#there needs to be capital letters so bad

[kii2me2ii2]

me when I see other people ship characters who've literally never interacted: lmao loser can't find literally any other ship to cry over

me @ 10: omgggg mavis & rapunzel 😭

#i also ship characters whove never interacted nowww i am jus a hater when i see other people do it lol #jus cus i think being a hater is fun in private #but neways i PROMISSE my ships now r not frm different medias.... #i also didnt even ship mavis & rapunzel it was JUST that one youtube video ok!!!!!! #which i may have watched more than a couple times #but i was like 10 OK #there needs to be capital letters so bad

[berritart]

Rise n Shine

CW: smut, fingering, slight size kink, petnames, overstimulation, reader is addressed by she/her only twice.

A/N: morning sex w yelena *chefs kiss* this was totally not self indulgent👍🏾

word count: 1.29k

Yelena never sleeps in due to her schedule, she’s always up and ready when you’re barely awake. Sometimes when work calls her in too early, she even leaves a sweet n sappy sticky note on your end table before she leaves for the day.

But today, she was off. The sun was gleaming through the sheer curtains and it was almost 11am, but she still hasn’t stirred.

slowly, you turned around to face yelena, taking in how beautiful she looked while sleeping. “all mine” you whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

You missed this so much, waking up and she’s still besides you. And not to mention the feeling of her long, slightly muscular arms wrapped around your smaller figure.

as much as you wanted her to get sleep because she rarely does, the familiar throbbing in your cunt made it hard to leave her alone. So you rose up a little, nuzzling against the crook of the others neck, placing soft kisses on her neck, causing her to stir.

“Yelena?” You whimpered quietly against her neck. You became so needy, more than usual, and you didn’t know why today out of all days, when all your poor girlfriend wanted to do was get some rest.

Hesitantly, you started to paw at her shirt, thinking if she felt your hands tug at her shirt she’ll get up but that wasn’t the case. You decided to leave her alone, snuggling against her warm embrace once again.

After a few minutes, you felt Yelena’s arms unwrap around your body. The action causing you to shoot up, wrapping yours around her neck before she can sit up. “lena, missed you…”

“y/n?” she groaned, her eyes fluttering open. “whats up with you this morning?” she chuckled, her voice groggy from the hours of sleep.

“need you..” you whined, not releasing her from your hold.

“my princess needs me to make her feel good? hm?” she questioned, making you nod your head fast, keeping your face hidden in the crook of her neck.

she grabs your face with one of her big hands, squishing your cheeks slightly. she made you face her, taking in how pretty you looked. your cheeks dusted with blush, your furrowed eyebrows, and your bottom lip tucked in your teeth. you looked so needy and she wanted to give her baby what she wanted.

“and what do you want me to do?” she placed you down on your back against the pillows, rising up from the bed. yelena knows what you want. she knows your body almost more than you know it yourself. she knows you want to feel her slender long fingers constantly pump in and out of your sopping cunt. but whats the fun in not making you beg for what you want?

you covered your face with the sleeves of yelena’s oversized sweatshirt you stole from her, shaking your head. “don’t wanna say it..” you whispered. she gently pushed your arms and hands from the view, reaching to stroke your warm cheek.

“how am i supposed to make my baby feel good when she doesn’t want to tell me what she wants?” she glanced down at you, withdrawing her hand from your cheek. yelena hooked her finger under the waistband of your baby blue panties. “i wont do anything until you tell me”

you whimpered at the slight action, yelena laughing at how deprived of her touch you are. slowly, you grabbed her hand guiding it to the wet patch on your underwear. “need you here”

her eyes glanced down to your lower body, taking in how pretty your thick folds looked, the cloth of your panties hugging them so well.

she loves your pussy so much, the way it gets so sensitive you’re needy, how good it feels against her strap, and how whiny you get when she finds your pretty clit hidden between your fat folds with her tongue or fingers.

the taller woman hummed, dragging two digits against your clothed heat, the action causing you to buck your hips up against her fingers. yelena pinned your hips down and continued to rub your clit through the dampen cloth. “patience my love.” she looked down at you, taking in how fucked out you already look. yelena finally gave in, tugging down your underwear in one swift motion.

“gonna make my baby feel so good, gonna make her cum so much. you like the sound of that?” she glides a finger through your plump folds, rubbing against your clit.

“mhm i do s’bad” your high pitched moans filled the room as she continues the slow assault. yelena loves seeing you like this. the sight of your sweater paws grip at her biceps, the feeling of you taking her long digits in your pussy, your pretty lil facial expressions. she adored it so much.

yelena finally slipped two fingers into your tight hole, causing you to squirm and gasp. she started to pump her fingers in and out of your heat, rubbing your clit with her thumb.“feels soo good lena. need more” you whimpered, biting down the sobs leaving your mouth.

“shh shh i got you y/n” she moved her two fingers in a slow scissoring motion, your eyes rolling to the back of your head from the feeling.

all can be heard throughout the room were your muffled sobs and your soaking heat. all of it was too much. you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“m gonna cum” you gripped onto the sheets until your knuckles turned white, feeling the coil in your abdomen tighten. your fucked out body started to tremble hinting your orgasm was so near.

the pace of yelena’s thumb became quicker, your chimax inching closer and closer. “go ahead and cum princess. let me see my pretty girl unravel on my fingers” yelena’s smooth deep voice and the petnames was enough to push you over the edge. your sweet juices covering her fingers gathering at her knuckles. yelena’s groaned at the sight, wanting to slip those exact fingers in her mouth. she felt your body tremble and shake as she continued to rub your abused clit.

“too much lena, i cant-” you couldn’t take much more, it felt like your body was on fire. yelena continued rubbing your poor clit anyways, putting all the attention your sensitive nub.

“i know you can do one more. please baby?” she begged, wanting to see your breaking point for the second time.

yelena thinks you’re the prettiest girl she ever laid eyes on. no one can change her mind about that. but she thinks you’re the prettiest when you’re fucked out, slumped against the bed after multiple orgasms. she wants to pull as many as she can from your weakened body, ignoring your pleases and whimpers that you’re sensitive.

after a few more rubs against your swollen clit, your body shakes violently from the 2nd orgasm yelena pulled from you. your essence coats your folds, dripping on the sheets. you’re too tired to say anything, all that can be heard from you are your soft sniffles and whimpers.

“tired?” she questioned, placing a cover over your body. you nodded lazily, drowsiness washing over you. it didnt take that long for you to drift off to sleep, signaling yelena to join your pretty form. she engulfed your body into her arms, keeping you ever so close to her.

yelena kissed your forehead, and then your soft lips causing you to stir a little in your sleep. you looked so content, so beautiful while you dozed off. she wished mornings could be like this forever, wanting to hold you in her embrace through the morning into the afternoon.

“sleep well, darling”

#literally gave up capitalizing letters if u cant tell #NEED THIS SO BAD #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #yelena x reader #aot smut #yelena aot #tw overstimulation #tw size kink #snk smut #yelena smut

[mangoofthesea]

How many things do you think need to be set on fire to disrupt capitalism enough to create a livable society? Asking for a friend

#mango rambles #capitalism #watcher #dystopian society #just watched a speech about how terrible the overturn of roe v wade is #keep hearing how companies are canning movies as tax right offs or strangling the life out of diverse content before it gets made #fucking governments fucking everything up #looking at uk and us #fucking joke on the tv tonight about how nhs staff shouldn't be bothering with making 'signs showing 23 genders' because cancer isn’t cured #was a sign with pride flags on #some of them genders some sexualities #i hate the british media #feel bad for not donating to causes because i could but where am i supposed to draw the line? #is this the right one to donate to? #i don't feel comfortable donating to multiple because I'm trying to cling desperately to my money and any little advantage or safety i have #but im not giving other people that same courtesy #because which one do i donate to? #the person who can't afford food? #the family getting out of a warzone? #the family trying to get their son or daughter or father or aunt or sibling out of a warzone #the person who needs their cancer stricken cat to get surgery #the homeless content creator #the homeless single parent trying to be a content creator to gain any money #the people trying to raise money for dying relatives they adore #its not even doomscrolling its because i watch one video of people suffering to hear them out #give them time to speak so their video gets views #read their post becuase there are capitals and red letters and begging and i don't want to reblog or repost something that spreads misinform #ion #nothjng is nice nothing is pleasant #everyone is mean

[pebblezone]

Living life yay huzzah yay

#a #I have beef with my school. am I happy here? absolutely. do I think we are beyond lame for not having an actual guy? 100% #letters don’t count!!!!!!!! having a capital letter for your school doesn’t count!!!!!!!!!! #like it’s not even a complete absence of a team no just like a silly little physical guy than runs across the field #and can be all cute on stuff on shirts and be stuffed animals it’s the marketing potential they’re missing out on #though I guess I’d rather have no physical dude than one which sucks complete ass I’m talking about pen state fuck that guy #I need to watch the gnomes again wait oh my fucking god I was thinking like damn I did the gnomeo juliet ace attorney moment #but my brain is knee deep in hellsing so idk how to connect them but bruh every piece of media has some form of rivals #I’m not emotionally invested in andercard but the idea of Catholic and Protestant gnomes is really funny #and they’re already British!! lovely!!! at some point in college I need to use gnomes for a grade I can’t let that be a high school only bit #did you know that gnomeo and Juliet is technically owned by Disney? add that to your marvel cinematic universe #oh gnomeo and Juliet poster we’re really in it now #did you know that the version of hello hello that’s in the movie featuring lady Gaga is not on streaming services? they take lady Gaga out #it’s really unfortunate the echos and duet aspect make the song it’s not just one or the other it’s Two Gnomes!! #have two exam grades back that I have not looked at out of fear #either they’ll be bad and I’ll watch hellsing to make myself feel better Or they’ll be good and I’ll watch hellsing as a reward #unrelated but it looks like a gutter on the other side of my dorm got busted and I’m trying to figure out if it’s always been like that #maybe it has and I’m not a gutter glorifier like I thought I was…. rip observational skills #I have a group project I have to work on and it’s evil I do not enjoy the class and it’s not very lgbt slay girlboss of me #but god dammit I am not filling out a fucking gender unicorn for your class that’s between me and my tumblr drafts from 2019 #it gets a credit out of the way and I never have to take it again I am so strong #man what does it say about society that I’m more excited about Econ than wgs (it says nothing the Econ professor is just goofy and fun) #(also he does more than read off of slides and show those like buzzfeed social experiments) #but none of that is important since next week is when things get fucked and I’ll end up with more free time! yay strikes!! #update: made it back from project zone those fuckers held me hostage using social norms #it’s okay though I’m sooo strong and brave #talkingcore

[letoasai]

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

~~

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment. 

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams. 

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy. 

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.  

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle. 

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.” 

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan. 

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted. 

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.” 

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?” 

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work. 

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it. 

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?” 

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.” 

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?” 

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.” 

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for. 

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs. 

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face. 

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment. 

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.” 

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.” 

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?” 

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over. 

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-” 

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?” 

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke. 

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title. 

“I can handle that. Your deal?” 

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-” 

“Pass.” 

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly. 

“My soul then….” Raven muttered. 

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!” 

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.” 

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away. 

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.” 

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer. 

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?” 

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.” 

“Wha…” Flash muttered. 

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.” 

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.  

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.” 

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough. 

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked. 

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds. 

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction. 

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered. 

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity. 

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.” 

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly. 

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…” 

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.” 

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.” 

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?” 

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything. 

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced. 

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging. 

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.” 

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered. 

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes. 

“My food?” 

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.” 

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage. 

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?” 

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face. 

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green. 

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head. 

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.” 

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action. 

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water. 

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed. 

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating. 

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare. 

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale. 

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger. 

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing. 

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag. 

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small. 

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.” 

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form… 

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…” 

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.” 

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him. 

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.” 

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?” 

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.” 

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him. 

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?” 

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering. 

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin. 

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.” 

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression. 

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.” 

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.” 

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself. 

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either. 

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?” 

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.” 

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!” 

“No way.” 

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.” 

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame. 

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.” 

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

~~

Masterlist

#dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #Danny Phantom x Red Robin if you squint #Batman #Red Robin #superboy #conner kent #Raven #Flash

[arthur-r]

does “definitive, universal, and exclusive” make sense as stuff that people apply to definition of humanity?? i am revising my thing to make sure it’s good cause it’s due at 2:40 but i feel like i need a better word than universal or exclusive cause they really seem like antonyms and idk if it makes sense

#what i’m trying to say is like - one definition of humanity as a constant across cultures (saying like you gotta be close to god or you need #an entrepreneurial spirit or whatever being like a constant across all of humans and that’s why there’s capitalism even though it’s not true #and then exclusive as in when people do something bad they say aw man that’s so inhuman of you. which kind of just feels like deflecting #blame if that makes sense? like no actually humans do bad stuff sometimes lets work on it. just like when people say oh if you’re ____ then #you’re not a real punk and it’s like yeah sort of but also pay attention to the problems in your community #you don’t get to just say oh that person is actually not one of us. and then ignore the problems in your society #and then also like just how humans are like this special secret group and like specialer than all the other creatures #and then like when somebody is deemed not human for x y or z then they are unspecial too and sometimes the people doing the labeling are #racist dicks and so the point is putting a definition on humanity allows people to ignore the bad parts of their culture while concurrently #demonizing people of other cultures. and that’s what i’m trying to say and does anybody know a better list of adjectives to get it across #cause it just feels like universal and exclusive feel like antonyms and i need a word for universal that means universal to a group not to #the entire universe cause that’s what it sounds like when i say it) #anyway i appreciate it and it’s okay if nobody can help i’m gonna ask some of my classmates probably next hour and everything #also i had real coffee today like espresso and i usually have either decaf or milkshake almost-coffee cause of caffeine anxiety #and so wish me luck today is the point shdhdf. and i’ll be okay on assignment just help appreciated #sorry for filling my tumblr with english assignments all the time i’m not used to being in AP and it absorbs my entire life sometimes #which i’m not complaining cause i love literature and history and philosophy which is what this class is about. good things to be absorbt in #(absorbt isn’t a word shdhdf i was out of tag letters to say absorbed) #but anyway i feel like i’ve hardly been around except for talking about english class?? and for that i wish things were different #i’m in this class til the end of the year but next trimester is optional and should be slower so i should be around starting like next week #like maybe even on discord?? wouldn’t that be insane. want to do a video call with my friends i miss you guys #(talking about wext but hello nebulous tumblr people i wish i ever hung out with anybody) #anyway help appreciated but i would also just love to hear from my friends. hope you all are well #me. my post. mine. #delete later

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

#warm up #writeblr

[dcxdpdabbles]

I JUST SAW THESE POSTS OF DANNY BEING RAS AL GHUL CHILD LIKE THE FIRST THAT IS LIKE 25-30 YEARS OLDER THAN TALIA AND MAKE MY BRAIN WORKS FUCKING WIGGLE!?!?!??

anyway

Danny established the status quo and the disappeared for 20-60 years and the is summoned by Ra where he’s like “Dad you could’ve have called my personal phone you know that right?” And Ra’s like “YOU WENT OFF THE GRID FOR YEARS AND NEVER TOOD ME-!!??!? Now do you look different? Are you eating? What’s with comingoutthesummoningcirclefortheghostking? HMMM???”

“Ah- I knew I forgot something! Let me tell you all about it! I see you brought the whole fam and in laws let’s have dinner and discuss it- AWWWW THATS BABIES!!!” *Damian, Jason, Tim, and Dick being referred to as “babies”*

“Excuse me.” Danny then fucking tackles them in hugs and loves while dodging and/or holding their punches and kicks

"My maternal uncle is coming for a visit and likely evaluate my living arrangements.. We must be at our absolute best when he is here. " Damian announces one evening right as the family is finishing preparing for a night of crime fighting.

Everyone freezes from their respective stations, twisting around to stare at the young Robin in confusion. He doesn't notice; he is too busy making sure his katana is sharpened to perfection and balancing it on his fingertips.

"Baby Bat?" Dick calls, "What do you mean by that?"

Damian pauses in his prep work, approaching the eldest with a pretty impressive scowl. " Mother sent a messenger a few days ago about Uncle's plan audit. Should we fail it, I shall be removed into a different household."

"An audit? Removed?" Steph repeats, confused, but Damian has no idea why. He thought it was pretty apparent that Uncle Daniel would be scoring them, which would determine if Damian would be allowed to continue living within them. He has done so to all of Ra Al Ghul's offspring, and nothing his Grandfather has done has been able to stop him.

How could they think they would have more power than his grandfather?

"When shall Dusan be here?" Father asks, quickly switching on the home security. "What kind of attack should we expect?"

Damian scoffs, "Not the White Ghost. Uncle Dusan is on the other side of the world on a mission for Grandfather. No, Uncle Daniel will be the one conducting the suit. He is the eldest, after all."

Father's eyes narrow behind the white lenses of his masks. "I was unaware your mother had more siblings."

Damian considers the words, wondering how he could politely- at least he shames Alfred- remind his father that his grandfather has been around for hundreds of years. Staying at his peak through the usage of the Lazarus Pit, he has never been short of lovers.

And sometimes those lovers have given him children, many who aged and died naturally, as none has deemed worthy of the Lazarus. All except for one, the First Son, who has never needed the Pits but remained youthful and powerful on his own.

The perfect heir.

It's too bad he had abdicated long before Damian was even a thought.

"Grandfather has had many children, but Uncle Daniel is different. Special. He is the First Son."

"Capital letters," Todd cuts in, shaking his head. "It's never good when the League of Assiasans assigns capital letters. How strong is he?"

"He could easily best Grandfather and all under Grandfather's command," Damian replies, watching as the rest of the vigilantes grew uneasy by the information. It's good that they are wear of Uncle Daniel's power but they have nothing to fear of his wrath. "Uncle Daniel is a pacifist. He carries a protective core."

"A Al Ghul that a pacifist? I'll believe it when I see it." Drake droned as he was clipping on his utility belt. At once, Damian felt his body grew hot with rage. No matter what, it seemed Drake would always curse his family.

The way he says the family name drips with disrespect as if the other teen was saying a swear.

"My Uncle Daniel is a great man!" He shouts, gripping his sword so har his knuckles ache. Drake's face twists as if though he smelled something foul and the rage burning in Damian's chest spreads to his whole body.

He is just about to reach for his throwing knives when a familiar cold hand settles into his hair. "Aw thank you Little One. I love you too."

"Uncle Daniel!" Damian shouts excitably, forgetting the fool he was about to run his blades through. His uncle stands before him, the same darl night hair, warm blue eyes, and a crooked smile that had secretly comforted him in his youth.

"Where in the world did he come from!?" Damian hears one of Father's adopted brutes gasp but does not care to see who as his uncle quickly reels him in for a hug.

Hugging Uncle Daniel was like being wrapped in warm blankets in winter. He always ran rather cold, but it was lovely to be wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his protection.

It felt like nothing in the world could harm him from here.

"You seem well, Little One. Are you happy?" His uncle says. The delict of their native tongue is another comfort Damian can sink into.

"I am." He allows, snuggling his face against his stomach, as childish as it is. If only he could grow taller like his father.

"Wonderful. I'm so glad." His uncle then switches to English, ignoring all the weapons drawn and pointing at him from the Bats. Damian steps back to admire the man he wishes to grow into. "I'm terribly sorry for arriving so late, nephew. You must be tired. When is your bed time?"

"I do not have a bedtime." Damian scoffs. Uncle Daniel frowns, reaching into his chest to pull out a clipboard and a pen- he'll never get used to his uncle storing things within himself no matter how often he sees it. Damian is pretty sure he heard someone gag.

A soft click is heard as his uncle opens the pen and quickly scribbles something down. He is not tall enough to see what is written, but he can see clearly as day that his uncle selected the red ink of the muli-color pen he is using.

He only uses red when he is doing bad things. Damian breaks into a sweat. "What was that? Uncle what did you just write?"

"No bedtime. Tsk tsk." Uncle Daniel mutters, looking around the cave with disapproval. "No proper heating living space."

"Oh no! I do not live down here. This is merely the training grounds. We live upstairs" Damian quickly says, waving his hands frantically in the air as his uncle's unimpressed look. Curses, the auduit just began and already he got bad markings.

"Would you care for a tour? I shall not be going on patrol-"

"He forces you to fight crime? At your age?" Uncle barks, throwing a look of utter disgust at Father. It's the same one he gives Grandfather whenever the older man tries to raise child soldiers.

Even Damian had not been sent on any missions. His childhood had been intense training but nothing that was life-threatening.

"I volunteered to go!" He tries to defend Father, but his uncle only clicks his pen and scrambles more red ink on his paper.

Drat and Damian were actually enjoying living at the manor. He will likely have to say goodbye to it all and be moved to some house Uncle deemed more child-friendly.

"What is your diet here? Have you been taken to the doctor? Any form of therapy?" His uncle fires each question quickly, walking through Todd and Cain when they try to apprehend him without a glance.

His uncle is, and not to sound like the fools of his school, so cool.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #The Audit #Damian's cool uncle Danny #In which Danny was reborn as Daniel Al Ghul four hundred and ten years ago as Ra's first born son #Then went all Ghost King on him #and now travels the world making sure kid's safety laws are followed #Sorry I know it's not what you were picturing but it's all I could think of.

[elliebarker]

yessss cc fic plz there’s not nearly enough

fuɔk me. ( c. clark )

category: caitlin clark x girlfriend!reader (angst, fluff)

summary: after seeing you talking to another after one of her games, caitlin goes into an obsessive spiral of jealousy, unknowingly sending you down your own rabbit hole.

warnings: way sadder than i intended 

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: i tried capital letters, y’all fw it?

_________________________________________

“I mean, it was electric, truly.”

Caitlin’s voice echoed into the microphone of a random media reporter who was interviewing her. She tried her best to stay focused on the questions whilst the camera clicked and pump-up music blared. Iowa had just won a home game and she knew you were in the crowd. She regained consciousness with the present and began answering the interview questions with basic textbook answers about ‘the Iowa culture’ and how great her shots felt, whilst scouring the stadium for you. You interlocked eyes and waved to her. She waved back and politely wrapped things up with the media girl (hehe) and headed your way. 

In the minutes she had spent with her eyes off of you, an umich girl from the opposing team had walked up to you. She was, in Caitlin’s eyes, getting a little too friendly. Smirking, and smiling too wide. Caitlin backed away, choosing to head to her teammates instead and pose in photos with fans. See… people love me she thought. And we literally bet them and that fucking umich girl had the nerv-

“Caitlin!” you ran, hugging her from behind. “You do so good, omg!” 

“Thanks, babe.” She slipped away from you, cold and isolated. Caitlin spent the night with the girls on her team, which wasn’t irregular for away games, but you were looking forward to getting to spend time with her when she was actually in town. You were slumped in your apartment, staring at yourself in the mirror, picking a pulling at your skin, hair, and hair. Meanwhile, Caitlin was glued to her phone in the corner of the room her teammates were in. Staring at that umich girl’s stats and Instagram. Caitlin knew she was a good player, she knew she was a good girlfriend, she knew you. She knew you wouldn’t do her wrong but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. About finding someone different. She knew she wasn’t there for you all the time, on account of her schedule with basketball that seemed never-ending. She felt like a bad girlfriend. You deserved the world, more than she could ever give you.

Sounds of shoes squeaking and balls dribbling filled her ears as Caitlin entered Iowa’s gym. After nights of stressing, overthinking, and flashes of your interaction with the umich girl appearing in her head, Caitlin was ready to clear her head with some practice. She stretched, dripped the ball a bit, and began shooting. First shot, miss. She went and grabbed the ball. Second shot, miss. Everyone has bad days. The third shot, she could barely focus, overwhelmed with this stinging feeling of inferiority as she missed that basket. “Fuɔk me,” she muttered under her breath. She suddenly turned around when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Kate was standing, now facing her. “Hey Caitlin, can we talk?” 

“Yeah of course, what’s up?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of off…down, you okay?”

“Um yeah,” she tried to hold her guard up, “yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled, “Need to lock in.” Kate laughed, agreed, and went on with her practice.

Later that day you, being friendly with the Iowa team, reached out to Kate. You texted her, 

You: hi kate!

i haven’t seen caitlin in a bit and just wanted to check in and make sure she’s doing okay

Kate: Hey! Thanks for reaching out, she has been acting a little weird. 

I was going to ask you but I guess you don’t know what’s up either.

You: no, i don’t know

has she talked about me?

at all?

Kate: No, not really. Is everything okay?

You: (…)

You stared at your phone for a solid five minutes attempting to keep your emotions under control.

You: yep! everything's good

just been a hot minute since ive seen her

but thats prob just cause shes so busy lol

Kate: Fair. But if anything does you can always talk to me.’

You: awww thanks kate! that's so sweet.

Days passed and you finally got a day to spend with Caitlin. You had invited her over to your apartment. You had excitedly and worriedly done up your hair and makeup, cleaned and refreshed every inch of your apartment: fresh sheets and fresh flowers, and made sure to wear an outfit you knew she liked. You felt it in your bones that your behavior was suspicious and 100% fueled by insecurity but you told yourself that you were doing this to make Caitlin feel comfortable, let her relax from working so hard. Totally not convincing her to want to stay with you. 

You and Caitlin were in your bed watching a tv-show and you could sense something was off. “Hey baby, can I get you anything?” you ask, trying to make yourself useful. 

“Um, yeah sure,” she replied, “water works.” You scoot yourself off the bed and head to the kitchen. Caitlin watches as you walk away, thinking about how you’re perfect in every way. She pulls out her phone, and her most recent search on instagram, umich bitch, is controlling her thoughts again. 

You come back with a glass of water for Caitlin and see she’s engulfed in her phone. Goddamnit you’ve bored her.

“I’m sorry,” you muster out. The stress of the possible end of your relationship that you conquered up in your head makes you almost fold into tears.

Caitlin sprung up, “Sorry, babe, sorry about what?” she went to hold you. You slithered yourself out of her arms,

“You’re probably sick of me, I need to stop holding onto you.” 

“What?” Caitlin asked, “Okay, first of all, I would never be sick of you. You are the most gorgeous, fearless, kindest, perfect girl I’ve ever seen. I would be crazy to ever let you go. But I know you deserve, you need better than me.” your tears turned to happy ones as you exclaimed,

“Caitlin what? You are the best girlfriend in the whole wide world.” You grabbed her face in your hands as hers found their natural place around your hips.

“I love you,” she whispered before moving her face close to yours and kissing you passionately. Your arms wrapped themselves around her neck as you leaned into the kiss. You slightly pulled away, whispering back, 

“I love you too.” Caitlin then pulled open her phone, to delete the umich player from her search history, but not without catching your nosy eye. “Wait. This was about her?” 

“What?” Caitlin said, trying to sound clueless.

“I spoke to her for five seconds? Wait…you were jealous?” you inquired. 

“No- I- who-” she stuttered, trying to deny it. “Also, I don’t get jealous.”

“You goofball,” you said, pulling her into a deeper kiss, to which Caitlin picked you up and plopped you back onto your bed, pulling you into her chest, and kissing your forehead.

“I don’t get jealous” she re-enstated.

“Mhmmmmm…” you replied, nodding your head, in a non-believeing tone. “Got it. Not jealous.”

“I’m being serious,” she said. You, too lazy to lift your head, nodded and closed your eyes falling into a deep sleep, to which Caitlin would follow you.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wbb #ncaa wbb #wbb x reader #caitlin x reader #wbb fanfic #caitlin clark fic

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. gojo and reader are in an semi-established relationship although he is referred to as boyfriend in this. cw: food, tantanmen is a spicy ramen soup. hurt/comfort if you squint, bad day lamentations, and one of my personal favorite gojo facts: man hates spicy food. i also hc him as a picky eater so here we go.

wc 1.5k | divider by cafekitsune

“I want tantanmen.”

Satoru’s bottom lip begins sticking out as soon as he hears the first letter of his most dreaded of your post-stressful day cravings leave your mouth.  

The bane of his existence - spicy food. It overwhelms his senses, a fact you’re well aware of, making it a rarity that you would even ask. That’s how he knows today has been capital-R rough for you and although he wants to help make your difficult day better, there’s hesitation in his step and he stops you on the train platform to put his hands on your shoulders. His grip is just firm enough to bring you comfort and you glance up at him looking so dejected he almost thinks better of his next question. Consideration - something he is not always the best at doing - be damned, he cannot stop himself before the words slip out.  

“Are you sure you don’t want something else instead?”

Hurt flashes across your face and you don’t bother to hide it. Every single one of your boyfriend’s whims is surrendered to no matter how ridiculous it is, trips and meals and sex positions and a million other tiny things you do to make him happy despite his insistence he doesn’t need them. Sure, it’s unfair for you to expect the same in return given you do it with no expectation of reciprocation but for once it would be nice to not have your choices questioned.

“You told me I could get anything I wanted and it was your treat. Are you changing your mind?”  

You raise a brow, slacken your jaw, and harden your gaze that is pointed upward in his direction. 

“I’ve had a rough day, Satoru. All I need is something so spicy it makes me cry.”

The tears threatening to fall from your lash line aren’t fake or for “getting your own way” purposes, you genuinely feel like you’re on the brink of tears and have all day. A scolding from Yaga, a disagreement regarding curriculum with Utahime via intense text message exchange, blatant disrespect from your students that they have yet to apologize - every bad moment piled up into something heavy to carry that weighs down on your chest. Thankfully, Satoru knows you well enough to be able to tell that you are being honest about the way you feel and arguing is futile.

“Fine,” he agrees with a loud exhale. “But on the way home we’re going to stop and get something edible to people who aren’t crazy, okay?”

Reaching for his hand, you nod and snuggle into his arm. Lacing your fingers between his, the stress visibly melts from you and a minuscule part of him feels bad for putting up an argument to your wishes at all. Is this really how he’s going to act when you are so undeniably sweet to him when you want to be? How many of his whims do you give into without having to think about it at all? Sighing, he leans toward you and kisses the top of your head, crowding you closer against his body. 

“You’re not going to make me try it this time?”

“No. I only did that once and besides, their menu is big. You are bound to find something you like if you just look.”

Giggling, you cling to his side and shrug playfully. The distinct shine of tears in your eyes has dissipated and your smile seems warmer than earlier, making him feel slightly less guilty for his blunder. 

Guilt isn’t something that he really dwells on often, as impermanent as the rest of his emotions tend to be, but it’s different when it’s you. Keeping you happy is just about the only thing he hasn’t been perfect at on the first attempt yet he keeps trying and figuring it out a little more every day. He figures you out a little more every day, honestly. It’s what keeps him coming back.

“But I like eating the same thing as you.” Satoru pouts again and you roll your eyes, squeezing your arm that is wrapped around his bicep. “I know but sometimes it doesn’t hurt either of us to try something new or different from the other.”

He hums his disbelief and the two of you walk alongside one another toward the gate.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ordering your spicy soup with a smile at the front counter while your boyfriend situates the table the two of you will be sitting at, you check over your shoulder once before leaning in the direction of the young woman taking your order.

“I have a really weird request.”

She nods politely and you take a deep breath, knowing how rude it is to ask for changes to menu items when there are so many. Despite the impoliteness, you feel obligated to give him a little break while taking into consideration the one he has given you tonight.

“So the tantanmen…is there any way I could get just the broth and noodles without anything else?” The young woman blinks at you unenthusiastically and you straighten your shoulders, putting on your most winning smile. “How about a child’s serving with less spice? Is that something you could do?”

Wordlessly, she glances over your shoulder at the table your over six and a half feet tall man sits at in search of a child that could possibly need this kind of accommodation for their food. She spots none, only your boyfriend who is grinning down at his phone and laughing to himself.

“It’s for him. He doesn’t do spice very well, I know that’s ridiculous but we always order the same thing and I understand if you can’t do it. I just had to ask.”

She hums and presses the buttons on the screen in front of her, turning it to show you. One order of soup, extra spicy for you. One order of soup, just broth and no spice for Gojo. Gratefully, you bow your head and she plays it off with a smile. Even she can’t be terribly annoyed at a couple that clearly has figured out one another’s whims and she instructs you to go and sit at your table to await your order.

Sliding in next to him on the same side of the booth, as always, you grin and he puts his phone down immediately to wrap his arm around your shoulder. 

“What’d you order me?”

You shrug playfully and he gasps.

“You know I’ll simply go on hunger strike if you got me something spicy…” he trails off and you laugh, reaching up to tug on his earlobe the way you always do when he’s running his mouth. “You’ll just have to see what surprise I have in store.”

The two of you chit chat for a few minutes but the soup comes more quickly than you expected. Satoru’s face lights up when his eyes glance down at a bowl full of silky broth, pulling apart his chopsticks delightedly. It’s the same thing you have, just a little different and exactly how he likes it.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!”

Laughing, you shake your head and follow his lead, glancing down into your own steaming bowl of relief. Opening your chopsticks, breaking them apart, giving thanks for the meal, they’re all as natural as breathing at this point and you smile at him again as he glances down into your bowl.

The broth of your soup is as red as anything he has ever seen.

“That looks like the fire of Hell,” he scoffs, scooping broth into his mouth and swallowing quickly. 

You take a sip from your spoon and sigh in relief, shoulders relaxing into a natural position instead of curved forward sadly. Despite his earlier protests, there’s nothing he’d rather do than sit here and watch you eat your troubles away, pinkies of both of your free hands touching below the table. 

“It just might be.”

The spice makes you sniffle and he’s quick to pick up a napkin, dabbing at the tip of your nose to make sure no dribbles have occurred. This is another habit he has picked up after all this time watching you challenge yourself to meals he wouldn’t touch if he had to. Wiping your nose and cheeks and making sure you drink water.

“Thank you for treating me.”

Leaning over your bowl, you slurp a mouthful of noodles and chew it thoughtfully. He watches your mouth and jaw move, reaching up to cup your face but stopping himself from kissing you with your mouth full. It wouldn’t be the first time but that damned spicy broth is all over your lips and he won’t take the risk as badly as he wants to.

“Thanks for letting me, you freak of nature.”

Giggling, you shrug and lean into his touch.

“It takes one to know one.”

No argument from him.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #kendall writes #satoken

[mostlysignssomeportents]

It was all downhill after the Cuecat

Sometime in 2001, I walked into a Radio Shack on San Francisco’s Market Street and asked for a Cuecat: a handheld barcode scanner that looked a bit like a cat and a bit like a sex toy. The clerk handed one over to me and I left, feeling a little giddy. I didn’t have to pay a cent.

The Cuecat was a good idea and a terrible idea. The good idea was to widely distribute barcode scanners to computer owners, along with software that could read and decode barcodes; the company’s marketing plan called for magazines and newspapers to print barcodes alongside ads and articles, so readers could scan them and be taken to the digital edition. To get the Cuecat into widespread use, the company raised millions in the capital markets, then mass-manufactured these things and gave them away for free at Radio Shacks around the country. Every Wired and Forbes subscriber got one in the mail!

That was the good idea (it’s basically a prototype for today’s QR-codes). The terrible idea was that this gadget would spy on you. Also, it would only work with special barcodes that had to be licensed from the manufacturer. Also, it would only work on Windows.

https://web.archive.org/web/20001017162623/http://www.businessweek.com/bwdaily/dnflash/sep2000/nf20000928_029.htm

But the manufacturer didn’t have the last word! Not at all. A couple of enterprising hardware hackers — Pierre-Philippe Coupard and Michael Rothwell — tore down a Cuecat, dumped its ROM, and produced their own driver for it — a surveillance-free driver that worked with any barcode. You could use it to scan the UPCs on your books or CDs or DVDs to create a catalog of your media; you could use it to scan UPCs on your groceries to make a shopping list. You could do any and every one of these things, because the Cuecat was yours.

Cuecat’s manufacturer, Digital Convergence, did not like this at all. They sent out legal demand letters and even shut down some of the repositories that were hosting alternative Cuecat firmware. They changed the license agreement that came with the Cuecat software CD to prohibit reverse-engineering.

http://www.cexx.org/cuecat.htm

It didn’t matter, both as a practical matter and as a matter of law. As a practical matter, the (ahem) cat was out of the bag: there were so many web-hosting companies back then, and people mirrored the code to so many of them, the company would have its hands full chasing them all down and intimidating them into removing the code.

Then there was the law: how could you impose license terms on a gift? How could someone be bound by license terms on a CD that they simply threw away without ever opening it, much less putting it in their computer?

https://slashdot.org/story/00/09/18/1129226/digital-convergence-changes-eula-and-gets-cracked

In the end, Cuecat folded and sold off its remaining inventory. The early 2000s were not a good time to be a tech company, much less a tech company whose business model required millions of people to meekly accept a bad bargain.

Back then, tech users didn’t feel any obligation to please tech companies’ shareholders: if they backed a stupid business, that was their problem, not ours. Venture capitalists were capitalists — if they wanted us give to them according to their need and take from them according to their ability, they should be venture communists.

Last August, philosopher and Centre for Technomoral Futures director Shannon Vallor tweeted, “The saddest thing for me about modern tech’s long spiral into user manipulation and surveillance is how it has just slowly killed off the joy that people like me used to feel about new tech. Every product Meta or Amazon announces makes the future seem bleaker and grayer.”

https://twitter.com/ShannonVallor/status/1559659655097376768

She went on: “I don’t think it’s just my nostalgia, is it? There’s no longer anything being promised to us by tech companies that we actually need or asked for. Just more monitoring, more nudging, more draining of our data, our time, our joy.”

https://twitter.com/ShannonVallor/status/1559663985821106177

Today on Tumblr, @wilwheaton​ responded: “[T]here is very much no longer a feeling of ‘How can this change/improve my life?’ and a constant dread of ‘How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity in a world that demands I have this thing to operate.’”

https://wilwheaton.tumblr.com/post/698603648058556416/cory-doctorow-if-you-see-this-and-have-thoughts

Wil finished with, “Cory Doctorow, if you see this and have thoughts, I would LOVE to hear them.”

I’ve got thoughts. I think this all comes back to the Cuecat.

When the Cuecat launched, it was a mixed bag. That’s generally true of technology — or, indeed, any product or service. No matter how many variations a corporation offers, they can never anticipate all the ways that you will want or need to use their technology. This is especially true for the users the company values the least — poor people, people in the global south, women, sex workers, etc.

That’s what makes the phrase “So easy your mom can use it” particularly awful “Moms” are the kinds of people whose priorities and difficulties are absent from the room when tech designers gather to plan their next product. The needs of “moms” are mostly met by mastering, configuring and adapting technology, because tech doesn’t work out of the box for them:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/19/the-weakest-link/#moms-are-ninjas

(As an alternative, I advocate for “so easy your boss can use it,” because your boss gets to call up the IT department and shout, “I don’t care what it takes, just make it work!” Your boss can solve problems through raw exercise of authority, without recourse to ingenuity.)

Technology can’t be understood separately from technology users. This is the key insight in Donald Norman’s 2004 book Emotional Design, which argued that the ground state of all technology is broken, and the overarching task of tech users is to troubleshoot the things they use:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#cuckoos-egg

Troubleshooting is both an art and a science: it requires both a methodical approach and creative leaps. The great crisis of troubleshooting is that the more frustrated and angry you are, the harder it is to be methodical or creative. Anger turns attention into a narrow tunnel of brittle movements and thinking.

In Emotional Design, Norman argues that technology should be beautiful and charming, because when you like a technology that has stopped working, you are able to troubleshoot it in an expansive, creative, way. Emotional Design was not merely remarkable for what it said, but for who said it.

Donald Norman, after all, was the author of the hugely influential 1998 classic The Design of Everyday Things, which counseled engineers and designers to put function over form — to design things that work well, even if that meant stripping away ornament and sidelining aesthetics.

https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/don-norman/the-design-of-everyday-things/9780465050659/

With Emotional Design, Norman argued that aesthetics were functional, because aesthetics primed users to fix the oversights and errors and blind spots of designers. It was a manifesto for competence and humility.

And yet, as digital technology has permeated deeper into our lives, it has grown less configurable, not more. Companies today succeed where Cuecat failed. Consolidation in the online world means that if you remove a link from one search engine and four social media sites, the material in question vanishes for 99% of internet users.

It’s even worse for apps: anyone who succeeds in removing an app from two app stores essentially banishes it from the world. One mobile platform uses technological and legal countermeasures to make it virtually impossible to sideload an app; the other one relies on strong-arm tactics and deceptive warnings to do so.

That means that when a modern Coupard and Rothwell decides to unfuck some piece of technology — to excise the surveillance and proprietary media requirements, leaving behind the welcome functionality — they can only do so with the sufferance of the manufacturer. If the manufacturer doesn’t like an add-on, mod, plug-in or overlay, they can use copyright takedowns, anticircumvention law, patent threats, trademark threats, cybersecurity law, contract law and other “IP” to simply banish the offending code:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Many of these laws carry dire penalties. For example, distributing a tool that bypasses an “access control” so that you can change the software on a gadget (say, to make your printer accept third-party ink) is a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA, punishable by a $500k fine and a 5-year prison sentence.

If Cuecat’s manufacturers had simply skinned their firmware with a thin scrim of DRM, they could have threatened Coupard and Rothwell with prison sentences. The developments in “IP” over the two decades since the Cuecat have conjured up a new body of de facto law that Jay Freeman calls “felony contempt of business model.”

Once we gave companies the power to literally criminalize the reconfiguration of their products, everything changed. In the Cuecat era, a corporate meeting to plan a product that acted against its users’ interests had to ask, “How will we sweeten the pot and/or obfuscate our code so that our users don’t remove the anti-features we’re planning to harm them with?”

But in a world of Felony Contempt of Business Model, that discussion changes to “Given that we can literally imprison anyone who helps our users get more out of this product, how can we punish users who are disloyal enough to simply quit our service or switch away from our product?”

That is, “how can we raise the switching costs of our products so that users who are angry at us keep using our products?” When Facebook was planning its photos product, they deliberately designed it to tempt users into making it the sole repository of their family photos, in order to hold those photos ransom to keep Facebook users from quitting for G+:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

Companies claim that their lock-in strategies are about protecting their users: “Move into our walled garden, for it is a fortress, whose battlements bristle with fearsome warriors who will defend you from the bandits who roam the countryside”:

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

But this “feudal security” offers a terrible temptation to the lords of these fortresses, because once you are inside those walls, the fortress can easily be converted to a prison: these companies can abuse you with impunity, for so long as the cost of the abuse is less than the cost of the things you must give up when you leave.

The tale that companies block you from overriding their decisions is for your own good was always dubious, because companies simply can’t anticipate all the ways their products will fail you. No design team knows as much about your moment-to-moment struggles as you do.

But even where companies are sincere in their desire to be the most benevolent of dictators, the gun on the mantelpiece in Act I is destined to go off by Act III: eventually, the temptation to profit by hurting you will overpower whatever “corporate ethics” once stayed the hand of the techno-feudalist who rules over your fortress. Under feudal security, you are one lapse in corporate leadership from your protector turning into your tormentor.

When Apple launched the Ipad 12 years ago, I published an editorial entitled “Why I won’t buy an iPad (and think you shouldn’t, either),” in which I predicted that app stores would inevitable be turned against users:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Today, Apple bans apps if they “use…a third-party service” unless they “are specifically permitted to do so under the service’s terms of use.” In other words, Apple specifically prohibits developers from offering tools that displease other companies’ shareholders, no matter whether this pleases Apple customers:

https://developer.apple.com/app-store/review/guidelines/#intellectual-property

Note that clause 5.2.2 of Apple’s developer agreement doesn’t say “You mustn’t violate a legally enforceable term of service.” It just says, “Thou shalt not violate a EULA.” EULAs are garbage-novellas of impenetrable legalese, larded with unenforceable and unconscionable terms.

Apple sometimes will displease other companies on your behalf. For example, it instituted a one-click anti-tracking setting for Ios that cost Facebook $10 billion in a matter of months:

https://www.cnbc.com/2022/02/02/facebook-says-apple-ios-privacy-change-will-cost-10-billion-this-year.html

But Apple also has big plans to expand its margins by growing its own advertising network. When Apple customers choose ad-blockers that block Apple’s ads, will Apple permit it?

https://www.wired.com/story/apple-is-an-ad-company-now/

The problem with app stores isn’t whether your computing experience is “curated” — that is, whether entities you trust can produce collections of software they vouch for. The problem is when you can’t choose someone else — when leaving a platform involves high switching costs, whether that’s having to replace hardware, buy new media, or say goodbye to your friends, customers, community or family.

When a company can leverage its claims to protecting you to protect itself from you — from choices you might make that ultimately undermine its shareholders interests, even if they protect your own interests — it would be pretty goddamned naive to expect it to do otherwise.

More and more of our tools are now digital tools, whether we’re talking about social media or cars, tractors or games consoles, toothbrushes or ovens:

https://www.hln.be/economie/gentse-foodboxleverancier-mealhero-failliet-klanten-weten-van-niets~a3139f52/

And more and more, those digital tools look more like apps than Cuecats, with companies leveraging “IP” to let them control who can compete with them — and how. Indeed, browsers are becoming more app-like, rather than the other way around.

Back in 2017, the W3C took the unprecedented step of publishing a DRM standard despite this standard not having anything like the consensus that is the norm for W3C publications, and the W3C rejected a proposal to protect people who reverse-engineered that standard to add accessibility features or correct privacy defects:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

And while we’re seeing remarkable progress on Right to Repair and other policies that allow the users of technology to override the choices of vendors, there’s another strong regulatory current that embraces companies’ ability to control their users, in the hopes that these big companies will police their users to prevent bad stuff, from controversial measures like filtering for copyright infringement to more widely supported ideas like blocking child sex abuse material (CSAM, AKA “child porn”).

There are two problems with this. First, if we tell companies they must control their users (that is, block them from running plugins, mods, skins, filters, etc) then we can’t tell them that they must not control their users. It comes down to whether you want to make Mark Zuckerberg better at his job, or whether you want to abolish the job of “Mark Zuckerberg.”

https://doctorow.medium.com/unspeakable-8c7bbd4974bc

Then there’s the other problem — the gun on the mantelpiece problem. If we give big companies the power to control their users, they will face enormous internal pressure to abuse that power. This isn’t a hypothetical risk: Facebook’s top executives stand accused of accepting bribes from Onlyfans in exchange for adding performers who left Onlyfans to a terrorist watchlist, which meant they couldn’t use other platforms:

https://gizmodo.com/clegg-meta-executives-identified-in-onlyfans-bribery-su-1849649270

I’m not a fan of terrorist watchlists, for obvious reasons. But letting Facebook manage the terrorist watchlist was clearly a mistake. But Facebook’s status as a “trusted reporter” grows directly out of Facebook’s good work on moderation. The lesson is the same as the one with Apple and the ads — just because the company sometimes acts in our interests, it doesn’t follow that we should always trust them to do so.

Back to Shannon Vallor’s question about the origins of “modern tech’s long spiral into user manipulation and surveillance” and how that “killed off the joy that people like me used to feel about new tech”; and Wil Wheaton’s “constant dread of ‘How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity.”

Tech leaders didn’t get stupider or crueler since those halcyon days. The tech industry was and is filled with people who made their bones building weapons of mass destruction for the military-industrial complex; IBM, the company that gave us the PC, built the tabulating machines for Nazi concentration camps:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBM_and_the_Holocaust

We didn’t replace tech investors and leaders with worse people — we have the same kinds of people but we let them get away with more. We let them buy up all their competitors. We let them use the law to lock out competitors they couldn’t buy, including those who would offer their customers tools to lower their switching costs and block abusive anti-features.

We decided to create “Felony Contempt of Business Model,” and let the creators of the next Cuecat reach beyond the walls of their corporate headquarters and into the homes of their customers, the offices of their competitors, and the handful of giant tech sites that control our online discourse, to reach into those places and strangle anything that interfered with their commercial desires.

That’s why plans to impose interoperability on tech giants are so exciting — because the problem with Facebook isn’t “the people I want to speak to are all gathered in one convenient place,” no more than the problem with app stores isn’t “these companies generally have good judgment about which apps I want to use.”

The problem is that when those companies don’t have your back, you have to pay a blisteringly high price to leave their walled gardens. That’s where interop comes in. Think of how an interoperable Facebook could let you leave behind Zuckerberg’s dominion without forswearing access to the people who matter to you:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

Cuecats were cool. The people who made them were assholes. Interop meant that you could get the cool gadget and tell the assholes to fuck off. We have lost the ability to do so, little by little, for decades, and that’s why a new technology that seems cool no longer excites. That’s why we feel dread — because we know that a cool technology is just bait to lure us into a prison that masquerades as a fortress.

Image: Jerry Whiting (modified) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:CueCat_barcode_scanner.jpg

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

[Image ID: A Cuecat scanner with a bundled cable and PS/2 adapter; it resembles a plastic cat and also, slightly, a sex toy. It is posed on a Matrix movie 'code waterfall' background and limned by a green 'supernova' light effect.]

#pluralistic

[autisticandroids]

i've been seeing ai takes that i actually agree with and have been saying for months get notes so i want to throw my hat into the ring.

so i think there are two main distinct problems with "ai," which exist kind of in opposition to each other. the first happens when ai is good at what it's supposed to do, and the second happens when it's bad at it.

the first is well-exemplified by ai visual art. now, there are a lot of arguments about the quality of ai visual art, about how it's soulless, or cliche, or whatever, and to those i say: do you think ai art is going to be replacing monet and picasso? do you think those pieces are going in museums? no. they are going to be replacing soulless dreck like corporate logos, the sprites for low-rent edugames, and book covers with that stupid cartoon art style made in canva. the kind of art that everyone thinks of as soulless and worthless anyway. the kind of art that keeps people with art degrees actually employed.

this is a problem of automation. while ai art certainly has its flaws and failings, the main issue with it is that it's good enough to replace crap art that no one does by choice. which is a problem of capitalism. in a society where people don't have to sell their labor to survive, machines performing labor more efficiently so humans don't have to is a boon! this is i think more obviously true for, like, manufacturing than for art - nobody wants to be the guy putting eyelets in shoes all day, and everybody needs shoes, whereas a lot of people want to draw their whole lives, and nobody needs visual art (not the way they need shoes) - but i think that it's still true that in a perfect world, ai art would be a net boon, because giving people without the skill to actually draw the ability to visualize the things they see inside their head is... good? wider access to beauty and the ability to create it is good? it's not necessary, it's not vital, but it is cool. the issue is that we live in a society where that also takes food out of people's mouths.

but the second problem is the much scarier one, imo, and it's what happens when ai is bad. in the current discourse, that's exemplified by chatgpt and other large language models. as much hand-wringing as there has been about chatgpt replacing writers, it's much worse at imitating human-written text than, say, midjourney is at imitating human-made art. it can imitate style well, which means that it can successfully replace text that has no meaningful semantic content - cover letters, online ads, clickbait articles, the kind of stuff that says nothing and exists to exist. but because it can't evaluate what's true, or even keep straight what it said thirty seconds ago, it can't meaningfully replace a human writer. it will honestly probably never be able to unless they change how they train it, because the way LLMs work is so antithetical to how language and writing actually works.

the issue is that people think it can. which means they use it to do stuff it's not equipped for. at best, what you end up with is a lot of very poorly written children's books selling on amazon for $3. this is a shitty scam, but is mostly harmless. the behind the bastards episode on this has a pretty solid description of what that looks like right now, although they also do a lot of pretty pointless fearmongering about the death of art and the death of media literacy and saving the children. (incidentally, the "comics" described demonstrate the ways in which ai art has the same weaknesses as ai text - both are incapable of consistency or narrative. it's just that visual art doesn't necessarily need those things to be useful as art, and text (often) does). like, overall, the existence of these kids book scams are bad? but they're a gnat bite.

to find the worst case scenario of LLM misuse, you don't even have to leave the amazon kindle section. you don't even have to stop looking at scam books. all you have to do is change from looking at kids books to foraging guides. i'm not exaggerating when i say that in terms of texts whose factuality has direct consequences, foraging guides are up there with building safety regulations. if a foraging guide has incorrect information in it, people who use that foraging guide will die. that's all there is to it. there is no antidote to amanita phalloides poisoning, only supportive care, and even if you survive, you will need a liver transplant.

the problem here is that sometimes it's important for text to be factually accurate. openart isn't marketed as photographic software, and even though people do use it to lie, they have also been using photoshop to do that for decades, and before that it was scissors and paintbrushes. chatgpt and its ilk are sometimes marketed as fact-finding software, search engine assistants and writing assistants. and this is dangerous. because while people have been lying intentionally for decades, the level of misinformation potentially provided by chatgpt is unprecedented. and then there are people like the foraging book scammers who aren't lying on purpose, but rather not caring about the truth content of their output. obviously this happens in real life - the kids book scam i mentioned earlier is just an update of a non-ai scam involving ghostwriters - but it's much easier to pull off, and unlike lying for personal gain, which will always happen no matter how difficult it is, lying out of laziness is motivated by, well, the ease of the lie.* if it takes fifteen minutes and a chatgpt account to pump out fake foraging books for a quick buck, people will do it.

*also part of this is how easy it is to make things look like high effort professional content - people who are lying out of laziness often do it in ways that are obviously identifiable, and LLMs might make it easier to pass basic professionalism scans.

and honestly i don't think LLMs are the biggest problem that machine learning/ai creates here. while the ai foraging books are, well, really, really bad, most of the problem content generated by chatgpt is more on the level of scam children's books. the entire time that the internet has been shitting itself about ai art and LLM's i've been pulling my hair out about the kinds of priorities people have, because corporations have been using ai to sort the resumes of job applicants for years, and it turns out the ai is racist. there are all sorts of ways machine learning algorithms have been integrated into daily life over the past decade: predictive policing, self-driving cars, and even the youtube algorithm. and all of these are much more dangerous (in most cases) than chatgpt. it makes me insane that just because ai art and LLMs happen to touch on things that most internet users are familiar with the working of, people are freaking out about it because it's the death of art or whatever, when they should have been freaking out about the robot telling the cops to kick people's faces in.

(not to mention the environmental impact of all this crap.)

#ai art #ai #chatgpt

[kiss-me-cill-me]

The Ninth Crewmember

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: You are the ninth crewmember aboard Icarus II, and as the journey wears on you begin to find it harder and harder to ignore your feelings for Capa. Maybe it would be easier if he'd quit dragging you into bed with him...

Warnings: Smut, mentions of reader taking birth control pills as well as other medications, mild angst/pining, nightmares, literal sleeping together, the fun kind of sleeping together, Capa is a bit of a dick but also a sadboi, teasing, begging, use of "good girl" (whoops), bad puns

A/N: Can you tell that I struggle with titles haha? Anyway, finally getting around to cross-posting this from AO3 in my continued attempts to fuel @cillmequick's Capa thots 😉

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your fingers hovered over the panel, looking for the button you were supposed to press. They were all clearly labeled, but there were so many of them that you were having a hard time locating the one you needed. Your index finger moved hesitantly closer to a square near the bottom right of the panel.

“Not that one.”

Capa’s voice behind you made you jump. He sounded… not exactly annoyed, but tired by having to explain again what you were supposed to be doing. Your cheeks heated up as he leaned in close, chin hovering just above your shoulder as he looked at the panel.

“That one.”

He pointed at a button in the lower left, which, embarrassingly, was flashing bright orange and labeled “TEST” in all capital letters. You felt the need to apologize, but held your tongue. Capa went back to doing whatever it was he had been concentrating on before, at the other end of the room. The space he left in his wake felt oddly noticeable.

“Okay,” he said, taking his time to flip a couple of switches above his head. “Ready in three… two… one…”

You pressed the button as he finished counting down, and instantly the room in front of the control chamber was filled with spots of twinkling light. They seemed to dance over every surface for just a moment. The display lasted for less than three seconds, but it was breathtaking even in impermanence. 

You looked over at Capa, your eyes still shining with the beauty of it, only to see him calmly taking notes. His expression was carefully neutral, lips pressed together as he scribbled with short, purposeful strokes. 

“Capa?” you asked.

“Hm?”

He didn’t look up as he continued to record his observations, and you didn’t wait for him to before continuing.

“Do you think the real thing will look like that?”

Capa stopped writing for a moment, and seemed to consider your question seriously before answering.

“No,” he said finally, putting his stylus down and fixing you with a gaze that made you breath stop. “Even after watching a thousand of these simulations, I don’t think that any one of them could ever capture the true beauty. What it will really look like.”

You were standing a few feet away from him, fixed in place by his intense gaze. Something about Capa had fascinated you, from the moment you’d stepped aboard Icarus II. His bluntness, maybe, or the way his eyes seemed to scan over everything in front of him, as if he were reading it all - people, data, situations - like they were a book. And you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make your heart swell whenever he did it to you.

“You and I will be some of the only people to ever live who will see something so magnificent,” Capa said quietly. “We should count ourselves lucky.”

You nodded in agreement, too entranced and too afraid of flubbing your words to reply.

“Thank you for your help,” Capa continued. He went back to note taking, as if he hadn’t just been waxing poetic about life and the universe. “You can go.”

Capa’s words rang in your head as you made your way to the medbay. It had been hours since you’d left his lab, but the weight still seemed to resonate. A beauty unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. You reflected on the thought as you reported to Searle, to help with a few things before going to bed.

One of Searle’s duties was handing out supplements, and he often asked for your help with making the deliveries. Icarus II was a very large ship, and your fellow crewmembers were usually spread out in the various quarters and chambers. It was faster to do the job with two people.

Before heading off, you worked on separating various pills into small plastic cups, one for each person. There were quite a few pills that everyone had to take every day. Space travel was hard on the body, and it was difficult if not impossible to get all of the necessary nutrients from the food you had aboard. Even with the gardens and the ability to have fresh vegetables, you all still had to take a lot of supplements. 

You finished doling out the vitamins, and then opened the final bottle of pills. You, Cassie, and Corazon also received one other daily medication: an oral contraceptive. You dropped three little pills into three little cups.

As you replaced the bottle’s lid, your mind drifted again to Capa. The weight of him hovering just behind you, so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wondered if he had any idea that he made your heart flutter just by being next to you. If he did, he certainly didn’t show it. Capa was incredibly hard to read, but for some reason that only made you want him all the more. Your thoughts wandered, imagining things that you knew would never happen. His hand reaching out to you; the feel of his fingers against your waist; his beautiful blue eyes rolling back as he-

You slammed the bottle of pills down on the counter, banishing the fantasies before you could get too wrapped up in them. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. The birth control pills were mandated for female crewmembers, but they were precaution rather than permission. Nine people cooped up together, for years. It was better to prevent any potential problems from happening. It was only logical to mitigate the risk. But that didn’t mean that relationships were encouraged.

And besides, you told yourself, it's not like Capa would be interested anyway.

You picked up the little plastic vial with your pills, and tipped them all into your mouth, swallowing quickly. 

They burned your throat on the way down.

Capa’s eyes looked almost white in the vivid yellow light of the sun. He looked at the dying star, and you looked at him, breathless again at the way he seemed to silently consider everything in front of him. The edges of his thumbs ghosted over his lips as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if to get just a bit closer to that magnificent light.

You were sitting in the observatory, Capa’s empty vial of pills placed precariously on the edge of the bench between you. It had taken you quite a while to find him. He often stayed up late working in his lab, and it was almost rare to see him outside of it. He had been your last delivery, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit with him awhile before heading to your quarters.

You’d been wrong, of course; it hurt more than anything to sit next to him and not have the courage, or the recklessness, to reach out and touch him. As he looked on with amazement at the pulsating sun, you tore your eyes away from him to peer out as well. Dark webs of red and black stretched over the star’s surface. It was strange to think about - how up close it all looked so different from how it had back on Earth. It took up the entire viewing window; so large that it almost felt like it could swallow you at any moment, despite still being millions of miles away.

As he leaned forward, Capa’s dog tags dangled in front of his chest. You wanted nothing more than to grab them. Wrap your fingers around the thin cord holding them, and pull him to you until you both tumbled off the edge of something and into the blazing unknown. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips. Chapped from the heat of the sun.

“It’s getting late,” you whispered, hoping that he would break the spell so that you wouldn’t have to. “You should get to bed, Capa.”

“Hard to when the sun’s always right there, isn’t it?” he asked, cryptically. 

“I guess it is,” you agreed. “But you should still get some rest.”

Capa nodded, and rose from the bench, crushing his empty cup in his hand. He looked back at you, seemed as if he was about to say something, and then left the room without uttering a word. You let out a rough breath, shaking even as you were bathed in the glowing light.

A noise woke you up from your fitful sleep. You’d had a lot of trouble closing your eyes in the first place - probably because of the way your heart was still hammering in your chest, and the way your mind was racing from the events of the day. Still, it was odd to hear any sort of noise at night. Usually the hallways of the ship were deserted, as the crew all slept in their separate chambers. You listened closely, trying to identify the noise through the haze of sleep still clouding your senses.

You heard it again: a muffled banging followed by what sounded like someone struggling. 

Curious, you got out of bed and padded softly across the floor of your small room. The door slid open soundlessly, and as you stepped out into the hall you heard the noise a third time. Now you could clearly tell that it was coming from across the hall. Capa’s room.

You hesitated for a moment, closed fist raised and ready to knock. He probably wouldn’t want you to bother him, but what if something was wrong and you ignored it? You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. You knocked.

Another muffled sound came from inside, unintelligible. 

“Capa?” you whispered, lips pressed as close to the door as you could manage. You didn’t want to wake anyone else up.

There was no answer.

Well, you were already here. You might as well go in and make sure he was okay, just in case. Pressing the small button to open the door, you slipped quietly into his room. The door slid closed behind you.

Capa’s room was entirely dark, unlike the faint, recessed glow of the hallway. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they finally did you could see Capa asleep in his bed, thrashing against some unseen threat. He was having a nightmare.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed. You shouldn’t have barged in; this was his personal space. He was vulnerable, and clearly going through something unpleasant. Knowing Capa, you felt certain that he wouldn’t want any of the others seeing him like this, including you. His brows creased and lips pressed feverishly together in his sleep. You turned to leave, feeling foolish.

“Who’s there?”

The sound of Capa’s voice behind you made you freeze. Just like earlier, in the lab, a shiver inched down your spine at the thought of facing him. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“It’s me,” you responded, turning around.

He was sitting up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist. Shirtless. You felt your face heating up, and were relieved that he couldn’t see your eyes widen in the dark.

“Oh,” said Capa softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um… I heard something and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Against your better judgment, you took a few steps toward him as you spoke. There was a chair next to his bed, and you sat in it, leaning forward on your elbows as you tried to read his expression. The lines of his face betrayed nothing, as usual.

“Is… everything okay?” you asked hesitantly.

Capa swallowed before answering, his eyes flitting up to land on your face. Even in the dark, somehow they seemed to shine. You wanted to look away. You knew you should. But looking into his eyes felt the same as the rushing weightlessness of looking into the sun.

“I’m fine,” he assured you. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”

You nodded, a little surprised he had opened up to you..

“Me too,” you admitted.

Capa seemed to understand what you meant, without you having to say it. He didn’t look away from you as he spoke.

“It is frightening,” he told you. “To be face to face with all of it. The beauty. The scale, unlike anything you’d ever seen back on Earth.” Your mind flashed back to Capa in the observation deck, eyes wide open and leaning forward toward the molten sun. You had thought he was fascinated, but maybe it was something more like the magnetic pull of fear that made him inch closer. 

“But I meant what I said earlier,” he continued. “We are lucky to be here.”

Silence hung between you for a moment. 

“I’m sorry for letting myself in,” you said finally. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t be,” Capa said. “It’s nice to be checked up on.”

You smiled softly, even as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your hands on your knees and stood up from the chair, then leaned down to look at Capa one last time. He was still sitting up in bed, propped on one elbow, facing slightly toward you. A breath caught in your throat as you reached out and placed a hand on his bare shoulder.

“Get some rest, Capa,” you told him, giving a gentle squeeze.

As you moved your hand away, suddenly it was stopped by strong, stable fingers. You looked down to see Capa grabbing your wrist, looking up at you with those damn sensuous eyes. This time, your heart stopped.

“Stay with me?” Capa asked, the barest hint of a prayer in his voice.

“I…”

“Please?”

Time seemed to stand still as you looked at him. A trace of fear in the very corner of his eyes. A few pieces of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, pressing just a bit too tight.

“Okay,” you agreed. The word seemed to carry all of the air in your lungs along with it, out into the vacant night.

You sat on the edge of his bed, awkwardly facing him, and Capa moved backward to make more space for you. Hesitant, you weren’t sure if he wanted you to lie down next to him. It wasn’t exactly a roomy bed, not being intended for more than one person to occupy at a time. You flittered with indecision as Capa settled back into his pillows.

“C’mere.”

Suddenly, an arm was around your waist. And then you were being hooked into Capa’s body, your back pressing snugly against his chest. Capa sighed behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His arm was still draped around your waist, and his lips just barely brushed against you.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky breath, and prayed that Capa couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.

The next morning, you woke up alone. You tried to ignore your disappointment. Capa was an early riser; the type to get a head start on the day by spending all hours in his lab, including the ones before anyone else on the ship was awake. You had always seen him as a hard worker, but after seeing him so unusually agitated last night, you now wondered if there weren’t other reasons he barely seemed to sleep.

You looked around the small room for a few moments, reflecting on what had happened. Part of you still couldn’t believe it. Was it possible that Capa had feelings for you, or were you just a warm body to sleep next to? Did it even matter? If it meant you got to press yourself up against him, you honestly didn’t care whether there was anything more to it.

But then anxiety clouded your mind. What if Capa had left because he was embarrassed? Too shy to confront you about the mistake he’d made in asking you to stay with him? He was, generally, very straightforward - but you also got the sense that he liked to avoid conflict if possible. And he was so damn hard to read. You sat up and put your feet on the floor, crossing your legs and squeezing them together. He was driving you crazy, and the worst part was, you were way too much of a coward to tell him about it.

You stood, made a sound of frustration, and carefully left the room - looking both ways before you stepped out into the hallway. It was still early, but you certainly didn’t need anyone seeing you step out of Capa’s room first thing in the morning. Rumors traveled faster in the cramped halls of a spaceship than lightning on a summer’s night. You slipped back into your own room, and got ready for the day. Maybe, later, you would confront Capa.

You spent the day avoiding Capa. Which wasn’t too hard; he really did spend most of his time in his lab. You focused on helping Corazon in the oxygen garden, trying to distract yourself with the calming, white-noise sound of water. It didn’t do much good for your nerves, unfortunately. 

As the hours wore on, you became more and more agitated, and ultimately, convinced that Capa regretted your night together. It was disappointing, sure, but this was really just a testament to why you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. Even if you did literally only sleep with them.

That night, you begged off of helping Searle with the medications; telling him you had a headache and wanted to get to bed. Really, you just couldn't face the thought of handing Capa his little plastic cup of pills, watching as he observed you with his characteristic disinterest. Searle added a few ibuprofen to your medications and watched as you swallowed them down, before telling you he’d handle it and to get some rest.

Eyes on the floor, you headed to your room.

This was not good. You still had years left on the ship, pressed together with everyone in tight quarters. And Capa was right across the hall from you. There was no possible way to avoid him, and yet, how were you supposed to face him after the embarrassment of being ignored and rejected? Your thoughts were still swirling as you reached the door to your quarters, and pressed the button to go inside.

“Sleeping alone tonight?”

The familiar voice behind you caught you off guard. You hadn’t seen him there.

“I didn’t realize there was another option.”

You turned around to face him, slowly. Capa was standing in the open doorway to his room, hands in his pockets and arms unfairly attractive in his light gray tank top. There was just a hint of mischief in his eyes as they slowly swept over you, and it made you feel both anger and arousal.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Capa said, again seeming to sense what you were feeling without you even telling him. “Trey needed my help with something, and I figured you wouldn’t want me to wake you. Ooor want to walk out together in front of him.”

You felt yourself starting to soften, but still gave your best attempt at a pout as you crossed your arms.

“You could have told me earlier.”

“I know. And I am sorry.” Capa took a step back into his room. “Let me make it up to you?”

It was the wrong decision to follow him. You knew this, but you did it anyway. If only to finish the conversation in the relative privacy of Capa’s room instead of out in the hallway where anyone could hear you. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Please don’t be mad?” 

Capa’s room was dark, again, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust. When you could see him clearly, he was looking down at you, careful expression and head cocked to the side as he awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you agreed.

You were rewarded with a small smile from Capa, and instantly your heart melted. You really couldn’t stay mad at him, even if you wanted to. He was just too damned attractive.

“Let’s go to bed then,” Capa said happily.

He tore off his shirt as he walked to the bed, and for a second you weren’t sure how you were going to stay upright. Capa stood by the bed and waited for you.

“Ladies first.”

“I, um…” you began. “Maybe I should get my pajamas out of my room.”

“Mmm, you don’t really need them.”

Capa took a step toward you and reached over, pulling you close to him. At the same time, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. And before you could protest, he was pulling the fabric up and over your head, leaving you only in shorts and a sports bra.

“That’s better,” he smirked.

Capa’s warm fingers landed on your waist, and you felt yourself swoon again. If it weren’t for his piercing blue eyes holding you in place, you were certain you would have fallen over.

Gently, Capa guided you to bed and let you climb in first, before crawling after you. You were spooning again, this time with you lying closest to the wall. With Capa’s body pressed against you, the result was a warm but not uncomfortable closeness. It felt like you were boxed into your own little world, even as the vastness of space threatened to spill in all around you.

Capa’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in even tighter. You settled back against him, all of your earlier tension melting away. This was nice, whatever it was. You had made up your mind to just enjoy it. It had been a long time since you’d been so close to someone. Capa’s long hair tickled your neck and shoulders, and you exhaled as he-

“Capa!”

His mouth was suddenly on your shoulder, kissing rough enough to leave a bruise. You felt heat rush to your face once again.

“Shhhh,” he teased, lips brushing against you. “Don’t want anyone else to hear us, right?”

“What are you doing?” you whispered frantically.

“Making it up to you,” Capa replied, devilishly. “Like I said I would.”

He put his lips on your neck this time, kissing and scraping your soft skin with his teeth. Despite yourself, you let out a small whimper. Capa’s arms tightened around you.

“Do you forgive me?” Capa asked. You could feel him smiling into your neck.

“I-I don’t know.” A sudden surge of boldness swept through you. “You might need to convince me some more.”

“Hmmm,” Capa growled, directly into your ear. “Wonder how I can do that…"

One of his hands trailed lazily up and down your thigh. His touch was feather-light; moving so slowly that it had your head spinning. Without warning, he grabbed the back of your leg, pads of his fingers pressing into your bare flesh.

“Oh-”

The word left your lips involuntarily, and you felt Capa smirk against you again.

“Think I might have a few ideas…” he said.

“Capa, I-” Before you could get out more than two words, his hand had snaked around to the front of your shorts and was pushing past your waistband. Separated only by the cloth of your panties, his fingers pressed against the wetness that was quickly spreading between your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispered. “I knew you were into me, but I didn’t know you had it this bad.”

You arched your back against his bare chest, too drunk on his fingers to formulate a response. And he hadn’t even pushed past your panties yet; he was just touching you through the fabric as you fell apart for him.

“Good girl,” he rasped, sending another wave of euphoria from your neck to your throbbing cunt. “So eager. Want me to put ‘em inside you?”

You nodded, desperate but not trusting your voice enough to speak. Capa slid his hand past the final layer of fabric that separated you, and then one of his fingers was pressing into you. You squeezed your legs together, trapping his hand, and Capa quickly added another finger.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed. 

His fingers curled, pulling at the strings of tension that were already building in your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to scream for him, but knew you shouldn't. The walls of the ship were far from soundproof, and there were rooms on either side of you.

Capa’s thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it as his fingers continued to move inside of you. You were desperate for something to grab onto, but the only thing in front of you was blank wall. You settled for wrapping your legs around his, entangling yourselves together to give you some semblance of being grounded. You bucked against his hand, begging for more friction.

“Forgive me yet?” Capa teased, his breath ghosting over your ear again.

You shook your head no; not willing to give up on the game just yet. Behind you, Capa chuckled.

“So stubborn,” he muttered. “You really want to make me work for it.”

Capa took his fingers away, and you moaned at the sudden loss of him. Not wasting any more time, he grabbed your shorts and pulled them down. You had a brief moment to wonder what you had gotten yourself into.

You’d felt his growing bulge press into your back as Capa had teased you with his fingers, and now you felt him sliding out of his sweatpants. You were both naked from the waist down, and-

“Fuck, Capa.”

He was brushing the tip over your entrance, not pressing into you yet but just taunting with the idea of it. His hand was firmly at the base of his shaft, ready to guide himself up into you.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Capa.”

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“I need you inside me,” you whispered.

“Fucking beg for it.”

With a frustrated whine, you pushed down and back, forcing his cock into your aching pussy. He was such a tease; you couldn't take it any longer. He was so hard he slid right into you, and the stretch against your walls was like heaven.

Without warning, your orgasm broke over you, crashing into your body with an intensity unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was bliss and beauty and all for the man who was ruining you with every touch. You pressed harder, wanting to feel Capa inside of you as deep as you possibly could. You arched against him, head falling back against his shoulder as you rode out the high.

Capa grabbed at your breasts roughly.

“You know,” he began, “you've never been very good at following directions.”

He pulled out of you suddenly, making you gasp as you clenched around nothing. Quickly, you were flipped onto your back, and then Capa was hovering over you, his eyes burning ice blue.

“Let's try that again,” he said, lining himself up as he leaned forward, pressing his whole body against yours. “I want you. To fucking. Beg.”

“Capa, please,” you breathed.

“Please what?”

“Please put it in me! God, I want you to fill me up. Please, please-”

Capa smirked above you, and your eyes rolled back in your head.

“That's my good girl.”

The sound that left your mouth as he entered you once again would have been mortifying, had you been thinking straight enough to hear it. As it was, Capa seemed to drink up your pathetic mewls and breathy sighs. He pumped in and out of you a few times, watching as you bounced on the bed beneath him.

“Should've gotten you in my bed a long time ago,” Capa panted, still pumping into you relentlessly. “I could've been listening to your pretty noises this whole time.”

His face was right next to yours; the stubble on his jaw scratching you with every thrust. You could feel his lips brushing against your ear as he continued.

“Kinda regret wasting all those hours in the lab with you doing actual work. It's a lot more fun for me to press your buttons.”

Your arms and legs wrapped around him, and your fingers tangled in his hair. Capa kissed you roughly on the lips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, falling out of their methodical rhythm.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, yeah?”

You could do nothing but wrap your legs around him tighter, pinning him in place.

“Fuck, that's right. Gonna take all of it and beg for more. I'll have you in here every fucking night, on your back for me, screaming so that everybody hears how bad you want me to stick it in you.”

Capa’s mouth was going to be the death of you. You clenched around him, silently begging him to cum. It was humiliating, how badly you wanted to be filled by him.

“Oh, fuck!” Capa shouted, entirely too loud.

He held you tight as he emptied into you, giving a few final, weak thrusts. He was breathing heavily, still looming over you as his chest heaved. After a few seconds, he pulled back to look at you.

“So, does that make up for leaving this morning?” he asked, smirk still plastered on his face.

“I… don't know,” you panted. “I think we might need to do it once more… to make sure.”

You looked up at him, mischief playing in your own eyes. Capa wasn't the only one who could tease.

“Oh yeah? Only once more?” he prodded. 

He reached up to push the hair out of his face, slicked down with the sweat of his exertion. But despite that, you could already feel him getting hard again.

“Well, maybe a few times,” you smiled.

You leaned up and caught his lips in a kiss.

#robert capa x reader #robert capa smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #LemmyFics

[greentrickster]

Okay, all you aspiring writers out there following my blog listen up, I’m about to lore drop something y’all may need to hear.

Now, I’m a Writer, capital letter and everything. It’s not my profession, it’s just what I am, simple as that. I’m thirty-five as I type this, and I’ve been writing for twenty-three of those years. Made the shift from someone who just does essays and stories and stuff for school to someone who Writes when I was twelve and decided, “I am going to write a Novel.”

Which I did.

Took me four years to finish, a hundred pages on Microsoft Word, single space, because that’s how long I thought it needed to be if it was going to be a novel.

And, y’all.

It’s bad.

Like, so bad.

Like, “I’m not even going to tell you what it’s about, only that it exists, this is a chapter of my life to be mentioned in passing, you will see no more, the way is shut, it was made by the dead and the dead keep it” levels of bad.

While I was doing this, I also wrote a lot of poetry. Some of that was okay. One of my ADHD powers is having a very good ear for both rhyme and rhythm, which is enough to get you labeled as the class poet in 5th  grade.

You won’t be seeing any of that either.

It’s not on par with the novel, but like... no one needs to be exposed to my teen-years poetry with the knowledge that that’s what it is.

Being a 1988 model, I didn’t discover fanfiction until about 2006. I was eighteen. The first thing I wrote was an absolute crack!fic that people enjoyed at the time, but which none of you will ever see without accessing the dark web or something similar because I’ve removed it from the legitimate internet. In fact, maybe just kind of treat anything of mine that I wrote before 2010 with extreme caution. And, even then, it’s not until 2014 that we get to my works that are still online which I look back at and go, “That? I’m still really proud of.”

It wasn’t until 2015/2016 that I started seeing myself not as someone who wanted to be a writer, but who already was one.

And it wasn’t until I was a decent start into writing my second mega!fic in 2020 that I looked down and realized that I might be writing something really special. Something that I was so proud of that I didn’t care that it was fanfiction, I was willing to talk to random people about it, because I felt so good and confident about what I was writing.

And that’s actually the point I’m trying to make. When people like me say, “Oh yeah, I’ve been writing for twenty-three years,” it’s not a statement of “Lol, I’m better than you, I’ve been at the top of my game forever, you’ll never catch up.” It’s a statement of, “Writing is a cumulative activity. If I’m good now, it’s because I’ve been doing this for a very long time, maybe longer than you’ve been alive. Look at where twenty-three years of work and practice have gotten me. And, much more importantly... think about where you are right now, and where twenty-three years of work, practice, and life experience will get you.”

Because there are a lot of young writers who I would absolutely consider my equals, don’t think I don’t see you there on AO3 and other places! And that’s what I always wonder when I think of how old you are compared to how old I am. Many of you are so much farther along the path of honing your skills than I was at your age... how much farther along will you be when you’re my age? Keep working at it and you’ll only get better, gain more polish, shine brighter. So many of you are already gems, and it’s my very dear hope that I’ll get to watch you become stars.

#writing stuff #writing advice #writers

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Hey, I was wondering if your asks were open? If so, could it be possible to get bucky x reader oneshot or something with a reader who sprained/broke their wrist pretty bad? I sprained my wrist pretty bad and need a little something to cheer me up.

Doctor's Order (1)

Summary: Y/N sprains her wrist; Bucky is the only Avenger to understand.

Rating: Everyone

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 800+

A/N: Not Beta’d. To the person who requested this, get well soon!

Part 1

“It’s not that bad.”

“It happens to everyone.”

Those were the phrases used by the Avengers to console Y/N. It was ironic coming from the enhanced bunch. To an ordinary person, it was that bad and it didn’t happen to everyone. Especially not to the overly experienced enhanced Avengers telling her otherwise.

Who would have thought that bracing a fall could seal someone’s fate for months. Bedridden on a grade 3 wrist sprain wasn’t ideal but it was necessary. Y/N had been restless, eager to use both hands again, to feel normal again. Instead, Y/N’s wrist was bandaged lying limply at her side.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Sighing, Y/N used her free hand to mute the television. Her day had been filled with non-stop visits from the Avengers but none of them understood. They couldn’t understand something they hadn’t experienced. She’d rather be left alone. Attempting to push herself up, a lightning bolt of pain shot through her wrist and Y/N was once again reminded of the helplessness she felt.

No sooner than the yelp escaped Y/N’s lips did the door open.

Clutching her wrist to her chest, Y/N whispered, “Please just leave me alone. You don’t know how it feels-” Her voice caught in her throat when her eyes met concerned cerulean orbs. If anyone knew what she was feeling, it was Bucky Barnes.

Slipping through the crack in the door, Bucky crossed the bedroom with a yellow smiley face floating above him.

“It's from the team,” Bucky announced awkwardly, tying the balloon to the bedpost.

“Oh.”

Before Y/N could thank him, his cool Vibranium palm pressed into the center of her back helping her sit up. His flesh hand shoved a pillow behind her to prop her up.

“Thank you,” Y/N muttered. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have leaned on my good arm.”

Bucky stepped back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I know, but you don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

Y/N gnawed at her bottom lip. Guilt swirled in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t expected Bucky to be the one to walk through the door.  “Listen Bucky, what I said-”

Bucky shrugged. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. The team means well.” Bucky’s eyes suddenly lit up, then he pulled a card from his back pocket. “It’s not much but,” he trailed off with the card extended between his Vibranium fingers. His face scrunched up as his flesh palm slapped the center of his forehead. His fingers made quick work of removing the card from the envelope. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, handing her the card.

Y/N chuckled at his awkwardness. Staring at the front of the card, Y/N smiled at the happy face with the words “Get Well Soon!” printed across it to match the balloon. Written in black ink and all capital letters was the word “You” followed by an arrow pointed to the smiley face. Y/N didn’t need to ask who wrote it. Y/N didn’t understand it, but Bucky always wrote in all caps.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck gauging her reaction as she one handedly opened the card. 

The bottom read, “IN MY OUR HEARTS,” followed by a bunch of the Avengers names. Each name was written in all upper-case letters. Rather than calling Bucky out on signing the Avenger’s names, she thanked him.

“You should elevate your arm, keep the swelling down.”

 “Thank you, Doctor Barnes,” She mocked.

The super-soldier grinned. “I’ll just let you get back to,” he waved a hand toward the television, “whatever that is. Let me know if you need anything.”

Before Bucky could reach the door, Y/N called out, “Wait.” Bucky turned around. “I could use some company,” she said sheepishly, patting the side of her bed.

Bucky blushed. He raced toward the bed like a dog finally allowed on the furniture. Kicking off his boots, he sat cross legged beside her. His hands respectfully on his knees. Y/N unmuted the TV allowing foreign voices to fill the space. The silence between them was comfortable.

Glancing at the smiley face bobbing at the end of the bed then to Bucky’s upturned palm, she extended her injured wrist lacing her fingers with his. Startled, Bucky’s head snapped over his shoulder to look back at her. She was smiling. The corners of his lips twitched upward. “What are you doin’?”

Averting her eyes back to the screen, she shrugged. “Elevating my wrist.”

The cool contrast of his Vibranium arm acted as ice providing her instant relief but she would never admit it.

Bucky smirked, his Vibranium thumb running feather light circles over her bandage. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Next Part

#bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x y/n fluff #bucky x female reader fluff #bucky x you fluff

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings (Pt. 4)

WARNINGS: Nerd talk, Miguel into Work Mode, Relationship Building, Slow Burn, mild fluff, awkward meetings, british slang, mutual help.

Summary: A little peek into Miguel's daily life. Returning favors, rocky starts.

Pt. 5

Hope you like <3

Pairings: Miguel x Fem!Reader

The alarm beeped, and you rose from bed. You'd usually sleep in late and just chill the evening away if you had the free time for it, if not, you'd work ahead to declutter your to-do list. Something that adult life had taught you was to make the most out of your time and keep a balance between resting and work life.

You washed your teeth and showered, adding a mental note to buy more shampoo and conditioner later. Fifteen minutes after you came out, and did a brief skin care routine to finally get ready. You changed into some baby blue high waisted jeans, a white tank top and cardigan along some white espadrilles. You packed in some work tools such as your laptop, an usb docking station and your usb's.

Need you at 9-

Miguel had texted you around 10 pm, and now you were on your way to his home.

---------------

You knocked on the door and held the two cup holders tightly as your working bag hung on your shoulder. The heavy yet familiar steps approached and soon, the door was open, revealing a sleepy looking Miguel, black sweatpants and robe on. A smear of toothpaste foam on his chin. Baggy eyes are a bit more prominent.

"Coffee?" you smiled sympathetically as he let you in. You then offered a napkin

"Clean your chin." He did with a grunt and took a sip of the coffee.

"Didn't know how you liked it, so I just got it plain with two pieces of sugar."

"It's good, thanks." He mumbled and rubbed his face, tiredly.

Now that your hormones were under control, you actually paid attention to your surroundings, the floor was covered in marble-like textured tiles, and the walls were painted in a soft cream. The overall layout displayed before you.

You were standing in a soft rug, to remove all dirt from outside, to your right there was a small hall and a door at the bottom, the broom peeking out made you guess that it was the cleaning supplies storage, if you walked straight, you'd find the dining table and behind it, the kitchen, a small breakfast island separating the spaces.

Oddly enough the chairs underneath looked as if they hadn't been used in a while, they looked almost brand new except for one that had child-like doodles on it, in different colors. If you walked to the right of the dining table, you'd find the living room.

An L shaped couch along a dark wooden coffee table, a tv set with some shelves full of books and few portraits on each side of it. There was a wall dividing the livingroom and the bedrooms, as another one limited the kitchen, creating another hall between.

The windows in the dining room  and his bedroom were made out of thick glass, letting enough natural light to illuminate the spaces. However they were both covered by curtains. Miguel rubbed his eyes as he guided you to your work station. meaning, the dining room. Paper files spreaded all over the glass table.

"You'll work with these. Easy task. Each file is labeled with a letter, the main information is tagged in capital letters, the sub files, or the one related to the main file, are tagged in lowercase letters and a number, it dictates the page." He pointed to the bottom corner of the pages

"But, the lazy ass people I work with just gave me this bundle of papers." He sighed and put on his lenses once more.

"Once you are done organizing, hand them over to me. I need to revise which ones are outdated."

"Wait, so you're working with obsolete information?"

"No, with projects that should have been revised a week ago but were never revised due them being incomplete. Tal Vez una junta y un memo hacen que estos pendejos trabajen bien." He grumbled the last part more to himself than anyone else.

You didn't want to add to his stress, so you picked up the loose paper sheets in the file. He gulped the last remains of caffeine in his cup as you sipped yours.

"Excuse me." You put your work bag on a chair and soon began to follow instructions.  

"If you're stuck in something, tell me. I'll be in the living room. " Your paper cup was taken from your hands and he sipped it, then walked back to the living room with a tiny smirk. You were about to protest, but seeing coffee had gotten him a bit more alive, your lips remained shut.

-----------------------

The only sounds in the room were either you flipping and organizing pages or him typing away on the keyboard. A bird chirping somewhere occasionally, or some faint music from a neighbor.  You had glanced his way a couple of times, only to find him buried in his work, his figure was something impossible to miss. His lower lip jutted as his brow furrowed as he looked at the screen.

You on the other hand had organized one complete file, it was a short one. And from what you could read, it was about recreating a Japanese pink strawberry in some labs to see if it was feasible enough to start commercializing them. Miguel had done the whole research by himself.

"Y'know? I apologize for giving your intelligence little credit."

He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow

"Did you just call me stupid?"

"W-What? No! No. I didn't mean it like that. Like, I knew you were smart, but, this is a whole new level of smart."

He just chuckled and continued his work.

"Seems you're easy to impress."

"No, it means I just need to increase my standards. And I don't even ask for much really."

He stretched and yawned before taking some papers.

"And what are those?"

You stared at him, a bit taken aback that he would actually ask such trivialities.

"Well... I like a man that knows what he wants. Honest, loyal, not a clown but neither a stuck up guy, someone smart that can teach me stuff, in the same way that is willing to learn about new experiences. Sure of himself, someone I can trust and vice versa, good at communication and someone that has gotten over his ex. Or at least do not repeat patterns that they used to do with their ex."

He huffed at the last bit in mirth.

"Good luck with the last one."

"Yeah, That's why I don't head first into it. And the one that kind of met those requirements had to leave to another country" you shrugged and started on the second file.

"But yeah, anyway. I'm impressed that you alone lead these sorts of investigations. Not a good team player?" you smirked and he shook his head.

"Not really. "

"Oh... Well, sometimes it is more about the people you work with than the job itself, I guess."

He stared at you, eyes full of quiet wonder, but the beeping of his phone interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Hold on, gotta pick up"

You nodded and continued your work. He disappeared into his bedroom.

The second file was about rectifying the propension of field corn in getting infected by fungus. And the third one was about creating a substance or reactive that could reveal any anomalies in pregnant animals raised in captivity to preserve the species. The more you read about said files the more your admiration grew. And so the need to make things right.

"Feeling  hungry?" He spoke from the hall, the clock had ticked 12 midday. You both were so engrossed in your respective works that you forgot about time.

"Uh, a little."

You kept organizing files and separating the projects, reading and learning about them on the go.  

"What do you wanna eat?"

"You're ordering or cooking?"

"Ordering."

"Uh, a poke bowl sounds nice."

"A what?" He scrunched his nose and you giggled.

"It's a hawaiian dish made out of raw marinated fish and veggies or rice. Quite nutritious and delicious."

"Sounds nice, except for the raw fish."

"Haha, don't worry, there is a place that sells them with other cooked protein. I highly recommend the salmon glazed one. My treat"

"No. You got me coffee in the morning. We're even."

"Alright. Lemme get you the place´s number."

--------------------------

"So... how do you eat this?" You grabbed the chopsticks and grabbed a piece of glazed salmon.

"Just like that. Give it a try. " you smiled as your hand passed his packed chopsticks. He stared at them for a second and sighed.

"Please?

"If you just wanna laugh at me, say it"

You couldn't help but chuckle and shake your head.

"Pfft. It took me a while to get used to them too. But yeah, this will be funny."

"Sólo porque me lo pides de por favor..."

You always gave him a confused look whenever he spoke in what you could guess whas his mother language. He ripped the small package open and separated the sticks.

"Now, put the lower stick between your thumb and index finger, like tha- , No, no. Yes! Like that! And the other one must be held by the thumb and the middle finger"

There were two main emotions going through his face, frustration and determination. It turned into complete frustration when the small piece of protein fell off his chopsticks.

"It's fine if you don't get it at the first one. Takes a bit of practice." You handed him a plastic fork and smiled, he took it with a light scowl as you kept eating with the chopsticks.

"Besides, once you master them you can eat anything with it. Even snacks so your fingers don't get all... sticky."

"I'm staying with forks and knives, thanks."

You both couldn't help but chuckle.

"What has been the most difficult project to you, so far?"

"The ADA reactive in animals."

"Anomaly Detector Algorithm, right?" The corner of his lips curved slightly upwards at your response.

"Glad to see you're doing your homework, guapa."

"Your work is interesting. By the way, the Corn Field Fungus one is incomplete. Couldn't find the other pages"

He shrugged and finished eating.

"Not my fault. They are not doing their job properly, so of course it was incomplete."

"Sounds... stressing. Your job I mean."

"It is when incompetent people are in charge of things they shouldn't be. But when people know what they are doing, it's different."

"So, basically your job is modifying DNA from things to make things better or create alternative solutions if things don't get better?"

"Simple as that" He nodded, "We gotta check those files before creating the digital copy"

He stood and you quickly finished up your meal, smearing some sauce on your chin, you were about to retrieve the empty plastic bowl to put it in the trash when he cupped your face with a single hand and pulled it gently towards him. He used a napkin to clean the smear and nodded.

"That's better. Get to work" He went back to his work spot and so did you, after cleaning the table. Cheeks flushing.

---------------------

"I'll send you the first transcribed file, so you can check it out as I'm finishing the third one."

"Sure."

He stretched once more to then give the last sip from another mug of coffee. The man lived on caffeine, or he was beyond exhausted and coffee kept him up. You had your work tools out. The noises of your typing mixed with his, almost as fast as he was.

"Want more coffee?" You offered as his eyes drooped.

"Not really. Can't surpass my fifth one."

"Then you should rest your eyes a bit. Take a break of five."

"We're almost done."

"That's precisely why you need five minutes off. Is the light bothering you?"

"A little"

 He rubbed his eyes as he pinched his nose bridge. Gruff voice coming as a rough whisper as you turned the unnecessary lights off, leaving the living room's on only. Then you soaked a clean handkerchief with cold water and returned to his side.

"Here." you offered the cold and wet piece of cloth with a small smile. "Close your eyes and put it on."

He didn't seem convinced that it would do anything, but your willingness to alleviate his distress made him take the cloth and put it on his eyes. He exhaled at the coolness the item provided.

You sat next to him and continued your job, as quietly as you possibly could. Even after the five minutes passed, you didn't move him. He was exhausted. The living room was lit enough to give you a small glimpse of what the shelves had.

Books on Genetics, probably from college, maths, engineering, some spanish titles you quite didn't understand. What threw you off guard was some children's book and stories in one space of the shelf.

Titles like "El Principito", "Cuentos Por Teléfono" "A Bear Called Paddington '' among others with colorful pictures of dinosaurs, soccer balls and some tattered coloring books.

Your eyes squinted as they settled for a portrait, It was a little girl, Black hair as Miguel's combed in a high ponytail as a red headband adorned her front section of the head, keeping the smaller and wild hairs under control. Her smile was cheerful as she held a golden trophy with a soccer player motif on top.

The words "Mi Sol" written in the left corner. The only picture of her in the portraits Miguel jerked awake and your eyes were casted back to the screen.

"Feel better?" He just nodded and exhaled.

"Here's the other two files" You mumbled and passed the usb to him, his large hand covering yours for a second. You waited as his eyes dragged across his screen.

Eyes going from squinting, frowning to widen gently. He gave you a rusty smile.

"Good job."  

"Thanks. Glad to help." your smile was genuine, almost smug. You exhaled, relieved. Clock ticking 7 pm.

"Is there anything else you need help with?"

" All done.Thanks."

"Alright, I shall get going then. It's getting late"

"Then, Stay." You looked at him with a pout.

"As much as I'd like to, you are exhausted, slept on the couch for more than five minutes, you need sleep."

It was his turn to give you a smug smile and you rolled your eyes.

"And stop drinking that much caffeine. You'll get a heart attack."

"A myth, by the way. Five cups is fine"

"If you say so"

Smiling, you put your tools back in your work bag and went for the door, he followed you.

"Thanks for the help"

"Anytime." You nodded.

He just stood on the doorframe, watching you as your nerves rioted inside you, was he expecting a hug? a kiss goodbye? You didn't know.

"Uh, Bye then. Don't forget to sleep" You ended up waving, unsure of giving a more intimate farewell. He seemed amused at your choice.

"Pasa linda noche, muñeca" You heard him mutter before the elevator's door closed.

---------------------

Your elevator's door slid open, revealing the ever long hallway, work bag slinging on your left shoulder as your keys tinkered upon grabbing them. You tried to open the door but to your little surprise the door wouldn't budge. You groaned in annoyance as you pushed, to no avail. All happiness from a good deed done, drained away.

"Fuck." You heaved as you tried once more and failed. Taking your phone out, you recorded a small video for evidence, to send it to the landlord.

No matter how much you pushed the door, or turned the key, the door was stuck. You couldn't help but kick it, but regretted it instantly. Shoes too soft against a sturdy metal door.

"Fuck!" you whined, both in pain and exasperated.

"Seems ya could use some help"

British deep voice from behind you

"Be my guest. This thing wouldn't budge."

"Been having troubles with it too?"

"I already sent the evidence to Mr. Cufton. Hopefully he will fix the damn thing for real this time."

"I'm sure the bloke will be buzzin' when he sees it"

Hobbie stepped closer and took the keys. He turned them around a couple of times and pushed against the door with all his might.

"Goddamn..." Your eyes widened as he opened the door for you, he seemed unfazed, almost used to it.

"Thanks, Hobie."

"No problem." He stepped out of your apartment with his hands stuck in the pockets of his jacket.

"Have a good night." He nodded your way with a lax smile, you closed the door and opened it a couple of times to make sure it would work in the morning.  

You prepared the food for the week, your clothes and a small presentation that was sent to you to be corrected last minute.

And soon went to sleep.

-----------------

You were having a bad day as it is, the door was jammed again and made you get one hour late since Mr. Cufton barely replied your way, and had another neighbor help you out. Traffic was insane, and when you got to your office, ready to start your day, the usb storage box wasn't in your tote bag.

Panic surged through you as your hands frantically searched for the small plastic box. You not only had a couple of months worth of work in them, but also some other coworker projects that would be presented in a couple of days.

It didn't help that the newest client was bitching about the little flow of movement her new beauty products' line was receiving. The responsibility falls directly on your both superiors and you.

Then, your superiors reprimanding you for not having the usb on hand to show the manager the newest projects to be soon developed in the firm and Mr. Cufton announced the door wouldn't be replaced until next week. As soon as 5 pm ticked in, you bolted out the place.

You couldn't help but cry out of frustration, however a ding on your phone prevented you from weeping in the parking lot.

I believe this is yours?-

He had sent the image of the usb box you had looked up. In all your haste, you had barely thought of it staying behind at Miguel's.

Forgot to mention this in the morning-.

Of course he would. He was super busy. You couldn't help but actually cry, relieved that at least one of your problems, one of the biggest problems was solved.

-You literally just saved my ass from being fired... Thank you so much. I'll pick it up at your place. Is that ok?

Give me your location, I'm not home yet.-

                                Stuck in traffic.-

-Neither do I, but I'll be there in 15 minutes.

You shared your home location, and drove home. Traffic only held you back for five minutes. You parked the car in the usual numbered spot assigned with your apartment number. Then took the elevator, work tote bag in hand, face still red from your previous crying, and finally you managed to get home and let Miguel know you were already there and your apartment number.

You knew you had to open the door to at least put your things away, and make yourself look less beaten up by life. Sadly there was no Hobie or the other friendly neighbor to help you out. The only times you saw Hobie was around seven or eight pm, and there was no sign of the other guy. You prepared mentally to struggle against an inanimate object.

First time was worthless, the second time was even worse. You had only slammed your body against it, earning another pain in your tender shoulder's muscles. Just when you were going to try a third time, Miguel called you from the hallway. You were on the verge of tears again, your face flushed like a tomato.

"You ok?"

You shook your head as you tried your best to keep the tears inside.

"Shitty day but, you saved my ass, again."

"What's wrong with the door?"

"It's stuck and the landlord will replace it until next week. Got an hour late at job because I got trapped inside" your voice was the first thing in breaking.

Miguel stared at you for a moment and then put his things down on the floor with a sigh. He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed your keys that felt tiny on his large hands. He could feel the weight of the door against the doorframe, knowing that if he was too rough, the whole door would cave in and make the problem worse.

He just stared at it's structure for some minutes, evaluating what could be wrong with it.

The elevator dinged open, revealing Hobie with a bag of groceries. He entered his apartment to drop the bags and then came your way. Eyeing the situation from afar.

"You gotta push against it, mate" He wore ripped jeans, his red boots, a sleeveless and irregular neck shaped shirt and studded bracelets.

Miguel acknowledged him with a glance before focusing on the door again.

"That's probably what messed up the hinges last night."

Hobie's eyebrow quirked as he deadpanned.

"If I push the door open, the whole thing will cave in and it'll make everything worse" Miguel spoke as he gently took the doorknob and pulled back, the door creaked but it didn't cave in, but it fell back on the floor with a metallic thud.

Miguel looked at the back of the door and grunted.

"That's the problem. Hinges are rusted, and the screws are loose."

"Hobie? Could I borrow your tools for a second?"

"Haven't unpacked them yet, birdie"

If there was a staring contest, you were sure it was a tie. Miguel's ever present frown deepened slightly as Hobie gave him a complete poker face. Tension in the air, you saw your other friendly neighbor coming through the elevator with his dog.

"It's okay, I'll ask him." You smiled nervously at him and approached your neighbor to ask him for some tools.

Hobie huffed with a slight smirk at Miguel

"Good luck with that dead naff door, mate. Imma leg out."

He turned around and left, giving a quiet smile your way.

"Charming" he mumbled once he was out of hearing

"Told you to be nice. He helped me out last night." you gave the screwdrivers to him, "Need any help?"

"I'm good. Yo me encargo"

"Yeah, Y'know I might start learning spanish cause... I don't understand what you're saying sometimes"

He smiled mischievously as he effortlessly held the door and began screwing it back to its place.

"What's the fun in that then?"

"I mean, for all I know you could be making fun of me or worse" you spoke as you picked up his belongings and yours to take them inside.

" Or worse? Hm... probably"

"You're mean. But I'm grateful you're helping me out. Again."

"At this point I'll start keeping tabs."

"Ouch."

---------------

Miguel fixed your door, but explained to you it was a temporary solution, lucky you'd know how to fix it in case another incident happened.

"Here" you gave him a glass of water as he looked around, taking in your surroundings. He then gave you the storage box.

"What happened today?" he drank from the glass

"Oh... uh, I told you shitty day. Got trapped here, got an hour late at work, the client was pissed she wasn't getting the numbers right of her products, blamed my boss and me," you sighed, annoyed

"Then the manager scolded me for not having the data on hand, cause it's in one of these little things, then the landlord told me my door is getting replaced next week, traffic and the door. But now, at least three of those issues are solved."

You slumped on the couch. exhausted

"Sorry for always dragging you to help me around"

"You apologize too much. "

You were about to open your mouth to apologize but remained shut. His frown decreased a bit and his face relaxed.

"Gotta go"

"Sure, Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it."

"De nada, hermosa"

"Might call you one day to help me out with some furniture that needs to be assembled"

He deadpanned and you giggled.

"Of course I am joking. I know you are really busy."

He picked up his things and you went to the door with him.

"Might do some time for that"

"Really? I might prepare something to eat then. Or maybe you could show me some cooking skills"

"I'll think about it"

You nodded with a bashful smile.

"Thanks, Miguel."

"See you"

You closed the door, it didn't lock you up this time.

---------------------

Tal Vez una junta y un memo hacen que estos pendejos trabajen bien.- Maybe a meeting and a memo will make these fuckers to work properly

Sólo porque me lo pides de por favor.. - Only cause you're asking nicely

El Principito - The Little Prince

"Cuentos Por Teléfono- Telephone Tales (Highly recommended btw <3 By Gianni Rodari)

Mi Sol - My Sun

Pasa linda noche, muñeca- Have a nice night, doll

Yo me encargo - I've got this

De nada, hermosa - You're welcome, beautiful

Taglist ❤️

@vyxvi

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