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starrykaulitz · 9 months

Note

could you write more older tom🙏🏼 i love the way you write for him🩷🩷

$ shameful, sinful, immoral.

when you let me start to love you, its like a bunch of broken picture frames.

warnings; language, smut (18+), dirty talk, rough tom, unhealthy?, p in v, cheating, cigarettes.

it was so wrong of her, so immoral, so against anything she’d ever stand for; but she was doing it for him, with him.

she gripped onto his long locks of hair, fingers almost carving into his scalp. his tongue lapped up any juices in which she’d released. he was acting starved, vicious in the way his mouth engulfed her aching bud.

the prey which now writhed under tom’s animalistic grip was letting out puny whines, groans and moans falling from her plump lips.

“stay still.” he monotoned between licks, his fingers pressing marks into her thighs as he split her open.

he groaned deeply against her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her grip on the pale sheets bellow her curling and scrunching them in ecstasy. she felt as tom’s large hand snaked upward from her thigh, gently washing his digits over her concaved stomach until he met with her soft breast.

he massaged it, palmed it until it seemed to mould to his hand. then, her aching core was met with the cool summer air of the open window. his head had left the crevice of her legs, left her longing for his rough and brutal touch.

she whined at the absence of his beard against her now aching pussy, though she was met with an exquisite view. tom, sat on his knees between her legs, unbuckling the belt to his jeans. she observed intently as they fell to his knees, his boxers joining them in suit.

she would never get used to looking at how big tom was, at how his size seemed to threaten her whole body whenever it’d enter her, tear her in two, mould her pussy to its exact form.

she hated that she wasn’t able to call him hers, wasn’t able to be invited into his home—only into motels on those secret friday nights, picking her up out the front of some bus stop hidden beneath a singular street-light.

his wife, what was she doing right now? most definitely not thinking that her most innocent husband was off fucking some young, petite model in some cheap, tacky motel.

though the girl didn’t care, she’d never care as long as tom continued to meet her on these friday summer nights, make her forget all her concerns, make her feel special for only mere moments as ecstasy and tension overcame the two lustful beings.

he stared into the girls eyes, searching for the okay as he began to enter her, as he caused that familiar preliminary pain.

she let out a throaty moan and threw her head back against the pillow below her, he’d barely given her enough time to get used to his size before he began to pound into her relentlessly.

“tom!” she cried out, gripping onto his arms as crescents from her acrylic nails became fruitful against his tan skin, now slick with sweat.

he groaned deeply against her neck, muffling curse words as he took advantage of her tight pussy. he bit softly at the clear skin on her neck, placing purple marks soon to be dappled amongst her pale skin.

“fuck… you always feel so good.” he grunted as his pace quickened with ease, the familiar feeling of her legs wrapping around his slim waist only encouraging his roughness.

“harder, tom!” she cried, needing to feel the pain that came amongst the pleasure of his sex.

tom attended to her request, the sound of skin slapping against skin heightening, echoing throughout the small motel room-- neither cared if anyone could hear them.

her hands slowly slithered from his brawny arm to his tense back, scraping and clawing at any skin she could. she needed him closer, needed him deeper. he cried out at the grazes and aching marks which the girl left from beneath him, paying him back for the pain his length was causing her.

“i-im…” she tried to let the words fall from her mouth, but they seemed to catch on her tongue. her body bounced backward and forward as his demanding and rough pumping only became more and more vicious. he wanted to destroy her, eat her alive until she was just a longing mess.

“use your words, sweetie…” he trailed off before nibbling at the lobe of her ear.

“im close!” she finally cried out, uncrossing and untangling her tongue as she felt the knot within her begin to loosen intensely.

“god… already? your just made for this dick, arnt’cha.” he hummed lowly into her ear, his breath heated against her already boiling skin.

and with a yelp, the pathetic girl came undone beneath her predator.

he threw his head back as her hole tightened around him, guttural groans leaving his body as he continued to hammer pumps into her now throbbing entrance.

“tom, please!” she squealed, though that wasn’t enough to stop him. tom was now drowned in lust, his long hair swaying back and forth as he watched how her breasts bounced in time with his plunges.

watching her struggle beneath him only encouraged the pounding and overstimulation the girl was receiving, only lured him further into the way her body seemed to almost become numb to the feeling.

finally, he’d halted his thrusts for only a mere moment. his rough hands snatched the overwhelmed girl’s waist, flipping her over with absolute affluence until her ass had been in the air, back arched and almost begging for his entry.

he admired the state she was in, the way that she’d barely been able to hold herself together, how she was almost fucked to pieces after only one orgasm. his wife couldn’t give him this, couldn’t give him the satisfaction of fucking someone until they’d forget their own name, until the only name they could remember was his own.

he’d never fucked someone like her, someone so pathetic yet so alluring. someone so petite yet so full of fiery lust. she was perfect to him, a doll in which was created for his own sinful satisfaction, used by him until broken, fucked out until hollow.

she cried out against the plush pillow below her as she felt him enter once again, slamming directly into her uterus. her knuckles turned a milky white as they clung desperately to the same pillow which seemed to be the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces.

tom let out a long, lustful, rasping moan as he connected their skin. his pumping hastened, his body beginning to mould to her back all whilst his long arm reached under her until it met with her swollen clit.

“tom, no!” though he continued to rub figure eights into its wet centre, just how he knew she liked. every ‘no’ had only been an invitation to keep going—the girl knew exactly what to say if she really wanted tom to stop.

she felt pathetic beneath him, pathetic because she already felt her second orgasm building in her guts, building in her brain as her vision became blurry.

soon, the only sounds her body had been able to produce were slurred and slippery moans, desperate and sloppy attempts in releasing her pleasure from some hole other than the one being stuffed by tom. she couldn’t think against his dick, couldn’t think as she listened to the way he praised and spanked her ass.

she felt his hot breath against the skin of her nape before another bite mark was planted, then another, then another, until the entirety of her back seemed to glow a dark purple.

“you look so fucking good like this, taking me so well.” his german accent pricked at the tip of his tongue as he interchanged between dialects.

“you gonna cum again? fucking slut, twice before I’ve even finished once.” she had no idea why, but his harsh words only made her fall deeper into his trap, deeper into the way she was already so close to finishing for the second time that night.

though not only was she near her end, she felt as tom began twitching within her, felt his fingers grip and rip into the skin on her waist crueller, more desperately, as if preparing himself to be slammed by a tsunami of desire.

as the pathetic girl beneath him came undone for the second time, he listened intently to the whines that fell out of her gaping mouth. the noises she was producing were utter sin, vulgar and filthy to those who weren’t within the act—animalistic and loutish.

and with that, with the feeling of her body collapsing in on itself, the feeling of her organs tightening and twisting around his dick, he came undone in a singular thrust. a rasping moan escaped his parted lips, followed by a string of curses as he filled her with his seed—keeping himself planted within her to ensure that none of it would seep out.

his head, which was thrown backward, finally tilted upright until facing the mangled girl, the only thing holding her up and toward him being tom’s pure strength—or what was left of it.

as he slowly left her aching hole, he watched as the singular string of mixed liquids followed. he smirked, attempting to ignore the ringing in his ears and the darkening behind his eye-lids.

“you okay?” he let out finally, tone laced with worry as he watched the girl unmoving beneath him. though that concern was soon lost as he watched the small nod of her head against the pillow.

his fingers tenderly fluttered against the skin of her waist, following the crevices of her body until they had reached the hair which stuck to her forehead by sweat. he brushed it away, placing it gently behind her ear, watching amusingly at her chest rising and falling.

she was perfect—so utterly perfect, could be compared to even a doll. he moved from hovering over her to sinking the bed beside her, instantly reaching to the bedside table alongside him, taking a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from it. removing one from its paper packaging, he placed it between perked lips as it lit to life, a long puff of smoke leaving him as if the ghost which possessed him during his heinous act vanished into the heavy air of the night.

finally, the girl beside him had gained enough vitality to move faintly, using this energy to turn to her side, to face the man who sat in silence.

“tom.” her tone was laced with worry, questioning, just as his was.

“your wife… what will-“

“do not mention her.” almost instantly, he shut down the girls question, another cloud of smoke leaving his red lips as his frows burrowed, though his eyes swayed from her own. he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t face the consequence of the very action in which had been happening for much too long now.

silence lingered between the two, both pairs of eyes looking at everything that wasn’t the other.

then, tom’s deep voice spoke, uttered the words in which she had never wanted to hear, words in which would shatter and break her heart in two.

“I can’t see you again.”

#tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x oc #tokio hotel smut

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columboscreens · 5 months

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columbo is so gender to me but i dont think i could ever look like him</3

i think it's totally possible for anyone to embody his essence. you can even manage to rock something directly inspired by columbo without looking like you're cosplaying.

hair

if you have columbo's hair type, it's actually pretty easy to emulate his styles. i even know people who show pictures of columbo to hair stylists to get his look. my partner's hair in its natural state is very similar to columbo's--dark, wavy, tending to grow in spite of gravity rather than with it. whenever he gets his hair cut, he shows the stylist photos of late 60s/pilot episode peter falk, whose look is actually pretty on-trend for the current era. it works out pretty well.

your swag may have aged well pilot columbo but you can't beat floof

failing that, getting any haircut that is natural, low-maintenance, and not too attention-grabbing captures the visual language all the same. for reference, natasha lyonne in poker face has her hair in natural-looking, messy waves that to me just exude columbo.

clothing

how you present yourself to the world is up to you, but if you want to invoke columbo, there's a lot more you can do than buy a tan raincoat.

in an era of sharply-cut, wide-lapelled constructions, fat tie tuesdays, and gucci loafers, columbo stands out as classic comfort personified.

his collar, tie, and lapels are slim, proportional, and unassuming; they'd look good in almost any era. his pants fit closely to his leg but not too wide or slim, and sit at or near the natural waist. though his suits, shirts, ties, shoes, socks, and even coats rotate, there is a consistent color palette keeping him "on model". he embraces earth tones: creams, forest greens, light browns, dark browns, stony grays, rusts, and roses. his clothing seems like an afterthought, but it's an extension of his personality--rumpled and unassuming at first, yet sharp and deliberate upon further inspection.

amid the 1970s explosion of synthetic popularity, it says something that every stitch of textile on columbo's person is natural (aside from the raincoat, which is probably nylon or poly--he wears it without a lining and uses it as essentially an oversized windbreaker). his boots are leather with crepe latex soles; his tie is silk. his shirt is cotton, a bit boxy but comfortable and properly fitted. because the construction of his suits is roomy and unstructured, and because they're made of linen, they wrinkle easily.

this is easily confused for appearing slovenly. actually, all things considered, his clothes fit him pretty damn well, it's just hard to avoid wrinkling natural fibers like linen and cotton, especially in hot weather. he's running around los angeles sweating up a storm, the man needs loose, breathable fabric.

point is, columbo dresses very thoughtfully. since these clothes are workwear for him and he works a hell of a lot, it's imperative that he factors in the weather, his comfort, and proper fit when picking clothes. he wants to like and be comfortable in them while looking unassuming. so even though he sometimes ends up looking like an unmade bed, his choices are deliberate.

you could invoke these principles in your own appearance by picking earthy colors/jewel tones and comfortable, natural fabrics that you enjoy wearing, which has the added benefit of being better for you and the environment. consider also taking a few garments in to be altered. it's usually not that expensive, supports your local needlefolk, and makes even cheap clothes fit great.

as a last little aside, i think having a "signature" clothing item akin to columbo's raincoat would be a nice touch. a jacket, a pair of shoes, even a watch or necklace. something you always wear. if you really do want a raincoat like his, just make sure you're not buying a trench coat, because, repeat after me: columbo does not wear a trench coat.

#columbo #ask #misc #longpost #excuses for me to sperg about fashion #could say more about columbo's tendency to remain static while subtly following trends via hair and clothing but this post is already 2 Lon

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hyuuukais · 4 months

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> general, feelings of anxiety, punches r thrown

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIVE -> BAD BITCH ENERGY (partially written! wc:722)

"Actually, I can't do this!" You exclaim, anxiety gnawing at your lungs as you get closer to your home.

"Yes, you can." Minho drives on, not sparing a glance in your direction.

Sooner than you hoped, you're there, staring at the pale yellow door through the passenger side window of Minho's car. The house looks no different than when you left, only you can see your flowers drooping slightly in the window. Although you'd only been gone less than a week, it felt like a million years. This place was no longer your home; you didn't know if you had one anymore.

"Just- can we stay parked here for a second?" You try to squash the tight feeling in your throat, constricting your words to a whisper. "I'm not ready."

"No offence, but I don't really wanna waste my gas sitting here all day-"

"Yeah, and that thing I left for you was actually kind of important-" Beomgyu chips in.

"I basically stood someone up for you, so you better not chicken out-" Han gives you a pointed look.

They all stare at you and you have to look away, hide the tears welling in your eyes. You're going to disappoint them if you don't go, just like you disappointed Seonghwa, just like you always do. You never should have asked them, never should have burdened them with this-

"Hey." Minho shifts his body to face you better and you glance over, eyes falling to your hands. "How about we come with you? Would that make it better? Easier?"

You look up at his question, tears now threatening to spill over. "Yes, please."

"Shit, she's gonna cry again!" Beomgyu laughed uncomfortably. "Y/n, c'mon, it'll be okay, don't worry! You've got us. Now, wipe your eyes and let's go. Can't have your ex seeing you this distraught over him, can we?"

"Bad bitch energy," you say in a broken voice, words NingNing has tried to engrave into your very brain over the years.

"Bad bi-" Han waves a hand in the air. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

You wipe your eyes, trying to muster every bit of strength you have to see him, placing a hand on the door handle. A wave of fear washes over you again when you start to push it open, the boys following suit.

But then you slam it shut.

Han groans loudly and sits back down, Beomgyu and Minho doing the same.

"What happened?" Han asks, exasperated. "Where's the bad bitch energy or whatever?"

"I'm sorry!" You can't look at them. "I'm sorry. I can't-"

"Enough with the 'I cant's' because yes, you can." Minho turns his whole body to you again, grabbing your chin with two fingers, and making you look at him. "He broke your heart. He hurt you. So, yes, you can go in there, reclaim your things, and never have to see him again. There's no reason for you to even think about him after this." He can tell you're not fully convinced. "How did it feel to see him with the other woman?"

"It felt like my heart shattered into a million pieces," you say. Minho opens his mouth, but you continue on. "Then he took those pieces, ground them up into a fine powder, and scattered them to the edges of the Earth where I'll never find them again. It felt like the ultimate betrayal because I knew I gave him everything and trusted him, but he clearly didn't do the same. Or even close."

You sit up straighter, squaring your shoulders.

"Yes, there, that's it." Minho smirks, eyes widening ever so slightly.

"And the way he thought I'd be the one cheating?" You're anger flares, skin heating up. "As if I didn't tell him how much I loved him daily? As if I wouldn't be too busy working on something that I was proud of that he didn't even let me talk about because, 'oh, honey, we both know your career isn't going any further'."

Anger leads you out of the car and to the front door before you can register your feet moving, pounding a fist on the door when the spare key is nowhere to be found, mumbling every wrongdoing he's committed.

You are furious.

And your hand moves on its own when Seonghwa opens the door.

notes -> do NAWT mess w miss y/nnie. she WILL beat ur ass.

notes pt 2 -> didn't mean to post this! so accidental extra chapter today lmaoo

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @taeriffic @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13

L^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #skz #stray kids #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids smau #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smau #lee minho x fem reader #lee know x fem reader

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chocolatechubby · 1 year

Video

Bernie's Big & Tall

By Fatbrwncub

(posted with the permission of the Author)

The biggest problem--excuse me while I finish this last bite of cruller--is where to begin. It all seems to have happened so fast. One minute I'm standing in the unemployment line, trying to figure out where my next meal is coming from; the next thing you know, I'm getting the doors in my apartment widened so that I can get through. Oops! There goes another button.

Let me go back to the beginning--back to that unemployment line. My lover and I had been having problems making ends meet. There wasn't a great deal of a demand for my particular line of work in the winter---I was a lifeguard. At 6' 2" and 180 pounds, I cut a muscular frame, but everyone looks pretty much the same bundled up in parkas. My old job at the "Y" would probably have hired me back, but the pay stunk. And with a new lover, Sean, I had another mouth to consider. Sean suggested that I try modeling --his chosen profession, but as gorgeous as he was, he wasn't getting much work either. Why should we both be jobless cover boys? So, I headed to the unemployment office. Maybe something there would turn things around. Little did I know how right I was.

The place was depressing. Fluorescent light and peeling yellow walls covered everything like a moldy blanket. Cheap plastic chairs were set up for clients to wait for their turn to be humiliated by the next available counselor: "You'll have to take forms 2 thru 26 to windows 5 thru 14. Fill out lines A thru F on forms 30, 31, & 45; have them notarized and come back to me.... THEN I can tell you where the rest rooms are." As much as I needed the money, I wasn't up for that kind of run around. The YMCA was looking really good at that moment. As I got up to leave, I noticed the chair next to me quiver ever so slightly--as if a tremor were going through the building. The little table next to it was moving too. Now being hundreds of miles away from California, I knew it couldn't possibly be an earthquake. I was wrong. It was indeed an earthquake in human form. From around one of the peeling yellow corners, came the largest guys I had ever seen. His stomach seemed to go on forever, riding over his belt and spilling onto his massive underbelly like a tidal wave. Each of his labored steps made it quiver and roll. His arms, chest, and shoulders were so large that he had to twist his body slightly to maneuver the corner, yet each movement had an elephantine grace that was something to see. He was dressed impeccably in a suit that must have been tailor-made for him: it hung gracefully on his gargantuan figure. He was quite handsome, dusty blonde hair and neatly trimmed beard, and the bluest eyes. Growing up, the party queens I hung with always made fun of fat guys. Somehow, I always found something vaguely attractive about men with extra meat on their bones. I absent-mindedly rubbed my stomach as I watched him make his way to a Job Resource bulletin board on the other side of the room. He scanned the whole area carefully--deep in concentration, he seemed to be looking for someone. When his eyes met mine, his mood abruptly changed. His full round mouth had a slight smile on it as he zeroed in on me. I got the feeling he was studying me-not in that "cruisey" way, but as if he were trying to figure me out. He, raised a sausage-like finger, and motioned me over to him. For some reason, I wasn't taken aback at all. Something about him seemed so familiar. "Looking for a job?", he said. "Kinda", I replied. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a candy bar and a folded piece of green paper. "Wanna bite?", He asked. "No thanks…", I replied "…but I could use work." He unfolded the piece of paper and tacked it on the bulletin board, smudging it slightly with the chocolate from his fingers. "Well then, you might wanna check this out." With that, he took a large bite of candy bar, turned around, and began lumbering back down the hallway. I was about to say something when he stopped and turned around again (no easy feat for a man his size). "How old are you?", he asked. Slightly startled by his abrupt departure, I blurted out "29." Before I could ask him why it mattered, he patted his mountain of a stomach and smiled a knowing smile: "Same age as I was when I started at BB&T. See ya' around Danny!" And with that, he and his tremors were gone.

BB&T? I looked at the piece of paper for a moment. I took it down from the board and began studying it--trying to make it tell me more about the big, mysterious stranger. But all it did was sit in my hand and smell of Hershey's. The only writing was a quickly scribbled address and telephone number: "Bernie's Big and Tall-525-BIGG. The chocolate had formed a ring around the writing so that it looked like a halo. I laughed at the idea of working in a big men's shop, but hell, I needed work badly. Besides, something inside me started recalling the times when I'd been oddly aroused by the large men who were the butt of my friends' jokes. Maybe by working there, I could discover what the attraction was all about. I walked over towards the pay phone in the corner chuckling to myself. That's when it struck me that he'd called me by my name-Danny. Did I know him? He really did look familiar....

The phone rang ten times before someone answered at Bernie's. When someone did pick up, they were so out of breath I had to wait a couple seconds for a "hello". Then I remembered what type of establishment this was---all the employees probably looked like the guy I'd just met. Well, if for no other reason, they could hire me to answer the telephone. I smiled. It turned out to be Bernie himself on the line. Before I had a chance to say "Hello", or introduce myself, Bernie cheerfully announced: "Danny! Joe said you'd be calling! When can you start?" I was stunned. I stammered out, "B-but you don't even know me!" "I don't have to!" was his amiable reply. "Anybody that Joe picks will work out fine!" I didn't have the guts to tell him that I had no idea who the hell "Joe" was, but then maybe he was an old friend of my family's. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially from such a large horse!

Bernie's Big and Tall was in a little strip mall just outside of the city. It took me two maps and three detours to find it. I almost gave up, but something told me to keep looking. A small card shop on one side and a bakery on the other flanked the store, and were the only other establishments in the complex. I was sure the employees at the Big and Tall kept the bakery in business because it was too far away from anything else to have a regular clientele. The store itself was rather unimpressive: a sign painted on the window proclaimed "Bernie's" with a silhouette of a rotund man underneath. A couple of half dummies sat dejectedly in the window--the clothing which covered them obviously too large for their frames. The one rather curious and slightly impressive item was the door to the front of the shop. It was huge. Much larger than the doors in most retail establishments, it must have been custom made for Bernie's king-size clientele. What did it feel like to need extra room for everything? When I put my hand on the handle to push the door open, I got the strangest feeling that if I stepped across the threshold of this place, my life would change forever. "This is ridiculous!" I remember thinking to myself "It's just a job for goodness sakes!" I pushed the door open and went in.

Lone Star's "I'm Already There" was playing on a far off country music station as the bell over the door gave a little tinkle. The place had that slightly musky perfume of your grandfather's closet-that subtle scent of fine pipe tobacco and Old Spice. The shop was much bigger than it seemed from the outside, and had a second level with a balcony and offices that overlooked the showroom floor. For a moment, I felt as if I was on a sound stage for "Land Of The Giants"-everything seemed oversized. From the racks that were set up for the tallest of the tall, to the suits that looked like they were made for Guinness Book Fattest Man nominees. All were neatly hung on rotating racks or show room displays. I'd never worked retail, but somehow I felt right at home. From above boomed a lusty voice: "Danny!". I looked up to find a large man leaning on the steel railings of the balcony. It didn't seem possible, but he was even bigger than Joe from the unemployment office. Every part of him was fat-from his puffy hairstyle, to his big feet. He looked like a balloon character from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I half expected to see wires attached to him with people below maneuvering him. "Bernie?" I queried and his hearty laugh confirmed it. "None other my boy! Come on up!"

Bernie's office was at the top of the stairs. As I bounded up, two at a time, Bernie let out a chuckle "That's something you don't see many of our salesmen do!" He ushered me ahead of him and I walked through another enormous door to find myself in a small room, made smaller by its furnishings. It consisted of a small oak desk, and a computer-standard office fare. However, the large refrigerator, stand-alone pantry, coffee maker and microwave were not. "Before we begin, may I offer you something to eat?" Bernie asked, already carefully maneuvering his way around the desk to the refrigerator. It was somewhat surreal watching this super-sized man practically squeeze his way through the cramped quarters. He opened the refrigerator to reveal a small deli: meats of all kinds, exotic breads and cheeses, beverages ranging from soft-drinks to fine wines, all carefully stocked within its quarters. Bernie rummaged through, and pulled out an overstuffed submarine sandwich and began munching. His grunts of pleasure permeated the office, and instead of revulsion, I actually enjoyed watching this man eat with such gusto. For so many years, I had deprived myself of some of my favorite foods in exchange for the washboard stomach that I possessed. Maybe, if I worked here, I could live vicariously through these guys. My internal reverie ended with Bernie's voice. "Well at least share a cup of coffee with me. I hate nourishing myself alone." I smiled my assent and Bernie squeezed his way to the coffeepot. I was not a big coffee drinker, but I figure a little kiss up wouldn't hurt my job prospects any. Besides, for some reason the coffee smelled particularly delicious.

Bernie produced two mugs-each with the Big and Tall logo I had seen on the front door of the shop. "How do you take yours?" he cooed. "Black" I answered. "Well you must indulge me one small addition to your mug…I make my own blend of spices that seem to really liven up the coffee-nothing much, just some cinnamon and vanilla. Stuff like that. You're not allergic to anything are you? I told him no, and he took a small packet from the standing pantry, tapped it lightly on the desk, tore the corner and emptied the contents into my cup. The granules looked like Folgers Crystals-little flecks of something shiny danced and fell gracefully into the mug. Bernie took a small silver spoon and began stirring the coffee. The aroma was like nothing I had smelled before. Memories of big Sunday breakfasts and hearty Thanksgiving dinners suddenly became as vivid as if they'd happened yesterday. Nights spent eating cotton candy and funnel cake at the local carnival-laughing with my friends and gorging on hotdogs-all seemed palpable. Bernie brought the mug close to my nostrils and placed my hands around it. "Drink, my boy. And then we can talk about your joining us at BB&T."

Almost mesmerized, I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. The beans of the coffee blended with the spices and my taste buds seemed to spring to new life. The thoughts of all of the goodies I had denied myself over the years began to turn into a craving, then a hunger. I could feel my stomach began to growl for food. I had grabbed a McMuffin when I'd left the unemployment office, but that had been several hours ago. It was natural for me to feel starved. But in the middle of a job interview? I had to eat something. As if on cue, Bernie produced an enormous plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Have one?" Bernie again cajoled. "I--I--…" I stuttered, but no other words would come out. The cookies looked like manna from heaven. I could feel the drool forming on my tongue. I grabbed one and placed it in my mouth. It melted like butter, blending with the coffee and exploding my senses like an orgasm. My crotch leapt, writhing with the rise and fall of my breath. I came up for air, took another cookie and a sip of the coffee. Again, the exact same sensation-yet more intense. I thought I was going to erupt right then and there. I gulped more of the drink and began inhaling the pastries with lightening speed. In less then ten minutes the entire plate was empty. The wildest thing of all…I was still hungry!

I looked up at Bernie, who was standing over me with a knowing smile. "It's always better to talk on a full stomach." He went to the refrigerator and pulled out another overstuffed submarine sandwich-twice the size of the one he'd just eaten. "Are you sure I can't tempt you with one of these?" My mouth opened automatically, and Bernie floated over and placed the monstrous hoagie in my hands. I tore into it as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. In between bites, Bernie suggested that we carry our meeting to The Blue Whale, a restaurant frequented by he and his staff. As I rose to go, onions and lettuce falling everywhere, Bernie touched the intercom on his desk. "All right boys…" the echo of his voice could be heard in the showroom below "…time for our foray to The Blue Whale! Close up shop!" In between munching, I could hear, and feel great activity from the floor below. The floor vibrated much like it had done in the unemployment office. We moved out of the office and onto the balcony to a sight that would have sent my old faggy friends into a tizzy. Below were five of Bernie's staff-each one plumper than the next. They stood at attention as we came down the stairs. Bernie introduced me to each, ending with their newest salesman, Dominic. He had to weigh at least 350 pounds. "This is our baby!" Bernie gushed, pinching Dominic's flushed cheek. "Been with us about a year" he poked Dominic's round middle. "He's starting to fit in quite nicely." Bernie lumbered towards the door, pulling me along with him. "Daniel here will be joining us for lunch-and hopefully more. Make him feel at home." And still in a spin from all that had happened since walking through the doors of Bernie's Big & Tall, I was off to The Blue Whale.

The Blue Whale was quite nice--muted tones of aqua and gray gave it warmth and style. A Bach concerto whispered softly as Bernie and the other salesmen took their seats. We had been ushered to a table in a private area of the restaurant--one large enough for the substantial girth of our party. It was obvious that Bernie and the gang were regulars, because all of the wait-staff knew everyone by name. It was also pretty obvious that time that the entire staff of Bernie's was gay. Underneath a curtained archway, a cadre of handsome waiters looked ready to break into a chorus of "Hello Dolly". They giggled and whispered as if they were dance hall girls anxious to see which gentleman would pick them out of the crowd. The headwaiter, who looked to be about Bernie's size, clapped the others to attention. "Don't just stand there like a bunch of schoolgirls! Take these gentlemen's orders!" he barked. "Oh Jacques," Bernie cooed "...just bring us our usual!"

I was returning to normal, my appetite assuaged and my pants screaming to be unzipped-my distended belly playing hide and seek with the buttons on my shirt. It was time to ask about hours and pay, and all the standard stuff. As I opened my mouth to get down to business, the first of the waiters arrived with the appetizers. There was enough food to feed a small city. Plate upon plate of mouth watering delicacies passed before the table: shrimp wrapped in bacon, small puff pastries stuffed with creams and cheeses and meats-anything that I had ever seen at fancy buffets was now being placed under my nose. I thought of the spectacle I must have made in Bernie's office, and my stomach began to turn. The thought of more food was making me nauseous. And then the coffee arrived. Jacques himself brought out the ornate samovar and ushered it towards Bernie. "Monsieur Bernie" he chimed. "Ze coffee wis your special mix eez ready". As Jacques opened the spigot and poured the first cup, the table went silent. Unbelievably I could feel my stomach loosen. I could feel the insatiable hunger I had felt in Bernie's office return. It was as if I had never eaten the mound of cookies. Just the aroma of the incredible liquid wafting into my nostrils was enough to make me want to stuff something in my mouth. All around me, the other men were having a similar reaction. I remember seeing episodes of "Wild Kingdom" with sharks or packs of wolves in a feeding frenzy. There was a primitive ritual about to happen, and everyone knew it. As the coffee was passed around, Dominic, began to sweat. When a cup made it to him, he grabbed it, and chugged down the hot liquid as if it were the first drink of a dehydrated man. He then grabbed the nearest tray of hors d'oeuvres and began shoveling them into his mouth. Sweat glistened on his brow as he tipped the tray up and up until he was literally swallowing and chewing almost simultaneously. A waiter quickly scurried over and began wiping his brow and massaging his hardening belly. I sat in awe as I watched each of the sales guys fall into the same kind of trance-that is until my cup reached me.

I recall one of the adventures of Homer's "Odyssey", in which Odysseus and his men encounter the witch Circe. Once on her island, she turns most of the men into animals. Bernie had led his men into the modern day version of that adventure. I don't remember much about the rest of that meal. As my haze parted from time to time, I was aware of grunts and moans of pleasure coming from around the table. Slurping and guzzling and licking were followed by burps and the occasional button pop or zipper pull being loosened. Halfway through the fourth course, everyone abandoned silverware and began eating off of plates and trays with their hands and mouths. I found myself caressing and licking the gravy off of plates as if it were a lover. No mouthful seemed enough-I couldn't get the food in fast enough, and the sounds and sights around me seemed to urge me on. By dessert, each man was no longer able to feed himself. The waiters took over and began shoveling whipped cream, cakes and pies into our dazed faces. I can't tell you how much I ate, but I literally couldn't move. My belly was as hard as a ripe cantaloupe and I closed my eyes and slept.

When I awoke, the entire table had been cleared off. Any trace of the feeding frenzy had been wiped away, and all of the men had been cleaned up and were groggily coming to themselves. If it weren't for the screaming pain coming from my stomach, I would have thought it all a dream. Standing above me was a beaming Bernie. "I hope you got enough to eat." The boys and I do this at least three or four times a week. Don't worry about the bill…I take care of that." I sat up and blinked. I couldn't believe this was happening. Bernie handed me a packet of papers-the standard Human Resources forms to fill out along with information about my salary and benefits. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw how much I'd be making. It was at least five times what I would have made at the "Y". How could he afford to pay for all of this? Bernie saw my reaction. He said "Don't worry, this salary is only temporary. With raises and incentives you'll quadruple it in no time. So do we have a deal?" Was he crazy? I propped myself up on my swollen stomach and shook his hand. "On one condition" I said. He cocked his fat head and his chins wobbled. "What's that, my dear boy?" "That you give me some of that coffee to take home"

In the beginning, everything went along pretty normally. The store practically ran itself. And I was more than content--I was happy. The first time I noticed something different was after my initial lunch with the guys. The next few days, I was ravenous. I ate from morning till night. And I craved the coffee with the secret ingredient introduced to my by Bernie. One morning, about a week after I had started working, I rolled out of bed and began getting ready for work. Sleepily I showered, shaved, and stumbled into my clothing. I stepped into my dress slacks and pulled them to my waist. They wouldn't close. With my swimmer's lifestyle, I had been a perfect size 32 for years. I never had to worry about putting on weight. I went to the scale in the bathroom and stepped on. Since I had begun working at the store, I had put on ten pounds! "Not acceptable." I thought to myself. I sucked in my stomach, fastened my pants and made a mental note to go to the gym more often and most importantly--to cut out lunching with the guys. But somehow neither thing seemed to happen--I was constantly working until after the gym closed. And not going to lunch with the Bernie and the gang became as unthinkable as not having cup after cup of the delicious mysterious coffee. I began to have strange dreams: I would dream I was in the middle of Africa in the bush country, taking pictures of wildlife, when the earth would begin to shake. Suddenly an enormous Bull Elephant the size of a building would come crashing through the tall grasses and block the sun. I was terrified until it would dawn on me that I was the Elephant! Then, understanding my power, I began breaking down trees, even mountains--growing more enormous with each new conquest. After one of these dreams, I would always wake in a sweat, run to the kitchen, and raid the refrigerator--absent-mindedly eating until I was sleepy.

After about three months of this, I could no longer hide the results. I tried to wear my size 32 pants until they had all systematically exploded off of my frame. My suit jackets had begun cutting off the circulation in my arms, and my old shirts were laughable on my new frame. Between the daily lunches, midnight binges, and very little gym time, I had gone from 180lbs, to 230. My pants size had gone from the perpetual 32 to a 42.

One night, about a week before my 30th birthday, I tiptoed into the bathroom when I thought Sean was sleeping. I took off my clothes and stepped in front of the full-length mirror. My face was so round! I was beginning to develop a pronounced double chin. My thighs and ass were full and big, and my stomach was beginning to grow into this ball of soft flesh. And my tits! I remembered my high school gym teacher teasing Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor: two fat kids in my class. He used to call their soft round mammaries "man-tits", kidding them about having bigger ones than most of the girls, (which was true). I used to find those two guys fascinating: the way they lumbered onto the field for class, the way they looked in the showers. I knew I was gay back then, but it was something more than that. And here I was with my own set of "man-tits". I touched the right nipple, and then the left--crossing my arms and inadvertently giving myself cleavage. Electricity shot through my entire body. My nipples had become so sensitive! Caught in my exploration, it took me a moment to realize that my lover Sean was standing behind me. He had come in to use the toilet and noticed me in the mirror. "You're fat," he said as he sleepily relieved himself, kissed me on my chubby cheek and padded back to bed. He was right. I WAS fat. But looking in the mirror, I wasn't sure that was a bad thing. I touched my nipples again and headed for the kitchen.

The next day at work, Bernie and the guys threw me a birthday party and presented me with two gifts. The first was a container of the special ingredient for my coffee, and the next was a new suit from the store. It was the first size that we carried for big men. I was still a size or two away from needing to shop at Bernie's and had decided to keep it that way. "No offense guys...", I said, "...but I plan on never wearing clothes from our store!" "Well we can always get it taken in." Bernie quickly replied. "We just wanted to show you how glad we are that you're here. Now cut the cake and have some coffee!" I declined the cake, but I had 3 cups of coffee. That evening determined to change my eating habits for my 30th year on this planet, I took off early and headed for the gym. On the way, I passed restaurant after restaurant, fast food joint after fast food joint. I kept thinking to myself, "You've got to lose weight." Yet every time I would ask myself "Why?" I couldn't come up with a good enough answer. Until I thought of Sean's comment in the bathroom: "You're fat!" "You could lose him", I thought. I steadied myself and pointed the car in the direction of the gym. When suddenly, a little voice spoke to me: "But if you go to the gym right now, you could lose YOU." Suddenly I was starving. I turned into a Kentucky Fried Chicken, ordered a 20-piece bucket, and ate the whole thing in the car.

When I got home, Sean had prepared a huge meal of pasta, fresh bread and salad. Even after my trek to the Colonel's, I wolfed down plate after plate. Sean announced that he had news--good and bad. The good news was that he had landed a choice modeling assignment with a top agency. The bad news was that the agency was out of the country and he would be gone for at least 5 months! I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to scream, "It's me isn't it? I'll lose the weight! Don't go!" But instead, I stuffed some more food in my mouth and hugged him tightly. I loved him too much to stand in his way. And if he found someone else with a swimmer's build who made him happy...so be it. Sean had to leave the day before my birthday. As he hugged me before he boarded the plane, he whispered, "See you later fat boy", in my ear and walked away. And I knew I'd never see him again. When I got home, I pulled out the suit Bernie and the guys had given me and put it on. I looked like a kid playing dress up. Even though I was working on a size 44 waist, the pants had to be at least a 46. I thought of Sean and suddenly felt free. I sat down with a mixing bowl of Captain Crunch and heavy cream and imagined myself filling out the pants.

What happened next is all a blur. Knowing that I had lost Sean, I poured myself into my work and my food. Both satisfied me intensely. The store was doing great business. It seemed that the more I ate, the more productive I became. I was growing daily. Every time I turned around, a button would pop or a zipper would break. I began to carry around safety pins to keep my clothes up--it became a running joke around the store. The guys who used to seem enormous to me suddenly began to look average. I became the star at the Blue Whale. The waiters would line up to be my encourager and with Sean gone, I used their attention to help me forget about Sean. Bernie, who was no slouch at the dinner table, would watch me in amazement as I polished off plate after plate of entrée after entrée with all the trimmings, the servers massaging my distended belly and cooing at my appetite. Then go to work on the dessert cart. I stood in the mirror more often now. I was officially fat by anyone's standards. My face was so round that sometimes I wouldn't recognize myself. Because I was constantly lifting heavy boxes, my arms were huge and firm, as was my chest. But my stomach became my favorite area. I would hang out at the bar around the corner from my apartment and drink beer after beer to the amazement of all the guys. I started wearing suspenders because no pants it seemed would hold my ever growing gut.

In the first month after Sean left, I put on 35 lbs. I tipped the scales at around 265. From then on, not a waking (or sleeping) moment went by that I didn't eat something. I even took food breaks in the store. Bernie was right about the suit I was given for my birthday--I DID have to have it altered...eventually it had to be let out--twice! Sean would call and we would have stilted conversations. He would ask me if I was still gaining weight, and I would avoid talking about it. He would tell me he loved me, but I knew it was just talk. The company had extended his contract--he didn't know when he'd be back. Every now and then, I would get a postcard from some exotic place saying, "Having a Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here". But I was too busy to notice. I was becoming the Elephant of my dream. I could feel my power.

In the next few months, I surpassed all store sales records, and there was big talk of a promotion to store manager. Except for the prospect of leaving this location, I couldn't have been happier. At least, when I wasn't thinking about Sean. The 5 months had quickly become 8 and then 10. In that time, my physical gain had become as impressive as my professional one. In the year since I had begun working at Bernie's, I had gone from 180 to 380 lbs. My waist had gone from a 32 to a 62. I was beginning to make earthquakes of my own.

One night I awakened from a dream (in which my stomach broke through the walls of the Empire State Building) by a voice in the darkness. "My God! You're huge!" it was Sean's voice. He was standing over the bed. He sounded different somehow. My first instinct was to grab him with my big arms and engulf him in my newfound mountain of flesh and warmth. But anger quickly welled up inside of me and I sat up in bed--the third empty large pizza box falling off of my stomach. "Yes I am." I said proudly, "You got something to say about it?" "Yes..." he said-I could hear the smile in his voice as he moved closer. "We are going to need a bigger bed." And with that, he turned on the light. My mouth dropped. When Sean left, he had been a 6 foot 1 inch, 170 lb. cover boy: now standing before me was a 6 foot 1 inch, 285 lb. (he told me later) gorgeous Buddha. His round face now covered with a lush beard. It was obvious that he was gaining weight faster than he could buy clothes to fit him: the T-shirt he was wearing wouldn't fit over the big round belly protruding over his tight size 48 jeans. "How?!...Why?" I stammered. "By eating dummy!" he laughed. "And I have a feeling that the delicious stuff I borrowed from you to put in my coffee helped". "But I thought you didn't like me fat!" I was almost crying now. Sean sat on the edge of the bed--which groaned under the over 600 pounds of us. I could see how horny he was as his great stomach heaved. "You never asked. You just assumed I wouldn't want a fat lover. I loved watching you pig out. I'd come in the bedroom after you'd gorge and jack off. Didn't you notice how intense our love-making got after you started putting on weight?" "I thought you were over-compensating because you loved me." I said. "Of course I love you Danny, but not in spite of how much you weigh-your size turns me on! I want you as big as a house!", was his breathless reply as he kissed me full on the lips. "And I hope you're ready for me to join you." He took off his shirt to reveal burgeoning man-tits and the most beautiful belly I had ever seen. He straddled me, opened my robe and began exploring my under-belly, kissing it and licking lower and lower. I felt hungry and horny at the same time as I pulled him to my crotch. We broke the bed that night.

T hat was three years ago. When I waddled into work the next day, I was beaming. Sean and I made love all night, and then spent the entire morning eating the breakfast to end all breakfasts. During which, he told me of his adventures in Europe. He spent the first few months pining over me-not eating, not sleeping. Once he began drinking the coffee, his appetite returned and he immediately found solace in food and proceeded to eat himself out of his misery. Of course this began to show on his waistline, and after a month, he was let go from his modeling contract. As luck would have it, a photographer on the shoot also worked with a new European catalogue designed for big men. He introduced Sean to the head of the company and the rest was history. Sean spent the remainder of the tour eating and posing in the finest cities of the Old World. He really had a wonderful time and wished desperately that I had been there. We decided to get married and spend our honeymoon eating our way through all of the spots he had discovered in his travels.

When Bernie saw me, he sensed the change immediately. "My boy, either you had sex last evening, or discovered that Little Debbie delivers-which was it?" We were in his office, munching on crullers. We had positioned ourselves so as to be able to reach the refrigerator and standing pantry without moving: we had become so large that it was impossible for the two of us to move around. "Both" I laughed. I told him of Sean's return, and of his amazing transformation. I told him that my life was complete: I had a job I loved, and a partner whom I adored. Bernie smiled, and in it, I thought I caught a hint of bittersweet sadness. "Well then," he said. "…my job is done." And he immediately began opening drawers, removing papers and stuffing them in a nearby briefcase. Stunned, I spattered out "What are you doing?"- crumbs spewing across my white shirt. Bernie smiled, and calmly explained. "I am a business man my dear. I have many other BB&T locations to check on. Joe, the man you met at the unemployment office, is my lover. He's already gone off to our store in Portland, and now I can join him. We needed to find a manager for this store that we could depend on and trust to carry on my traditions. We found him." He reached over and patted my stomach, which was wedged against his desk. "But…but…" I searched for words. How could I tell this man that he had become my mentor, my father-my friend! I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind. "But where will I get more of Bernie's Secret Mix for my coffee?" Bernie laughed "make it yourself darling-I told you, it's just cinnamon and vanilla." I stared at him blankly. "But what about the secret ingredient? The stuff that makes us so ravenous?" Bernie chortled "The secret ingredient my boy, is you."

I looked down at myself. At 400 lbs., my 4X dress shirt was already gapping in the front around my stomach. People moved out of my way when they saw me coming because of my size. My whole world had become food-I expressed myself in how much I indulged. Was Bernie saying that this had been my destiny all along. I thought back to High School-to Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor-to the big men who would intrigue me when I was with my friends. I realized, not only did I want to HAVE them, I wanted to BE them. And now I was. I guess he was right: it was in me all the time.

So now I run Bernie's Big & Tall Store #836. We consistently bring in the highest revenues of any in the chain. We also have the fattest staff. I've had my offices expanded to include a full kitchen, and have hired my favorite chef and waiters from the Blue Whale to prepare in house meals for my staff. I surpassed Bernie's weight about a year ago, and am so fat that I had to install a freight elevator to get to the second floor, because the steps are impossible for me to maneuver. I am fast approaching Guinness Book proportions. As for Sean-he now models for Bernie's catalogue. He quickly outgrew the standard sizes, and a new super-size line was developed. Sean also recruits new employees for the store. He now tips the scale at over 500lbs., and is the most beautiful roly-poly thing I've ever seen. So you see, dreams come true in the strangest places. Who would have ever thought that I would find my life's calling in an unemployment line? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to interview a potential salesman that Sean found, and I have to brew some coffee.

By the way…are YOU looking for work?

The End.

#CCstories #f #fatbrwncub

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ampreh · 4 months

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[TRF] Norma II

• Related to this : The Rust Factory - Norma (<- comics)

• Related to this : The Rust Factory - Norma (<- comics) I had SO much fun doing the vintage style of flash backs and imagination: I would have kicked myself for ignoring this very impactful style for its time.

Audrey pic: Context - Extract from the 2022 RP "It was the story of a corporate that had made a great scientific revolutionary invention! It was called D-Sire, a simple, medicated, fabulous everyday object that people couldn't live without. But during the process of improving the product, which was intended to target wider markets to make more profit, the D-Sire had unfortunately gone awry, causing a great catastrophe unparalleled among mankind. All cities had been wiped off the map, leaving only willless mutant humans and animals. The heroine had to flee her city, survive and fight her way back to the creator of the D-sire, who had abandoned his company and changed his identity. Coal was terrified of this cheap soap opera with its terrible special effects made of modelling clay and the saturated offbeat sound of the black-and-white picture on the small TV screen." A more than obvious reference to the AU Truffula Flu. And a huge reference to @audtreegrace, @miru667 's character. So of course, I don't have all the context since it's a vast AU with lots and lots of details, but I've got enough of a basis for my friends to recognize and that's good enough for me :> Nathan has already confused Audrey Grace with Audrey, the actress from their series HAHA. Alas, the Audrey and Ted of his world won't be born for several years. He didn't find the actress, but he did find a good friend with whom to talk for hours about anything and everything ♥

Norma Bellini pic: Well, Norma pin-up, because why not! In vintage calendar mode, because I love vintage aesthetics. And yes, those are the right dates I went to check on good old calendars haha. At first I wanted to do it in a swimsuit, but then I preferred the picnic. I love picnics.

Too big to fail pic: I had to do it! Of course I had to! The only time I've redone such an iconic portrait was for the first version of Cashtea-ler in the Let It Flow fanzine, in 2022 (I should do a new one with his new head). Nathan Cole (@1940s-onceler | @nalak-bel 's), in black and white in his best soot-colored suit!

Compilation : Just Normaler, to appreciate Normaler. On a more serious note, I like the idea that Nathan was guided throughout his first times by ladies, and not the reverse. I love this not-so-little whining man.

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max1461 · 4 months

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Current debate being hosted on @triviallytrue's blog involving @metamatar and @centrally-unplanned is interesting to me on a meta-level. @metamatar, a Marxist, offers what I think would usually be called a "materialist" explanation for US support of Israel: the United States gets strategic benefits out of its relationship with Israel and thus wants to keep them as an ally. @centrally-unplanned, a rationalist-adjacent(?) liberal of some sort, offers what I think would usually be called an "idealist" explanation: the US supports Israel against its own rational self-interest for ideological and domestic political reasons. Triv, a left-liberal, takes an intermediary position.

Using the terms "materialist" and "idealist" in this way has certain Marxist undertones that I don't necessarily endorse, and is maybe not even technically accurate for one reason or another, but I just needed some quick and recognizable terms in which to frame the debate. Forgive me for this.

One way or another, I have some up-my-own-ass and navel-gazatory things to say about the discussion.

I don't know a whole lot about the US's relationship with Israel on an object level. But on the basis of my priors I lean towards the materialist explanation. I think this reflects, ironically, a kind of liberal view of human nature: I model people (and organizations) as basically self-interested and rational agents, at least to a rough approximation. But I have a fairly dim view of where this leads us. I think that rational self-interest often results in murder and plunder and cold-hearted slaughter, and indeed the notion that humans are approximately rational and self-interested agents comports well with the fact that the world today and for all of known history has been characterized by murder and plunder and cold-hearted slaughter. My default assumption is therefore that, again to a first approximation, whatever is going on between the US and Israel is another instance of this.

On the other hand, I think it's interesting that the idealist explanation is here favored by a liberal, although it suggests perhaps a less "liberal" view of human nature. Under this explanation humans are foolish, driven by irrationality, ideology, and superstition, to work against their own material interests. Ok, the putative politicians supporting Israel for domestic political reasons are acting in their own self-interest, but the voters to which they cater are evidently not! Naively this view might seem a bit at odds with a liberal political philosophy, but I don't think it really it. Especially in this case, where the belief that US support of Israel is driven by irrationality and superstition actually serves to rescue the notion of rational self-interest from what otherwise might look like a mark on its good name. It allows one to avoid the conclusion that the rational pursuit of self-interest has lead the US to complicity in a genocide, which is not a very fun conclusion to reach if you endorse a political philosophy that at some level valorizes the rational pursuit of self-interest.

All in all, what is my point? I don't really have a point. I don't think this kind of psychoanalysis of others' political opinions is a very useful endeavor. I suppose I'm saying precisely nothing: the leftists in this discussion have taken up a position that indicts rational self-interest, the liberals have taken up a position that exculpates it, the centrists have taken a middling position—everyone has behaved in exactly the way our cheap psychoanalysis of them suggests they would. Nothing has been learned about the world (in this post, I mean), because although we see that the participants in the discussion are making arguments that suit their ideologies, we cannot tell which direction the causality runs. And nothing has been learned about the participants in the discussion because this kind of psychoanalysis is a crock of shit.

Keep on posting, everybody.

#navel gazing

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trojanteapot · 1 year

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Infinity Train Boots!

Made these a while back as part of my Simon cosplay, must have been almost a month, but I didn't post the process!

(EDIT: hey I did some fixing up of my cosplay which you can see here in this post!)

Not actually sure if anybody would care because it's so niche, unlike my Spider-Gwen suit, but I did write about how I did the Infinity Train harpoon pack, so I'll discuss this too!

STEP 0: Acquire reference pictures:

Yep, pretty straightforward.

Note that Simon's boots have an extra bar/strap thingy, whereas Ryan and Min-Gi's do not.

I didn't include it because it kinda looks ugly and I didn't know how fragile the strap might be.

NEXT!

STEP 1: Acquire Boots!

I got these MIA boots from Journeys Canada. They only cost around 60 bucks which is a bit pricey for cosplay, but I'm not about to go thrift shopping when I'm in a time crunch and I can just order online and get free delivery within 2 days. (Also these days 60 bucks for boots from a retail store is considered cheap. Inflation is nasty.)

They came with these cardboard thingies inside to keep the structure of the boots. They have "left" and "right" written on them in Chinese which was helpful for me when I got a bit confused about which side was which.

Save those for later. You'll need them.

STEP 2: Paint the soles silver

Literally any acrylic silver paint works. May take several layers. Make sure to put masking tape around the top edge of the soles.

I didn't use a primer on the base but you probably should. Any white acrylic paint or Gesso would do and you wouldn't need like 8 coats of silver. Do as I say not as I do.

And make sure to seal everything with a varnish or mod podge!

Here are also the cut toe caps and some silver craft foam. The craft foam was kind of a mistake I'll get into it soon.

STEP 3: Make toe caps

Here's me making sure the placement is good.

I glued the craft foam onto the cardboard caps, and then I was thinking "well the little bit hanging over it isn't going to be a problem, nope! I'll just glue them down and it'll blend right in!"

HAHAHAHA. WRONG.

STEP 3.1: Fuck up the toe caps because you were winging this and you have no idea how crafting materials work you idiot

GROSS. DISGUSTING. VILE.

The hot glue melted the craft foam and now it's got this weird melty edge all around it that's all goopy and shit. Anyway you dont want your boots to look fucked up, you want them to look smooth like polished steel, or whatever they were made of in the show.

STEP 3.2: Fix toe caps

Everything can be fixed with Model Magic and acrylic paint! (and seal your paint with a sealant again!)

I just took some model magic (a type of lightweight air dry clay from Crayola, the cheapest you can get. Other more legit craft supply brands make similar materials as well), and squished it into the ugly bits, making a mostly seemless transition from craft foam to clay to sole.

TIP: to make model magic smooth before sanding, dab your fingers in some water to smooth it out! This also works for Paperclay as well if you decide to use a more higher end type of air dry clay.

STEP 4: Make the back metal thing that goes around the heel

So I did this kinda in tandem with the toe caps which is why the pics will look a little out of order but essentially, I took the parts of the cardboard that I cut off, and I cut them in half, put some other cardboard in between, and then sandwiched the thing in metallic craft foam.

This time it was a bit more successful because I was able to hide the weird gross melted edges on the inside. Also paint that shit silver!

Now you can glue the "heel caps(?)" directly to your boots, but I decided to use stick-on velcro instead so they're kinda removable, and may be easier to transport or clean or something? ehhh.

STEP 5: Make those handle things

So I also hit a bit of a snag with these. I ordered EVA foam dowels with a semi-circle cross-section as well as a triangular one, but I quickly realized they would be too flimsy sticking out like that unless I put something hard in between them.

So this isn't pictured, but I got some thin crafting wire from Dollarama and just bent them into L shapes, and glued the smaller dowels around them. I also shoved them into the bigger down and glued it down.

You can also see from these pictures that that leaves a weird gap in between the smaller dowels. Again I just used model magic to cover them up. There's probably a better solution but this was the one I went with.

I also lengthened the top "handle" part eventually because it looks better that way. (Please ignore the mess on my desk >_<)

Then I just paint them silver like everything else!

COMPLETE!

The nut and bolts are actual nuts and bolts. Since the base was just craft foam and cardboard, you can poke a hole in them easily and insert the bolt.

Hope you found this helpful! Or are just willing to indulge me and my notes on my silly crafting journey!

#cosplay #infinity train #infinity train cosplay #simon laurent #ryan akagi #min gi park #tutorial #crafting stuff #i have no idea what im doing #but it worked out #infinity train book 3 #infinity train book 4 #stuff i made #diy

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posletsvet · 9 months

Text

A bunch of JJK season 2 headcanons:

(because I had nothing else to occupy my mind with while on a train trip)

Nanami has a few stomach problems, so he's very mindful about his diet. He eats bread on his cheat days. He also has mild lactose intolerance.

If there's anybody in the series with a 'my body is a holy temple' attitude, it has to be Gojo. He never smokes and rarely drinks because of that. Others used to make fun of him for 'being a princess with such delicate tastes', but he certainly did use it to his advantage by being insufferably annoying after parties/celebrations. He ended up not being invited.

Shoko smokes to wind down, so she sticks to some pleasant flavours. Her favourite ones are cherry and coffee, and she gets annoyed with tobacco shop workers for confusing the latter with chocolate.

During school Shoko carries around a handful of sugarless candy or gum to chew on in order to resist a tobacco craving. Gojo makes a habit of stealing a couple or more from her.

Geto smokes to numb his senses, so he usually goes for nasty foul things, nothing fancy at all. He also buys cheap cigarettes because he doesn't like the prospect of spending too much money on it. Once Shoko tried to snatch a cigarette from him, but ended up putting it out without finishing.

Geto actually hates the smell of cigarette smoke, so he has a separate set of clothes for this purpose. Gojo doesn't like it either, and he whines about it every single time Geto goes for a smoke because that means he can't hang out with him without smelling it.

Adults in Geto's life are usually fond of him, especially his past teachers, and his reputation of a model student is important to him. This is partly because his previous classmates tended to treat him as an outcast due to the rumors around him.

Haibara comes from a rural area and still has a great share of childlike wonder towards everything around him. He's more than excited to live in the capital city.

Haibara has a bunch of older siblings as well as a younger sister. By some miracle, he manages to get along with everyone. You guessed it: he is the miracle.

Utahime's hair tie is actually Shoko's gift.

Utahime's hairstyle was something that inspired Shoko to grow out her hair. She started by growing out her bangs. Before that, she had worn a bob haircut for as long as she could remember. Her mom insisted on it -- she thought longer hairstyle wouldn't suit her as her hair was rather thin. Turned out it wasn't true.

Shoko was raised by a single mom.

Nanami pierced his right ear, then backlashed by becoming too self-conscious about it and grew out his hair to hide the piercing.

Gojo is effortlessly good at everything he puts his mind to. When he started seriously studying chemistry in order to further improve his Limitless, he turned to Shoko for help, but then turned out to be a frustratingly quick learner. She would idly throw things at him for it.

Geto is a morning person to the marrow of his bone. His habit of getting up early stems from his childhood when he used to do so in order to get a few spare hours just for himself. He took to mindlessly cleaning up his room back then as well -- as a means to relax by organizing his life at least a little bit and feel in control of it.

Geto also cooks pretty well and is used to looking after himself. He's not that much of a foodie, though, and at some point of his life struggled with an eating disorder. He relapses during the Premature Death arc.

As someone who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Gojo doesn't know what household chores even are. After he takes Megumi and Tsumiki under his care, for quite some time it doesn't even occur to him that doing all the housework by themself isn't a normal childhood activity for an eight-year-old.

Gojo tries to give Geto a sweet tooth by being obnoxious about Geto having his drinks sugar-free and trying to sneak sugar in his beverages. It results in Geto gradually taking to drinking his tea/coffee with just one piece of sugar. Gojo thinks it's a win.

Gojo forgets to buy presents every single time. Untill he brings Geto and Shoko ridiculously expensive gifts that one time when they came to the decision they're not buying anything for each other this once due to low budget.

Gojo is an albino and has very sensitive skin. (That's why he was wearing a hoodie in Okinawa!!) Moreover, if it wasn't for the Six Eyes, he would have poor eyesight.

Geto's skin tans very quickly in the summer and he gets freckles easily. He ends up burrowing Satoru's sunscreen a lot.

Haibara is the only dog person of the group.

Shoko was involved in the jujutsu world from pretty early on since her technique is so rare and so valuable practically -- therefore her laid-back and nonchalant attitude.

Gojo has a severe case of being touch starved. He's constantly leaning in somebody's personal space and initiates touch a lot. Usually Geto doesn't mind it, but on bad days it rather unnerves him as he sometimes just needs his privacy.

Utahime used to chew on her lips when deep in thought or feeling nervous, and that made wearing lipstick a problem. She broke that habit after graduation as she started to gain confidence.

Geto and Utahime have the best handwriting among the group. Geto's is more graceful, swift with prolonged fine lines, and Utahime's is smaller, neat and round and with a lot of curves. Nanami's letters are refined and tidy, but somewhat formal as if it's typed rather than written. Shoko has pleasant handwriting as well, but she usually writes really fast and doesn't care whether it's nice to look at or not. She's got messy notes only she herself can navigate through. Haibara's writing is almost childish, big and legible and somehow brings to mind the image of a smile. Gojo's writing is like chicken scratch honestly. He couldn't care less and finds it funny when it's impossible to read.

Haibara more often than not forgets his lunch money. Nanami and Geto are usually the ones who share with him when it happens. Afterwards Gojo always demands that Geto share with him as well.

Last but not least: Gojo has migraines from time to time. He claims that laying his head in Geto's lap is the only thing that helps him.

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piratefishmama · 1 year

Text

Crossing the Line | Part 12

Using the word ‘Conflicted’ for what Eddie was currently feeling was… an understatement. On the one hand, good lord he’d almost came in his jeans from just a tongue down his throat, a very very talented tongue belonging to a very very attractive man. On the other, that man had basically just pretended to like his music to get into his pants.

Eddie had never had that happen before. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

He did, however, know that he was ignoring the DM on Insta from that very same attractive man, the message full of blushy emojis and how he’d ‘forgotten’ to leave his number, dropping the digits right there in plain view.

He had Steve Harrington’s personal phone number. Holy shit.

He was ignoring it. Left it on read. Didn’t know what to do with it. If push came to shove and he made a decision in Steve’s favour then he’d just claim he was busy with the band at the shitty diner after the show. He stuffed a handful of lukewarm fries in his mouth, ketchup smearing the corners of his lips. If he decided against Steve then… he’d block him and forget all about him, and hope he wouldn’t show up at the coffee shop.

“I mean, if they were earplugs, then they were pretty shit earplugs, Eds” Gareth was the only one supplying a sound argument, he had ulterior motives though, he had bias to stick up for Steve! He was aiming to get the hell out of retail, and it showed.

“What?” Frank cut in with that expression on his face that blatantly said are you hearing this shit?

“I mean, he answered us all pretty easily, he had a full conversation with us! Didn’t even seem like he was struggling to hear us. Earplugs would have made it difficult to hear, right? Maybe they were something else!” All very valid points. Or… a very valid singular point.

“No he didn’t, dude, he vaguely responded to Jeff’s babbling, that he definitely could have vaguely heard through the earplugs, then left. I dunno about you but sometimes, I can definitely hear around earplugs, they’re probably just the cheap ones you get at the airport or something.”

“Dude what is your deal?”

“What’s my deal? Why are you so pro Steve Harrington?”

“He’s sick of Paul.” Jeff supplied helpfully around the straw of his chocolate milkshake.

“It’s Ralph, Paul quit last month remember?”

“Whaaatt Paul quit? Man what about him and Rhonda?"

“That’s why he quit! She got a promotion, and they couldn’t work toge—what am I even, this isn’t about Paul and Rhonda!”

“Shut up!!” Eddie’s outburst silenced the others, and also gained the attention of the drunk teens across the diner, they didn’t move though, stared for a second, before going back to their terrible ‘night out’ food. “What should I do?” He couldn’t make a decision on his own. There were too many what ifs, too many how dare he’s, too many thoughts and they were all so very loud. His friends talking over each other really wasn’t helping. “Should I… confront him? Should I just ask him about it, should I ignore him completely and hope he just goes away?”

“I think, you should talk to him.” Eddie looked up, the returning figure of the angel of Corroded Coffin, his original best friend, honorary band member. Chrissy. The girl carrying two shakes, followed closely by Nancy. “Listen, ignoring Gareth’s need to get away from retail, sorry Gare”

“It’s cool, I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Ignoring Jeff’s blatant hero worship.”

“He’s known worldwide, he did modelling in Japan, Chris! He’s a massive star!”

“And ignoring Frank’s scepticism.”

“The only sane person here you mean. Nobody recognised him tonight, Jeff, worldwide my ass.”

“Ignoring, them.” Chrissy sighed, placing hers and Nancy’s shakes down before climbing into the booth beside Eddie, Nancy following suit forcing him up against the wall. “I think you should give him a chance. He’s come all this way, he paid for tickets to see you even though he obviously didn’t have to. Did you talk to him while the others were out of the room?”

“Mhm”

“And did he talk back without any issue?”

“…Yeah.”

“Okay, so, these earplugs might not even be earplugs. There’s plenty of things that they could be! Hell, he could have issues with his eardrums for all we know! That’s pretty common in the music industry” loud instruments, huge speakers around you, he could have just been born with it for all they knew “—and there’s earplug looking things that help with eardrum issues, they could even be those sneaky 'invisible' hearing aids! You should talk to him, it’s the only way you’re gonna know for sure.”

“You just wanna flirt with his friend some more.”

“Frank I swear to god.”

“She’s right” Nancy sighed “try conjuring an ulterior motive for me you little shit.” Nancy levelled Frank with a sharp glare, he wisely chose to stay silent. She looked back to Eddie with a small smile “He spoke with me too, even over the music near the bar so I don’t think they were earplugs either. And you like him, right?”

“…I really do.” He hadn’t at first, he’d made assumptions, he’d jumped to conclusions, he’d let his music snobbery get the best of him, but then he did his research. Then he looked the guy up, his accomplishments, his skills, his general personality that shined like sunlight around the right people, he took what’d happened at the coffee shop into consideration, and then the kiss… his lips still tingled, his neck still tingled! His body still craved what’d been abruptly cut short. “He’s… he’s really nice, Nance…”

“Yeah, he seems really nice, and if he’s not? I have a revolver in my glove box.” Eddie let out a soft breath of a laugh, which lit Nancy’s face up as if she’d taken that as a personal victory. “Reply to the text, or DM, or whatever he’s sent you, I saw you looking at it on the way over here. Set something up and ask him when you get there, you’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

“…We’re supposed to be having dinner tomorrow night where he’s staying, just me and him.” And he was… so nervous didn’t seem quite the right word for how nervous he actually was. What would happen if he went? That kiss had turned filthy so quickly and he’d wanted it. He’d wanted it so badly, would tomorrow be the night? Should he prepare or—

“Great! Set up a time and find out the address.” Nancy didn’t even give him time to step onto the spiral. “It’ll be okay, we’re a call away if something goes wrong, or if he turns out to be an asshole, alright?”

“…Alright. Now let me dip my fries in your shake.”

“Ew, no!”

Part 14

#PirateWrites #crossing the line #Steddie #Ficlet #no upside down au #Nancy and Chrissy are honorary band members lmao

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molabuddy · 10 months

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i'm having Thoughts so. collection of headcanons about the different home planets in pikmin:

Hocotate - Everybody's favourite :] a small planet that's hot and arid all around, and a little bit boring in the flora and fauna department. Notable for brutal summers and so-so winters, an environment really only suited to growing its famous and unfathomably delicious vegetables.

Vegetable cultivation and shipping is its main industry, but it's also a notable manufactuer of sub-par, barely up to code BUT dirt cheap spacegear :]

(extra hc: while pikpik carrots (as well as hocotate onions, garlic and other veggies) can be cultivated on other planets, no matter how closely those other planets can simulate a hocotate climate, the resulting carrots are noticably different and less tasty. Botanists can't figure out why!)

Koppai - kind of an outsider planet in terms of its culture as well as its literal distance from its neighbours. On the outside, it looks very advanced, with sprawling modern cities, but as we know Koppai has been struggling with a food shortage for a while :(

Notable for leading advancements in space technology, as well as inventing the kopad - a model of tablet which quickly became the base for space travel squad tablets built and used all across the galaxy.

(under the cut = some pikmin 4 planets - minor spoilers abound?)

Giya - Home Planet of Shepherd, Russ and Colin, as well as the Rescue Corps HQ. a Big planet, definitely in terms of population and industry, possibly even in terms of literal size.

Its a major hub of space travel facilities and technology, as well as a big hub for planetary immigration! Lots of people from other planets move there, so its got a very diverse population. It also has a large variety of climates as well as flora and fauna (Giya is generally a very "earth-like" planet I think)

Ohri - Home Planet of Dingo and Yonny (though both probably live on Giya most of the time.) A planet famous for its extreme climates both hot and cold, and the abundent and occasionally deadly wildlife in every nook of the planet barring the most developed cities

Ohrians(?) are very passionate about the natural habitats on the planet, and many places have remained protected and undisturbed, but it means that off-planet tourists and Ohri locals alike are just one wrong turn away from danger.

(extra hc: the reigon Yonny grew up in is notable for its poisonous creatures. he discovered his love of medicine while being taught how to make remedies and antidotes by his mother)

#pikmin #pikmin 4

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andmaybegayer · 2 months

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Hello it's me with another very naive computer question!

One of the really common complaints you see about modern software (from Adobe, Microsoft, etc.) is the move from the single-purchase model to a subscription-based model. While I understand that people are upset about paying more money over time, this also feels like the only viable option for shipping products that work with modern OSes, especially Windows (I don't have any experience with MacOS). Windows pretty regularly updates, and if you want your product to continue to work, you have to continue paying your engineers to maintain compatibility through time.

Obviously I understand that there are lots of FOSS options out there, but for the companies that are built on making money from these sorts of software products, I don't see another way. Am I way off the mark here?

This is a really good question. I don't have a great answer, but the model I have in my head is that "traditional software distribution" is partially an artifact of an era where companies were starting to use computers but internet use was still spotty so providing support for software was just a very different ballgame. A lot of what I'm saying here is not like. Fact as much as it is my understanding of The Software Business from the side of someone who is a little involved in that but mostly not in that.

(This is mostly about "business software", that is to say, accounting packages, creative suites, design packages, modelling tools, etc. This model does not explain like. Spotify. But that's much easier to explain.)

You're not wrong that the subscription model really make sense given modern software development, where patches come out continuously and you get upgraded to the latest version every time something changes, but there has been a significant change in how software is developed and sold that makes it noticeably different. I think that the cause of this is mostly because it's finally practical to do contract-style deals with hundreds of thousands of customers instead of doing one-off sales like we used to do.

In the Traditional model you charge a pretty sizeable upfront cost for a specific version of the software, you buy Windows XP or Jasc Paint Shop 7 or whatever and then you get That Version until we release The Next Version, plus a couple years of security and support. When the next version hits, we stop adding any new features to your version, and when that hits end of life, you maybe get offered a discount to buy licensing for the latest version, or you drop out of support.

Traditional software with robust support typically costs an awful lot, Photoshop CS2 was $600 new in 2005, or $150 to upgrade from CS, because you're paying for support and engineering time in advance. A current subscription for just Photoshop is $20/mo, and that's after twenty years of inflation. Photoshop is also cheap, a seat for something like SolidWorks 2003 could probably have run you $3000-4000 easy. I can't even give you a better guess there because SolidWorks still doesn't sell single commercial licenses online, you have to talk to their salespeople.

The interesting thing to me about Traditional pricing was that I think it was typically offered to medium to small businesses or individuals, because it's an easy way to sell to smaller customers, especially if it's the 90's and you're maybe selling your software through an intermediary reseller who works with local businesses or just a store shelf.

Independent software resellers were a big business back in the day, they served as a go-between for the software company and smaller businesses, they sold prepared packages in a few sizes and handled the personal relationship of phoning you up and saying "Hey there's a patch for your accounting software so that it doesn't crash when someone's surname is Zero, we'll send you a floppy disk in the mail with some instructions on how to install it." Versioned standard releases are a thing you can put in a box and give to resellers along with a spec sheet and sales talking points. This business still exists but it's much smaller than it once was, it's largely gone upmarket.

If you were bigger, say, if you were a publishing house that needed fifty seats of editing software you'd probably call the sales department of Jasc or whoever and get a volume deal along with a support contract.

Nowadays why would you bother going through resellers and making this whole complicated pricing model when you could just sell subscriptions with well-established e-commerce tools. You can make contract support deals with individuals at scale, all online, without hiring thousands of salespeople. You can even provide varying support levels at multiple cost brackets directly, so you don't need to cultivate a direct business relationship with all your customers in order to meet their needs. Your salespeople handle the really big megacorp and government deals and you let everyone else administer themselves.

It also makes development easier. You can also deploy patches over the net, you just do it in software. You can obsolete older versions faster, since you can make sure most people are using the latest version, and significantly cut down on engineering time spent backporting fixes to older versions. I think a lot of this is straightforwardly desirable on most software.

Now, there are still packages sold by the version, and there are even companies selling eternal licenses.

Fruity Loops Studio is still a "Buy once forever" type deal.

MatLab can be purchased as a subscription or as a perpetual one-version license.

Windows is still sold like this, but also direct to customer sales of Windows are minimal, Windows is primarily sold to OEM's who preinstall it on everything.

But it's a dying breed, your bigger customers are going to want current support and while there are industries where people want to hang around on older versions, for a lot of software your customer wants the latest thing with all the features and patches, and they'd rather hold on to their money until later using a subscription rather than spend it all upfront. Businesses love subscriptions, they make accounts books balance well, they're the opposite of debt.

Personal/private users who might just want the features of Photoshop CS2 and that's fine forever don't matter to you. They're not your major customers. This kind of person is not a person who your business cares to service, so you don't really care if you annoy them.

Even in the Open Source business world, subscriptions are how the money is made, just on support rather than for the software itself. You can jump through relatively few hoops to run Ubuntu Enterprise or SUSE Enterprise Linux on your own systems for free, but really there's not much benefit to that unless you pay for the dedicated support subscription.

In many ways I think a lot of things have changed in this way, I have a whole thing about the way medium-scale industrial manufacturing has changed in the past thirty years somewhere around here.

While there are valid reasons you might want to buy a single snapshot of some software and run that forever, the reality is that that's a pretty rare desire, or at least that desire is rarely backed by money. If you want to do that you either need access to the source code so that you can maintain it yourself, or you need to strike a deal with someone who will, or it needs to be software so limited that it (and the system it runs on!) never need updates. Very few useful programs are this simple. As a result subscription models make sense, but until recently you couldn't really sell a subscription to small businesses and individuals. Changes in e-commerce and banking have enabled such contracts to be made, and hey presto, it's subscription world.

#kelp-of-discontent #ask #computer stuff #economics thunderdome

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