#Four-Part Processing Model

[joelmichaelmurphy]

The Reading Rope Unwound: Translating Science into Special Education Strategies

The challenges of imparting proficient reading skills are amplified in a middle school special education setting. With the insights gained from the LETRS training, the task of blending theory with practical instructional strategies becomes a promising venture. The objective is clear: to build a bridge from the foundational theories of reading to actionable teaching strategies that cater to the…

[jungwnies]

wrong time, right person - carlos sainz (1/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : carlos sainz x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : years after a bitter breakup, you and carlos sainz reunite unexpectedly. old wounds resurface, but so does undeniable love. will history repeat itself?

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor, drama ୨ৎ : tws : mild language, arguing, friendships ending, bantering, suggestive humor, mentions of alcohol consumption. ୨ৎ : wc : 952

part one | part two | part three | part four

Spain was never supposed to feel like home.

You were just an exchange student, a stranger in a country where the language tripped you up, where conversations flowed around you like a current you couldn’t quite swim in. The other students were nice, polite even, but distant. They smiled, but no one really saw you.

Except for him.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t just friendly; he was relentless. He talked to you like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he had made it his personal mission to make you feel at home. The first time he sat next to you at lunch, he didn’t ask the usual "Where are you from?" or "How do you like Spain?" Instead, he stole a fry from your plate and smirked.

“You always eat this little?”

It took you a second to process what he said, your brain scrambling for the right words. When you did, you narrowed your eyes and stole a fry right back.

“Mind your business.”

He laughed, loud, unapologetic. And just like that, best friends.

He made Spain feel like home. He dragged you to local karting tracks, shoved a helmet on your head, and laughed until he was breathless as you struggled to drive at half his speed. You sat on the asphalt after his races, drinking cheap sodas and listening to him talk about his dreams; Formula 1, podiums, championships. You still remember the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his father, the legendary Carlos Sainz Sr., how he wanted to make him proud.

“You think I can do it?” he asked once, voice quieter than usual.

You scoffed, nudging his shoulder. “I think you’re already doing it.”

And you were right.

He climbed the ranks, and you were right there beside him, just like he was there for you. Modeling started small, with local gigs, small shoots. but soon after, your face was showing up in magazines, whispered about in the industry. The first time you booked an international job, Carlos picked you up and spun you around like it was his victory too.

“You’re gonna be famous,” he said, grinning. “I’m gonna see your face on billboards, aren’t I?”

It was fun, easy, and natural, until it wasn’t.

The higher he climbed, the further away he felt. The more you succeeded, the less you seemed to talk. At first, it didn’t feel like a big deal. You still sent texts, still FaceTimed when you could. But slowly, the missed calls turned into silence, and suddenly, you were watching each other’s successes through headlines instead of in person.

Then, he made it to Formula 1.

And you? You were stepping into high-fashion modeling.

The night it all fell apart wasn’t supposed to be anything special. Just another call that went unanswered. Just another missed "good luck" before a race. But this time, Carlos called back, and he called back angry.

“You don’t even care anymore.” His voice was sharp, cutting straight through your exhaustion.

You blinked, phone pressed to your ear, the weight of his words settling deep into your chest. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snapped. “You missed my race. Again.”

Your stomach twisted. “Carlos, I had a show. You knew that.”

“Right, right,” he said bitterly. “Another shoot, another runway, another excuse. Siempre tienes una razón, ¿verdad?” (You always have a reason, right?)

Heat flared in your cheeks. “Excuse me? Don’t you dare act like you’re the only one with a career! I support you, Carlos, but I have my own dreams too.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind that made your heart feel light, it was sharp, hollow, cold. “Support? ¿Eso es lo que llamas esto?” (Is that what you call this?) “Because it feels a lot like you just don’t give a damn anymore.”

Anger burned hot in your chest. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” His voice dropped, quieter, but somehow even more dangerous. “Entonces dime, when was the last time you actually showed up for me? When was the last time you watched me race, not through a screen, but actually there?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because the answer was obvious. And it wasn’t one you wanted to say out loud.

Carlos exhaled sharply, like he had been hoping, hell, borderline begging, for you to fight him on it. But you couldn’t.

He scoffed. “Eso pensé.” (That’s what I thought.)

Tears burned behind your eyes. “This isn’t fair, Carlos. You’re always traveling, I’m always traveling! What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“I expected you to care.” His voice cracked. Just slightly. But it was enough to break you.

Your breath hitched. “You think I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and that hurt worse than anything else.

Because Carlos always knew. He always understood you, always read between the lines, always saw you even when you felt invisible to everyone else. But now? Now he wasn’t even sure.

The silence stretched between you like an open wound.

And then he said it.

“Quizás sea más fácil así.” (Maybe it’s just easier this way.)

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “What?”

His voice was flat, emotionless. Like he had already given up. “Maybe we’ve just been holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

You felt something inside you shatter.

Carlos had been your best friend. Your person. Your safe place. But now he was just...just nothing.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your voice was quiet, raw, aching. “I have an early flight.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Por supuesto que sí.” (Of course you do.)

Neither of you apologized.

Neither of you fought for it.

Neither of you said goodbye.

Carlos left for another race. You left for another shoot.

Neither of you looked back.

Until you were given no choice...

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[reasonsforhope]

"For the first time in almost 60 years, a state has formally overturned a so-called “right to work” law, clearing the way for workers to organize new union locals, collectively bargain, and make their voices heard at election time.

This week, Michigan finalized the process of eliminating a decade-old “right to work” law, which began with the shift in control of the state legislature from anti-union Republicans to pro-union Democrats following the 2022 election. “This moment has been decades in the making,” declared Michigan AFL-CIO President Ron Bieber. “By standing up and taking their power back, at the ballot box and in the workplace, workers have made it clear Michigan is and always will be the beating heart of the modern American labor movement.”

[Note: The article doesn't actually explain it, so anyway, "right to work" laws are powerful and deceptively named pieces of anti-union legislation. What right to work laws do is ban "union shops," or companies where every worker that benefits from a union is required to pay dues to the union. Right-to-work laws really undermine the leverage and especially the funding of unions, by letting non-union members receive most of the benefits of a union without helping sustain them. Sources: x, x, x, x]

In addition to formally scrapping the anti-labor law on Tuesday [February 13, 2024], Michigan also restored prevailing-wage protections for construction workers, expanded collective bargaining rights for public school employees, and restored organizing rights for graduate student research assistants at the state’s public colleges and universities. But even amid all of these wins for labor, it was the overturning of the “right to work” law that caught the attention of unions nationwide...

Now, the tide has begun to turn—beginning in a state with a rich labor history. And that’s got the attention of union activists and working-class people nationwide...

At a time when the labor movement is showing renewed vigor—and notching a string of high-profile victories, including last year’s successful strike by the United Auto Workers union against the Big Three carmakers, the historic UPS contract victory by the Teamsters, the SAG-AFTRA strike win in a struggle over abuses of AI technology in particular and the future of work in general, and the explosion of grassroots union organizing at workplaces across the country—the overturning of Michigan’s “right to work” law and the implementation of a sweeping pro-union agenda provides tangible evidence of how much has changed in recent years for workers and their unions...

By the mid-2010s, 27 states had “right to work” laws on the books.

But then, as a new generation of workers embraced “Fight for 15” organizing to raise wages, and campaigns to sign up workers at Starbucks and Amazon began to take off, the corporate-sponsored crusade to enact “right to work” measures stalled. New Hampshire’s legislature blocked a proposed “right to work” law in 2017 (and again in 2021), despite the fact that the measure was promoted by Republican Governor Chris Sununu. And in 2018, Missouri voters rejected a “right to work” referendum by a 67-33 margin.

Preventing anti-union legislation from being enacted and implemented is one thing, however. Actually overturning an existing law is something else altogether.

But that’s what happened in Michigan after 2022 voting saw the reelection of Governor Gretchen Whitmer, a labor ally, and—thanks to the overturning of gerrymandered legislative district maps that had favored the GOP—the election of Democratic majorities in the state House and state Senate. For the first time in four decades, the Democrats controlled all the major levers of power in Michigan, and they used them to implement a sweeping pro-labor agenda. That was a significant shift for Michigan, to be sure. But it was also an indication of what could be done in other states across the Great Lakes region, and nationwide.

“Michigan Democrats took full control of the state government for the first time in 40 years. They used that power to repeal the state’s ‘right to work’ law,” explained a delighted former US secretary of labor Robert Reich, who added, “This is why we have to show up for our state and local elections.”"

-via The Nation, February 16, 2024

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“That Makes Me Smart”

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

The Biden administration disappointed, frustrated and enraged in so many ways, including abetting a genocide – but one consistent bright spot over the past four years was the unseen-for-generations frontal assault on corporate power and corporate corruption.

The three words that define this battle above all others are "unfair and deceptive" – words that appear in Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act and other legislation modeled on it, like USC40 Section 41712(a), which gives the Department of Transportation the power to ban "unfair and deceptive" practices as well:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

When Congress created an agency to punish "unfair and deceptive" conduct, they were saying to the American people, "You have a right not to be cheated." While this may sound obvious, it's hardly how the world works.

To get a sense of how many ripoffs are part of our daily lives, let's take a little tour of the ways that the FTC and other agencies have used the "unfair and deceptive" standard to defend you over the past four years. Take Amazon Prime: Amazon executives emailed one another, openly admitting that in their user tests, the public was consistently fooled by Amazon's "get free shipping with Prime" dialog boxes, thinking they were signing up for free shipping and not understanding that they were actually signing up to send the company $140/year. They had tested other versions of the signup workflow that users were able to correctly interpret, but they decided to go with the confusing version because it made them more money:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2024/05/amazon-execs-may-be-personally-liable-for-tricking-users-into-prime-sign-ups/

Getting you signed up for Prime isn't just a matter of taking $140 out of your pocket once – because while Amazon has produced a greased slide that whisks you into a recurring Prime subscription, the process for canceling that recurring payment is more like a greased pole you must climb to escape the Prime pit. This is typical of many services, where signing up happens in a couple clicks, but canceling is a Kafkaesque nightmare. The FTC decided that this was an "unfair and deceptive" business practice and used its authority to create a "Click to Cancel" rule that says businesses have to make it as easy to cancel a recurring payment as it was to sign up for it:

https://www.theregister.com/2023/07/12/ftc_cancel_subscriptions/

Once businesses have you locked in, they also spy on you, ingesting masses of commercial surveillance data that you "consented" to by buying a car, or clicking to a website, or installing an app, or just physically existing in space. They use this to implement "surveillance pricing," raising prices based on their estimation of your desperation. Uber got caught doing this a decade ago, raising the price of taxi rides for users whose batteries were about to die, but these days, everyone's in on the game. For example, McDonald's has invested in a company that spies on your finances to determine when your payday is, and then raises the price of your usual breakfast sandwich by a dollar the day you get paid:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

Everything about this is "unfair and deceptive" – from switching prices the second you click into the store to the sham of consent that consists of, say, picking up your tickets to a show and being ordered to download an app that comes with 20,000 words of terms and conditions that allows the company that sends you a QR code to spy on you for the rest of your life in any way they can and sell the data to anyone who'll buy it.

As bad as it is to be trapped in an abusive relationship as a shopper, it's a million times worse to be trapped as a worker. One in 18 American workers is under a noncompete "agreement" that makes it illegal for you to change jobs and work for someone else in the same industry. The vast majority of these workers are in low-waged food-service jobs. The primary use of the American noncompete is to stop the cashier at Wendy's from getting an extra $0.25/hour by taking a job at McDonald's.

Noncompetes are shrouded in a fog of easily dispelled bossly bullshit: claims that noncompetes raise wages (empirically, this is untrue), or that they enable "IP"-intensive industries to grow by protecting their trade secrets. This claim is such bullshit: you can tell by the fact that noncompetes are banned under California's state constitution and yet the most IP-intensive industries have attracted hundreds of billions – if not trillions – in investment capital even though none of their workforce can be bound under a noncompete. The FTC's order banning noncompetes for every worker in America simply brings the labor regime that created Silicon Valley and Hollywood to the rest of the country:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Noncompetes aren't the only "unfair and deceptive" practice used against American workers. The past decade has seen the rise of private equity consolidation in several low-waged industries, like pet grooming. The new owners of every pet grooming salon within 20 miles of your house haven't just slashed workers' wages, they've also cooked up a scheme that lets them charge workers thousands of dollars if they quit these shitty jobs. This scheme is called a "training repayment agreement provision" (TRAP!): workers who are TRAPped at Petsmart are made to work doing menial jobs like sweeping up the floor for three to four weeks. Petsmart calls this "training," and values it at $5,500. If you quit your pet grooming job in the next two years, you legally owe PetSmart $5,500 to "repay" them for the training:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

Workers are also subjected to "unfair and deceptive" bossware: "AI" tools sold to bosses that claim they can sort good workers from bad, but actually serve as random-number generators that penalize workers in arbitrary, life-destroying ways:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/26/hawtch-hawtch/#you-treasure-what-you-measure

Some of the most "unfair and deceptive" conduct we endure happens in shadowy corners of industry, where obscure middlemen help consolidated industries raise prices and pick your pocket. All the meat you buy in the grocery store comes from a cartel of processing and packing companies that all subscribe to the same "price consulting" services that tells them how to coordinate across-the-board price rises (tell me again how greedflation isn't a thing?):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

It's not just food, it's all of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Take shelter: the highly consolidated landlord industry uses apps like Realpage to coordinate rental price hikes, turning the housing crisis into a housing emergency:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/24/gouging-the-all-seeing-eye/#i-spy

And of course, health is the most "unfair and deceptive" industry of all. Useless middlemen like "Pharmacy Benefit Managers" ("a spreadsheet with political power" -Matt Stoller) coordinate massive price-hikes in the drugs you need to stay alive, which is why Americans pay substantially more for medicine than anyone else in the world, even as the US government spends more than any other to fund pharma research, using public money:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

It's not just drugs: every piece of equipment – think hospital beds and nuclear medicine machines – as well as all the consumables – from bandages to saline – at your local hospital runs through a cartel of "Group Purchasing Organizations" that do for hospital equipment what PBMs do for medicine:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/27/lethal-dysfunction/#luxury-bones

For the past four years, we've lived in an America where a substantial portion of the administrative state went to war every day to stamp out unfair and deceptive practices. It's still happening: yesterday, the CFPB (which Musk has vowed to shut down) proposed a new rule that would ban the entire data brokerage industry, who nonconsensually harvest information about every American, and package it up into categories like "teenagers from red states seeking abortions" and "military service personnel with gambling habits" and "seniors with dementia" and sell this to marketers, stalkers, foreign governments and anyone else with a credit-card:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/cfpb-proposes-rule-to-stop-data-brokers-from-selling-sensitive-personal-data-to-scammers-stalkers-and-spies/

And on the same day, the FTC banned the location brokers who spy on your every movement and sell your past and present location, again, to marketers, stalkers, foreign governments and anyone with a credit card:

https://www.404media.co/ftc-bans-location-data-company-that-powers-the-surveillance-ecosystem/

These are tantalizing previews of a better life for every American, one in which the rule is, "play fair." That's not the world that Trump and his allies want to build. Their motto isn't "cheaters never prosper" – it's "caveat emptor," let the buyer beware.

Remember the 2016 debate where Clinton accused Trump of cheating on his taxes and he admitted to it, saying "That makes me smart?" Trumpism is the movement of "that makes me smart" life, where if you get scammed, that's your own damned fault. Sorry, loser, you lost.

Nowhere do you see this more than in cryptocurrencyland, so it's not a coincidence that tens – perhaps hundreds – in dark crypto money was flushed into the election, first to overpower Democratic primaries and kick out Dem legislators who'd used their power to fight the "unfair and deceptive" crowd:

https://www.politico.com/newsletters/california-playbook-pm/2024/02/13/crypto-comes-for-katie-porter-00141261

And then to fight Dems across the board (even the Dems whose primary victories were funded by dark crypto money) and elect the GOP as the party of "caveat emptor"/"that makes me smart":

https://www.coindesk.com/news-analysis/2024/12/02/crypto-cash-fueled-53-members-of-the-next-u-s-congress

Crypto epitomizes the caveat emptor economy. By design, fraudulent crypto transactions can't be reversed. If you get suckered, that's canonically a you problem. And boy oh boy, do crypto users get suckered (including and especially those who buy Trump's shitcoins):

https://www.web3isgoinggreat.com/

And for crypto users who get ripped off because they've parked their "money" in an online wallet, there's no sympathy, just "not your keys, not your coins":

https://www.ledger.com/academy/not-your-keys-not-your-coins-why-it-matters

A cornerstone of the "unfair and deceptive" world is that only suckers – that is, outsiders, marks and little people – have to endure consequences when they get rooked. When insiders get ripped off, all principle is jettisoned. So it's not surprising that when crypto insiders got taken for millions the first time they created a DAO, they tore up all the rules of the crypto world and gave themselves the mulligan that none of the rest of us are entitled to in cryptoland:

https://blog.ethereum.org/2016/07/20/hard-fork-completed

Where you find crypto, you find Elon Musk, the guy who epitomizes caveat emptor thinking. This is a guy who has lied to drivers to get them to buy Teslas by promising "full self driving in one year," every year, since 2015:

https://www.consumerreports.org/cars/autonomous-driving/timeline-of-tesla-self-driving-aspirations-a9686689375/

Musk told investors that he had a "prototype" autonomous robot that could replace their workers, then demoed a guy in a robot suit, pretending to be a robot:

https://gizmodo.com/elon-musk-unveils-his-funniest-vaporware-yet-1847523016

Then Musk did it again, two years later, demoing a remote-control robot while lying and claiming that it was autonomous:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/10/14/tesla-optimus-bots-were-controlled-by-humans-during-the-we-robot-event

This is entirely typical of the AI sector, in which "AIs" are revealed, over and over, to be low-waged workers pretending to be robots, so much so that Indian tech industry insiders joke that "AI" stands for "Absent Indians":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Musk's view is that he's not a liar, merely a teller of premature truths. Autonomous cars and robots are just around the corner (just like the chatbots that can do your job, and not merely convince your boss to fire you while failing to do your job). He's not tricking you, he's just faking it until he makes it. It's not a scam, it's inspirational. Of course, if he's wrong and you are scammed, well, that's a you problem. Caveat emptor. That makes him smart.

Musk does this all the time. Take the Twitter blue tick, originally conceived of as a way to keep Twitter users from being scammed ("unfair and deceptive") by con artists pretending to be famous people. Musk's inaugural act at Twitter was to take away blue ticks from verified users and sell them to anyone who'd pay $8/month. Almost no one coughed up for this – the main exception being scammers, who used their purchased, unverified blue ticks to steal from Twitter users ("that makes me smart").

As Twitter hemorrhaged advertising revenue and Musk became increasingly desperate to materialize an army of $8/month paid subscribers, he pulled another scam: he nonconsensually applied blue ticks to prominent accounts, in a bid to trick normies into thinking that widely read people valued blue ticks so much they were paying for them out of their own pockets:

https://www.bbc.com/news/technology-65365366

If you were tricked into buying a blue tick on this pretense, well, caveat emptor. Besides, it's not a lie, it's a premature truth. Someday all those widely read users with nonconsensual blue ticks will surely value them so highly that they do start to pay for them. And if they don't? Well, Musk got your $8: "that makes me smart."

Scammers will always tell you that they're not lying to you, merely telling premature truths. Sam Bankman-Fried's defenders will tell you that he didn't actually steal all those billions. He gambled them on a bet that (sorta-kinda) paid off. Eventually, he was able to make all his victims (sorta-kinda) whole, so it's not even a theft:

https://www.cnn.com/2024/05/08/business/ftx-bankruptcy-plan-repay-creditors/index.html

Likewise, Tether, a "stablecoin" that was unable to pass an audit for many years as it issued unbacked, unregulated securities while lying and saying that for every dollar they minted, they had a dollar in reserves. Tether now (maybe) has reserves to equal its outstanding coins, so obviously all those years where they made false claims, they weren't lying, merely telling a premature truth:

https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/cryptocriticscorner/episodes/Tether-wins–Skeptics-lose-the-end-of-an-era-e2rhf5e

If Tether had failed a margin call during those years and you'd lost everything, well, caveat emptor. The Tether insiders were always insulated from that risk, and that's all that matters: "that makes me smart."

When I think about the next four years, this is how I frame it: the victory of "that makes me smart" over "fairness and truth."

For years, progressives have pointed out the right's hypocrisy, despite that fact that Americans have been conditioned to be so cynical that even the rankest hypocrisy doesn't register. But "caveat emptor?" That isn't just someone else's bad belief or low ethics: it's the way that your life is materially, significantly worsened. The Biden administration – divided between corporate Dems and the Warren/Sanders wing that went to war on "unfair and deceptive" – was ashamed and nearly silent on its groundbreaking work fighting for fairness and honesty. That was a titanic mistake.

Americans may not care about hypocrisy, but they really care about being stolen from. No one wants to be a sucker.

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 01

post cibum - "after a meal" - Kinktober Masterlist TF141 x f!reader Kinks > wet/messy, food play, objectification Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Your new job as a professional nyotaimori model pays all the bills and then some, but tonight, you are serving a group of soldiers who want more than just the novelty of eating fancy sushi rolls off of a naked woman. After they’ve had their fill of the nigiri and the rolls, they want you for dessert. 

“That’s fine, sir. We can do a seven o’clock tonight. Have you had a chance to choose your selections from the menu?”

You strained your ears as you listened to your maître d' consult with a customer over the phone. You were prepping in the adjoining room, going through your normal routine, but the growling, Manchester accent coming through the speaker was making it difficult to focus.  

“Yeah, give us a full spread. The works. No barriers.”

It must be a big party, you thought. The full spread option included a large array of sushi and sashimi. Asking for no barriers was quite adventurous, and you felt your skin flush with excitement. 

“Yes, sir. And would you like your artist bound or unbound?”

“Mm,” he thought for a minute, and you tried to send telepathic messages to the gruff stranger, “Let’s have ‘er tied down.”

Yes, you celebrated, already imagining the feel of the ropes crossing over the big, wooden table and pinning you to it, forcing you to stay in place all night long.

“And will you be including the sake option?”

“Yeah, sure. Johnny’s a bloody lush.”

Your heart began to race just imagining what sort of night you were in for. The sake option meant needing to shave your sensitive pussy completely bare, so you added that step to your process. Being a food model wasn’t something anyone seemed to take seriously, but you felt like a true artist, and you wanted your guests to have an unforgettable experience when they came to dine with you… on you. 

“Alright, sir, that’s –”

“And we want the additional package. I’ll pay extra. Whatever it costs. Just put it on the tab.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like A, B, or C?” 

The additional package? How did he know about that? You’d never performed for this man before – you would not have been able to forget that voice – and only your regulars knew about your secret options.

“A and B, but keep her mouth open, yeah? In case she gets hungry…”

His dark laugh made your blood burn in your veins. Your add-on package meant that he wanted to fill your holes while you lay on the table for him. Option A was for a large glass dildo in your pussy, warmed and heavy, option B was for a bulbous anal plug made of the same body-safe glass, and option C was for a rubber ball-gag in your mouth. But, he wanted to have access to you there, and that made you almost see stars when you thought about the implications. What did your mystery Manc have planned for you?

“Yes, sir. Do you know how many will be in your party tonight?”

“Four. The one with the mohawk is the birthday boy.”

“Thank you, sir. I will add that to the notes. Any allergies?”

“No.”

“And the name for the party?”

“Riley.”

“Thank you. See you later.”

When she hung up the phone, you listened to her boots clack against the marble floor as she came into your dressing room,

“Hey babes, here’s your ticket for tonight. Table of four. Bunch of soldiers. Sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, not feeling as confident as you sounded, “Just make sure to keep their drinks coming. They tip more when they’re drunk.”

You winked at her and she laughed, closing the door behind her to let you finish grooming and cleansing your body. 

Each swipe of your razor was another tantalizing part of your ritual. Once you were fully shaved, you cleaned your skin with special antibacterial soap before applying neutral oils that wouldn’t affect the taste of the food. No perfume, no deodorant. Those were the standards. You weren’t allowed to talk, or to move if you were bound by the tight ropes that pinned you to the table, and you were simply there to be a beautiful platter for the immaculately-made sushi. 

At more traditional restaurants, your position was revered, and guests were forbidden from interacting with you directly. You’d worked at a number of venues that hosted nyotaimori events, all with varying levels of standards and rules, but this one paid the most. This place allowed their guests to do almost anything they wanted, and those high risk situations added to the excitement and to your bank account. However, you’d never felt safer. There were cameras, guards, and highly trained staff all over the premises, and if you ever needed to press your emergency button, you could do so. You wore your panic ring at all times, and you’d used it effectively once or twice; it worked like a dream. 

But, you had to admit, it wasn’t just the money that kept you coming back here. You liked the clients. You liked feeling their hands and mouths eating off of your warm body. You enjoyed the more adventurous customers who wanted to taste you and touch you after they were done with their food. It was exhilarating, and you loved being at their mercy. 

Just before your call time, your attendant brought you your glass dildo and anal plug from the back. They had been sanitized, and you used a little lube to insert the familiar, rigid shape into your pussy. You felt yourself already wet from anticipation, and although the glass phallus was thick and heavy, you took it with a satisfying ease. 

The anal plug was another story. You used much more lube and began to play with your hole with your fingers before you committed to pressing it through your tight rim. The pressure from the fat dildo in your cunt made it even harder to accept, but after a few deep breaths, you felt your body relax and allow the round bulb to sit inside of your ass, pushing against all of the sensitive nerve endings inside of your stretched hole. 

You washed your hands thoroughly and cleansed your skin again, just to be sure. Eventually, you finished with your prep and walked through the hallways to lay on your long black table. It was a chabudai, a short table where guests would sit on mats on the floor, and the dining room where you served was dimly lit, very minimally decorated, and had instrumental music playing softly through the speakers. You looked up into the corner and saw the camera light go from red to green. It was showtime. 

Your attendant returned to perform your shibari. You were laying on your back, and she tied your wrists to your thighs, making sure to position your thumb so that you could press your panic ring easily. Then, she began to lay the ropes over your ribs, framing your breasts, using the ties to make them stand perky and proud on your chest. Finally, she fed the bindings under the table and fastened them down. You were stuck. You could bend your knees and twist your body, but that was about it. 

“All good, ma’am?” She asked.

You nodded,

“Yes, thank you. All good.”

“Alright. I’ll tell chef.”

She left you alone, and you tried your best to focus on your breathing. The dildo was nudging a very sensitive spot inside of you, and you pulsed against it, attempting to find some relief. But, you were just making it worse. Your clenching muscles were allowing it to thrust against you, and no amount of wiggling was going to grant you any reprieve. So, you stopped. You shut off your mind as much as you could, listening to the music and imagining an infinite, empty expanse in your head. 

The door clicked open and the sushi chef came in with his two other servers. They set to work, laying slabs of salmon and octopus sashimi across your breasts in a spiral pattern, using delicate roe to dust the inner circle over your hard nipples, making it look like the pollen-covered pistil of a flower, the fish serving as your beautiful petals. 

A row of maki trailed their way down your belly and each arm. More sashimi were laid on all the places where a roll wouldn’t sit, and one of the chef’s assistants began to place thinly-sliced mango across your neck like a choker. Your legs were covered in sushi and more fruit, and finally, right in the join of your legs, you balanced a bowl with a single lotus flower inside. 

The door cracked again, and your attendant poked her head in,

“Chef, your party is here. Should we send them in?”

The chef nodded, and everyone left the room. But, this time, the silence was deafening rather than zen. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t wait to see and hear and feel what these four guests had in store for you. 

Finally, the door opened, and you heard their jovial laughter and talking. 

“Cannae believe you got a reservation, LT! Been dyin’ to try this for the longest.”

“I know, Johnny,” you recognized that deep, Manchester accent, “Won’t shut up about it.”

Johnny finally came into view. He peered down at you with a uniquely boyish wonder, staring at your face and your body like a kid at Christmas, eager to unwrap his presents. His friends surrounded him on both sides. You guessed that the wry blond was Simon, your vocal crush. You didn’t know the other two, but they were just as nice to look at. One of them was enormous, over-muscled with a bit of a belly, and an odd beard. The other was like a professional athlete, chiseled and masculine, with big brown eyes and dark, smooth skin. 

“Sure is a pretty plate, huh, lads?” The beard spoke with a growling, gravely Scouse accent. He was a smoker, that was for sure. 

“Fittest table I’ve ever seen,” the athlete smiled, his full lips revealing sharp, blinding teeth. 

“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” your attendant put on her best sexy customer-service voice, “First round is on the house.”

“Oh, shit,” Johnny laughed.

He and his friends ordered an absurd amount of alcohol, and then you were left alone with your party. 

“Think we can get started?” Johnny asked, “Is that alright with you, bonnie?”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as the bearded one hit him lazily on the arm with the back of his hand, 

“She isn’t supposed to speak, MacTavish. Didn’t you fuckin’ listen, or is all the blood that’s meant to be in your brain stuck in your prick?”

“Here, Captain,” the athlete called the bearded one over, “Try this.”

You felt the soft wood of your restaurant’s polished chopsticks graze the side of your breast as he lifted a slab of salmon off of your skin. 

The captain grabbed the fish with his fingers clumsily, but he slurped it down, groaning with pleasure,

“Mm, that’s not bad, Gaz.”

Johnny reached out to you, his hands steady and sure, 

“Lemme try…”

You felt his warm thumb graze over the top of your nipple, pushing some of the fresh roe onto a cut of octopus, and as he curled the fish, he let it drag over the same spot he touched, purposefully teasing you. 

Once they started, they didn’t want to stop. Their hands were roaming all over you, picking up food and feasting on what you had to offer. 

“Look here,” Gaz commented, letting his fingers swipe up the side of your ribs, gathering up dark sauce and licking it off of his knuckle. 

“Oh, tha’ looks tasty,” Johnny smiled, leaning his head down and using his tongue to lick up the rest of the flavor, taking great pains to get as close to the side of your breast as he dared. 

They were getting braver, but you could tell they still weren’t sure what they were allowed to do.

Before long, your attendant was back, ready to get more drinks and appetizers for your men, and you listened to them politely dismiss her, too focused on their task at hand: uncovering you from your delicate morsels of sushi. 

“Mm,” Simon grunted, “Not bad, hm?”

“It’s proper tasty,” the captain agreed. 

“I’m so glad to hear you’re enjoying yourselves,” your attendant encouraged them, “Could I interest you in a sake presentation?”

“Wha’s tha?” Johnny asked with his mouth full, excited to know more. 

“Your artist has more than one talent, gentlemen,” she smiled coyly down at you, kneeling beside the table, carefully removing the bowl from where it was so carefully perched on your pussy. 

The whole room stood still as your smooth, oiled vulva was revealed. Your attendant leaned over you, pouring warm sake into the divot between your closed legs and your mons, filling the space with drink. She made sure the men were looking at her with rapt attention, and she bent to suck the alcohol from your body, her mouth sucking right below your clit, slurping up the delicious sake until it was almost gone. 

“Creepin’ Jesus,” Johnny said under his breath, “Can I do one, lass?”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, “Of course! You can do anything you like.”

“Anything…”

Johnny’s eyes watched as she filled the crevice between your legs again, letting the sparkling fluid pool and ripple against your skin. Then, when she was done with her pour, he bent to drink from you, putting his mouth exactly where hers had been, gulping and swallowing the sweet brew, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy until you were empty. Then, he stole a lick, shoving his tongue between your lips to tease your clit, testing the limits of what was allowed, trying to find the boundary. 

“I’ll leave the bottle, yes?” Your attendant asked, leaving it on the table without waiting for an answer. 

“Thanks, love,” the captain smiled, watching his friend hovering over your wet quim as Johnny considered going back between your legs for seconds.  

“Go on, then, Sergeant,” Simon encouraged him, “For what I fuckin’ paid, you better enjoy it.”

That was the only permission the mohawked birthday boy needed. He sank his hot mouth down onto your pussy and began to suckle at your clit like it was part of his meal. He laved his tongue inside of your swollen lips, licking you in rhythmic, rolling thrusts. 

You tried your best to control your reactions, but there was only so much you could do to contain your pleasure. Gaz noticed when your eyes rolled back in your head, your lashes fluttering closed as you tried to breathe through the feeling. 

“Delicious, aren’t ya, babe?” 

He bent his head to your breast, feasting on the two pieces of sashimi that were left behind, using his tongue to pull them into his mouth. You could feel the warmth of his full lips on your skin as he ate from you, and every little touch was electrified by Johnny’s feast between your legs. 

As Gaz chewed on his bite, he used his thick finger to scoop up the fresh roe that remained on the peak of your nipple. Then, he bent over you, smiling like a demon, 

“Open up.”

You obeyed, and you melted into your submission. The hard, unflinching stare from those big brown eyes was enough to crush your will to dust. You felt your skin flush across your whole body as you surrendered to him, as if allowing him to control you made you even more sensitive to the touching, licking, kissing, and groping that was happening to you.

He slipped his finger past your lips, placing the roe carefully on your tongue. You felt the tiny eggs spill into your lips like beads. Just when you were about to swallow them, he grabbed your chin in his hand sharply, his face turning darkly serious,

“Hey, open, I said. There’s a good girl. Stick that pretty tongue out for me. Say ahh, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, and to your shock, he bent his mouth over yours and spit into your throat. You could feel the bubbling drool pooling in your cheeks and sliding to the back of your tongue, but there was nothing you could do about it. His lips turned up into that same dirty smirk as he said, 

“Swallow.”

You took the roe into your mouth and swallowed it along with his saliva, the salt of the fish eggs mixing with the salt and alcoholic tinge in his spit. He must’ve been drinking at the bar before his party sat down at your table because the herbal scent of gin was unmistakable. 

He pet your cheek with the back of his hand, praising you with his touch, watching your face twist with pleasure as Johnny became almost uncontrollable between your legs. The mohawked man was sucking so hard on your clit that the slurping sounds from his mouth were filling the room. 

Gaz bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back. The softness of his lips lulled you into an even deeper sub state, and you felt like you were melting. Suddenly, he forced his tongue into your mouth and wrapped a huge palm around your jaw, holding you in place as he began to slide his slippery muscle in and out of your cheeks. It was as if he was fucking your throat with his tongue, and your mind fed you an imaginary scene of how his cock might feel in its place. 

When he pulled away, you felt Johnny stop his kisses as well, and your body writhed without your consent, desperate to feel them tasting you again. 

“This is the best fuckin’ birthday I’ve ever had,” Johnny smiled, wiping a hand across his shining mouth. 

The man who’d made the booking, Simon, sat beside his friend and pointed between your legs,

“Pour us one, Johnny.” 

“Aye. Here ya go, lads. Slàinte mhath.”

You watched as he poured sake into the divot between your legs again, but he over-indulged. He began to pour it across your belly as well, letting it pool in your belly button and settle in the dip of your sternum. 

The captain was the first to take a sip. He lapped at the pool of sake that splattered across your mons and lips like a hound, aiming to taste you more than he was the alcohol. Then, he followed Johnny’s trail, dragging his hot tongue along the swell of your tummy, aiming for the well of spirits in your belly button. He hovered over it when he found it, and as he leaned down to drink from you, you could feel the tickle of his mustache, making you squirm.

His filthy, gravelly chuckle made your blood run cold. It seemed that he enjoyed forcing your body to respond to his touch. 

“Ticklish, love?” He returned to your lower belly, letting the bristles of his beard tease you until your breathing became ragged, your lungs trying to suck in, doing your best to pull away from him and yet not being able to escape. 

Your tormentor shoved Gaz around the table so that he could tease your breast with his bearded mouth, and Gaz followed suit, both of them fighting for the puddle of sake between your breasts before suckling on your tight nipples. They had such different agendas. Where Gaz seemed to suck because he wanted to see you squirming from pleasure, the captain seemed hell-bent on keeping you from it. 

You could feel him biting into your delicate flesh with his sharp teeth, causing just enough pain to pull you out of your relaxed, pleasure-induced haze. Then, when he could see your eyes flash with just a hint of apprehension, he would retreat, rewarding your responsiveness with a long, deep suck or hungry, flat licks with his tongue, a barely-there smile twisting across his cheeks as he did. 

You felt something brush against your leg, and Simon was using a napkin from the table to wipe the rest of the food off of your legs, not giving a shit about the hundreds of pounds worth of sushi being gathered up in the cloth. Dinner, apparently, was over. 

Your mind raced. This was far and beyond the bravest party you’d ever served before. They worked on you as a team, giving each other silent feedback, and when Simon finally bent to drink from between your legs, your mind was throbbing from the overstimulation. 

You weren’t supposed to, but you began to let long, cracking moans escape from your throat. Anything you did to hold them back was just making them worse, and your voice only seemed to spur these men to double down on their efforts. 

Simon did not eat you like Johnny did. His Scottish companion ate you out like you were the food, but the Manc was more like his captain. He wanted to see where your buttons were, and when he found them, he began to press them just like a lad playing with a shiny new toy. 

His tongue found the body of your clit and swirled around it, avoiding the searing head, swollen and sensitive to the point of discomfort. Instead, he pushed the tip of his tongue just below it, lifting it up, making the hood stretch just enough to apply its pressure. 

You bucked your hips, the sake that rested in your thighs sloshing out, ignored by your new master. He didn’t give you a smug grin like his bearded boss. In fact, you could barely tell what emotion he was feeling. It wasn’t until you met his gaze that you noticed the fire behind his eyes. 

Only then did he begin to drink from you, emptying the alcohol from your body, letting his tongue venture down into the crevice of your thighs and licking between them as if they were your cunt. He had gone deep enough to feel the edge of your dildo, and when he found it, he turned to the others, getting their attention,

“Had them do something special for Johnny. Wanna see your surprise?”

Johnny had been busy sharing a nipple with Gaz, leaving hungry little hickies across your skin. But, when Simon called him over, he seemed all too eager to return between your legs.

“Aye,” he smiled rakishly, “Gonnae spoil me, Si.”

All four men shifted to the foot of the table, their eyes wide and focused on you like hyenas with a wounded gazelle, selfish and ready for their next taste of you.

Simon took your legs and lifted them up, bending your thighs at the hip, showing the others how two fat, glass dildos were shoved deep inside of your holes. 

“Oh, bonnie…” Johnny reached forward, grabbing the dildo stuck in your pussy gently between his fingers and giving it just the slightest twist, “For me? Such a good lass, innit she?”

Simon reached down below Johnny’s hand and began to tug at the anal plug. The resistance was driving you mad. You tried to relax, but he was not waiting on you, and the pressure began to build and build until finally, your muscle relented and you felt the heavy bulb slip wetly out of your asshole, soaking in lube.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz murmured, not wasting any time, sticking a long finger into the gaping hole left behind by the plug, testing the stretch of your ass with his strong hands. 

Simon pressed it back in, forcing Gaz away, slowly fucking the heavy toy back into you, letting it sink inside of your body with a sloppy pop, pushing on it just a little harder than he needed to so that it would feel like it was thrusting inside of you. 

Then, Johnny did the same with the dildo in your swollen pussy. He didn’t pull it all the way out, choosing instead to fuck you with it, shoving it into your hole with wet, slicking sounds, marvelling at the sight. 

You were so drunk from the pleasure that you hadn’t noticed their captain sneaking around to the head of the table. He startled you, grabbing you beneath your arms and yanking you and your ropes up, strong enough to move you even though you were tied down. He had pulled you far enough that your head hung off the edge, and you found yourself staring at his black slacks, amazed at the thickness of his thighs. Then, you watched him roll down his zipper, stroking his cock until it gleamed with his precome. 

You felt his other hand supporting the back of your head, holding you at just the angle he wanted. Then, he purred his command to you,

“Let me in, pretty girl.”

You allowed your muscles to weaken, opening you mouth wide, unsure if you could pry your mouth open enough for his girth to fit inside of you. He chuckled in that same, devilish way, slapping his sticky head against your lips twice before feeding his head into your cheeks, settling at the back of your throat, letting you gag and cough around him all you wanted and doing fuck-all about it. 

Between your legs, you felt the dildo slip out of your pussy, replaced with eager fingers and a tongue. Now that you had the captain’s thick cock to block your noises, you let yourself whine against him like a gag, moaning and crying out from the overwhelming feeling of being used. 

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, lads,” he grunted, “Make her scream for me.”

Both of his hands were cradling your head as he fucked your throat, guiding his fat dick in and out of you like a piston. You breathed when you could, but it was only just enough, and you felt yourself going light-headed. 

A mouth found your nipple again, and a hand rolled itself beside your clit, making frantic circles from above. Then, below your thighs, a round prodding cockhead pressed its way into your lubricated walls, making your dildo seem like nothing more than a thick finger or two. You were being well-stretched, and your body flooded your cunt with wetness to try and ease his way, doing everything it could to make it easier for whoever it was to fit his prick into your warm body.

He rested your ankles against his neck, and your bare feet scraped the side of his head. Buzzed hair. It was the birthday boy afterall. 

“Mmmph, fuckin’ hell, bonnie. Too tight. Too goddamn tight. Fuck…”

As he pumped himself into you, his movements made free and fast by the lube and your dripping cunt, your whole body began to jerk across the table. These men weren’t just large; they were stronger than you could’ve ever imagined, and you felt like you were nothing more than a mere toy to them. 

The fingers teasing your clit were sending your mind into a panicked orgasm, and your whole body convulsed as you let yourself tumble into the swirling madness of your bliss, your eyes wrenched shut and flashes of rainbow light dancing across them as you came violently. 

Apparently, that was enough to send the captain over his edge because as you were trapped in the throes of your orgasm, he shoved himself all the way inside of you and began to pulse hot shots of his come into your belly. You were desperate for air, but there was nothing you could do. They were in control of you, and you were ashamed by how much you enjoyed being at their mercy. 

“Ohhh, Cap’n. She loves tha’, dontcha, lass?”

“Knew she would,” the captain slipped out of your throat, smiling down at you as you gasped wetly for a breath, “Filthy little slag.”

You watched as he shifted to the side of you, his thighs leaving your line of sight, being immediately replaced by a pair of dark jeans. You knew it was Gaz when his wide thumb reached down to wipe the drool and come from your lips, lovingly cleaning up after his captain’s mess. 

“Being so good for us. Still hungry, baby?”

You couldn’t answer him, but he didn’t care. He tugged his long, curved rod out of his pants and let his balls rest on your mouth. You started to suckle on one of them, taking it into your mouth and letting it roll between your lips.

“Yeah, she is. Mmff-fuck, tha’s it.”

Gaz lifted your head up with his hand to help you reach, stroking his huge shaft with the other, jerking off as you did your best to pleasure him, trying to be careful with his sensitive sack. 

Johnny’s thrusts became frantic. Simon and his captain were taking turns pouring sake across your belly and sucking it off of you, and you were dizzy from the feeling of being fucked with your heavy plug inside of you. When you began to come again, it hit you slowly, building and building in waves, making you tremble from the suffocating joy of it. 

You cried out, and your mouth was open wide in a silent oh. Gaz took the chance to feed you his cockhead, giving you something to scream around. You felt Johnny pause deep inside of you, his cock nestled as close to your womb as he could get, and he began to fill you with his come, shamelessly bending himself over you to fit his rod down to its root in your wetness. 

“Christ, bonnie! Come for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hnngh…” 

He slid himself out of you, but almost immediately, someone filled your empty hole with your dildo, keeping his load sealed safe inside. 

Gaz was still jerking his cock as he rested his tip inside your mouth, and you could feel him shuddering above you, his fingers twisted and tugging at the base of your scalp. 

“Suck on me harder. Yesss,” he groaned, “Just like that… mmfgh. Good… girl…” 

You felt him throbbing, pulsing, and ready to come. Then, just when you were ready to taste him, he pulled out and painted your mouth, chin, and neck white with his seed. There was so much of it, and whatever your tongue could reach, you licked it up, sucking him clean when he let you have the tip one more time before he smeared the remnants of his dripping cream across your cheek. 

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands returned to the back of your head and lifted it up. At the same time, another man yanked your whole body back down the table, making the wood creak from the stress. Now, you could see what was happening to you. 

Simon was holding your thighs, playing with your pussy, making sure your dildo was nice and snug. Then, he removed your anal plug again, twisting it out with a steady tug. When you made a whimpering cry, he looked up at you, and you saw that same light in his gaze, a hunger unlike that of his other friends. Something uncanny and secret about his message that you failed to decode. 

He began to pry open your asshole with his fingers, exploring just past the rim. First, it was just one, but then it was two. They twisted, curling inside of you, plunging deeper and deeper and testing how pliant you were. Your plug was pretty large, so you weren’t usually concerned about a man’s cock being a challenge. But, the way he was preparing your hole made your whole body tense with anticipation, worried about what was going to happen to you. 

You watched him rest your heels on his shoulder, just like his friend had done, and his tattooed hand held your thighs as the other placed his swollen head at the rim of your asshole, teasing it, barely even touching you. 

You thought he would plunge inside, but he never did. He just kept painting little warm circles around you, pressing on the outside yet never allowing himself to slip into your ass. 

“Mngh…” You whined, twisting your hips as much as you could, begging for it. 

“What’s that? Speak up, love. Can’t hear ya.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing you weren’t allowed to break your ceremonial rule but desperate just the same. He let himself smile softly down at you, planting his head at your hole and using the weight of his cock to rest it there. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tell me you want it. It’ll be our little secret.”

His friends were kneeling around you, spent but still groping your body, licking and kissing you lazily, enjoying watching Simon torment you.

“She doesnae wanna break the rules, Si. Good lass tha’ she is,” Johnny cooed, letting his fingers rest on either side of your clit, drawing deep ovals and watching your face twist in desperation.

“Let him hear it, love. We won’t tell,” the captain whispered in your ear, using his fingers to slide Gaz’s come from your chin into your mouth, making you taste his salty seed. He kept his fingers inside of your lips, pushing them all the way to the back of your throat, letting you suck on them, “Tha’s right. Our perfect little slut.”

Your mind went blank, and all you could focus on was the feeling of relief that would come to you if you just broke your rule…

The captain removed his hand, returning to your tits to suck on them and pinch your nipples. Then, Simon pressed forward just a little more, giving you his head before immediately taking it away, leaving you hollow.

“... please…” You whispered, your voice so shallow and small. 

“What? Cannae hear you, bonnie,” the Scot smiled, moving his hand faster between your pussy lips. 

“I think I heard something, did you?” Gaz joked, raising his eyebrows at Simon, smacking your ass cheek with the palm of his hand. 

“Say it,” Simon growled. 

His team was all smiles, but he was dead on. You locked eyes with him and said it again.

“Please.”

“Fuck,” Simon’s eyes rolled back in his head, the whites peeking through his long lashes, and he sank himself deep into your asshole in one punishing thrust. 

He was as thick as your plug, but he was so much longer, and you had never felt so stretched out in your whole life. As he began to fuck you, he wrapped his hand around the dildo in your pussy, covered in come and lube, and he fucked you in time with his own prick, making it seem like he was in both places at once. 

“You ready for more?” Simon asked you breathlessly, checking in with you. 

You nodded, fuck-drunk but just as submissive as ever. Whatever he asked for, you were ready to give it to him. 

When he saw your shallow nods, he began to fuck you at an incredible pace. Your whole body was shuddering every time he slammed himself forward, and the strength of his thrusts was making you feel like his cock was even bigger than you thought, your poor asshole stretched past the point of comfort. 

“She’s takin’ it so good, Si,” Johnny sighed, watching your face go slack as his friend railed himself into you.

You weren’t even moaning. You were barely breathing. Your mind only had one goal: making you come and come and come. 

“Spread her legs,” Simon commanded his team. 

You heard the schnick of a knife’s blade being unsheathed, and then the ropes around your ankles were sliced away. Gaz and Johnny pulled your knees up to your chest, forcing you open for him like a book. 

Johnny bent down over your pussy and spat onto your slit, smearing it with his fingers. Then, he slapped you gently a few times, increasing the pain each time his hand came down until you were literally screaming from it. But, it didn’t hurt. It just made you come even harder. The pleasure was muting the pain to an incredible degree. You wanted him to give you more, but you were too far gone to ask. 

The captain was kissing your mouth, using his hands to feed you come again, and you couldn’t even kiss him back. Your body was frozen, your muscles tight and stuck in a loop of pleasure. You were coming in cyclical waves, unsure of where one started or ended, just suspended in blissful torment, sucking in breaths when your lungs allowed you to. 

Then, Simon’s movements stuttered, and he slowed, sinking into you as deep as he could fit before pulling out in one swift movement and jerking his cock right in front of your swollen, punished pussy.

He slid the dildo out of you, leaving you feeling empty to the point of grief, and you watched as he hovered at your entrance, shooting his load into your already-filled cunt. Rope after rope of milky come seared its way into you, messy but accurate. Then, he replaced the dildo and sat back on his heels, out of breath. 

His friends let your legs back down, and they all moved away from you, leaving little kisses on your body as they retreated. 

Once they recovered, they had one more shot of sake together, and Johnny poured one into your mouth. 

“There ya go, bonnie. Job well done, aye? This birthday party willnae be topped anytime soon.”

You swallowed the shot, tasting just not the alcohol but the remnants of Gaz’s come as well when it slid down your throat in tandem. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” the captain said, “You don’t have to say your goodbyes yet.”

Simon peered down at you over his shoulder,

“Riverbend street, apartment six, right?”

Your eyes went wide. How did he know where you lived? 

But, before you could ask him, they let themselves out, leaving you stunned, full of their come, and thrilled about what you would find when you finally made it home tonight.

[scientia-rex]

Hey. HEY. We aren’t good at understanding how bodies work. I spent five years in undergrad (I was indecisive; graduated with six years’ worth of credits), two in my terminal master’s program, four in med school, and three more in residency. I know a whole lot about how bodies work. I am qualified to tell you that we don’t know a lot more than we do know.

This means that, when you encounter a claim, you need to weigh it against what you have experienced.

I have met doctors who were sure fibromyalgia, or “muscle hurty disease,” from the roots of the word, was just women being crazy. Turns out it’s probably at least partly due to autoimmune dysfunction. Or maybe not! Sure would be nice if we knew! But I sure as shit know it’s real, because I have it and so do the women in my family. Our bodies don’t work right, somehow. They don’t work like other people’s bodies work. I experience more pain than I “should” based on what stimuli other people find painful. I have less ability to build and maintain muscle strength. This has not kept me from doing what I love most in the world, which is have opinions, to the point where I went through the horrifically awful process that is medical training in the US just so I could have opinions all day long and get paid for it. I gain nothing from saying I have it, and in fact risk the opinions of my professional peers if I do admit to it, since it is still seen as a disease of mental or moral weakness. I’m perfectly qualified to self-diagnose, as a board-certified family physician.

And yet I believed people in positions of authority for a long, long time who said it was a mental illness and not a bodily one. As if those even can be distinct, when our brains are part of our bodies and our experience of reality is filtered through their circuitry. But I believed that I was somehow to blame for being in pain.

Life has been better since I accepted that I just need to do some things differently. If I lift weights, I need to use machines, I need to start on the lowest possible setting, and I need to increase very gradually. If I do cardio, I need a low-impact model like an elliptical trainer; running outside, every time I have tried it in my life, results in incapacitating shin splints, even if I try to work up slowly. I no longer buy laundry bins that don’t roll. My home is all on one level. I go to physical therapy. I stash freezer dinners that contain (shudder) vegetables, my least favorite thing, so that when I do feel like shit, I have an alternative to starving (or eating a block of cheese that upsets my stomach).

Accommodate yourself. This society isn’t going to help much, if at all. In your good times and days, be the person whose help you’ll need in your worst days.

[toxycodone]

The way i need kabru to teach me the anatomy of the human body by using himself as a model and he’s explaining how all the vital points are laid out but he’s struggling because my hands are dipping a little too low below his belt and squeezing his neck a bit too firmly

vital points (kabru of utaya x reader)

wc. 1.5k

cw. romantic/sexual tension, nothing explicit

No one in Kabru's party is a particularly skilled dungeon crawler. Despite all efforts it seems his party is always taken out before they can do any true exploring of the dungeon's secrets.

Therefore, being the excellent leader that he is, Kabru has decided to take it upon himself to give out combat lessons. And it's only logical he starts with you first. Mickbell has his own specialties--poison darts and all. Kabru's not sure if he'd even be interested in lessons. And even if he was, would he even pay attention? It's probably not worth the trouble. Kuro is well, Kuro. What part of that demihuman's body isn't a weapon? His sharp senses make him one of, if not the most well-equipped members of his team. It's the main reason Kabru keeps a demi-human, one partly monster, like him around. Aside from the fact he's a package deal with the half-foot. Kabru's sure Kuro could make it throigh the dungeon on his own.

Daya is the second best. Strong. Capable. A weapons expert. She can take a hit and throw it back with ease. Rin and Holm are the magic users. Combat would likely be wasted on them. Rin's frail, but she already has similar knowledge to Kabru as she grew up with the same foster mom. And Holm...likely wouldn't agree to lessons. He's maintained a commitment to do no harm to others unless absolutely necessary. Kabru's not going to try to convince him to learn his way around a weapon and how to maim unless it's completely critical.

However. That leaves you.

You're different. Not entirely useless, but not entirely skilled on the other hand. Kabru's still trying to figure you out. Quite the enigma you are to him. He's come to the conclusion you're a jack-of-all-trades type of figure. For now, at least. You don't exactly take away from the party. But you're not hindering their descent, either. It's intriguing from an anthropological standpoint, yet infuriating from his stance as leader of his party.

But again, he wonders what skills you do possess, exactly. Everyone has their specialties, be it what it may. He wonders if combat might be something he can help you succeed--no, excel--in. He'll bring out the best in you via this method, and come to learn more about you in the process. Two birds with one stone. In the back of Kabru's mind, his own desire rears its head. The desire to be close to you. He's not exactly sure why or where this desire stems from. However...it can be satiated via a combat lesson. Three birds, he muses. You pique his interest in a variety of ways.

When it first comes to combat, jumping right in is never ideal. The first means of success comes from mapping out vital points. The human anatomy is a good start. Dungeons are full of demi-human and human adversaries alike. It's important to know them for one to defend themselves, unarmed or not. And these vitals seem to remain uniform among all creatures.

Head. Neck. Abdomen. Groin.

The four major sensitive groups one should know. He's starting small for now. Too much information could be overwhelming. It wouldn't be worth to teach you so much at once that

You're in front of him now, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not in a literal sense. A metaphorical one. Well, your eyes are bright. He's always liked them. Not that it matters. Why is he thinking of this?

Kabru shakes his head a little, trying to steady his thoughts. Back to business.

"The first lesson in defense is understanding anatomy." Kabru muses, looking through his notes. There's no real time to fetch a book at this point. Or a model. Kabru's not necessarily gifted at art either. Not that a simple drawing would do.

He can serve in its place, as an example. A physical specimen would be the most insightful. You're probably a hands on learner, he decides. It's definitely not as an excuse to have you close to him. Definitely not. Not that he's entirely against that, though.

"Starting with the head. There's plenty of areas you can exploit there," Kabru points to his eyes. You follow suit. They're such a striking blue. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.

"Eyes are the easiest to access. They're the first thing humans notice. You can predict someone's movements by figuring out where they're looking towards. It'll likely show you where they intend to attack." Kabru leans forward absentmindedly. "They're also sensitive. Even a simple move can distract or blind an opponent. Don't be afraid to strike there. Even though Mickbell might tease you for fighting dirty. All's fair in dungeon combat."

You chuckle and agree. Kabru's pleased his attempt at humor landed. It seems to lighten the air around you two.

"Next, the neck. There's two main points here you want to recognize." Kabru takes your hand, offering a reassuring smile as he does so, then presses it to the underside of his neck. They're a little cold, you note. And almost dainty. His hands aren't particularly calloused. He must take good care of them.

He guides your index finger to the skin on the outside of his neck. His skin carries a hint of heat to it.

"This is where the external jugular is located. It's one of the most important veins in the body. It carries blood to the head and neck area. Just a simple cut can slice through it. A simple turn of the head is enough to expose it."

He moves your hand more inward, now pressing slightly into the divot close to his trachea. His chest rises slowly, then falls. There's a faint beating under the skin now. Kabru's pulse.

"The internal jugular is here. If you can land a hit here, do it. You'll have to go deep and make sure you slice clean through the skin. It can disable a foe in seconds."

You try to keep your mind on the lesson. But his skin is remarkably soft. And smooth. You're close enough now to count his stubble. Well, you would if there was any to count. How does Kabru manage to keep himself so well groomed on dungeon excursions. Maybe you could count those thick, lovely eyelashes inste--

A simple call of your name breaks your thoughts. Not only were you not paying attention, but your fingerpads dig slightly into his skin. You struggle to find an explanation for your absentmindedness, then decide to pin it on you being hyperfocused.

Kabru, ever so forgiving, decides to move on without further question. Internally, you thank him for preserving your dignity. What's left of it. You're almost certain he's caught onto the fact your no longer solely doing this for the sake of combat knowledge.

"The abdomen hosts a majority of the body's necessary organs. The lung's can be pierced easily through the ribcage." Deft fingers lead you across the expanse of his chest. You're a bit shocked. Without his armor, Kabru's a lot smaller. Being revived time and time again has left its mark on his body. There's still power to him though. His muscle isn't all gone. You can surmise your leader has quite the lithe build.

Kabru continues to go on, despite you not listening. He likes to talk about anatomy, for one. But he's also trying to hide his own amusement at your reaction to touching him. You're admiring him in your own way. Which means you may harbor similar feelings towards him that he has towards you. Interesting. He takes note of this as your hands are guided lower.

Stomach. Liver. Kidneys.

And last is the groin.

Kabru's puzzled. He didn't really consider how this would play out in his hands-on anatomy lesson. Desire clouded his mind earlier, but now that he can peek through it...the realization of the situation sets in. How should he proceed? He can tell by your reactions you're fascinated by the lesson at the least. Kabru's sure you need this lesson. The groin is probably the most effective place to punch, kick, or slice in a pinch. As inappropriate as it is, in general and a workplace sense, he still wants you to keep touching him.

His hands leave yours. He's leaving it up to you, now. Whether you choose to continue or not will tell him what he wants to know--if he's been going too far or not.

"The groin is the last area you should become familiar with. I'm sure you're aware, but it's particularly sensitive." Kabru's not sure whether to look at you or your hands. He goes for the latter when your fingers trail over his belt, threatening to move towards the linen of his pants below.

"The genital area, more specifically. No matter the sex. A swift punch, kick. Even just grasping it. You can get an advantage in combat. Either as a distraction, or...."

Your fingers keep going lower. He's sure you aren't paying attention, now far too invested in your personal lesson on anatomy. There's a slight bulge in his pants. It's stiffens when you ghost over it.

Kabru's breath stifles. He swallows his spit like it's cement.

"A-and that's the gist of it."

Kabru stutters for the first time ever, you think. Your curious hands flee his body as a result, now returning to your sides. That was...exhilirating. So simple, yet...you can tell the two of you are craving more.

"Uh," You're first to break the awkward tension. "Thank you, Kabru. For the lesson. It was very informative." A certain tone lingers on the last word. Kabru can practically see the air quotations around it. His dark skin deepens with color. For once in your span of knowing him, Kabru's eyes don't tear into you.

"Right. It's my duty as your leader, after all. Thank you for listening. We can go back to the others now."

Kabru is known for his penchant for understanding others. Almost being able to predict their next moves with ease. However, your next move is wildly unpredictable, tossing out everything he once assumed about your attitude and demeanor.

You ask when the next lesson is. You'd like to study anatomy-perhaps his anatomy, more thoroughly.

And what he also doesn't expect is his eagerness to respond. The next lesson can't come soon enough.

[theflyingkipper]

A redo of my Edwards Exploit drawing from ages ago, now in traditional mixed media!

I felt like I didn't capture the mood I wanted last time when I looked it over again (to the horror of everyone who got to see this early. Thank you for gassing up the old one, and keeping me motivated through the making of this)

this version is much more directly studied off the Peter and Gunvor Edwards' illustration, because I've grown into the opinion that the model adaptation of exploit was really weak (technical limitations!!! what a shame) and i want to get back into studying these illustrations, there's a lot to pick apart in them.

Here's a bunch of perspective lines i drew over it when I was sketching. (I don't normally do that when I redraw, but that's usually because I'm drawing from model era screencaps and I can rely on those being proportional, most of the time) Edwards face breaks perspective here just a bit to add more drama to the scene, everything else is proportional.

some in-progress pictures, during which I absolutely HATED how it looked and wanted to switch to digital because I feared I'd messed it up irreconcilably 😭 good thing I was able to look at it with fresh eyes after staring at it for like four hours, the first session of drawing ended at 1am. Believe me, if you hate how your drawing is turning out, put it down and come back to it later!!

Edward is also more referenced off a real K2 here because I really like how they look. Unfortunately they have painful geometry.

something frustrating about my traditional drawings is how they can't be viewed from multiple angles online. I use silver gel pen to highlight some parts (here it's Edward's handrails and the damage) but it doesn't show up well when I photograph it head on. I hope this picture shows a little bit of how it shows up in real life!

(if you can't see, look at the bottom of Edward's boiler bands)

Hopefully you enjoyed reading under the cut :] I like explaining my process and I appreciate it immensely when someone shares my enthusiasm for it.

[giulliadella]

Speculative Biology of Euclydians (and Bill Cipher) part 2

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, UPDATE, Part 5

So this part is what you've all been waiting for, it took so long, but you'll quickly understand why. This part is:

The Biology of Bill Cipher

As always, this analysis is based on two assumptions:

Before Bill Cipher became a demigod, he was a biological, living organism and so were the rest of his species.

Even after Bill Cipher became a demigod, he still retained some physical characteristics of his biological form.

And a fair content warning: This contains anatomy illustrations. This isn't anything gory, but there are people who are squeamish, so you've been warned.

Click on the images to get better quality!

And without further ado, let's begin.

External structures

Euclydians are animals with a very specific shape. They have a shell in a form of a geometric shape and four limbs. Bill is an equilateral triangle, so my analysis will be just on triangular Euclydeans.

They have bilateral symmetry. This type of symmetry is characterized by having a left and a right side placed like mirror images of each other. Humans and majority of Earth’s animals also have this feature.

Bilaterally symmetrical organisms usually have a distinct head region, because of a process known as cephalization. This process moves the animal’s brain and sensory organs towards one end of the body – the head. Euclydians have a head. It’s the “tip of the pyramid” on Bill and that’s where the eye and other sensory organs and brain are located.

Finally, Euclydeans are segmented. Their segments are clearly visible as those weird brick lines on their body. Bill also often separates his body into three segments. This is a part of his god powers, but it tells us that Euclydeans have three major body segments, I’ll call them the tip, the middle and the base. Each segment contains specific organs.

Euclydeans are invertebrates. And yes, I know this image exists, but this is just Bill’s trolling. He’s making fun of human classrooms where we often find skeleton models. That skeleton wouldn’t even be functional, because it doesn’t have any joints in arms and legs, so it wouldn’t be able to move. And it has a hole where the brain would be, so you know, the fucking brain would fall out.

It was outright stated that Bill has an exoskeleton. Having both external and internal skeleton would be a big waste because you have two systems that do the same thing. Besides, the way Bill's limbs move is much more similar to an invertebrate. His shell is also somewhat bendable which would not be possible if it was made of bone. And the eye-mouth complex that Bill uses to eat would also be completely impossible with a set of vertebrate jaws.

Euclydean shell (or exoskeleton) is nothing like anything here on Earth. It’s most likely made out of silica combined with proteins. I say this because Bill turned to stone when he died and he also likes to eat glass, which is pure silica.

The exoskeleton is made out of several parts. It has a front (ventral) and back (dorsal) part. Both the front and the back part of the exoskeleton are made out of head region (the tip) and three layers of “bricks” which are just segments of the exoskeleton.

The front tip is probably made of more protein and elastic tissue than the back, because Bill has a very expressive “face”. This means that he also has quite complex facial muscles. The back of the head is probably the hardest part of the exoskeleton because it protects the brain. Bricks are in the middle since they have a very important role in speaking and breathing, but also allow the shell to bend.

Can Euclydeans change color, or is it just Bill Cipher using his god powers? Well, since he changes his color on instinct, I think they could! Bill can change color to black, yellow, red and blue. This means that he has a complex system of chromatophores – cells that contain little sacs full of pigment. When the sacs inflate, the body appears to be the color of the largest sac, whilst those deflated are invisible. Color changes depending on the pigments contained in inflated sacs. In Bill, the pigments are red, blue and yellow. Yellow is the standard color, it signifies neutral or content emotional state. He turns red when he's angry or wants to look intimidating and blue might signify fear, despair and cry for help. Black is the color of Euclydean’s skin, so when they look black, it’s because all pigment sacs have deflated and the transparent shell allows us to see the skin underneath.

And yes, Euclydeans have black skin. I know some people say that Bill wears thigh high boots and long gloves, but to me, that doesn’t make any sense. Like, that image of him in Theraprism is showing him with clothes over his supposed gloves and boots. Why would they make him wear sneakers over boots? And why baby Bill has yellow hands? Well, that’s something I’ll tell you in the next part where I’ll talk about babies.

Anyways, the skin is black, but we have no idea what it feels like. Seriously, so many people shook hands with Bill and nobody wrote down how his skin feels like! But we know that he has fingerprints. That means that he has very sensitive fingertips and that those little paws were made for grabbing things. Also, Bill doesn’t have any growths on his skin: no nails, hairs, scales etc. I know a lot of people love to draw Bill with claws, but he doesn’t have claws, not even in his most eldritch form. His fingers always remain small and soft. The legs have no fingers and the skin of the sole of their feet is probably thick.

Internal Structures

Coelom

Coelom is one of the most important organs, that you probably don’t know you even have! It’s a fluid filled cavity whose role is to separate internal organs from the muscles of the body wall. This allows organs to move and grow independently of your muscles and it also protects and cushions them against impact. In humans coelom is complex and it’s made out of pericardial cavity (around the heart – allows heart to pump blood), pleural cavity (around lungs – allows lungs to expand while breathing) and peritoneal cavity (around digestive system – allows for expansion and movement of digestive organs).

I believe that Euclydeans also have some form of a coelom. Coelom is even more important in invertebrates, as that’s where their immune system is and it can also serve as a supportive hydroskeleton. Since Euclydeans have a hard shell, they need the protection around their organs. Every shelled animal on Earth has coelom for that reason. They also need room for the food they eat, since the shell can’t expand and their limbs can enter the shell, so they need room for that too.

2. Nervous system

Euclydeans have a vast range of emotions, capability to communicate using speech, body language and even color shifting. They are as intelligent, or more intelligent than humans. They have a highly developed eye and other senses and all of this requires a nervous system. We saw Bill’s optic nerve when his eye got pulled out during Weirdmageddon, so he does have a nervous system, but I can't tell you how exactly it looks like.

There’s one part of Bill that I bet is similar to human - it’s his brain. Bill claims that he can take control over any being a long as they have neurons. This is his god like power, but then, why just beings with neurons? Well, most likely, because he has neurons too and kind of understands how they work. Maybe his brain even produces similar neurotransmitters as ours, so we’re easy to control with them. The brain is in the tip of the pyramid, slightly above eye and it likely has a lot of neurons and a very complex structure. I can’t tell you how exactly is his brain organized, but since he's bilaterally symmetrical, it’s very likely that it has hemispheres. He likely also has two neural cords, like most invertebrates, and those run down the dorsal (back) side of his body

3. Senses

Euclydeans have camera lens type eyes. Now here I can only speak of Bill, since we haven’t seen any other Euclydian. Bill’s eye is large, placed in the center of his “face”. It has eyelids with “eyelashes” (more on them later) and produces tears (Bill cries after his break up with Ford). The pupil is slit and vertical and there is no iris. However, there are muscles that can change the shape and dilation of the pupil. The eye looks similar enough to human that I can confidently say that he has cornea, lens and sclera. The eye is filled with refractory fluid and has some form of retina in the back. Bill’s eye changing color and being used as a projector or to shoot lasers are all parts of his god powers, however, it is possible that his species has a tapetum lucidum, a reflective layer of cells which help animals see in low light conditions and also makes the eye glow in the dark. Bill has color vision and he claims that he can see every part of the electromagnetic spectrum, but I think that's a part of his god powers. However, Euclydeans definitely could see in color, since their alphabet was basically a color code and they also use colors to express emotion.

Since Bill has fingerprints, we can confidently say that his fingers are the most sensitive part of his skin. Bill can feel through his shell too, just like every shelled organism ever (that's why he used Ford as a backscratcher). Tactile senses are very primitive, so Eucliydeans could feel cold, heat, pain, pressure, vibration and everything else just like we do.

Bill has a sense of smell and he even says which scents he finds attractive. This could mean that sense of smell plays a big role in reproduction of Euclydeans, but where is it located? Well, on the eyelashes. Except, those are not eyelashes, they are antennae. Bill has total eight of these antennae, 4 on lower and 4 on upper eyelid. They are very soft and sensitive, so he can retract them inside the eyelid. He does that when he feels threatened, so it’s probably a fight or flight response. His lashes get longer and he flutters his eyelid more near Ford, probably because he enjoys his smell. They are also located close to the mouth, so that’s how he samples the scents of the food.

Euclydeans have great hearing. They communicate vocally, sing, Bill can play the piano, so obviously, they hear. But I have no idea what they use to hear. It could be the bow tie, since it does look vaguely ear shaped, but it's possible that the bow tie isn't actually an organ. In that case, they could have an unknown structure inside them or they could just use their thin exoskeleton to catch sound vibrations.

They taste using their long tongue.

4. Muscles and movement

We have seen Bill’s muscles and they are striated skeletal muscles like mammals and insects have.

As the shell is kind of bendy, there is a lot of muscles underneath it. Those are the muscles of the body, they also move the face and bricks while speaking. The limbs have muscles too and two kinds at that.

When Ford shoots through Bill’s hat (which also a part of him) it is shown that inside of it are strange bone-like structures. These are not bones, since they aren’t articulated, but muscles do connect to them. They kind of remind me of echinoderm ossicles, but they don’t really look like them. This is another fully alien structure and I’ll call them anchors.

You know how Bill’s limbs can both bend just like human arms and legs, like he has elbows, wrists, knees and ankles, but they also bend like goofy rubber-hose cartoon anatomy? Well, that’s because there are two types of muscles in them. There are muscles attached to the anchor points and subcutaneous muscles.

Anchor points are located in the same places as joints in humans. Muscles that attach to them are long and strong and they are used for regulated, precise movement. The subcutaneous muscles (the one we see in his Weirdmageddon image) are used to bend the limbs in every other manner. They are not attached to anchors, but to the skin, so they resemble muscles of octopus arms. They are shorter and less strong, but when they act together they move the limbs in coils. These muscles are also responsible for squishing the limbs inside the shell when they are hidden.

Bill has incredible control and dexterity of his muscles, especially in arms and fingers. Even though his paws are soft and small, he can use them pretty much as efficiently as humans use their hands.

Possibly the strongest muscles in Bill's body are his jaw muscles, so let's talk about those jaws.

5. Eye-mouth complex and the digestive system

Having your eye used for feeding seems wild to us, but this adaptation is seemingly common in fictional geometric shaped people, as it has convergently evolved in Flatland’s inhabitants as well. And, speak what you like, but Euclydeans can’t choke on their food, so they have it better than humans.

I don’t know what Flatlanders eat, but Euclydeans are definitely predators. Now, I know that Bill sometimes depicts himself with human like teeth. The guy has a thing for teeth, especially molars, but he doesn’t have mammalian teeth. In every image where he opens his mouth that was not made by him, we see that he has cone shaped sharp teeth, like a predator. These teeth are great for biting and subduing prey, but they suck at chewing. Euclydeans can’t chew, so they they feed by swallowing chunks that they bite off, or swallowing their food whole if it’s small enough.

Here I depicted how this “eye-mouth complex” functions:

Euclydeans have a stomach in the middle of their body, but I have no idea what goes after it. My best guess is that they have a branching intestine. Our flattest organisms (flatworms, sea stars and brittle stars) all have this type of intestine. It basically means that, instead of just going like a tube, the intestine branches into different parts of the body. I also have no idea whether they have an anus and if it’s just one. This is just something I can’t tell you.

Since Euclydeans are capable of eating a lot of various things, I expect that they have accessory digestive glands (that’s liver and pancreas in humans). Strangely, despite the fact that his anatomy indicates a predator, Bill likes eating starch (pasta, empanadas, sandwiches etc). Most carnivores are unable to digest starch, so I went with god powers, but he ate sandwiches when he was a kid and had no god powers. So, we have two options. Either Euclydeans are omnivores (which, with those teeth, I doubt) or the animals on their planet store their excess calories as starch, not fat, so predators evolved the ability to digest it. If the second one is true, then Bill eating pasta is like your cat eating pure butter. It’s probably not healthy for him, but I don’t think he’s a guy who would give a single crap about that.

6. Breathing and speaking

In The Book of Bill, Bill says that “dumb trapezoids and rhombuses were sucking up his rightful oxygen”. This means that Euclydeans are aerobic organisms – they breathe oxygen. Their skin is dry, so they don't use it for breathing and they also speak, laugh and sing. All of this tells me that they have lungs.

I believe that their lungs are located near the base where the bricks are. The gaps between bricks have little tracheae that lead to the lungs. Bill most likely breathes in from his back side and breathes out from the front. The air is probably forced to travel through small crevices inside the lungs so that it can exchange the oxygen with blood. We don’t know whether Euclydeans exhale carbon dioxide, but they probably do, since they can eat our food, so they probably have similar metabolism to us Earthlings.

Since Euclydeans can speak and laugh, they probably have some kind of a diaphragm. In fact, I think they have two! Their voice has an echo, which means that, most likely, their lungs don’t always expel air at the same time. Air expelling causes the bricks to vibrate which produces sound. That’s why Bill seems to glow when he speaks – he’s actually vibrating. This action is also controlled by muscles. Depending on which row of bricks is vibrating and how many of them are involved, Bill changes the pitch and tone of his voice.

And the growling noise? Well, when Bill uses his demonic voice, he is doing one of two things. He is either using his god like powers to modify his voice, or that’s just how Euclydian vocal fry sounds. If you don’t know what vocal fry is, it’s produced when the vocal chords are vibrating slowly and they become out of sync. This produces a very specific sound and that sound can be made voluntarily. That’s how Mongolian throat singing works. Similarly, Euclydeans could slow down the rate at which their bricks vibrate and make them out of sync to produce that menacing “demon voice” as a threat display.

7. Circulatory system

We know how Euclydean blood looks like. It’s silvery and kind of seems like it glitches. It also contain chemicals that can make humans sick. This means that Euclydeans have much different blood from animals on Earth, but it certainly serves the same function. It’s used to transport nutrients and oxygen through their body.

Since the agents from The Book of Bill were able to draw his blood, it’s clear that Bill has a circulatory system and a closed one at that. The closed circulatory system means that blood vessels end in capillary nets and don’t open inside the body cavity like they do in molluscs and insects. If the agents used syringe to pull Bill’s blood and he had an open circulatory system, they could actually collapse the entire thing as they would pull his organs as well. That’s why I believe that he has a closed circulatory system.

Closed circulatory system requires a heart and I believe that Bill’s heart is located between his lungs, like ours. I have no proof that his heart looked anything like in the illustration, but I looove cardiology, so I did all this just because I wanted to draw a weird heart. I don’t think Euclydeans have a super complex four chambered heart like we do, they most likely have two or three chambered heart. The heart separates lung and body circulation and regulates their blood pressure.

The capillary nets are all located in important places: lungs where they exchange oxygen, intestines where they absorb nutrients and brain where they feed the neurons. Euclydeans have a rather large brain, so it probably uses most of their calories and oxygen.

8. Other systems

I can’t tell you anything abut Euclydean excretory system. I don’t know whether they produce urine or not, if they have kidneys, nephrocytes or something completely different. I genuinely have no idea.

They have to have an immune system because they are multicellular. Every single multicellular organism including sponges and plants has some form of an immune system. I believe Euclydeans have something similar to coelomocytes - a very common type of immune cells in invertebrates which reside in coelomatic cavity.

I'll talk about reproductive system in Part 3!

Are Euclydeans warm or cold-blooded?

This was a very tough one, because they could be both, but I am leaning more towards cold-blooded. They have very little muscle mass and heat is produced within the muscles via trembling or metabolic heat (heat released in various chemical reactions in the body). When an animal has very little muscle it isn’t used for that. Even mammals like sloths who have significantly reduced muscle mass become dependent on the surrounding temperature. Also, Euclydean flat shape can easily distribute heat they absorb, so they wouldn’t need to waste energy making their own. On top of that, Euclydeans don’t wear clothes, which can be a cultural thing, sure, but they could also not wear clothes because they need their skin exposed so that it could absorb heat.

Here's how Bill Cipher's complete inner anatomy looks like:

There, I hope you enjoyed this! I'll see you hopefully next week to tell you about Euclydean reproduction and development.

Thank you @ok1237 @unoriginal-starwalker and @chrystalitar for your support :D

(Also, I hid Ford Pines in one of the anatomy illustrations. Can you find him? Click on the images for better quality!)

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1977 Ford F-150 Ranger XLT 4×4

The 1977 Ford F-150 Ranger XLT 4×4 was a rugged and stylish full-size pickup, built for both work and off-road adventures. It offered multiple engine options, including the 300-cubic-inch inline-six, 351M V8, 400 V8, and 460 V8, delivering strong performance. A four-speed manual or three-speed automatic transmission paired with a New Process 205 transfer case provided reliable four-wheel-drive capability.

Its solid front axle, leaf spring suspension, and high ground clearance made it tough on rough terrain. The Ranger XLT trim added premium features like chrome trim, woodgrain interior accents, and upgraded upholstery. The bold grille, square headlights, and two-tone paint options gave it a classic late-'70s Ford truck look.

This model was part of the Sixth-generation F-Series, known for durability and reliability. It was a favorite among farmers, ranchers, and off-road enthusiasts due to its toughness and capability. Today, the 1977 Ford F-150 Ranger XLT 4×4 is a highly sought-after classic, admired for its vintage styling, strength, and off-road performance.

[theambitiouswoman]

11 Lessons from the book Atomic Habits 🌟

"Atomic Habits" focuses on incorporating small, consistent habits into our lives to bring about significant change over time. The book introduces a four-step model for building habits, emphasizing cues, cravings, responses, and rewards. It also guides you in overcoming bad habits and self-limiting beliefs, demonstrating how simple habits can lead to substantial progress toward our goals.

Lesson 1: Habits Over Hobbies: You are not inherently bad at your hobbies. Instead, it's the lack of consistent habits that has held you back.

Lesson 2: Identity Matters: Our self-image greatly influences our habits. While it's important, you shouldn't let it hinder your growth.

Lesson 3: Stacking Habits: The concept of habit stacking involves adding a new behavior to an existing habit, which can help you build a more effective morning routine.

Lesson 4: Embrace the System: Rather than solely focusing on goals, it's important to love the process—the journey itself. It's about embracing the system that leads to progress.

Lesson 5: Something is Better Than Nothing: Even small efforts are valuable. The "Two-Minute Rule" encourages starting new habits that take less than two minutes.

Lesson 6: Overcoming Boredom: Staying motivated in habits requires keeping them interesting and within the right level of challenge. "The Goldilocks Rule" emphasizes that tasks on the edge of our abilities are most motivating. Habits won't always be exciting, and that's okay.

Lesson 7: Bouncing Back from Misses: Missing a habit occasionally is normal, but missing it twice can turn into a new habit. The key is to rebound quickly, maintaining the compound gains from previous good days.

Lesson 8: Shaping Your Potential: Our genes affect what we're good at and the chances we get. Instead of feeling stuck by genes, we should use our strengths. Special traits are like superpowers. Questions in the chapter help us find what we care about. Quotes remind us to focus on self-improvement, not comparing. Genes alone don't bring success; effort matters. Genes give hints, but we shape our success by using our strengths.

Lesson 9: Creating a Supportive Environment: Our surroundings are important. If we change our environment to match the habits we want, we're more likely to succeed. By setting up our space to help our habits, we can make good habits easier. People often limit themselves by thinking they can't do better. He also says that just luck doesn't explain success – hard work does. Whether it's moving stuff around or using visual reminders, these changes can really help us succeed in the long run.

Lesson 10: Creating or Breaking Habits: The Four Steps

These four steps are the foundation upon which many of his ideas are built. They are not only applicable to creating positive habits but also to breaking negative ones.

Cue: This is the trigger that initiates a behavior. It can be a specific time, location, emotional state, or preceding action that prompts your brain to start a habit.

Craving: Craving is the motivation or desire behind a habit. It's the feeling that drives you to engage in the behavior triggered by the cue. It's important to understand the underlying craving to effectively change a habit.

Response: Response refers to the actual behavior that you perform as a result of the cue and craving. This is the action that you take in response to the trigger and motivation.

Reward: Rewards are the positive outcomes or feelings that you associate with completing the habit. They reinforce the habit loop by making you more likely to repeat the behavior in the future.

He explains that these four steps form a habit loop, where each step is interconnected. The loop starts with a cue, followed by craving, which leads to a response, and ultimately ends with a reward. If any part of this loop isn't satisfying, the habit is less likely to stick.

Lesson 11: Success is a product of daily habits and overnight success is not overnight:

Success is not a result of overnight transformations but is instead rooted in the daily habits we cultivate. By recognizing the power of consistent, incremental actions, we can build a solid foundation for lasting success. This perspective challenges the allure of instant success and encourages us to focus on the journey of continuous improvement through daily habits.

[the-world-annealing]

The rise of AI has caused incredible damage to art, or: what ate up their brains and imagination?

(Surface Level, by me just now)

This used to be even longer, believe it or not. A bit more personal than I thought it was going to be and there's a few sections where I mostly talk about myself - the bored reader is invited to simply skip those.

I enjoy worldbuilding. I've written probably a small novel's worth of worldbuilding Tumblr posts by now (especially if we're including Dawn of Worlds, a collaborative worldbuilding RPG that I played in 2023 and 2024). Other creative hobbies of mine include writing one-page TTRPGs, or designing custom Magic: the Gathering cards, or designing fakemons, or fangames, or whatnot. None of this is good enough to sell, nor do I need it to be. I simply enjoy working on it.

As I understand it, 'art' is increasingly synonymous with 'creative expression', so I suppose I might be a capital-A Artist, but I don't really use that term for myself. 'Creative' feels more neutral, and more honest. 'Tinkerer' captures how it feels to me, having all these pieces and trying to crystallize them into an arrangement that makes sense. That's what I named myself after - the world annealing, see?

Back on topic: I might not call myself an artist (for visual arts specifically, the picture above is as good as it gets) but I think I share a lot of the key motivators. I enjoy creating. I enjoy displays of skill. I like making something that others can use and giving it to them for free. I want to make good, useful, or interesting things, and I want them to look nice. Most of all, I want to add my own ideas to the endless conversation that humans have been having since the dawn of time.

One of my favorite authors is Alexander Wales (whose tumblr you can find here), best known for giant-sized webnovels like the 1.6 million words Worth the Candle. In a post fittingly titled The AI Art Apocalypse, he writes:

["Art is a communicative act. It’s a conversation. You see a picture and it makes you feel a certain way, and yes, sometimes you silently process that art, but most of my favorite aspects of art as discussing it with other people, wrestling with the art in public, teasing out what it’s trying to do, or what it’s doing without trying. I generally think that this is one of the best parts of being an author or an artist, this very public back and forth."]

I agree with this completely.

-----------

That was as good a bridge as any, let's talk about AI now.

A lot of the points leveraged against AI art are kind of bad. Gaming for an hour on a decent consumer PC consumes about 0.5 kWh - generating a hundred images with stable diffusion takes 0.005 kWh (other models are less transparent due to their proprietary nature, but given that it's ultimately corporations paying the power bill I don't see why electricity costs would be needlessly higher). Arguments that focus on the training data being used without permission need to contend with the fact that fully licensed generators are a reality now.

But those arguments are also not why people are against AI art in the first place. That goes back to all the subjective, intangible values I brought up in my introduction - the desire to create something personal, or interesting, or new, or inspiring, or useful. The desire to have an audience, however small. The desire for individual expression, for something other than Extruded Corporate Media Product, forever. For art that speaks and invites response - for conversation.

-----------

Creation is compromise. As I said, my real interests lie in the directions of prose writing and game design. If I was also a skilled visual artist, I could create illustrations to accompany my stories and games and 180-card custom MtG sets, and this would almost certainly improve them.

But I'm not a skilled visual artist, and I don't have infinite free time, and even if I could draw real well I think I would prefer ten hours of writing over four hours of writing and six hours of illustrating it. Nor do I have the money that would make it realistic for me to commission a hundred and eighty digital paintings. So it goes.

-----------

In Dawn of Worlds, each player takes the role of a god and helps shape the development of a world. My character was Haebarik, god of travel, a lanky red-haired giant with skin the color of slate, born from a tree on the world's first island. Distraught at the emptiness of the early world, he tore off his right arm, and cast it over the horizon, and where it landed it became the first continent. I liked this beat - it felt very mythic, not like a sanded-off modern fantasy narrative.

This was my own creation, and I am proud of it, even though it's irrevocably tainted.

See. when the game started I decided that I was going to need some kind of visual reference of my character, for the benefit of the other players if not myself. I spent some time prompting and tweaking the then-new stable diffusion, and eventually got an image I found acceptable - except that, in the wonkiness typical of such models, it'd only drawn a single arm. But seeing it, I was struck by inspiration, and in the end it made my work better.

(and to reflect the myth, the continent I drew on the map was shaped like an arm, and that shape inevitably influenced the other player's actions, and after a while I created a species that like their god only had one arm, and all of this enriched the conversation we were having and the art we were creating - or did AI poison it all?)

-----------

As I mentioned, I'm in a lot of creative spaces that aren't for visual art per se but that are often adjacent to visual art. There's a lot of people there who've clearly put a lot of effort in their craft, whose work has genuine passion and genuine personality. And sometimes I see those people reach for AI art because they've decided that illustrations would improve their work, and then they get brigaded for it.

What are we even defending here? Not beauty (it doesn't have to look good, just don't use AI), not authenticity (it doesn't have to be yours, just don't use AI), not even individual vision (it doesn't have to look like you want to, just don't use AI). It's so depressingly negative - art not defined by the presence of a human, but the absence of a machine.

More charitably, I suppose these people are asking for 'effort' or 'personality', but by what standard does a 1-minute MS paint doodle count as effortful and personal, but not The Secret Origin of Wally ManMoth? Are we guarding individual expression, or forcing it into a straitjacket?

(TSOoWM of course also doubles of a beautiful example of how DALL-E's 'overcooked plastic' look is not inherent to AI - and how someone skilled at 90% of a creative process can use it to fill in the gaps)

-----------

I'm not afraid that AI will kill art - it can't do that; nothing can. But this post's title wasn't a lie: I really do think that something awful has happened. There's an ever-sharpening divide between the communities willing to experiment with this new tool and those vehemently against it, a divide that might actually be sustainable in this age of algorithmic feeds and walled gardens.

Art is a communicative act. We are seeing the emergence of a side that would not merely cut off communication with the other, but deny they are worth listening to - deny they could speak, definitionally. If people actually started to believe that, it would betray a greater failure of imagination than any glassy-eyed slop ever could.

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 14: Model Stirrer

Ah the modeling world, constantly shoving the prettiest, most handsome, most aesthetic people in our faces. But some of those models were not born that way, some had to be made.

In a series of valleys, no longer on any maps, is a series of modeling camps. For the most part, they seem normal: helping with health, modeling techniques, building connections, and all the shebang; but there is a secret program.

The program aims to reject nobody once they get in, but still wants its prospective models to actually try to get better. Thus the mix & match program.

The bottom 10% & top 10% are brought together & merged. For the cream of the crop, they assimilate members of the bottom 10% to improve "minor" things. There are also rumors that nepo babies who got to the top via connections are given total make overs via this program.

But more often than not, the bottom 10% are merged with each other. A mutual fusion.

Here is Yorden:

A part of the bottom 10%, he is was on the fitness model track.

Problem is that he could never put enough muscle on his frame. Many of the teachers disliked his beiber cut as well. Other than that, he performed well and every other measure. Had he had any connections, he could have gotten that make over that the top 10% gets.

Next is Elijah:

Same track as Yorden. Same problem exacerbated by his tall frame. A bit of a social butterfly, and that has made him a target. Some nepo baby wants his height and social skills for themselves.

The day before they were due to get assimilated by other model students, they hatched a plan.

"Will this plan really work," Elijah asked.

"It's either this, or we are someone else's lunch," Yorden responded.

Elijah pursed his lips for a moment, but silently agreed. Elijah found out that he & Yorden was due to get absorbed by Josh. Everyone hated Josh, he was a nepo baby who had the same bad marks as them in the physique areas, and even worse grades elsewhere except in runway & photo poses. Yet, he was on the top 10% in board rankings.

"I can't believe they want us to give ourselves to him to make him halfway good, all because his grandfather is on the board," Yorden said.

"Nah, we would catapult him to the 1%, give yourself some credit," Elijah chimed.

Yorden sniggered, he liked this about Elijah; a joker and is able to see the positive in many things. That position energy brought people towards him like a magnet, but even his connections couldn't save him. This large social network made him stick out like a sore thumb.

"Anyway, this has worked before, if we merge & are good enough, we can shave off getting eaten by Josh-turd, or we can fight him off tomorrow and absorb him instead, but we got to do it together," Yorden said.

Yorden was the ideas & plan guy. Every criticism, he turned into a basis for improvement. He decisiveness & work ethic is what led to him getting targeted.

The duo sneaked into a lab, the same lab where they were to meet their fates tomorrow.

It was a combination of blue, grey, & very dim. There were operating tables with other past students strapped on them in a state of sedation. They are shocked that isn't them right now, but the knowledge of their selection was not for them to know. Elijah's friend network was able to get that info to them.

But what they wanted was in the back of the lab. Three twenty foot cylinders that could pack four guys each. This is how they planned to merge. Each guy would stand in each side cylinder, and the process would merge them into singular new person who would come out the middle cylinder.

There was a problem, they needed a third person on the outside to activate the machine. So much for Yorden's plans. But where Yorden fails, Elijah succeeds.

Had Elijah chosen a more traditional path, he could be fielding acceptance letters from many engineering & computer science programs. That potential never left him.

"Get in one the cylinders, I know how to get around this," Elijah said.

He walks to a nearby computer console and begins typing away.

Yorden begins to walk to the cylinder furthest away from the console.

"How," he asked.

Elijah turns towards Yorden and smiled a big smile. Yorden remembered: Elijah was a tech wiz. He broke into the cafeteria system once and had the gluten free, sugar free sauce dispenser spray anyone who tried to use them.

Yorden smacked his forehead, he forgot about that quality of his soon to be other half. He was soon in the cylinder, within a few moments it closed shut. Josh was a shade of red for a month.

It was cool and surprisingly airy. Made sense, don't want the fusees dead from the lack of oxygen. It was like the rest of the lab and dimly lit. But in the middle was a pitch black circle. It gave off an energy that both drew you in & made you uncomfortable. Yorden quickly shook his head to get out of the trance.

"Hurry up before I get claustrophobic," he yelled.

Elijah was almost done. He had to change the settings, from assimilation to merge. He was tempted to assimilate Yorden, but he rather not just be another Josh and all the other top 10%'ers who devoured others for their personal advancement. A quick fifteen second delay for the activation, and he was ready.

He heard Yorden.

"Just a moment," he yelled. He pressed the activation button.

The fusion cylinder suddenly roared to life after the instructions were sent. This was Elijah's que to quickly get in the cylinder closest to him.

Elijah was soon inside the cylinder after a quick sprint. It closed behind him. Elijah was a little nervous, and that made him a little bouncy, but after exhaling a deep breath he calmed down.

The insides of the cylinders turned bright as the dim lights turned on, and made the insides look like an infinite white room with a pitch black circle in the middle. Yorden reached out and noticed that the infinity was an illusion, he could feel the cylinder walls after reaching out.

A large start up & then suction noise could be heard. A swirl of light could be seen forming inside the cylinders. It was barely noticeable at first, but soon turned in a spinning light show with Elijah & Yorden in the middle of each swirling rainbow light pillar. To get out of the delirium the spinning and random color changing induced, they both looked up at the pitch black hole at the ceiling. They noticed that the color show terminated there. The suction noise ramped up.

Soon they were both floating. They were approaching the black circle, coming closer. Eventually they reached the black circle and expected to bump their heads, but instead they notice they flowed into the circle with no resistance. From their perspective, they entered a pitch black tunnel and were flying through it with their clothes attached. From the outside their bodies were slowly floating up through the circle and were being swallowed by the dark entrance.

Soon they were gone, effectually in the pipes that connected the three cylinders. As they approached the center connection, low light random color shapes began to zoom past them. Eventually they were able to make out each other's shapes. They crashed against each other with a thud, but no pain was felt.

Then they began to move downwards in an accelerated rate & began to spin.

"This is it, it was nice knowing you," Elijah said.

"We are about to get to know a lot more about each other, everything in fact," Yorden piped.

Elijah closed his eyes, no turning back.

With what little space they had between each other, they nodded towards each other.

Their bodies glowed. Elijah red, Yorden blue. Their bodies of light swirled around each other and then mixed into one purple light.

The light that carried their merged being approached a tunnel of light. It entered the center cylinder and landed with a light thud.

The central cylinder suddenly let out a lot of steam & began to shake. The system was taking the different aspects of Elijah & Yorden and sending the result to this humanoid being of purple light.

It began to stand up. And began to groan as it did.

It gained Yorden's skin tone.

It began to breathe heavily.

It started off with Yorden's frame, but soon it doubled in muscle & grew taller. Shoulders, arms, legs, neck, & chest popped with new muscle.

It had Elijah's abs, but soon his his abdominals grew in size. It's skin restricted & squeezed giving it more defined obliques.

Both of the fusees were not well endowed, but together their family jewels and rods combined on the being to be longer and girther.

It's butt double in sized like blowing two balloons.

It kept Yorden's facial features as a base and then began to morph. It had Elijah's dark hair, jawline, nose, & eyebrows. It kept Yorden's eyes only a little bigger, and kept his ears & chin. The mouth was mix.

After a few more pops and gradual changes in other areas, the merger was done. The being stood fully up.

The purple light faded away & the central cylinder opened up. It stopped shaking and steam flowed out of the bottom of the cylinder.

It walked out and as it did, it thought of its new name.

"Zachary, I am Zachary," he exclaimed.

He looked down and noticed he was wearing a combination of his fusee's clothing. He had airpods in his ear, but messing around with them revealed that they were interfaced with the lab's security systems.

The Elijah part of him remembered the layout from the maps given to him via his social network, and bucked it to the nearest bathroom. He lifted up his shirt to check out the new him:

He was overjoyed.

And the gambit worked. The timeline shifted so that Zachary was never up for assimilation.

Here he is the morning before graduation:

He'll continue to model, but maybe he will pursue that tech potential that Elijah gave up.

[mya-valentine]

if you can write this may I request, (Cyno, Wanderer, Lyney/Diluc (you can pick which one, not sure You write these characters and I don't know your character limit)

That has a s/o who always wore hoodie baggy clothing, when their love deepen, s/o finally took off her hoodie, only to reveal that she has a HUGE BREAST. Like cup G. I wonder what's their reaction when she finally show off her curve infront of them, It's no wonder they always wore a hoodie because they have such a beautiful body like a model.

This is mostly crack request, and can be suggestive if you want lol

Headcannon: Cyno, Wanderer, Lyney, and Diluc With a S/O That Has Large Breasts

A/N: Now this, I think I can do😁 I actually have large breasts myself and have self image issues at times because of it, so this was rather nice to write. Also, there isn't a limit, but please be nice😅 I did all four btw, hope you enjoy

Cyno

Cyno is always perceptive, but the sight of you without your signature hoodie would still leave him speechless for a moment. He's used to seeing you in your usual baggy clothes, which is part of your charm to him. So, when you finally reveal your curves and your full figure, he would blink, trying to process the change. His eyes would widen slightly as he takes in your model-like physique, realizing just how much you'd hidden beneath those oversized hoodies.

Cyno isn’t one to overly react outwardly, but you’d catch the subtle changes—his gaze lingering longer than usual and the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “You’re full of surprises,” he’d say with a playful tone, appreciating not just your appearance but the trust you’ve shown by revealing this side of yourself.

He’d make sure you know that, to him, you’ve always been beautiful—whether in baggy clothes or without them—but now that he’s seen your full figure, he might tease you lightly. “No wonder you’re always in that hoodie. Were you hiding all of this from me on purpose?”

Though his teasing would be gentle, he’d still maintain that air of protectiveness and admiration, ensuring you know his feelings haven’t changed—they’ve only deepened.

Wanderer

Wanderer, with his typically aloof demeanor, would likely be taken off guard when you finally reveal yourself without your hoodie. He’s accustomed to seeing you in your comfortable, baggy clothing, which he finds endearing, but the moment you take it off, he would find it hard to maintain his usual composure.

His eyes would widen, and for a brief second, he might just stare, trying to process the change. The sight of your curves—especially if they’re as striking as cup G—would certainly catch him by surprise. He’d blink, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, a hint of admiration crossing his face. “You—” he would start, struggling for words, “You look... different.”

While his initial reaction might be one of shock, he would quickly recover, a smirk forming on his lips. “It’s no wonder you prefer baggy clothes. I suppose you were hiding quite the treasure,” he’d say, his voice laced with playful teasing.

Despite his teasing, he’d also want you to know that he finds you beautiful just as you are, hoodie or not. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to seeing you like this,” he’d say with a slightly softer tone, stepping closer to appreciate your beauty fully.

Wanderer’s affectionate nature would shine through as he reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re stunning, you know. You don’t need to hide.” His words would carry genuine admiration, deepening the connection you share as he encourages you to embrace your figure with confidence.

Lyney

Lyney is the kind of person who appreciates beauty in all its forms, and when you finally reveal yourself without your hoodie, he would be captivated. He’s used to seeing you in your baggy clothes, which have their own charm, but the moment you take off the hoodie, his playful demeanor might momentarily falter.

His eyes would widen as he takes in your stunning figure, and a wide grin would spread across his face. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he’d say, his tone teasing yet full of admiration. He’d lean in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief, and add, “I always knew there was more to you than met the eye.”

Lyney would likely make a show of pretending to fan himself, dramatically feigning a swoon. “You should’ve told me you were hiding such a masterpiece!” His playful nature would shine through, as he makes you feel confident about your body while still keeping the mood light.

He’d also appreciate the trust you’ve shown by revealing this side of yourself, and his affection would deepen even more. “You’re absolutely stunning, and I’m lucky to have you,” he’d say, pulling you in for a warm embrace, making it clear that he loves you for who you are, hoodie or no hoodie.

You’d leave him speechless, but in a good way—his heart would swell with admiration, and he’d likely be even more enchanted by your confidence in showing off your curves.

Diluc

Diluc is known for his stoic nature and deep sense of responsibility, but he has a soft spot for those he cares about, especially you. When you finally reveal yourself without your hoodie, he would be momentarily taken aback.

As you take off the hoodie and show off your stunning figure, including your impressive curves, Diluc’s expression would shift from surprise to a warm, appreciative gaze. He’d stare for a moment, his usually composed demeanor softening. “I didn’t realize you were hiding such beauty beneath those clothes,” he’d say, his voice low and sincere, conveying both admiration and affection.

His cheeks might flush slightly, betraying his typical calm, as he approaches you. “You’re breathtaking,” he would add, his tone more serious now, ensuring you know that he truly means it. He would step closer, gently taking your hands in his, and his gaze would linger, not just on your figure but also on your face, reflecting how deeply he cares for you.

Diluc would make sure to reassure you with his actions. “You don’t have to hide,” he’d say softly, wanting you to feel comfortable in your own skin. His protective instincts would kick in, and he might instinctively wrap an arm around you, pulling you close, as if to shield you from any outside judgment.

He would emphasize that he loves you for who you are, both inside and out, and he’d enjoy every moment of seeing this new side of you, encouraging your confidence and showing just how much he cherishes you.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy

Hii guyss, I hope you like this story!! Let me know if you want a part 2

You’ve been Carlos’s assistant for four years now, ever since he was at McLaren. From McLaren to Ferrari and now to Williams, you’ve stood by his side, handling every detail of his fast-paced life. And you love it—everything about it. The exhilarating races, the breathtaking cities, the people you've met along the way. Each experience feels like a chapter in a dream. But, for all the excitement, there’s one thing you can’t quite shake. One thing that makes your heart heavy, despite how much you enjoy your work.

You have to be with Carlos 24/7.

It’s not that you dislike him. The problem is you like him too much—more than you should, more than just an assistant would. You’ve had feelings for Carlos for as long as you can remember. It’s the way he smiles when he’s genuinely happy, the way he trusts you with everything, the way he’s kind to everyone around him. And yet, despite all your time together, Carlos has never noticed you in that way. Why would he, when his world is filled with models, glamorous women who turn heads wherever they go? He’s always with someone gorgeous on his arm, someone who seems to belong in his fast-paced, high-profile world.

Meanwhile, you're in the background, silently pining, your heart aching every time he looks at someone else with that spark in his eyes. You’ve tried to move on, but the truth is, you're hopelessly stuck. Carlos is everything you want but can never have—or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself.

Until that one night.

You’re out at a party with Carlos and Lando, who’s always been a good friend. Carlos, of course, is there with his girlfriend—another stunning model. The kind of woman who looks like she walked straight off a runway and into his life. You try to ignore it, focus on just having fun, but it's hard when your heart clenches every time they exchange a look. After a while, Carlos and his girlfriend disappear somewhere, leaving you with Lando. You’re both at the bar, drinking more than usual, and somehow the conversation shifts to relationships.

Lando, already a few drinks in, looks at you with a knowing smile. “So, are we gonna talk about the obvious elephant in the room?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, already dreading where this is going.

He chuckles, leaning closer. “You like Carlos. It’s so obvious.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your face burns. “What? No, I don’t—”

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’re not exactly subtle.” He takes another swig of his drink, grinning mischievously.

You stare at him, speechless. How could he have known? Have you really been that obvious?

Lando smirks, as if reading your thoughts. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

You let out a sigh, suddenly feeling the weight of it all. “It doesn’t matter. He’s always dating these perfect women. He doesn’t see me like that. He never will.”

Lando’s smile fades a little, and he gets this thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I like someone too,” he says, surprising you. “But she doesn’t even notice me. Doesn’t give me the time of day.”

Your curiosity piques, and you turn to him. “Really? Who?”

He just shakes his head, dodging the question. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is… I have an idea. A brilliant idea.”

You narrow your eyes, already sensing trouble. “What kind of idea?”

Lando’s grin returns, brighter than ever. “We should fake date.”

You blink. “What?”

“Think about it. Carlos sees you with me, suddenly you’re not just his assistant anymore—you’re someone who’s being noticed, someone he might want. And the girl I like? She’ll see me with you and maybe… I don’t know, get jealous or realize what she’s missing out on.”

Your mind spins as you try to process what he’s saying. “You want us to fake date… to make them jealous?”

“Exactly!” Lando says, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s a win-win. You get Carlos’s attention, I get mine.”

You hesitate, unsure. “Lando, this sounds crazy. What if it backfires? What if they don’t care?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Trust me, they’ll care. And if not, we’ll have a good time faking it, yeah? You and me, we’ll make them wish they had us.”

You bite your lip, conflicted. The idea sounds ridiculous—like something out of a bad rom-com. But then again… you’ve been stuck in this limbo with Carlos for so long. Maybe Lando’s right. Maybe this is your chance to shake things up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of overthinking, you sigh. “Okay… I’m in.”

Lando’s face lights up with excitement, and he clinks his glass against yours. “This is going to be epic.”

[sammyofold]

Here's the second part of the wincest fic rec list! The fics are grouped together under overarching tropes.

(Part 1 | Part 2)

Case Fics

The Truth In The Lie by flawedamythyst.

Summary: Sam and Dean pretend to be gay lovers while they hunt a monster on a bus tour of Nova Scotia.

Pine Sweat by Goshen.

Summary: Sam and Dean get sent back to 1996 and go on a hunt with their teenaged selves. The kids don't know who they are.

this narrow room where life began by peculiarstate.

Summary: Everything Dean is, even all these years later, is still for Sam, only ever Sam, it beats through his blood more real to him than his own heartbeat, Sam, Sam, Sam. The common fucking denominator of Dean’s entire life. or Four years later, Dean has Sam back. Some things have changed. The main thing hasn't.

venti cup of poison, half-caf, long shot by darlingargents.

Summary: A string of murders outside Seattle seem to be connected by coffee. Sam goes undercover as a barista to try and get to the bottom of it.

Mercy by LaughableLament.

Summary: Sam’s rattled, hunting a ghost light in the aftermath of Dean’s reunion with Cassie—a woman so important, Dean disobeyed Dad for her.

Walkin' the Tightrope by non_tiembo_mala.

Summary: It’s 2036, and twenty years since Sam and Dean called it quits on hunting to take up a secluded, quiet life. Maybe Jesse and Cesar gave them the idea, but after Amara, they realized they’d done enough. And they wanted a proper life together even more. Known as Sam Wesson and Dean Smith to the residents of the nearby town they call home, Sam and Dean keep mostly to themselves, their immaculately kept ‘67 Chevy Impala, and their cabin in the woods. That is, until someone from their past tracks them down, desperate for help. Sam and Dean can’t say no, not when it’s their dear friend Jody Mills in deep trouble – she’s missing – but the wedding bands they wear make going back to their old life just that little bit more complicated…

The Things We Carry With Us by lovesrain44.

Summary: Sam and Dean are on the road, saving people and hunting things, like they always do. Dean discovers that Sam is attempting to turn himself into a monk, and so he does his best to get Sam laid. Sam resists because, of course, who needs to have sex with a girl when Dean’s around? It's about going on a roadtrip with your brother. It's about the food you eat, and the maps you follow. It's about the things you carry with you. (Takes place some time after Heart.)

On the Cover of a Magazine by teashopmuses (LJ).

Summary: Sam and Dean are called in to investigate the mysterious death of a model at a photography studio in Michigan. The only way for them to get in? Pose as models themselves – which is much easier said than done.

When It Crackles by lyra_wing (LJ).

Summary: A cult is rumored to be guarding the Fountain of Youth. Oh, and while investigating it, Sam and Dean get roped into getting married. Yep.

Always You, without time or space by benitle (LJ).

Summary: Sam and Dean leave New Paltz, a haunted painting and Sarah behind them, each thinking in their own ways it'll be the last time they do anything like that. It isn't long before a string of unexplainable deaths takes them to The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Between frustration and brotherly fights, surviving more art than can be seen in a lifetime, a revenge killer and the mean city, their relationship is taken to a whole new level that neither of them had expected. But of course it's never that simple, because between all the emotional chaos, there's also a case to solve!

Swesson

A Case of Do or Die by RiverSongTam.

Summary: Former hunter Dean Smith and Men of Letters legacy Sam Wesson are working through the rigorous MOL initiation process as partners, an arrangement Dean isn’t too happy about at first. Both he and Sam worry about being paired with someone they’re so attracted to—and who’s obviously straight. As the boys work together, they become friends, both secretly fighting their feelings for the other despite days at the movies, hours of research, and nights at the Roadhouse spent in each other’s company. When Sam has a vision of Abaddon wiping out the Men of Letters on initiation night, the pair wind up fighting something even more terrifying. The Men of Letters aren’t going to die out on Sam and Dean’s watch—even if a misunderstanding about their feelings for each other happens along the way.

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here by Zanne.

Summary: Dean Smith and Sam Wesson want to hunt some more ghosts. They go to the experts for some hands-on training, but can they fight the strange attraction between them?

Who Are You? (I Really Wanna Know) by orphan_account.

Summary: Ever since Sam Wesson moved to Ohio, he’s found himself in an exceedingly terrifying series of battles against his own brain—and the attractive man he keeps bumping into with the strikingly green eyes is Sam’s only clue as to why. Meanwhile, Dean Smith’s next promotion is practically in the bag until he starts stumbling over a succession of worrisomely inappropriate outbursts. The cute, but creepy IT guy who keeps leering at him really isn’t helping things either.

When We Kiss Our Scars Align by matchsticks_p.

Summary: Meet Sam Wesson. Meet a ghost. Meet more ghosts. Meet each other's parents. This is not how Dean Smith had imagined his life would go.

More than the dirt it takes to bury them by gorgeousnerd.

Summary: Sam Wesson doesn't usually run off with strangers to fight what lurks in the dark. But then, Sam doesn't meet people he dreams about - people like Dean Smith - every day. It's not perfect, but he's making a difference and getting closer to Dean, so what's not to love? Except the dreams he still can't explain. And the way he's starting to sweat and shake and itch for something he can't name. Something like demon blood.

How Many Floors to Realize by lazy_daze.

Summary: AU from the end of It's A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren't somewhat entertaining, right?

Green Man by inalasahl.

Summary: Godstiel puts Sam and Dean back into the Sandover verse. It takes them some time to recover their memories.

Demon Dean

Welcome to Your Future by klove0511.

Summary: When Dean is suddenly pulled through time, he's confronted with a broken little brother a decade older than he should be. With Sam determined to send Dean back to his own time, will Dean be able to figure out where his present day counterpart is and fix things for Sam?

Come Close by AlulaSpeaks.

Summary: Dean may be a demon, but that doesn't mean he's stupid. In fact, he's just bursting with good ideas.

is there a word for bad miracles by withthekeyisking.

Summary: Dean comes back from Hell...different. But hey, it's not like Sam's the same as he used to be, either.

High Achiever by Agent_Hellcat.

Summary: Dean rescues Sam from Cole, his abductor. But does he have a hidden agenda?

Undeniable Dilemma by rosych33ks.

Summary: Dean stepped forward again, a strange kind of patience in the action, and Sam flattened himself back against the car, hands up, knife in the left just a useless afterthought at this point. “No, Dean, wait! You can— There’s something else we can do.” Dean sneered at him, but he just shifted his weight to his other hip, didn’t go for Sam again immediately, and that was something at least. “Oh yeah?” He said it like he was humoring him, probably thought he was letting Sam stall for his own amusement. “And what’s that?” Sam straightened a little, made himself look Dean right in the eyes, and most of all, did not let himself think. “You can fuck me.”

Ruin You by Mumble_Bee.

Summary: Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his.

(Note: Trigger warnings for graphic depictions of rape and torture. Here's another version the author wrote where Dean is human. Same warnings apply.)

Alternate Events & Fix-Its

Away to Darker Dreams by brokenlittleboy.

Summary: Finally hunting on his own, Dean makes a trip to Stanford to visit Sam, only to find his little brother's gone missing. And when he finally does stumble upon him in a dark twist of fate, Sam is not the boy he used to be.

B-Side by phoenixflight.

Summary: Sam Winchester is a senior at Stanford with his whole life in front of him when he dies in a tragic fire. He didn't know what to hope for from an afterlife, exactly, but whatever it was, it wasn't his brother Dean, arrived before him.

Truth or consequences by rivkat.

Summary: What if Agent Henriksen gave Dean truth serum? Disinhibition and dirty talk.

120 - forgiveness by ani_coolgirl.

Summary: Dean reassures Sam that he did the right thing by putting down Samuel. Due to past events, Sam has a hard time understanding Dean's attitude. Conversations are had and misunderstandings are finally cleared up.

Brother's Blood by diana_lucifera, stormageddon.

Summary: When Dean goes missing on a hunt in New Orleans, John picks Sam up from Stanford to help look for him. (Pilot AU)

Always My Guide by Delanach.

Summary: After Dean goes to hell, Sam turns to Ruby but using his powers for the first time after tasting her blood takes away his sight. Bobby takes him in but it's not until Dean is pulled out of hell that he faces up to having to learn to live with a new reality. As for Dean, helping Sam relearn everything from the ground up gives him something to focus on. When Sam insists on tagging along on a simple salt and burn and they encounter a demon, they realize that Sam still has his powers, they are stronger than before, and he can sense other supernatural beings in different ways. When they are faced with the possibility of Lucifer rising, they must work together with Bobby and an angel called Castiel to stop it happening.

This is Ourselves (Under Pressure) by clex_monkie89 (LJ).

Summary: After Nightshifter, Sam and Dean hit the road. What follows is three months of fear and frustration with the FBI hot on their heels, trying to avoid the long arm of the law while still continuing to work. It's not easy; being on the run doesn't leave much time for breathing, never mind sleep, sex or any much-needed downtime.

Extra Gen Fics

What You Choose To Do With It by StarsandJellyfish.

Summary: Sam and Dean have finally got to a good place in their relationship, after the fiasco that was the few years Dean had the Mark. Now, weird things are happening all the time, and Sam has no idea what is going on or why. Dean is acting strangely, like he knows something Sam doesn't. Sam is just looking for an explanation that makes sense. Or five times Sam used his powers without knowing it, and one time he knew it and worried what Dean would think.

Red in Tooth and Claw by LilacLetter.

Summary: It’s the summer before Sam’s senior year. The brothers are stuck in New Mexico where their dad left them to their own devices. Sam and Dean are bored stiff in the searing heat… until a case comes along. It can’t hurt to check out the mysterious desert creature alone, right? Case-fic, pre-series, h/c.

Time held me green and dying by anyplaceisbetter.

Summary: Sam wakes up aged 9 and with zero clue who the weird man in the bed next to his is. They deal.

The Bonds of Brotherhood by authoressjean.

Summary: In the wake of Lilith's death and the apparent destruction of their brotherhood, Dean and Sam find there's an even bigger revelation than Lucifer rising, because Lucifer isn't in his Cage. Lucifer and Michael both Fell a long time ago and became someone new. Became human.

With Heaven and Hell gunning for them, and new/old brothers fighting beside them, Dean and Sam have to navigate the world as the archangels they used to be and the brothers they're desperately trying to be again. Their bonds of brotherhood aren't easily torn apart, though, and something their enemies would be wise to realize.

Customs of the County by TheMarvelousTolkienJob.

Summary: All Sam wanted was to be normal. Go to school. Make friends. Spend quality time with his family. Only, the universe seemed to be conspiring against him and even these simple experience were turning out to be anything but that. Instead, he gets a rigged school system, an absent father, and an upset brother.

A New Beginning by MonPetitTresor.

Summary: After Chuck and Amara make up, they reveal their new plans - and they're nothing like what anyone had expected.

For Your Own Good 'verse by mentholpixie.

Summary: “Don't worry, Dean. I'll be a good little soldier and do everything Dad says. Promise.” Sam doesn't know how right he is.

On Our Own by authoressnebula.

Summary: When Sam is fifteen, his dad makes a decision based on a dark future he was apparently shown by an 'angel': split his sons up and abandon his youngest to keep that future at bay. Dean refuses to let it happen, but if they want to stay together, there's only one option: run.