#memo's agents

[captn3]

until next time.... stay fresh [plain text: until next time.... stay fresh]

[mipmoth]

Ingo at the DeepSea metro what will he do (he forgot)

[spookystarfishzombie]

[youchangedmedestiel]

Destiel AU idea (again)

Dean is searching for a flat because he recently divorced Lisa. He wants one that is big and comfortable enough to welcome his children, Ben and Emma. It's been months since he started searching for one. Fortunately, Lisa is understanding enough to let him stay in their old house until he finds something.

They actually aren't in a hard and conflicted relationship right now, their marriage stopped because there wasn't love between them anymore. They still care about each other.

Dean knew he wasn't in love with Lisa anymore and he suspected the same for Lisa, but he was fine with it. Lisa though thought otherwise. She asked for divorce because she said that they both deserved to find love and be loved.

So, Dean is doing his umpteenth visit for a flat that he spotted on Internet. This one seems really nice and clean, his children will be able to have their own rooms. And the kitchen looks awesome with enough place for him to cook.

The real estate agent who give him the tour of the flat isn't bad either. He has blue eyes, which looks surreal, long and dark eyelashes that match his hair and his growing beard. Dean listens to him attentively and can't help but look right into his eyes when he speaks. Dean wants to confide in him and he does that naturally actually.

He tells him that he is sick to search for a home for his family. It's been months, and he's exhausted to be disappointed each time he thinks he found something. But at the same time, he wants his children to feel good in that new home so he is demanding.

That real estate agent, Castiel, is compassionate and doesn't understand why Dean doesn't find one with his solid, complete application. Castiel tells Dean that maybe it's because others real estate agents are struggling right now. There's a lot of people searching for a new home at this time of the year, so a lot of work. Castiel admits that he, himself, is buried in work all day long.

He works 6 days a week constantly. Since Dean is really attentive to what the man in front of him says, he notices that Castiel doesn't seem to have someone in his life to get back to. So, he goes for it. He asks Castiel if he wants to go and get a drink with him once they have finished the tour.

Castiel seems surprised by the offer and looks away. He fumbles with his pen and papers and puts them on the kitchen counter. He takes a deep breath. So, Dean fears his answer.

"Are you asking me on a d-" Castiel starts asking hesitantly.

"Yes." Dean cuts him, because he somehow fears that word. It sounds too official and he's still living with his ex. Plus, it's been a while for him.

"O - okay. Yeah." Castiel agrees, and neither of them is able to look at the other.

[apocalyptichearts]

do you think, maybe, there’s a universe in which may and coulson got to raise daisy as their own…? a framework even?

[devilledminion]

i love you characters who were supposed to blend in the background to supplement a main character's lore, only to end up being as interesting and important to the plot itself

[vmeemo]

Packing Pest

For Jackie, there wasn't a lot that could make her feel 'awkward' so to speak. Though if you were to tell her that she would be meeting her mother at a café alongside Melone, that would be a slightly different story. She's not on any bad terms with her mom, quite the opposite. They've each just took different paths in life. Her mother stayed on the corporate end of the business of running an archaeological organization that does some other businesses on the side, and Jackie herself wanted to be away from the family money.

Though that still doesn't always make it easier, seeing her mom in business attire, tentacles done all well up, with both sets of inkling and octoling tentacles adorning her head and where Jackie herself gets her some of her looks from, sitting across the table from her and Melone as she drinks tea. Glancing over at Melone, she can tell that it is just as awkward with the octoling as it is for her. Melone when not on formal business gets along pretty well with her. The issue is that those times don't happen often, leading her old habits from the military to kick in, becoming more 'proper' so to speak.

Jackie clears her throat before clasping her hands together as she looks at her mom, doing her best to be proper, despite the circumstances, "So... What brings you around here?"

A little chuckle comes out of the woman as she sets down her tea, "Jackie, you know you don't have to be formal right? Technically I am on break."

"Right..."

Even with that in mind it doesn't make it any easier. Her mom shrugs before looking at Melone, "Anything interesting happen with you since the last time we saw each other? I imagine only the greatest things happening with you and your workshop."

The mention of the workshop makes Melone ease up before responding to her, "Well, workshop stuff has been pretty well. And as unbelievable as it was, something... Interesting happened with our other friend, Celia last week."

“Oh here we go again...”

"Hmm? Jackie what is the matter?"

Hearing this the inktoling lets out a disgrunted sigh, "It's nothing mom. Just Melone being stupid again. Thinks that when she was with Celia they sprayed each other with 'size altering spray paint.' It's ridiculous."

As Melone grumbled, muttering 'It did happen though...' under her breath, her mom only smiled at the idea, "Size altering paint... That would be an interesting experience wouldn't it?"

Jackie has to bite her lower lip at the thought. Her mom, despite being more on the logical side of things, never failed to at the very least entertain the other outlandish words that Melone utters sometimes. Regardless she takes a breath through her nose before letting it all out. And taking a sip of her own drink, just a simple honey tea, before putting it down.

"So what was the reason you wanted to see us?"

Her mom laughs at the question, "Oh Jackie, always straight to the point. That is like you. Well like I mentioned before, my main reason was genuinely because I have been wanted to see this place for awhile. The other was because there was some work I thought you would be interested in.”

Jackie raises an eyebrow at this, leaning back in her chair. "Go on."

The woman pulls out her phone, giving it a few taps before showing pictures of a machine to both Jackie and Melone, "We recently uncovered several machines like this one up northeast, in what would be described as an underground storage facility, not unlike the domes. We don't know what they do however, but from what our appraisal people say, they do seem to be in relatively good condition. We just don't know if they work, or if they even still have the ability to. That's where you two come in."

Melone looks at the picture, doing her best to analyze with what she has, "So you want us to see if they work or not? Sounds easy enough."

Jackie's mother nods her head, "We mostly just want an appraisal from you two, in addition to some translation work. You don't have to do this however.”

The inktoling lulls it over. The idea of analyzing something like this would be rather interesting for her. She doesn't think that it will work given the timespan but translating will just as fun, even if it is likely just what the on/off switch is. Humming to herself Jackie clasps her hands and places them on the table.

"We'll do it."

"Wonderful! I'll set it up over at your house right away! Now-" A glint appears in her eye, "How much would you like for payment?"

Jackie can just feel the headache forming at question. "None at all thank you very much."

"Oh come now Jackie." Her mother pouts, "I'll give you 100,000 G for it."

"70,000."

"90,000."

"70,001."

"Don't be so immature! 85,000 G, and that will be my final offer!"

As much as Jackie could fight about this all day, she does want to get home soon. She lets out a sigh and hangs her head, "Fine. 85,000 it is."

Her mother smiles at the accepted price, "Wonderful! I know you don't like taking payment from me, but a jobs a job. Now then-" Standing up from her chair she looks down at Jackie and Melone, "Well it has been a pleasure seeing you two again. Even if a certain someone is picky about payment." Jackie looks away at this, letting out a small huff. "I have to get back to work now, but the device will be at your place by the time you make it back. Have yourselves a wonderful day!"

As she takes a few steps away from the table where Jackie and Melone are, she looks back at Jackie, with a teasing smile on her face, "Oh and just to let you know, I do approve of the relationship with that DJ you have at your house."

This makes Jackie blush a deep blue, "Mom! It's not like that! We're just friends!"

Her mom chuckles at the defensive comment before waving the two off as she leaves the café. It doesn't take long before Jackie pushes her chair back and stands up from her seat. "Let's get going then. We have work to do."

Melone nods, leaving her seat as well. And immediately she lets out a huge breath of air. "Oh man. I am not used to being all formal like that, even after so many years."

While Jackie would disagree with that, as she wasn't all that involved, the inktoling was just glad that was over. With her mom having paid the bill for her, the two have to simply catch the closest bus in order to get back home. Fortunately they didn't have to wait long, as by the time they arrived at the bus exchange there was at best 10 minutes before the next one would arrive for the way back home.

------

(40 minutes later, the two at the front of Jackie's home)

The bus ride was uneventful as Jackie thought, but she can handle that. The object of interest however, had Jackie visibly excited for it. It has been awhile since she did any projects like this, so being able to use some of her ancient language lessons again did feel her with a sense of pride. She isn't expecting the machine to work, not at all. But if the guidebook is at least somewhat intact then that's good enough for her. Unlocking the door Jackie and Melone enter the house, the inktoling pondering what exactly this machine will look like before another question enters her mind.

"Melone?"

The octoling hums, walking ahead of her.

"Where did we say to put it exactly?"

"I don't think we ever did actually. Huh."

Jackie lets out some air before straightening herself up, "Well lets hope it isn't too bad. Maybe it's in your workshop or maybe outside."

"Fingers crossed."

Upon further entry into the living room Jackie feels some relief that they didn't decide to just place it here. She did however see someone on the couch. "O-Oh. Hey Ahato. How are things?"

Ahato looks up at Jackie and Melone, her glasses reflecting back at them, "Oh, you are back. Was good for me here. How about you? I knew that you and Melone needed to do something quick and you would be delayed because of it. Everything ok?"

Jackie was touched at the concern, shaking her head. "Everything went well I would say. Met my mother out for tea and talked a little. Not much went on there." Just as Jackie was about to say more, Melone cuts her off, smile on her face, "We're gonna be looking at some old funky human stuff as part of a job that her mom gave us. Wanna check it out? Watch us work if you don't have anything else to do?"

Ahato tilts her head at this, "Why would-" As if she remembered something, nods to herself and stands up from the couch. "Ah so that would explain those people that came by earlier with that machine I saw them moving."

"You saw it?" Jackie asked.

She nods at her question, "They were about to just put it down in the middle of the living room, but since I was still here at the time, I requested that they move it over to Melone's workshop. They seemed intimated by me for some reason, but they complied and moved it over there like I asked. It is an interesting looking device."

The inktoling is thankful that Ahato managed to stop the placement of the machine in her living room. One less thing for her to worry about. "Well don't tell me yet. I wish to see it for myself. I'll met you there Melone, I just need to grab my translating materials."

Melone nods with a smile before heading over to her workshop, leaving Jackie alone with the taller octoling. It was awkward for Jackie, but she figured that she could ask the same question Melone did. "Sooo... The offer is still up if you're interested. It might be well, boring, to someone like you, so I wouldn't blame you for not joining in."

Ahato looks down at Jackie, herself reflecting back at her in the black glasses. Then, a small, nearly unnoticable smile forms on her face, "I don't mind. You seem passionate about this, so I may as well see why it interests you so much."

The smile makes Jackie's hearts skip a beat, though she very quickly manages to get her composure back together. "G-Great! Let's get going then!" Walking beside the taller octo, the two head down the hall towards the workshop where Melone and the machine will be. Upon entering the door Jackie is surprised to see the workshop not be an absolute mess this time around. Makes it easier to work on the machine. And judging by the blue, almost partly rusted device sitting in the center of the room, Jackie has a feeling this is what they're dealing with. Glancing over at Ahato beside her she gets her confirmation when the octoling gives a small nod.

"Alright then. Let's get to work. Melone, get your tools."

Melone salutes her before running off to grab some tools for the job. Jackie meanwhile walks towards a shelf with a key sticking out of it, opening it up to show some books that are slightly smudged, but are very clean in comparison to the rest of the workshop. "Translation books in hand... Just need some paper and we should be good to go..."

As Jackie is pulling some books out, she sees Ahato nearby placing a notepad and a pen on the table. "Oh uh... Thank you, Ahato. That was nice of you to do." The octoling doesn't say much but Jackie knows that she's appreciative. Right after Ahato did that Melone walks back now with a set of tools in hand. Neither of them are sure if they'll need all of them, but it can never hurt to be sure.

"Ok." Jackie says, adjusting her glasses. "We are good to go. Now then... Let's hope that the guys brought an instruction book for me to translate..." Glancing around, she eventually sees a tablet sitting on what appears to be the control console of the machine. "Really guys... Delicate stuff here..." Picking it up off the console, Jackie places it on the table beside the note pad, turning it on. "Alright, we got something here. Mostly pictures of what they recovered, but that's par for the course. You ready Melone?"

"Ready!"

Picking up a pen, Jackie starts scrolling on the tablet, taking moments to study the writing before writing it down. She doesn't notice Ahato take a seat nearby as Melone flips open a control panel, looking over the wiring. "Yeah that's busted alright... Might be able to jury rig it though. Only need enough juice to turn it on after all."

Jackie hums at this, looking at the machine, "Going by the user manual, it's a device meant for transportation. Though of what, I haven't gotten to. Too much company jargon and not enough training in that to do proper translations. Hook up the wires and I'll look for the on switch. Things so rusted that I doubt it will even work, but it's our job to look over this sort of thing."

Melone gives Jackie a thumbs up, starting the process of putting some wires over what she believes to be the power array. Ahato on the other hand stares at the machine herself, grabbing Jackie's attention. "Something up? You've been staring at it for awhile."

Ahato looks over at Jackie before setting her eyes on the machine once more, "It just reminds me of a machine I saw on a show once. Though I can't remember what it was called, I do remember that it was informational. Something like ‘How it is,’ something like that."

"Oh I know that show!" Melone exclaims, looking up from her work, "Really good stuff there. So many specific ass machines out there, way more than what we had underground."

Jackie chuckles at the chatter between the two, gesturing Ahato to keep going with her thought as she keeps writing on the notepad, "Because of that show, the shape of this device reminds me a little bit of one of those industrial shrink wrap machines. Place the pallet of things on that inner ring there and with a roll of plastic wrap that little platform will spin as it gets wrapped."

The work pauses as she finishes saying that. Both Melone and Jackie stare at the machine sitting in the octoling's workshop, studying it. Eventually Melone speaks up first, "...Not the first time something mundane has been studied here. Happens more often than you think."

Jackie lets out a sigh at this, "You're not wrong there. Still, we have a job to do. Is everything all connected?"

"All good to go. Just tell me what to do next and I will boot it up."

Jackie hums in affirmation, looking at her notes. "Let's see... The on switch is on the side of the console, lever shaped." She looks over at the machine, seeing that there is in fact no lever on the side. "...We can work with this. There is also an emergency switch inside the console where you hooked up all those wires. Shaped like a little nub, flip it up and that should turn it on."

With another thumbs up by Melone, she sees the nub switch, flipping it up. There was no sound coming from it, nor a noticeable hum coming from the machine. After about a minute of no noise Jackie lets out a sigh, "Alright, flip it off. Seems that the power routing is fried. Wasn't expecting it to work, but still." The inktoling smiles however, "On the bright side, this is the most intact we've ever had one of these machines. It may not work, but translating the manual will tell us what exactly it was used for. And to me that's good enough."

"Sweet that you can look on the bright side of this." Melone pouts, flipping it 'off' and closing the panel, unaware that the wires that Melone hooked up had enough force to flip it back up, unbeknownst to anyone in the room, "I'm just slightly disappointed that it doesn't work. Guess time comes for everything in the end."

Jackie nods sagely at this, looking at the two octolings, "Melone if you want a break I don't mind. With the machine not working, think your job is done for now. I'll just finish translating this manual and I'll meet you out there. And Ahato-" She over at the patient octoling still sitting nearby, "I won't bore you with mumblings to myself about translation, so if you want someone to hangout with, Melone's free now."

"Yeah I don't mind. Jackie's a bit of a bore when she's knee deep in work." Melone and Jackie laugh at this. Ahato though wasn't sure, but ultimately trusts Jackie enough to stand up and stand beside the other octoling.

"If you're sure. If you need anything, just call one of us ok?"

"Will do."

Jackie eyes the two as they leave, before taking the seat Ahato sat at and gets to work translating. It's... Tedious, in terms of work. But it's something that the inktoling doesn't mind doing often. Plus she does get how fascinating these old species of people lived. Had the bone structure to stand upright, and stuck with those forms with the rest of their lives. They aren't able to shapeshift like the cephalopods of today. And is fascinating to the inktoling. Even if it's only through instruction manuals and sparse fossils of them, she gets to see how they did business and just, lived out their lives.

'What I wouldn't give to even ask someone who lived during that era what it was like.' As far as Jackie knew, there was Mint, who met an AI that existed since before their time. The issue is that it was destroyed in the ensuing battle with what was called the NILS Statue due to it wanting to destroy the world. All that knowledge and yet it chose to destroy and throw everything away for it's own purposes.

Jackie scoffs at this before refocusing on the tablet. Grumbling about the loss of potential can wait. Right now she has this thing to study and translate. Swiping to the next picture and looking at it, she raises an eyebrow at what she manages to understand.

"Sound dampeners? Why would you need sound dampeners on your machine? Like if it was something built for stuff that would be one thing, but not for this." She glances back at the idle piece of machinery still sitting there. "Ugh, because of that we had to turn it off because we thought it didn't work. Noise is good to hear. That means it's working."

Standing up from her chair and walking towards the machine, Jackie stares at it, stepping around it and comparing her notes. Eventually she lets out some air, "What am I doing? Thing's off. Not like anything is going to happen anyway."

Just as she was about to step away from it, she sees a bit of movement on the machine, the little device on the side moving up and down. Now that it is moving, it does bring to mind one of those industrial turntable wrapping machines. Package sits on the little turntable, it rotates and puts plastic wrap around cargo so that it doesn't break. While she was certain that Melone turned it off, on the other hand Melone did jury rig some wiring into it and that might've activated an on switch despite the octolings' best efforts. As she wonders if there is a slot for a roll of plastic wrap for it to go onto, it suddenly zaps her in place, causing her to drop her notepad.

"Wha-" Despite her attempts to move Jackie very quickly finds herself unable to budge even an inch. It slowly moves her onto the turntable, the thing where the shrink wrap would go moving up and down. As it keeps on moving Jackie decides that she needs Melone here, if mainly to turn it off again.

"Hey Melone!" Jackie shouts as loud as she could, "I need a hand over here! Please!"

With her request now shouted out, Jackie watches the arm of the machine move before a part of the device stops, and starts to glow. "Hey it's glowing now just to let you know!" As the glow grows brighter, she hears both octolings enter the room.

"We heard you call Jackie!" Melone says, "You said you needed help?"

Jackie sighs, smiling despite the two unable to see her face, "Yeah. Melone I need you to-"

The arm glows with bright green light, and before Jackie could finish her sentence, it lets out a loud screeching noise, blinding everyone in the room with a bright green flash. When it clears up and both Melone and Ahato are able to see, they call out for their friend. "Jackie? You ok? Fuck that was bright... Jackie?"

When their vision clears, they see the machine powering down. And a missing inktoling. "Jackie? Hey! Where are you?!" Melone dashes towards the machine, frantically looking around her workshop, "Jackie? Jackie!"

The shouting does not do Jackie's ears any favours, letting out a groan as she pushes herself off the floor, "Ooough shut up Melone... Your shouting isn't going to make me get up any faster..."

However before she could stabilize herself, multiple large quakes shot her up into the air, making for fall back onto her front. Understandably confused by the constant rumbling of the floor, she attempts to get up again, now about to raise her voice. "Melone, could you stop shaking everything! I can't focus if you're shouting right in my ear!" When she only hears the still on-going frantic stomping Jackie starts to get irritated, dusting herself off. "Didn't you hear me? I told you to knock it-"

That was when Jackie noticed a couple things. Firstly, how everything is suddenly much bigger than her, and it shows, with the workshop table towering over her. Secondly, the quakes that she felt on the floor were not just stomps of her friends. Rather, they were the frantic steps of now her actually colossal friends, making mad dashes throughout the workshop in a vain attempt to look for her.

"What... But how..." As Jackie stares up at her giant friends, Ahato is the one coming towards where she is. And that's when the inktoling registers that neither of them know where she landed. And that in about a few seconds the green octoling is about to crush her with her foot. Fueled by absolute terror Jackie makes a run for it towards somewhere. As long as she isn't crushed, she will take it. And by the skin of her beak, she just manages to get out of the way of Ahato's foot stepping on her, though due to how close the impact was, Jackie gets flown forward by the force, flying towards the underside of a tool shelf.

Jackie lands on the floor, rolling herself up in dust as she stops underneath the tool shelf. Coughing from the amount of dust she landed in she stands up and dusts herself off as best she can. Cough "Ugh that's not a great feeling for the mouth..."

Dusting off her hands, Jackie looks from underneath the shelf the footsteps running by. When it doesn't let up and she hears the shouting of Melone still Jackie knew that she needed to get their attention in some way. Pacing underneath the tool shelf, her foot catches something and she trips. Picking herself up Jackie sees that despite all the dust covering it, it is a ruler. Making it over to one end she dusts it off with her hands, getting it all over herself. After coughing the dust away Jackie makes note of how big the word 'Inch' is compared to her. Aka: She is the near exact size of it.

"Great. Just by going off of this, I am currently a quarter inch tall. Awesome." Jackie groans real loud, unheard by anyone but herself. She might as well barely exist to anyone at the size she's at. Walking away from the ruler Jackie takes another look out from underneath the shelf. What she sees are the two colossal octolings standing by the table, their lips moving but Jackie unable to hear them. She makes note of Ahato's expression, despite the glasses covering her eyes are very distressed. Her face scrunches up before letting out a bit of air through her nose.

"Alright... Just get the attention of two giant octolings while you're the size of a pencil eraser head. This should be a cake walk." Jackie knows that she is lying to herself about the last part, but she only really has two options: Stay underneath the tool shelf like a hermit, or actually do something about her condition. And the inktoling is not interested in staying under a dusty shelf anytime soon.

Walking out from the safety of the dark shelf Jackie does her best to come up with a plan. With her only being 1/4 of an inch, there isn't a whole lot she can lift. She may have to get creative with this. Keeping an eye on the two octolings in case they move, Jackie moves forward, making as much distance as she can with her tiny legs.

As expected however, the amount of running Jackie was doing did not feel good for her at all. She was winded, and took a break to catch her breath, "Ugh... So much running..." She looks up at the two octolings again, seeing that they're trying to read the tablet. "Likely trying to see if I left any notes on what the machine is. Unfortunately I didn't make it to that part yet..."

When she gets most of her energy back, Jackie takes another sprint forward towards the two, mentally groaning at how far away they are. When she stops to catch her breath again, she feels the floor rumbling. Her eyes widen and look up to see Ahato stepping towards her, the massive green foot coming towards her. In a panic Jackie tries to run in another direction. However with her body still tired from the last sprint it wasn't long before she gets winded again. The quakes become more intense, and when she looks up Jackie sees the massive shadow looming over her. As if in slow motion, the inktoling sees the foot come closer and closer to her. Her hearts start beating fast, and yet she couldn't move out of the way.

'I am about to die.' Was the thought that entered her mind. 'I am about to die and I will never be seen again, just an unnoticeable smear on my friends foot.' Her body shakes as the feeling of impending doom intensifies all throughout her body. She looks down at the ground and closes her eyes, hoping that if anything else that it's quick. Time speeds back up as the foot comes down onto Jackie.

She feels the wind rushing against her at all sides. But also another feeling; One of not being dead. She opens her eyes, seeing green walls around her. Immediately it registers in her mind what these walls were: Against all odds, Ahato's foot narrowly avoided crushing her, instead her foot landing perfectly in a spot where Jackie would be in-between the big toe and the one beside it. Despite the fact that she should be relieved that she wasn't stepped on, it only made her even more afraid. So much so that Jackie just wanted out. Out of these walls, and back underneath the tool shelf. Instead, her body takes a different approach: She swaps into her swim form, and with there being no 'ceiling' above her, the inktoling super jumps as hard as she could, not caring at all where she lands. As long as she was out of there.

Shooting through the air, due to her size Jackie doesn't make it up too far up. Though considering her near death experience, she may have shot up further than she intended, going above the cuffs of the shorts that Ahato was wearing. Nearing the side pocket, Jackie grabs onto the seam where you would put your hand into before lifting herself up, tumbling into the pocket. She does not care if it is dark inside the pocket, she just wants to be alone right now. Curling up into a ball, Jackie closes her eyes and feels the pin pricks of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. And could you blame her? She was almost stepped on! Even then, what else can she do? She narrowly escaped being stepped on, but what next? Jackie knows that due to her size, Ahato's legs may as well be a mile long to her. And if she falls it might be the end for her.

Jackie quietly sobs into the pocket, letting it all out. She's never really felt this way before, not all emotional like this. Even when she did agent work she never felt threatened by any of the Octarian forces there. Now though? Now she understands it. Understands the threat that could've happened had she not known about most of the forces beforehand. The moving of Ahato's leg rubs against her, making Jackie wipe her tears away.

'I hate this. I hate everything about this. However...' Standing up Jackie grabs a handful of pocket lining and starts climbing. Due to how the shorts are built it doesn't take her long to reach the top, poking her head out of the pocket. From where she is, she now can see Melone much closer than she did before. And can hear what their saying.

"Look, if we're going to figure out what this machine did with our friend, I am going to need to concentrate." The inktoling hears Melone say, "I didn't take as many studies in translating as she did, so it will be slower. So unless you got some memory of you being able to translate inside that noggin of yours, just leave me be."

Jackie flinches at the tone that Melone had. Looking up she could see that Ahato was just as hurt by it as well. It didn't take long for Melone to let out some air and looks down to avoid looking at the taller octoling, Sigh "I'm sorry, ok? Just- Under a lot right now. And I know you are as well. We have to know if Jackie's alright, if this is a sci-fi teleporter, or whatever it is. We need to confirm what it is, and if she is- Gone, then we should finish her work so that no one else can be hurt by these ever again. And-"

Melone is cut off as Ahato closes the gap between the two, giving her a hug, "I understand. You're under a lot of stress right now. Would it help if I got out of your tentacles?"

Jackies watches Melone shake her head, "N-No. I could use some company. Helps me keep focus, given the circumstances."

As Ahato hums at this, Jackie was just glad that they'll both be staying in the room. Might make it easier for her to get their attention. That is, if they don't unintentionally kill her first. As Ahato sits in the other chair near Melone, Jackie takes advantage of the still octo to climb up the shorts and hopefully onto the shirt without much issue. Climbing up the side however makes Jackie exhausted. What with the superjump beforehand and her subsequent breakdown at nearly dying, she is running low on energy. Her arms feeling achy is not helping either. However, given the circumstances, Jackie cannot afford to stop now. She needs to keep climbing. So despite her body wanting otherwise, she keeps going, higher and higher up the side until she reaches the t-shirt sleeve of Ahato's shirt.

Catching her breath, Jackie takes a look at the sides, debating on which side of the shirt would be safer. The front seems like an obvious choice if she wants to get noticed. However the thought of being thought of as a bug and getting swatted off that way fills her with dread and panic before she forces the thought out from her mind. The back on the other hand, despite her back leaning on the back piece was arguably the safest option of the two. Isn't able to be seen sure, but she needs a way to not get thought of as a bug first before anything else.

With the plan in her mind Jackie starts shimmying the side towards the back of Ahato's shirt, just enough for her to be out of sight of any onlookers. As she rounds the corner the octoling adjusts herself forward, making Jackie hold on tight so that she doesn't get blown away. Once she stops moving Jackie resumes her climb up, looking to her right to see the chair rest there. Even that is massive compared to her. The sight of it forms shudders down her back before climbing higher, reaching just below the shoulder. The angle forward makes the climb a bit easier though it is still a workout given her size.

Just when Jackie was about to make it up onto the shoulder, Ahato moves herself back into the chair rest. Jackie didn't even have the time to react to this before the air displacement from this action shot the quarter inch inktoling up into the air. She lets out an inaudible yell as she flies up and then falls, landing on top of the shoulder on her belly.

"Oooow...." Groaning Jackie pushes herself back up, seeing her view is now much greater than before. Which made sense considering where she was. If it weren't for her current situation, she wouldn't mind being here more often. With maybe a couple more inches of course for more comfort. Moving closer to Ahato's warm neck as the two chill on the couch and then eventually-

Jackie's face heats up at where her thoughts were going, shaking them away and patting her face, "Not the time! Think later!" Though the heat on her face remained, the inktoling was refocused on her objective. Standing on the shoulder she contemplates what she should do next before her eyes catch a glimpse of a red tinted end of Ahato's tentacle, moving ever-so-slightly. She's been trimming the front ones, making them bang-like on the sides. It being a good look for the octoling aside, Jackie gets an idea. She'll climb the tentacle, and either reach the ear for her to talk to Ahato, or she will climb up to her shades and fall just behind them. Jackie gets help either way and then they can solve this together.

With the tentacle hanging idly by, Jackie prepares to do her most dangerous action yet: Jumping onto them. As she preps herself the inktoling looks down at her claws, or rather, the blunted ones she has anyway. "Of all the times to have the inkling genes with these things..." Clenching and unclenching her hands, Jackie looks up at the tentacle before glancing over at the side of Ahato's face. Taking a deep breath Jackie walks backwards to get some distance. Once she felt that there was enough, she runs right towards the tentacle, jumping off at the very edge of the shoulder. Things moved in slow motion as the inktoling approached the tentacle in the air, and fortunately for her, things worked out as Jackie latches onto the red tipped tentacle, hanging on for dear life.

"Ho! Oh wow! I- I actually made it!" The adrenaline keeps pumping through her veins as Jackie goes from holding onto the tentacle to now attempting to climb it. The texture of it to say the least was... Odd. Though given her size, being able to feel more than what a person normally can would be par for the course. Lucky for her, her blunt claws still manage to get some traction as the inktoling climbs higher up the tentacle.

About halfway up her climb she notes that the tentacle has a small twitch to it. Jackie would have thought nothing of it, were it not for the fact that she can hear Ahato loud grumbling beside her.

"What's wrong Ahato?" She hears Melone say.

"Just a bit of dust on my hair." Jackie's hearts stop cold once she realizes what is about to happen, "Irritating. Nothing to concern you with." And to confirm the quarter inchlings' fears, she sees Ahato's massive hand come towards the tentacle that she is on.

"Nononono, not right now! Please just go away I am so close to where I need to go please!" Alas, the sanitized DJ did not hear the inchlings' pleas, as when Ahato puts a finger on the tentacle, she gives it a flick. What would've been a small one to the normal sized octoling was equivalent to a earthquake localized entirely on the large tentacle. And the worst part is that the flick was enough to make Jackie fly off of it, her blunt claws unable to keep hold.

As Jackie flies off the tentacle, she can only let out a scream as she flies back. She stops once her back hits something soft behind her, prompting Jackie to hold on as she tries to figure out where she is now. However upon looking to her right she immediately knows where she is, letting out sounds of joy. "Yes! I'm at her ear! Now she can hear me and I'll be saved! Just need to be as loud as I can."

Taking a step forward towards the ear, Jackie takes a deep breath, cupping her hands over her mouth.

"Ahato! Heeey! I'm in your ear! That machine shrunk me down! Can you help?!"

There was a bit of rumbling for a moment, until she heard one voice, Ahato's voice, respond. "Jackie? Is that-"

"Yes it's me!" Jackie shouts, relief flowing into her as this nightmare can finally end. "I'm just in your left ear! Be careful, I'm really small!"

"Umm... Sure?"

Just as Ahato was about to deal with whatever was going on there, a bit of rocking from the octoling's head makes Jackie lose her balance, falling backwards, and about to fall off of the ear, "Ahato help! I'm gonna fall! Put your hand near your left ear now please! I don't want to die!"

And like that, Jackie falls out of the one place that she was able to talk to her friend. The inktoling can only hope that Ahato heard her message before she falls to the point of no return. Jackie closes her eyes, not wanting to see what might happen should help not arrive on time.

It doesn't take long before the fall ends, though not by the floor like she thought. Opening up an eye, she sees a green floor, with the faintest indentation of a suction cup there. Looking up Jackie sees the colossal shaded face of the sanitized DJ looking down at her. While Jackie can't tell what the full emotion of what's happening with the octo, from how the lips are parted, she can see that Ahato can see her, and is struggling to find the right words to say. Eventually she settles on a few, carefully bringing her hand closer to her shades.

"Is it really you? You're so... Itty bitty."

While Jackie can feel her eyebrow twitch at the last two words, she can't blame her for saying them either. "Yes it is really me, and yes I am itty bitty. Just tell Melone that you found me so that we can get this thing working again."

While Jackie couldn't really see what was going on behind the shades, Ahato seems to have gotten the message, looking towards the other octoling, "Melone, I have some news."

She hears Melone groan, shuffling closer to the green octoling "I could hear you the entire time. You weren't exactly being quiet about that. What do you mean Jackie is itty bitty? What does that even-"

When Melone narrows her eyes at the hand that Ahato is holding Jackie on, she stops, opens her mouth before closing it, tries to ratitionalize what she is seeing before saying a few words. "Huh you weren't wrong. She is itty bitty. Like, a quarter inch at best. Jeez Jackie... Ahato could you put her on the table? I don't want to lose sight of her."

Nodding at this Ahato lowers her hand onto the table. Once she was sure that it was close enough to the ground, Jackie slides off the green hand and onto the steel table. Looking up at the giant shaded face of Ahato Jackie gives her a thumbs up just as Melone comes by with a microphone and a recorder, setting them beside the inchling and flipping it on.

"It's the best I can do for now, so lets hope that it works."

Looking at the mic Jackie walks up to it and taps it, not making too much sound on account for her size. Clearing her throat she speaks into the microphone, "Hello? Does this thing work, can you hear me?"

Melone pumps a fist close to her chest in excitement, "Yes! It works, we can communicate with you now! What happened to you Jackie, the last thing we saw happen to you was being lifted by that machine, a bright green flash blinded us and suddenly you vanished!"

Jackie chuckles at this, gesturing to her body, "Well as you can see, I shrunk down to a quarter inch. As for what else..." The inktoling looks away from the two, avoiding their looks. While the two can't really see her face, they both get the sense that something is wrong. "A-Anyways, enough about that. Melone, how did translating go? I overheard that at the very least."

While the octoling did want to press Jackie a bit more on that, Melone lets out a hum, "Well I got to the point where you wrote down 'sound dampeners' so that at least explains why we didn't hear anything when we turned it on. As for what else?" Melone pushes the notebook closer to the mic, tapping on it, "It was difficult, but I got a couple more lines done. Had to skip a few pages in order to get the information, but you understand."

Jackie nods at this, gesturing Melone to continue, "So basically from what it looks like, it's a cargo machine. I couldn't understand most of the jargon, but I think it's meant to shrink down foods and other things for easy transportation. The thing is, it's only supposed to go around 5, maybe 7 inches as its limit, leading me to believe that this was a bug caused by the age of the machine. I can make it turn you back to normal, but I would need to work on it like, right now and make sure that it's as calibrated as it can get before putting you under again."

"Yeah you do that Mel." Jackie says to her, "Get it done so I can finally be back to normal." With a thumbs up by the octoling, she immediately walks away towards the machine, kneeling down at the control panel to get to work, leaving Jackie with Ahato. It was silent for a time, though it doesn't take long for Ahato to speak first.

"What's wrong Jackie?"

Jackie looks up at the giant green octo, attempting to speak to her before realizing that she wasn't at the mic and walks closer to it, "Nothing's wrong Ahato. Just want this nightmare to finally end and just- I don't know, be alone for a bit."

Ahato simply looks at her, causing Jackie to grow irritated. "There's nothing else ok? Mind your business." The green octoling carefully placed her arms on the table before laying her head down into them. "Oh I see what you're doing. You're doing what Melone does sometimes and stays silent until I crack. Well it won't work on me, so knock it off." Ahato turns her face towards Jackie, and despite how the inktoling is cuurently feeling, Jackie can't help but feel like she shouldn't get angry too much at her. Letting out a sigh she hangs her head, just feeling all of her willpower fail her. "...Fine. I'll tell you. Just, keep it turned up. Melone should hear it as well."

Ahato nods, and while the sounds of tinkering lessen, Melone is still working on the machine. Letting out some air Jackie recounts everything. From her moment on the floor, to hiding out underneath the tool shelf. The next part makes Jackie hesitant to recount, but a reassuring look from Ahato allows her to keep going, telling the both of them how she nearly got stepped on by the green octoling but just narrowly avoided it, jumping into the shorts pocket of Ahato, everything was on the table as Jackie recounts her time as someone being a quarter inch tall. Eventually the story ends, Jackie shaking from having to recount the near death experiences she's had to endure.

"...I'm sorry." Jackie hears Ahato say. "We should've been faster. If we were, you wouldn't have had to go through with that. If it makes you uncomfortable I can leave-"

"No!" Jackie shouts, peaking the mic a little, "No you don't have to do that. Just- Seeing your faces right now is helping. And you two never meant to do that, you had no way of knowing that I was tiny. So please try to not blame yourselves for this. Ok?"

Ahato picks her head up and lets a very small smile form on her face, "...I will try."

Jackie gives her a smile of her own, which ends as soon as Melone walks over by the table, "Well I got some good news."

The two stop and look at the octoling, "The good news if that I managed to recalibrate the machine so that it can make Jackie normal again."

"And the bad news?" Jackie says into the mic.

Melone glances over at the device before looking at the area where her tiny friend is, "Due to the age of the machine, there is a chance that the 'normal' part of it might overshoot, like it did when it shrank you. In other words, it could very likely make Jackie larger than her usual size. Unfortunately, it's also our best shot. So your call Jackie."

Facing away from the two giants, the inktoling considers her options. The prospect of finally having this nightmare end is a near no-brainer for her. However in that thought another emerged, that being if she were to grow bigger than her normal, how big would she get? Would she go a few inches over? A foot? Would she fill the room or worse, break her house apart? So many possibilities, and yet her options boil down to whether or not she wants to take that risk or not. Letting out a sigh, Jackie taps the microphone, having made her decision.

"We have to take the risk. Melone, start the machine up." Jackie looks up at Ahato, eying the massive hand, "Ahato, you think you can carry me down gently?"

While she can see the hesitance on Ahato's face, she nods, lowering her hand near the quarter inchling. Latching onto the claw Jackie lifts herself up onto the finger before sliding down onto the palm of her hand. Once Jackie was secured enough onto the hand, she feels a breeze as the hand is lifted and with the slow movement from Ahato, taken over to the platform of the machine. Kneeling down, Jackie slides off the hand and stands on the platform where she stands in place. She watches as Melone does the final adjustments before whispering something to Ahato. After a nod from her, Melone steps away from the device, looking at the spot where Jackie is.

"Since I can't see you Jackie I'm just gonna assume that you're ready to go." Not bothering with a response to that, Jackie watches as Melone holds up a switch with wires connected to it, which where themselves connected to the device. "On 3 I will turn it on! I hope you're ready for this!"

When Melone says that, Jackie takes a deep breath before suddenly the beam from before held her in place once again. There was a shout from Melone, though it didn't last long before another bright flash, this time pink, blinded everyone in the room. Once the light dies down Melone calls out to Jackie, recovering from the brightness. "Jackie?! Jackie are you ok?"

Hearing Melone shout out to her the inktoling groans, "Ugh can you be quiet? My heads bothering me from that light..." Standing up Jackie walks forward a little, catching herself against something. When her eyes readjust themselves she sees the machine 'arm' beside her. And its not over a thousand feet tall like it was before.

"Hey guys?" Jackie says, wanting to be extra sure about this, "I think I'm back-"

Jackie couldn't even finish her sentence before Melone rushes forward and holds her in a hug. Despite the well intended gesture, the inktoling was not having it, remembering her near death moment between the green toes of Ahato. She pushes Melone away, breathing heavily as she does so. "Melone. Don't. Touch. Me."

The octoling winces at this and takes a step back from the inktoling. "Sorry. I just thought-" She shakes her head, "No that's not an excuse. I was just so excited to see you back to normal that I just-" Melone lets some air out through her nose as she keeps her distance from Jackie. "I'm sorry."

Eyeing her friend eventually Jackie can feel her body untense itself. She still feels on guard but she doesn't feel as much anxiety about the whole situation. "I... Accept your apology. I feel like I would do the same if our roles were switched."

The air in the room is awkward, neither person knowing what to do. It was hen that Ahato steps forward past Melone and looks down at Jackie. Jackie can feel something going down her back but it settles once Ahato extends a hand. She looks up at the green octoling before hesitantly taking it, Ahato rubbing small circles onto the top of her hand once their hands connect.

"Would you like to relax somewhere? Go watch a movie you would want to watch?" Ahato stops rubbing Jackie's hand, loosening her hold, "Or would you like some space? I cannot imagine your mental state being very clear right now given what has happened."

'And what I nearly did to you.' Was unsaid by her. But Jackie knew that much. With the soothing hand rub from Ahato it allowed her to stop her thoughts from being all jumbled up and properly think it over. Though she was hesitant she lets out a drawn out breath of air before looking up at Ahato. "I would love to relax somewhere thank you. And maybe if you're up for it I might just take you up on that movie offer."

A faint smile forms on Ahato's face as she lets go of Jackie's hand. "I would like that. If I'm not imposing I mean."

Jackie shakes her head, "You aren't. Might need it. Brain might tell me that you two are dangerous but I need to tell it that you aren't. And being away isn't exactly going to help. Just... Give me some space when we go onto the couch though. I don't think I can handle close contact yet."

Ahato nods, agreeing to the request. "Do not worry. I will respect that for as long as you need."

Jackie feels her lips tug upwards at this before looking at Melone, "I don't mind if you join me as well. If you want to at least."

The octoling stays where she is but she lifts her head up to look at Jackie, "Yeah I guess I'll join you. As long as we're as far away from this thing" She points a thumb at the machine, "as possible. Least the bright side to this ordeal is that we can just write it off and say that we've determined the function of the thing but to not use it at any cost should one be functional."

"Sounds like a good plan to me. And you know what?" Jackie lets go of Ahato's hand, looking at the arm of the machine, "I'm gonna call my mother in a bit. "Say that I want to be paid extra for everything. I deserve to be a little more selfish."

Ahato and Melone chuckle at this. Yeah she's not wrong there. "So shall we go then? The sooner the better as they say."

All of them nod in agreement and take one last look at the device before leaving the workshop. Once they're far enough away from it Jackie takes a look behind her, seeing Melone lag behind. "Say, if you want to, you can order us all pizza. And if you like you can buy those little lava cakes with it as well."

Melone smiles at this, holding up her phone. "I can do that. You two can get ready downstairs. Try and not get too comfy together."

There a faint bit of heat on Jackie's face, though it quickly fades away once the other octoling walks past the two. As Melone disappears around the corner, Jackie looks up at Ahato. "Wanna just hang downstairs while Melone's dealing with that? Or is there something you need to do as well?"

The octoling shakes her head, "I am good. We are free to go down and set up something for you to watch."

With the confirmation from the green octoling the two make their way down the hall, overhearing Melone on the phone talk to the pizza place, and the two head over to the stairs and head down a floor. Once there they each walk over to the couch with the massive 80 inch screen tv and get comfortable, grabbing the remote and seeing what movie to watch. It wasn't long before Melone came down as well, taking a seat beside Ahato.

"Well I just ordered it, so all we need to do now is wait a bit for it to get here. Found anything yet?"

"Not yet. Think soon though." Jackie flips through one of the streaming apps for something when a movie catches her eye. "Hmm... Not much to watch... But you know what? I'm gonna watch the Sonic movie. Could use something positive right about now and this silly blue guy is the way to do it."

"Aw yeah." Melone says, getting herself comfortable. "Time for movie. I saw it with Bruno, but I don't think Ahato has seen it right?" She gets 'no' in response, "Well great! We get to watch something fun and Ahato gets to see it for the first time. Win for everyone, especially once pizza gets here."

Smiling at the idea, Jackie starts the movie. As it does its introduction of studios, Jackie stands up and heads over to a closet. Opening it she pulls out a blanket and walks back over to the couch, lightly draping it over her. Melone nods in approval. "Nice. Blanket of comfort for the inktoling. Lets get this show on the road. And Jackie-"

Said inktoling looks over at Melone, "If you absolutely need it, I'm sure one of us can stay with you in bed, or at the very least set something up for you so that if you get uncomfortable then you got us to help out. You got that?"

Jackie nods, getting herself comfortable under the blanket. "I got it. And... Thanks. For bringing me back to normal."

"Yeah no worries." Melone says. While she wasn't sure if she should, the octo shuffles about another foot closer to Jackie, still keeping her space just in case. "We have your back. It's what friends are for after all."

The inktoling gives one last smile before looking at the tv screen as the movie starts proper. The final thought that goes through Jackie's head is one of content, relieved that her ordeal of being tiny is over. And while the thought of Melone's own ordeal with Celia lingered in her mind, she shakes it out of her mind. After all, there won't be any more incidents of that kind. She's sure of it.

[robertreich]

Trump signed a memo late yesterday ordering 2,000 members of the National Guard to be deployed in Los Angeles County after federal immigration agents in riot gear squared off with hundreds of protesters for a second consecutive day. Why is he doing it, and why now? Because Trump can’t stand to be humiliated — as he has been in the last two weeks. So what does Trump do when he’s humiliated? He deflects public attention. Like any bully, he tries to find another way to display his power — especially over people whom he doesn’t consider “his” people. He has despised California since the 2016 election when the state overwhelmingly voted against him. And what better Ground Zero for him to try out his police state than Los Angeles — a city teaming with immigrants, with Hollywood celebrities who demonize him, and wealthy moguls who despise him? Trump wants to escalate tensions. He wants protestors to respond with violence. Please do not give him this. Don’t fall into his trap. We cannot be silent in the face of Trump’s dictatorial move. But we must not succumb to violence. What is needed is peaceful civil disobedience. Americans locking arms to protect those who need protection. Americans sitting in the way of armored cars. Americans singing and chanting in the face of the Americans whom Trump is drafting into his handmade civil war. Americans who do not attempt to strike back, but who do what many of us did during the Civil Rights and anti-Vietnam War movements — peacefully but unambiguously reject tyranny. A humiliated Trump is the most dangerous Trump. But he will overreach. He already has. And this overreach will ultimately be his undoing. As long as we keep our heads. May we look back on this hellish time and feel proud of what we did. Be strong. Be safe. Hug your loved ones.

[karvokr]

unscripted

it was all for show– until it wasn’t. now the lines are blurred, the feelings are real, and no one remembers who’s cast in what role.

pairings: actor!gojo x actress!reader x actor!geto content warnings: mdni, smut and angst, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), infidelity/cheating themes, love triangle, fake dating/pr relationship, secret relationship, they did NOT rehearse their lines series masterlist • episode 2 >>

S1, E1: casting call

You sign the contract on a Wednesday.

It arrives in your inbox under the subject line: “CONFIDENTIAL.”

A PDF. Nine pages long. Paragraphs of stipulations, contingencies, and conditions dressed up in PR language so pristine you almost laugh. Coordinated appearances. Joint interviews with dates staggered across press cycles. Exclusivity clauses for red carpet events. “Spontaneous” candid moments approved in advance. At least four public outings a month. A shared stylist to align aesthetics without making it too obvious. No real intimacy, but enough illusion to stir the right kind of attention.

At the bottom: “Duration: Minimum 6 months. Option to renew through awards season.”

Your name is already typed in the signature line, blank and waiting.

It’s ridiculous. A fake relationship designed to sell a real story– two beautiful leads, off-screen romance bleeding into on-screen chemistry, timed just right to catch the eye of the Academy. It feels like theater. Like marketing dressed in Dior and Versace.

Your publicist says it’s “industry standard,” and your agent reminds you that an Oscar doesn’t just happen. It’s built.

And Suguru Geto is a very good brick.

So you nod. Sign. Smile.

The next morning, you wake to two calendar invites and a wardrobe fitting already on the books. Friday is a blur of meetings– PowerPoints, color swatches, talking points, binders stacked with everyone else’s expectations. You’re poked, pinned, and polished into someone just glossy enough to photograph well. Saturday is quieter, technically free, but your nerves don’t get the memo. You feel it in your chest, in your skin– the stillness before something begins.

By Sunday, Suguru Geto is your boyfriend– on paper.

It’s not like he’s a stranger. You met him once– briefly– at a film festival in Toronto. It was years ago, before your first major role, before the PR teams and stylists and publicists started forming a protective wall between you and the world. You were still wide-eyed, still watching everything like it was a dream you’d wake up from. The kind of version of yourself that lingered too long at open bars and felt guilty for answering questions during panel Q&As.

Suguru was already someone then. Not yet a household name, but he was well on his way– fresh off a Cannes nomination and a string of indie shoots that made critics go quiet in their chairs. You knew him the way everyone in that circle did: respected, rumored, slightly haunted. He carried himself like someone older than his age, like the world had already tried to take something from him and failed.

You ended up in the same green room by accident. He was tucked into the corner of a velvet couch, thumbing through a paperback that looked older than both of you. Everyone else was networking, talking too loudly, smiling too hard. He wasn’t. He barely looked up when you walked in, but when he did, he blinked like he recognized you– from the festival lineup, probably– and offered the barest, quietest nod.

You’d been introduced by someone else– your manager at the time– and it was awkward. His handshake was warm but brief. He said your name like he didn’t want to forget it. And he was polite, thoughtful, soft-spoken.

But mostly, he seemed tired. Not rude. Just spent. A little hollow around the edges. Like he was doing his best to stay upright in a space that wanted too much from him.

You remember liking that about him. Not the weariness, exactly, but the honesty of it. There was no fake smile. No attempt to charm you. Just a quiet man in a crowded room who didn’t pretend he wasn’t drowning in it.

You’d watched him from across the room later that night at a private party. He leaned against the balcony railing, lit cigarette forgotten between two fingers, eyes unfocused like he was somewhere far away. When he laughed at something someone said, it was sudden. Soft. Real. You’d only heard it once, and it had stuck with you.

The festival ended. You moved on.

You didn’t think you’d ever get close to him– not because he wasn’t interesting, but because men like Suguru Geto didn’t orbit close to people like you. He existed on a different rung. Quiet, unreachable, curated by some invisible machinery you hadn’t yet learned to navigate.

And besides, you didn’t think you’d want to. At the time, you still believed in real chemistry. In relationships built on off-camera glances and unspoken moments. You thought PR couples were hollow. Manufactured. Maybe even sad.

That version of you didn’t know anything yet. She didn’t understand how useful illusion could be.

So when they first floated Suguru’s name– your team, the studio, the awards consultants already plotting headlines and camera pairings– it felt surreal. Distant. Like a ghost reaching back from a past life.

You were already flipping through moodboards and shoot schedules when they said it. “We’ve spoken with Geto’s team. He’s open to it.”

Open to you.

The version of him you remembered didn’t do this kind of thing. He didn’t fake romance for the press. He didn’t post birthday selfies or tweet cryptic captions about breakups. He was… reserved. Controlled. Private.

And yet here he was. Signing the same contract you were. Ready to stand beside you in softly blurred photos, his hand on your waist like it belonged there. Willing to laugh at your red carpet jokes, low and close enough that the cameras could catch it– but not close enough to be real.

The first staged outing is in West Hollywood. Lunch. Alone. Private– but not private enough to escape the paparazzi’s watchful lenses, peeking through bushes and around street signs. But it’s shaded, the espresso is good, and Suguru is already waiting when you arrive.

He stands when he sees you.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t overact. Just offers a gentle smile, takes off his sunglasses, and says: “Hey. You look… perfect for the role.”

There’s a pause. He lets you laugh.

You press your cheek to his in greeting. A soft brush. His palm grazes your waist. You smell cologne– cedar, bergamot, maybe vetiver. It lingers on your dress after you sit.

The cameras click in the background, but it’s easy to ignore. For a little while, it feels like lunch.

You talk more than you thought you would. He asks about your last film– not the big one, the little indie one that barely got distribution. You’re surprised he’s seen it.

“It stayed with me,” he says, stirring sugar into his coffee. “The way you didn’t say anything in that scene by the river. That kind of stillness is hard to find.”

You blink. Most people missed that scene entirely.

When you compliment his recent performance in a war drama, he winces a little. “Too loud,” he says. “Too much grit, not enough meaning. But thank you.”

It’s rare, you think, to meet someone so deliberate. He listens. Really listens. He’s not trying to impress you. He’s not trying at all.

And that makes it easier to relax.

The lunch ends. He walks you to your car, lingering just long enough to let his hand graze your arm– not for the cameras, not to garner buzz for the movie. Just to steady you in heels. A small gesture. Unremarkable, maybe, to anyone else. But it feels intentional.

You think maybe it’s just how he is. Quietly thoughtful. Present without pressing. Almost caring, but in a way that never risks anything.

You don’t hear from him the rest of the day. Not the next morning, either.

But late the following night, just as you’re settling into the kind of silence that feels too big for the room, your phone lights up.

Suguru [11:12 PM]: Are you awake? Suguru [11:12 PM]: If not, don’t worry.

You stare at the screen for a moment– thumb hovering, heartbeat heavier than it should be.

Then you call him. It rings twice.

Then his voice, low and unguarded: “Hey.”

You sit back in bed, tuck the phone against your shoulder. “Hey. Sorry, I just saw your text.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t sure if I should bother you. It’s late.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Silence stretches– not awkward, not tense. Just quiet.

You hear a door shut on his end. Something rustling. Maybe a blanket. Maybe a cigarette box. You imagine him in some hotel suite somewhere– dim light, half-buttoned shirt, bare feet on cold tile.

“Rough day?” you ask.

Suguru breathes out. “Long. Not bad. Just… hollow.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “I get that.”

Another silence. This one more personal.

You don’t know why it’s easier to talk to him like this– through a line, without his eyes on you. Maybe it’s because there’s no script here. Just the two of you, drifting closer in the dark.

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy this,” he says eventually.

You blink. “The… PR thing?”

“Mhm.” You hear the faint creak of a mattress. “Figured it’d be fake. Cold. But you’re… not.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips. You tuck your knees up under the blanket. “You’re not what I expected either.”

“Oh?” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice, just a hint.

“I thought you’d be more–”

“Arrogant?”

“I was going to say distant.”

He hums. “Maybe I still am.”

“You’re here, though,” you say. Quiet. Honest. “Talking to me at midnight.”

“That’s true.”

You listen to each other breathe for a few seconds. It’s strange how comforting it is– the intimacy of being heard without having to perform.

“You don’t have to be anything with me, you know,” you say softly. “Off-camera, I mean.”

There’s a pause.

Then, quietly, “that’s the hard part. You make me want to get to know you.”

Your chest aches a little at the way he says it. Not fragile, but resigned. Like someone who’s used to being alone in rooms full of people. Beautiful, adored, unreachable.

“I don’t mind you,” you say, teasing just slightly.

He laughs, just barely. You wish you could see it.

“You’re easy to like,” he murmurs.

You feel warmth creep into your throat, your chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And for a moment, it’s just that. The softness. The space. The two of you suspended between pretending and something that might not be.

“I’ll see you soon,” you say eventually.

“Looking forward to it.”

You hesitate. “Suguru?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you texted.”

Another pause. This one full. 

“Me too.”

You hang up a minute later. Your phone lights up again after a few minutes. A photo– from him. A blurry one. Just your feet next to his on a sidewalk after lunch. You hadn’t even noticed a camera had caught it.

Suguru [11:46 PM]: This one feels real.

You stare at your phone longer than you mean to. Then you type: “Maybe it was.”

You don’t send it. You just watch the words sit there– half-formed, unfinished– like a secret only you know.

The next day, you're both scheduled for a surprise sighting at a bookstore in Silver Lake. The type of place where the press just happens to catch you with your fingers brushing over the same dog-eared copy of some retro novel no one’s actually read.

But Suguru gets there early. You spot him near the poetry section, tucked into a quiet corner chair like he was born to inhabit silence. There’s a book in his hands and a pair of wire-framed glasses balanced on his nose. He doesn’t look up when you walk in.

He looks up when he feels you.

You crouch beside his chair, the hem of your coat brushing his shin, and he smiles at you like he knows something you don’t.

“Tell me that’s not just for the cameras,” you say, eyeing the book.

“It isn’t,” he replies, closing it gently. “But I wouldn’t blame you for assuming.”

You end up sitting across from him on the floor, backs leaned against the same bookcase. No photographers yet. Just you and him and the faint smell of old paper and something woodsy lingering on his coat.

He reads you a line from the book– something Rilke, something sad– and doesn’t flinch when you look at him too long after. Neither of you says anything about how close your knees are. Or the way he looks down at your hand like he’s memorizing the shape of it.

Another night, it’s a low-profile dinner. Outdoor patio, dim lighting, no press invited this time– just a couple of phones in the hands of distant patrons who might or might not realize who you are.

Suguru orders for both of you without asking. You let him.

You talk about dumb things. Favorite comfort foods. Least favorite roles. He tells you about a movie he almost did, then didn’t. You tell him about the one you regret turning down. When dessert comes, you end up sharing it.

He doesn’t touch you. Not once.

But his knee brushes yours beneath the tablecloth, and he doesn’t pull away.

You wonder if he notices how close your breath gets when you laugh.

There’s a photoshoot the day after. Joint promotional spread. All silk and soft light and posing like your arms fit naturally around each other’s waists.

At one point, you’re positioned facing him, chests almost touching, eyes locked.

“Closer,” the photographer says. “Tilt your face toward him, not the lens.”

You do.

Suguru’s breath is steady. So is yours. But something in the air between your mouths feels like a wire strung too tight.

The shutter clicks.

Later, he shows you a shot on his phone. One no one else has seen yet. Your face is turned toward him. His eyes are on you, not the camera.

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you for a second longer than he should, and then locks his phone.

You text more than you mean to.

Mostly in the late hours. He sends you half-thoughts. You send him blurry photos of your takeout. He sends you voice notes when he's tired– one of them is just him humming something you don’t recognize.

You listen to it three times before you place it– Erik Satie, maybe. One of those pieces that feels like a memory you forgot you had.

You [12:03 AM]: you always sound like you're somewhere else when you talk at night Suguru [2:14 AM]: Maybe that’s the only time I’m anywhere at all.

There’s one afternoon where it rains unexpectedly and you're both caught leaving a meeting in Midtown. No umbrella. Just the two of you ducking into a covered alley behind a hotel entrance, laughing like you’ve been running through puddles your whole life.

He’s soaked. You’re worse. Makeup smudged, hair plastered to your cheeks.

He takes off his coat and gives it to you without thinking.

“No cameras,” you whisper, curling into the warmth of it. “You don’t have to play the part.”

He glances at you, a drop of rain sliding from his temple to his jaw. “Maybe I want to.”

You don’t answer. Not out loud.

But when the valet pulls up and you climb into separate cars, you realize the smell of his cologne has already settled into the lining of your sleeves.

A few days later, you’re on the rooftop of a downtown hotel for a fashion house pre-party. Your heels are too high. Your dress is too sheer. And the wind is just aggressive enough to ruin every shot the team set up.

You step aside to fix your hair and find him standing by the railing, holding a glass of whiskey and watching the skyline like he’s trying to memorize it.

When he sees you, he doesn’t say anything. Just lifts the glass in a lazy toast. You walk over.

“Cold?” he asks.

“A little.”

He shrugs off his jacket. Drapes it around your shoulders.

You both stay there a while– saying nothing, not moving. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like pretending.

Then comes the gala, and it’s all polished surfaces and curated light– a sleek event for the casting reveal of the film you’re starring in with Suguru and the opportunity to go officially public as Hollywood’s latest co-star couple.

You stand beside him for photos, and his hand settles against your back like it belongs there. Warm. Steady. Measured down to the inch.

He leans in between flashes, voice low and careful, whispering little things to keep you calm. 

“You’re doing great.” 

“Don’t lock your jaw– just breathe.” 

“You’re a natural, stop stressing.”

It doesn’t sound rehearsed. It sounds like he means it. And for a moment, you let yourself believe he does.

And then, like a needle skipping over a record, the elevator dings. The air changes. A new energy enters the room like a shift in temperature. Like a spotlight without a switch.

Satoru Gojo walks in– late, unbothered, and dressed to be looked at. White tux. Shirt slightly unbuttoned. Sunglasses dangling from the bridge of his nose like he forgot they were there. He’s in the movie too, but everyone knows he’s better suited for chaos: tabloid rumors, non-committal nights out– the kind of press you can’t plan for.

You? Tied to someone like that? No one would’ve bought it for a second.

He looks at Suguru first. Smiles like there’s history in it. Something private. Sharp-edged.

Then he turns to you.

And suddenly, the room feels too small. Too loud. You’re hyper-aware of everything– how your body holds itself, how Suguru’s hand rests on your waist, how close you are, how visible it all is.

Like just standing there, being touched by someone else, is enough to offend Gojo. Like your posture alone is a challenge he’s already accepted.

But you don’t realize what’s shifting– not yet.

Not until he starts walking your way. Not until he says your name like it tastes good. Not until the weight of his gaze makes you feel like the scene has already started– and you missed your cue.

thank you for reading! <3 ily

comment to be added to the taglist: @twilightsumu

[vaaaaaiolet]

Leon's no stickler for wedding traditions. But when no something blue has you feeling blue, he might just have a fix.

f / m fluff and cuteness before you walk down the aisle. leon is a sweetheart. one or two bad puns. you're a lil anxious but that's okay!! ft. your beloved's neck trauma </3

word count: 888 // read on ao3 // drabble masterlist

a/n: for zo from this ask. i got asked about what a wedding between leon and reader in my agent au might look like and this is SO BAD I'M SORRY. I WROTE THIS AT 1 AM WITH CLASS AT 7 THE NEXT DAY. posted on ao3 first bc i was too sleepy to make the tumblr banner 🤧 *gestures vaguely hoping you still like it*

“One peek. For half a second.”

“It’s bad luck.”

“Since when have you cared about being lucky? You’ve never needed luck to land a bullet.”

Shoulder pressed to your dressing room’s door, laughter flutters in your chest. “You don’t get it. It’s the principle.”

“What kind of fuckass principle-”

“Leon!”

“-gets to tell me I can’t see my wife?” 

“Soon-to-be,” you smile, picking at the white lace of your bodice. 

“Oh man.” You practically hear your still-fiancé’s fingers fly up to pinch the bridge his nose. “Sweetheart, you should’ve told me you were such a goody-two shoes before I put that ring on your finger.”

“You didn’t get the memo after I’ve been landing you in hot water with Hunnigan for three years now?”

Leon’s palms clap dejectedly against the door. Half-surrender, half-plea.

“For the millionth time, go away,” you giggle. You lean your back against the door. Imagine him doing the same when the wood paneling seems to press back. Breathe for a beat too many before saying, “You’ll see me in a bit, I just…I need the luck for today to be perfect.”

You think you’ve finally won when he goes silent. For a second, anyway.

“So that’s what it is.”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?” Leon asks quietly.

“What girl isn’t nervous on their wedding day?” you whisper back.

“Does it have to be? What if our wedding isn’t perfect?”

Talk about a surefire way to spike a bride’s heart rate. You frantically check your reflection in the vanity mirror. Clutch your bouquet tighter lest it fall fantastically apart at his words. 

“See, this is why you’re not supposed to be here,” you hiss at the door, “now I’m panicking!”

One last roll call. You’re sure you’ve planned for everything. Your something old: your mother’s wedding veil. Something new, the diamonds on your neck. Something borrowed: the roses you’ll carry to the altar, gathered from your maid of honor’s garden that you’ll make sure to toss back. Something blue…

“Shit!” you cry out. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my something blue, Leon, I can’t walk without it!”

“You’re sure?”

Of course you’re sure. It’s Wedding 101, the one rule you can’t break. Everything you’ve been through with the man on the other side of the door has led up to this moment. Your jobs never allowed you the privilege of making mountains out of molehills, but today? This is the moment you’d been promised would be perfect – in spite of the endless trials and tribulations the universe seemed intent on imposing on the both of you. 

Sleepless nights. Far-flung disappearances. Knives at your throats. Knives at each other’s throats that one time with the parasites. Thanklessly saving the world from the brink of disaster only to have each other to lean on at the end of the day. Over and over, falling in love with the only person who understands the fatal mistake of taking normalcy for granted. 

Just once, you wished you could have it like everybody else waiting for you to walk down the aisle. 

“Open the door, sweetheart.”

Your voice cracks. The no doesn’t come out like it should. 

A muffled swish of fabric sounds from the other side, and Leon repeats himself, tacking on a soft please this time. “Do you trust me?”

Nobody more than him.

“Just stick out your leg,” he murmurs. “I won’t look.”

An odd request. You crack open the door. Hesitantly step out your right foot. 

“Little more, please.”

If you’re not mistaken, the faintest of sighs sounds the moment you do. Leon presumably drops to his knees at the muffled thud of carpet that ensues, and it’s suddenly your turn to gasp. He’s reaching up your dress, fingers skirting over your leg, along your thigh-

“What are you doing?” you squeak, gripping the doorframe.

“Not that I’m into the garter thing, it’s kinda gross, actually – phew, you’re not wearing your holster – but maybe this will work.”

Smooth, silky fabric encircles your thigh in seconds. 

“Too tight?”

“Mm-mm…”

He chuckles softly and ducks out, taking care to fix your skirts as if nothing ever happened, looking decidedly the other way the whole time. You pull your foot back into the safety of your dressing room and bunch up your dress in confusion to find-

A navy bow tie wrapped around your upper thigh.

“How’s that?” Leon ventures hopefully.

It’s something. It’s blue. You relay this to him, disbelief eventually bubbling into laughter. 

“But now you don’t have a bow tie, stupid!”

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get rid of it? You know how much I-”

“-hate things around your neck.”

“Right?” The exasperation in his voice makes you giggle. “And they wouldn’t listen when I told them, baby. I told you, I’m hopeless without you.” 

Leon’s hand reaches out on a mission to find yours, one that it fulfils, complete with a kiss on your knuckles. A mission with ulterior motives; you pretend not to see the flash of something blue that glances up at you. The blue you can’t wait to wake up to for the rest of your life.  

“Perfect wedding or not, I just wanna marry you. Don’t you?”

You don’t save the I do for the altar.

What’s one more imperfect tradition?

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

likes kill fics :( comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[saywhat-politics]

[tiredassmage]

god. i can't believe it was june last year i put tyr in dragon age. you guys can't do this to me you can't put inquisition on my dashboard like this and expect me to be normal. don't do this to me, don't make me do this to me.

i had to uninstall it bc haha /yikes/ the amount of space i don't have on my laptop for bg3 being such a beast on space. but. but i have the console version again. god i could.

anyway jeebus its nearly 1:30 i've spent the last hour in a daze on nexusmods once again for another bg playthrough i don't need.

but i guess you can have a photodump from my inquisition captures folder bc i bothered to dig up my tag again for his run how dare you (affectionate)

[boopjuice]

Human's Are Space Orcs: Sticks and Stones

Tools are hardly uncommon in the Galactic Federation. Without them, not a single species would have been able to advance, create sustainable food sources, societies, spacecraft. But, for most species, tools have advanced alongside the species.

"Human Jane, what is that you are holding?"

"A stick."

"... Why do you have a stick?"

"In case I need to scratch my back, duh. Or to hit the engine if it acts up again."

Humans, as with much else, didn't get the memo.

Chi'l'zak had spent several cycles with humans, even spending time on their native planet and some of their interstellar colonies. Their weather was horrifying, and their culture so diverse it gave xem whiplash. It was on one of these trips that xe learned of the human's particular affinity for tools.

Xe was at what Human Sarah had called a 'beach' at one of the colonies, and xe saw as an adolescent human began to dig a fire pit. Except, instead of using a shovel, he had grabbed a nearby piece of driftwood and began to use it to dig. Xe was certain the efforts would be fruitless, the stick being rounded and not suitable for digging. But in twenty minutes there was a pit a meter deep, deeper if one counted the walls the adolescent human had made from the excavated sand.

Xe had brushed it off as human stubbornness and continued with xir trip unfazed, until Human Lake had wanted to go hiking. Chi'l'zak agreed, not truly understanding the point of simply walking up and down mountains but willing to try the experience and see if maybe xe could gain some anthropological notes on the subject. Halfway up the mountain Human Lake called a halt. he wandered into the trees for a moment and returned with a stick almost as tall as he was.

"We can rest here for a while. I've been needing a new walking stick, and this one's just gorgeous."

"But, Hu- Lake, why do you need walking assistance? You have been perfectly fine up until this point. Are you injured? Should I apply first aid?"

"Nah, I'm fine, 'zak. I don't need one, they're just nice to lean on when you're hiking. Plus their fun to have. makes me feel like a wizard, y'know? But I gotta smooth this one down if I'm gonna use it, or I'll have splinters in my hands for days."

Chi'l'zak didn't mind the rest, and took the time to simply observe the flora and fauna in the area, absorb some nutrients from xir pack of supplies, and-

*scrape* *scrape* *scrape*

As Chi'l'zak looked over, xe found Human Lake seated on the ground, legs fcrossed in a manner that was normal for humans but made xir fur stand on end. He had balanced the stick across his legs, and was scraping it with a rock he'd apparently found nearby.

"Human Lake, what are you doing?"

"Smoothing out the stick, like I said." He didn't look up from the task he'd set himself too, continuing to scrape the rock along the stick, occasionally hitting it against small branches to knock them off.

"Yes, but why are you using a rock? Surely there are better tools. I have heard tell of a common smoothing agent, 'sand paper,' that would be better suited to the task."

"Don't have sandpaper on me. Besides, the premise works the same. Rub two rough things together and the softer things gets smooth. Sure, a rock isn't going to have as fine a grain as some sandpapers, but it works in a pinch."

"but we are not in a 'pinch', as you say. We are perfectly capable of taking the stick back with us and getting sand paper."

"Look, the rock works just fine for me, and it's cheaper. No point wasting money when i have the tools to do the job already."

"Human lake, that is a rock. That isn't a tool."

"Sure it is, if you get creative enough. You can use it to smooth things, hit things, if you angle it like this you can probably use it to dig, and you could always throw it. Hell, I'll bet you this end here could be used to open that stupid finnicky pressure lock Jacob's been complaining about."

"But it isn't mean to do those things. It could damage the lock worse, or break the wrong things."

"Look, 'zak, i appreciate the concern, but a tool is what you make of it. If I've got some nails I need hammered down and all I've got to hand is a rock, then I'm going to use the rock until the rock breaks or the nails are hammered. Just because we have tools better designed for a task doesn't always mean we need to use them. Sometimes old ways work just fine."

Chi'l'zak was quiet the rest of the time Human Lake used the stone to smooth the surface of his new walking stick, and had quite the interesting talk with him the rest of the hike about old human tools, how they were used, selected or constructed. Xe learned about spears and bows and how some still used those tools for hunting. Learned of tools used in leatherworking, all made of bone since the first leatherworkers had found nothing better to work with, and modern human's hadn't either.

"Anthropological Notes: Humans are excellent at creating and using tools, as are most other species. However, humans are slow to abandon old types of tools, some using the same methods prevalent centuries ago in order to complete a task simply because they have the old tools to hand. Humans are also adept at improvising tools, able to use one item for many different functions depending on their needs.

In relation to Incident 739, human crewmembers should not be allowed to bring items such as sticks or rocks on board without prior authorization, lest the engine be completely dismantled again."

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Night in Vegas- Lando x fem reader

Summary: Y/N had been Lando's PR, it had been messy and she moved to Red Bull, but maybe things were not as bad as she thought.

Warnings: Abusive Max (Sorry someone had to be the bad guy) smutty ending.

Notes: No hate to anyone this story just needed a villain.

___________________________________________

The moment the job offer came from Red Bull you didn't think it twice. You had been Lando's PR for the last 2 years, which was kind of a nightmare. He had the worst cases of verbal diarrhea, not that Max didn't but the paycheck was worth the extra work. Also, the interactions with Lando had always been weird and uncomfortable.

He was so nice and funny around everyone else but you, whenever it was just you two, you could hear the grass grow. In the beginning, you tried to get to know him, create somewhat of a bond so you could understand him better and work around that info, but every time you tried to get him to tell you something about him he would shut you out, keeping his answers short and dry.

And here you were, your first six months as Max PR agent were...interesting, he was a master in driving but thanks to his dad and the people around him, his public image was a challenge, a challenge you loved to work, at least you did until he started showing his real self. It began with small tantrums, mood swings when an interview had been scheduled when he had agreed to go play paddle, or that one time on a bad day when a reporter asked him about his dad's history with the law even when you had precisely warned them not to ask about any of that.

But that was all fun and games until tonight's event for the Vegas GP. Usually, the US GP's parties were a nightmare. Tons and tons of media people and influencers with little idea about F1. Yet they were important to attend because of the amount of rich people the teams craved as their lawful sponsors, so all the drivers were requested to go. This meant an awful fight with Max who hated these events where he had to "prostitute" himself for a couple of millions, it was particularly tricky now that some pictures and supposed messages showing Kelly might have been cheating, surfaced. You promised him to warn everybody that any questions about his personal life were off the table for any of the interviews, but American media cared little about that.

"Are you stupid or something?" His angry voice was so much like his dad's. Dry, hurtful, and insulting even when he wasn't using big curse words.

"Max, I told everyone personal questions were off the table. I sent a memo last week and a reminder this morning" You walked following him closely as he exited the event venue. Your heels making it difficult for you to keep his pace.

"I don't care!" He stopped and turned towards you abruptly, making you crash against his body. "If Christian gives me any shit about not being here I will make sure he knows this was all your fault" His voice loud and angry felt even more intimidating as he was towering over you, his red face so close to yours you could feel the heat radiate from it.

"But-"

"Shut it, I don't want to hear it" He spat.

"Hey, mate, easy" You both turned to look at the curled hair driver approaching at a firm pace.

"Lando, this has nothing to do with you"

"It does when you're talking like that to Y/N" He gently held your arm pulling you back, placing himself between you and Max.

"How did you deal with this shit for two years? she's the worst"

"I disagree, she's the best"

"What? Why are you defending her?" Max looked in shock from Lando's intervention, and to be honest, so were you.

"Because I know the mess you are and you talking to her like that is unacceptable and most likely uncalled for. We should've never let her go, I've begging Zak to get her back and after this, there's no way I'm letting her stay at RB"

"What the fuck? I don't...Wait, did you two ...? She must be a good fuck if you want her back so bad" A bitter laugh left his chest.

There it was, the angry verbal diarrhea.

You wanted to jump in and tell him you had never even crossed two complete phrases with Lando, how the hell were you going to fuck him? But no sound left your body, you were just a passenger in this trainwreck.

"Max, come on, It's not her fault your life's a fucking mess and that you have no idea how to deal with it. And take it from me, mate, you don't need a PR manager, you need a therapist."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Max took a couple of steps forward and faced Lando menacingly. He wasn't much taller than the Brit but seemed angry enough to cause damage.

"This is enough" You finally spoke, your voice shaky as you grabbed Lando's arm trying to pull him back. But he didn't move an inch.

"I'm not afraid of you mate" Lando hissed.

"Ok enough" You said in the most motherly voice ever and stepped in between them. "Lando, thanks but that's enough. You two don't want to do or say anything you'll regret later"

"See you on the track, mate" Said Lando as he took your hand and pulled you toward the parking lot.

You walked with him still in shock from the situation, expecting for him to let go of your hand as soon as you were out of sight from Max, but he kept going until he reached the Valet and gave him his ticket.

"Thanks fo that" You tried breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I think I need to go back there tho, I might not have a job tomorrow, but I don't need them to fire me because of not complying with my duties, Maybe I can find Max and convince him-"

"If they don't fire you, you're quitting" He said as he typed on his phone.

"What?! No, I can't do that, I can't afford to lose my job"

"You'll have a job"His voice was confident as he kept typing.

"Lando, I really-"

"Your car, Mr.Norris" The valet cut you off opening the passenger door for you.

"Get in" Lando walked toward the door to hold it himself.

"Lan-"

"Get in... please" He finally looked at you, something in his eyes telling you to do it. Not wanting to perform another scene now in front of the valet, you got inside the fancy McLaren. Your feet thanked you for the much-needed rest after the little sprint.

He removed his suit jacket, got in the driver's side, and drove off.

"I swear, you're not going to be jobless, you can stop with the bouncy leg" A hint of a laugh in his voice. Of course, he could laugh about it, he was worth millions, if he lost his job that same night, he'd have enough money to live comfortably for two lives.

Your phone started ringing in your bag. Chirstian's face on your screen made your heart beat a thousand miles. You could almost hear him, his calm yet angry voice made your skin crawl.

"Don't answer him, there's no need"

"Lando, you don't get it, it's not that simple"

A ding on his phone and a pop-up notification on his console screen called your attention.

Zak: Fine, I'm ok with it, we can talk details tomorrow.

"See?" He said smiling at the notification. You stared at him confused.

"I promised him I would behave my best for the rest of my contract if they took you back. Welcome back to Mclaren" A big smile on his face. It was odd being on the receiving end of that smile.

"Sadly, you won't be working with me. You will be part of the team's PR, I think that's an even bigger paycheck, tho"

"Ok, stop stop stop" Your voice filled with slight panic. "What the fuck's happening?"

"Wow, your first bad word" He was way too entertained with the situation.

"That you know of" Your facade was off, screw being professional, this moment was a moment for panic.

Christian's number shined on your screen again.

"Hello" You finally answered.

"Y/N, I just got a thousand messages from Max, and from the team at the event, what's going on?"

"Christian, Max lost it after some journalist asked him about Kelly, I had clearly said no questions about that were allowed"

"You should not have left Max to leave the party, we need him back there"

"I tried to stop him but-"

"No buts, Y/n, that's your job"

"No"

"What?"

"No, that's not my job, I'm not a babysitter, I'm a PR agent, I should not be dealing with tantrums and the equivalent of being spit in the face by an angry baby just because he's Max Verstappen"

You took a deep breath as the man on the other side of the phone kept quiet. Netflix would kill to have footage of this situation.

"I quit" You finally said

"What?" His high-pitched voice told you he was as surprised as you by the words leaving your mouth. You turned to look a Lando, he had the biggest smile on his face.

"I quit, Christian. I can stop by to sign my resignation tomorrow."

"But-"

"I'm sorry but I have to go now. I will stop by your office tomorrow to sign whatever is needed and to return my credentials. Have a good night" You hung up with shaky hands. As much as you sounded confident you were screaming inside.

"Nice" Lando's accent so thick.

"Oh my God" You placed your head between your legs and took deep breaths, trying not to faint.

"It's ok, it will all be ok" You felt his hand run softly up and down your back which felt weirdly soothing and calming.

You finally felt calm enough to lift your head, realizing he had pulled over at a truck stop next to the highway.

"What the fuck just happened?" You closed your eyes, the world felt as if it was spinning out of orbit.

"It will be ok, you were amazing"

"I will regret this tomorrow"

"I could help you with that" he said under his breath, you barely catching his words.

"What?"

"Never mind. Listen, you'll be fine, you'll join the team for the next season, and you can take this time as a well-deserved vacation"

"What are you talking about? Maybe Zak only told you that so you would stop bothering him. I can't wait until the next season. Oh my God, I need to call Christian back, if I apologize and explain that I was drunk or something he might not fire me" you said as you fumbled with your phone trying to get your shaky hands to get your calls.

"Stop, no, Y/n" In a swift move, Lando took your phone from your hand.

"Give it back! This is all your fault!"

"What?!"

"If you had stayed out of this I might have convinced Max to go back to the party and none of this had happened" You said as you almost jumped over him to get your phone back as he moved his hand around keeping you away from it.

"Oh c'mon, you wouldn't have lasted two more weeks with his annoying ass, I love Max but he's a pain" He sounded way too entertained by all this.

"Lando, stop it! Give me back my phone!"

"No, you have to calm down"

"No, give it back" you were almost kneeling over the seat.

"Y/n, stop"

"No"

"Y/n!"

"NO, GIVE IT-" Before you could finish your sentence his free hand grabbed you from your neck and pulled you toward him, his lips crashed into yours, finally getting you to stop moving. You even stopped breathing.

After a couple of seconds or hours, you weren't sure anymore, he let go of the fist he had formed around your hair and pulled back. His cheeks flushed as if he had been the one who had gotten kissed out of nowhere.

"Have I been drugged? Am I hallucinating? This has to be a weird trip"

His particular laugh sent chills down your spine.

"C'mon, it wasn't my best job but I'm not used to kissing people as they're having a panic attack, I needed you to calm down"

"And kissing me was the best you could come up with?"

"You're not thinking about your phone or Christian anymore, are you?"

"You're sick"

"Listen, I'm sorry I did it like that, ok? I stepped over a boundary and I apologize, but I know that after this you might hate me for the rest of your life and this seemed like the only moment I was going to be able to do it, so I'm sorry but not really"

"You can't go around kissing people just because"

"I didn't do it just because"

"What?"

"Y/N, I'm fucking in love with you!" He screamed.

"What?" Your voice is barely a whisper

"I'm sorry, I was dumb ok?"

"I'm not getting any of this"

"Ok, I'll explain. It took me about 2 months to fall head over heels for you, ok? You're smart, incredibly beautiful, funny, and so good at your job, it was hard not to fall in love with you. But I know I can be an asshole, so trying to stay away from you and not ruin everything I behaved like an even bigger asshole, pushing you away and into Red Bull's arms. So as an apology, I've been having talks with Zak. this has been going on for months. So no this just didn't come up, Max just made it easier for me to set the plan in motion"

You stared at his proud face in awe.

"Are you breathing?" He asked when not. single sound had left your body for a long time.

"You're in love with me?"

"Um yeah" He blushed and almost looked away but he didn't.

"For the two years we worked together, you were in love with me?"

"Yeah, basically"

"You have a shitty way of showing love"

"Sorry" he laughed under his breath

"You're nuts"

"I know" As soon as he saw you had calmed down he stretched his hand softly caressing your cheek. "I'm nuts for you"

"Ew, don't"

He laughed, the sound making you feel something new.

"I don't know"

"What?"

"What's going on"

"Maybe another kiss might help? I'm actually asking this time"

"Ok" You answered in a low whisper.

"Ok" He softly whispered as he took you by the neck, and pulled you toward him. It was a mutual kiss now, your lips dancing with his. His tongue traced your lips and they parted allowing your tongue to start a fight with his.

The kiss heated up as his other hand grabbed your hips and pulled you over him. Your ass pressed on the horn startling both of you and making you laugh, but quickly you returned to your make-out session.

His hand shily traveled down your spine and stopped over the soft satin fabric covering your ass. You knew exactly what he was trying to test, so you moved yours down his chest, feeling his racing heart, and traveled down all the way to his pants. You could feel his growing bulge and gave it a squeeze. He moaned deeply and gave a slap to your ass, making you moan too.

You were about to unbuckle his belt but his hand landed over yours.

"Wait, do you actually want to do this?" he asked out of breath.

"Yes" Your voice shaky from the excitement.

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you or-"

"Lando, I want you to fuck me"

Your words sent an electric shock through his body, you could even feel his dick twitch under your hand.

"I'm all yours" He smiled and moved his lips to your neck, you threw your head back giving him space to explore it and its sensitive areas. He gave soft bites around it, as he stretched to the glove compartment getting a condom out of it.

"You're a manwhore"

"I was just manifesting this"

"Sure" you answered squinting your eyes.

"I promise, You can ask Oscar, I've not had sex for months"

"I don't need to know that"

"Yeah you do, I swear I wasn't going to use this with anyone else, I promise"

He was most likely lying, but you decided to believe him, at least for tonight.

"Fine" You said as you took the condom from his hand and opened it as your lips went back to his.

He helped you by pulling down his pants and his boxers enough for his throbbing cock to spring out and slap his stomach.

"Hello Mr. Norris" You said with a cheeky smile

"Don't act so surprised"

"Sorry"

He now took the hem of your dark blue dress and pulled it over your hips, softly caressing the soft flesh of your thighs and ass. He moaned at the feeling of no underwear under it.

"You're naughty"

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me"

"I love it" He said and bit your lower lip as he placed you over his hard cock. You took the condom and without breaking the kiss you rolled it over his dick, enjoying the feeling of the heat and the veins that ran through it.

He couldn't wait any longer and as soon as he felt the condom in place he lifted his hips entering you in one deep thrust making you moan loudly from the incredible feeling of being so full.

"Fuck, Lando" you said as he started thrusting. A slow yet hard pace made your eyes roll to the back of your head, as he held you one hand by the neck the other one caressing your ass.

"Fuck, you're so fucking perfect" He moaned against your tits that were spilling out your dress.

He took one of your nipples in his mouth, pushing you closer to your release.

You had forgotten when was the last time you had sex, but none of your previous experiences could compare to this one. Lando being a manwhore was quite a benefit.

His hips hitting against yours at such a perfect pace was driving you crazy. He could tell by the way you were pulsing around him that you were close. This was probably a record and he was going to savor it.

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and just a couple of circles helped by how wet you were pushed you over the edge, loudly moaning his name in his ear. That sweet sound looped in his brain, making him reach his climax shortly after.

"Fuck" he finally said after you two had reached a decent breathing pace.

"Shit"

"Fourth curse word of the night"

"Shut it" You said as you pushed yourself off his chest and kissed him.

"I'm going to love having you around again"

"Me too"

"Well, Max was right about one thing" A cheeky grin on his face.

"What?"

"You're such a good fuck"

"You're a dick" You slapped his chest as he pulled you back to kiss him.

This was probably going to be a mess, but at least for a couple of months you were unemployed and free to date whoever you wanted, that included F1 drivers who would probably be off limits once your contract started, but that was a problem for your versions of the future.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

[jester-privilege]

Villain Stone is definitely what I'm hoping to see from Sonic 4, so I tried my hand drawing him - mind you, in my design he's a bit of a hot mess, with Robotnik's old coat repurposed and patched up, and with longer hair and beard (and the sunglasses, just because those are fun).

Then I ended up deciding to write a short piece for this Stone, which could be a beginning of a longer fic. Text under the cut:

Stone gives himself a year to grieve. A year for the Earth to rotate, for the people to recover. To forget. 

He doesn’t stay idle, of course. He uses the emergency bank card in his shoe to leave England. Flies back to the United States. Rents a car and drives to Idaho. 

The Doctor liked the idea of putting a secret bunker in Idaho, mostly because nobody would ever expect it to be in Idaho. 

Stone stocks up on food at a nearby town, and hunkers down. For the first two months, he looks at trees. Eats. Reads the Doctor’s old notes, downloaded once he was able to connect to the private network. And he thinks. 

When Stone was thirteen, a couple came to the orphanage. Friendly, wealthy-looking, hopeful. For some reason, they spoke to Stone, who gave off one-word answers. The next day, Stone was pulled into the director’s office. Told that there would be another meeting with the couple, with the prospect of fostering him, with adoption in mind. 

When the couple came back, a few days later, Stone made a point of walking up to a boy two years his senior and breaking that boy’s nose. He still remembers the couple’s shocked faces - the director’s panic, the boy wailing in surprise as blood poured down his face. That boy, who Stone had found annoying at the time, had looked at him with an expression he could not back then quite parse. It wasn’t until later that Stone recalled that he’d been smiling. 

Smiling, Stone learned later, in the right context could put people at ease. 

After a few months, Stone starts to plan. He runs out of supplies fast, but he has emergency funds, he has contacts, and he has a pick-up truck. For the next few weeks, Stone hunts down mechanical and electrical parts, and calls in favours. In the evenings, he begins to build a database of G.U.N, collecting schematics and personnel files. It helps that he still remembers where the bodies are buried, and which people are the weak links. 

Around month six, Stone travels back to London, purchases a coffee shop near the G.U.N headquarters, and takes it over. It’s a particular favourite of many of the bigwigs in G.U.N, and Stone makes sure to keep the operations running exactly as they did before. Give or take a few listening devices. 

One time, the Doctor had asked him if he was dating anyone. Of course, he hadn’t phrased it quite like that. 

“So, should I presume that you have some sort of paramour, Agent?” Robotnik had said, his head bowed towards the chip he was soldering. “Note my lack of assumptions about their gender. Don’t care, don’t need to know, read the HR memo!” 

Stone had swallowed down his initial response, which was to point out that Robotnik had asked. Instead he smiled, standing attentively with the tool case in hand. 

“I’m unattached, Doctor. Free as a bird.” 

Robotnik gave him a sharp glance, with something odd flashing across his face, there one moment and gone in the next. He’d turned back to his work, moustache twitching. 

“What, no takers? Pretty pathetic, Stone, I gotta say. At least I have the excuse of my prize-winning personality.” 

“I’m not interested,” Stone had said, mildly. “I don’t like most people.” 

This, for some reason, had attracted the Doctor's attention - the man had turned and looked at him again, brows raised.  

“You don’t like people? You, Stone? You’re always grinning at everyone like an idiot!” 

Stone had grinned at the Doctor, like an idiot, just happy that the Doctor paid that much attention to him. 

“Adapting certain positive mannerisms makes it easier to navigate social interactions, Doctor. The only person I actually like is you. Everyone else I simply tolerate.” 

The Doctor had looked at him for a moment longer, studying him. He wasn’t the first person Stone had told about his lack of interest in the general humanity, but he was the first one who didn’t look at him like he was some kind of a monster. Of course he didn’t. He was the Doctor. 

“You’re an odd little man, Stone,” Robotnik had said then, his voice tinted in genuine amusement. “No wonder you made such a good merc. You little sociopath, you.” 

“Not diagnosed,” Stone had responded cheerfully. 

“Huh! Well, whatever - at least I don’t have to worry about you running off to fornicate with some Suburban Sally, or - Barbeque Bob,” Robotnik had added hastily. “No assumptions, of course.” 

Stone had bitten the inside of his cheek, to swallow his initial response. Not very work appropriate. Instead, he’d just smiled. 

“Of course, sir.” 

Doctor Robotnik had been the only person he’d cared about, and now he was gone. 

Stone barely sleeps. He stops grooming himself. The shadows of the bunker grow longer, twist and turn as he works through the nights. Whenever he closes his eyes, the shape of the explosion burns inside his eyelids. 

He’d been content, for as long as the Doctor was by his side. He’d been happy to be domesticated, to be soft.

He’d been happy. 

By month twelve, Stone packs up his meager possessions and loads them into his truck. The time for grieving alone was over. He was ready to share the pain. With the whole world.

He starts the long drive towards Montana.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Google’s new phones can’t stop phoning home

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most brazen lies of Big Tech is that people like commercial surveillance, a fact you can verify for yourself by simply observing how many people end up using products that spy on them. If they didn't like spying, they wouldn't opt into being spied on.

This lie has spread to the law enforcement and national security agencies, who treasure Big Tech's surveillance as an off-the-books trove of warrantless data that no court would ever permit them to gather on their own. Back in 2017, I found myself at SXSW, debating an FBI agent who was defending the Bureau's gigantic facial recognition database, which, he claimed, contained the faces of virtually every American:

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2017/mar/11/sxsw-facial-recognition-biometrics-surveillance-panel

The agent insisted that the FBI had acquired all those faces through legitimate means, by accessing public sources of people's faces. In other words, we'd all opted in to FBI facial recognition surveillance. "Sure," I said, "to opt out, just don't have a face."

This pathology is endemic to neoliberal thinking, which insists that all our political matters can be reduced to economic ones, specifically, the kind of economic questions that can be mathematically modeled and empirically tested. It would be great if all our thorniest problems could be solved like mathematical equations.

Unfortunately, there are key elements of these systems that can't be reliably quantified and turned into mathematical operators, especially power. The fact that someone did something tells you nothing about whether they chose to do so – to understand whether someone was coerced or made a free choice, you have to consider the power relationships involved.

Conservatives hate this idea. They want to live in a neat world of "revealed preferences," where the fact that you're working in a job where you're regularly exposed to carcinogens, or that you've stayed with a spouse who beats the shit out of you, or that you're homeless, or that you're addicted to Oxy, is a matter of choice. Monopolies exist because we all love the monopolist's product best, not because they've got monopoly power. Jobs that pay starvation wages exist because people want to work full time for so little money that they need food-stamps just to survive. Intervening in any of these situations is "woke paternalism," where the government thinks it knows better than you and intervenes to take away your right to consume unsafe products, get maimed at work, or have your jaw broken by your husband.

Which is why neoliberals insist that politics should be reduced to economics, and that economics should be carried out as if power didn't exist:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/05/farrago/#jeffty-is-five

Nowhere is this stupid trick more visible than in the surveillance fight. For example, Google claims that it tracks your location because you asked it to, by using Google products that make use of your location without clicking an opt out button.

In reality, Google has the power to simply ignore your preferences about location tracking. In 2021, the Arizona Attorney General's privacy case against Google yielded a bunch of internal memos, including memos from Google's senior product manager for location services Jen Chai complaining that she had turned off location tracking in three places and was still being tracked:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/01/you-are-here/#goog

Multiple googlers complained about this: they'd gone through dozens of preference screens, hunting for "don't track my location" checkboxes, and still they found that they were being tracked. These were people who worked under Chai on the location services team. If the head of that team, and her subordinates, couldn't figure out how to opt out of location tracking, what chance did you have?

Despite all this, I've found myself continuing to use stock Google Pixel phones running stock Google Android. There were three reasons for this:

First and most importantly: security. While I worry about Google tracking me, I am as worried (or more) about foreign governments, random hackers, and dedicated attackers gaining access to my phone. Google's appetite for my personal data knows no bounds, but at least the company is serious about patching defects in the Pixel line.

Second: coercion. There are a lot of apps that I need to run – to pay for parking, say, or to access my credit union or control my rooftop solar – that either won't run on jailbroken Android phones or require constant tweaking to keep running.

Finally: time. I already have the equivalent of three full time jobs and struggle every day to complete my essential tasks, including managing complex health issues and being there for my family. The time I take out of my schedule to actively manage a de-Googled Android would come at the expense of either my professional or personal life.

And despite Google's enshittificatory impulses, the Pixels are reliably high-quality, robust phones that get the hell out of the way and let me do my job. The Pixels are Google's flagship electronic products, and the company acts like it.

Until now.

A new report from Cybernews reveals just how much data the next generation Pixel 9 phones collect and transmit to Google, without any user intervention, and in defiance of the owner's express preferences to the contrary:

https://cybernews.com/security/google-pixel-9-phone-beams-data-and-awaits-commands/

The Pixel 9 phones home every 15 minutes, even when it's not in use, sharing "location, email address, phone number, network status, and other telemetry." Additionally, every 40 minutes, the new Pixels transmit "firmware version, whether connected to WiFi or using mobile data, the SIM card Carrier, and the user’s email address." Even further, even if you've never opened Google Photos, the phone contacts Google Photos’ Face Grouping API at regular intervals. Another process periodically contacts Google's Voice Search servers, even if you never use Voice Search, transmitting "the number of times the device was restarted, the time elapsed since powering on, and a list of apps installed on the device, including the sideloaded ones."

All of this is without any consent. Or rather, without any consent beyond the "revealed preference" of just buying a phone from Google ("to opt out, don't have a face").

What's more, the Cybernews report probably undercounts the amount of passive surveillance the Pixel 9 undertakes. To monitor their testbench phone, Cybernews had to root it and install Magisk, a monitoring tool. In order to do that, they had to disable the AI features that Google touts as the centerpiece of Pixel 9. AI is, of course, notoriously data-hungry and privacy invasive, and all the above represents the data collection the Pixel 9 undertakes without any of its AI nonsense.

It just gets worse. The Pixel 9 also routinely connects to a "CloudDPC" server run by Google. Normally, this is a server that an enterprise customer would connect its employees' devices to, allowing the company to push updates to employees' phones without any action on their part. But Google has designed the Pixel 9 so that privately owned phones do the same thing with Google, allowing for zero-click, no-notification software changes on devices that you own.

This is the kind of measure that works well, but fails badly. It assumes that the risk of Pixel owners failing to download a patch outweighs the risk of a Google insider pushing out a malicious update. Why would Google do that? Well, perhaps a rogue employee wants to spy on his ex-girlfriend:

https://www.wired.com/2010/09/google-spy/

Or maybe a Google executive wins an internal power struggle and decrees that Google's products should be made shittier so you need to take more steps to solve your problems, which generates more chances to serve ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Or maybe Google capitulates to an authoritarian government who orders them to install a malicious update to facilitate a campaign of oppressive spying and control:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragonfly_(search_engine)

Indeed, merely by installing a feature that can be abused this way, Google encourages bad actors to abuse it. It's a lot harder for a government or an asshole executive to demand a malicious downgrade of a Google product if users have to accept that downgrade before it takes effect. By removing that choice, Google has greased the skids for malicious downgrades, from both internal and external sources.

Google will insist that these anti-features – both the spying and the permissionless updating – are essential, that it's literally impossible to imagine building a phone that doesn't do these things. This is one of Big Tech's stupidest gambits. It's the same ruse that Zuck deploys when he says that it's impossible to chat with a friend or plan a potluck dinner without letting Facebook spy on you. It's Tim Cook's insistence that there's no way to have a safe, easy to use, secure computing environment without giving Apple a veto over what software you can run and who can fix your device – and that this veto must come with a 30% rake from every dollar you spend on your phone.

The thing is, we know it's possible to separate these things, because they used to be separate. Facebook used to sell itself as the privacy-forward alternative to Myspace, where they would never spy on you (not coincidentally, this is also the best period in Facebook's history, from a user perspective):

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

And we know it's possible to make a Pixel that doesn't do all this nonsense because Google makes other Pixel phones that don't do all this nonsense, like the Pixel 8 that's in my pocket as I type these words.

This doesn't stop Big Tech from gaslighting* us and insisting that demanding a Pixel that doesn't phone home four times an hour is like demanding water that isn't wet.

*pronounced "jass-lighting"

Even before I read this report, I was thinking about what I would do when I broke my current phone (I'm a klutz and I travel a lot, so my gadgets break pretty frequently). Google's latest OS updates have already crammed a bunch of AI bullshit into my Pixel 8 (and Google puts the "invoke AI bullshit" button in the spot where the "do something useful" button used to be, meaning I accidentally pull up the AI bullshit screen several times/day).

Assuming no catastrophic phone disasters, I've got a little while before my next phone, but I reckon when it's time to upgrade, I'll be switching to a phone from the @calyxinstitute@mastodon.social. Calyx is an incredible, privacy-focused nonprofit whose founder, Nicholas Merrill, was the first person to successfully resist one of the Patriot Act's "sneek-and-peek" warrants, spending 11 years defending his users' privacy from secret – and, ultimately, unconstitutional – surveillance:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/03/depth-judge-illstons-remarkable-order-striking-down-nsl-statute

Merrill and Calyx have tapped into various obscure corners of US wireless spectrum licenses that require major carriers to give ultra-cheap access to nonprofits, allowing them to offer unlimited, surveillance-free, Net Neutrality respecting wireless data packages:

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/09/22/i-have-found-a-secret-tunnel-that-runs-underneath-the-phone-companies-and-emerges-in-paradise/

I've been a very happy Calyx user in years gone by, but ultimately, I slipped into the default of using stock Pixel handsets with Google's Fi service.

But even as I've grown increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of Google's Android and Pixel programs, I've grown increasingly impressed with Calyx's offerings. The company has graduated from selling mobile hotspots with unlimited data SIMs to selling jailbroken, de-Googled Pixel phones that have all the hardware reliability of a Pixel, coupled with an alternative app suite and your choice of a Calyx SIM and/or a Calyx hotspot:

https://calyxinstitute.org/

Every time I see what Calyx is up to, I think, dammit, it's really time to de-Google my phone. With the Pixel 9 descending to new depths of enshittification, that decision just got a lot easier. When my current phone croaks, I'll be talking to Calyx.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/08/water-thats-not-wet/#pixelated

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

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