#Best Selling Computer Science | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

parfaitblogs · 11 months ago

Note

ive got quite a few... but we will start off simple and with something ive been DAYDREAMING about for a while

so reader is a new forensic scientist that started a lab in office for easier analysis of evidence (garcia reasonablism and best friendedness obviously) and earlier seasons reid likes to go in and hang out with her often and just be with her and they are both idiots in love and the first kiss is super rushed and akward; TEETH ROTTING FLUFF

i am too cryptic i fear but i will sell my left kidney for this fic PLEASE

spencer reid x forensic scientist!reader. fluff. 1.4k words. s1 spence!! descriptions of a case (typical cm stuff). std discussion? sorta? it's about a victim. reader doesn't have one don't worry. they're nerds your honour.

a/n: i am SO sorry this took me so long?? writing fluff is not my strong suit (clearly). i researched bacteria for this fic. and std's. if penelope garcia looked up my search history she would ask why i'm asking about how to treat chlamydia. if the science talk is wrong, no it's not this is MY alternate reality. also i am but a wee acting major i know nothing about science? ANYWAYS thank u for the request angel it was so fun to write i hope i did it justice ♡

"Hey... I brought coffee."

Your head lifted from the computer screen you had been staring at for the past hour and a half, blinking your eyes to readjust to a light that wasn't blue — you were a big believer in warm toned overhead lights or nothing, and it was your first order of business upon getting a lab in the Quantico building.

Your eyes softened upon recognising the man in your doorway, and your hands outstretched towards him to take the paper cup from him.

It was a particularly gruelling case — a man putting victims through a meat grinder (charmingly so) meant your ability to positively ID victims based on... well, anything you'd usually ID them on, was out of the question. You were down to tampered with blood samples, and you were getting nothing.

"Angel. Sent from heaven, I swear," you said, taking a sip of the warm, sweet (because anybody who drinks coffee black should be locked up) beverage that would help you in the long run. Spencer Reid's lips twitched into a smile — anxious, like the rest of him usually is whenever he's in your lab — and he dropped his gaze to the floor with a small shrug.

"I thought you might need it. I know it's hard. This case," he said, and you nodded your head with an affirming nod.

"Tell me about it," you mumbled, spinning around in your chair, back to your computer, waving him over. "See this?" you pointed to the list of findings in one of the samples.

Your breathing hitched when you felt him behind you, not expecting him to be so close, his own breath audible by your ear.

He hummed quietly as he read through the list, and you turned your head to the side to look at him. His lips were pulled into a frown as you watched him register everything — and God, was he pretty. "Yeah... Salmonella, Enteritidis, Listeria... they're all bacteria you can find in chicken. Raw chicken, to be precise. Did they send you chicken blood by mistake?"

"That's what I thought," you said, snapping out of your Reid-induced-haze, and clicked at your computer until you pulled up another list. "But then I found these as well; Streptococcus mutans, Porphyromonas gingivalis, Fusobacterium and Lactobacillus. From the same sample. And I cross-checked it with all of them, and they're all like that. So I sent that to Garcia and asked if she could do some looking into butcher shops in the area, and she came up empty. So now I'm at a loss."

"Weird," he murmured, leaning further forward over your shoulder to stare at the screen a little more intently, and you found your breath hitching at it. Again.

"What do you see?"

"Chlamydia trachomatis."

"Oh. Yeah, all of the samples have it," you explained, and he nodded his head, before turning it to look at you.

"Well, what do you do when you have a sexually transmitted disease?" he asked.

"Me? I don't—I don't know. I've never had a—" you cut yourself off when you saw his lips twitch into a smile, and your brain caught up with what he had just said, and your lips parted in an 'o' shape in realisation. "You'd go to your doctor."

"And if they all have it, then that means that—"

"—it's the UnSub whose got it," you cut him off, eyes lighting up as you sat up straighter. "Oh my God, I don't know how I didn't make that connection. Spencer Reid I need to reiterate that you are an angel sent from the heaven above, I could kiss you."

His eyes went wide, and his entire being froze, followed swiftly by you yourself freezing too, words you let spill past your lips registering a second too late.

He stared at you. You stared at him. It was an awkward game of who would look away first, and it went on for hour long minutes. You needed to clear your throat but refused to, your lips opening and closing as you searched your brain for something — anything — to say to break up this tension.

"Are you serious?"

It was a meek whisper, and had you not been so hyper focussed on his lips, you probably would've missed it. You forced your gaze up to his eyes, catching the red tinge on his cheeks, mirroring your own. You decided if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you wouldn't complain.

"I mean, no," you force past your lips. A sentence you soon sorely regret when you watch a flicker of what you recognise to be hurt flash across his face. Maybe your brain made that expression up. Maybe it didn't. If it did, it was too late to consider that option, because you were already rambling again. "Unless you want me to be serious. In which case yes, I am totally serious. If not, then I'm not."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and an embarrassingly nervous laugh left your lips.

"Yes. I'm serious," you finalised. Because at least if he found that embarrassing and didn't feel the same back, you could kick him out of your lab and avoid him until you manage to swap units. Or move halfway across the world. Whichever came first.

Neither needed to come first, it seemed. Because his tense body shifted, turning to face you, his own eyes seemingly locked on your lips, the same way yours were only minutes prior.

"Is it okay if I..." he trailed off, a hesitant hand reaching up to your face, waiting for your confirming nod before his fingertips relaxed on your cheek. You weren't even kissing him yet, and you already felt that nervous-excited mix pooling in your stomach.

He was in the same boat as you, his own breathing hitching when you didn't pull away instantly from his touch. But then he simply stared at you, for maybe a minute too long, because an exasperated sigh left your lips before you could stop it.

"You know, you actually have to put your lips on mine to kiss, Spencer," you say, and though your intent wasn't to fluster him, you did.

"Yes, I—um, I know. I've just never... what if I screw this up?" he stammered, and your lips pulled into a smile.

"Worst thing you can do is be a bad kisser."

"That's embarrassing."

"Just a little," you agreed with a nod, watching his face fall, and you laughed at the expression. "I'm kidding. It's not that hard, and you're good at everything."

"Not this."

"You don't know that."

He fell silent, and you knew you had won the verbal argument — he was certainly still disagreeing in his mind, but he was always good at picking his battles.

But you knew he was never going to kiss you first. Not when one hand was flexing weirdly by his waist, unsure of what to do with it, and he was so awkwardly holding one cheek with the other.

It was the only reason why you placed two palms on his own cheeks and pulled his face towards you. He let out a shocked yelp that had you laughing for only a second, cutting the sound off short with your lips on his.

Spencer Reid was in fact good at everything.

He was hesitant at first, and you wondered if he was ever going to kiss you back. But he did, and then you wondered if he was lying about never kissing anybody before.

Because he was insanely good, and the way he kissed you was maddening and addictive and it seemed you were (addictive) as well, for he was chasing your lips even when you tried to pull away. So you didn't, and instead allowed him to keep kissing you with so much pace and force you thought you'd break.

"Spence... can't... breathe," you gasped out, and he pulled back in an instant, his eyes going wide.

He was stammering out apologies that fell on deaf ears, because you were staring at him and he was gorgeous. In every sense of the word. With hair that had fallen into his glassy eyes, cheeks as pink as his lips that were screaming to be kissed again, need for oxygen be damned.

And actually, if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you would complain. Very loudly.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x self insert #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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freeluigihesbae · 5 months ago

Text

𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖) - 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏

(5,534 words)

summary:

You and Luigi are coworkers for TrueCar, but you've never met in person. You've been flirting around on Slack and exchanging messages as of recent, which seems to become an invitation for him to entire your life. And body.

He accepts and soon, you do too.

𝗍𝗐: 18+ !! 𝗀𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗀𝗂, 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋/𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝗎𝖻𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁

TrueCar was the best thing that happened to you. You'd moved from the east to the west coast after attending both your undergrad and graduate years of schooling at Stanford and finally decided that California was the place for you. The weather was fine other than the earthquakes, wildfires, and other disasters hitting the state but you simply ignored them all. As a Computer Science major, jobs were becoming harder rather than easier to find. Your degree was no longer a scarcity but then...

then TrueCar happened. The position was hybrid - both work in-person and virtual - which would come to show how they were far ahead of their time and unknowingly prepared for the pandemic that was going to erupt in a year's time. The main form of communication was Slack, which really was a professionally themed copycat of Discord, but no mind. Everything you did and said was posted and discussed in the several channels that constantly pinged your phone as the app became your new source of corporate social media. You managed to make friends in your new team, having video-calls and occasional meet-ups at nearby bars when time-permitted. In-person was fine but working from home was really the best thing you could ask for.

A few months pass and you see the news about the pandemic. The president is waving his hands in a downward motion, saying everything will be fine, but the coming weeks seem to disprove it. The case numbers are rising and your company decides to go fully virtual, whether this becomes a serious issue or not.

Thank god because you could definitely need it. At the same time, it seems like the company was undergoing re-arrangement which meant everyone had to switch around with team members and projects that they were working on. It seemed cruel, in a way, that they were trying to compensate for the comfort they gave by dipping employees into new arenas on short notice.

But little did you know it would be the best thing that could ever happen to you.

❧

Today is the biggest meeting of the company because you just got approached by one of the biggest car retailers in the world and they want to implement a new program to make vehicles more affordable. They'd be giving away thousands of cars to be exclusively sold on Truecar's website, and you were in charge of convincing them why Truecar was the best option for it.

"Ladies and gentleman, thank you for joining us today. On behalf of TrueCar, we are incredibly honored to have your time and interest in pursuing the deal you have proposed to us. It is my understanding that our consistent increase in sales is what convinced you to approach us, is that correct?" You ask with a brightness in your voice, desperate to get this deal under your belt.

"Absolutely. We were, are, and continue to be pleased with how well your company advertises the use of second-hand and lower priced cars in order to increase the market and frankly, decrease the stigma around it. Cars are cars and as a car company, we are in the business to sell." A man's voice responds in confidence and an undertone of I'm impressed to go alone with it. It makes you smile as your bright teeth are on display for all of the stakeholders, company employees, and members of the interested party to see.

"That's wonderful. The increase in sales that you are seeing are impressive, but I believe it's our methods which are better than the results. The way we have approached sales includes elements of morality and passion. We want to give our customers the best cars for the best price, but we never forget the need to make money. We have and continue to strike a delicate balance which has benefitted our company." You pause, allowing pride to swell in your chest as you click to the next slide, which has a bunch of graphics you spent hours understanding with the help of the responsible parties who made them.

"These graphics are based heavily on the cost-benefit principle. To give a little more background, we use microeconomics to understand our customer because the fundamental exchange or our country's currency starts and continues in the hands of the people. How do we approach the company from a consumer perspective? We did several surveys and found..." You continue with your speech, going through each and every graphic while answering questions that pop-up every now and then, until you get to one specific graphic.

Luigi Mangione's.

He was one of the brightest employees at TrueCar and had a stellar reputation amongst everyone, but strangely enough, you never got the time to know him like everyone else did. But, since re-organization happened, this project was practically catapulted into your face. You found out it was being done in several parts through terrible communication and had to message nearly every single employee (200 private conversation would make a case for this statement, even if it isn't true) and one of them was Luigi Mangione. He responded in haste and detail which was exactly what you needed during such a hectic time. He had volunteered several hours of his time over the past three weeks, hopping onto Slack calls and Zoom meetings whenever you requested them. You can't find a single time when he said no which made you wonder if he was even doing his work.

Of course he was! That's why he was given his project too.

Let's not forget, you are totally into him. That was the worst part because you knew he must've had so many other girls pining after him, probably shooting him meetings and asking questions like dumb blondes would and trying to waste his time. You can't help but indulge in his features and his face every night, wondering what it would be like if...

Back to business.

You land on his graphic which was the most complex and detailed, but highlighted the best of the best points about the company which you knew would make the executives before you swoon. It was a fun experiment and session where you could prove to him that you totally got it.

"This is one of the most important points that we have here. We have a table showing you all a hypothetical scenario in which, it would seem like Option A is the best answer for our first question. But in our second questions, Option B seems more suitable. What you are seeing here is the framing effect, which several if not all companies use to dupe and cheat money out of consumers. We take that out. We cut through the bushes and give customers details that they can read with simplicity in order to make the best decision because buying a car is one of the most expensive purchases someone can make. When we treat our consumers with the respect they deserve, they'll give us the business back. They'll invest in not just the website or the cars, but in us." You speak in smooth, complex sentences which unravel simplicity with skill. You're praying that Luigi is watching, perhaps smiling and impressed, because your eyes are forced to stay trained on the screen in front of you and analyze the graphic like you haven't done so already. You add a few more details before ending and opening up the room to questions.

A few hands go up and you answer them like 1+1 was being thrown at you a hundred times. Your answers are filled with expertise and you make the best impression, getting well wishes and successfully landing a deal which is going to take your company to new heights.

The meeting ends and you let out a sigh of relief before getting flooded with congratulatory messages and hundreds of mentions in the, well, hundreds of channel that you are apart of. Everyone is cheering you on and it makes you smile, but you're really waiting for one specific message.

And it finally comes.

Luigi Mangione: Hey that was a grt presentation. You aced my graphic I'm so impressed.

The message nearly sends you over the edge as you squeal embarrassingly loud, trying to contain your excitement and surprise? Because wow, even you didn't know you were this into him.

You: omgggg thxxx ur so sweet 💘

You add the emoji for your own satisfaction, hoping cupid gets the message across to the man you're keening over right now.

Luigi Mangione: Ugh so cute. Slack call? Do you have a few?

You heart jumps. Did he just call you cute and THEN propose a call? You're rushing to the mirror to do a few fix-ups but thanks to your preparation for the meeting that just happened, you were looking smoking hot to talk business with Luigi.

And maybe, something more.

You don't answer and instead, press the video call icon at the top right, waiting for him to pick up. You turn your camera on while graciously using the time he takes to pick up to stare at his profile picture. His thick eyebrows and sharp nose draw you in like you'd seen him for the first time. His smile was disgustingly charming and-

He picks up. His face pops up on the screen as he gives a wave.

"Hey there." He does his infamous eyebrow raise before laughing out loud and you giggle back.

"Stop, oh my god. I couldn't have done nearly as well if you and so many others hadn't spent hours explaining this to me. The credit goes to you guys." You say, but your eyes and glued to the side of the screen where he's sitting back in his chair, upper torso in display as he is in a short sleeved compression t-shirt. Talk about details and noticing them at the wrong time.

"You talked to others?" Luigi folds his hands and you think you're going to have an orgasm right there. Fuck, the veins are popping up softly under his skin and you're thinking to yourself one hell of a reward would having his biceps around your neck. He seems to catch you staring.

"Hey pretty. Heard me?" Luigi smirks and you snap out of your trance before staring right into your camera.

"Y-Yeah I had to talk to like, 20 other people. You know, like Josh, Andrew, Ashley, and-" You stop, feeling yourself get stressed just having to think about the gruesome three weeks where you had to sit and listen to everyone explain while taking notes furiously. Your fingers would often hurt after these session, which wouldn't be helped by your everyday ministrations having orgasms, screaming Luigi's name and having terribly dirty fantasies that you wish he could fulfill.

Dreams.

"I wouldn't think the explained things as well as I did, did they?" There's a streak of something in his eyes, which darken when he asks his question. Is it jealousy or pride? You're trying to figure it out but he quickly replaces it with a smile.

"No Luigi. They didn't. They didn't at all." You answer back before giving him a wink, feeling bold at what you just saw in his eyes. He finds himself surprised, as his hands slowly rub his triceps and god...

He knows exactly what he's doing. Your eyes are following their movement, taking note of his long fingers which you just wished were inside of your right now.

"Oh I know." Luigi says and your eyebrows furrow.

"What do you mean?" You ask, intrigued by his statement. His eyes go wide before you chuckles out.

"Can't a man be confident in his abilities m'lady?" He asks, a seductive voice intertwined with his question. You gulp before giving him a smile.

"Yes can do my knight in shining armor." You answer cheekily and this time, he winks at you.

"I'm getting pinged by my team. Talk to you later after your pilates at 6." He states this with amusement in his voice but you feel your heart drop.

Because you do have pilates at 6.

"W-Wait how do you know that?" You ask, unable to stop the stutter that makes it's way past your lips. Your smile is at half-mast now, unable to decipher whether this man was just great at guessing or he really knew your schedule.

"Women are predictable. I'd assume you are too?" Luigi smirks before you get a chance to answer. "Does that work?" He asks, tapping his fingers across his abdomen expecting an answer. You let your eyes linger there for a second too long before giving a soft yes and that does it for him.

He puts the phone down and you're left with thinking about how time can go faster, simply waiting for him to call you back.

❧

Pilates couldn't get done any faster, as you had your weekly catch up session with your friend, Bea. She knew everything about Luigi and she was a trusted companion since her type was different.

Entirely different.

It was actually women.

"Oh my god Bea you wouldn't believe it. He told me I was fucking cute after the meeting and somehow, he knew I had pilates at 6." You're walking out of the glass doors, as Bea sighs behind you.

"You know this guy could show up at your apartment unannounced and you'd let him fuck you." Bea snorts and you giggle, letting the thought sear through your core.

"You know I think I would. I wouldn't complain at all." You emphasize the all at the end of your sentence because you have to admit, you were a less innocent than your face cared to show. You liked the idea of him thinking about you when you weren't looking and although it might've been scary, you wouldn't mind if he fucked you senseless.

You actually needed it really badly.

Bea can see how gone you are in your thoughts about him, so she gives a shake and a quick bye before you return it, walking over to your car. You start the engine, steeling yourself and clearing your thoughts so you can drive home safely and call him as soon as possible.

Finally, your car gets into the driveway and the exhaustion from your pilates session scurries away into the dark corners of the world (your car?) and you hurry inside, slamming your door shut and locking it before throwing your shoes off and making your way up the stairs.

You're about to call Luigi on Slack, maybe send a message asking for his number before an unknown number sends you a message.

Unknown: Hey there.

Something about it feel strangely familiar, like how Luigi had addressed you in your earlier Slack call. Normally, you never respond to unknown messages but this one...

this one really drew you in, making something of an obligatory pull bloom inside of you. You slowly type a hey, who's this? back and hit send. To your surprise, the response comes quicker than you'd imagined.

Unknown: Luigi

You swallow hard, pulse beating against your sensitive spot on your throat a little faster. You didn't actually think it would be Luigi, but hey, all is fine. Maybe a coworker gave your number, you think, but it still doesn't sit right because in the time you've been with the company, you only ever gave them your second work number... not your personal.

You: Funny. How'd you get this number?

Luigi: A coworker.

So far, you buy it. You ignore the gut feeling and suppose that it must've slipped and spread across your coworkers at some point since the most recent project had several overlaps with other team members you worked with in the past.

You: So..

Luigi: So...? Do you want to keep typing or can I hear that pretty voice of yours?

He did not.

You: We can call how about you call me this time? I was nice enough to ring you this morning. You end the message, hitting send and smirking.

Luigi: We don't have to call if you don't want to.

Ugh, mean. Was it really that hard to press the call symbol? You wanted to hear his voice though, so you give in and ring him yet again.

The line is going through and you put your stuff down, opening your fridge to heat up some leftovers from earlier last night. You rummage through your stuff, trying to look for that orange-lidded box but it's nowhere to be found. The line is still ringing, so you put the phone down and walk around your kitchen, wondering if you were stupid enough to leave it outside. Nowhere. You check the trash, empty. You're scratching your head at this point and you finally walk over to the sink and to your horror, it was licked clean with remanants of the food on the side with the fork still inside. Luigi's voice scares you at the same time and you jump.

"Hey there." He says, in the same tone he had this morning. You can hear his smile but your breathing is too heavy as your back is pressed against the cool fridge. You swallow the saliva before stepping forward and picking up the phone on her island.

"Jesus, you scared me Luigi." You say, half-focused on him while you're trying to figure out why your leftover tupperware is in the sink. It's making you feel unsettled.

"I don't think I'm a scary person. Is everything alright?" His voice is laced with concern now and you feel yourself calming down, explaining the situation.

"Y-Yeah I'm fine I'm just confused because my leftovers are in the sink and I'm starting to think I sleep eat now." You answer him with amusement and he gives a deep, heart laugh back. It sounds hot, you note, thinking about what it would be like if his voice was in your ear right now. You still can't help but turn around and glance at the box.

"Must be a good cook. I know I'm a sucker for some good Thai food." He breathes it out with the same amusement in your tone and this time, you feel a shiver down your back. Your leftovers were a pad see eu takeout from your favorite Thai restaurant and his answer seemed a little too close for comfort.

"Are you?" You ask, darting your eyes around the room because it's not feeling so comfortable in the house anymore.

"Yeah. Wouldn't you say we have a lot in common?" His voice a bit more stern now but he's asking her with innocence you can't tell whether is real or feigned.

"Like what?" You keep your question curt like the last, slowly walking into the living room and checking the sides and corners to make sure no-one is there. No-one is. You sit down on the couch, trying to control your heart rate.

"Like how we both like Thai food. That's a good start." Luigi answers with surety in his voice and the air feels thinner now.

"I never told you that, so how do you know?" You try to maintain your composure but your voice starts to shake.

"Now I do. Thanks for confirming." Luigi has an irritating attitude in the laugh he lets out.

"I wasn't trying to." You answer, rapid fire. Every sound outside starts to make you jump as you're looking over your shoulder.

"Now, why so jumpy? You seem scared." He teases you, mocking the hesitation in your voice. Your skin is shivering and you're 99% sure someone is watching you.

"I'm not scared Luigi. Just making conversation." You're still talking into the phone, but you slowly get up, making your way upstairs. You know you might regret this, but you have to be absolutely sure because Luigi isn't making you feel too good right now and you're trying your level best to ignore the suspicions your gut is feeding you right now.

"Conversations aren't usually this... high-strung. Are you okay?" Luigi responds, shifting his tone from something dangerous back to concern and you know he's fucking with you. You know this man is trying to screw around with you.

"Great. Great Luigi. You still haven't told me how you know I like Thai food." You snap at him, unable to contain the stress your feeling as your head is spinning.

"I wouldn't be so rude if I were you, baby." The name slips from his tongue and you freeze. Something hot blazes across your skin as you realize you like that. You want that. You've been wanting it and finally, you just got it.

It doesn't clash to well with your increasing heart rate because if anything, it makes it shoot higher. You let out a sharp exhale.

"You like that don't you?" You stepped into your study room on the top floor, checking the windows to make sure they're locked and opening the doors, squeezing your eyes shut and praying no-one is hiding there. Clear. But his question makes you nearly whimper and you find yourself nodding before you stop, stepping back out of the room and back into the foyer.

"I don't." But it's a lie and you can feel it. You can feel your conscience eating away at you, begging you to tell the truth.

"Don't fuckin' lie." Luigi growls, spite and another emotion dripping across the phone and that's when you hear a creak downstairs.

Fuck.

"I'm not lying Luigi. I don't know what you're trying to do right now." You raise your voice before checking the bathroom quickly and as you wished, nobody is in there. You finally make your way down the foyer to the very end, feeling your chest tighten as you prepare to step into your bedroom. Your fingers twist around the doorknob and you practically throw it open when you hear another creak downstairs. You shut the door and lock it, running into the closet and climbing into the attic crawlspace.

"I'm just asking questions and you are lying to me." You're terrified now because this isn't the Luigi you are quite used to.

"You're freaking me the fuck out Luigi. That's what's going on." You hear a step on the stairs and throw your hands over your mouth. Someone is in your house and you think you know who.

But you're praying this is all a trick of your mind.

"It's okay to open up, you know. You can trust m-" "Shut the fuck up Luigi." You shout into the phone before cutting the call. The relief washing over you is better than any medicine you've ever taken, you have a newfound confidence as you press your ears against the wall of the crawlspace. You can hear some sounds from outside and birds chirping which is comforting. You wait for ten minutes and when you don't hear anything and your phone, thankfully hasn't rang from Luigi again, you open it up, making your way down into the closet.

You still step into your bedroom with utmost caution, but you can't seem to take it seriously. Your strides become more confident as you open your bedroom door and nearly missing the wave of panic you feel when you see the foyer.

No-one.

You laugh, thinking Luigi was just acting like a creep but you walking to the bathroom, fixing your hair and letting your ponytail loose. Your mind keeps reeling back to the conversation with him, replaying the way he called you baby and it was just too fucking good.

Too bad he didn't call again. You almost missed his voice but the panic was worse, so mostly, you were glad. You walk back into your bedroom, sliding your sweatpants off and realizing your clothes are everywhere, running around in boxer shorts. You manage to grab a fresh pair of pajama pants which you throw onto the bed before taking your shirt off and letting it slip to the floor. You shiver a bit, just left in your bra. Another top catches your eye and you slip it on, appreciating the cropped fleece.

But something raises a red flag.

Earlier, when you entered the room, it was warm. Quite warm, actually, because you had the heater on the entire day to combat the winter weather. It took all but five minutes for that to disappear? You're staring at the window and realize.

The window was open.

Open.

The window was open.

And as if it couldn't get worse, the phone rings and you nearly trip over the clothes on the floor.

It was Luigi.

Your hands are shaking as you let a cry out, hugging yourself. You place the phone up to your ear before sobbing out a Luigi? quietly.

"Yes baby?" His voice is right next to you, behind you in the slightest and you let out a primal scream which is quickly muffled by a strong, unrelenting hand that gets pressed into your mouth, fingers threatening to choke you. You writhe and squirm against the hand but quickly, another arm grabs your neck and turns it to the side.

It's Luigi alright.

"Missed me baby?" His grips your throat tighter and you can't stop the fear driving your arousal past a previous breaking point, feeling heat spread across your body and absolutely relishing the light-headedness his hands were giving

The hand leaves your throat before a slap lands on the side of your thigh. You bend forward, ass brushing against his crotch before placing your hand on the now blooming red print.

"Fuckin' answer me slut." Luigi's voice is dripping with desire, demanding an answer of you. You slowly remove your hand from your thigh, letting it hang in the air as it shakes impossibly hard.

"Y-Yes." You mewl it out and you can hear his breath hitch before his arm is circling around your waist, pushing your head back into place as you face forward. That hand starts to feel around, teasing over your breasts and down your navel. You whimper, letting tears rush out as his cold fingers are playing cruel games with your skin. He flips, suddenly, grabbing a breast and you feel your knees nearly buckle.

"N-No." You attempt to stop him weakly but he just laughs, gripping harder. He does let go after a few choice squeezes, pushing you onto the bed and flipping you around as you face him and you see him in all his glory. His eyebrows are knitted together as you watching eyes swim with desire. His neck is strained, chest heaving as he is trying to restrain every filthy desire he's waiting to hurt and pleasure you with. His arms are flexed, veins pulsing as he waits and waits.

His eyebrows furrow deeper before his lips curve into a nasty, sly smirk.

"No? No? You fucking slut." He grips your throat and this time, takes the liberty of letting it cover the entire diameter. Your eyes go wide as you pull on his single arm, feeling your breathing get harder and harder.

"I don't know why you're lying to me. I've heard you fucking this pretty cunt with these tiny fingers, moaning my name every single night. I've watching this pretty ass," he stop to turns your lower body around and give your ass a nice slap, letting it echo in the room and watching as the pleasure makes you choke out a sound, something akin to a gurgle. He smiles, letting go to let your gasp and take air in before his hands are on your throat again. You feel yourself trying to get out of his grasp, trying to process how in the world he could know you were masturbating to him and why his hands felt so good around your neck. The deprivation was simply delicious and you wanted more.

"I've watched you ass bend over and split into two at pilates. Been watching you everyday for the past few weeks. Been watching you show my ass to everybody else in that class. I've watched men walking by ogle and just the thought of them staring at your makes me wanna-" Luigi groans, palming himself through his sweatpants. His grip on your throat as lightened up, but you dare not move.

"Makes you w-wanna what?" You gulp, wondering what he would say and he stares down at you, cooing at your glossy eyes that stare at him in fear and wonder and an impossible amount of

submission?

"So glad you asked. Makes me wanna hurt you first. Makes me wanna fuck you with my fingers and slap your ass so hard you cry my name out." Luigi fingers trail down to your shorts, sliding in between your legs as your moan, slowly rolling your hips against his fingers. The touch feel electric, sending waves into your core and you can't stop. Your eyes close until you realize his fingers aren't there anymore. You cover your face with your hands, suddenly overwhelmed with the reality of the moment.

But he has other plans.

He grabs both arms, pulling them down with one hand before slapping you across the face with another. You let out a sob, the pain stinging but still making you pulse between your legs. You can tell he knows by the small sighs he lets out, pressing his bulge against it.

"Can feel you pulsing. You little painslut. That's what you are, isn't it baby?" He starts grinding down on you faster and you can't help but let the sensations get to you, struggling to let free of his grasp because you desperately need to thread and grab his hair in yours fingers, but instead he presses down into your stomach, watching you wince at the discomfort.

"If you don't talk I'll make you bitch." God the insults are just perfect, turning on parts of your brain you didn't know exist. You keep silent, indirectly telling him to keep going. His eyes widen before he tears the top off, making you scream.

"What happened to the cunt that was aching for me, hm? What happened to that pretty voice moaned my name when work was over? Where's that pretty body that was arching off the bed every time you came huh?" Luigi slaps your breast and you moan, crying his name out in a harsh exhale which he bends down and drinks up, devouring your mouth with his tongue. You feverishly reciprocate, desperate for his validation and constant touch on you. "Please." You let out a quiet, slutty noise that makes him groan. His fingers thread into your hair which you starts pulling without mercy, adding to the pain by biting into your neck and you think he might tear it off.

"H-Hurts Luigi. It hurts." You are feeling more pain than pleasure, attempting to let him know how you feel but a part of you knows that he won't listen he won't care. He'll do whatever he wants and in the case he does slow down, it'll all be for his benefit.

"You're gonna take it anyways." He flips you around, forcing your body onto all fours and the sensations of the moment make you arch your back, sticking your ass up in the air which he adds to, pushing your neck sideways and down into the bed. You yelp as you feel another hand smoothing over the entirety of your back, going lower and lower until your stomach is nearly touching the bed and your ass is directly on his crotch. "You haven't answered any of my questions and if you don't," you here something click and shake, which you find in the corner of your eye.

A gun.

"I promise I'll make it hurt baby you want me to hurt you?" He's bent his body now, entirely draping himself over your backside and whispering into your ear, juxtaposing the absolute threat with a sweet, honey-glazed voice. You let out a slow breathing before moaning through your words.

"Don't hurt me Lu." You say this, breathing in slowly as you savor every shift in his position, taking in a slightly sharper breath when his hands start roaming around atop your ass. The lack of pressure makes you un-arch your back, taking solace in having space but a hand is back on top, pressing down.

"Move and I'll make you cry." He takes the gun, pressing the cool metal in the space between your legs, feeling yourself impossibly wet as his slow, circling motion imitate his fingers that were on you earlier. "W-What were you asking-" You wanted to be the perfect little girl and answer his questions which have flown out of your mind, but he's pulled the gusset of your underwear to the side and shoved the tip of his gun inside your cunt, watching the juices flow right down and onto the trigger.

"Oh I'll take my sweet time and make sure I get all of my answers." He keens with a soft, soothing the voice that betrays his next motion as he shoves the entire length in, forcing your to clench and sob at the pain.

He wasn't playing games. He was playing you.

part 2

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione smut #class consciousness #eat the fucking rich #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn #the claims adjuster #deny defend depose #angelluigiposts #luigisexual #um yes i love this man

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millysilly123 · 9 months ago

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This is the Not So Berry Challenge in the Sims 4 but Base Game version! Enjoy!

Gen 1: Mint

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Jealous, Materialistic

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Career: Astronaut

Rules: Master astronaut career (Lvl 7), Complete Chief of Mischief aspiration, master mischief and logic skills, complete the elements collection and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 2: Rose

Traits: Hot-Headed, Snob, Romantic

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Career: Business

Rules: Master the business career, complete the Serial Romantic aspiration, leave someone at the alter, get married for the first time as an elder and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 3: Yellow

Traits: Clumsy, Ambitious, Loner

Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Career: Freelance Programer

Rules: Master the programming, rocket science and handiness skills, complete the Nerd Brain aspiration, must complete ten sculptures via the woodworking table as a teen, must build a rocket ship and visit Sixam, enter the secret lot in Oasis Springs (requires max handiness), never have any close friends or relationships other than grandparent from generation one until the grandparent dies and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 4: Grey

Traits: Active, Slob, Music Lover

Aspiration: Bodybuilder

Career: Athlete

Rules: Master piano, guitar and athletic skills, master the athlete career, compete the Bodybuilder aspiration, have three failed relationships before finding a spouse, marry a neat sim, be good friends with all of your children, have at least one family dinner a week where everyone is present at the same table while eating the same meal and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 5: Plum

Traits: Genius, Non-Committal, Bookworm

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Career: Fast Food, Tech Guru, Entertainer

Rules: Master video gaming and two other skills of your choosing, achieve at least level eight in six skills (including the three you master), complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration, get divorced and later remarried to the same sim, must live in both Willow Creek and Oasis Springs over the course of your life and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 6: Orange

Traits: Evil, Self Assured, Glutton

Aspiration: Public Enemy

Career: Criminal

Rules: Master cooking and charisma skills, master the criminal career, complete the Public Enemy aspiration, must live in a cheap starter home (under 12k) for entire young adult life, have twins but only have those two children (you may use cheats for this) and insist on being evil (claim to be a criminal mastermind) but have no one believe you.

Gen 7: Pink

Traits: Neat, Loner, Creative

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Career: Business

Rules: Complete the postcard collection, master writing and gardening skills, complete the Best Selling Author aspiration, have a well maintained garden, quit day job as an adult to pursue dreams and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 8: Peach

Traits: Foodie, Lazy, Goofball

Aspiration: Joke Star

Career: Secret Agent

Rules: Marry a co-worker, must play an instrument, master gourmet cooking and comedy skills, master the secret agent career, must live in a different world than the one they were raised in and have at least one child (more if you choose). You can choose if you want to complete the aspiration or not.

Gen 9: Green

Traits: Slob, Geek, Cheerful

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru

Rules: Master mixology, programming and video gaming skills, master tech guru career, complete the Computer Whiz aspiration, must accept every invitation to parties/outings with your friends and/or go out or throw a party once a week, have at least five good friends and five enemies and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 10: Blue

Traits: Gloomy, Perfectionist, Family Oriented

Aspiration: Big Happy Family

Career: Painter

Rules: Adopt at least one child, master the cooking, painting and gardening skills, master the painter career, complete the Big Happy Family aspiration, marry your high school sweetheart and stay with them until you die and have a one time secret affair.

I do not own this challenge, it is by Lilsimsie.

For me at least, I make my own husbands with required traits if needed.

Hope you enjoy doing this. Let me know if you want any other base game versions of challenges, if you are like me and play console with no mods or CC and own no packs.

#sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 challenge #not so berry #lilsimsie #base game #no mods #no cc

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nipuni · 2 years ago

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My dad died yesterday, he was 63

I would like to share a little about him and our story if anyone wants to read, this is not a happy story

My parents divorced when I was three and I went to live with my mom so I saw my dad's life in snapshots, once a week at first and then once a year when he moved abroad and I would spend the summers with him. Every time I would catch up with him he would have a different partner or apartment.

My time with him was always fun, he was laid back, adventurous and open, he would let me do all kinds of crazy stuff while my mom was the strict one. He was a genius to me, he taught me how to program my own games when I was nine, he would make me take computers and appliances apart and reassemble them to teach me how they worked, he made me love science, the outdoors and travelling. He was great at teaching and cooking and driving. He worked on tours for famous musicians as a sound tech, he made 3D films for museums and theme parks when it was all very new, he was a photographer, a programmer, electrician, mechanic, artist and could play many instruments and write poetry!!

The first crack between us was when there was a huge split between my mom's side of the family and his over money and a lot of ugly truths stared coming to light. I realized that when it came to money he was willing to put himself before me and the fights between him and my mom were awful. But in the end once the dust settled we both pretended it never happened.

One weekend I went to visit him and realized his current girlfriend would stick around at last and she had a daughter almost my age!! I now had a little sister and I loved it.

A year later the country fell apart and he fled abroad along with them and even though I missed them I would visit for months at a time every year. I saw him start his life over, he started his own company and I was so proud of him!!

Everything was great for eight years, until one day he told me that my step mom and sister left him and he would sell everything and come back to the country. This was the last time I would ever hear of them, they vanished, I mourned my step sister for years. This was also when his life fell apart.

At 17 adulthood came with a lot of revelations. My mom told me that my dad had been an addict since he was very young, before I was born, my whole life, cocaine and alcohol amongst other things, and everyone around him had been putting up with it and helping him but couldn't take it anymore. He had cheated on her when they had me and had cheated on my step mom too. He would lie to get what he wanted and trusting him was getting increasingly harder.

All of my memories of him were now seen through a different lens. I felt betrayed. I could now tell every time he had been high, and knew where the money he asked of me when to, I was aware of every little lie. I was angry and frustrated at him for the pain he caused my mom and everyone around him. And for squandering the potential I knew he had, for always making the wrong decisions, one mistake after another. And I hated feeling this way the most.

After he came back to the country alone he could never recover, he would relapse, overdose, refuse rehab or any medical help. He would escape psychiatrics facilities and hospitals in the middle of the night, he was a menace!! lmao.

Our relationship was still good despite all this, different but still standing, he had always been my friend even if he wasn't the best at being a dad or partner, I would always scold him and tell him of different job opportunities I came up with for him to try out but now there was this distance between us. I became the parent of the relationship in a way and he didn't like being told what to do. I saw him spiral and I was scared for him.

I've always heard all these stories about addicts finding purpose and fighting for their loved ones, so every time he would jokingly talk to me about how high he was and seemed to enjoy it despite my warnings and pleading it made me feel like I was not enough of a reason to get better, as self centered as it may be I was a teen and I felt powerless to stop him, insignificant. People could get better for their children, but not for me.

I knew this way of thinking was flawed and selfish and he was the one struggling, I knew he was a victim. I spent the last of my teenage years and early twenties trying to fight back this feeling so I could preserve our relationship, we always kept in contact but over time he changed and was no longer the person I knew.

He became a stranger, often times incoherent and delusional, his views changed, he was paranoid, his addiction got worse and worse and now all I could feel was pity and guilt, our once good relationship was now reduced to a few interactions where he would ask me for money, I knew I was possibly funding his self destruction and he was likely lying to me but he also needed to pay for medication and so I couldn't refuse him.

I had my own life now, a husband and plans for the future. When I decided to move abroad a few years ago I knew our hug goodbye could be the last, he was broke and unstable but I thought once I was settled and had a job and a citizenship I could have enough money to get him tickets to visit and show him the life I had made for myself like he had done in my childhood.

But then Covid happened, and he would never agree to make calls. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, I would ask about his health and he would say he was fine. He wasn't fine, he was smoking 4 packs a day. He got the cancer removed but refused further treatment, he said he didn't have any purpose left in life and no reasons to keep living, he had a stroke and couldn't feel half his body when he was forcibly hospitalized, his cancer had spread and he hadn't been eating for a long time, he hid all this from me, I first heard it from my aunt in tears over the phone yesterday, he tried to escape the hospital in the night and had to be tied up and sedated, he never woke up.

He died alone, all that is left of his family is me and my aunt and we both live in different countries. There is nobody there to even bury him. I feel like I abandoned him. I've always known I would feel this way when this day came, in a way I've been mourning him for many years and have carried this guilt for even longer.

I had the coolest dad, cocaine took him away. I wish this had a better and uplifting message. I just wanted to get this off my chest. He taught me a lot and made me who I am, and I have a lot of great memories with him. He struggled all of his life with his mental health and despite it all he was still amazing and deserved so much better.

He always said that when he was a ghost he would follow me around, I hope he isl!! so I can live for both of us, I love you dad!! and I'm so sorry 🕯️

#personal #extremely so #tw death #tw drugs #I'm sorry for the depressing post #nipuni blogs

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that-weirdo-thing · 3 months ago

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A seven-year-old is fighting an old man and is winning!

Doctor Ivo Robotnik never made mistakes. He just miscalculated, which was perfectly normal since he was always revolutionizing the sciences. Therefore, Ivo Robotnik knew that he hadn't committed a mistake, he just... miscalculated, terribly.

Agent Aban Stone knew better than to say that his doctor might have made a slight mistake, yet he thought so, particularly now. The project his doctor was working on now was supposed to be a machine able to show the knowledge of anyone who used it; even if he had been against the idea, his doctor decided to test it himself and instead of showing them any kind of knowledge from his doctor...

Instead of what was supposed to happen, there was a puff, some white smoke and now in the middle of the lab, was a boy. The boy has a striking resemblance to his doctor, the child has the same perplexed expression as his doctor right now.

"Who are you?!?! Where am I?!?! I don't have anything that you might want!!... you... you dimwits!!!" the boy screamed familiarly, looking around the lab as searching for some exit.

Robotnik, in his usual way, went straight to the terrified child just as this was screaming about how idiots they must be to let him see their faces.

"I know that you have eidetic memory! Because I'm you from the future!" He screamed back just as his hands held his younger version's shoulders.

Well, thought Stone unfazed, that explains the resemblance.

The young Ivo must have been around the age of six, he had wild red hair, it seemed unbrushed; he was clothed in some cheap clothes that were unkept and hanging loose off his small frame, probably second-handed. He also seemed completely lost and terrified.

Stone resisted the urge to go and comfort the child.

His doctor kept talking about how the younger one must make himself scarce while he fixed the problem, he didn't care if the infant saw anything of the future so he could just search about it.

"Perhaps, I might be of assistance taking care of him, doctor," he said before he could stop himself.

His doctor looked mad, well madder than a moment ago, but he just nodded stiffly before leaving for the computer. When the boy and the Agent were alone, the adult smiled at the child.

"Is there any way that you would prefer that I call you?" he asked, the little redhead looked at him with too-big brown eyes, his doctor eyes, full with unshed tears.

The boy looked away cleaning his tears harshly with his T-shirt before murmuring.

"Just Ivo is fine"

"Alright Ivo, now, do you want to get something to eat or do you want to do as the doctor said and learn about the future?" he asked nicely as he extended his hand for the child to take it.

The boy observed him for some minutes before shyly taking his hand. Stone's smile grew.

Ivo knew that what was happening wasn't a dream, he knew that a dream couldn't feel so real. At first, he thought that maybe someone in the orphanage decided to sell him off to some weirdos, but then the taller man said it was him, well, future him. They were in some kind of laboratory with ultra sss technology!!

His future self wasn't very nice, just like every other adult he knew, but then there was his agent, Ivo's future Agent! Mr Stone, as he had decided to call him, was the nicest adult that Ivo had ever known, he talked calmly, let him ask all the questions he wanted, made the best cocoa he had ever drunk, and even got him nicer clothes!

His Agent was the best!

Ivo was talking with his Mr Stone when his older self came and started to say mean things to his agent. Ivo didn't care if his future self was mean to idiots, but he was prohibited from being mean to his agent!

So Ivo did the only reasonable solution he could think of. He kicked the legs of that old man and rescued his agent!

Doctor Ivo Robotnik hated the mere presence of his younger version, he was weak, helpless and absolutely lacking. Being able to see himself just like his former caretakers did wasn't pleasant at all. He could only see his own weakness, his own failures.

He remembered himself at six as one of the weakest versions of himself, still so hopeful that the world wouldn't be as cruel as it was, his eight-year-old self might have been more pleasant, already illuminated to the harsh truth of the world. Anyway, what was done was done and he was trapped with one of the most loathed versions of himself.

So he ordered the brat to stay away, free to do whatever he wanted as he went back to fix the calculations. Robotnik hated the moment that his agent decided to speak, offering himself to entertain the brat as if that would make him endearing in Robotnik's eyes, ridiculous!

He didn't care what the agent was doing with the brat, as long as he got his lattes in time, he didn't care!

...

Okay, he might be curious. Robotnik observed them through the cameras, expecting to see the exact moment that the agent that the sycophant showed his true colours. He observed them talk calmly, watched them walk hand in hand, his agent preparing cocoa for the brat, it didn't matter that he also was doing his latte! That was his job! when his agent went to bathe the imp, when he helped the wrench brush his hair...

He needed to show his agent who was the boss.

He was doing his usual thing, terrorising his agent to show dominance, manhandle him around...

When a sudden pain in his left leg shocked him. Robotnik glanced down just to be met with familiar brown eyes...

The brat just kicked him!!

"You kicked me!!"

"You have been prohibited from being mean to MY agent!!"

HIS AGENT????

STONE WAS ROBOTNIK'S AGENT

NOT OF SOME... SOME LITTLE WEAKLING!!!

"YOU ARE A LITTLE NOBODY AND-!!!!"

Stone was hugging the brat. Stone was hugging the brat. Stone was hugging the brat. Stone was hugging the brat. Stone was hugging his younger self. Stone was hugging him.

...

We're sorry there's no signal :,(

...

Boop beep boop!

...

The system has returned.

We're happy to say we are returning from where you were before the error H34R7.

So, Stone is hugging the brat. He decided to protect the little imp, and he picked him up, hugging him while looking at Robotnik with his big wonderful stupid eyes filled with fake worry. Why else would he be willing to touch him??? He's saying some nonsense about the brat being only a child who doesn't understand, and who is still too young...

And Doctor Robotnik? He could only stare at how the fucking little brat sent him a smirk proudly in Stone's arms while the idiot was talking about a safe environment to grow and some more stupidities.

Wait.

Stone is on the brat's side.

Does that mean that the brat has won???

A brat has just kicked him and his agent is on the brat's side?????

"That imp needs to leave!!"

"Doctor, please!"

The little bastard puts his best sad face to Stone when the idiot looks his way, when the man turns back to try to convince him the imp starts to sign to Robotnik uh he didn't remember that he already knew how to sign at such age "Ivo 1, Oldman 0"

If he kills his younger self, it would affect himself or a new alternative universe where he had travelled to a parallel universe?

#agent stone #dr robotnik #ivo robotnik #stone #doctor eggman #well now thanks to y'all I ended thinking more of this and ended writing this #hope y'all are happy #I hope that this is all #might publish it in ao3 when I get some time #I'm calling this au #baby Ivo vs Robotnik #stobotnik

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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Twinkump Linkdump

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in SAN DIEGO at MYSTERIOUS GALAXY next MONDAY (Mar 24), and in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL on Apr 2. More tour dates here.

I have an excellent excuse for this week's linkdump: I'm in Germany, but I'm supposed to be in LA, and I'm not, because London Heathrow shut down due to a power-station fire, which meant I spent all day yesterday running around like a headless chicken, trying to get home in time for my gig in San Diego on Monday (don't worry, I sorted it):

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/32425Doctorow

Therefore, this is 30th linkdump, in which I collect the assorted links that didn't make it into this week's newsletters. Here are the other 29:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

I always like to start and end these 'dumps with some good news, which isn't easy in these absolutely terrifying times. But there is some good news: Wil Wheaton has announced his new podcast, a successor of sorts to the LeVar Burton Reads podcast. It's called "It's Storytime" and it features Wil reading his favorite stories handpicked from science fiction magazines, including On Spec, the magazine that bought my very first published story (I was 16, it ran in their special youth issue, it wasn't very good, but boy did it mean a lot to me):

https://wilwheaton.net/podcast/

Here's some more good news: a court has found (again!) that works created by AI are not eligible for copyright. This is the very best possible outcome for people worried about creators' rights in the age of AI, because if our bosses can't copyright the botshit that comes out of the "AI" systems trained on our work, then they will pay us:

https://www.yahoo.com/news/us-appeals-court-rejects-copyrights-171203999.html

Our bosses hate paying us, but they hate the idea of not being able to stop people from copying their entertainment products so! much! more! It's that simple:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

This outcome is so much better than the idea that AI training isn't fair use – an idea that threatens the existence of search engines, archiving, computational linguistics, and other clearly beneficial activities. Worse than that, though: if we create a new copyright that allows creators to prevent others from scraping and analyzing their works, our bosses will immediately alter their non-negotiable boilerplate contracts to demand that we assign them this right. That will allow them to warehouse huge troves of copyrighted material that they will sell to AI companies who will train models designed to put us on the breadline (see above, re: our bosses hate paying us):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/13/hey-look-over-there/#lets-you-and-he-fight

The rights of archivists grow more urgent by the day, as the Trump regime lays waste to billions of dollars worth of government materials that were produced at public expense, deleting decades of scientific, scholarly, historical and technical materials. This is the kind of thing you might expect the National Archive or the Library of Congress to take care of, but they're being chucked into the meat-grinder as well.

To make things even worse, Trump and Musk have laid waste to the Institute of Museum and Library Services, a tiny, vital agency that provides funding to libraries, archives and museums across the country. Evan Robb writes about all the ways the IMLS supports the public in his state of Washington:

Technology support. Last-mile broadband connection, network support, hardware, etc. Assistance with the confusing e-rate program for reduced Internet pricing for libraries.

Coordinated group purchase of e-books, e-audiobooks, scholarly research databases, etc.

Library services for the blind and print-disabled.

Libraries in state prisons, juvenile detention centers, and psychiatric institutions.

Digitization of, and access to, historical resources (e.g., newspapers, government records, documents, photos, film, audio, etc.).

Literacy programming and support for youth services at libraries.

The entire IMLS budget over the next 10 years rounds to zero when compared to the US federal budget – and yet, by gutting it, DOGE is amputating significant parts of the country's systems that promote literacy; critical thinking; and universal access to networks, media and ideas. Put it that way, and it's not hard to see why they hate it so.

Trying to figure out what Trump is up to is (deliberately) confusing, because Trump and Musk are pursuing a chaotic agenda that is designed to keep their foes off-balance:

https://www.wired.com/story/elon-musk-donald-trump-chaos/

But as Hamilton Nolan writes, there's a way to cut through the chaos and make sense of it all. The problem is that there are a handful of billionaires who have so much money that when they choose chaos, we all have to live with it:

The significant thing about the way that Elon Musk is presently dismantling our government is not the existence of his own political delusions, or his own self-interested quest to privatize public functions, or his own misreading of economics; it is the fact that he is able to do it. And he is able to do it because he has several hundred billion dollars. If he did not have several hundred billion dollars he would just be another idiot with bad opinions. Because he has several hundred billion dollars his bad opinions are now our collective lived experience.

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-underlying-problem

We actually have a body of law designed to prevent this from happening. It's called "antitrust" and 40 years ago, Jimmy Carter decided to follow the advice of some of history's dumbest economists who said that fighting monopolies made the economy "inefficient." Every president since, up to – but not including – Biden, did even more to encourage monopolization and the immense riches it creates for a tiny number of greedy bastards.

But Biden changed that. Thanks to the "Unity Taskforce" that divided up the presidential appointments between the Democrats' corporate wing and the Warren/Sanders wing, Biden appointed some of the most committed, effective trustbusters we'd seen for generations:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

After Trump's election, there was some room for hope that Trump's FTC would continue to pursue at least some of the anti-monopoly work of the Biden years. After all, there's a sizable faction within the MAGA movement that hates (some) monopolies:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/24/enforcement-priorities/#enemies-lists

But last week, Trump claimed to have illegally fired the two Democratic commissioners on the FTC: Alvaro Bedoya and Rebecca Slaughter. I stan both of these commissioners, hard. When they were at the height of their powers in the Biden years, I had the incredible, disorienting experience of getting out of bed, checking the headlines, and feeling very good about what the government had just done.

Trump isn't legally allowed to fire Bedoya and Slaughter. Perhaps he's just picking this fight as part of his chaos agenda (see above). But there are some other pretty good theories about what this is setting up. In his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller proposes that Trump is using this case as a wedge, trying to set a precedent that would let him fire Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-trump-tried-to-fire-federal-trade

But perhaps there's more to it. Stoller just had Commissioner Bedoya on Organized Money, the podcast he co-hosts with David Dayen, and Bedoya pointed out that if Trump can fire Democratic commissioners, he can also fire Republican commissioners. That means that if he cuts a shady deal with, say, Jeff Bezos, he can order the FTC to drop its case against Amazon and fire the Republicans on the commission if they don't frog when he jumps:

https://www.organizedmoney.fm/p/trumps-showdown-at-the-ftc-with-commissioner

(By the way, Organized Money is a fantastic podcast, notwithstanding the fact that they put me on the show last week:)

https://audio.buzzsprout.com/6f5ly01qcx6ijokbvoamr794ht81

The future that our plutocrat overlords are grasping for is indeed a terrible one. You can see its shape in the fantasies of "liberatarian exit" – the seasteads, free states, and other assorted attempts to build anarcho-capitalist lawless lands where you can sell yourself into slavery, or just sell your kidneys. The best nonfiction book on libertarian exit is Raymond Criab's 2022 "Adventure Capitalism," a brilliant, darkly hilarious and chilling history of every time a group of people have tried to found a nation based on elevating selfishness to a virtue:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/14/this-way-to-the-egress/#terra-nullius

If Craib's book is the best nonfiction volume on the subject of libertarian exit, then Naomi Kritzer's super 2023 novel Liberty's Daughter is the best novel about life in a libertopia – a young adult novel about a girl growing up in the hell that would be life with a Heinlein-type dad:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/21/podkaynes-dad-was-a-dick/#age-of-consent

But now this canon has a third volume, a piece of design fiction from Atelier Van Lieshout called "Slave City," which specs out an arcology populated with 200,000 inhabitants whose "very rational, efficient and profitable" arrangements produce €7b/year in profit:

https://www.archdaily.com/30114/slave-city-atelier-van-lieshout

This economic miracle is created by the residents' "voluntary" opt-in to a day consisting of 7h in an office, 7h toiling in the fields, 7h of sleep, and 3h for "leisure" (e.g. hanging out at "The Mall," a 24/7, 26-storey " boundless consumer paradise"). Slaves who wish to better themselves can attend either Female Slave University or Male Slave University (no gender controversy in Slave City!), which run 24/7, with 7 hours of study, 7 hours of upkeep and maintenance on the facility, 7h of sleep, and, of course, 3h of "leisure."

The field of design fiction is a weird and fertile one. In his traditional closing keynote for this year's SXSW Interactive festival, Bruce Sterling opens with a little potted history of the field since it was coined by Julian Bleeker:

https://bruces.medium.com/how-to-rebuild-an-imaginary-future-2025-0b14e511e7b6

Then Bruce moves on to his own latest design fiction project, an automated poetry machine called the Versificatore first described by Primo Levi in an odd piece of science fiction written for a newspaper. The Versificatore was then adapted to the screen in 1971, for an episode of an Italian sf TV show based on Levi's fiction:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tva-D_8b8-E

And now Sterling has built a Versificatore. The keynote is a sterlingian delight – as all of his SXSW closers are. It's a hymn to the value of "imaginary futures" and an instruction manual for recovering them. It could not be more timely.

Sterling's imaginary futures would be a good upbeat note to end this 'dump with, but I've got a real future that's just as inspiring to close us out with: the EU has found Apple guilty of monopolizing the interfaces to its devices and have ordered the company to open them up for interoperability, so that other manufacturers – European manufacturers! – can make fully interoperable gadgets that are first-class citizens of Apple's "ecosystem":

https://www.reuters.com/technology/apple-ordered-by-eu-antitrust-regulators-open-up-rivals-2025-03-19/

It's a good reminder that as America crumbles, there are still places left in the world with competent governments that want to help the people they represent thrive and prosper. As the Prophet Gibson tells us, "the future is here, it's just not evenly distributed." Let's hope that the EU is living in America's future, and not the other way around.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/22/omnium-gatherum/#storytime

Image: TDelCoro https://www.flickr.com/photos/tomasdelcoro/48116604516/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

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alexanderwales · 11 months ago

Text

Castle Solutions was the only time travel company in the world. They had a giant corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago, which was the only place in the entire world with a time machine, at least as far as anyone knew. They were worth hundreds of billions, and the only reason they weren't worth more seemed to be that they didn't care all that much about money. The time machines were used for everything: reporting, media, market corrections, the surveillance state, and industry. Castle Solutions was the lynchpin of the modern world.

Daniel had thought the waiting room would be nicer.

He sat in a blue-gray chair that would have been at home in any waiting room anywhere else in Chicago. Slightly tinny music played over speakers from the ceiling. A fake potted plant sat in one corner, failing to look lively. There were no windows, because the waiting room was deep in the heart of the building, close to the machine itself.

Daniel was the only one in the waiting room. He'd come half an hour early, lugging all his gear, and now the only thing left was for the clock to run down. A bored-looking woman had come in to tell him that it might be awhile, that they were running behind schedule — the time travel company, running behind schedule. So there had been more waiting than expected.

A man in a charcoal gray suit with a simple blue backpack came in. He slung the backpack down onto the ground with a sigh and rubbed his face. He had stubble there, but an artful amount of it, like he'd spent some time in the mirror making sure that it was the right amount of scruff to offset his expensive suit.

Daniel looked straight ahead, trying not to look, keeping his face blank, like he was passing by a homeless person who might ask him for money he didn't have.

"Wow, you've got a lot of stuff," said the man. "Is that a sword?"

"It's a katana," said Daniel. He didn't match the eye contact the man was giving him.

"Oh, cool," said the man. "You're going to ... katana times?"

"Edo Japan, yeah," said Daniel.

Daniel was trying his best not to engage, to get this conversation over as quickly as possible. He wasn't making eye contact.

The man picked up his backpack and moved across the waiting room to be closer to Daniel.

"You speak Japanese?" the man asked.

"Hai, watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu," replied Daniel. He wished that he were more fluent, that the words had come out less rote.

"Cool," said the man. He had apparently also come closer to get a look at all of Daniel's stuff. His eyes moved over the duffel bags. There wasn't much to see, everything had been carefully packed away. "Wow, you sure are prepared, huh?"

"It's a different time and place," said Daniel with a shrug. It represented five years of planning, five years of training, learning, honing himself.

"Personally, I'm going to 1946," said the man, though Daniel hadn't asked. He held out his hand. "Archie Vedder."

Daniel reluctantly took the hand. "Daniel Strom." He had never really gotten the hang of shaking hands. He worried that his hands were too clammy, a worry that proved founded when Archie wiped his hand on that expensive charcoal suit.

"I went with the kit," said Archie, pointing to his backpack. "I've got papers, I've got a computer with a backup, I've got a projector, a media library, a science library, the whole works, plus some forged bonds and a stack of cash. I got a sweet deal on it, they're overstocked now."

Retreating into the past had seen its heyday. Now most of the people who had been most enthusiastic were gone, and there were only the dissenters left. Everyone agreed with using the machine for the mundane stuff, but simply leaving, never to return, rubbed people the wrong way.

"I guess they don't sell kits for Edo," Archie ventured.

"They do," said Daniel. "They're trash."

"Ah," said Archie.

"This is all custom," said Daniel. "Higher quality, field tested, everything I'll need to set myself up there." Only some of it was stock. He had two computers, three smartphones, chargers and plugs, solar panels, replacement batteries, and redundant media libraries and science libraries.

Archie raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean, field tested? Because people don't come back. You're there for good, right?"

What it actually meant was that Daniel had gone out into a field and tested it, made sure that it worked under various conditions, set himself up like he might be explaining all this to a carefully chosen daimyo. There was only so much that camping in the woods and taking dry run vacations could tell him though.

"Some of it is theory," said Daniel. "Research."

"Yeah, see, that's why I went with 1946," said Archie. "It's really well-trod. You know, I was reading an article the other day that maybe the Baby Boom was a little overstated? Like, we're obviously living in the wake of time travelers, but that's the prime time to come back, anywhere from 1946 to 1960. The economy is doing well, tech is advancing, it's familiar enough. The culture is so close you can sell some stuff from a media library, it's brilliant. You're five steps away from becoming a multimillionaire in a time when that meant something."

"Sure," said Daniel.

"Any reason you're doing hard mode?" asked Archie. "I mean, samurai and ninjas are cool, sure, but —"

"It's not about that," said Daniel.

"Alright, sure," shrugged Archie.

Daniel looked over at the waiting room's lone clock. You would think that a waiting room for a time travel company would have better clocks, but it was a cheap utilitarian design, thin plastic and wobbly hands.

"What's it about then?" asked Archie.

"I was going to go with a friend," said Daniel. "We had practiced together, trained together. Then he got cancer."

"Ah, shit," said Archie.

"He lived," said Daniel. "He's fine. But he's on medications now, and will be for the rest of his life, and he can't go anymore."

"Huh," said Archie. "So there's a friend who you're leaving behind?"

"No," said Daniel. "I mean ... this was what we did together. We talked about it a lot. We read history books and practiced crafts and skills. At the start, I didn't really take it that seriously, it was just a hobby, but I got invested, and I guess I kept seeing it as — I don't know."

"I mean for me, it's a way out," said Archie. "Most people feel that way, yeah? My wife filed for divorce, I got fired from my job, so hey, time to start over in 1946, pretend I'm part of the Greatest Generation, ride the waves I know are coming. Exploit it."

Daniel grimaced. The Vietnam War, segregation, the Red Scare? People had a rosy view of that time. He'd never felt particularly aligned with people like Archie who were just looking to make a quick buck.

"Oh come on," said Archie. "You think you're better than me? You're a, you know, what's the word. Colonizer."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "No."

"What, just 'no', it's not, you know, what we did to the Native Americans?" asked Archie. "The whole 'conquer the past' thing?"

"I'm a single person," said Daniel. "I'm bringing back things that will change their culture forever, but I'm not an agent of my country, and even if I were, I think those people who want to be a god king are morons. And sorry, I'm not spending my last minutes in the present on badly rehashing a debate I've had a thousand times already."

"Why not?" asked Archie. "See, I think having arguments right before you go is great. You can leave on a high note. I've spent the last few days saying whatever the hell I wanted to people. It's great. I went to my dad and said 'hey, you were a terrible father, I never liked you, and it's sad that you thought I needed your approval'. And then you know what's hilarious? I get to just walk away and never be seen again. How's that for a power move? How's that for a mic drop?"

"Seems immature," said Daniel.

"Well, see, I'm actually fine being immature," said Archie with a little laugh. "And when this conversation is done, one or both of us is going into the past, never to be seen nor heard from again, and isn't that great? You don't like me, I don't like you, and then we're strangers again."

Daniel had been looking straight ahead, but he turned to Archie after that. "You don't like me?" he asked. "You don't know me."

"I know your type," said Archie. He leaned back. "You spent what, three years cooking up a plan, making this trip back in time your entire personality, and now you think you're better than me, better than everyone, like you've got it all figured out. You talked yourself into throwing away everything you've got going on here. You got dreams of a future in the past. It's quitter talk, is what it is."

"Fuck off," said Daniel. In his normal life he'd have never said it, but he was on the precipice.

"You think going into the past is going to transform you?" asked Archie. "That another world, a second chance, you'll somehow become the man you think you were supposed to be? Well let me tell you, if you were a loser here, you'll be a loser there."

Daniel stood up and drew his sword. He'd practiced the draw a thousand times. The sword gleamed, even under the ugly fluorescent lighting of the waiting room. "Fuck off, or you'll be going back to the 50s missing a hand."

"Bah," said Archie. "Fine." He stood up and took a seat further away, the same one he'd taken when he first came in. He was bouncing his leg and reading something on his phone.

Daniel was putting his sword back in its sheath when the receptionist came into the room.

"Daniel?" she asked, glancing only briefly at the sword. "They're ready for you."

"Finally," Daniel thought but didn't say, because even though he wasn't going to be around anymore, he believed in basic politeness.

He gathered his things and left the waiting room, ready to leave.

~~~~

Archie sat outside Castle Solutions, in their little courtyard, vaping.

It wasn't long before the receptionist, Lydia, came to sit next to him.

"It didn't really seem like you wanted to convince that one," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

She shrugged and pulled out a vape pen of her own. "Sometimes you just want to yell at someone. I get that. But you're risking us getting caught. And if we get caught in the future, we probably get caught in the present."

"Yup," he said. "Won't happen again."

"Give it a few days before you come back," she said. "Three, let's say. He didn't file a complaint, so there's nothing in the system."

"Mmm," said Archie. He made a long, slow drag of the pen. They sat there vaping together for a while. It had often occurred to him that vaping was impossibly lame, but it felt less lame when done with someone else. He watched as the vapor left her mouth in a thin, concentrated stream. "You wanna go out sometime?"

"On a date?" she asked. She gave the tip of her vape pen a casual look. "No, not really."

"Alright," said Archie.

"I don't really know what your deal is," she said. "Why this is important to you. Why you want to talk people back from the brink, or yell at them."

"Mmm," said Archie. "You want to tragic backstory?"

"Meh," Lydia replied. "I'm not going on a date with someone who has a tragic backstory. That's all. Sorry. I've got my own tragic backstory, thanks very much."

"Fair," said Archie. "It was my kid brother, that's the short version. He up and left one day, left us a note that read like ... well, you know." He drew a finger across his neck.

"Where'd he go?" asked Lydia.

"England, 16th century," said Archie. "He thought he was going to take Shakespeare's place." He shook his head. "Only eighteen, you know? Unconscionable that they let kids that young through. He had his whole life ahead of him and he just ... disappeared."

Lydia sighed. "Yeah."

She turned off her vape pen, then mimed stubbing it out on the bench like a cigarette before slipping it into her purse. He felt a surge of attraction for her.

"Alright, I'll go on the date," said Lydia. "But if we're going to be dating, you've gotta stop this."

"Vaping?" asked Archie.

"You know what I mean," said Lydia. "You going in there trying to convince them to back out, that's one thing. It's noble, almost. But if it's going to be fighting, if it's you trying to work through some shit, then I'm not sticking my neck out for you. Doubly so if you want to get together. You process your trauma some other way, or repress it like the rest of us, alright?"

Archie thought about that for a moment. "Alright. Sure."

"I've got to get back to work," said Lydia as she rose from the bench. "You have my number."

Archie nodded, and after she had left, he stayed, looking out at the courtyard.

He wondered how Daniel was doing out there, in that other timeline, but he supposed that he would never know.

#micro fiction #time travel #microfiction

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dfortrafalgar · 1 year ago

Text

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Chapter 26

[Prev] [Next]

Your fingers gently knocked against the firm wood of your boss’s closed office door, your opposite hand clutching a closed envelope. It had been an incredibly slow day with very few meetings and a large project having just been finished, so you felt slightly more comfortable approaching her during the work day. After a few minutes, her cheery voice beckoned you to enter. You slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside with a small smile on your face.

Your boss was ridiculously gorgeous. You often wondered why she was busying her time working in a graphic design firm rather than modeling on international runways or selling luxury clothing, but at the same time, you were more than happy to be working under her. She came from a long line of strong, independent women, and made sure to instill the same values in her workplace.

“Ms. Boa, thank you for your time,” you stated politely as you sat down in the plush seat in front of her desk. Directly beside her computer monitor was a framed photo of her and her two younger sisters. The sight made your smile widen.

“It’s never a problem, darling,” she responded, a small grin on her own lips as she finished typing an email, sending it off with a sharp click on her keyboard before turning her full attention to you. “What can I help you with?”

You pulled out the envelope from behind your back, slipping it over the top of her desk. Curiously, she took the parcel and peeled up the flap on the back, dipping her perfectly manicured nails inside the paper and pulling out a small stack of photographs, held together with a wire paperclip. Her eyes widened almost instantly, making your heart skip a few beats as you watched her absorb what she was holding.

“No way,” she uttered under her breath before turning her sharp gaze towards you, her eyes sparkling with glee. Her next sentence came out almost as a squeak. “Twins?!”

You nodded eagerly, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “I’m about 13 weeks along now.”

Boa Hancock launched herself from her rolling chair, almost sprinting around the desk to envelop you in a hug. She had been one of your biggest under-the-table supporters of your pregnancy struggles, having allowed you generous time off that most companies would strongly turn their noses towards. She almost jumped off of the ground as she pulled you from your seat and wrapped her lean arms around your shoulders.

“I could cry right now, I really could!” She pulled away from you, her hands still gripping your shoulders. “13 weeks… that’s longer than the other two, right?”

“Yup,” you stated curtly. “It’s been really weird coming to terms with it, but I’ve made it this long and everything’s been progressing normally according to my doctor, so I’ve finally started telling more people outside of our immediate friends.”

Hancock smoothed her hand over your cheek, a mothering gesture that made you smile brightly. “You’re already glowing, look at you!”

After a few moments, she finally retreated back to her desk and gazed lovingly at the ultrasound pictures you had handed her. They were from your 12-week scan just a week prior, and you could already see their individual traits. Large, alien-like heads, little nubs for hands and feet, two little bodies curled up tightly in your womb.

“This is probably the best news I’ve heard all year,” she sighed, clipping the pictures back together and handing them back to you in their original envelope. “I take it you used IVF?”

“We did. It was an insanely long process, but clearly,” you held up the envelope with a cheeky grin on your face. “It worked.”

Hancock squealed again, spinning around in her chair. “I’m so, so happy for you and your husband, I mean it!”

Her sentiment made your heart flutter in your chest. Knowing sparing amounts of her history, you knew topics of maternal nature were very important to her, and the fact that one of her best employees was finally succeeding in something she had wanted for so long was an act of pride for the female boss. She collected herself, still maintaining a smile as she folded her hands on her desk and looked at you.

“So what can I do to help you out?” she asked, her dark gray eyes focused.

“Well, I wanted to hopefully discuss maternity leave sooner rather than later,” you offered. “I know I’ve taken far too much time off of work, so even if you wanted me back after four months–”

“Absolutely not,” she stated flatly, cutting you off. “Sweetie, you’re pregnant with twins. The least I would give you is a year and a half!”

You backpedaled, your eyes widening. “That’s too much…!”

She shook her head, affirming her stance. “Darling, think about it like this.” She tapped one of her manicured fingernails on the wooden surface of her desk. “You are easily one of my hardest working employees. You put your all into every single project you’re given, you work amazing with the rest of the team, you’re an all-around irreplaceable person to have. You’re also an amazing woman outside of work. And your husband is a heart surgeon who can barely get time off. Twins are a handful, and even if you have good support at home, you’re going to want those extra months to spend with your babies and to share those moments with your husband when he’s home.”

Hancock’s words rendered you speechless, your jaw essentially hitting the floor. You couldn’t disagree, though, the woman was right.

She seemed to know it, too, as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. “So?”

You quickly bowed your head. “I wish there was a way to repay your generosity, seriously.”

“You can repay me by giving birth to two healthy, happy babies. And the first step to doing that is taking care of yourself.” The smile she gave you was enough to melt a glacier.

Your eyes began to well with tears. “Can I hug you again?”

Hancock laughed, once again standing from her seat to embrace you. “I’m saying this as more of a friend rather than your supervisor. You are so deserving of all the happiness you can get. I’m so proud of you for staying so strong and pushing through what you’ve gone through, and anything you need from me over the next eight months, just say the word. I know the entire company would be more than happy to back you up.”

You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your work blouse, your lips forming a smile through their quivering. “Thank you so, so much, Ms. Boa.”

“Have you told the rest of the team yet?” she suddenly asked.

“No, I haven’t. Only Ikkaku knows,” you replied.

Her eyes became sparkly as her lips curled into a cheeky grin. “Wanna go share the news?”

—

“Law, you look like you’re glowing!” Rebecca’s large brown eyes gazed up at her superior from her seat at the nurse’s station as Law passed by with a cup of coffee in his hands.

With a small smile, he stopped to look at her. “Do I?”

“You do!” She stood from her seat, gathering a few papers in her hands before circling around the counter and joining Law in his walk to the break room. “Has something big happened? I mean, you usually don’t radiate positivity this much, but it’s just coming off of you in waves!”

Law gazed forward down the hallway as he walked, the warmth from his styrofoam cup warming his hand. He had to admit, his shoulders had felt significantly lighter, and his chest certainly felt fuzzy in the past few weeks. “Rebecca, if I tell you, you have to promise not to spread it around. I’m trying to keep it under wraps for a little longer, but I think I can trust you.”

Rebecca’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she eagerly waited for whatever news Law was holding on his tongue.

His lips curled into a pleased grin. “My wife is pregnant with twins.”

The pink-haired nurse almost dropped her papers in shock, her feet planting her to the floor as she gasped. It clearly took her a great deal of restraint not to burst out in excitement, so she expelled her quick burst of energy by covering her mouth with her papers and exhaling a long, pronounced sigh. “Law, that’s incredible!”

He simply smiled, continuing to walk. Rebecca regained her composure and scampered after him.

“You guys were trying for a long time, right?” Now it was her turn to glow with happiness. “That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” the surgeon replied, his own voice airy and light. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this excited to share the details of his personal life with someone. While he had been keeping his surgery team up-to-date with some of the details regarding your procedures, that was mostly due to the fact that his cell phone had become a returning character in the operating theater. Rebecca wasn’t a part of his surgery team, so her interactions with him were mostly from patient rounds. Nevertheless, it was clear that the younger girl was more than excited to be told the incredible news, if her bright, toothy smile was anything to go by.

“How far along?” she asked.

“13 weeks.” He took a deep breath. “It’s been a stressful three months, but so far everything’s been going smoothly.”

Rebecca sighed dreamily. “Wow, that’s seriously incredible… Congratulations, Law!” After a few brief moments, she turned her head to look at her superior. “Hey, if you want any help with picking out baby clothes, I know a really good seamstress downtown! She runs a clothing boutique but also does custom orders. I can put in a name for you and your contact info!”

Law pondered over her offer. Truthfully, neither of you had started planning anything regarding when the babies would actually arrive. The thought suddenly made Law a bit nervous. You were just about starting your second trimester and with everything going well regarding your health and the development of the babies, it seemed like now would be a good time to begin preparing actual baby gear for your apartment.

“That’d be really nice, Rebecca, thank you,” he finally responded with a cordial smile.

Their conversation quickly dissipated as Rebecca needed to depart to go on another shift of rounds, but before she departed she scribbled a name and number onto a piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of Law’s white laboratory coat. With a small smile remaining on his lips, he entered the break room and finally placed his now-lukewarm cup of coffee on the counter before sitting down and pulling out his phone. He had a few new text messages from you, making his smile grow.

Mama So i might have caved and told all my coworkers today… they want to plan a baby shower now but i told them to take it easy! But dont be surprised if we get a bunch of new baby items in the coming weeks <3

Mama Wait did you change my contact name???

Mama I didnt know my phone could do that LOL it says you changed my contact name

Law chuckled as he tapped on his screen to begin typing.

I changed it a few days ago. I can change it back to Wifey if you want.

After a few moments, another bubble from you popped up.

Mama I think i like being mama <3

Mama Ive been addressing you as ‘daddy’ in that journal you got me so i guess its not much different!!!

Law needed to duck his head to hide his broad smile from the other colleagues on their break. The last thing he wanted was any unnecessary attention drawn to himself thanks to his uncharacteristic grin.

You need to stop making me smile, one of my nurses already told me it looks like I’m glowing.

Mama AWWW BABYYY… YOU ARE GLOWING!!!!

Mama I have to go anyway and take bepo for a walk, i’ll see you later love!

Text me if you want something brought home for dinner.

A little heart bubble appeared next to his response for you. With a long exhale through his nose, he placed his phone back in his pocket and took a long sip from his coffee.

—

Law arrived back to your apartment later that evening, a brown paper bag of take-out sushi in his hands as he closed the door behind him with his foot.

“Babe?” he called. The apartment was eerily quiet, making his heart rate momentarily spike.

“I’m in here!” you yelled back, your voice coming from the living room. “I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

Law was quick to kick off his shoes and round the corner into the main living space of your home, placing the bag with your dinners on the counter. A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of you sprawled out on the floor. Bepo was laying flush against your side with his head resting perfectly on top of your belly.

“He hasn’t moved in, like, fifteen minutes,” you said. “My neck is starting to hurt.”

Your husband walked over to your spot on the floor, sitting next to you opposite the dog and reaching his hand over to card his long fingers through Bepo’s fuzzy head. The animal slow-blinked like a cat in response, the sight making you laugh.

“Do you think he knows I’m pregnant?” you asked. “He’s been a lot more attentive of me lately.”

“Animals have really keen instincts, it wouldn’t surprise me if he senses something different about you,” Law replied, rubbing small circles behind Bepo’s pointy ears. “There have been a lot of reports about animals recognizing symptoms of various illnesses in humans, maybe you smell different to him.”

The thought made you smile. “Whatever it is, he’s already showing off how good of a big brother he’ll be.” You fidgeted slightly on the floor, making Bepo pick his head up enough for you to push yourself up on your hands. Law supported your back with his arm, placing a kiss on your head when you sat up high enough.

“He’s our gentle giant… we’re probably going to need to get a new vacuum cleaner, though,” he offered, holding out his hands to help you to your feet. You eagerly gripped him back, wheezing slightly as he hauled you off the floor.

“Oh, definitely. We’re probably going to need to wrap all of our baby things in mesh to keep his fur out!” You placed a kiss to the tip of Law’s nose before proceeding toward the kitchen. “Hopefully neither of them have allergies.”

Law snorted. “Bepo would find a new home with Shachi and Penguin in that case.”

You excitedly opened the brown paper bag, your mouth watering at the sight of your favorite sushi rolls packed neatly into plastic containers. There were five rolls in total to split between the two of you. “You know me too well, baby,” you moaned out, removing the containers from the bag and fetching two pairs of chopsticks from your utensil drawer.

Law pulled out two chairs for the both of you at the table, helping you place your food down. He waited until you took the first bite before digging in himself.

“So I made an impulse purchase today,” you began, pulling out your phone from your back pocket. A few taps on your screen brought you to an online shopping app which you then showed to Law.

His eyes lit up almost immediately. “Sora pajamas?!” He snatched your phone out of your hands, making you laugh at his excitement. You had ordered a set of footie pajamas for all six of the main Sora characters- Sora and the five officers of Germa 66. “I didn’t even know they made these!”

“Me neither! Sanji told me about them today!” You popped a piece of sushi into your mouth. “Sanji’s always had a weird connection with that comic. Have you noticed how much he resembles Stealth Black?”

Law finally handed your phone back to you. “And his siblings, too. Have you met his older sister?”

You laughed at the thought. “It’s uncanny!”

“Well,” Law began after swallowing another bite. “That makes me feel better. I might have made some purchases of my own while I was on break earlier. I was talking to one of my nurses and she gave me the name of a woman who runs a local boutique downtown, apparently she takes orders for custom apparel. I might have placed a few orders for baby clothes.” He had a cheeky smile on his face as he shared the information with you.

You practically beamed at him. “I’m glad we’re both on the same page!” After a few brief moments of silence passed, you whispered, “Sora pajamas…”

Law beamed back at you. Maybe he really was glowing.

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mariacallous · 9 months ago

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Arvind Narayanan, a computer science professor at Princeton University, is best known for calling out the hype surrounding artificial intelligence in his Substack, AI Snake Oil, written with PhD candidate Sayash Kapoor. The two authors recently released a book based on their popular newsletter about AI’s shortcomings.

But don’t get it twisted—they aren’t against using new technology. “It's easy to misconstrue our message as saying that all of AI is harmful or dubious,” Narayanan says. He makes clear, during a conversation with WIRED, that his rebuke is not aimed at the software per say, but rather the culprits who continue to spread misleading claims about artificial intelligence.

In AI Snake Oil, those guilty of perpetuating the current hype cycle are divided into three core groups: the companies selling AI, researchers studying AI, and journalists covering AI.

Hype Super-Spreaders

Companies claiming to predict the future using algorithms are positioned as potentially the most fraudulent. “When predictive AI systems are deployed, the first people they harm are often minorities and those already in poverty,” Narayanan and Kapoor write in the book. For example, an algorithm previously used in the Netherlands by a local government to predict who may commit welfare fraud wrongly targeted women and immigrants who didn’t speak Dutch.

The authors turn a skeptical eye as well toward companies mainly focused on existential risks, like artificial general intelligence, the concept of a super-powerful algorithm better than humans at performing labor. Though, they don’t scoff at the idea of AGI. “When I decided to become a computer scientist, the ability to contribute to AGI was a big part of my own identity and motivation,” says Narayanan. The misalignment comes from companies prioritizing long-term risk factors above the impact AI tools have on people right now, a common refrain I’ve heard from researchers.

Much of the hype and misunderstandings can also be blamed on shoddy, non-reproducible research, the authors claim. “We found that in a large number of fields, the issue of data leakage leads to overoptimistic claims about how well AI works,” says Kapoor. Data leakage is essentially when AI is tested using part of the model’s training data—similar to handing out the answers to students before conducting an exam.

While academics are portrayed in AI Snake Oil as making “textbook errors,” journalists are more maliciously motivated and knowingly in the wrong, according to the Princeton researchers: “Many articles are just reworded press releases laundered as news.” Reporters who sidestep honest reporting in favor of maintaining their relationships with big tech companies and protecting their access to the companies’ executives are noted as especially toxic.

I think the criticisms about access journalism are fair. In retrospect, I could have asked tougher or more savvy questions during some interviews with the stakeholders at the most important companies in AI. But the authors might be oversimplifying the matter here. The fact that big AI companies let me in the door doesn’t prevent me from writing skeptical articles about their technology, or working on investigative pieces I know will piss them off. (Yes, even if they make business deals, like OpenAI did, with the parent company of WIRED.)

And sensational news stories can be misleading about AI’s true capabilities. Narayanan and Kapoor highlight New York Times columnist Kevin Roose’s 2023 chatbot transcript interacting with Microsoft's tool headlined “Bing’s A.I. Chat: ‘I Want to Be Alive. 😈’” as an example of journalists sowing public confusion about sentient algorithms. “Roose was one of the people who wrote these articles,” says Kapoor. “But I think when you see headline after headline that's talking about chatbots wanting to come to life, it can be pretty impactful on the public psyche.” Kapoor mentions the ELIZA chatbot from the 1960s, whose users quickly anthropomorphized a crude AI tool, as a prime example of the lasting urge to project human qualities onto mere algorithms.

Roose declined to comment when reached via email and instead pointed me to a passage from his related column, published separately from the extensive chatbot transcript, where he explicitly states that he knows the AI is not sentient. The introduction to his chatbot transcript focuses on “its secret desire to be human” as well as “thoughts about its creators,” and the comment section is strewn with readers anxious about the chatbot’s power.

Images accompanying news articles are also called into question in AI Snake Oil. Publications often use clichéd visual metaphors, like photos of robots, at the top of a story to represent artificial intelligence features. Another common trope, an illustration of an altered human brain brimming with computer circuitry used to represent the AI’s neural network, irritates the authors. “We're not huge fans of circuit brain,” says Narayanan. “I think that metaphor is so problematic. It just comes out of this idea that intelligence is all about computation.” He suggests images of AI chips or graphics processing units should be used to visually represent reported pieces about artificial intelligence.

Education Is All You Need

The adamant admonishment of the AI hype cycle comes from the authors’ belief that large language models will actually continue to have a significant influence on society and should be discussed with more accuracy. “It's hard to overstate the impact LLMs might have in the next few decades,” says Kapoor. Even if an AI bubble does eventually pop, I agree that aspects of generative tools will be sticky enough to stay around in some form. And the proliferation of generative AI tools, which developers are currently pushing out to the public through smartphone apps and even formatting devices around it, just heightens the necessity for better education on what AI even is and its limitations.

The first step to understanding AI better is coming to terms with the vagueness of the term, which flattens an array of tools and areas of research, like natural language processing, into a tidy, marketable package. AI Snake Oil divides artificial intelligence into two subcategories: predictive AI, which uses data to assess future outcomes; and generative AI, which crafts probable answers to prompts based on past data.

It’s worth it for anyone who encounters AI tools, willingly or not, to spend at least a little time trying to better grasp key concepts, like machine learning and neural networks, to further demystify the technology and inoculate themselves from the bombardment of AI hype.

During my time covering AI for the past two years, I’ve learned that even if readers grasp a few of the limitations of generative tools, like inaccurate outputs or biased answers, many people are still hazy about all of its weaknesses. For example, in the upcoming season of AI Unlocked, my newsletter designed to help readers experiment with AI and understand it better, we included a whole lesson dedicated to examining whether ChatGPT can be trusted to dispense medical advice based on questions submitted by readers. (And whether it will keep your prompts about that weird toenail fungus private.)

A user may approach the AI’s outputs with more skepticism when they have a better understanding of where the model’s training data came from—often the depths of the internet or Reddit threads—and it may hamper their misplaced trust in the software.

Narayanan believes so strongly in the importance of quality education that he began teaching his children about the benefits and downsides of AI at a very young age. “I think it should start from elementary school,” he says. “As a parent, but also based on my understanding of the research, my approach to this is very tech-forward.”

Generative AI may now be able to write half-decent emails and help you communicate sometimes, but only well-informed humans have the power to correct breakdowns in understanding around this technology and craft a more accurate narrative moving forward.

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