#classification yard

[nauticaltrain]

They are like angelic sigils to me

[patchworkcuddlebug]

A Parasite

Norae was always... resistant to having a doll. Her covenmates tell her about theirs like they're little slave-things, always wandering around your house and doing things you should be doing on your own. It's creepy, and (she would never say this out loud) enabling laziness.

But as her power grows, so does her manor. She begins noticing hallways stretching out longer than they once did, with protrusions shaped like doorknobs emerging from the walls. There's already a set of stairs leading uselessly into the ceiling, no doubt where the second story will begin to grow.

The effort she put into keeping things in order used to be paltry for a witch as powerful as her, but she's starting to get annoyed by the distractions. She is growing tired of pruning new furniture like weeds.

She knows nothing of clockwork, and she never developed her skills in magical dollcraft for obvious reasons. But she will sometimes catch sight of a stray, trying to find purpose in picking the wild berries just beyond her yard. She wonders if she'll be helpful enough, before quietly correcting herself and wondering if it will be helpful enough.

She told her coven how she was thinking about leaving a sort of trap for it, a cup of tea under a cardboard box held up with a stick, only half serious. Regardless, they told her that dolls are much more trusting and docile than she was assuming, and that she simply needed to approach and talk to it.

She waited with a book, just on the edges of her property. The wide brim of her hat helped block the glare of the sun as she'd occasionally look off through the trees. Soon, it came walking past her unceremoniously, seeming as if it's trying to ignore her. It's walking to the bush. There's already a few ripe berries piled neatly in its hand.

It was made with porcelain, with a more tattered version of the maid dress they all seem to wear, walking with just as much rigidity and poise. But this is the first doll she's seen with a wind-up key. It slowly turned just a few degrees for every moment that passed. She could see a little rope tied to one of the sides, presumably so that one could wind it on her own.

"Excuse me? ...Doll?" Just as she starts speaking, it perks up, looking ready to leap into action. "Y... yes, Miss?" Its voice is timid, but eager.

"Would you like to, uh..." She hesitates for a moment, feeling ridiculous. This is the first time she's had to say something like this out loud. "Belong to me? I have tea."

It gasps. "Yes! Oh, yes, thank you Miss!" She runs up to the witch as if to give her a hug, only to skitter to a last-second stop just in front of her and give a polite bow, with proper curtsy.

"Right. Um, follow me, then." She closes her book and begins walking back to her door, her movements awkward as the doll followed close behind. She can't stop looking back at it, at its bizarrely serene face and excited steps. "So, do you have a name?"

"This one's old witch called it Lullaby, Miss!" It seems so happy to say.

"That's... still your name then, I think."

"Yay! Thank you Miss!"

. . . . .

Colloquially, the word "doll" is often used to describe any construct that obeys a witch, with considerable variation thereupon. Perhaps the most infamous among these variants in classification is the combat doll. These ones can often be identified by their more metallic exterior, such that they can easily be confused for androids at first glance, but there also exists combat dolls that

"Excuse this one, Miss?" the thing knocks at the door to the witch's study. It lingers in the doorway, not wanting to intrude further.

Norae tries to stifle a sigh of annoyance as she turns away from her book. "Yes, Lullaby?" She just noticed that her its hair just a little dishevelled from working, but it's not nearly as matted and gnarled as it was earlier today. She's glad it looks so much more... healthy.

"This one has finished sweeping the first floor, Miss!" The doll smiled, clearly proud of herself. The witch is caught in her own head for only a moment, ruminating on owning someone... something so close to a human. "What would you like it to do next?"

"You..." it takes her a moment to stifle her shock. She's read enough to know that such a task is to be expected from dolls, but it still seemed to work so hard so fast. "Then you've completed your chores. Treat yourself to some tea." She tells it matter-of-factly and turns back to her book, trying to match the professionalism of her literature.

"But, Miss!" The doll says. Norae turns back, and sees the doll has a very human, very concerned look. "This one has barely worked today! Would you like it to scrub the floors as well? Or organize your bookshelf? It can cook for you, Miss!"

"Hey, calm down, it's alright." The doll's owner tries to sound reassuring, as one would to a friend. "I don't know how your last witch did it, but I don't want to overwork you. Do you like to read? I have a library."

The doll tried to swallow its apprehensive look. "This one will read for you, Miss." It nods dutifully and runs along.

That... went well, she thinks. She understands that dolls are... eager, to a certain degree, but she's sincere about not wanting to exhaust the poor girl thing. She also thinks about her own autonomy, and how listless she'd feel if left without her own chores.

. . . . .

Norae lets out a bored sigh as she watched the vegetables sizzle in their pan. She tries to stir them around, spreading them evenly in the oil, but it's more to entertain herself than to properly cook.

She hears Lullaby quickly, yet still with a polite reservation, hurry up the stairs.

"Miss!" It calls out, drowning out its footsteps before it turns the corner. As it emerges into the kitchen, it looks... mortified. "It's so sorry, let this one, good dolls should-"

"Lullaby, it's okay!" She holds the frying pan up, higher than the doll can reach. "You don't have to do everything for me just because you're a doll."

"But, Miss, this one wants to!" It looks desperate and pleading. "Please, Miss, you've been so nice, and this-"

"Hey, calm down, there's no need for that." Norae tries to sound reassuring. She sets the pan down and turns to give Lullaby her full attention, kneeling to match her its eye level and placing a hand on its shoulder. "I know you want to help, but I enjoy being able to take care of myself, too. You already do plenty, and you should be proud of that."

The doll trembles, only as much as its docility will allow. "Yes Miss, Thank you Miss." After a quick bow, it gets out of Miss's way, leaving her to return to her monotonous stove-watching.

Lullaby takes a seat on Miss's couch. eyes forward and hands on its lap. It's so comfortable, the soft cushioning much more enveloping that the stumps it was used to sitting on. It tries to find a place to rest its eyes. On Miss's roaring fire, magically permeating a tender warmth through the room? On the door to the maid's quarters, where Miss had cleaned it and told it all it had to know? On Miss's beautiful and intricate grandfather clock, which it is letting collect a thin layer of dust?

It shouldn't cry. Miss is being nice, after all.

. . . . .

The doll shakes itself from a stupor. It wasn't still; there was no comfort in its emptiness, just effortful restraint fading into a half-present miasma.

Norae gestures for it to face away, gently guiding its shoulders to face where she sat on the couch. "Lean forward, please."

"It's okay, Miss." The doll sounded groggy, words tumbling heavily out of its mouth. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

The witch leaned to the side, showing the sympathetic look she had on her face. "Why wouldn't I wind you up? It's no trouble at all, and... I can't just let you pass out."

Lullaby slowly, heavily, shook its head. It wanted to be polite, to word itself delicately and reserve itself, but its clockwork was moving too slowly to stop it before it spoke. "No, please. It's a bother. This one doesn't do enough, it's not worth it."

Miss places a hand on its shoulder. "Oh, Lullaby, no, that's not true at all. You do just as much as you need to."

"It's not enough." The doll rested its elbows on its knees, leaning forward and cupping its face in its hands. "Miss is so nice, and this one just... takes it all in without giving enough back. It feels so useless, and pathetic, and... i-it just wants to be helpful." Its voice falters just at the end, hitching into a repressed sob.

Norae felt a pang in her heart that deepened with every word. Of course, she's been such an idiot. She feels like a bum when she doesn't keep herself busy, how would a being purpose-made to be helpful feel? It finally dawns on her, what the extent of a doll's inhumanity means.

"I'm so sorry, I... had no idea you felt that way." There's a sincere sorrow in her voice, the doll hearing Miss's confidence drop for the first time. "I never meant to hurt you, I just didn't want to be too hard on you."

She placed a hand on her doll's back, careful to leave room for its key to turn. "From now on, you get to do whatever you like. Cooking, cleaning, anything. I might still make you take some breaks so I can do something myself, but I'll never leave you with nothing to do."

Lullaby slowly, hopefully, lifts its head to look at Miss. "This one doesn't want to make you do anything you don't want, Miss, it can-"

"Lullaby, if you do everything you can to never feel like this again, you'll make me the happiest witch in the world." She put on a reassuring smile.

Norae didn't have time to see the grin widening on her doll's face before it latched on for a hug. All it could say was thank you as its tears left wet marks on the witch's dress.

"I'm just happy that you're happy." Miss hugged back, making the doll feel more loved than it could remember. "Now let's get you wound up, you've got some dishes to do."

[teapartyprincess4two]

Unplanned- C. Sturniolo

pairing: TeenMom!reader x TeenDad!Chris

classification: fluff, high school sweethearts

warnings: teen pregnancy, suggestive content but no smut, unplanned pregnancy, unexpected child, mentions of unprotected sex but no smut, mention of throwing up & nausea, some cursing, use of y/n, long

summary: Becoming a teen mom was never in your plans, but you and Chris had to learn to make the best of it.

—

Yours and Chris’s love story was long and intricate, full of details and secrets only you two would understand. It started from an early age and only progressed as you two grew older.

You met Chris when you were just kids. The two of you were attached at the hip, always wanting to do everything together. You’d ride your bikes around the neighborhood and stay up all night playing video games. If you weren’t there, Chris wasn’t interested. If Chris didn’t do it, neither did you. You were best friends from the very beginning.

When you entered middle school, the two of you became even more inseparable. You went through an awkward stage of your lives together that included acne, growth spurts, and puberty. Middle school is a brutal time for any child, but you and Chris got through it together. Bullies and mean girls lurked in every classroom, but as long as you had Chris it was okay. You were ready to defend him if necessary and he was ready to do the same.

Eventually you entered high school and the two of you matured into young adults. Around this time all your friends began dating, but you were too attached to Chris for any boys to ask you out. Towards the end of your freshman year you realized that what you felt for Chris went beyond friendship. Those feelings only grew stronger as the school year progressed, but you were too young to understand them, so you suppressed them as much as possible.

Some time during the summer between freshman and sophomore year, Chris realized he felt the same about you. Chris confided in his brothers about his newfound crush for you and whenever you’d come around they’d tease him relentlessly about it. It never became awkward between you, though, instead you grew the courage to confess your feelings to Chris. And, to your surprise, he admitted he felt the same.

The two of you spent that summer exploring this new relationship and became even more bonded than you already were. You entered sophomore year as a couple and dated all throughout high school, falling more in love with each passing day. You shared so many firsts with Chris; your first date, your first kiss, and your first time. Everything was special because you were sharing it with Chris, he was your soulmate. Your relationship was beautiful, it was perfect.

Senior year rolled around quicker than expected, and before you knew it, it was prom night. Chris organized an elaborate promposal for you in the middle of the school’s court yard, complete with a banner, a bouquet of roses, and confetti. Everything about that moment was perfect, earning adoring looks from every other student who watched you grow as a couple over the years.

Prom night was a solidifying moment in your relationship with Chris because as it was the first time you had sex without a condom. It felt like the perfect night to completely give yourself to one another, and if you were careful, there wouldn’t be any consequences. After this night, the two of you grew stronger in your relationship. Nothing was able to break you apart even though so many people tried. If it wasn’t a mean girl it was a jock who tried catching one of your attention, but it never worked. You and Chris were locked in, you were fully committed and in it for the long haul.

After prom the only high school milestone left to complete was graduation. Although your younger years were flying by in a whirl, you were excited to enter a new chapter with Chris. The two of you had so many dreams and plans for your future together. You spent countless nights discussing it all, but you were both so naive then. Chris would gush about the luxuries he’d provide for you as adults including a house with a pool, too many cars, and anything else you wanted.

You two were about to learn the harsh reality of life the hard way.

—

It’s graduation day and you’re buzzing with excitement and nerves, this really was the end of an era for you. “You ready?” Chris asks, a huge smile plastered on his face. He couldn’t wait to graduate and start a new chapter with you that didn’t include homework and tardy bells. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply as you adjust your cap and gown. You felt extremely nauseous, but you chalked it up to nerves. You were about to cross the stage and officially enter adulthood, who wouldn’t be nervous?

Chris gives you a quick peck before grabbing your hand and leading you into the school auditorium. You take a deep breath in attempt to calm your nerves, it’s just graduation you’ll be fine. As the ceremony progresses you can’t help but feel even worse, but you try your best to ignore it so you can cross the stage and get this over with.

When you finally cross the stage you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from throwing up, you don’t even make it back to your seat, instead running off to the bathroom with your diploma. Chris watches from his seat in confusion and worry, where were you going? He silently excuses himself and follows behind you, trying to keep up with you as you run down the halls. You barge into the bathroom, rushing into the first available stall and hunching over the toilet, immediately spewing out this mornings breakfast.

When there’s nothing else for you to throw up, you slump down onto the dirty bathroom floor and rest again the cold tile walls of the stall. You feel exhausted, a looming headache growing from the pressure caused by vomiting. Either something was seriously wrong or you ate something yesterday that didn’t sit well with you, but you knew this was NOT just nerves. You’ve never been this nervous before, it was just graduation it’s not like you had to present an award or recite a speech.

“Y/n?” Chris asks cautiously from outside the restroom, he opens the door slightly to see if you’re even in there. “In here,” you respond quietly, pushing yourself off the floor and to the sink. He walks in timidly, not sure if there was anyone else in here with you, but when he realizes it’s just you he immediately asks what’s wrong.

“I’m fine, just a little anxious,” you lie.

Chris squints his eyes at you as he watches you wash your hands feverishly and rinse out your mouth. He knew you were lying, but he wasn’t going to press it. “Well the ceremony is over. We were going to go eat, but I can ask Matt to take us home?” he’s rubbing your back lovingly, he knows something’s wrong but you don’t want to tell him. You smile at him through the mirror, drying your hands quickly so you can get out of this restroom as soon as possible.

“Yes please,” you reply quietly, grabbing your diploma and adjusting your cap. You do a once over in the mirror, trying to ensure that there’s nothing gross left over on your gown.

Once you’re sure you’re fine, you and Chris walk back out into the auditorium to find Matt and Nick.

—

Summer is the best time of all, especially now that your fun won’t be cut short once August rolls around and school starts up again. This felt like an endless summer and you were ready to spend every second of it with your boyfriend.

It was the second week of June and you were out swimming with Chris, his brothers, and a couple of your friends. Well they were swimming, you were sitting in a lawn chair by the pool, too tired to swim.

You’ve been feeling tired and sick ever since graduation, but you didn’t tell anyone because deep down you know it’s something serious. You’ve noticed how tired you look, your small but sudden weight gain, and your consistent morning sickness. All the symptoms pointed to one thing: pregnancy. But you suppressed the thought out of your head and tried your best to enjoy the summer.

“Babe, come in!” Chris calls out to you as he flails his arms around in the water, splashing some of it on you in the process. “I will in a bit. I’m trying to tan,” you reply, hoping he’ll believe your lie and go back to your friends. He can see right through you, though, so of course he doesn’t believe you. Chris hoists himself up from the water by the edge of the pool, jogging towards you as water drips off of him.

“What’s wrong? You love swimming,” he comments as soon as he’s close enough to you, taking a seat at the foot of the lawn chair. A sudden whiff of chlorine water and sunscreen from Chris hits you, causing you to instantly become nauseous, but you hold it back as you reply, “I’m fine, babe. I’m just a little tired.” He hums in response, allowing his wet hands to wander on your bare skin.

His hands begin rubbing along your thighs, “You look so sexy, babe.” You chuckle a little at this, pushing his hands off you playfully before replying, “Don’t be weird. We’re in public.” A goofy smile adorns his face as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips, his hands traveling dangerously close to the strings of your bikini. “I’m not being weird, I just love my girlfriend,” his voice is sultry as he attempts to seduce you, kissing you again.

“Let’s go to the restroom.”

Another whiff of chlorine water and sunscreen hits you, and this time you can’t hold back the gag. You cover your mouth immediately, standing abruptly from the lawn chair and rushing to the restroom. Chris watches in confusion, wondering what the hell he did to warrant that response as he follows behind you. You’re once again hunched over a toilet in a dirty stall throwing up everything in your stomach.

“What the fuck? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” a million questions come from Chris as he crouches next to you and holds your hair out of your face. This is the second time you’ve suddenly gotten sick out of nowhere, except this time he’s going to make sure you tell him what’s wrong whether you like it or not.

At this point you’re tired, nauseous, embarrassed, and you have a headache; you can’t help but start crying. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Chris assures you, hugging you close and rubbing circles into your back. He was always good at consoling you, but today you were so distressed that the tears just kept flowing.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? You can tell me.”

The thing is that you didn’t know what was wrong, you only had suspicions, and those suspicions were too scary to admit out loud. “I don’t know,” you reply through sobs, shaking your head at the idea of possibly being pregnant. Chris can tell that whatever this is, it’s serious, but he doesn’t know how to navigate this situation yet. All he can do is help you clean up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers lovingly as he presses a kiss to your forehead and guides you towards the sink.

—

When you’ve finally calmed down you tell Chris the truth of what you think is going on. He’s taken aback, there’s no way you’re pregnant, right? You two were always safe, always concious of the consequences that come from being unprotected.

“Are you sure? We’re always safe. We’ve never had a scare before,” he tries to reason, thinking of every time the two have had sex in the last month or two. He’s almost 100% sure you weren’t pregnant.

“Prom,” you whisper, looking down at the floor as you hold back your tears. If you were pregnant you wouldn’t know what to do. You and Chris were only 18, still really young to be having a baby. There were so many dreams and plans you had, both as individuals and as a couple, that you’d never be able to do with a baby. How were you going to navigate your relationship if you took a test and it came back positive? You weren’t ready to be a mom. What was Chris going to do? He was fresh out of high school, he was even less ready to be a dad.

The realization hits him as he remembers prom night. “Holy fuck,” he replies with wide eyes, the situation suddenly becoming too real. “Have you taken a test?” he’s holding you gently by your elbows, searching your eyes for something. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, maybe reassurance that you two will be okay if this is real, but he’s trying not to panic. “Not yet,” your reply is a small glimpse of hope that maybe this is just a scare.

You and Chris dismiss yourself from your friends, dragging Nick and Matt along with you as you make your way to the nearest drug store. You had to find out immediately whether or not this suspicion was true.

Chris instructed Matt and Nick to wait in the car as you made your way into the drug store, they were confused out of their minds as to what was going on, but complied. You searched the aisles feverishly and purchased two pregnancy tests for safe measure.

Before you go into the restroom, Chris stops you and pulls you into a hug, “No matter what happens, it’s gonna be okay.” Even though you’re still scared, the comment warms your heart.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He kisses your forehead again before letting you go into the restroom. This moment was going to determine your future, and he wanted you to know that he was with you no matter what.

After what seemed like forever, you finally come back out of the restroom with both pregnancy tests in hand. “So?” Chris asks expectantly, chewing on his finger nails nervously. “I haven’t checked yet. I’m scared, Chris,” you reply, looking down at the pregnancy tests that are face down in your hands. “Let’s look together,” he takes one test from you.

You take a second to collect your thoughts before meeting Chris’s gaze, both of you flipping the test at the same time, but still not looking down. “I’m scared,” you say again, the nerves causing an unsettling feeling to loom over you. Chris is scared too, too scared to face the truth, so he lets you bite the bullet.

You break your gaze from his, looking down at the pregnancy test in your hand. Your stomach drops, a shocked gasp escaping your lips. This can’t be a good sign, so Chris immediately follows suit and looks at the pregnancy tests.

“Holy fuck,” he says. You were pregnant.

Matt and Nick are impatiently waiting in the car. They watch as you and Chris walk towards the car with unreadable expressions on your face, looking pale as ever. “What the fuck took so long?” Nick complains as soon as you two enter the vehicle. You sit there in silence, looking forward and dissociating completely.

“Y/n’s pregnant,” Chris says, still in shock.

Matt and Nick face you in their seats with their mouths agape, “Holy fuck.”

—

The next couple of months were hard. You and Chris had to suck it up and tell your parents, none of them were happy, but they can’t say they didn’t see it coming. You were forced to grow up as you and Chris began preparing to become parents, but you always made the best of it.

You swelled up very quickly, your protruding belly a constant reminder of the baby you and Chris were bringing into the world. Neither of you were ready for a baby, but you learned to come to terms with it over the span of your pregnancy. Chris was now actually very excited to become a dad, of course he was scared, but he was happy to be doing this with you. There was no one else he’d rather have as the mother of his children but you.

“This is perfect for the baby,” Nick comments as he holds up a cute floral onesie. You were currently shopping for simple baby necessities with Chris, Matt, and Nick. The gender of the baby was still unknown, but Nick was secretly hoping for a niece. “We’re just here for the necessities, Nick. Stuff like strollers, a hamper, maybe a cute diaper bag… Plus, we don’t even know the gender of the baby yet,” you reply with an eye roll as you waddle through the aisles.

“Okay? It’s still perfect for the baby,” he sasses as he throws the onesie into the shopping cart without another word. You ignore him, waddling into another section in search of the perfect stroller.

Chris and Matt, who had wandered off long ago, enter the same section. They were holding a plethora of baby clothes and all of them were decorated with dinosaurs, tractors, sports references, and anything else boy related. “Baby, look! For the baby!” Chris exclaims excitedly as he shows you all the cute clothes he and Matt just picked out. Chris had a hunch that you were having a boy and Matt was hoping for a nephew.

“This one says ‘Me + Mommy = One Broke Daddy,’ “ Matt laughs as he shows you a onesie he found with a stupid quote on it, he was a sucker for stupid quotes. “Get that out of the cart, my niece will wear none of that!” Nick protests as he swats Chris and Matt away. “Niece?! My NEPHEW is gonna love these,” Matt replies, dumping all the clothes into the cart dramatically.

Meanwhile, Chris is checking up on you, rubbing your stomach and kissing all over your face. “How you feeling, mama?” He started calling you mama about a month ago and the nickname was definitely suiting now. “My feet hurt,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist. You were so grateful for him, he truly hasn’t left your side ever since you found out you were pregnant.

“Can you guys stop? She’s already pregnant,” Nick comments with a dramatic eye roll. “Agreed. What are y��all tryna do? Make twins?” Matt joins in on the teasing, loving how uncomfortable you become every time.

“Nah, triplets,” Chris replies jokingly with a chuckle, seemingly unbothered. Your face is red hot in embarrassment.

—

The ultrasound tech lathers your stomach in cold gel as she prepares you for your ultrasound. Today you were going to find out the gender of your baby. Chris insisted on accompanying you of course, he’s eager to find out whether he’s having a son or a daughter. You’re excited to find out, but all you truly want is for your baby to be healthy. Deep down you’re secretly hoping for a girl, though. The idea of dressing your baby up in cute clothes, adorning her hair with bows and painting the nursery pink was exciting.

“You guys ready?” the ultrasound tech asks, as she hovers the transducer of your stomach. Chris squeezes your hand reassuringly. “We’re ready,” you reply, squeezing his hand back.

Chris can’t stop smiling throughout the entire appointment, he loves being able to see his baby on the screen. “There’s Baby’s heartbeat,” the tech says as the room is filled with the rhythmic beat of your baby’s heartbeat. You were happy to find out that your baby had a strong, steady heart beat and was completely healthy. You smile at the news and squeeze Chris’s hand again.

“Okay. Are you ready to find out if Baby is a boy or a girl?” the tech massages the transducer into your stomach as she verifies the babies gender. “Yes, please,” Chris replies eagerly, he can’t wait.

“Looks like you’re having a… boy.” She says it casually, but it’s enough to cause Chris to engulf you in a hug. He’s so happy, even if it was a girl he’d be happy, but this is honestly the best news ever. “I love you so much,” he says, his hands squishing your cheeks together her as he kisses you. “I love you too,” you reply with a chuckle, equally as excited as him.

“And I love you,” he whispers to your stomach as he talks to your son, planting a gentle kiss on it.

—

Once you hit the 9 month mark you couldn’t wait to give birth. Your feet always hurt, your back was worse, and you were so big you needed help to get up. You were tired of carrying around your son’s weight so you were actively trying to induce your labor. Some days you’d bounce on a bouncy ball. Other days you’d just pace around your room. All you knew was that this baby needed to get out of you immediately.

“You hungry, mama?” Chris asks, from beside you on the couch. The two of you were currently watching your favorite movie, it always made you cry, even before your pregnancy. You were always hungry nowadays, so that was a stupid question on his part. You send him a small glare which answers his question perfectly. He laughs slightly before asking what you’re in the mood for. Truthfully, you were in the mood for any and everything, that’s how hungry being pregnant made you.

Chris had compiled a mental list of every weird pregnancy craving you had throughout your pregnancy, so he decided to get the one that seemed to become your favorite; pineapple pizza. He ordered the pizza for you before returning to the movie on screen, listening to your sniffles. You always managed to cry at the exact same part of the movie, and ever since becoming pregnant your emotions only intensified.

The pizza arrived 30 minutes later, the savory aroma instantly causing your mouth to water. You would never eat this if you weren’t pregnant, but the cravings were so insatiable at this point that you’d eat it no matter how weird it looked or sounded. “This pizza is actually what made me pregnant,” you moan, taking a big bite of your first slice. Chris laughs, picking the pineapples off and doing the same. He loves you and your son so much that he’s willing to eat pineapple pizza.

After a while you become tired again and head to your room to sleep, but on your way there you feel a sharp pain shoot through your abdomen. You hold onto the wall for support as your breath quickens, you try and steady yourself. It’s just a small contraction, you’ve been having these all week, you’ll be fine. When you think you’re fine, you let go of the wall and begin walking to your room again, but are met with another, much stronger contraction.

This felt like the real thing, the baby was definitely coming. “Chris!” you call out, another contraction shooting through your body. You’re breathing heavily now, trying to focus on fully exhaling and inhaling. “Chris!” you exclaim louder this time, walking back into the living room slowly. He didn’t hear you the first time, but this time he’s jumping over the couch and running towards you urgently.

“Baby’s coming,” you breath out, yelping out in pain as you hold onto him for support. As if on cue, your water breaks. “Holy fuck. Holy fuck,” he says, looking down at the puddle of water on the floor. Chris guides you to the front door, leading you to the car. Once you’re in the car he runs back into the house for your hospital bag. He manages to grab your phones and the car keys on the way out, haphazardly locking the front door before rushing into the drivers seat.

Chris had no idea how to drive, but he was about to become a dad and there was no time to call Matt for a ride right now. “Chris, hurry!” You whimper, the pain becoming too much too fast. “I’m going baby, I’m going,” he reassures, holding your hand as he begins driving to the hospital.

On the way there he calls his brothers, his parents, and your parents to inform them that you’re in labor. Everyone is so excited and they begin asking too many question, but Chris hangs up on them after telling them which hospital you’d be at. He doesn’t have time for all that right now, he’s trying to juggle your pain, driving a car for the first time, and the anxiety he’s feeling about becoming a dad.

“Almost there, baby. You’re doing so good,” he says lovingly, rubbing your stomach as he keeps his eyes on the road. He’s speeding down the high way, somehow managing to expertly weave his way through traffic. The car is filled with your groans and heavy breathing, you could practically feel the baby crowning.

When you arrive to the hospital the staff immediately rushes you into the delivery room, preparing Chris quickly so he can join you. This was such a crazy, chaotic, beautiful moment for you two. Chris is scared, excited, nervous, anxious, everything.

The doctors are instructing you to push, the sweat gathering on your forehead as you use all your strength to push this baby out. Your hand is squeezing onto Chris’s so hard he’s sure his fingers are broken, but it can’t be anything compared to what you’re feeling. He’s coaching you through the entire thing, encouraging and reassuring you that you’re doing good. Although you want to tell him to shut up, you wouldn’t be able to do any of this on your own, so you focus your attention on your breathing and pushing your baby out.

“One last push.”

You use all the energy left in your body to push one last time, your baby finally being born. Your son’s wails fill the room, causing a wave of relief to wash over you. “You did so good, mama,” Chris whispers, kissing your forehead lovingly. He’s never been more in love with you than in this moment.

The doctor smiles as she places the baby in your arms. A motherly instincts immediately overtakes you and all you want to do is protect your son for the remainder of your life. Nothing matters but him, Chris, and the little family you just became. The baby is calm now, your heartbeat soothing him as soon as he’s in your arms.

“He’s so beautiful,” you whisper, as you and Chris admire him in awe. He was perfect. “He looks like you,” you comment again, taking in every detail of your child. Chris wants to frame this moment of his new little family forever. Despite just having given birth, you look beautiful.

“I love you,” Chris says, kissing you for the first time as actual parents. “I love you,” you reply, looking back down at your son. This was an unplanned, beautiful moment that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: working on some requests 😋 enjoy honey bunches

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[viewofagarden]

[Paraview AU] PVS-05 (Vee)

Suprised she's not a robot? (Well, aside from aesthetically?), yeah. But I was inspired to make her a ghost off of Sadako Yamamura and that one Rotom in the Old Chateau so...

Full Name: Vee [Last Name Unknown] ID #: PVS-05 Gender: Female (She/Her) Relatives: None Classification: Undead Species: Poltergeist Assigned Researcher: Veronica Hurley Preferred Food: None (Does not eat)

Discovery

PVS-05 was discovered by an anonymous individual who had encountered the entity. The individual had bought the TV that PVS-05 resides in from a yard sale and brought it home. On the night it had been brought home, the TV started playing green static on its own, despite having been turned off. The individual then heard an ominous voice saying “Look at Me” before the entity crawled out of the television, frightening the individual.

Thankfully, the individual was not harmed by PVS-05, as the subject seemingly only wanted the individual's attention. PVS-05 and the TV she resides in was then handed over to Paraview investigators after making a phone report to the Paraview Foundation. 

Upon questioning, the seller of the TV had no knowledge of its haunted status. 

Noted Behavior and Abilities

- PVS-05 appears to be a special kind of poltergeist, one that prefers to inhabit a specific object instead of a randomly selected one. Specifically preferring the old television she was found in. A couple instances and tests however, prove that PVS-05 is capable of possessing different objects, most notably, pieces of technology.

-PVS-05’s head is composed of a TV screen instead of a human head like most ghosts. Perhaps indicating the method that the subject previously passed away.

-Subject is not willing to divulge details about her past life, t is likely a sore subject for the entity. This may explain her lack of a surname, as she only gave her first name during the admission process. 

-PVS-05 is capable of exiting the television whenever she pleases. When inside the television, her appearance is corporeal, consists of different shades of green and black, and has legs, unlike the incorporeal form she takes when outside the TV, which is a pale green color from head to torso, as she lacks legs. Her legs instead being wires that look not dissimilar to human intestines. Due to the lack of legs, we suspect the subject's cause of death was blood loss from being bisected after a TV fell on her, the subject has neither confirmed or denied this theory.

-PVS-05 has described being inside the television as being in “a green void of static”, the “void” is changed into a different location by the subject’s influence.

-PVS-05 hosts game shows within the Auditorium, typically during weekdays at 7pm, with the shows lasting from 25 to 30 minutes. The game show is a trivia game which tests its contestants knowledge of various subjects, including but not limited to; English, Math, Art, Geography, Health, and various sciences like Astronomy, Paleontology, Botany, etc. There is reason to believe she was a game show host in her past life, but that has not been confirmed as of now.

- PVS-05 has displayed the ability to play different clips and soundbites from various television shows when inside the television screen. Subject appears to do this as a form of reacting to things.

- Any water-based subjects (Ex: PVS-29 (“Finn”)) must be at least 6 feet away from PVS-05’s TV to prevent short-circuiting. PVS-46 (“Zester”) also appears to cause the subject to short-circuit when at least 5 feet close to her. 

-PVS-05 does not require sleep or the consumption of food to survive. Subject is incapable of doing the latter, as any edible matter will phase through her when outside the TV. 

-PVS-05 has friendly relations with PVS-04 (“Shelly”), PVS-07 (“Qwerty”), PVS-38 (“Glisten”), and PVS-41 (“Stitch”). PVS-07 and PVS-05 have especially come to see each other like siblings despite not being biologically related. By contrast, the subject appears to have tension with PVS-01A (“Dandy”), PVS-26 (“Tisha”), and PVS-40 (“Scraps”). The third of which is due to PVS-40’s incredible luck during the subject’s game shows, the other two are currently for unknown reasons, as the subjects have refused to divulge the cause of their tense relations with PVS-05 or vice versa.

-PVS-05 glows green, regardless of form when in dark or dimly lit areas. If inside the television in a dimly lit area, the TV will glow green, in her incorporeal form her entire body blows.

[slugterra-twisted-ends]

Slugterra's Cavern Systems

It will always baffle me when people say that the 99 Caverns are the 'central caverns' with there being the Eastern, Northern, Southern and Western cavern systems or that the 99 Caverns means there's 99 Infurnus slugs....

There's clear evidence in the series to support there actually being SIX Slugterra cavern systems and that the 99 Caverns is not the 'central caverns'.

Let's address the location of the 99 Caverns. We know that the 99 Caverns is underneath a place that commonly uses the imperil system of measurement (ie inches, feet, yards etc). And given it snows during Christmas, we can assume the country/continent over the top of the 99 Caverns is the USA/North America.

As for the count of the potential cavern systems, we go to Gateway Cavern and the Gateway Portal. The portal is made up of two rings; the outer which indicates which cavern system we're in (picture below is of the 99 Caverns symbol)

and the inner turn-able ring that shows six different symbols. (the sixth is obscured by the steps in front of it) Said ring will show which cavern system you're going to.

I think people forget to count the sixth symbol on the inner ring since they only see five. Or that they count one of the six as the Deep Caverns whilst the sun represents the Burning World/Surface

We know that there's one for the Eastern Caverns (below)

And that the sun symbol is associated with the Dark Bane or perhaps was meant to be a quick way back to the surface,

As for the other four; we have zero idea of which caverns they lead to

Personal headcanons of mine set them as the Southern, Pacific, European and Southwestern Caverns respectfully.

But now lets look at why the 99 Caverns is NOT the central caverns. Just because the 99 Caverns is canonically the largest and main cavern system we've seen/been in for the series doesn't mean it sits as the middle. Bullseye Cavern is the middle of the 99 Caverns, what the residents of that cavern system believed to be the center of Slugterra since they did not know of the other systems TILL the Goon and co attacked.

With the 99 Caverns under America, why would the Eastern Caverns still be referred as the Eastern Caverns when the closest path to them is from the west? Well that comes back down into world geography history! America is referred to as the West and Asia is referred to the East due to England and the UK being the center of attention. So by 'technicalities' under the UK's own classifications, they'd be the central caverns. Though, I don't think there should be 'central caverns', rather Western (99/under North America), Eastern (under Asia), Northern (European/under Europe), Southeastern (Pacific/under Australia & the surrounding islands)), Southern (under Africa) and Southwestern (under South America)

A very rushed map of an example;

Edit: Completely forgot to mention the Infurnus stuff- so quickly adding that!

There is only 2 known Infurnus slugs; Burpy and Joo-Joo. The idea of a Infurnus being the "defender's slug" of the cavern system. It is only true to Eastern Caverns with Joo-Joo being a slug held in Junjie's family for 2000 years.

There has to be at least a few more Infurnus slugs about, but very much limited in rarity (ie, almost One of a Kind per system)

[network-rail]

After seeing @cosmos-dot-semicolon's poll on what the most sexually attractive type of transport is (trains, obviously), we here at Network Rail were inspired to ask the public their thoughts on the various pieces of railroad infrastructure. You see, at Network Rail, we are responsible for infrastructure rather than the actual vehicles, so we were wondering what part of the railway the public considers most sexually attractive. Let us know your thoughts on this, along with what makes that part of the railway more attractive than the others.

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

theirs to share

a/n : jjk characters not mine. contains heavy lemons / mature scenes as the story progresses. reverse harem. femoc x nanami/geto/gojo. jjk alternate au. Wattpad Link : Theirs to Share || Story Masterlist : Jujutsu Kaisen

<…previous ... next…>

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

THIRTEEN

The fortress nestled deep within the outskirts of Tokyo had long since lost its intimidating aura. Once a forgotten relic of the jujutsu world, it now pulsed with quiet life and potential.

You stood just beyond the entrance, the heavy doors carved with protective seals sliding shut behind you. The hum of energy within the shelter was palpable—like a hundred sleeping sparks waiting to ignite. Geto Suguru stood beside you, arms crossed loosely, his expression unusually soft.

“This place feels... alive,” you said quietly, your eyes scanning the warm lighting, the open halls, and the rooms built like a school and a home.

Suguru nodded. “Because it is.”

He turned to face the central courtyard where several children played under the afternoon sun. Some were still hesitant, others open and laughing, testing their abilities with wooden training poles or chalk on the walls. A few stuck close to the teachers, wary but curious.

“When Master Tengen approved the use of this fortress, I wanted to build more than just a shelter,” Suguru continued. “I wanted it to be a sanctuary. A school. A home.”

You looked at him, admiration flickering in your eyes. “And you did. This is incredible, Suguru.”

His eyes warmed at the way you said his name.

“Yaga’s been a major supporter,” Suguru added. “He sees what this could mean for the future. Not just in power—but in healing. These kids… didn’t ask for what they were born with.”

You followed him through the hallways, past classrooms, small bedrooms, and open practice yards. A whiteboard in one corridor displayed the current assessment structure:

SHELTER SYSTEM: ASSESSMENT & INTEGRATION

Medical & Physical:

Lead: Ieiri Shoko 

Comprehensive physical health assessment.

Cursed energy influence on physical development.

Healing as needed.

Power & Control:

Lead: Gojo Satoru

Energy type classification.

Strength, stability, and potential tests.

Control exercises & risk evaluation.

Behavioral & Mental Health:

Lead: Principal Yaga

Trauma screening and therapy needs.

Social interaction observation.

Risk mitigation for high-volatility students.

Children with unstable abilities were closely monitored and given specialized treatment plans—some with therapy, others under watchful mentorship. The more withdrawn kids were eased in through play and gentle socialization, never forced.

In one of the smaller rec rooms, Nanami knelt beside a boy who kept creating sharp crystal formations around himself whenever he got nervous. Nanami calmly handed him a small book, sitting there and waiting with patient silence. The boy eventually sat too, mimicking him.

In the clinic room, Shoko sighed over a chart, her team of healers working efficiently to log results. She looked up and waved as you passed, tossing a cold drink your way.

“Don’t forget to hydrate,” she called. “It’s hell doing assessments with heat-exhausted kids.”

Further in the training yard, Satoru laughed, his blindfold pushed up as he levitated a group of kids in slow motion, letting them experience flight for the first time while keeping them safe in a soft field of cursed energy.

“They’re naturals!” he shouted proudly. “Some of these little gremlins might actually beat you in a few years!”

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

One of the girls near Satoru looked over and whispered to her friend, “Is that his wife?”

Suguru, beside you, smirked at your surprised blink. “Rumors spread fast around here.”

You ignored him, cheeks warm, and walked on—your heart full as you saw how everyone, from the strongest sorcerers to the smallest children, was fighting for something better. Hope. Control. Peace.

You stood in the center of the open garden, barefoot on the grass, hands raised with delicate control. The children encircled you, wide-eyed and breathless as you guided the elements like a storybook enchantress.

A soft gust danced through their hair as you summoned a miniature whirlwind that lifted flower petals into the air. With a flick of your wrist, droplets of water shimmered midair, catching sunlight like tiny rainbows. You weaved fire into harmless glowing ribbons and coaxed vines from the earth to twist into heart-shaped crowns for the younger ones.

“Wow!” one of the little girls gasped. “You’re a real fairy!”

“No,” a boy countered, “she’s a princess. The kind that saves people.”

You crouched down and gently placed a crown of living blossoms on his head. “You’re all the ones being brave,” you said with a wink. “I just know a few tricks.”

From under the nearby walkway, three sets of eyes were fixed on you.

Satoru, relaxed and leaning back with his arms behind his head, smiled with a mix of fondness and mischief. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… she’s unreal.”

Nanami, standing with crossed arms, exhaled a quiet sigh. “She’s good with them.”

But his eyes lingered longer than his words.

Suguru said nothing, but the quiet intensity in his gaze spoke volumes—his posture softer, his usual edge dulled by the sight of you laughing and playing with the children like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Ah, young love,” Shoko murmured behind them, a cigarette lazily balanced between her fingers.

The three men stiffened in sync.

“What?” Satoru blinked, pretending to be oblivious.

Shoko took a long drag and shrugged. “Didn’t say anything.” Then, with a teasing smirk, she added, “But if I were a betting woman, I’d put my money on the one who actually brings her tea instead of flirting like a teenager.”

Nanami’s jaw twitched.

Mei Mei strolled by, long silver hair swaying, dressed elegantly even in casual wear. She peered into the courtyard with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Oh, my. It’s like watching three overly composed CEOs fall for a magical babysitter,” she whispered, sipping her tea. Then, after a pause, she added with a giggle, “Delicious.”

“She’s not just a babysitter,” Suguru said lowly, finally breaking his silence. “She’s…”

He trailed off.

Satoru raised a brow, curious but saying nothing.

Out in the yard, you had conjured a sphere of soft glowing light, letting the children take turns poking it like a floating bubble. They squealed with delight every time it bounced away gently.

“See what I mean?” Shoko said, exhaling smoke upward. “That woman’s a walking spell.”

Mei Mei chuckled again, this time more softly, as she watched you brush a bit of dirt off a child’s cheek. “No wonder they’re all smitten.”

Shoko blew a long, slow puff toward the sky. “Utahime’s going to kill us if we keep encouraging this drama.”

That night…

The air in Nanami’s room was still, only the soft clink of whiskey glasses and the occasional rustle of fabric breaking the quiet. Low lamplight cast warm shadows on the walls as the three men sat— Satoru, Suguru, and Nanami—finally addressing the growing, shared tension between them.

Their glasses met with a soft chime, and the moment hung between them—ridiculous, unexpected, strangely sincere. Whatever came next, they’d face it like men: united in confusion, in affection… and in anticipation.

“So,” Satoru started, stretching long legs out and leaning back in his chair, blindfold pushed up to rest in his hair, “are we just gonna keep pretending we’re not all in love with the same woman?”

Nanami sighed, slow and deep. “No. That’s exactly why I asked you both here.”

Suguru gave a quiet hum from his place on the couch. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“I still think this is insane,” Nanami muttered, though not with much conviction. “But fair.”

Suguru let out a dry chuckle. “So it’s settled then? It’s either all of us… or none of us.”

Satoru nodded, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Friendship pact. The sacred bro code.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Nanami deadpanned.

Satoru grinned. “Come on. It’s kind of romantic in a deeply dysfunctional way.”

“We’re not teenagers. We’re grown men,” Suguru said calmly, then added, “...who all want the same woman and are too emotionally fucked up to admit it properly.”

Nanami shot him a look. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been honest about my feelings.”

Satoru raised a finger. “Correction: we’re all emotionally fucked up in different ways. But hey, we’re making progress. We’re talking, aren’t we?”

Suguru hummed in agreement. “So now what? We made our pact. How do we pursue her?”

Nanami rubbed his temples. “With tact. She’s not some conquest.”

Satoru leaned forward, a little more serious now. “Exactly. We don’t corner her. No pressure. We just… show up. Let her feel it.”

“Let her feel that she’s wanted. That she’s loved,” Suguru murmured, gaze softening. “By all three of us. Equally.”

“She’s already so protective with the kids. And kind,” Nanami added. “It’s not just affection she gives. It’s care. Security. She’s built for love… I don’t want her to feel burdened.”

Satoru gave a wistful sigh. “She’s already taken care of so much. The twins, Megumi, the kids at the shelter. I don’t want her to feel like she has to take care of us, too.”

“Then we make her feel safe,” Nanami said plainly. “Wanted. Not overwhelmed.”

Suguru nodded. “We do what we’ve always done. But this time, with intention.”

Suguru leaned back with a mischievous grin. “So, we try it all. One-on-one time, individual efforts… flowers, coffee breaks, stolen quiet moments. Then we see what happens when it’s all three of us—together.”

Nanami raised a brow. “You think she’ll actually let us?”

Satoru smirked. “I think she’s already considering it. Remember what we overheard?”

Suguru’s lips twitched. “She did joke about having all three of us.”

Nanami lifted his glass again. “If it wasn’t a joke… then we’re in uncharted territory.”

“But if she wants all of us,” he added bluntly, “I will not fuck the two of you.”

“Hard same,” Suguru said.

Satoru, ever the chaos, shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind watching her be fucked by either of you.”

“And I’ll make sure to add any of you to my curse collection if so much as the tip of dick touches one of yours,” Suguru replied smoothly, without missing a beat.

That earned a round of laughter as they clinked their glasses again.

Then Satoru leaned forward, eyes serious beneath the messy bangs. “I wouldn’t mind… if she wants us to fuck her at the same time.”

Suguru fell silent, not because he disapproved, but because the image it conjured made his thoughts turn dark and needy. He didn’t speak, just drained his glass.

Nanami cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “As long as it’s what she wants… I won’t mind.”

Their silence this time wasn’t from tension—but the heavy weight of real desire and uncertainty.

“She’ll let us know,” Nanami said eventually. “She’s strong. She’ll make the choice.”

“Until then,” Suguru said with a smirk, “we show her who we are. Individually. Together. Let her feel it.”

Satoru grinned. “No games. No pressure. Just all in.”

They clinked one last time.

“May the best... trio win,” Satoru added with a wink.

And the pact was sealed.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The REAL AI automation threat to workers

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

Long before the current wave of AI hype, we were being groomed for automation panics with misleading stories. Remember this one? "'Truck driver' is the most common job in America. Self-driving trucks are just around the corner. How can we prevent America's army of truckers from turning into a howling mob when the robots steal their jobs?"

https://futurism.com/millions-of-jobs-are-at-risk-but-their-loss-could-be-for-the-greater-good

It was absolute nonsense. First of all, "truck driver" isn't a particularly common job in America! The BLS lumps together all cargo vehicle drivers under a single classification. The category error here was thinking that every delivery van driver, furniture mover, and courier is behind the wheel of a big rig, cracking wise on a CB radio as they tear up the interstate.

But what about automation threats? It's possible that if we redesigned the interstates to give 16 wheelers their own separated lanes, and then set them to following one another, that they could traverse long distances in that way. Congratulations, you've just invented a shitty, failure-prone train.

"Shitty train AI" does not threaten the job of the vast number of people the BLS classifies as "truck drivers." For one thing, "shitty train AI" isn't going to pilot a UPS van around the streets of a busy city with other road users. Sure, a few robotaxi companies have bamboozled city governments into conscripting the city's residents into an uncontrolled murderbot experiment. These are not going well:

https://www.cbsnews.com/sanfrancisco/news/9-key-leaders-depart-gms-cruise-amid-ongoing-investigation-into-san-francisco-incident/

More than $100b has been set on fire chasing the robotaxi dream, and the result is most charitably described as a technological curiosity, requiring 1.5 high-waged remote technicians to replace each low-waged driver:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

But even if we could perfect this technology, robots still wouldn't replace all those "truckers" who drive delivery vans (to say nothing of moving vans!). The hard part of driving a UPS van isn't just getting it from place to place – it's getting the parcel into the place. The robo-van would still need at least one person to get the parcel from the back of the van and into the reception desk, porch, or other delivery zone. It's not going to fire those parcels at your door with a catapult. It's also not going to deliver them by drones. Drone delivery is another one of those historical curiosities, capable of delivering a very narrow range of parcels, under even narrower circumstances:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#droned

If all UPS delivered was lightweight, non-fragile rectangular parcels ordered by people with large, unobstructed back yards, then sure. Congrats, you've just created the world's least-useful parcel delivery service!

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2022/06/amazon-drone-delivery-service-seeks-faa-approval-to-launch-in-2022/

All that said, the big rig drivers probably don't need to worry about robots stealing their jobs. It's not even clear that "shitty train" is within our technological grasp, but even if it is, there's yet another problem with the AI automation trucker jobpocalypse: "trucker" is already one of the worst jobs in America:

https://www.usatoday.com/pages/interactives/news/rigged-forced-into-debt-worked-past-exhaustion-left-with-nothing/

It's hard to overstate just how fucking terrible it is to be a trucker. Truckers are trapped in abusive debt holes by their employers – who misclassify their workforce as "contractors" in a bid to sidestep labor law. Shriven of any labor rights, truckers are forced into the most ghastly, body-destroying, family-wrcking, financially precarious existence imaginable.

You can drive a truck for years, give almost all of the money you earn back to your employer (who denies that you're their employee) to pay back the usurious loan for your truck. Then, your employer can underschedule for shifts so that you miss a loan payment, and they can repo your truck and keep the six-figure repayment you've already made to them, leaving you destitute.

They can force you to work for hours – days! – without pay while you wait for loading and dispatch. They can make you drive long past the point of safety, then, if (when) you get into a wreck, they can fine you for not taking the mandated rest breaks.

Now, these drivers aren't about to be replaced by AI – but that doesn't mean that AI won't affect their jobs. Commercial drivers are among the most heavily surveilled workers in the country. Amazon's drivers (whom Amazon misclassifies as subcontractors) have their eyeballs monitored by AI;

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

AIs monitor the voices of the (primarily Black, primarily female) workforce at Arise – homeworkers who field customer service calls for blue-chip companies like Carnival Cruises and Disney. They're listening for unruly children or pets in the background, and workers who fail to muffle these dependents lose the contracts they have to pay to train for:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/22/paperback-writer/#toothless

And AI monitors the conduct of workers on temp-work apps. If a worker is dispatched to a struck workplace and refuses to cross the picket-line, the AI boss fires you and blacklists you from future jobs for refusing to robo-scab:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

Writing in The Guardian, Steven Greenhouse describes the AI-enabled workplace, where precarious, often misclassified workers are monitored, judged, and fined by algorithms:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2024/jan/07/artificial-intelligence-surveillance-workers

Whether it's the robot that gets you disciplined for sending an email with the word "union" in it or the robot that takes money out of your paycheck if you take a bathroom break, AI has come for the workplace with a vengeance.

Here's a supreme irony: nearly all of the beneficial applications for AI require that AI be used to help workers, not replace them, which is absolutely not how AI is used in the workplace. An AI that helps radiologists by giving them a second opinion might help them find tumors on x-rays, but that's a tool that reduces the number of scans a radiologist processes in a shift, by making them go back and reconsider the scans they've already processed:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

But AI's sales pitch is not "Buy an AI tool and increase your costs while increasing your accuracy." The pitch for AI is "buy and AI and save money by firing workers." Given how bad AIs are at replacing humans, this is a bad deal all around, both for the worker who loses their job and the customer who gets the substandard product the AI makes.

There is a very limited slice of applications where an AI could make a lot of money for a company that deploys it, without costing that company anything when the AI screws up. For example, AI is a really good tool for fraud! Rather than paying people to churn out millions of variations on a phishing email, you can get an AI to do it. If the AI writes a bad phishing email, it's OK, since nearly all recipients of even good phishing emails delete them. What's more, no one will fine you or publish an op-ed demanding that your board of directors fire you if you buy an incompetent AI to commit fraud. Fraud is a high-value, low-consequence environment for using AI.

Another one of those applications is managing precarious workers who don't have labor rights. If the AI unfairly docks your worker's wages, or forces them to work until they injure themselves or others, or decides that their eyeball movements justify firing them, those workers have no recourse. That's the whole point of pretending that your employees are contractors: so you can violate labor law with impunity!

But that's not the ironic part. The ironic part is that "being a shitty boss" is the one AI application that companies are willing to increase their net spending on. No one buys an eyeball-monitoring AI so they can fire a manager. This is the one place where AI is there to augment, rather than replace, an employee.

This makes AI-based bossware subtly different from other forms of Taylorism, the "scientific management" fad of the early 20th century that saw management consultants choreographing the postures and movements of workers to satisfy the aesthetic fetishes of their employers:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

The pseudoscientific cod-ergonomics of the 1900s was demeaning and even dangerous, but it wasn't automated, and if it increased worker output, this was incidental to the real purpose of making workers move like the machine-cogs their bosses reassured themselves they were:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Every AI panic is a way of deflecting attention from the real, grimy, here-and-now ways that AI is destroying our lives by demanding that we entertain nonsensical science fiction claims about large, shiny existential risks that AI might present in the future.

The "X-risk" of the spicy autocomplete chatbot waking up and using its newfound sentience to turn us all into paperclips is nonsense. Adding words to the plausible sentence generator doesn't turn it into a superintelligence for the same reason that selectively breeding faster horses doesn't lead to locomotives:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

But there is a way that AI could destroy the human race! The carbon footprint and water consumption associated with training and operating large-scale models are significant contributors to the climate emergency, which threatens the habitability of the only planet in the known universe capable of sustaining human life:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/federicoguerrini/2023/04/14/ais-unsustainable-water-use-how-tech-giants-contribute-to-global-water-shortages/

Likewise, AI isn't going to replace you at work. But it's already augmenting your shitty boss's ability to rip you off, torment you, maim you and even kill you in order to eke out a few more basis points for the next shareholder report.

Science fiction is a fun and useful way to tell parables about our current technologies. But it's not a roadmap for the future. The fact that sf writers like me found AIs as useful measures to describe Earth's dominant artificial life form – the limited liability corporation – doesn't mean that superhuman AIs should – or can – be created.

Back the Kickstarter for the DRM-free audiobook of The Bezzle, read by Tumblr's own @wilwheaton!

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/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

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

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

[trainsinanime]

This might be something you would have an opinion on:

A good train game?

Not *simulation* I know Train Simulator exists, but more the high level build a network, plan routes, upgrade engines over time, manage train composition etc.

I'm not super deep into that, to be honest, I haven't updated my trains in video games review website in well over a decade (and it's mostly broken now, I gotta fix some coding there one of these days).

But I can give you some weird answers:

Factorio is not a train game, but it has trains, and the later you go into it, the more trains become an important part of gameplay. Personal play styles will differ, of course, but I love to spend a lot of time tweaking the train network. That said, there's not a lot of depth to the train systems there. No real scheduling, route finding is fully automatic, you can't set up any truly complex stuff (no automatic shunting). For the record, I play with enemies off, except at the moment I don't play at all because Gleba seems too daunting (I'll get around to it one of these days).

I know a lot of people like Transport Tycoon Deluxe and its modern open-source reimplementation OpenTTD. I have never played it and so have no opinion on it.

If you want a really weird answer, "JB BAHN" or "Bahn.exe" is a German (English is also available) 2D rail simulation program that has an utterly bizarre hold on my mind. It's positively ancient, dating back to the 1990s, and older versions still required DOS. The UI still looks like Windows 3.1. The website still uses frames. The graphics aren't retro pixel art, they're genuine old pixel art, looking like someone took the style of a communist illustrated children's lexicon and reproduced it in MS Paintbrush (not Paint, that came later). It's objectively awful… and if I start playing it, I don't stop for thirty hours (average). Part of it is that it's very mechanical, you can spend a lot of time just redoing the same steps over and over. Part of it is the very intricate depth of its scheduling and shunting system. Want to build a classification yard? Want to build a station where the locomotive runs around its train? Want to build a station where the locomotive uncouples and another couples to the train to continue the journey? All possible, with the slight caveat that everything is a massive ordeal. I love this game. Don't play it.

Cities Skylines. The 1 version, not the 2, which I haven't played because it has no Mac version (neither does JB BAHN, I haven't played that in years). The railroad system simulation is entirely surface-level, incredibly janky, part of the traffic system that is even more janky in all its other parts, and there are a lot of obvious missing features, but hey, you can have some fun with it.

I don't think this is helpful but this is the best I got, sorry.

[federer7]

December 1942. "Chicago, Illinois. Switching and classification freight yards. Engineer and fireman thawing out air compressors on a cold morning at a Chicago and North Western railyard."

Photo by Jack Delano for the Office of War Information.

View full size

[dark-pattern-witch]

Petrochemical Dependency

— Part One of a short narrative building on the work of @empress-em-kaldwin

Gasoline vapors permeate her sinuses as she waits in the old mall parking lot that had been converted to a detainment center. A tired breath leaves her lips, her eyes low, searching the other people there. Three other souls stand aside her, one of them has pad of gauze taped haphazardly against his temple. Their eyes catch each other and they exchange pity. From her for his bandages, from him for the binds around her wrists.

Her forearms still ache from where they were pinned into the gravel driveway behind her apartment building. She still was processing the last twelve hours; she'd thought she was doing a good job of keeping her head down. She had scrubbed all of her "Rowan the mage" social media far before anything got anywhere close to being this bad. Either someone told on her, or they had been keeping a list since then. She isn't sure which is worse.

Rowan is still trying to figure out how they'd found her out when the doors to the bus open and she's gestured on board, four men with rifles stand twenty yards away. The bus is maybe three quarters full, eyes as tired as hers stare back at her and at her cuffs. Rowan shrugs at them, no point in trying to explain. Not like it will do her any good now.

A week ago she'd been keeping her head down at her job, quietly talking to friends online. Over the past two years more and more of them just disappeared. Rowan hated watching them vanish, but didn't want to vanish herself. She still feels that way, still just keeps treading water. Perform well but not too well at work, only go shopping late at night when very few people were around, put in rent on time and don't draw any attention. She isn't sure what was wrong with it, she thought it was working. Maybe it had been.

Rowan first realized that something about her was 'wrong' was when she got grounded for two months for 'casting spells' on the neighbors down the road. Father didn't care that they'd asked to see magic, nor did he care that she didn't actually hurt anyone. What mattered was that 'magic' (which Rowan had yet to learn at the time) freaked people out. He didn't believe in 'unholiness' or anything of the sort, but the neighbors did, and the situation embarrassed him. He talked about the incident the same way he talked about her hair, which she'd always worn long. He said it "makes you look effeminate". She was about nine years old.

Whenever he yelled at Rowan for something he made sure to emphasize the fact that he didn't have a problem with it. He wasn't yelling because magic bothered him, he wasn't yelling because my hair bothered him, he wasn't yelling because being gay bothered him. No, being a sissy faggot who cast hexes on the local children wasn't a thing that bothered him, but, you see, the neighbors complained to him about it, and that was embarrassing. He hated being embarrassed.

As it turned out, she could actually cast spells, mostly trivial legerdemain, tricks of light at first and more with time. She read lots and learned fast, She felt that it was important to understand herself. She spent her teenage years learning more and more about witches and sorcerers and mages and enchanters and every other word that attempted to classify the ways that people like her defied classification. On social media she saw posts talking about how cool it must be to be able to fold laundry telepathically next to politicians warning about the dangers that magic users posed to the airline safety, they looked just like each other.

Who the fuck cared if she could smuggle drugs onto a plane with magic, the TSA couldn't even catch mundane attempts to conceal knives, seemed to her that they had other things to prioritize. Rowan kept those thoughts to herself thought, getting into fights about it online seemed… very stupid, to her. She knew after all that the claims of being 'safety conscious' were just lies. And all of the people who seemed to miss that just made her more tired, more angry.

The scent of gasoline reminds her of high school, waiting for the bus in early January where her breath clouded in the cold. At that point it was a open secret that something was wrong with her. The seat beneath her rattles heavily as the engine comes on in the rear, she leans her head against the window and tries to think about the last time she was on a bus like this. High school feels so far away now.

Not all the kids at school instantly hated her, but one by one indifferent ones joined the rest. Whether it was due to group pressure or influence from their parents, by the end of her freshman year everyone in the class had been taught to avoid her. She learned lessons fast, and the first year taught her that the other kids weren't her friends, and to keep getting good grades. She kept her head down, turned in her papers and picked the right answers on the tests. The few people who would talk to her asked her how it was so easy for her. She did' have a good answer for them, sure she never really studied and still got good grades but that didn't mean it was ever easy.

About a year and a half in her parents suddenly started asked how school was going, if she got bullied, how her grades were, if she was enjoying class. By that point she had already learned that talking to them about her problems didn't help, so she lied. No mom I'm not getting bullied, yes dad classes are going well. Even when her grades started to slip a little bit, she kept going. At the time she felt lucky that her parents never checked her report cards, so she hid the faltering grades and the bruises and the harassment from her parents.

She wished there was more to say about it, more weight to the high points, more depth to the lows, most of it meant very little. There was one thing that stood out to her though. In her senior year a club for demihuman kids. She…. never went, too much time reading arguments about ‘whether or not casters were actually demihuman' had left her too scared to go a club until college. But it meant something to her. For a little while she had felt like things were going to be different.

The bus jumps the curb its way out of the parking lot, her stomach lurches as she grabs onto the seat in front of her with both hands, cuff chains clinking. She wishes she could be so hopeful now.

[artilaz]

Astronomy professor Gale getting that thousand yard stare whenever someone asks him an astrology question.

It has happened so many times in the past that, at the start of each Astronomy 101 class, he's now giving some kind of disclaimer -

"Please be aware that this class is on astronomy, not astrology. Astronomy is the natural science that studies celestial objects and the phenomena that occur in the cosmos, whereas astrology is complete and utter hogwash concocted by quacks to sell miracles to gullible fools. If any of you are here with the expectation of learning about horoscopes and the classification of personalities by what star sign one was born under, I encourage you to leave, for you will be severely disappointed."

- and then ends up contemplating blowing the whole place up as a good handful of students get up and walk out of the lecture.

[postmortemscandala]

Jeffery Woods

Classification: Affected Human

Behaviour:

impulsive & dangerous

is not in touch with reality

takes pride in what he does: keeps recordings of news reports, newspaper clippings

likes to keep photos of his victims & show them off to people

poses the bodies in dehumanising ways: usually in a kneeling position because it puts him in a higher position to them

never hides his tracks because he uses the gateway system to run/hide

doesn't plan his kills but often goes after families because of a deep-rooted jealousy

Likes to kill in the most painful ways possible: strangulation, bleeding to death etc

Solipsism:

reality is not 'real' in the sense of being external to him

thinks of himself as 'God' and the only real thing

"They're not real so it doesn't matter"

Relationships:

love and friendships are like a game to him

it's funny to have someone follow him around like a dog & worship the ground he walks on

likes to manipulate people into staying with him, often trying to get pity for his face

The Operator is interested in him, but Jeff dismisses him

doesn't use the term 'friend' with people, just views them as entertainment and satisfaction for himself

as for Nina, he doesn't care for her. She feeds his ego and acts as a way to let his anger out. Also views her as a means to dispose of bodies when he needs to

Past:

similar to the 2011 storyline

but he pushed the bullies to light him on fire

doesn't regret what he did - both the fire and his parents - and would probably do it again

used to kill animals when he was younger: performed 'autopsies' on them and kept the remains in a box hidden in the yard

growing up, would do anything to get his own way

often physically & emotionally abuse Liu just because he was bored.

is 27 years old

5'7"

American

has a lean figure

has hardly any eyebrows (they're slowly growing back)

does have eyelids, just prefers to not blink a lot (enjoys the sting)

has thin & greasy hair

Burn:

the burn would not have been caused by bleach because bleach isn't flammable

most likely, strong alcohol would have been used (e.g. gin, vodka, rum, tequila, whiskey etc)

Face/smile scars:

would use them for pity points & manipulation

is proud of them, did them because he survived the fire which fed his delusion of being a God

Affected Human:

every wound heals at a quicker rate than normal and have no chance of being infected - but is not completely immortal though

only his burns and face scars stay because they were inflicted before he was exposed to the energy

[itsbenedict]

gonna have to miss another update- between back-to-back work meetings until 7pm, an art telephone entry i had to finish, and a planning session for the World of Darkness game i'm in, today was a day with zero room to maneuver

incidentally look at how bonkers the planning my WoD GM does is:

i have never seen any GM prepare an interactive PDF of the map before. this isn't even the entire base we're infiltrating! this is just the first two floors we have blueprints for! part of our mission is finding blueprints for the lower floors so we can make a second plan for getting through there so we can heist our pet pig back from the government! and this isn't even the only handout- there's like, documents on the magic system, documents on Valkyrie's classification hierarchy, documents on all the third-party contractors the base deals with- every fucking document we might lift from anywhere is an actual handout he prepared and formatted because his sessions are more real than reality.

some of the planning we did from several days ago:

Phase 1: Entry -> Paragon Access

Relm poses as an Eagle tech and heads to the Intelligence sector to try to sabotage Brunn data and frame Capricornus.

I pose as a Clarksdale janitor, find a bathroom, and teleport the rest of the team inside via Levi's chalk circle.

We either find a good pre-mealtime window or make a distraction to clear the kitchen by setting off the kitchen sprinklers via the electrical closet, and Levi and I make a hole in the left wall.

I head inside, wait until I don't hear anyone in the server room, and then leave the closet and install the covert USB connection on the server.

I return to the closet and upload our Bifrost data, and begin trying to acquire a cybersecurity account.

In the meantime, Levi, Raya, and Fed explore the accessible areas in search of Pierce, Davidson, or Stern. If they find one, they get within 10 yards and activate one of my magic card cloners to copy their keycard.

If possible, they swipe Davidson's laptop and get the keycodes in case I fail the hacking.

They also search for an unattended computer terminal, in case I succeed and get the cybersecurity account. If I do, someone uses the account creds to acquire the sector keycodes.

Phase 2: Paragon Access -> C-level

Someone with Personnel access (probably just about anyone, there's no specific uniform for being in the Personnel sector) heads to the Laundry room in H232 to obtain five uniforms matching our Bifrost access, and applies patches.

If we don't yet have override keycards, someone with a Command-access Bifrost and an appropriate uniform enters the Command sector and attempts to clone Pierce's keycard.

While there, they enter C102 Mission Control and take pictures of the C-level floorplans on the monitors.

Optionally, search for more Brunn records to sabotage somehow, if they can get away with it cleanly.

Someone else with Security access can try the same thing with the Security sector, in case Pierce is elsewhere. C-level floor plans available in D102.

Meanwhile, if we got the keycodes through a successful hack and have cybersecurity admin access, someone injects Towerfall's trojan into the system to disable the Redeye status indicator. (I believe this is with the Rubber Ducky?)

Otherwise, someone's going to need to look into rewiring the Redeye system to report an all-clear despite the alarms going off. Probably difficult so let's hope the other plan worked.

If we're missing any uniforms from Laundry, someone should head to the locker rooms in search of a suitable replacement.

Once we've obtained an appropriate keycard, someone with Systems access goes to K203 and disables the Redeye system with the override.

tonight was a voice call where we found all those holes and desperately tried to patch them. we patched... some of them. we are extremely going to get caught and possibly killed by the MIB. jesus fuck.

[dark-elf-writes]

I remember being like 7 or 8 and hanging out in my neighbor's yard with my friend cause the lady had a thick knotted rope hanging from her tree for her grandkids to swing on. So one day, while we hanging out and swinging a helicopter got so low the wind from it was shaking the tree branches and I could feel the vibrations coming from the rope swing. Just WHY it got that low for no reason I still do not know to this day.

The first thing that popped into my head was the Nightvale classification of helicopters which I don’t think is particularly helpful unless the helicopter had a bird of prey painted on it.

[u-ntitled-s-eries]

Day 12 - Models

The warm and humid air was a welcome change to the cold and dry wind outside, and above the sound of rushing water and excited murmurs, the soft whirring of electric motors echoed around the conservatory.

Lines of tracks were arranged at every exhibit, some nestled between the moss and shrubs while others raised high above the plants and garden beds. And for each line, a little model train happily traveled up and down the path, traveling past miniature landmarks and real-life plants.

“I don’t think I will ever get bored of the sight. It is as if the city has been reclaimed by nature.” Ingo said. He spoke with an uncharacteristic softness but still maintained a sense of wonder. On your other side, Emmet watched as the model train zipped away, traveling over a recreation of Skyarrow Bridge.

“Good thing the trains still work. At least the 4-6-0s do.

“It is a numerical classification system for locomotives.” Ingo must have caught the confused furrow of your brow. He nodded to the train that just went by. “Each number relates to the number of wheels. First the leading wheels-“

“The small ones at the very front.”

“Then the driving wheels…”

“Those are the big ones with the connecting rods.”

“And finally the trailing wheels.”

“The small ones at the back of the engine. This one doesn’t have any. See?”

The model comes back around and you count two small sets of wheels followed by three large ones. Small-big-small.

“Ready for our next stop?” Emmet asked, already linking his arm around yours. Ingo just laughed, watching his brother dragged

you to the next display without hesitation.

A whole yard of tracks ran back and forth under a miniature Nacrene Museum, and Emmet leaned so close to the display that you’re afraid he would fall into it. You tug on his arm and point to the nearest model skittering along.

“Um…0-4-2, right?”

He smiles even wider and squeezes your arm.

“Yep!”

A/N: If I made any mistakes about Whyte Notation, don’t be afraid to send me a correction.