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#so heres some more self indulgent stuff
sketchy-tour · 3 months
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I love getting new followers after posting stand alone WH art because I sit here wondering how long until they get jumpscared by my oc x canon :3c
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rotisseries · 3 months
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inspired by elli's poll lol cause this seems fun actually but if you guys have bad answers I'll kill myself on your doorstep or smth
#“rori all of these are your faves how can there be a bad answer” well I still have an internal ranking on some of these#and if all of you pick an option that I think pales in comparison to the others. well. hm#I know what's gonna sweep though because two of these are niche as hell and 4 maybe 5 of these are things you people don't follow me for#fun fact I actually had to scrape my brain to make sure I couldn't come up with any more#I am unintentionally very picky on what is a favorite apparentlyyyy#I also just don't watch/read enough stuff these days so there's that#AND I NEED LONG TERM EXPOSURE TO KNOW THEY'RE STICKING AROUND#so like. I have some options but I don't KNOWWW if they're sticking yet#but this feels like such a small poll lmao#also no sapphics on here this is actually cause I hate women-#NO. JOKING. zelink is here. I almost put gideon and harrow but I'm in a perpetual state of not having finished tlt#and I couldn't put nebetta and darya I was drawing the line at 2 tbos ships. well. actually. changed my mind#not editing these tags actually you guys can see my thought process#WAIT AND SAYMARI. FUCK. I LITERALLY MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THEM I LOVE THEMMM#ok. is 4 tbos ships too many. hmm#I said 2 of these are niche now four of these are niche it's really the “which tbos pairing is your fave” poll#THIS POLL IS SO FUNNY IT'S SO SELF INDULGENT I HAVE TO TAKE OUT AT LEAST ONE TBOS SHIP#I should add one more general one...#cause I do actually want genuine and varied answers I gotta give y'all options so they don't all pool at the first two#I also almost put ellie and abby on here.. that would've been so funny four popular 1 rarepair 3 super niche ships#ellie and abby are soooo interesting to me though so of course the thought of them having something horrible going on together compels me#and they are one of my 3 favorited ao3 tags... they deserve a place...#ok well while I debate on that I'm putting akutagawa and atsushi on here I admittedly have only had like two months of exposure to them#but it is enough I can tell they are so crazy to me#the way my tags are just me overthinking everything on what is supposed to be a fun and silly poll... no one does it like me I'm afraid
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nilesmoon · 1 month
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infinite wealth if sawashiro said "who gives a shit about ebina im going to hawaii with ichi" and then the rest of the game is a family vacation
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#Ok so here's my dream scenario. It starts w kicking kiryu out of the narrative bc girl. I love the guy but he does not need to be here!!#kicking him out of the narrative also banishes the ebina stuff. I'm still keeping him around but#he'll be basically built up to be the main antagonist of 9. We're ONLY focusing on the cult stuff for 8#the way 8 closes him off is already sequel bait so give him a proper focus game w 9#Anyways now that that's out of the way. My worstie sawashiro does indeed become a party member.#His moveset is mostly blade damage w some blunt damage mixed in. YES I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT GAME MECHANICS#His singular elemental move is him flicking a cigarette at the enemy. Yes this is based off of that one scene w ichi in 7#ANYWAYS I HAVE MANY IDEAS I CANT TYPE THEM ALL OUT RN BUT. FAMILY VACATION ARC. PLEASE#ITS INSANE TO ME HOW KASUGA 'I LOVE MY FAMILY' ICHIBAN WAS NOT ALLOWED TO PROPERLY INTERACT W HIS FAMILY???#AND THE MAJORITY OF SAWASHIROS CONFLICT INCLUDED CAST MEMBERS WHO DIDNT GIVE A SINGLE SHIT ABOUT HIM????#I keep thinking back on that scene where ebina shows him passed out on that chair and THE INTENDED AUDIENCE FOR#THAT SCENE WAS AN OCEAN AWAY LIKE GIRL. WHAT WAS THE POINT???#well another perspective of that scene would be that sawashiro would be glad that ichi wasn't the one that came to rescue. which is. Misery#me when characters are defined by their guilt 💥💥💥💥😵💥💥💥😵‍💫💥💥💥😱💥💥💥💥😫💥💥💥#Well. If y'all read all these tags. thanks. If anyone is curious about this self indulgent au that I've created feel free to hit me up#(Please hit me up I'm desperate to talk abt the arakawa family misery and I deeply wish this game was even more miserable)#rgg#nile talks
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keeps-ache · 8 months
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girls :3
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sillyjayz · 2 months
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Yes please talk about your crossover!!!!!!
FOR YOU ANON I WILL!!! 🫡
I want to make more posts about it either here or on a side blog due to the brain rot I keep getting from thinking about it constantly. For now, I’m gonna do my best here to explain the general gist of it all! It’s still a bit rough tbh so my apologies if it makes 0 sense whatsoever and if it’s really long (which it already looks like it will be LMAO). It’s all gonna be under the read more so people who aren’t interested can scroll past it easily!
OH and before I continue, I’m gonna briefly discuss where it takes place in the canon timelines. So for Vbros, it’s after the movie. For Postal, it’s basically after the events for Postal 4. And for Eltingville Club, it’s after “This fan…This Monster!” but before the epilogue. For EC, it’s like an au where the club doesn’t immediately separate after the events of the comic fire yet are the verge of breaking apart. The club are around the same age as the Venture twins. (One more thing: if you ask me about any specific year it takes place in, I can’t tell you nor do I care that much about it sorry BWUSBWH)
It’s basically two stories happening at the same time, in different locations:
Story A is centered around Postal/Venture Brothers. This one is pretty underdeveloped because I haven’t came up with any reasoning for why The Postal Dude would be in NYC, how he even encounters Dean in the first place, and how he even discovers that he is a Venture (aka Jonas is his actual father. Not in the clone way, but in the normal way, making him and Rusty and the Monarch half brothers). Honestly, I just wanted to explore that last idea more and see some fun uncle and nephew bonding and shenanigans happen.
Story B, on the other hand, is pretty developed and consistent. Considering I made the Eltingville/Venture Brothers crossover first before I got fixated on Postal as well. I made an entire (and somewhat outdated) outline but to summarize it quickly: Hank moves out to go live with his new uncle Monarch temporarily to become more independent from his father (and also he didn’t want to go back to New York City because of Sirena). Basically still recovering from what happened and trying to find his way. He’s able to get a job at newly opened comic store in Eltingville (since the last one….burned down) and he encounters the club. Hank, against everyone else’s advice of “Do not talk to them”, talks to them since they’re so happen to be talking about Batman which ends with Hank asking if he can join. He gets laughed at by them, who don’t believe he’s really a Venture since what the hell is a supposed rich/famous kid doing working minimum wage as a comic book employee and Bill emphasizes that “We only allow authentic fans to join the club.” To prove his worth, Hank is challenged to a trivia off. If he wins, he’s in the club (as an unofficial official member or an “intern” as Bill calls it). If he loses, he doesn’t get to join the club and has to give them some valuable collectables for free, which Hank could get fired for. He gets until the end of the week to prepare for it since Hank argues with them for extra time and they all agree, thinking he’s gonna lose anyway. However, with Gary’s assistance and some secret help from Jerry (who thinks having a new member could be beneficial for the club), he ends up winning and becoming a part of the club!
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undefeatablesin · 2 years
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A very rough sketch of the Queen Herself Sonia Belmont lmao ❤️
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abel-draws · 1 year
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Art goals of the year:
Bnnuy
Jk. Partially. What I do want to do is drawings/very short comics and stuff about their story and the like
I also want to do more art studies (especially anatomy oriented), but we'll see if I get myself to finally do that more often this year
Oh yeah, also sketch animations, a biit more polished than the ones i usually do if possible
Here's the main bnnuys and wips refs for gratia and emilia. Ask me about them? Perhaps maybe? 👉👈
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fromaliminalspace · 2 years
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dapper-nahrwhale · 2 years
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Love being so inexplicably obsessed with one minor slight antagonist slight ally who had a pretty small role in one earlier season and a few bit roles whenever they need him back every single time I see him I say that's my bestfriend ronin ninjago 🥰🥰🥰 even if hes just there for half a second then never seen again for several seasons and every time we see him hes worse than before he never learns or changes and never will and I love that for him skrunkly blorbo little mew mew
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ship-status · 11 months
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that moment when you want to make a wishlist post but then you get embarrassed / nervous and can’t even draft the post
#( it’s silly i know it is !!! )#( i know we’re friends here anyways and its a safe space etc etc and everyone knows i wouldn’t put anything weird bc im baby anyways )#( but i get embarrassed easily 😭 )#( esp since some of the stuff is shippy .. i’ve been in the mood to write more romance/more .. idk what the word is. intimate ?? romance )#( but i don’t write a whole lot of romance in general and esp not on the dash so im nervous 😖 )#( sweet soft fluff caring times … but also kiss times )#( but also i have ideas for specific plot lines and aus and such that aren’t ship related at all )#( but i feel bad making a wishlist bc it makes me worry i’m pushing ideas onto people ???? )#( or that i’m only interested in those things ?? )#( but i’m not !!! i enjoy interactions of all kinds and i really like the threads/dynamics/etc i have now )#( but .. sometimes it’s fun to share ideas ; esp for things i’ve been thinking abt / wanting to write )#( but i don’t want it to come across as pushy or anything !! )#( i am simply sharing things in case anyone else happens to be interested )#( ….. also i’m really nervous and easily embarassed abt shippy stuff in general even if i don’t write s.uggestive stuff 🤦 )#( IM A NERVOUS BEEEAN )#( anyways sorry for the tag ramble )#( i’m having many thoughts and ideas but i also feel terrible and got about 0 sleep last night so emotions & self consciousness are big )#( so … maybe wishlist post ?? who knows )#( i do not know how today will go 😂 who knows ; maybe me feeling terrible will mean i’m going to be more self indulgent pfft )#( ignore me i’m a mess )#|| 𝙡𝙚𝙩'𝙨 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 ! ;; ooc ||
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noxtivagus · 1 year
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bro i just want to sit n think of stories ( i got off-topic in tags but oh my god i really just want to write again.. SO MUCH WORDS N THOUGHTS N IDEAS IN MY HEAD HFLKASJDFS ><; )
#🌙.rambles#I RAMBLE SO MUCH tbf it is 2 am..#can't help it hdljfdsk it really means so much to me to feel more like myself again#like there's still so much more i haven't been able to do n. regrets.. many of them but#there's so much more to life than that grrr i just need to remember that#success to me in school or work means nothing compared to the love i have for life and humanity as a whole#and my desire to.. really just live n be human#= stuff on family friends love in general in whichever form. learning more. of the world. indulging in my passions n being creative ykyk#the.. idea of success though is something that's a bit of a weak point for me bcs i really get too harsh on myself#but just. so long as i'm here in some way then#even if it hurts n the pain is hard to get rid of i'll live with it. i'll manage if i hold on to what's important to me#i. do feel bad bcs there r some things i wna do right now but i'm still.. v hesitant to do#i am rambling again oh my god i told myself i'll shut up but hdfjalds disappointment n self-doubt rlly r hard to deal with :<#smth i'm really trying to work on is being kinder to myself when it comes to others#bcs it's not that i necessarily think lowly of myself but i have difficulties with accepting stuff like#i don't know stuff like what i mean to them? i'm. really weak to that bcs when it comes to that i often cry actually#not that i necessarily doubt the other but it has something to do with how i feel i belong in this world#there's this.. barrier that's constantly there. i want to belong but i'm afraid.#i repeat saying these stuff often bcs. i don't know it really just often bites at me n sometimes the hopelessness#i feel within myself with a certain incompetence to change despite knowing what i need to do gets too much sometimes#i think that reflects on how i reach out to others sincerely. i genuinely want you to know that. i really care#sorry though if i disappear or get quiet at times. i feel really bad about that but it's really hard for me to get past that kind of#mental block.#but i'm afraid i suppose that if i'm the first to reach out maybe it's totally unwarranted n unwanted n i'm just a bother#i isolate myself often bcs of those thoughts. but like yeah it loops back to i need to do better n i genuinely wnt to improve myself#i don't want to be a burden but i want to stay true to myself. so i end up returning a bit#but then loops back to. yeah. being too much or too little. overwhelming or distant. extreme ends.#i end up often unintentionally restraining myself. hiding certain aspects n i hate it. even being affectionate or kind sometimes#bcs i really just want to be who i really am but i'm afraid that if it doesn't fit a certain standard set of myself then i'll be alone#i'm really trying to improve but there's just so much to think n feel n do n i just hdfkdfjlsd but i'm genuinely fine rn /gen 🥹🫶🏼
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symliadoo · 2 years
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some doodles/sketches from last year and this year i kinda-sorta posted or didnt at all that i liked bc why not
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definitelyuseless · 7 months
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just like me going on some long monologue about 'poor me im so hard done by woe is me my lifes awful im so unlucky' is emotionally invested, and technically heartfealt, but also a whole load of meaningless self indulgent rubbish, i think that can also describe a lot of fandom content on here
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Tesla's Dieselgate
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Elon Musk lies a lot. He lies about being a “utopian socialist.” He lies about being a “free speech absolutist.” He lies about which companies he founded:
https://www.businessinsider.com/tesla-cofounder-martin-eberhard-interview-history-elon-musk-ev-market-2023-2 He lies about being the “chief engineer” of those companies:
https://www.quora.com/Was-Elon-Musk-the-actual-engineer-behind-SpaceX-and-Tesla
He lies about really stupid stuff, like claiming that comsats that share the same spectrum will deliver steady broadband speeds as they add more users who each get a narrower slice of that spectrum:
https://www.eff.org/wp/case-fiber-home-today-why-fiber-superior-medium-21st-century-broadband
The fundamental laws of physics don’t care about this bullshit, but people do. The comsat lie convinced a bunch of people that pulling fiber to all our homes is literally impossible — as though the electrical and phone lines that come to our homes now were installed by an ancient, lost civilization. Pulling new cabling isn’t a mysterious art, like embalming pharaohs. We do it all the time. One of the poorest places in America installed universal fiber with a mule named “Ole Bub”:
https://www.newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/the-one-traffic-light-town-with-some-of-the-fastest-internet-in-the-us
Previous tech barons had “reality distortion fields,” but Musk just blithely contradicts himself and pretends he isn’t doing so, like a budget Steve Jobs. There’s an entire site devoted to cataloging Musk’s public lies:
https://elonmusk.today/
But while Musk lacks the charm of earlier Silicon Valley grifters, he’s much better than they ever were at running a long con. For years, he’s been promising “full self driving…next year.”
https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money
He’s hasn’t delivered, but he keeps claiming he has, making Teslas some of the deadliest cars on the road:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2023/06/10/tesla-autopilot-crashes-elon-musk/
Tesla is a giant shell-game masquerading as a car company. The important thing about Tesla isn’t its cars, it’s Tesla’s business arrangement, the Tesla-Financial Complex:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#Rat
Once you start unpacking Tesla’s balance sheets, you start to realize how much the company depends on government subsidies and tax-breaks, combined with selling carbon credits that make huge, planet-destroying SUVs possible, under the pretense that this is somehow good for the environment:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy
But even with all those financial shenanigans, Tesla’s got an absurdly high valuation, soaring at times to 1600x its profitability:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/15/hoover-calling/#intangibles
That valuation represents a bet on Tesla’s ability to extract ever-higher rents from its customers. Take Tesla’s batteries: you pay for the battery when you buy your car, but you don’t own that battery. You have to rent the right to use its full capacity, with Tesla reserving the right to reduce how far you go on a charge based on your willingness to pay:
https://memex.craphound.com/2017/09/10/teslas-demon-haunted-cars-in-irmas-path-get-a-temporary-battery-life-boost/
That’s just one of the many rent-a-features that Tesla drivers have to shell out for. You don’t own your car at all: when you sell it as a used vehicle, Tesla strips out these features you paid for and makes the next driver pay again, reducing the value of your used car and transfering it to Tesla’s shareholders:
https://www.theverge.com/2020/2/6/21127243/tesla-model-s-autopilot-disabled-remotely-used-car-update
To maintain this rent-extraction racket, Tesla uses DRM that makes it a felony to alter your own car’s software without Tesla’s permission. This is the root of all autoenshittification:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon
This is technofeudalism. Whereas capitalists seek profits (income from selling things), feudalists seek rents (income from owning the things other people use). If Telsa were a capitalist enterprise, then entrepreneurs could enter the market and sell mods that let you unlock the functionality in your own car:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/11/1-in-3/#boost-50
But because Tesla is a feudal enterprise, capitalists must first secure permission from the fief, Elon Musk, who decides which companies are allowed to compete with him, and how.
Once a company owns the right to decide which software you can run, there’s no limit to the ways it can extract rent from you. Blocking you from changing your device’s software lets a company run overt scams on you. For example, they can block you from getting your car independently repaired with third-party parts.
But they can also screw you in sneaky ways. Once a device has DRM on it, Section 1201 of the DMCA makes it a felony to bypass that DRM, even for legitimate purposes. That means that your DRM-locked device can spy on you, and because no one is allowed to explore how that surveillance works, the manufacturer can be incredibly sloppy with all the personal info they gather:
https://www.cnbc.com/2019/03/29/tesla-model-3-keeps-data-like-crash-videos-location-phone-contacts.html
All kinds of hidden anti-features can lurk in your DRM-locked car, protected from discovery, analysis and criticism by the illegality of bypassing the DRM. For example, Teslas have a hidden feature that lets them lock out their owners and summon a repo man to drive them away if you have a dispute about a late payment:
https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/
DRM is a gun on the mantlepiece in Act I, and by Act III, it goes off, revealing some kind of ugly and often dangerous scam. Remember Dieselgate? Volkswagen created a line of demon-haunted cars: if they thought they were being scrutinized (by regulators measuring their emissions), they switched into a mode that traded performance for low emissions. But when they believed themselves to be unobserved, they reversed this, emitting deadly levels of NOX but delivering superior mileage.
The conversion of the VW diesel fleet into mobile gas-chambers wouldn’t have been possible without DRM. DRM adds a layer of serious criminal jeopardy to anyone attempting to reverse-engineer and study any device, from a phone to a car. DRM let Apple claim to be a champion of its users’ privacy even as it spied on them from asshole to appetite:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar
Now, Tesla is having its own Dieselgate scandal. A stunning investigation by Steve Stecklow and Norihiko Shirouzu for Reuters reveals how Tesla was able to create its own demon-haunted car, which systematically deceived drivers about its driving range, and the increasingly desperate measures the company turned to as customers discovered the ruse:
https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/tesla-batteries-range/
The root of the deception is very simple: Tesla mis-sells its cars by falsely claiming ranges that those cars can’t attain. Every person who ever bought a Tesla was defrauded.
But this fraud would be easy to detect. If you bought a Tesla rated for 353 miles on a charge, but the dashboard range predictor told you that your fully charged car could only go 150 miles, you’d immediately figure something was up. So your Telsa tells another lie: the range predictor tells you that you can go 353 miles.
But again, if the car continued to tell you it has 203 miles of range when it was about to run out of charge, you’d figure something was up pretty quick — like, the first time your car ran out of battery while the dashboard cheerily informed you that you had 203 miles of range left.
So Teslas tell a third lie: when the battery charge reached about 50%, the fake range is replaced with the real one. That way, drivers aren’t getting mass-stranded by the roadside, and the scam can continue.
But there’s a new problem: drivers whose cars are rated for 353 miles but can’t go anything like that far on a full charge naturally assume that something is wrong with their cars, so they start calling Tesla service and asking to have the car checked over.
This creates a problem for Tesla: those service calls can cost the company $1,000, and of course, there’s nothing wrong with the car. It’s performing exactly as designed. So Tesla created its boldest fraud yet: a boiler-room full of anti-salespeople charged with convincing people that their cars weren’t broken.
This new unit — the “diversion team” — was headquartered in a Nevada satellite office, which was equipped with a metal xylophone that would be rung in triumph every time a Tesla owner was successfully conned into thinking that their car wasn’t defrauding them.
When a Tesla owner called this boiler room, the diverter would run remote diagnostics on their car, then pronounce it fine, and chide the driver for having energy-hungry driving habits (shades of Steve Jobs’s “You’re holding it wrong”):
https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/
The drivers who called the Diversion Team weren’t just lied to, they were also punished. The Tesla app was silently altered so that anyone who filed a complaint about their car’s range was no longer able to book a service appointment for any reason. If their car malfunctioned, they’d have to request a callback, which could take several days.
Meanwhile, the diverters on the diversion team were instructed not to inform drivers if the remote diagnostics they performed detected any other defects in the cars.
The diversion team had a 750 complaint/week quota: to juke this stat, diverters would close the case for any driver who failed to answer the phone when they were eventually called back. The center received 2,000+ calls every week. Diverters were ordered to keep calls to five minutes or less.
Eventually, diverters were ordered to cease performing any remote diagnostics on drivers’ cars: a source told Reuters that “Thousands of customers were told there is nothing wrong with their car” without any diagnostics being performed.
Predicting EV range is an inexact science as many factors can affect battery life, notably whether a journey is uphill or downhill. Every EV automaker has to come up with a figure that represents some kind of best guess under a mix of conditions. But while other manufacturers err on the side of caution, Tesla has the most inaccurate mileage estimates in the industry, double the industry average.
Other countries’ regulators have taken note. In Korea, Tesla was fined millions and Elon Musk was personally required to state that he had deceived Tesla buyers. The Korean regulator found that the true range of Teslas under normal winter conditions was less than half of the claimed range.
Now, many companies have been run by malignant narcissists who lied compulsively — think of Thomas Edison, archnemesis of Nikola Tesla himself. The difference here isn’t merely that Musk is a deeply unfit monster of a human being — but rather, that DRM allows him to defraud his customers behind a state-enforced opaque veil. The digital computers at the heart of a Tesla aren’t just demons haunting the car, changing its performance based on whether it believes it is being observed — they also allow Musk to invoke the power of the US government to felonize anyone who tries to peer into the black box where he commits his frauds.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world
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This Sunday (July 30) at 1530h, I’m appearing on a panel at Midsummer Scream in Long Beach, CA, to discuss the wonderful, award-winning “Ghost Post” Haunted Mansion project I worked on for Disney Imagineering.
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Image ID [A scene out of an 11th century tome on demon-summoning called 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros. Anno 1057. Noli me tangere.' It depicts a demon tormenting two unlucky would-be demon-summoners who have dug up a grave in a graveyard. One summoner is held aloft by his hair, screaming; the other screams from inside the grave he is digging up. The scene has been altered to remove the demon's prominent, urinating penis, to add in a Tesla supercharger, and a red Tesla Model S nosing into the scene.]
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Image: Steve Jurvetson (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tesla_Model_S_Indoors.jpg
CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en
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floatmeintothesun · 5 months
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Utterly Enraptured
Pairing; Miguel O’Hara x f!reader
tags; breeding, little bit of overstimulation, Miguel goes into rut, creampie, wordcount 4k
Summary; Miguel seems to have forgotten about a certain side effect from having half of his genetic makeup being spider DNA
EXPLICIT - MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
Wet, warm, perfectly molded to his length. Large palms pressing against thighs, his mouth quieting your little gasps and hiccups. His murmured praise, his filthy tongue pressing against your hole wetly, licking long stripes up your skin. Hungry. The twitch of his hips, the choked whimpers, he wants it. Needs it. 
You’re gasping, trying in vain to muffle your moans into the pillow while he completely and irrevocably rearranges your insides. You’re so fucking sweet – god, he wants nothing more than to stuff you full of his seed, pull out and admire the view of him seeping out from your weeping pussy. 
He wants to push it all back in with spit slicked fingers, kiss away all of your tears and do it all over again until you’re sobbing in pleasure, begging for more, more, more –
Miguel wakes up feeling fire burn at the base of his spine and the undeniable hardening of his cock. He immediately wants to just roll over and go back to bed. 
It’s 7:47, he has to get up in ten minutes, he’s way too hot but the floors are probably freezing, his blankets are so so comfortable and his dick is aching. So far, great start to his morning. Miguel turns to his side, finding your side of the bed empty. He resists the urge to groan. 
Right, you have your early work shift today.
 He mourns the loss of the warmth as he kicks off his blankets with one languid motion. For a moment he’s tempted to just indulge himself right now, right here. Your scent is still in the air, soaked into your pillow, heady and intoxicating. 
Absent-mindedly he palms himself, cupping the sizable bulge and considers. Miguel wants you, to be completely honest. Always does. Like a thirst that will never be quenched, he craves you. All of you. Your hands, your flesh, your blood — if he could, he’d worship every single inch of you for the rest of eternity. 
And you’re not here. Unfortunately. He imagines your hand, smaller than his, wrapping securely around his length, the other curled loosely around his hot, swollen balls, and slowly exhales. 
He can wait. He has self control. He doesn’t have time to fist himself like a wild animal. He has an online meeting to attend since he, for once, is taking a break from the Spider Verse for a day or two.
Miguel heaves a sigh and gets up, stretching lazily. The chill seeps into his skin and he resigns himself to taking a cold shower. 
(He ends up having to clean spurts of creamy white off of the shower walls anyway. He is so fucked.)
There’s something wrong with him. There’s something wrong with today. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Miguel can’t get you out of his head. 
You usually don’t leave his mind regardless, but at the moment, all he can think of is bending you over the nearest flat surface, letting you slather at his tip, feeling your sweet, tight pussy clench around him while he whispers obscenities in your ear.
He thinks of you all day, but his thoughts are never this…vividly vulgar. Miguel will admit to having the stray passing instance but right now? He’s practically been a depraved fucking dog for the past three hours straight. 
This morning didn’t help. That damn dream didn’t help. He’s been staring at his laptop for the past thirty minutes trying desperately to redirect his thoughts to something more productive, his board members are droning on and on about stock values and whatnot  – he has work to finish, but jesus, he can’t think of anything but you.
Your taste, your heat, your everything. He’s hard as rock as he mumbles some bullshit excuse to his meeting members before shutting off his laptop with a definite click. It’s as if a fog has filled his head, keeping him drunk and dizzy. Miguel’s body feels unbearably hot right now, scorching, needing. 
“Lyla,” his voice is strangled. “What’s the date?” 
His assistant flickers to life next to him, drawing up a calendar.
“Mm…it’s the 8th,” she says, blinking down at him. “Ah, I see. Your uh, time of the month, y’know?” She wiggles her eyebrows and he growls, waving her away. She pops up a little ways away, putting her hands on her hips.“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, man,” Lyla frowns. “Just telling you,”
“Thanks,” He says bitingly, dismissing her and groaning into his hands. You won’t be home until later – and later means that he’s going to have to suffer for the next few hours, alone and unbearably horny. Wonderful. 
Mentally, he berates himself with a low hiss, feeling annoyed that he didn't connect the dots earlier. His throat is dry and he swallows raspily.
He should’ve looked at the date, how could he have forgotten? Heightened sensitivity, overheating, inability to focus, the urge to fuck you into next week — all signs pointing to a very large neon billboard that says “SPIDER INSTINCT FUCKERY” in big bold letters. In other words, mating period.
 It happens every other month through the 8th to the 10th when his body decides that it’s time to procreate and do nothing else for the next two days. 
He sucks in a ragged breath slowly, trying to calm his fast beating heart. It doesn’t work, only serving to remind him of the pulsing in his chest and between his legs. 
It wasn’t this bad before he started dating you. All he had to do was tug on his cock a few times and he was fine, for the most part. Anything else could be burned off by fighting criminals and doing his usual dimensional overseeing.
That was before you. You and your gorgeous smile, you and your honeyed scent, you and your burning touch. He’s so hungry — greedy. He wants your flesh in his hands, your slick on his chin, your hands on his body. 
He doesn’t even realize he’s getting up from the couch and migrating to your shared room until his knees hit the mattress and his huge frame curls up on your side of the bed. His cock is stupidly hard, twitching and throbbing from where it’s formed a tent in his sweatpants. 
Miguel can already feel the precum seeping out of him and staining his boxers. A whine rips itself out of his throat as he buries his head into your pillow, basking in your familiar sweet smell. 
A heady mixture of your favorite shampoo, perfume and body, all swirling around him as he grinds his lower half into the bed desperately like a dog in heat. 
It’s not enough. It’s not enough. 
He needs you, craves you. His large hand snakes down to wrap around his weeping length, the other pulling down his sweat pants and boxers to give him some relief. It’s agony, waiting for you to come home. 
He wishes you were here right now, wishes that he could pepper your face with kisses and croon apologies while he slowly bottoms out in your tight cunt while you writhe beneath him. 
Or on top of him. He doesn’t give a damn. Any position you want, he’ll do it. 
Just imagining your sweet whines and whimpers has his breath labored. He presses the heel of his palm against his stiff length, hissing at the jolt of pleasure and sensitivity that burns through him. It’s painfully dry, but he takes the slick precum dripping out of his tip to aid the tight slide of his fist over his fat cock. God, he just needs to pump you full of him and fuck it all back into you. The thought of you, all swollen and glowing with his kid makes him nearly feral.
His hips jerk upwards and he can’t help but imagine your hand instead of his, can’t help but imagine how much better it would feel. 
He gasps quietly as his thumb presses against his slit, jaw tightening, fangs threatening to break skin. The hand currently not wrapped around his cock is clenching the bedsheets hard enough to rip. 
He just needs to wait. He just has to wait a little longer. You’ll be home soon. 
You slip off your shoes at the door, setting them aside on the rack near the entrance. The warmth from the apartment chases away the chill and you set down your bag, heaving a sigh of relief. You’ve been looking forward to spending time with your boyfriend all day since he has a rare day at home today. 
You peek around the hall, letting your aching feet be comforted by the rugs near the living room. Where is Miguel anyways? 
“Heyyyy,” Lyla pops up in front of you suddenly, grinning when you startle. “Looking for Miguel?”
You set a hand on your chest trying to calm your jackrabbiting heart, before giving her a small smile.
“Yeah. Is he here right now? I mean he said he would be, but I don’t know if he’s doing his Spider-man thing right now,” You tilt your head as Lyla’s expression flickers. She adjusts her glasses, glancing at your bedroom door.
“Well uh, he’s in there. Might wanna be careful though,” She mutters, checking out her bright pink nails absentmindedly. You raise an eyebrow.
“Why’s that?”
In lieu of explanation she draws up a calendar and materializes a glitching pen in her hands, circling the date. Your frown in confusion. 
“The…8th?” You blink and she nods. Why would today be significant? It’s not your anniversary, the only thing that comes to mind at the moment is… “Oh.” You swallow dryly, remembering vague flashes from two months ago. Two months ago when he had fucked you silly for what was basically two days, interspersed with breaks in between. Then the sheepish explanation of what he calls "mating period" where his DNA practically drives him insane with rampant horniness. 
 Lyla nods empathetically.
“Yeah…well, good luck! I've heard that massages really help with soreness.” She vanishes with a pop of golden glimmers, leaving you alone in the hall. 
You glance where she had been moments prior before sighing. Dating a man with half of his makeup being spider DNA came with its quirks. Your feet carry you down the hall and you open the door to find –
Oh fuck.
Miguel, in all of his bare glory, strong thighs spread wide, leaving nothing to the imagination. His sweatpants and shirt are in a heap on the floor, most likely thrown in his haste. His heaving chest is gleaming with sweat, abdomen twitching, looking like a Greek God. 
And there, his throbbing, swollen cock squeezed tightly in his fist, his hips working back and forth at a languid pace. Long and thick, the tip shining slightly with precum. It makes you salivate, sticky heat beginning to grow between your legs. 
The room's atmosphere is heavy as you mindlessly draw closer. Fuck, his gasps and whimpers sound so pretty. Half of his large frame is hanging off the bed as you realize he's on your side, face buried desperately in your pillow.
"B – baby," His words stutter in his throat as your scent overwhelms him, his nostrils flaring. "Please, please, please —fuck, need you so bad," he quivers, taking his hand off of his face to look back at you. He's grimacing, gorgeous plush lips stretched into a pathetic pout and you hum in acknowledgement, putting a hand on his thigh. He twitches but makes no other move.
Your clit throbs in response to the pure neediness in his voice, high and whiny. He sounds utterly wrecked, squeezing his cock and waiting for you to touch him. You’re so close, your hand is on his body, but it’s not where he wants it. 
“You’re so desperate, Miguel,” You croon, reaching out slowly and wrapping your hand around his base. He makes a choked sound, his hand falling away to run through his sweaty hair. “Aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer for a second, visibly trying to contain himself before he speaks, low and ragged.
“Yes,” He finally hisses, crimson irises foggy and clouded with lust. You hum in approval at his answer, squeezing lightly as you begin to pump him, going at a pace you know is wholly too slow for his taste. “Don’t t — tease me, cariño. Faster, baby, please,” He begs, his breath stuttering in his chest. 
You rock back on your heel as you begin stroking faster, your thumb tracing the veins on the underside. Miguel’s eyes roll back as your deliciously hot mouth descends on him, your tongue circling his tip juuust the way he likes it. Fuck, you can feel yourself getting wetter with each trembling hiss and moan you pull out of this man — your man. You separate from him with a pop, licking pre from sticky fingers while he watches hungrily.
The smell of arousal — your arousal, invades his senses and his hands twitch and he lunges, pulling you up to him and flipping you over. You yelp in surprise as his hands immediately squeeze flesh, your hips, your thighs, your ass, anywhere he has access to. 
You tilt up to kiss him and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and when you allow him access inside he moans quietly, fangs digging into your lower lip lightly. 
Your shirt is practically discarded at the speed of light and you shiver for a second at the cold washing over your skin before Miguel's all over you again.
He leans forward to fumble with your bra, fingers struggling to unclasp the hooks on the back. You laugh and pull it off yourself, to which he rolls his eyes fondly before his mirth is devoured by desire.
Thick fingers nimbly pull at your pants waistline.
"Take these off too, sweetheart," He whispers, leaving wet open mouth kisses trailing down your neck. You shiver, obliging quickly and kicking them off. They land somewhere on the floor and you don't care enough to look for them. Not when Miguel is between your legs, staring down at your clothed pussy like it's his last meal.
He inhales slowly, leaning down to press his head against your thigh. You smell so fucking intoxicating, he wants nothing more than to bury his face between your legs and make you scream in pleasure. But first he has to get rid of your panties.
"Hurry up, Miguel, please," You whine, wiggling your hips as if to try and encourage him. As if he needs any sort of encouragement. 
"Do you care about these panties?" He asks, quick and low. You blink.
"No…? –! " You gasp as he lowers his head and fucking rips them off of you in one quick motion with his damn teeth. "Miguel!"
"I'll get you new ones, baby. Promise." He kisses your inner thigh, holding you down with two large searing hands. "As many as you want. As long as I get to have this goddamn pussy, I'll get you anything."
Your glistening lips look absolutely delicious, all wet and soaked from watching him play with his cock in front of you. He wants to put his mouth on your throbbing, swollen clit until you sob, wants your pussy in his face, wants his tongue in you while you grab at his hair and urge him for more. You'd taste divine, and he nearly just decides to do it anyway.
But his cock is so hard it almost hurts and he's about three seconds away from getting blue balls, so instead he sinks one finger in your drenched cunt. Your breath hitches and you turn your head into a pillow as he begins to finger fuck you in earnest. The obscene sound of slick gushing out from your hole makes Miguel nearly feral, nearly has his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels your tightness squeeze and pulse around his thick digit. You hiss at the stretch, slow pain and growing pleasure intertwining as Miguel goes slow adding a second. 
"You're doing so good, so good, baby. You feel so – fuck, so good. Can you take one more?" He asks breathlessly. "C’mon, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"
You nod amidst blurry vision, gasping as he slides another finger in. His pace is fast and punishing, and the final goddamn nail on the coffin is the way his fingers press into your g-spot, while his thumb rubs messy circles on your puffy clit. 
"Cum, baby, you can do it, you can fucking cum for me, can't you?" He latches onto your tit, swirling his tongue around your nipple in such a way that makes your head foggy. 
“Mig – guel!” You whine brokenly as he rolls it between his teeth, sharp points of pleasure burning up your spine like wildfire. Miguel can’t help but groan at the feeling of your sweet cunt clamping down on his fingers, and he increases his speed at the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. You're so so close and when the building coil in your lower stomach finally snaps, you sob, gushing all over his palm.
Your bare chest heaves as he murmurs sweet praise in your ear, telling you that "You did so good, cariño," and "Look at you, you're so gorgeous all spread out like this,". Miguel drags his tongue down your neck, pulling away for a second to suck your juices off his fingers in an awfully erotic display of tongue, saliva, and a flash of a grin. 
He presses kisses to your face, trying his absolute damndest not to hump you like a fucking dog but he’s waited so long and he’s going to go fucking insane if he doesn’t get your pretty pussy wrapped around his cock in the next two seconds. 
“C’mere, baby,” Miguel takes himself in hand, his other keeping your thighs spread so he can see your twitching hole all wet and ready for him. “Can’t wait any damn longer – I’ll fuckin’ – explode or something.”
Looking up at him from your position is absolutely deadly. His hair is disheveled, strands slipping from their usually neat positions, his expression is utterly and completely devoted as his chest heaves. Your eyes travel down to shamelessly stare at his massive package, complete with his proportionally large hand curled around the weeping length. 
He’s so stiff that he splits your lips easily, and he groans at the feeling of your slick coating the underside of his cock. You can’t help but gasp as he grinds against you slowly before the head catches on your clit and pushes inside. 
And oh god, he could die right here and be happy, he could fucking die with the tip of his dick buried in your tight pussy and think that his life is fulfilled. It takes everything in him not to cum and paint your insides in a creamy white. Your wet walls are so slick and he hisses as they clamp down on him.
“Fuuuuck… baby you — you gotta loosen up for me, relax — mnnshit — “ he gasps, and you cry out, shifting underneath him. He rubs sloppy circles on your clit, his breathing labored as a few more inches of his monstrous cock slide in, “There we go, there we — nnngh, okay, good, so fucking good, you’re such a pretty girl,” he babbles nonsensically, practically losing his mind in the warmth. 
“M — Miguel,” You hiccup, nudging him out of his daze. “Move — please, s’not enough,” You want him in your guts, you want him to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is the shape of his cock. 
And who is he to deny you?
He shoves the rest of himself in in one fluid motion, his throat closing in on itself as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush to yours. His mouth parts slightly as his lips form an o shape, and he thrusts once, caging you in his burly arms. 
“Oh shit — I’m gonna move, okay? M’gonna move,” he warns you, before pulling out slowly only to slam his hips back into yours with wild abandon. You suck in a startled breath as he begins to absolutely fuck your brains out, fire igniting deep in your lower stomach again. There’s none of his usual careful approach, there’s no teasing, no smug remarks. He’s focused on one thing and one thing only: stuffing you full of his seed until he physically can’t anymore. 
You can barely get anything out as he grinds against you, his dick so deep inside that you’re sure that he’s showing through your lower stomach. Fuck – he feels so good as he fills your tight pussy, rocking precisely in all of your sensitive spots. The head of him practically kisses your damn cervix, sending you rocketing towards your second orgasm of the night. 
Your brain is so mushy and pleasure-drowned that it takes you a second to realize that he’s still talking and oh fuck.
“Let me fill you, le— let me cum inside, please, please, baby, I wan – nngh, I want you all round and swollen f’me,” he sounds utterly wrecked, desperate and hungry all rolled in at once, “Wouldn’t you look so pretty an’ gorgeous? Pleas – e, please? Need you full, all full of me,” Miguel begs, grunting lowly when you clamp down on him from the downright filth flowing from his mouth. 
“Yes – Miguel, just –nnhgod, oh shit, oh fuck,” You lose the tail end of your sentence as your head melts out of your ears and pleasure sears through your veins. Miguel whimpers at your words, shoving himself deeper than you thought was humanly possible. 
“Waited so long for you, baby, was so – was so lonely, needed you – need you – “ He hits a spot that has you keening, eyes rolling back and your head bumping against the headboard of the bed. You’re driving him utterly insane, your moans and cries sounding like a blended symphony of bliss pounding through his eardrums. He leans down to litter any inch of bare skin he has access to in dark marks, his burning mouth trailing wetly down the valley between your breasts.
“M’close, Mig – uel, I’m going to cum, baby –” You manage to gasp out before you’re overwhelmed completely and your vision erupts into stars as you gush around him for the second time in one day. It feels like someone has poured molten pleasure down your veins and you’re incandescent with it. 
Miguel chokes, low and deep in his throat, feeling your slick pussy tighten around his girthy cock, slathered in your juices. It tears a downright animalistic sound out of him, a trembling snarl from somewhere in his chest as he thrusts once, twice, then finally pumps you full of creamy thick seed. 
His mouth is agape, transfixed in a silent ‘o’ as his hips stutter and his balls draw up tight, every atom in his body devoted to filling you completely. When he’s finished, he rolls his hips a few more times, fucking his cum deeper inside of you despite his hiss of overstimulation. 
Your limbs are putty in his hands as he slides out slowly and adjusts you into a more comfortable position, his eyes lingering on the way some of his cum drips out of your loose hole. He pushes it all back in with two fingers, giving you a small smile of apology at your choked mutter, before collapsing down next to you and dragging you close to his chest. 
“...How long does this last again?” You rasp, voice sore from screaming. Miguel hums in contemplation, nosing your shoulder from where he’s draped over you.
“About a day and a half more to go,” He responds languidly after a moment. “Are you okay with that?”
You know you’re going to be so sore by the end of it. You know you’ll probably be feeling it for weeks on end after. You know you’ll probably have to take a few sick days to recover too. 
“Mhm,” You answer, kissing his cheek. “I can handle it,”
“That’s good,” He replies quietly, and you stiffen, feeling his fat softened cock twitch against your thigh. He raises his head to give you a semi sheepish look and you gulp.
Maybe you can’t handle it, actually. It’s okay though, since Miguel will take care of you long after. 
Man im so sorry this was pretty late. At least i managed to get it in before October ended. Also I’d let that man dick me down any day of the week, 24/7 😻😻
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luveline · 5 months
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hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure
hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k
cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain
Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds. 
There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal. 
You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower. 
"Not this time, Pete." 
"Too bad," he laments. 
You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious. 
"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut. 
"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?" 
"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders." 
"You want me to wash your hair." 
"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg." 
You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?" 
"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money." 
"Anything else?" 
He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are. 
He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?" 
"You told me to stay, so I'm staying." 
He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?" 
"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?" 
"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing." 
Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.
It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink." 
"Wait–" 
He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it." 
"I'm just feeling icky," you confide. 
"About what?" 
You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?" 
He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, a little." 
He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips. 
"It doesn't suit me–" 
"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better." 
"Even when I was thinner?" 
"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor." 
"No, but you have to say that." 
"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious." 
You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin. 
"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight." 
"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle." 
"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."
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