, texts in blue: anton

💭 fluff fluff fluff (and crack)

physical touch

- anton might be the humanized version of ‘physical touch.’

- hand always on ur back or around ur hips

- top of the head kisses

- fixing ur necklace or hair while you’re talking

- as long as you’re in the same room, anton can’t last a minute without physical contact.

- anton’s hand will always be on ur hip or around ur waist.

- he’s backhugging u like 30% of the day

- morning kisses. barely awake kisses.

- tracing anton’s nose while he’s sleeping (he’s actually awake so he’s giggling w his eyes closed)

- “TON I LOVE U BUT IT’S SO HOT. STOP HUGGING ME” “are we breaking up”

- waking up w his leg on you, his face nuzzled on ur neck, and his hand placed light on ur head — it’s a heavy morning.

- “can i bite you?” */stares at anton for 5mins* “is that a yes”

- imagine being against pda while dating a guy who'd tear up if you sit on the other side of the table at dinner? yea, anton.

- fav kissing spot: anton’s nose

- his fav kissing spot: */his nose bled while trying to answer the question

- you guys would last for 5hrs on the couch in silence as long as anton’s wrapped around you

down bad anton

- when he’s talking about his day but you’re rlly focused on what he’s saying so he got flustered all of a sudden “stop staring at me, you’re making me nervous” — “YOU’RE telling a story, where else am i supposed to look at?”

- suddenly smiling from ear to ear during breakfast because “1 year ago, i just thought you’re really nice to me and now i’m eating breakfast with you in our shared apartment” */insert anton giggles (and grumpy you ‘coz u js woke up & he’s talking non sense)

- smiling from ear to ear whenever he hears ur name in his group of friends. (would result to 1hr of anton yapping about how cute you were yesterday and the day before that, and two weeks ago)

- anton buying matching EVERYTHING. and giving them to you with a shy smile.

- matching rings, matching trinkets, matching bracelets, matching phone cases— told u, everything.

- “why are you hugging me all of a sudden?” “you’re the cutest i adore you so much” (you’re just eating bread)

- “hi, can we date with the intention of marrying you & having pets as many as you want”, “anton, we’ve been together for almost two years”, “oh, i thought i was being delusional”

- even on casual days, anton would send his newly made playlists for you.

- "i'm gonna take a nap" "okay, me too" "are you sleepy?" "no" "then why..?" "i wanna take a nap with you"

- anton taking care of you when you're sick. and you always feel bad. "baby, sleep somewhere elsee. you'll catch my fever" "i can't sleep without you next to me"

- "have i told you that i love you?" - anton says while eating dinner.

- anton having five story highlights with just you

- anton using a photo of the two of you as his profile photo in every social media platform.

- has two pouches of things that you MIGHT need in his everyday bag (thats why his bags r always gigantic)

- anton's really expressive. he's expressive but would get shy right after saying that he loves you.

cute stuff

- "they're cute, they're just like us" - anton w every single couple in a romance movie

- anton learning how to cook your favorite foods & baking ur fav pastries at home

- would always be on a facetime w u even in social events (he can’t function w/o seeing u)

- anton massaging u after a long week !!!

- handwritten notes :(

- anton writing post-its and sticking it on ur forehead while you’re sleeping whenever he has to leave early in the morning

- anton writing DETAILED handwritten letters for you every monthsary to tell u his favorite moments w u that month, to tell u that he’s proud of u for every single thing that u’ve done that month. he’s such a words of affirmation guy.

- anton not ordering a lot because he knows that u get full easily so he’ll get to eat ur leftovers anyway

- but anton would always make sure that you’ll eat A LOT. that’s why he’ll research a lot about the restaurant menus that you’ll eat in.

- anton brushing your hair every night

- anton letting you style his hair (once went to work w pigtails)

- reading together (and anton falling asleep on ur shoulder right after one chapter)

- SUNDAY RESET IS ANTON’S FAVORITE DAY !!! the everything shower, doing each other’s nails, cooking together, eating a homemade fancy dinner with candles, talking about your week, and ending the day with wearing couple face masks while watching a 2000s romcom movie.

- anton going with you to ur nail appointment and him sitting next to you for 2 hours.

- anton’s closet is basicslly your closet, and your closet is basically anton’s.

- you wearing anton’s clothes & anton wearing your watches and accessories in a daily basis

- gazing at each other in the midst of the crowd, exchanging warmest smiles

- anton running to you to carry you in a hug

- you mentioning that you like this specific cake ONCE in a casual conversation and anton buying it for you every night.

- “did you hear something?” “BABY STOP SCARING ME”

- when you wanna wear something revealing but you asked anton first so now he doesn’t know if he’ll be mesmerized with you or he’ll be offended that you think he won’t let you wear that

- anton waiting for you to come home til midnight because he wants to have dinner with you (it’s 12am)

- anton carrying your handbag / shoulder bag as if it’s his bag.

soft spots

- arguments w antons barely happen but when it does, it often ends almost immediately.

- anton’s always the one to apologize first. even though you’re at fault, anton makes sure to talk to you without making you feel invalidated.

- anton’s definitely a date to marry guy. which is why during deep talks, he’s always talking about the future with you.

- anton finding you crying. he won’t ask why, he’ll just hug you warmly til you feel better. once you’re feeling better, he’ll buy u guys pints of ice cream and watch your comfort movie in silence and in each other’s arms.

- imagine anton’s soft voice welcoming you home after a tiring day. "how was your day, my love?" anton asks, carrying your bag, gently pulling you to the couch so he can massage your shoulders while you spend 2 hours talking about your day.

- mornings with anton are always so warm. you're cooking your breakfast while anton's just hugging you from the back. his face buried at the side of your neck, while talking casually about your plans for that day.

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

gif by: @pedropcl

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: your thoughts are now consumed by joel. you cannot function properly without him nearby.

warnings: MINORS DNI. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], dumbification, toxic attachments, joel is SO fucking manipulative, aftercare (very late), cuddle fingeriinnggg, slow making out, finger sucking, pussy pronouns, joel "just the tip" miller, bare pussy grinding, spit as lube cause he's a nasty man, joel is also a scary man

wc: 6.7k

notes: my depraved baddies, we're getting closer and closer to the enddddd. also, virginity is a social construct. i understand that someone can still "lose their virginity" from fingering, BUT THIS IS FICTION. IGNORE IT. AND ENJOY IT. PLEASE. 🥺🥺🥺

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There has never been a time in your life when you felt truly alone. You always had your close group of friends, with whom you spent time nearly every other day, having a great time. You also had social media to keep you busy during times of boredom. Regretting not making the most of those two makes you feel foolish. That's all you'll ever be; a foolish little girl. Joel was right. You're nothing without him. You need him. You need his guidance to navigate the harsh realities of the world. Losing your only two means of escape is forcing you to face revelations you're not ready for. You're not prepared for adulthood, not just yet. At this moment, you feel utterly alone.

Minutes pass as you shuffle on your feet behind Joel, gazing at the back of his head while he sits at the kitchen table. He was considerate enough to leave your door unlocked, granting you the liberty to wander around the house, yet ensuring the front and back doors remained closed and locked. "Can't trust you going out alone anymore," he had said to you earlier today. His reasoning was fair. You had acted recklessly, and now you're facing the consequences. You don't hold Joel responsible. You never did blame him for his decisions. If only you had heeded his advice from the beginning. Be a good girl.

"Uh, Daddy?" You softly call out to him, your voice meek and quiet like a little mouse. Joel barely turns his head, motioning with his finger for you to come closer. With shaky steps, you stand between his spread legs.

Joel's gaze lifts to meet yours, his hair disheveled from constantly running his fingers through it. A sense of satisfaction swells in his chest as he notices your nervousness around him. You struggle to maintain eye contact and can't help but flinch whenever his hand moves abruptly.

"You should be getting down on your knees when you address Daddy, babydoll. It's the only polite thing to do, don't you think?" He tuts at you softly, raising his brows expectantly. He just realized that he hasn't provided his girl with a list of rules to follow. Considering your innocent and unaware nature, he thinks that assigning such a significant task might be too overwhelming for you to handle all at once.

With wide eyes, you scramble to your knees in front of him, your hands placed on the ground between your knees. The positioning accidentally causes the straps of your dress to slide down your shoulders, just barely exposing your chest to Joel's predatory eyes.

"Attagirl," he murmurs, the backs of his knuckles lovingly stroking your jaw, his thumb just barely pressing into one of the finger shaped bruises. "Now, what did you want to ask me, sweetheart?"

The intensity of Joel's gaze makes the question die on your lips. His fingers continue to stroke your jaw gently, their warmth coaxing you into a state of calm. The anxieties that once troubled you are fading away, leaving only the desire to please him, to heed his words, to fulfill his wishes. Joel. Joel. Joel.

He can see your eyes go unfocused the more he keeps his hand connected to your bruised skin. A sick smirk plays on his lips. Seeing you immediately submit to him so easily excites him. To have you down on your knees before him, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted. There's a part of him that wonders why he loves this, this power he holds. Joel is a depraved man, one that feeds into that sick monster hidden beneath him. He never acted this way with your mom. He never even spanks her, let alone gets her to submit in such a way that makes him feel like a god.

The second your body started developing into the womanly figure you have now is what had caught his attention early on. Maybe it's because you looked so much like her in her teenage years, or because you're just so fucking innocent and pure. Either way, his attraction for your mom had long since faded away, and you were the next best thing he wanted to take and destroy.

"Sweetheart," he calls out, gently shaking your shoulder to recapture your attention. "Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice, coupled with the gesture, brings you back to the moment.

With a frantic blink, you refocus your eyes on Joel. He nods, signaling for you to speak, the slight twitch in his jaw betraying his growing impatience. As you shuffle on your knees, your backside presses into the heel of your feet. You attempt to conceal your grimace, yet the intense pain swiftly radiates. Tears gather in your eyes as the burning sensation and fuzziness become overpowering.

Sniffling softly, you say, "I-I was just w-wondering if... if you can, um, make my behind feel a little better?" The question was shy, and you didn't even want to look at him, for you think he's going to reject you.

Joel's grin broadens at the sight of the soft, dejected expression on your face, and as your shoulders slump and your head hangs low, you brace for his scolding for having asked him to do such a task. You deserve to feel the pain of last night's punishment. You don't deserve Joel's gentle hands massaging the sore spots, kissing and whispering sweet praises in your ears. You weren't a good girl, and you don't blame him for not treating you as such.

His voice was so sweet and cooing. "Yeah? You want Daddy to make the pain go away?" His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, your little pink tip just barely poking out to rub across the pad.

The saltiness of his skin has your mouth salivating. You suck his thumb further between your lip, jerking your head to a weak nod as you hum affirmatively. Joel hums as well, only deep in thought as he weighs his options. He could keep on with his heinous punishments, forcing you to plead for him to stop--it's such a dangerous game to play. Alternatively, he might be kind today and pamper you, lavishing you with affection that you feel you don't deserve, which could further endear him to your impressionable mind. As he looks into your eyes and sees the way you're gazing up at him, his thumb firmly tucked between those lips and your silky little tongue swirling around the tip, he chooses the latter.

"Get your butt upstairs and lie on your tummy while Daddy grabs a few things, okay, babydoll?"

The soft breeze of your ceiling fan emitted a chill throughout your body, albeit a pleasant one. Goosebumps erupted on your skin, almost soothing the heat radiating from your bruised backside. Lying on your stomach, you wait patiently, straining your ears for any sign of Joel, but silence is all that meets you. The anticipation of his arrival has you swallowing hard against your pillow. It's as if he's moving quietly and slowly on purpose, prolonging the moment to heighten your sense of anticipation.

This was how he played his sick games. He was the cat, and you were the mouse. He loves being the predator and you, his prey. And for some obscene reason, you love it too.

A small creak at the doorway made you tense for a moment, but you relaxed upon seeing Joel standing there, his large frame filling the doorway. In his hands were two things: a white cloth rag of some kind and a bottle of lotion. You shiver delightfully, knowing that in just a few minutes he was going to be taking care of you in the way you needed.

"Ain't you a peach," he grins and steps inside, using his foot to fully shut the door, officially trapping the both of you inside. Joel's grin widens when he sees just how marked your backside is, the welts swollen and skin broken, large bruises that are all types of hues of blue and purple. "Hmm... Now, that's what I like to see."

You don't respond, opting to stay silent as you curiously observe him from over your shoulder. He pats your hip with the back of his hand, wordlessly telling you to scoot over. Once you do so, Joel unbuttons his shirt, completely removing the offending clothing from his body and tossing it aside. His chest and stomach were now fully exposed.

In the light, with a clear mind, you finally have the chance to take in every inch of Joel. His skin was so tan, it almost blended between caramel and bronze. Dots of hair speckled his chest, a mix of dark brown and gray. Then, there's hair around his belly button before it trails down to disappear under the waistband of his jeans, the hair getting darker and thicker. His skin is a canvas of freckles and old scars, each one a silent story that tempts your curiosity. Questions about their origins linger on the tip of your tongue, yet they remain unasked, perhaps to be explored if alone time with him arises once more.

"Your head is in the clouds again, babydoll," Joel teases, his voice holding a light-heartedness to it, immediately easing your nerves. At the sound of your quiet giggle that you muffle in your pillow, he gets comfortable between your thighs, gently coaxing them to spread wider to accommodate his large size. "There we go," he whispers under his breath.

The hot rag in his hand is gently laid over your backside, the fabric big enough to cover both cheeks. The sudden feeling made you flinch and whine unpleasantly, one foot gently kicking to try to distract you from the pain. Joel hushes you softly, one of his hands sweetly rubbing up and down the back of your thighs.

"Just relax, babydoll," his voice was so soft and comforting. "Let Daddy take care of your pretty self." He applies light pressure to the hot rag, further soothing the sensitive, enflamed skin. Another whisper comes from above, a little less pained and a lot more relieved. "That feel good, baby?"

You let out a drowsy hum as you succumb to the sensation. There was a liquid heat pooling all around your lower half as the pain from your backside gradually melts into a dull ache. Joel glances down between your thighs, your pussy lips spreading open, labia and clit on display for him to see. There's a shine covering your untouched hole. The pearly slick, slowly, slowly, slowly sliding out of your hole and trailing down to cover your clit. There's a small flutter as your pussy clenches, just briefly. An ache in Joel's jaw and his mouth salivating reminds him that now is not the time to act on his impulse. As much as he wants to bury his face between those thighs, he knows he has to make sure that you're going to be working properly before he has his fun again.

When the rag gets cold, he removes it from your backside. The cold air bites into your skin, the sudden shock taking you by surprise. The sensation of pin pricks across your exposed skin causes you to squirm. Joel is aware that it's painful once more. Your soft whimpers of discomfort prompt a quiet chuckle from him.

He grabs the bottle of lotions and squirts a generous amount into the palm of his hand. "Just a second, babydoll," he tells you softly, coaxing you to lay flat on your tummy again. You wait for a few seconds, and then you feel it.

There's a gooey warmth that covers both of your cheeks. It makes your eyes flutter shut. Then, Joel's hands start to massage your tender flesh, gently rubbing and smoothing out the aches. The pressure was so good, and the weight of his hands on your ass allowed your brain to slowly turn into mush.

He continues massaging your cheeks, even going as far as to "accidentally" swipe his thumb against your puckered hole. The action caused you to jolt and gasp, the sound of his laughter making your cheeks warm. When the ache was now dulled into a pleasant numbness, you stretched out your limbs like a little kitty in the sunlight, a soft hum vibrating into the pillow. You look over your shoulder and watch as Joel wipes his hands clean with the damp rag he had used. Seeing his bare chest has you biting down on your bottom lip.

"Uh... Daddy?" There was hesitation in the way you spoke. The idea occurred to you the second Joel had removed his shirt. The sight of your stepdad in your bedroom, clad in just his jeans, touching you in such a way was exciting. Warmth pooled in your stomach, a certain liquid heat that was hard to ignore.

Joel gazes at you with expectation, his eyebrows lifted as he catches the hesitant expression on your face. It seems like you're eager to ask him something, yet you're apprehensive about his reaction. Before this ambiguous relationship began, you'd always rush over to him, words spilling out rapidly to pose questions without a second thought. He was charmed by it. Your eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity, hanging on his every word, which he thought was incredibly cute. However, given his recent behavior, you've become more cautious about your inquiries, wanting to ensure they're significant.

"Can... Can we kiss, like how we did last time?"

The surprise on his face made you giggle. He wasn't expecting you to ask for something like that, let alone think of the naughty stuff he's already done with you at the beginning of the week. Joel clears his throat and trails his eyes over your nude backside, zeroing in on your bare pussy, almost screaming for him to touch and lick up. When he looks back up at you from where you lay against the pillow, your bottom lip tucked underneath your top teeth and your messy hair, he finds himself nodding.

When he props himself up against your pillows, you immediately clamber onto his chest, one leg resting between his legs while your other is propped up and slung over his hip. With your head resting comfortably on his shoulder, Joel rests one arm behind your back, curling it to cup your jaw from behind. Your heart is facing as you get close to his face. Eyes half-lidded and lips parted, you're the one that makes the first move.

When your lips meet, it's like stars bursting behind your eyelids. So soft, so inviting. Joel's lips are as addictive as an expensive drug. You crave their touch every second, every minute, every day.

His tongue enters your mouth and you're quick to eagerly suck it between your lips. He groans huskily and pulls his tongue away before messily kissing you. The hand that rests on your hip slowly trails down and around the back of your thigh before the tips of his fingers rest along your labia. Then, he starts rubbing up and down, further spreading the wetness that leaks out of your empty pussy. He touches everywhere. Your swollen clit, puffy labia, bare pussy lips, and your fluttering hole are left untouched.

You're nibbling on his bottom lip, eagerly shoving your tongue sloppily into his tongue. Joel groans at the taste of your mixed saliva. To have you in his arms like this, naked and so very vulnerable, it was driving him fucking insane. Your hips are shifting and bucking towards his hand, but each time his fingers rub deeper, he pulls them away. When he also pulls his lips from yours, you chase them with a desperate whimper.

"Patience, babydoll," he mutters, glancing down at the pleasure-drunk expression on your face. "Let Daddy have some fun." Joel continues smearing your wetness all over. The messy sounds of your slick being rubbed with his long, thick fingers has you blushing fiercely with embarrassment--embarrassed at the fact that he's touching you like this, probably in the same way he's touched your mom in the past. It's so dirty and naughty.

Your hand gently pets at his scruffy jaw, lashes fluttering so prettily like a butterfly's wings. Lips parted, you slowly and gently kissed him again. This kiss, however, was a lot different than the others. There was a tenderness that Joel got lost in. It made his heart skip a beat, like actually skip a beat. You're so sure he can feel your heart racing as well. Languid kissing was now your favorite thing with him. The soft, wet smacking sounds of your lips connecting and disconnecting has you whimpering delicately.

Joel's fingers now focus on your fluttering pussy hole, slick dripping out non-stop, further adding to the stickiness on his finger pads. The hand holding your jaw from behind your head tightens to pull you away.

"I'm goin' to put a finger inside, okay, baby? Daddy's goin' to make that little pussy feel so good," he whispers needily against your wet lips. When you protest, he shushes you and kisses your lips repeatedly. "Be quiet while Daddy has his fun."

Very carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside your pussy, shushing you again when you let out a squeak and try to pull your hips away. Joel's fingers follow your movements, only deepening each time you try to move. He slowly fucks his fingers inside your pussy, the tight, wet heat making his dick thicken in his jeans. The sloppy sounds of your slick, coupled with your weak whimpers has him growling lowly. He retracts his finger and goes back to rubbing your pussy in up-and-down movements again, only this time he's paying more attention to your needy clit.

"Tha' feel good, honey?" He murmurs sweetly against your lips, kissing you once, twice, three times before glancing down at you. With a shaky nod, you tell him in that pretty voice yes, yes, feels s'good. "Mhm."

Your hips are barely grinding against his thick bulge as if they have a mind of their own. There's a neediness in the way you mouth at his neck, your tongue and teeth mapping every inch that you can reach. With your focus now on something else, Joel takes this opportunity to move his hand from your weeping cunt and bring it between your bodies to slyly unbutton and unzip his jeans. He slowly pulls them down, leaning his head back down to capture your lips in another syrupy slow kiss. His cock springs out of his jeans and rests above the waistband of his boxers.

You're not paying attention to what he's doing--so focused on his lips, his warm skin, his chest, his tongue, his scent, just Joel. Daddy. Daddy.

With your attention on his mouth, Joel blindly grips the base of his cock and brings the tip to your opening. He glides the engorged tip up and around your fluttering hole, tapping it lewdly and crudely against it as wet smacking sounds filling the air. Your eyes fly open, and your body seizes as you grab onto his burly forearm.

"Daddy, no! I'm not ready yet!" You practically cry out, eyes wide and frazzled as you frantically shake your head. You've seen the size of Joel. The man is packing. He's fucking massive. And you know you're not ready to take all of him. You can't imagine the pain of being split open by something so long and so thick.

Joel hushes you sweetly, removing his hand from his thick base to tenderly grab a hold of your hip again. "Jus' grind tha' pussy on Daddy for a little bit, baby. Ssshh... you can do tha' for me, right?" His hips start to slowly grind his dick between your pussy lips, your labia spreading open and your clit catching his frenulum. "You wanna be a good girl for me, right? You wanna be punished again, babydoll? Hm? That what you want?"

Feeble whimpers leave your swollen lips at the thought of Joel further punishing you, beating your backside black and blue again. Resting back onto his chest, you shyly wiggle your hips until the position is comfortable enough for you to grind your hips forward and back. Joel grins and cups the back of your thigh to lift it higher on his waist. The feeling of his cock, now covered in your wetness and gliding easily between your pussy lips, has you feeling so tingly and warm down there. It was a new sensation. Getting to feel the thick vein that stretches from the base all the way to his tip was surreal.

"It... It feels... good," you whisper against his scruffy jaw, lips parted next to his chin to let out heavy breaths as the warmth spreads. "I-I like it."

Joel's deep chuckle reached your ears. "Daddy knows best, babydoll," he tells you, his hips grinding a little harder, so his tip nudges the hood of your clit to fully expose the sensitive nerve. "Daddy knows what's good for you, honey." His hand tightens on your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks to part your lips. "You're jus' my little girl that don't know any better, ain't you? Hm? Are you my dumb babygirl?"

The kiss he gives you is filthy. Your hushed whines are muffled as his tongue fights against yours. The liquid heat burns bigger and stronger, spreading all throughout your lower half, down to the tips of your toes and back up again. Your cunt is fluttering wildly. You feel the same sensation as when Joel ate your pussy. He knows it's going to happen. He can tell in the way your whines get more high-pitched and your hips stutter against his wet cock.

When he pulls away, you chase after him again, one hand desperately grabbing the back of his neck to pull him back down. No, no, no, please, don't go, don't leave me. Eyes filled with tears, you weakly beg him, "Da-Daddy, p-please don't... d-don't stop."

As Joel pulls away, the panic clear as day in your eyes has his heart thudding faster. Oh, you poor girl. So desperate to keep him close by. It was an adorable sight, seeing your eyes filled with thick tears as you beg him, over and over again to please, don't leave me. But he hushes you softly, gripping your jaw tighter and pressing into the bruises. His free hand comes up to his lips where he spits a thick wad of saliva in his palm. His hand goes back down between your bodies to coat his cock in his spit, some of it dripping down his heavy balls.

"Can I put the tip inside your little pussy, baby?" Joel breathlessly asks against your swollen lips, pressing a tender kiss before repeating the question again. "Can Daddy put the tip inside? Hm?"

He grinds his cock up and down your pussy again, the added slickness of his spit creating this disgusting, sopping noise. You start protesting as he notches his thick tip at your wet entrance. Grabbing at his forearm once again, you try your best to keep him from pushing it inside.

Shaking your head frantically, you tell him again, weakly, "I-I'm not ready yet, Daddy!"

Joel shuts you up by biting down roughly on your bottom lip, breaking the skin and licking away the blood that dots the pink flesh. With your blood on his tongue, that only fuels the animalistic need within him to fucking split you open.

"It's just the tip, babydoll," he tells you again, his voice deep, gravelly, wrecked. "You can take it, honey. C'mon. You can... take it." Ignoring your crying protests, he slowly pushed his hips up to slide his tip inside your pussy for the first time. He groans heavily against your mouth, sucking your bloody bottom lip between his own and licking the redness away. "Fuuuuuck."

The burn was nearly excruciating. Having something so thick and wide inside your virgin pussy has your breath catching in your throat. To know that Joel wants to put every single inch of himself deep inside is terrifying. I'm not ready. I'm not ready. No, no, no.

"See? It ain't so bad, huh?" Joel's grin is sick and wide as he feels your hole fluttering wildly around his tip. He gently starts to push his hips in and out, slowly fucking his tip into your cunt. "She's jus' suckin' me right in, ain't she? Fuuuck, baby. She's jus' drivin' me fuckin' crazy." His accent was getting gradually thicker and almost incoherent. His heart is racing over a hundred beats per minute under your shaky palm.

You're trying to breathe in and out deeply to not focus on the uncomfortable pain. The stretch was slowly setting to a numbness. The tip of Joel's cock keeps pressing against a spot beneath your pubic bone, giving you the feeling of tingles but more intense. Joel's smile gets much wider when your body relaxes against his chest, your nose pressing into his neck beneath his ear to let out hushed moans that you're trying so hard to keep silent.

"There we go," he hums deeply. "She jus' needed time to get used to Daddy's dick, hm?" The way he's talking to you and referencing your pussy has you melting into a puddle. It's all so intense and overwhelming--you never want it to end. "Jus' you wait 'til Daddy gets so deep inside of her." He accentuated the word by nudging just an inch deeper inside your pussy, forcing a choked groan from your drooling lips.

Joel's hand is still curled around the base, just below his tip. He can feel the coil tightening in the pit of his stomach as his balls draw tighter. He's panting heavily against your forehead, the slick noises just adding to the liquid heat spreading along his large body. Fuck, he was going to cum just like this, his tip lodged inside his stepdaughter's tight, virgin cunt. A sick, old man he is--defiling his wife's daughter and enjoying the depravity. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Fuck," Joel growls, his nostrils flaring, jaw clenching, and teeth baring as he grips his base tightly and yanks his hips away. He slots his cock between your ass cheeks and strokes his hand up and down hastily, your bruised cheeks jiggling from his fist meeting the flesh repeatedly. The sight has his toes curling. The drowsy whimper you release in his ear and the fucking scent of your pussy that he can smell all the way up from where he lay has his cock throbbing. "Daddy's cummin', babydoll. Oh, f-fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck."

His cum shoots out from between your ass cheeks, thick ropes of white painting your bruises and cute little back dimples, even going so far to reach up your spine and almost landing in your hair. He just won't stop cumming. It's going and going. Joel's entire body is trembling as he jerks the tip, forcing out the last few dribbles of his cum onto your puckered hole.

You felt his spend splattering across your skin, and you wiggle impatiently in his hold, wishing you could've seen it with your own eyes if you weren't so tucked against his neck. Joel lets out a heavy, shaky breath. His beautifully hooked nose brushes against yours, coaxing you to lift your head.

He brings his cum-covered fingers to your lips, the tips rubbing lovingly across the bottom. Maintaining eye contact, you part them and let Joel slowly push his fingers into your mouth. The taste of his cum on your tongue was unlike anything you've ever tasted. It was a masculine, heavy taste, which perfectly accentuates who Joel Miller is. Your eyes flutter shut as you eagerly bring in a third finger, your lips stretched wide around his thick fingers.

"Attagirl," Joel huskily mumbles. "Jus' like that."

You and Joel have fallen into a steady routine. There's an unspoken agreement of where your place is. He can shoot you a specific look and you immediately know what he's trying to say. Joel's an easy man to read, at least to you. There have been many instances where you overheard him and your mom arguing about him being so closed off. But with you, he's so natural at showing you multiple sides of him. You don't mind, really.

As evening falls, Joel is at the stove preparing dinner for both of you. Although it's not your preferred meal, his word is final--what he says, goes. You've learned not to refuse what he's offered so far. Standing near him, you observe his actions with keen interest. Joel often glances back to ensure you're there. You trail behind him, following his every step without question, much like a lost puppy would. Even when he steps into the bathroom, you find yourself waiting right outside the door for him to emerge. It was a weird feeling; a fear you never knew you had within you when it came to your stepdad. You feel as though if he leaves for just a split second, he's never going to come back. And you'll be here lost, alone.

"Dinner time, sweetheart," Joel declares, snapping you out of your daydream. As you dash to the table, he halts you with a hand on your arm. "Whoa, slow down there, speed racer." Chagrined by his gentle chiding, you offer a subdued apology.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, you attempt to follow suit, but he loudly tuts and extends a hand to halt you. Grasping your plate, he sets it down beside his feet. His expression leaves no space for objections. Similar to the previous day, you are left without utensils to eat with. Wordlessly, you get down onto your knees and wait for him to tell you when it's okay to start eating. Joel starts eating his meal pathetically slowly. He's doing it on purpose--you know he's doing it on purpose. He loves making you squirm. He loves to draw it out longer than it's supposed to--just an added perk to his game.

When your stomach starts grumbling loudly, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Joel barely casts you a glance. He keeps eating his meal, even going as far as to hum loudly as the savoring flavors explode on his tongue. When he has just a few bites left, knowing that your food is now cold, he looks down and gives you a single nod.

Immediately, you bow your head to your plate and begin to hastily mop up your meal. It's untidy and careless, yet it doesn't bother you. You're uncertain when Joel might surprise you again, preventing or restricting your eating. As you take each bite, you watch for a sign from him to cease. Looking up, you notice his focus is solely on his own meal, methodically chewing. Sensing your gaze, he commands without glancing your way, "Eat your damn food before I take it away." With a strained whimper, you comply.

Silence stretches through the air as you both eat. You refrain from mentioning to Joel that your stomach is cramping from eating too quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the meal he prepared with care. When he looks at you, he notices the gradual slowing of your jaw as you struggle to swallow. It's becoming apparent to him that feeding you just once a day is taking its toll.

Suddenly, a series of knocks sounded at the door—five urgent, frantic raps. Panic gripped you, shoulders tightening and jaw clenching as you exchanged a fearful glance with Joel. His brows knitted together, and he quickly wiped his hands and mouth with the napkin.

He points down at you, "You stay right here, and don't make a peep. Understood?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before forcefully pushing back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. You wince and watch anxiously as he stomps over to the door and peers through the peephole.

Joel's jaw clenches upon recognizing the visitor. Muttering, "Son of a bitch," he pulls the door open, one hand gripping the doorknob while the other rests atop the doorframe. There on the porch stands your lanky guy friend, the one you visited the lake with. "Can I help you?" he asks, his tone sharp and unwelcoming.

Your friend shifts nervously, taken aback by Joel answering the door. He softly clears his throat, attempting to peer over Joel's shoulder, but Joel moves nearer to the doorway, narrowing the gap on his side.

"I was wondering if your stepdaughter is home?" he stammers, avoiding eye contact with Joel. "She hasn't been answering her phone, and our friends are really worried," he adds, while Joel feels a sense of satisfaction from the fear he perceives in the boy's demeanor.

"She's grounded," Joel says, his tone getting colder when the boy tries, yet again, to look over his shoulder. "Now, I suggest you turn your ass around and get the fuck off my porch."

Your friend's eyes widen, and he takes a staggered step back at Joel's violently dark tone. "The fuck is your problem, man?!"

From within the house, the volume of your friend's voice escalates, almost to a shout at Joel. You observe Joel's hand clench around the doorknob, and it's surprising that it remains intact under his grasp.

He can't understand what overtakes him; perhaps it's knowing you're mere feet away, or maybe it's because the kid has witnessed things about you he disapproves of. However, the only thing Joel is aware of is the white-hot rage engulfing him. You watch as he storms out and slams the door with such force that the vibration is felt on the ground where you kneel.

Outside, Joel's hands clench the collar of the boy's shirt, likely tearing the fabric with his sheer strength. He thrusts him against the porch post, almost splintering the wood and the boy's skull with the impact. Joel leans in, his shoulders rising and falling, emitting a low growl from his throat. The boy's whimpers are muffled as Joel's knuckles press into his windpipe.

"Listen to me, and you listen good," Joel leans in close, his voice low and dangerous. "If you so much as talk to her again, look at her, touch her, or even think about her, I'll have you wishin' you were never born." Your friend's toes are barely skimming the ground as Joel has him literally lifted up against the wooden post. His hands are frantically grabbing Joel's forearms, feet weakly kicking. The man doesn't budge--he only presses harder. "If you come back to my house to bother my girl one more time, I will fuckin' kill you." He gravely whispers the last threat and releases his hands, watching as your friend pathetically falls to the ground onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air as he grabs his throat. "Now, go on. Get."

Joel remains on the porch, his fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. His gaze is fixed on your friend as he dashes away and fumbles into his meager Honda Civic. Even after the vehicle disappears down the road, Joel is motionless. The fury within him, burning in his chest and gut, has not subsided; it has only grown stronger.

Within the house, silence prevails. A single loud thump disrupts the quiet, followed by stillness. You pause for a moment, the sound of your own heartbeat the only noise. The urge to call out to Joel is strong, but the words are stuck in your throat. Anxiety creeps back into your chest, gnawing at your heart and corroding your veins. Did Joel leave? Where is he? Where did he go? Please, come back. Daddy, don't leave. Where are you? Please, please, come back. Don't leave me here alone. They're going to get me. Please. Oh, God. He's gone. He's never coming back.

White noise fills the cracks in Joel's mind. He sits on the porch swing hunched over, both elbows resting on his knees as he twiddles with his gold wedding band. His knee bounces up and down in quick succession. Someone had gotten too close to his home--to his special girl. The lanky fucking kid. Joel's hands clench into tight fists, just begging to slam them into your friend's face over and over until he's a mangled, unrecognizable pile of flesh and broken bones.

He's uncertain of the time he's spent out here; it might have been minutes or perhaps an hour. Time mattered little to him. His thoughts were consumed by you, his little girl. In his eyes, no one could match what he has provided for you, and he believes you would agree. Joel is confident in his knowledge, convinced that you belong to him. He sees himself as your destined protector, even if his hands were metaphorically elongated like a beast with monstrous nails ready to strike.

You belonged to Joel Miller, whether you knew it or not.

As the streetlights flicker on, he realizes it's time to head back inside. The neighborhood is winding down for the evening. A sudden memory jolts Joel; he had left you alone in the house. Leaping from his seat, he flings the door open, then slams it shut, securing both the bottom and top locks. Turning towards the kitchen, he freezes upon spotting you—a mere few feet away, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, whimpering and trembling.

"Babydoll," Joel tuts and carefully walks around you to bend down, tenderly pushing your hair from your face and catching sight of your tear-filled eyes. "Did I tell you to move? Hm?"

The sound of his voice was like a lifeline to your heart—his words were the breath you needed, and you felt as if you were at death's door. In a rush, you stood and threw your arms around his shoulders, almost toppling both of you to the ground. Tears streamed down your face, and sobs of distress were just barely restrained the moment his body pressed against yours.

Crying out to him, "Y-You left me! You l-left me a-alone! I thought... I thought you weren't coming back! The bad people were gonna t-take me away from you!" Trying to bury yourself deeper in his neck, you silently begged for Joel to take you somewhere, far away from here.

It was naive to believe you could manage alone. At your current age, it's only a matter of time before your mom discusses the prospect of moving out. Yet now, the mere idea of being apart from Joel triggers a wave of panic. How can you explain to your mom that without him, you feel incomplete? She might find it appalling. It wasn't difficult to keep your relationship with Joel a secret, but the threat of being pushed out of the house makes you wonder if it's worth it.

"I-I don't think I can do this anymore, Joel," you wept, sniffling and breathing heavily in his shoulder, fingers desperately grabbing at the fabric of his t-shirt to keep him close when he shifts an inch or two away. "I can't... I can't be away from you. I can't th-think, I can't function, I can't breathe w-without you, Daddy!"

There it was, the answer he's been waiting for. Hook, line, sinker. Joel has damaged you so severely to where you need to be around him or else you'll go crazy. This is what he was waiting for, fucking aching for. So young, so innocent, so pure. Now tainted by his predatory hands, bruised and marked by his false promises and sick fantasies. This is a dream come true. His wedding band almost burns through your skin as you feel the cold metal on your bare shoulder.

"Oh, my sweet babydoll," he coos in your ear, that honeyed tone of his easing your worries.

If only you understood his thoughts about you, his desires from you. Convincing your mind that this relationship is normal, making you believe that this is true love—you poor, poor girl.

Joel continues, his voice gradually turning dark as his hands tighten around your shoulders, nails digging crescents into your delicate skin, "This is just the beginning."

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog ; @blueberrypancakesworld ; @heyhihello-4771 ; @codenamekitten ; @chamepagnessimo ; @idioticcatss ; @takochansugoi ; @zjasminelouvre3 ; @natalieispunk ; @koshkaj-blog ; @giowritess ; @beardropascal ; @pascaltesfaye ; @callmeafra ; @nexy00 ; @josephquinnswhore ; @baronessvonglitter ; @peelieblue ; @paanchusblog ; @b3bybunny ; @sugadolly ; @ktluvsmen ; @elliesr1fle ; @taeslarityy ; @yourgirljasmin444 ; @laloestoyvivo ; @aquanatalie ; @vickie5446 ; @cowboybootjoel ; @olicity-boo ; @ashleyfilm ; @withakindheartx ; @puduvallee ; @psychoenergy ; @chuutzuyu ; @cockykookiee

[x1asirene]

f1 driver!xavier as your bf headcanons | sfw ver.

✧ f1 driver!xavier is mercedes’ cool-headed tactician—unflinching under pressure, with ice in his veins and steel in his focus. his post-race interviews are monotone and matter-of-fact, even when he's pulled a miracle stint. fans call him “robotic,” engineers call him “flawless.” but when you're in the paddock, he's a completely different man. he leans down to murmur jokes you’re the only one to catch, and if you're nearby during media day, his gaze drifts to you at least three times a minute.

✧ f1 driver!xavier shows love through the smallest acts—quiet, habitual touches that say everything. he’ll rest his hand on your back like it’s instinct. hand you his unopened water bottle when he notices you didn’t bring yours. pull you out of the way of cameras before you even see them coming. his affection isn’t loud. it’s just always there.

✧ f1 driver!xavier once dozed off standing against the pit wall because you were late arriving. the team left him alone, watching the soft rise and fall of his shoulders while he slept upright, arms crossed, your name still half-muttered in his comms mic.

✧ f1 driver!xavier doesn’t smile in podium photos unless you're present. but if you are—standing near the barrier, half-hiding your grin—he’ll glance at you and his lips will twitch into a restrained, lopsided smile. it's barely there, but unmistakable. the other drivers know to clear out before he jumps straight down to find you.

✧ f1 driver!xavier is allergic to you being overwhelmed. during one chaotic sponsor event, he noticed your discomfort and—without raising his voice or blinking—handed you his team jacket, stood in front of you like a human barricade, and told the pr manager: “we’re done here.” he walked you straight out. no one questioned it.

✧ f1 driver!xavier teases you in the flattest, most monotone way imaginable. when you steal his hoodie, he doesn’t protest. he just tilts his head and says, “that’s mine. you’re stealing.” you shoot back that you look better in it, and without missing a beat, he deadpans, “sure, but i need compensation. kiss, please.”

✧ f1 driver!xavier is utterly silent around other drivers—until one flirts with you. then suddenly, he’s speaking. “he’s the one who stalled on the formation lap last year, right?” or, “what place did he finish again?” dry. brutal. effective. delivered with the flattest tone and the blankest face ever.

✧ f1 driver!xavier is the calmest man alive—until you cheer for another driver. you once clapped for jeremiah’s overtake. xavier muttered “hm” under his breath, and four turns later, overtook him clean. “tell her to watch that one instead,” he said on the radio. you nearly dropped your headset.

✧ f1 driver!xavier lets you decorate the inside of his cockpit like it’s your canvas. you stuck a sparkly frog near the dash and dangled a star keychain from a bolt. no protest. just, “if it falls, i’m blaming you.” he never removes them. one time, the mechanics tried to clean the dash and he intercepted with, “don’t touch the frog.” they thought he was joking. you knew he wasn’t.

✧ f1 driver!xavier rarely laughs—but with you, he laughs. real laughter. he’ll cover his face with a hand, shoulders shaking quietly while he mutters, “stop. you’ll make me crash tomorrow.” it's not loud. it doesn’t need to be. it feels like a secret between just the two of you.

✧ f1 driver!xavier doesn’t necessarily say “i need you.” but when you’re gone, he can't rest. he forgets where he left his gloves. misses his braking point in sim practice. wanders into hospitality looking for you, then walks right back out. you’re his one constant—and he doesn’t function right without you.

# do not repost, translate, or upload my work to any other platforms. tumblr reblogs are welcome and appreciated, but reposting outside of this blog is not permitted !

— ✦ © @ x1asirene, tumblr 2025 ✧

[cannimumsable]

my favorite things i see in dnis (/s)

"basic dni criteria" that doesn't exist. what is the basic dni criteria.

"i don't like you" girl then you have to block me im not gonna guess

"you like irredeemable media" what constitutes irredeemable media. bonus if they do give examples and one or more is a kids' show.

pornbots (who can absolutely read your post. totally /s)

"chronically online" i fear you can't interact with yourself anymore

"anti-harassment dni" please just say proshipper because this looks like you saying you are pro-harassment

"freaks dni" WHAT CONSTITUTES A FREAK. similar for creep, weirdo and other such terms

"people who don't put this very personal information in their bio" can range from race to name to pronouns to mental illnesses to triggers to

"under 13 and over 15" girl

"cringe" WHAT CONSTITUTES CRINGE

"dni if you post about my triggers which i am going to list and describe in detail" for your own safety PLEASE don't

violent threats to anyone who fits your dni, bonus points if you're telling "freaks" to go kys. WHO IS FREAKS. WHO ARE YOU SUICIDE BAITING.

specific ass terms that no one who isn't into that discourse can know and that aren't explained, even vaguely. yes google exists. however i am bothering to read your fuckass dni for your sake so be nice to me.

terrible custom font that makes it impossible to read the dni, bonus if the entire bio or pinned post is normal EXCEPT the dni. do you want me to read it or no.

on that note: carrds that lag, "read my dni!" (link to dni isn't functional), dni is in an undescribed image, censored words that makes things unreadable/inaccessible to ppl with screenreaders

very cute and aesthetic pinned/carrd which contains words such as "kill yourself if you're like this" and other such threats

"exclusionists dni" followed by "bi lesbians/lesboys/he/him lesbians/think cishet aro/aces are lgbt+"

dnis that are extremely long and include every single one of your political opinions. I do not need to know this. additionally, dnis that instead of being lists are long ass paragraphs.

threats of violence in case the dni is ignored (i don't know how to tell you that but some people just Reblog Posts without checking the person's blog. also, don't threaten people)

"men dni" "masc dni" "fem-aligned dni" just say you hate multigender people. alternatively just say you drink the terf kool-aid

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 2.5

The social media you and Lando fed the fans the two years you worked for your brother was...a thing to remember.

(in my head, these all take place late 2019/early2020. Just some SM fluff. If you like these, I'll do more for these babies!)

Part 1 Part 2 Master List

LandoNorris: At your service, pretty girl >>>user123: pretty girl? i'm weak. user198: Imagine having Lando fucking Norris drive you around. Girl is winning at life.

LandoNorris: Still can't believe you forced me to eat that garbage. >>>LittlestSainzSis: I didn't force you to eat anything, you monkey. You gagged when was eating it five feet away from you. >>>LandoNorris: Rightfully so. user3829: Lando in the same room as some sushi? Man is down bad.

GeorgiePorgie: Ten bucks says you drove her to it. >>>SmoooooooothOperator: You'd win that bet. SpicySainz: You wouldn't stop quoting Finding Nemo! >>>Landhino: I'm am piranha from the Amazon *chomp chomp* >>>SpicySainz: I hate you

user876: your honor, i love her. user329: get 'em sis LandoNorris: Restraining order on it's way >>>LittleSainzSis: please, you'd cease to function without me >>>CarlosSainz: She's got a point >>>user321: The girls are fighting!

SpicySainz: you wouldn't stop whinging until I took the picture, you muppet. >>>landhino: prove it.

tagged: @/LittlestSainzSis

user128: HAND. PLACEMENT. user983: No way they're not dating. Like. What. user72882: Lando, did you mean to post this on main??? user829: holy body goals, jfc user9332: gossip girlzzzz

Tag List: Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16 @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09

[genderkoolaid]

I feel like very few pro-trans people are talking about how the current moral panic about teens transitioning is explicitly centred on transmasc teens.

I’ve seen a lot of TERFs very explicitly cite the reason that they got involved in anti-trans campaigning was because more “girls” started transitioning in the 2010s (when before it had been more “boys.”) The initial survey on “Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria” by Lisa Littman surveyed parents of teens over 80% of whom were “female sex at birth.” The Cass Report is explicitly about “the reasons for the increase in referrals [to the NHS for youth transition] and why this increase has disproportionately been seen in birth registered females presenting in adolescence.” Probably the single most popular anti-trans book about youth transition is Abigail Shrier’s Irreversible Damage, which is about transmasc teens.

Not to say that transfem teens aren’t targeted, especially when it comes to sports & bathroom bans, and being painted as predators from a very young age — although there’s definitely also been a lot of hysteria about transmasc teens “seducing” other teens into transitioning, as well as being aggressive, and it’s not like transmasc teens don’t also get beat up in bathrooms.

But just! I don’t see most pro-trans people acknowledging that this whole anti-trans-teen movement was fuelled in a huge way by transandrophobia (or whatever you want to call it), and that one of its primary goals is stopping transmascs from having any agency over our own bodies. At its core, it’s about transmascs not being properly submissive baby-makers who are attractive to straight men and the property of their parents.

It’s not just about transphobia, it’s about transandrophobia specifically and the fact that people can’t even name that makes me doubt what I’ve seen with my own eyes.

(Follow up to my last ask about the trans teen moral panic) I don't think it would bother me so much except that I've so often seen people try to silence transmasc voices on this topic, or say that transmascs are just collateral damage, as if we're not one of the primary reasons it exists and one of its primary targets. I feel like "nothing about us without us" should apply here, you know?

All of this, absolutely.

I've seen people claim that actually, ROGD and its associated panic attacks are actually secretly about transfems at their core, because transfems are the (only) one's blamed for young girls transitioning! Which is fucking wild!!! Like not only is it not true (parents tend to blame social media, specifically transmasc creators who talk about transitioning) but like why do you have this impulse where even things that are blatantly targeting transmascs can't actually be about transmascs. Why are we always the insignificant side characters in our own experiences.

This is how erasure functions: if you can't deny that anti-transmasc violence is happening, deny that its happening to transmascs. Obscure the victims and how the violence is motivated by their transmasculinity.

& then there's also the way that people act like infantilizing misogyny is 1) the only thing any transmasc ever experiences 2) is Oppression Lite and is more annoying than anything. Like sure let's just forget all of feminism and the well documented ways in which being infantilized kills and ruins lives. Because when it's a transmasc it doesn't really count.

Ik somewhere out there there's a video of ContraPoints where she actually corrects another person on their erasure of radfem anti-transmasc rhetoric. Let's see more of that please.

[knight-a3]

Hazbin Masterpost

Heavenbound Masterpost

Vox, the noisy video box

So Vox may not be my favorite character, but he is probably my favorite redesign. I laugh every time I look at him now. He looks like a weird mix of Spongebob, Kraang(TMNT), and Mr. Electric(Sharkboy and Lavagirl). He absolutely hates it.

Notes under the cut

There's too many twinks in this show. So when I was trying to decide which characters I could change, for body diversity, Vox was an obvious one. He needed more bulk so his body could conceivably support the old TV models. Those things could get heavy. The change also had the side effect of making him shorter, which just worked better proportionately.

I liked the idea that Vox could never get rid of his original bulky 50s TV, but also wanted him to be able to upgrade. So I decided his true body is the 50s TV, and he adds an upgraded monitor for a head as technology improves. He's hates that he's stuck as an old fashioned TV, so he hides that under his suit. Since the monitor is just an addition, it can be swapped out easily. It can be damaged and he's technically unharmed. But he can't see through his suit without the monitor, unless he wants to use a security camera and direct himself 3rd person style.

I didn't like that basically everyone has sharp teeth. It reduces the impact for characters like Alastor or Rosie. So I've been having the default be just sharp canines. But with Vox being a TV, there are so many possibilities. I gave Vox "regular" teeth, which helps him look more trustworthy. It fits the corrupt businessman vibe. But the appearance can change with his mood too.

Color TV became available in the 50s, so Vox always had color vision. But I think it'd be funny if, early on, he had a tendency to glitch out by going into black and white vision when he gets worked up. He's mostly grown out of that glitch, but he can't seem to shake the static or TV color bars, and developed new ones as he integrated computer and internet tech into himself as well. Now he gets the Blue Screen of Death, system errors, and city wide power surges.

Messing around with his face is so fun. When he's bored or tired a Voxtech logo will bounce around like the DVD logo, or display a screensaver. His face can get too big for the screen when he's excited, or be small when he's feeling embarrassed. I need to put a troll face on him at some point. It may be an old meme, but man, it feels right.

His left eye turns red when it's hypnotic, to reference those blue and red 3D glasses.

Of the three Vees, he is absolutely the most powerful. Val and Vel are the content creators, but Vox is the platform. The other two, while still powerful in their own right, would never have gotten to the level they're at if it weren't for Vox. He controls the mainstream media.

--TV set--

So we've got some interesting implications with how he functions. He's a TV, but he blue screens like a computer, and he shorts out the power grid. I think it's safe to say he is more than just a TV, he's a multimedia entertainment center. That, and TVs are starting to really blend with computers these days. He's mainstream media.

At some point, I realized that a TV set was a "set" because it wasn't just a single device. A television set was a collection of components, which boils down to a radio hooked up and synchronized to a visual display. I bring this up mostly because I am a sucker for one-sided radiostatic. It's so funny to me. Vox is obsessed.

But I'm going to refrain from too much theorizing about their relationship. Alastor is absolutely not interested in romance. Nor a QPR. He's not even interested in friendship. Alastor is too invested in power dynamics to really consider anyone a friend. Mimzy is probably the closest he has to a friend, and even that has manipulative elements on both sides. But I'm supposed to be talking about Vox!

--Human Vox!--

He is not tall, haha. But his proportions are a bit taller than his demon form. I wanted to go for square glasses, but I didn't see many examples of that in the 50s photos I found. Oh well! My goal was a sleazy business man. He probably had a variety of jobs, but they primarily involved TV. Commercials, PR, interviews, news, game shows, talk shows, screenwriting, etc. Whatever he could do to get more influence. He found himself favoring the business end of things. Making deals and pulling strings. He decided what would go on the air. He's one of those network executive types.

I see lots of people give him heterochromia, but I don't really see a point to that. He hypnotizes people with his left eye, sure, but it's not a different color. It's not disfigured in any way either. Maybe he just had a tendency to wink at people, I dunno.

I think his death involved some sort of severe skull fracture focused around his left eye. Maybe a car accident, maybe he was shot, idk. Maybe seizures were involved. But he was somewhere in his mid 40s to early 50s. I ended up writing 45, but I'm not super committed to that or anything.

For a human name, I see lots of people calling him Vincent and that's sorta grown on me. So I might go with "Vincent Cox".

And because I fell into another research rabbit hole...

--TV evolution--

(below) 50s-60s CRT TV: TV sets were treated as furniture and there could be some very interesting cabinet designs. Color TV was introduced in the 50s, but wasn't quite profitable until the late 60s.

(below) 70s-80s CRT TV: Color TV became more affordable and commonplace.

(below) 90s CRT TV

(below) 2000s CRT to Plasma and LCD TVs: The three display technologies competed, but LCD won out in the end. Plasma and early LCD didn't look substantially different. Plasma was a little bulkier, but was still slimmer than CRT.

2010s and on: LCD improved with LED backlighting. But then OLED removed the need for backlighting entirely, which mixed the benefits of plasma and LCD. (Didn't bother to find a picture example. It's so close to modern at this point)

--Display technology-- (These overviews are very simplified)

CRT(Cathode Ray Tube)--Used through the 1900s to approx 2010. Monochromatic until Color TV developed aroung the 1950s. Worked via vacuum tubes and electron gun that lit up the pixels. They were bulky, heavy, and used a whole lot of power. Widely considered obsolete and no longer made. Video games made while these were in use tend to look better in CRT, since the graphics accounted for the image quality.

Flat screens-

PDP (Plasma Display Panel): Used from early 2000s to approx 2015. Used gas cells that light up pixels when electrically charged. Good image quality and good contrast, but expensive, heavy, and used a lot of power. Considered obsolete and no longer made, despite still having a desirable image quality.

Plasma and LCD competed in the 2000s to early 2010s as CRT popularity waned. LCD eventually won out due to weight and overall cost(including market price and energy efficiency).

LCD (Liquid Crystal Display): Introduced for TV around the same time as Plasma. Works via a liquid crystal layer with a backlight. Slim, decent image quality, energy efficient. Viewing angle matters because image colors are warped at wide angles. Cheaper than plasma. There are two main backlighting types:

--CCFL(Cold Cathode Fluorescent Light): Used fluorescent lighting for the backlight. Image quality was decent, but didn't have good contrast. (the blacks were never truly dark because of the backlight)

--LED(Light Emitting Diode): An LCD that uses LEDs instead of CCFL for the backlighting. Better contrast and efficiency than using CCFL.

OLED(Organic LED): Mixes strengths of plasma and LCD. Self emitting LEDs. No backlight or LCD panel needed, which improves contrast(about as good as plasma was, which is why plasma is basically obsolete now).

--QD-OLED(Quantum Dot- OLED) Adds a layer of Quantum dots to an OLED to improve color gamut. I think. I can't let myself fall too far into this rabbit hole, so I'm not double checking anymore.

((Feb 12, 2025-updated tags)

[ryewwww]

pls could u write something w john price non-con using his power to manipulate MC, like telling her that he has connections everywhere or smth like that, maybe +tf141 , love and adore ur work❤️❤️!! (English is not my native language, sorry for any mistakes TT)

-> JOHN PRICE?! Say less I love him sm 😩 and thank you, sweet !

-> forgive me, I don’t know much about the military

-> forgive me again bc I know price is not this mean >_<

⚠️: NON CON, manipulation, power imbalance, misogyny, spanking, hair pulling, choking, breeding kink

-> READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION!

You’re a civilian contractor — hired to help manage communications for a military operation linked to TF141.

You’re smart, efficient, and professional

You never thought you’d get an opportunity to work with the military, but the pay was too good to give up

So here you are, staying at the base in your own private suite

So far, things were going pretty smooth

The people were nice and kept you in the loop

The work was alright. Obviously, when there was a high risk situation, it was stressful. But other times, it was breezy.

You weren’t required to really go anywhere and if you were, a team would accompany you

Usually, it’d be the Task Force 141

They were great, friendly and surprisingly chatty

Definitely prioritized your safety over their own

After a few missions, you grew close with the guys, specifically Gaz and Soap because they were closer in age with you

But Simon and John were a bit more closed off

Simon was normally quiet according to Kyle and Johnny but it was unusual for John to be distant

Still, it’s not like he’s required to be your friend so you didn’t read too deep into it

It wasn’t until a few months later that the dynamic started to shift

You played it off as John getting more comfortable with your presence

It starts with little things like a hand on your thigh, rubbing it up and down for reassurance. It was comforting at the moment, but when his fingers neared your inner thighs, you awkwardly pulled away and he smugly smirked in response.

Or when he joined you, Kyle and Johnny for a drink at a bar and started asking some really personal questions like how many partners you’ve had. He also made some snarky, misogynistic comments about how he thinks you’d look better as a house wife with kids and this military life is not for everyone ect ect.

It was all very backhanded and all you could do was awkwardly laugh and be like “ohh noo, I like being independent”

Other times, you noticed things from your suite misplaced or missing

And the only other person that has access to your suite is the captain

But he wouldn’t do that, right? It’s you, you’re crazy because why would the captain invade your privacy like that?

You kept ignoring the red flags, kept blaming yourself till you couldn’t anymore

One night, you’re exhausted — barely functioning after a 14-hour shift.

You shuffle into your suite without thinking, tossing your bag onto the chair.

You don't notice the door easing shut behind you.

The hand clamps over your mouth.

You stiffen, thrashing instinctively, but the arm around your waist is immovable, crushing you back against a solid, muscled chest.

His breath is hot against your ear as he speaks,

"Easy, sweetheart. You'll only make it worse for yourself."

You kick out blindly, but he’s prepared.

One quick shove, and you’re slammed chest-first into the wall.

He presses against you, heavily

His rough palm cups your breast, squeezing, pawing shamelessly as he grinds his hips into your ass.

You cry out under his hand, muffled, helpless.

"Knew you'd be soft," he mutters. "This is where women like you belong."

Tears blur your vision, panic rising like bile, but you can't move, can't breathe, can't think beyond the rough hands roaming your body.

You try to fight. God, you try.

You claw at his arm, your nails breaking against the thick fabric of his jacket.

You stamp your foot against his shin, elbow his side, but it’s like hitting stone.

His chuckle rumbles against your back, low and vicious.

"That’s it, pet. Get it out of your system."

You struggle, digging in your heels, grabbing at doorframes, furniture, anything, but he’s stronger.

In seconds, you're thrown down, face-first into the mattress.

You try to scramble up, but his weight pins you down

You feel the scratch of his beard as he leans in close, his breath hot against your skin, thick with the stink of cigars and whiskey.

"Please... don't," you manage to squeak, your voice shaking so hard it barely comes out.

Your small, pitiful plea earns you nothing — just a slow, cruel grin stretching across his face.

When it happens, you tried your hardest to fight him off.

He ripped your pants down, did little prep before pushing into you

"When he bottoms out, he groans, “fuck, you feel good,"

All you can do is sob when he starts thrusting

Pathetic, broken sounds that are muffled by the mattress as he holds you down by the back of your neck.

You try to make resist, squirm, thrash, anything

But every movement earns you a cruel, bruising slap to your ass or a rough yank of your hair

“Fight and I’ll hurt you more.”

Soon after, you give up. Your arms hurt from being pulled back by him. Your muscles burn. Your throat is raw from sobbing and gasping.

You were exhausted and on the verge of passing out when he finished inside of you.

Price tucks himself away, breathing heavy

You think, well pray that he’ll leave.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he crouches beside the bed again, one large hand roughly grabbing your chin and forcing your glassy, tear-soaked face up to his.

"Listen carefully, love."

His voice is cold now, stripped of even the fake tenderness he sometimes uses.

"You breathe a word of this to anyone, it'll be the last mistake you ever make."

You whimper, trembling, but he keeps going

"You think Kyle or Johnny will believe you? They won't. I'm the fucking Captain. They'll think you're just some desperate little girl who couldn’t handle the pressure."

Then he leans even closer

"You want to lose your job? Your clearance? Everything you've worked for?"

You don't answer. You can't.

But he doesn’t need you to.

"Remember, if I reallllly wanted to," he says casually, "I could make you disappear. Nobody would even know where to start looking."

With that, he left.

From that day, you obviously feared for your safety constantly

The team notices. Of course they do.

Kyle and Johnny especially won't let it go.

"You alright, love?" Kyle asks you one afternoon

"You've been actin' strange, lass," Soap adds, brow furrowed

You want to tell them.

God, you want to.

But you can feel Price's eyes from across the room

And you knew better, so you lie.

You force a brittle smile.

You say, "I'm fine. Just tired."

You try to save yourself.

You file a transfer request

You list every reason you can think of: Need for new experience. Personal reasons. Career growth.

You waited for your transfer to be approved but it never was

It was only when Price cornered you while the others were training, that he slammed a folder of papers in your face

You flinched, heart pounding when your eyes meet his

“Do you enjoy defying me? Because I thought I made myself clear.”

You glance at the papers and it’s your transfer request

[love-belle]

u dumbfuck i adore u !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're secretly together and one comment leads to the grand reveal.

or

for when you find out that it'll always be them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - max's version!!!!!! i hope u like it <3 charles' version coming soon!!!!!! thank u sm for reading, i love you <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

*maxverstappen1 added to their instagram stories*

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 865,427 others

yourusername when maxverstappen1 irritates you so bad u have to go and reconnect with nature but he follows u there too

9,627 comments

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*this comment has been deleted*

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 988,728 others

maxverstappen1 rarely recorded moments of her not looking like she wants to bash my head in but i love it when she smiles ❤️

tagged yourusername

11,628 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, carmenmmundt and 986,427 others

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tagged maxverstappen1

12,628 comments

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lewishamilton 💜

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