#Hi-View AI Engine

[themorningnewsinformer]

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[dollerinna]

WOULD YOU LIKE AN ALMOND JOY .ᐣ

( black noir x gn!crime analyst reader )

summary: after a long day of work, you try to unwind by watching your comfort show, but your solitude is interrupted by yet another visit from noir, who seems to be finding more and more excuses to spend time with you… (includes a C.AI bot as part 2 below!)

wordcount: 2k

tags: brief mention of NSFW pop-up ads, nerdy n’ socially awkward reader, noir’s disdain for almond joys but he makes up for it at the end <3

It had been a long day at the crime analytics office in Vought. As the sun began to set, exhaustion crept over you after reviewing incident report after report. Your eyes strained from the blue glare of your computer screen. You knew you had promised your boss you would organize the ever-growing database, but the tiny voice of procrastination was pleading for rest before your overworked brain turned into a pile of mush.

Rather than more paperwork—you, being the slacker of all slackers in this department, decided a well-deserved break was in order. And what better way to recharge than turning off the noggin and filling it with good ol’ fashioned mindless entertainment?

With a few tired clicks of your mouse, you booted up your go-to streaming site, which was none other than 123movies. Scrolling through the options, your cursor hovered over the play button of your favorite trashy drama. The kind of cheesy, perfectly predictable melodrama spun from the worst of amateur YA plots. It was practically comfort food for your fatigued mind, just what you needed to loosen up after the mental marathon that was this long day.

As the opening credits began to roll, your computer began to whir and hiss like an overtaxed engine, emitting gusts of unusually hot air from the vents. Suddenly, its screen slowed to a sluggish crawl, cluttered with a barrage of not-so-savory pop-up ads. Barely a minute in, the pixels already scrambled to form images better to left unseen—half naked women in risqué yet tacky mermaid-like attire, claiming they were ‘just around the corner and ready for a good aquatic fuck.’

First of all, what the absolute living hell is an “aquatic fuck”??

Did you even want to know? And most importantly, what happened to the ad blocker you installed just the other day? Judging by the contents, you had a sneaking suspicion that slimy, sea-dwelling degenerate, The Deep, had tampered with your computer… yet again.

“For the love of-… what’s with all these pop-up ads?” you muttered under your breath as excessively explicit ads crowded out the episode. Your eyes darted furtively around the room to check for wandering glances, hoping against hope that none of your coworkers had noticed the unwanted filth invading your screen. Heart pounding, you squeezed your chair closer to your monitor into a makeshift barricade, shielding the display as best you could while hastily clicking away at the intrusive ads.

As you hurriedly closed the remaining windows, an ominous shadow fell across the screen. Dreading what—or who—might be behind you, you slowly swiveled your chair around to find Black Noir's stoic stare boring into your own.

You stifled a yelp as you instinctively clutched the armrests, catching yourself on the edge of your seat before an ungainly spill to the floor. Noir had a way of materializing without warning, and it never failed to unnerve.

“N-Noir!” you managed, inwardly cringing as your voice broke on his name. “Fancy seeing you in these parts. I was just taking a quick break and y’know- stretching ‘em brain cells.” You tried for a lighthearted chuckle, but it emerged as more of a strained squeak that faded into an anxious hum.

With a jerky flurry of clicks and the browser minimized from view, whatever dignity you still retained disappearing along with it. All that did remain was you praying to the heavens above that he hadn't noticed its questionable contents (even if he most definitely had and simply chose not to comment)

When Noir offered no response, you of course charmingly barreled ahead in your frazzled daze. “But anyways, s-sorry about that… how uh, can I help you today?” your words tumbled out in a breathless rush, punctuated by a shrill laugh you hoped disguised the mortification simmering beneath.

Noir cocked his head, observing you with that same silent intensity. You fidgeted, hands twisting in knotted discomfort, the heat in your ears now engulfing your entire face. Was it the invasive pop-ups that had you squirming in your seat? Or the fact he could snuff out your existence faster than you can say “workers’ comp”?

Either way, beneath the weight of his stare, you already felt as if you were some peculiar, freakish creature pinned for study, rather than some bumbling employee just trying to unwind and watch their comfort show.

And to him, you indeed were a fascinating, bizarre little human.

Mercifully, Noir chose to extend a folder toward you, putting an end to your somewhat pathetic withering. You accepted it with a wordless nod, nearly sagging in your chair as tension drained from your shoulders.

Whirling towards the familiar clutter of your desk once more, you pretended absorption in the folder’s material, hoping this signaled Noir’s leave. After all, has anyone seen the state of you? It certainly wasn’t a flattering one. Yet from the corner of your eye, you detected no movement, no receding footsteps—his shadowy form remained statuesquely in place.

Believe it or not, this has been becoming a thing, a growing habit of late—and a suspicious one at that. Lately his breaks had grown longer, minutes lengthening to quarters of an hour, all spent hovering at your desk as you worked. However, his focus was solely on watching and observing you. He never exhibited a hint of thought or motive for his reason there, only leaving you with questions that seemed to multiply by each and every visit.

Noir, on the other hand, was somehow utterly convinced that you and him were two peas in a tightly-knit pod. He swore you two were best of buds for life—even if "life" so far had only amounted to the past two weeks' worth of half-hour stretches where he silently observed your work from the corner.

Ironically, you didn’t have the slightest inkling of how he really felt. Instead, you always assumed that he, like most supes, regarded you as little more than a puny mortal—a fragile, near-useless sack of flesh and bones whose skull he was one misstep away from caving in with bare hands.

But nope, Noir was simply here to bless you, the nerdy but cute crime analyst, with his presence—his rather… unsettling presence.

The familiar hush settled as you reluctantly returned focus to the task at hand. Hocus-pocus-focus, you chanted mentally, peeling away the last shreds of stray thoughts to tap into the zone of productivity. Unfurling the dossier Noir provided, you began sifting through documents for insight on his purpose in approaching you. Meanwhile, a flick of movement in the edge of your vision revealed Noir's attention veer off course, the almond joy perched beside your keyboard capturing his notice.

You tensed, hocus-pocus-focus breaking, all too aware of past disappearances of snacks in these briefings. Sure enough, his hand drifted noiselessly toward the candy bar, no doubt spurred by ingrained impulse to dispose of it per his usual custom. But you'd grown wise to his methods by now.

Not again, you sighed inwardly, snatching the almond joy and cradling it protectively as if it were your dear, beloved child.

Noir made no move to withdraw, palm outstretched expectantly. You frowned, struggling to keep frustration at bay. "Please, come on- not this time!.. It's my last one for the day." Brows pinching, your tone threatened to rise before steadying with a slow and calm inhale. No use losing composure over candy, no matter the principle. So all you could do was peer beseechingly at Noir in silent appeal, legs jittering restlessly under your desk in building apprehension.

Unfortunately, you found no signs of leniency in his obscured face—only his hand beckoning relentlessly for the almond joy. You plea was once again met with stony resolve, as if he was internally distressed by the mere presence of it. What was he? Deathly allergic to almond joys or something?

With a resigned breath, you delivered the almond joy towards Noir's waiting glove, unable to hide the disappointment dimming your features. Your lips curled into a slight pout, gaze sinking heavy into your lap at being parted from the treat. Though Noir was never one for words, it really didn’t take a rocket scientist to see you felt bullied into submission by his demands. At the end of the day, what power did a measly analyst like yourself hold against one of the Seven? As your fingers uncurled, releasing the candy into Noir's grasp, you couldn't help but feel a bit put upon, even if that wasn’t his intention at all.

Noir was well aware of the upset feelings his request had caused, so in an attempt to remedy the situation, his arm was sent in a backwards reach for the notepad he often used to communicate. However, he found himself at a loss as words eluded him, his thoughts swirling in frustrating circles of “What should I even say?”—muddled and incoherent. For a moment he stared at you, mask betraying no emotion as he grappled to find the right words, despite the prick of guilt nibbling at his conscience. Then, lacking any better option, he simply tossed the offending candy into the trash, perhaps with more force than intended.

Clearly, socializing was not Noir’s strong suit.

With no further acknowledgment, Noir spun on his heel and marched away. You watched his retreating, rigid form with discomfort clenching your insides, eyes falling onto the lonely candy discarded in the trash, its colorful wrapper mocking your current disheartened state.

Wearily, you turned away from the almond joy, redirecting your attention toward the computer as a means to divert your now soured mood. Maximizing the browser, you hoped that your planned show may have had time to load during the interaction. But upon inspecting the screen, you found the video remained stubbornly stalled, stuck on buffering dots and refusing to roll despite the minutes passed.

Just. Peachy.

One (super)human encounter had sucked the very life source out of your dog-tired body, and now this. It was really shaping up to be one of those days.

Thoroughly worn out, you gently laid your head down onto the desk, pillowing it against the crook of your folded arms as eyelids slid shut. All you craved was to simply sleep away the remaining time until you could finally escape this wretched shift and retreat to the sanctuary of your home sweet home.

─────────────────

As your shift wound down to its end, you were finally stirring from your slumber. Rubbing the sleep from your bleary eyes, your blurred vision sharpened to show your colleagues had long since departed while you were snoozing away.

Rising and squaring your shoulders, you began to gather your belongings in preparation to leave as well. Once you had collected everything and lifted to your feet, something in the far corner of your desk caught your eye. Approaching for a closer look in the dim lighting, the fuzzy outline gradually came into focus—a cluttered collection of Hershey's Kisses, their jumbled placement grouped to form the shape of a heart.

You blinked in bewilderment, rubbing your eyes once more to ensure you weren't imagining things. Stepping closer, you spotted a sticky note nestled within the heart of chocolates, scrawled upon in a crude, blocky hand. At first, you assumed it was some silly prank from one of your coworkers, but you knew you recognized the handwriting anywhere—it was Noir's.

Gingerly, you plucked the sticky note from the desk, lifting it to your line of sight to read the message. “Kisses taste better than almond joys…Sorry.” you read softly, your voice trailing off as confusion crept in.

Designed as a very apparent flirty gesture, the intent behind the note and chocolates still managed to whoosh straight over your head. As always seemed the case, even the most painfully obvious social cues could so easily evade your understanding—this proving no exception.

You slipped the sticky note into your pocket, then selected a foil-wrapped Kiss from the pile. Gently rolling the chocolate between your fingers, you unwrapped it and popped one into your mouth. You took time to savor its light cream filling beneath a smooth outer shell, face crinkling in thought and head tilting as you considered your verdict. “Eh… I’d beg to differ.” you mused with a shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you took your leave from the office.

-------☆-------

Pssst- likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

-------☆-------

a C.AI bot as your very own part 2 where you thank Noir the following day:

a/n: saw somewhere that kisses don’t contain nuts but then I also saw someone else say they actually do??? So let’s just pretend the kisses Noir chose are completely nut-free for the sake of the plot 😭

also, the reader is very much based off Anika if it wasn’t obvious enough haha! She’s so y/n coded 😤💗

♡ divider credits: @/ianrkives

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI can’t do your job

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in SAN DIEGO at MYSTERIOUS GALAXY on Mar 24, and in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL on Apr 2. More tour dates here.

AI can't do your job, but an AI salesman (Elon Musk) can convince your boss (the USA) to fire you and replace you (a federal worker) with a chatbot that can't do your job:

https://www.pcmag.com/news/amid-job-cuts-doge-accelerates-rollout-of-ai-tool-to-automate-government

If you pay attention to the hype, you'd think that all the action on "AI" (an incoherent grab-bag of only marginally related technologies) was in generating text and images. Man, is that ever wrong. The AI hype machine could put every commercial illustrator alive on the breadline and the savings wouldn't pay the kombucha budget for the million-dollar-a-year techies who oversaw Dall-E's training run. The commercial market for automated email summaries is likewise infinitesimal.

The fact that CEOs overestimate the size of this market is easy to understand, since "CEO" is the most laptop job of all laptop jobs. Having a chatbot summarize the boss's email is the 2025 equivalent of the 2000s gag about the boss whose secretary printed out the boss's email and put it in his in-tray so he could go over it with a red pen and then dictate his reply.

The smart AI money is long on "decision support," whereby a statistical inference engine suggests to a human being what decision they should make. There's bots that are supposed to diagnose tumors, bots that are supposed to make neutral bail and parole decisions, bots that are supposed to evaluate student essays, resumes and loan applications.

The narrative around these bots is that they are there to help humans. In this story, the hospital buys a radiology bot that offers a second opinion to the human radiologist. If they disagree, the human radiologist takes another look. In this tale, AI is a way for hospitals to make fewer mistakes by spending more money. An AI assisted radiologist is less productive (because they re-run some x-rays to resolve disagreements with the bot) but more accurate.

In automation theory jargon, this radiologist is a "centaur" – a human head grafted onto the tireless, ever-vigilant body of a robot

Of course, no one who invests in an AI company expects this to happen. Instead, they want reverse-centaurs: a human who acts as an assistant to a robot. The real pitch to hospital is, "Fire all but one of your radiologists and then put that poor bastard to work reviewing the judgments our robot makes at machine scale."

No one seriously thinks that the reverse-centaur radiologist will be able to maintain perfect vigilance over long shifts of supervising automated process that rarely go wrong, but when they do, the error must be caught:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

The role of this "human in the loop" isn't to prevent errors. That human's is there to be blamed for errors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/30/a-neck-in-a-noose/#is-also-a-human-in-the-loop

The human is there to be a "moral crumple zone":

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

The human is there to be an "accountability sink":

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

But they're not there to be radiologists.

This is bad enough when we're talking about radiology, but it's even worse in government contexts, where the bots are deciding who gets Medicare, who gets food stamps, who gets VA benefits, who gets a visa, who gets indicted, who gets bail, and who gets parole.

That's because statistical inference is intrinsically conservative: an AI predicts the future by looking at its data about the past, and when that prediction is also an automated decision, fed to a Chaplinesque reverse-centaur trying to keep pace with a torrent of machine judgments, the prediction becomes a directive, and thus a self-fulfilling prophecy:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

AIs want the future to be like the past, and AIs make the future like the past. If the training data is full of human bias, then the predictions will also be full of human bias, and then the outcomes will be full of human bias, and when those outcomes are copraphagically fed back into the training data, you get new, highly concentrated human/machine bias:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/14/inhuman-centipede/#enshittibottification

By firing skilled human workers and replacing them with spicy autocomplete, Musk is assuming his final form as both the kind of boss who can be conned into replacing you with a defective chatbot and as the fast-talking sales rep who cons your boss. Musk is transforming key government functions into high-speed error-generating machines whose human minders are only the payroll to take the fall for the coming tsunami of robot fuckups.

This is the equivalent to filling the American government's walls with asbestos, turning agencies into hazmat zones that we can't touch without causing thousands to sicken and die:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/19/failure-cascades/#dirty-data

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/18/asbestos-in-the-walls/#government-by-spicy-autocomplete

Image: Krd (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:DASA_01.jpg

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

--

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

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

[shadesofmauve]

Alliance Normandy SR2 redesign: Deck 3

The crew deck sits in the middle of the ship, where the hull is widest. This is where design for a larger crew really comes into play.

Sleeping and other bodily functions

The main bathrooms are roughly the same shape and location as in-game, but people walking by no longer have a great view of the showers every time the doors open.

Enlisted racks

24 enlisted racks line the corridor to the main battery, housing the bulk of the rank-and-file. Bunks are stacked two high, with uniform lockers to one side and coffin-lockers under the mattress.Footholds in between sets of bunks let you can reach the top without stepping on the one below.

Junior officers' quarters

I assume a spaceship needs more technical expertise and less grunt work, so the crew is weighted towards officers and highly-trained technical specialists. These specialists fill non-command roles and bunk with the junior officers. Joker (flight lieutenant) and Traynor (comms specialist) berth here. So does Kaidan, because at the point he came aboard the guest stateroom was occupied by Khalisah Al-Jilani, and bunking with marines would muddy command waters because he seriously outranks Vega.

Bunks are two-high with coffin lockers just like the enlisted racks, but officers rate four inches more elbow room and two inches more to stretch out their toesies. They also get a bit more privacy, a little more storage, and access to the lounge overlooking the eezo core*.

*I gave them a lounge because in ME3 you occasionally find officers chatting at a table in the middle of the bunk room, and if anyone did that while I was trying to sleep three feet away I'd commit murder.

Senior officers' country

Miranda's old quarters, which Liara claims in ME3, are large enough to house the entire senior staff in staterooms, with one extra for guests and a shared head. Each room has one permanent bunk (two inches wider and four longer than junior officers; swank) and one fold-out upper-bunk in case of extra passengers.

In Sunset and Evening Star the first thing Shepard does on the Citadel is sign on a first officer**, old navy hand Lieutenant Commander Nguyen. The first thing Nguyen does is fill the missing weapons and ops roles (she heads the navigation department herself, since it's a small ship).

With Shepard in the admiral's quarters on deck 1, First Officer Nguyen gets what would have been the captain's cabin on the crew deck (except while Primarch Victus and his aide were aboard; when she gave up her quarters to the turians). Mukerjee, the head of ops, gets the slightly-larger-than-standard cabin intended for the XO.

Garrus has the 'extra' stateroom, as their liaison with the turians. He keeps the desk folded for space and sleeps crouched in one corner; the bunk is useless to him.

**Shepard delegated something! It's a Mass Effect miracle!

Vital ship functions

Main battery

The main battery looks exactly the same, except Garrus isn't sleeping in the corner or constantly fiddling with the guns. In fact, he's never fiddling with the guns. He and Silva were spending hours re-calibrating the thanix cannon to their own preferences whenever the other person's back was turned, and Nguyen stepped in and banned Garrus from the armory before it moved from passive aggression to murderous-interspecies-diplomatic-catastrophe.

AI core

Access to the AI core is from the battery corridor, not through the medical bay.

Medical bay

The medbay is divided into a front office, the main med bay, and an area for major surgery or isolation. There's also a small private cabin for the two members of the medic corps who assist Chakwas.

Life support

The life support corridor has another four enlisted racks, bringing the total enlisted berths on the crew deck to thirty. Life support itself is basically unchanged, except for some added Important Keep People Alive machines. Like engineering, life support systems are also spread throughout the ship.

Food & leisure

Mess & galley

The mess seats 32. It's also all-watch meetings are held, and occasionally movie screenings. Crew can grab shelf-stable snacks, cereal, or recent leftovers from self-serve areas outside the galley, or collect the meal currently on offer at the counter.

The galley feeds three shifts three times a day each, and one watch's breakfast comes immediately before the previous watch's dinner. About a week out, stores of fresh produce are gone, so a lot of food is frozen, freeze dried, or reconstituted. There's always something to eat; one of the two big pots is almost always full of soup, if not both Bread is made from scratch (flour keeps indefinitely, bread doesn't), and there's a flat-top as well as a six-burner range. The food storage in the galley and nearby walk-in are only what the cooks expect to need for the next two days or so; food actually makes up most of the Normandy's cargo, stored on deck 4.

Observation lounges

The observation lounges, important for crew morale and sanity on longer missions, are differentiated by volume. Starboard is generally used for quieter conversation, reading, solo gaming, or study. The Port lounge is for parties and games. (There is no free wet bar, this is a military ship).

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

[gremlin-girly]

From the Ashes

Whisk & Whimsy Part 4

Dividers by: @/bernardsbendystraws | Banner by me, made in canva, images from canva and Pinterest (credit to the original creators)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: violence, injury, blood, fluff, miscommunication

Summary: You kindly offer to help pick up the pieces. Even if that means letting Bucky stay with you for a while.

Word count: 7k

A/N: Very sorry who saw this prematurely post last Sunday - but I hope you enjoyed reading through the notes 😭💀

I want to give this series the attention it deserves so I'm taking a two week break to get my brain back on track and then we will be back to weekly postings. Thank you for all the love on this series so far! X

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Collection

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The reactions of the bikers were instantaneous.

They each sprinted to their bikes and hurriedly packed away things. Bucky's face was like a storm as he barked out orders; Sam to go straight to the hospital and give updates on Hoskins and Joaquin, Alexei and Natasha to find Piertro, Wanda and Yelena and for Punisher to go with Clint to hunt down Walker and find whoever did this. Steve was to go straight to the club and meet Bucky there.

"What about me?" You asked teetering behind Bucky, gasping as he half threw you onto the back of his bike without warning.

"It's not safe for you, Cupcake. 'M taking you home." Bucky left no room for argument as the engine roared to life and he peeled away from the off-road with White Wolves in tow. "Now, hang on!"

You curl into Bucky, the wind howling in your ears and whipping your hair wildly. You clutch at him tightly, your mind flitting to young Joaquin's smiling face, his polite yet playful demeanour towards yourself and his superiors, and dread settles in your stomach. You didn't know Hoskins well, but liked him well enough; he was friendly and helped ease Walker's apprehension of...well, everyone.

You hoped, wished, prayed that they would make it through.

When Briarridge came into view, all of the bikers wordlessly split off to complete their tasks. Bucky kept speed, barrelling through the quiet roads until he pulled up outside Whisk & Whimsy. You hadn't even realised you'd stopped, eyes squeezed shut. The smell of smoke was strong, settling like a fog over the rooftops.

"Come on doll, hop off." Bucky says stoically.

"Take me with you." You say firmly, not removing your hands from his waist. The fire and stabbings had nothing to do with your beef with Bucky, and you wanted to help the friendly bikers that had been nothing but nice to you. "Let me help."

Bucky's chest heaves, you can feel the push of his ribs against your hands, his frantic heartbeat. "Fuck doll - I can't be wastin' time like-"

"Then DRIVE!" You growl at him and he starts the ignition again with a sigh, turning back on himself and heading in the direction of the club.

What should take thirty minutes takes ten with Bucky's driving and when the bike skids to halt beside Steve, Steve gives you a curious glance.

"Hello again," He says before looking at Bucky with the unvoiced question; you brought her with you?

Bucky shrugs. "She wouldn't get off the damn bike."

The three of you look to the remnants of the club and you can see Bucky's shoulders visibly slump in defeat. The club is still being doused with water from the fire engines but there are no more flames, only smoke and ash. The building is black, everything inside from what you can see is smudged in hues of charcoal and graphite and your heart aches for Bucky and the White Wolves.

The neon sign exploded from the heat, and the glass has melted into the entry way. No more dubiously stained carpet. No more bar. No more more club. No more home.

"Fuck." Bucky sighs, dropping his hands to his thighs. "This ain't good."

"You're telling me, pal." Steve looks forlorn as he looks at the building, or what's left of it. "This was premeditated."

You're still clinging to Bucky and rise up slightly, feeling a little dazed. "I'm so sorry."

"What are we gonna do Buck?" Steve asks, folding his arms firmly. You're not even offended that the two men ignore your apology.

"We're gonna find who did this and make 'em pay." Bucky growls. "Insurance'll cover most of the damage and thankfully nothing important was kept in the club but-"

Bucky takes a deep, long breath and you can feel the anger - the rage - brimming underneath the surface of his skin.

"That's not the point. Whoever this was attacked our own." Bucky kicks a stone near his boot. "They waited until we were out of town. This was personal."

"You can stay at mine tonight. I'll take the sofa." Steve offers dutifully to Bucky who contemplates his offer before you chime in.

"Stay with me."

Both men's heads whip towards you and you feel a little out of your depth for a moment before shaking it off; the image of Bucky's uncomfortable cot in his office plaguing ypur mind.

"You're gonna need all the rest you can get." You say, fixing Bucky with what you hope is a stern but sympathetic look. "I have an air mattress and a spare room."

Bucky's rage dissipates for a moment to blink at you before looking over at Steve, who's smiling with surprise.

"Careful there, Cupcake." Bucky teases softly. "People might actually think you like me. Now, where's that useless sheriff?"

An hour later Bucky's slumped into your couch, tattooed hand over his face. Your heart aches for him, losing so much in such a short space of time was incomprehensible. Your belongings, your home, a friend. Maybe even two if Joaquin didn't pull through.

The loss of the club you could chalk up to karma for threatening your business and others but the rest? That was plain unfair. Kindness was a virtue you had yet to reign in and your brain, bless her heart, tried to rationalise Bucky being on your couch. You hated him, didn't you?

So why did you offer him your couch when he could've stayed at Steve's?

You try not to grumble to yourself as you bring two mugs over to the small couch. You curse yourself for cheaping out now that your legs are pressed against Bucky's and you can't sit at least an arm's length away from him.

"Hey," You say softly, holding out a mug of tea. "Here."

Bucky peeks out from under his hand and blinks tiredly at you before taking the mug from your hands, ringed fingers brushing yours. Tingles tan up the expanse of your arm as you pulled it back towards you, trying to suppress a shiver.

"Thanks, doll." He says gruffly, looking into the ripples on the tea surface.

The only sound you can hear in your heart in your ears, thudding hard and fast. You should say something... but what? What do you say to a man who's lost everything in less than a day?

"I'm..." you start speaking before you can stop it and you feel Bucky's eyes on you. You roll your shoulders anxiously, fighting to try and find the words, before settling lamely on a "sorry."

"For what?"

You expected a grunt and a nod not a conversation. You shrug helplessly.

"Uh, well, everything - I guess?" You stammer out, dropping your gaze to the mug in your hand. Wisps of steam rolled over the surface and you took a deep breath, prolonging the sigh for as long as you could.

It still didn't help.

"I really had fun today until... you know, it wasn't." You clear your throat. God, why was this so hard? Why is your heart beating so fast? Is it because you're trying to comfort the man you're supposed to hate?

"I can't... I can't imagine being in your shoes. With everything that's happened today and - yeah - I'm sorry." You rush the end out quickly and, noticing Bucky hasn't spoken for a while, look over at him with a weary but sympathetic smile.

Bucky's only looking at you. He nods and says nothing for a few moments, just looking. You want to look away but something stops you. Your chest is tight with anxiety, you're only comfort is the warmth of the mug permeating your palms as Bucky looks - no, gazes - at you like he's a million miles away. His blue eyes are locked onto yours, and the more you focus, the more you see.

His eyes aren't just blue; they're periwinkle with with flecks of a misted green close to the iris. Where you'd thought, or better yet assumed, they were cold and cruel you now see that they're soft and worrisome. At the corners of his eyes where thick, dark unkempt eyebrow taper, you can see the faint crinkles of smile lines. It wasn't a surprise to you that he was attractive, you noticed that the first day you'd met him. But in the midst of a tragedy and him not even a foot away from your face, on your sofa no less, you've only just made the realisation that perhaps you've made one too many assumptions about the biker before you and had ignored the fact that he wasn't just attractive; he was soul-destroyingly beautiful.

"I could... put on a movie? You ask after clearing your throat, hoping the silence would be a little less awkward and help you to ignore your new-found revelation.

"Yeah, sure." Bucky murmurs, tearing his gaze away from you to look at an interesting piece of wall and sip his tea.

You turn on the TV and boot up Netflix, flicking to the movie section and eyeing up the genres.

"Guess you'd want an action movie huh?" You joke, hoping to get a rise from him to ease the strange feeling hanging in the room. It works - he bites.

"What's with the assumption?" He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking slightly. "Maybe I'd kill to watch - what was that one? Go back... Maybe I'd like to watch 13 Going on 30."

You snort. "I apologise profusely for thinking the only two movies you'd like were Mad Max and Mad Max Fury Road."

"You forgot Furiosa too." His eyes twinkle and he hides a smirk behind his mug as he takes a sip and despite the day you'd had, you find yourself smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

"Bucky Barnes, biker leader and film connoisseur." You chuckle. "Quite the title."

"I wear it with pride." He grins. "But I'll settle with something I don't have to think too hard about."

You manage to find a light-hearted action-comedy to stick on but Bucky only makes it through the first forty minutes before his head slumps against your shoulder. You startle and go to move him when you see how soundly he's sleeping, not a peep escaping his pink lips, long lashes curled against his skin. He looked like a cherub; round-faced, innocent and angelic. Such a contrast to the man that he is. However, you don't move him, letting the leader of the White Wolves rest his weary head on your shoulder for a restful while.

You don't remember seeing the end of the movie or feeling your eyes grow heavy. All you remember is that by daybreak, when the orange sun peeks it's way into your living room and the birds begin their morning sonatas, you wake up on Bucky's chest with a blanket draped across you both... and willfully close your eyes and go back to sleep.

The incessant beeping of a fire alarm jolts you from your slumber. Panic clutches at you as you think your home, your café, your dream, is on fire. You're on the sofa - alone - and fight your way out of the blanket cursing Bucky for leaving you, falling to the floor with a thump. The floor creaks unsteadily and you curse. You should have gotten that hole fixed.

You can see the grey smoke descending and the smell of burning....

Bacon?

"Doll, are you okay?" It's Bucky's voice. You rub at your eyes and clamber to your feet, ready to run.

What you see, instead of a burly man fighting his way through fire to rescue you, is Bucky waving smoke away from the detector. He curses loudly and looks behind him to the stove where more plumes of smoke rise whilst you make sleepy sense of the situation.

"I tried making breakfast." Bucky says, slightly panicked, giving you a sheepish smile. "But I think I ruined it."

You really, really want to frown but instead a laugh sputters free from your throat, your heart taking its time to settle to a calm pace. Bucky's face lights up and he chuckles softly giving you the sweetest puppy-dog eyes he can muster. Had he always looked at you like that? Lips perfectly pouted, eyes gently pleading for your sympathy? Surely not.

"Perhaps I should've left the cooking to you."

You find yourself smiling - still not frowning - when your eyes meet his. "Perhaps you should've. What havoc have you wreaked on my kitchen?"

Thankfully, the only damage Bucky had wrought was on the bacon; utterly singed to black curls in the frying pan. You shoo him away as you scrape the remains into the trash and start afresh with a pot of boiling water and a now bacon-ash free frying pan.

Four small, colourful sllicone bowls get a swipe of olive oil on a ball of kitchen roll before being filled with one egg each. Bucky watches on, fascinated with your fluid movements around the stove. The fresh bacon sizzles softly in the pan and you place the egg bowls into the boiling pot before clanking the lid on top. Bread gets thrown into the toaster - four slices - and you shoot Bucky a smug smile as you flick the kettle on.

"I take it you like your bacon crispy?" You tease and Bucky chuckles sheepishly.

"I do like it to have some crunch." He says, reaching up to the cupboard you point to and pulling out two mugs. You try not to let your eyes linger as his shirt lifts as he reaches for the mugs and focus yourself on pulling out the instant coffee, sugar and butter from the fridge.

The toast pops and the sound of cold butter scraping along the crisped surface fills the space between you and Bucky while he adds coffee and hot water to your mugs. As you pull the bacon to lay it across the toast you instruct him on how many teaspoons of sugar and how many dashes of milk you take. The next step is removing your eggs from the pot, slowly, carefully and using a spoon to carve into the curvature of the silicone; removing a perfectly cooked, runny poached egg. Once two of the eggs are placed on one plate, you hand it to Bucky before repeating the same onto your plate. You slice open your egg yolk with a knife and let it run over your toast before pushing a piece onto your fork but before you take a bite you glance to Bucky and find he's braving his breakfast with his hands and a dream.

"This is delicious." He says around a big mouthful, a stray golden tear of egg yolk escaping the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, doll."

"Don't mention it, fire hazard." You chuckle and inwardly stall. Talk about insensitive on your part. "I'm not just a pretty face."

"Mm." Bucky nods, licking away the yolk from his chin, unperturbed by your terrible nickname."You're not."

As quickly as heat begins to bloom in your stomach, you squash it back down. Just because you fell asleep on him - technically twice, but who's counting? - and made him breakfast didn't mean things were different now somehow. You let him stay and made breakfast because you're a good person.

And because you're hoping Bucky will appreciate your kindness and not extort you. Right?

Right.

"I hate to ask this but I'm going to have to call a meeting today," Bucky says, thumbing away yolk residue and cleaning his thumb with a kiss. "Could we use the café as a meeting point?"

You make a sound of uncertainty and ponder his question. On the one hand, you'd miss a day of business and have your café filled with upset and frustrated bikers. On the other, there's the whole not being extorted thing and you can catch up on inventory, stock and prepare anything else.

"Alright." You half-sigh. "I'll get some admin done and give you guys lunch."

"Doll, you don't-" You hold up a hand and his mouth snaps shut.

"I insist. If Joaquin and Hoskins are awake, I'll get Sam to take theirs to them." Your eyes meet his and you smile. "But you're doing the dishes."

Seeing the White Wolves look so upset made your heart break, though you weren't surprised to find that once they'd all arrived, most of your floor space had disappeared too.

Sam had arrived first, tired and worn after spending the night sick with worry at the hospital. Both you and Bucky had cornered him the moment he stepped foot over the threshold.

"Are they okay?" Both you and Bucky say in unison. Sam looks between you both and shakes his head.

"Joaquin is stable and under supervision." He says and then looks to his boots. "Hoskins is in ICU."

"What about Walker? Maximoff?" Bucky asks.

"Piertro got the girls to safety thanks to Joaquin, Hoskins and Walker. Walker was trying to fend off two attackers." Sam gives Bucky a concerned look. "However, Walker is AWOL. He's not with his family or in the usual spots around town."

Bucky grumbled and shook his head shooting you a "you shouldn't hear this" look, prompting you to announce you were going to make a start on lunch. By the time everyone else had arrived, lunch was ready and waiting and Bucky took the opportunity to update them on whatever he and Sam had spoken about while they ate and you busied yourself in the store room. Eventually, you stepped back out to your serving counter to do basic inventory (and sneakily listen for updates) while they discussed next steps.

"Steve, call the Destroyers and Panthers. See if they've heard anything." Bucky scratches at his stubble thoughtfully. "Meanwhile, I want someone around Torres and Hoskins twenty-four-seven. If they were cowardly enough to attack the younger members when we were out of town I wouldn't put it past them to try and get into the hospital."

Everyone nods in acknowledgement.

"Punisher and Clint, you both find Walker, if you can. I have questions that need answering. Alexei, you stick with Steve. Anything happens I want updates."

Yelena pipes up. "What about me and Wanda? We have school and work to go to."

"Take sick days." Bucky huffs impatiently. "You're always playing hookie Lena, that shouldn't be too hard to do."

Some of the bikers chuckle and Alexei pats Lena's shoulder and she looks sheepish. There's a few more questions about Hoskins and Joaquin, their injuries and about their families before Sam asks the million dollar question.

"Where are we gonna congregate now that the club is gone?" Sam glances over to you and then back to Bucky but before Bucky can come up with an answer, you're already speaking.

"Come here. I may have customers some days but you can come through the storeroom out back." You point through the open door behind you. "It leads up to my apartment."

A few of the bikers and do a double take and glance at Bucky as if to make sure they're hearing you correctly. You're not even sure if you're hearing you correctly.

"You heard the lady." Bucky shrugs, crossing his arms, leaving no room for negotiation. The surge of pride that swelled in your chest at the acknowledgement and respect made a little voice in your mind nag - but you chose to ignore it. "Come through the storeroom. As for the club, Nat, I need you to call the insurance company and get that sorted out."

When the Wolves disband, more focused when they entered, Bucky sighs heavily sagging against the counter. You slide him a mug of fresh coffee with a sympathetic smile and he looks up at you, looking ready to melt into the floor.

"You okay?"

Bucky's eyes are tired - even though he'd had a full eight hours the trauma, stress and general discomfort of sleeping on the sofa had done a number on him.

"I just... hate the waiting." He says quietly after clearing his throat, sipping the coffee. "I don't know what to do with myself."

"There's a hole under the sofa that needs fixing, if you want something to do." You joke but Bucky's eyes light up with purpose.

"I could fix it."

"A-are you sure?" You stammer awkwardly. "You don't have to, I was kidding."

"Least I could do, Cupcake." Bucky purrs back with a smirk. "I'll get some supplies. You said the air mattress is up in that spare room too?"

You nod, feeling a little dumbfounded. You'd given up your apartment without a second thought but at least Bucky was making himself useful. "In my office. Sheets and spare comforter are in the closet."

Bucky nods back, stealing your notepad and making a short list of some items in a scrawl you almost can't decipher. He tears out the page and tucks your pen behind his ear, winking at you as he heads towards the entrance of the café.

"I'll be back soon. The boys won't need to meet until maybe tomorrow unless anything happens so feel free to re-open."

Soon, as it turns out, was almost two hours later. Bucky had borrowed Alexei's truck - a beautiful, beat up red flat bed - and had returned toolbox in hand and a plank of thin plywood over his shoulder.

You're busy serving customers but everyone stops to watch him saunter behind the counter and disappear up the stairs, whistling a made-up tune.

"Was that-" The customer your currently serving points to the back of house where Bucky had been moments prior.

"I'm just getting some work done." You say quickly, handing her her coffee. "He came highly recommended."

Throughout the day you can hear various bangs and clashes from upstairs and, finally, after closing you make your way upstairs to your apartment, fearful of the mess that may await you.

You're pleasantly surprised to find the place is as you left it. The hole under your sofa has been expertly repaired, the plank of of plywood serving as a mis-matched replacement. Bucky rounds the corner from your bathroom cleaning a wrench with a rag and huffs in surprise when he sees you before breaking into a grin.

"You done for the day, Cupcake?"

You realise you've been staring and blink owlishly at him. "I - uh - yeah."

He points behind him to the bathroom, tossing the rag over his shoulder. Your pen is still tucked behind his ear, keeping hair from his face. Maybe you should let him borrow a hair tie.

You kick the thought to the curb as soon as it enters your head. You're not roommates. You're not friends. You're helping out... an extorter?

"You had a leaky faucet that was driving me nuts." He says nonchalantly. "And the water pressure in the shower's fixed too."

"I - well, thank you." You knew the bothersome faucet well, as well as the finicky water pressure. Bucky had just saved you at least a few hundred dollars instead of calling out a plumber. "You didn't have to."

"Eh, well," Bucky shrugs, giving you a boyish grin that made his eyes sparkle. "We'll call it even after I get us dinner."

"Dinner?" Your stomach growls on command. After re-opening you didn't get the chance to eat real food. "Please don't tell me you're going to cook again?"

Bucky chuckles and leans against the wall, making it harder for you to concentrate for some strange reason.

"Ha Ha, real funny doll. No, there's a great pizza place in town that delivers." He raises and eyebrow at you. "If you're okay with pizza?"

"Who isn't okay with pizza?" You challenge playfully and Bucky's grin widens.

"Good. I'll put an order in and shower." He heaves himself away from the wall. "I'll let you choose the movie again, but this time make sure it's good."

Bucky disappears into the bathroom and when you hear the water running, you're surprised to find your heart is fluttering wildly in your chest and you're smiling again.

Despite it not being a good sign in the slightest, you have to admit that Bucky's handiness has saved you money and his company isn't an entirely abhorrent experience. Plus, you're now getting free food.

Begrudgingly, you give Bucky a point his own tally; making you even.

You - One.

Bucky - One.

After enjoying a delicious pizza and a terrible movie you actually managed to watch this time, you'd both headed to your separate rooms to retire for the night relatively early. You were glad Bucky had chosen not to tease you about the sofa-sleep-cuddle situation; you'd think you'd combust if you spoke about it out loud but it played on your mind the entire night.

The following day, Tuesday, was an errand day. Which meant mostly shopping. You were prepping an itinerary on the sofa, comparing it to your stock list you took the morning before when Bucky emerged from the spare room. Despite being on an air mattress this time, Bucky looked even worse than the day before.

He wasn't just tired, he was zombified. No amount of caffeine could fix that.

"You sleep okay?" You ask, voice laced with concern. The last thing you needed was him to be grouchy.

Bucky shakes his head, brown hair falling in front of his face, before yawning loudly. "Just restless."

You hum disbelievingly but your mind flits to the cot in the club, to the sofa you're sat on and then finally to the air mattress. None of these were entirely comfortable.

"Sleep in my bed tonight." You offer with a soft smile. He definitely needed the sleep and a small comfort in this trying time.

Bucky seems to do a double take, tripping over his words. "Are you - you want - you're okay with that?"

You snort a laugh, confused but still trying to be a gracious host. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Bucky blinks and beams at you. "It - nothing."

You shake you're head with a smile. He really must be tired - his brain clearly isn't functioning properly. "Oh! I'm also going shopping today so if you want anything just text me."

"Alright. Thanks doll." Bucky smiles before padding to the bathroom. "I'll see you later?"

"Yep. I should be home around three."

The stores were busier than you'd anticipated and instead of being home at three like you'd wished, you were home around four-thirty.

You had, in fairness, taken a bit of a detour stopping at a department store to pick clothes up for Bucky.

Bucky had been wearing the same clothes for two days now and you had come to the sinking realisation that all of his clothes must have been at the club and he didn't think to buy himself anymore when he went out Monday. Besides, the last thing you needed was Bucky walking around naked while you washed his clothes.

No lights were on when you entered the apartment which was odd. No TV, no sound, merely the drip of the kitchen sink.

"Bucky?" You call, wandering into the living room and flicking a light on. Most of your groceries had been packed away downstairs in the bigger fridges but you'd brought the new clothes and the more immediate-use groceries upstairs in carrier bags. You dumped all but the clothes-bag next to the kitchen counter and wandered to the rooms.

"Hey, I'm back."

You wonder if Bucky is napping or if he'd gone out since the shower wasn't running, but there's no light from anyone of the rooms.

With a hapless shrug, you open the door to your bedroom, flooding it with the warm light of your living room, only to be greeted with Bucky smirking over at you, lying on his his side looking so very damn seductive it should be a crime.

"Making me wait all day for this," he purrs. "You're cruel, Cupcake."

You stagger back with a shriek and cover your face, dropping the bag of clothes at your feet. You can feel the burn of a blush scald your palms. Bucky was in your bed. Naked. His bare, beautiful ass on your bedsheets.

"Ohmygod!" You breathe, but his image has already been burned into your retinas.

"I haven't even done anything yet, Cupcake." Bucky teases smugly and you can see him move to flex his abs between your fingers. "Why don't you come over here an-"

"You pervert!" You shrill, kicking the bag over to him. "Why would I- you- urgh!"

"Pervert? I-" Bucky's cheeks burn bright when he opens the bag to find new pyjamas, jeans, shirts, boxers and socks neatly folded inside it. "Oh."

"Oh?" You squeak, glaring at him. "OH?!"

Bucky looks up at you with wide eyes, looking incredibly sheepish. "This morning you said I could sleep in here tonight."

Your eyes bulge at him. "And I would take the air mattress?"

Silence falls as you both stare at each other; realisation of what you had meant turning Bucky's face into a tomato. You don't like how the air thick and stuffy, nor do you like how your eyes are desperate to look down at his bare torso or study the tattoos on his left arm.

Would it be so bad? He's been a perfect guest, he's attractive and those abs - no.

No.

No no no no no.

After a few more moments of staring, and worrying another organ that wasn't your brain was about to make a terrible decision, you turn on your heel and walk briskly from the room, slamming it shut behind you.

"Goodnight Bucky." You squeak out and you can hear the creaking of springs from your mattress as Bucky shifts and your face heats up even more as images of what could have been appear in your mind's eye.

No!

"Doll, wait-" You can hear Bucky scrambling, feet hopping around your bedroom floor as you sprint to the sofa. "Hey!"

Bucky emerges from your room clad in a new pair of boxers following after you. The boxers are tight in all of the wrong places and you look to the cieling hoping some higher power will smite you on the spot.

"I didn't know!" Bucky's face burns red with a thousand suns. "I thought we'd -"

"Don't finish that sentence." You shriek desperately. He can't put it into words. Not now. Not ever.

"I- I thought...." Bucky stammers and swallows thickly. Then he looks at his feet with a small shrug.

"Uh, is this a good time?"

Both you and Bucky's heads whip around to see Steve standing in your doorway. He's smiling and rosy-cheeked, obviously trying to contain his laughter.

"How the hell did you get in?" You snap and Steve, still smiling, shrugs.

"Door was open." Before you can argue with him, Steve gestures between you and Bucky. "Chris and Curtis think they may have found something. Am I interrupting?"

You clamp your mouth shut and glower at Steve, embarassment overpowering you as you storm to the bathroom. "No, you're not! Take him! I'm having a shower."

You slam the door and turn on the shower, your heart hammering so hard you're sure it thuds against the door. You can still hear Bucky and Steve over the water.

"Don't you dare tell Sam about this." Bucky growls.

"Oh, I am so telling Sam about this." Steve laughs back and you can hear hushed muttering and Bucky padding back to your room. After a few minutes, you hear Steve laughing again and you bury your face in your. However, when you glance to the mirror, you can see that you're smiling despite the embarassment.

The whole thing was pretty funny if you thought about it hard enough.

Although, you'd almost let yourself be tempted by Bucky and that was dangerous, in the grand scheme of things, Bucky was ultimately more embarassed than you, so that was a point in your favour.

You - Two

Bucky - One.

Moments later the front door closes as Steve and Bucky disappear into the night.

The door slams open hours later, startling you from a light slumber. You'd been watching trashy TV, unable to settle once Bucky had left. The longer the hours dragged the more worried you became and the more frustrated.

Frustrated that Bucky made you worry about him.

You jump to your feet seeing a figure half slumping in your doorway and in the dim flicker of the TV, periwinkle blue eyes with flecks of misted green meet yours and you rush over to Bucky.

You smack on the light switch and Bucky winces at the sudden blinding light. His left eye is red and swollen, ready to bruise to a plum over the next few days. There's a cut to his right cheek, his lip is split and bloody and there's blood seeping between his fingers that are clutching his right bicep.

"What the fuck happened to you?" You yell

"Good evening to you too, doll." Bucky groans, shuffling his feet inside your apartment. Your face glowers up at him from his armpit as you wrap your arm around his waist and take his left arm in the other to hurriedly guide him to your sofa.

He collapses onto it with an "oomph" and much to his surprise, and yours, you begin to focus your attention to his injuries. It's like a switch has flipped - you're concern for the injured trumping your alleged hatred. Your mind races with what you can see. Swollen eye. Cuts. Stab wound.

"Keep pressure on your arm. I'll be back." You order, flying past your door and locking it before heading to your bathroom sink and ripping out its contents like a wild animal. You wade through plasters to find a long-lost surture kit and a tiny first aid bag before sprinting back to Bucky.

Bucky's breathing is laboured, teeth gritted in pain as you settle on the floor beside him, pillow under your knees for a small comfort while you try to remember your first aid training.

Blood supply. You needed to slow the blood flow.

You don't even ask permission as you begin to remove Bucky's belt. Bucky's eyebrows shoot up into his hair.

"Woah, if I knew getting stabbed would have you this feral, I would've-"

"Shut up." You hiss at him angrily as the belt slithers free from the loops. You wrap the belt tightly around his shoulder, just above the entry wound, and pull it tight. Despite Bucky's curse of pain, the wound pulses under the strain and the skin surrounding slowly goes white as blood slowly stops flowing as fast.

You're quick but clumsy, ripping open a sterile antiseptic wipe and cleaning around the wound so you could see it without blood getting in the way.

"Have you ever done this before?" Bucky asks as you toss the wipe in favour of a new one.

"Nope." You reply, eyes not leaving the wound. Bucky growls as you drag the wipe over the wound finally, and can see what damage has been done. "Talk to me about tonight. What happened?"

Bucky braces as you wipe at some congealed blood gently, inspecting further, but begins to rattle off the events of the night. He and Steve had managed to find a lead that led to a bar on the outskirts of town but when they had got there it was empty. However, upon leaving they'd been ambushed in a brawl.

"Came outta nowhere." Bucky huffed. "Luckily, Alexei and Sam had disobeyed orders to follow us so they were outnumbered. But not before I got this souvenir."

You glance up and see he's looking down at you, trying for a smile with his bloddy split lip. "But you shoulda seen the other guy."

"You're lucky it's only a few centimeters deep and not serious." You huff with a frown, releasing the skin in favour of a third wipe. "I'm glad Alexei and Sam were there too. I like that you all look out for one another."

"They're family. Family takes care of eachother." Bucky grunts before hissing as you drag an antiseptic wipe over the cut again.

"By extorting people and not getting a real job?" You snap, raising a challenging eyebrow at Bucky, who only grins back, infuriating you further as you work on his arm.

"I guess you could say that." Bucky half shrugs. "I could see why an outsider like you would think that."

"An outsider?" You press, anger brewing as you inspect the now-clean cut. Bucky winces when you pry it open slightly, double-checking for any debris that may have lodged itself in his flesh. "Oh please elaborate."

"Everyone in Briarridge pays the fee - if you haven't noticed, the police around here don't do much." Bucky huffs hair from his face. "We are the law. This place used to be decrepit. A festering pit for illegal activity. We had to do something. I had to do something."

"So you're a hero?" You scoff, opening the suture kit. "Some hero. If the people of Briarridge are so thankful, why did one of them stab you in the arm?"

"I said everyone pays, not that everyone is happy about it." Bucky sighs, bracing as you push the threaded needle through his arm. "We still have enemies."

"That narrows the list of suspects." You grit out, all of your focus on haphazardly stitching the wound together. Bucky's bicep twitches, his jaw sets from the pain but he refuses to make a sound. When you're done, you tie and snip the thread, sitting back to wipe away the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand.

"At least they didn't get my tattoo arm." Bucky jokes.

You glare at Bucky's playful expression and you're sure that when you sigh through your nose, smoke billows out. Irritating. Smug. Asshole.

Yet, the corner of your lips still curl upwards.

"Asshole." You mutter, getting to your feet. "Stay there I'm not done with you."

"I think I like you being my nurse, doll." Bucky calls to you as you pad to the bathroom. "You're a lot gentler than Steve is. That punk damn near gave me sepsis last time he fixed me up."

You chuckle to yourself as you grab the petroleum jelly and a large bandage from the bathroom cupboard stepping over your earlier mess, imagining Steve's giant, grubby pastry-crumbed hands trying to fix Bucky up. You wash your hands quickly and try to hide the blush that graces your cheeks at Bucky's compliment before you step back into the living room.

You sit back down next to him, crossing one leg underneath you and popping the lid of the jelly. Taking a dollop onto your fingers, you drag it over the fresh stitches you placed.

"What are you doing?" Bucky whispers, watching your fingers cover the wound in the cool jelly.

"This will keep dust out," you tell him, wiping your fingers onto your pyjama bottoms. "Help it heal over instead of clotting. Hopefully, you won't have much of a scar but you should still see a real nurse."

There's a loud pop as you open the bandage packet and begin to unravel it.

"How did you know to do that?"

"I've worked in more than one kitchen," you glance up at him with a sarcastic smile. "First aid is important."

Bucky nods and swallows, moving his arm outwards slightly when you tap it, allowing you to wrap the bandage around his thick bicep with ease. Even if you were adding a bow a little smugly.

"Thank you." Bucky says after a few moments, staring at his arm, then at you, eyes brimming with sincerity. "For everything."

The suddeness and sincerity of Bucky's words have you doing a double take and you roll an awkward shrug. "It's no problem."

"You're something else, you know that?" Bucky murmurs, leaning closer. "You're tougher than you look."

To your inner most horror, you start to lean in too, mesmerised by those blue eyes that are full of playful sincerity and plump lips that are just begging to be kissed.

"You're an asshole." You murmur back, but there's no venom behind it.

"I don't doubt it." Bucky chuckles lowly. "But you like it - if you didn't, you wouldn't have offered to let me stay."

You didn't like the accusation - the call out - and open your mouth to protest but Bucky continues.

"And," His breath is warm against your lips as he crowds you, his tattooed hand cradling your face; not to stop you from pulling away, but holding you suspended in place. "If you didn't like me just a little, you wouldn't have picked my bike to ride on. Picked me to cling to for a day."

All the air in your lungs has dissipated. You don't pull away, you're speechless, voiceless; lost in a moment. But Bucky has tethered you, he is a lifeline, and with a gentle caress of his thumb you breathe again.

"Well, Cupcake?" Bucky presses, eyes boring into yours. "Cat got that whip-smart tongue of yours?"

You blink and try to think of an ample excuse, a quip, anything but Bucky. But there's nothing and you knew there would be. Since moving to this town and meeting him, he'd consumed your thoughts, your dreams, every waking moment. You had tried to scheme, to plot, to ploy and yet all you had done was deny the inevitable. You'd tried to fight it. But goddammit, he was infuriatingly sexy and he knew it.

Knowing when you'd been beat was a lesson that most people learned lying down, and you were no exception. When Bucky had no answer, an answer in and of itself, he'd pressed his lips against yours.

His hand moved into your hair; a warm comfort against your scalp, urging you further towards him. He was gentle, unlike how you'd imagined (or pretended you didn't) over the last few weeks, his lips his lips slowly moving against yours like he was preparing you for ruin, despite the fact you were melting like butter in a hot pan to his touch.

You'd argue that he caught you off guard. You hadn't expected an attack of passion at all. An unplanned attack that, even if you gave yourself a point for fixing him up, you remained even.

You - Two.

Bucky - Two.

Chapter 4 - END

A/N: ohoho it seems the enemies have become lovers 😏

Taglist

Add yourself here

@irishhappiness @awkwardgiraffe726 @dugiioh @cieraboobear @bridgetina @vunblr @pickuptruck01 @yenzys-lucky-charm @mercurial-chuckles @mrs-elsie-barnes @looking1016 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @railmesebstan @pandaxnienke @kei943 @norseloki26 @wintercrows

[rebelfell]

✦ Stranger Things Masterlist ✦

My works generally feature a cis, fem reader with limited physical descriptors. Just by virtue of being written by me, they will likely be shy/inexperienced ‘cos I write what I know, y’know? There are individual warnings on each. If you come across something you think needs a warning, please let me know (gently, I am but a fragile soufflé ready to sink)

anything 🌶️ is marked with a*

EVERYTHING is 18+, MDNI for your sake and mine

The Third Date┃Part One┃Part Two~

eddie munson x anorgasmic!reader - 14k

Surrender┃Part One ┃Part Two*┃Part Three*

eddie munson x bi!reader x lesbian!chrissy cunningham - 18k

Bells Will Be Ringing┃Part One*┃Part Two*

crush!steve harrington x fem!reader x fwb!eddie munson - 16k

Hold Your Peace in Pieces┃TBD

engaged!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader -

this summer is the apocalypse, pt II, pt III*, pt IV*, eddie’s interlude, part V, epilogue~, epilogue II~, epilogue III

thinking thoughts on eddie and an older!Harrington!reader (aka: stevie’s aunt has got it goin’ on)

for your viewing pleasure* vol. 1, vol. 2

featuring pornstar!eddie and his director!reader

are you even listening to me?, cont’d, preq, preq II

bestfriend!eddie gets distracted by your…assets.

working on my fitness, pt II, pt III

a gym meet cute w/ modern!eddie (neighbors au)

special delivery*

someone unexpected shows up to deliver your pizza

made for lovin’ you*

softdom!eddie makes a bad tinder date a whole lot better

shelter from the storm~

when the power goes out, your neighbor eddie checks in

under the influence

an edible loosens your lips in front of your frenemy, eddie

haven’t had any complaints yet*

the trials and tribulations of giving van head over forty

game night* (surrender universe)

chrissy and eddie get extra competitive, you benefit

in the middle of the night*

boyfriend!steve helps to soothe what ails us🩸

cold dry stone*

revenge f!cking with gator 🐊

american engine

truck smut for truck smut’s sake 🛻 (w/ steve)

you’re not gonna tell on me, are you?

linecook!eddie can get away with literally anything 🚬

that Vanity Fair party was…a lot*

actor!steve x assistant!reader x rockstar!eddie spice

buzzcut season, rockstar!eddie musing*

dmm, i’m just embracing the shaved-head era

I didn’t know you were into that…

you’ve been watching too many ghostface tiktoks 🔪

modern!wealthy!Steve? How’d you get in here?

steve spoils his girl in the midst of a hangover

wait, are you a…have you never?*

bigdick!steve x virgin!reader 🏕️

felt in need of some affection…

sweet!soft!eddie vignette

possessive.┃eddie shows you who you belong to

multiples.┃eddie wants you to arrive properly

urgent.┃eddie can do better than he can

hesitant.┃eddie and you try something new

how can you be sad on love’s birthday? 💌

a very flangsty valentine’s day w/ bestfriend!eddie

so wrong, it’s right, so right, it’s wrong 🎃

eddie munson x his best friend’s (ex?) girl

you’ve never seen gremlins? 🎃

it’s scary movie night at eddie’s house

you’re a what? (WCIL-verse) 🎃

modern!eddie bumps into you at a halloween party

how much of that can is left? 🦃

you + eddie + whipped topping

today is a no bones day 🦃

you and eddie in recovery mode

#index - landing pages for long form/multi-part blurbs & fics

#free write - bursts of writing based on images/other posts

#my moods - fic/character moodboards, (aka I spent too much time spent daydreaming on pinterest again)

#thrift shop eddie - short blurbs about all the odd and random gifts I would terrorize shower Eddie with if given the chance

© 2024 rebelfell All Rights Reserved. Any written work on this blog is my own and I do not consent for it to be copied, altered or re-posted in any form or to be fed into AI software.

[viridianriver]

'Artificial Intelligence' Tech - Not Intelligent as in Smart - Intelligence as in 'Intelligence Agency'

I work in tech, hell my last email ended in '.ai' and I used to HATE the term Artificial Intelligence. It's computer vision, it's machine learning, I'd always argue.

Lately, I've changed my mind. Artificial Intelligence is a perfectly descriptive word for what has been created. As long as you take the word 'Intelligence' to refer to data that an intelligence agency or other interested party may collect.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back when I was in 'AI' - the vibe was just odd. Investors were throwing money at it as fast as they could take out loans to do so. All the while, engineers were sounding the alarm that 'AI' is really just a fancy statistical tool and won't ever become truly smart let alone conscious. The investors, baffingly, did the equivalent of putting their fingers in their ears while screaming 'LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU"

Meanwhile, CEOs were making all sorts of wild promises about what AI will end up doing, promises that mainly served to stress out the engineers. Who still couldn't figure out why the hell we were making this silly overhyped shit anyway.

SYSTEMS THINKING

As Stafford Beer said, 'The Purpose of A System is What It Does" - basically meaning that if a system is created, and maintained, and continues to serve a purpose? You can read the intended purpose from the function of a system. (This kind of thinking can be applied everywhere - for example the penal system. Perhaps, the purpose of that system is to do what it does - provide an institutional structure for enslavement / convict-leasing?)

So, let's ask ourselves, what does AI do? Since there are so many things out there calling themselves AI, I'm going to start with one example. Microsoft Copilot.

Microsoft is selling PCs with integrated AI which, among other things, frequently screenshots and saves images of your activity. It doesn't protect against copying passwords or sensitive data, and it comes enabled by default. Now, my old-ass-self has a word for that. Spyware. It's a word that's fallen out of fashion, but I think it ought to make a comeback.

To take a high-level view of the function of the system as implemented, I would say it surveils, and surveils without consent. And to apply our systems thinking? Perhaps its purpose is just that.

SOCIOLOGY

There's another principle I want to introduce - that an institution holds insitutional knowledge. But it also holds institutional ignorance. The shit that for the sake of its continued existence, it cannot know.

For a concrete example, my health insurance company didn't know that my birth control pills are classified as a contraceptive. After reading the insurance adjuster the Wikipedia articles on birth control, contraceptives, and on my particular medication, he still did not know whether my birth control was a contraceptive. (Clearly, he did know - as an individual - but in his role as a representative of an institution - he was incapable of knowing - no matter how clearly I explained)

So - I bring this up just to say we shouldn't take the stated purpose of AI at face value. Because sometimes, an institutional lack of knowledge is deliberate.

HISTORY OF INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES

The first formalized intelligence agency was the British Secret Service, founded in 1909. Spying and intelligence gathering had always been a part of warfare, but the structures became much more formalized into intelligence agencies as we know them today during WW1 and WW2.

Now, they're a staple of statecraft. America has one, Russia has one, China has one, this post would become very long if I continued like this...

I first came across the term 'Cyber War' in a dusty old aircraft hanger, looking at a cold-war spy plane. There was an old plaque hung up, making reference to the 'Upcoming Cyber War' that appeared to have been printed in the 80s or 90s. I thought it was silly at the time, it sounded like some shit out of sci-fi.

My mind has changed on that too - in time. Intelligence has become central to warfare; and you can see that in the technologies military powers invest in. Mapping and global positioning systems, signals-intelligence, of both analogue and digital communication.

Artificial intelligence, as implemented would be hugely useful to intelligence agencies. A large-scale statistical analysis tool that excels as image recognition, text-parsing and analysis, and classification of all sorts? In the hands of agencies which already reportedly have access to all of our digital data?

TIKTOK, CHINA, AND AMERICA

I was confused for some time about the reason Tiktok was getting threatened with a forced sale to an American company. They said it was surveiling us, but when I poked through DNS logs, I found that it was behaving near-identically to Facebook/Meta, Twitter, Google, and other companies that weren't getting the same heat.

And I think the reason is intelligence. It's not that the American government doesn't want me to be spied on, classified, and quantified by corporations. It's that they don't want China stepping on their cyber-turf.

The cyber-war is here y'all. Data, in my opinion, has become as geopolitically important as oil, as land, as air or sea dominance. Perhaps even more so.

A CASE STUDY : ELON MUSK

As much smack as I talk about this man - credit where it's due. He understands the role of artificial intelligence, the true role. Not as intelligence in its own right, but intelligence about us.

In buying Twitter, he gained access to a vast trove of intelligence. Intelligence which he used to segment the population of America - and manpulate us.

He used data analytics and targeted advertising to profile American voters ahead of this most recent election, and propogandize us with micro-targeted disinformation. Telling Israel's supporters that Harris was for Palestine, telling Palestine's supporters she was for Israel, and explicitly contradicting his own messaging in the process. And that's just one example out of a much vaster disinformation campaign.

He bought Trump the white house, not by illegally buying votes, but by exploiting the failure of our legal system to keep pace with new technology. He bought our source of communication, and turned it into a personal source of intelligence - for his own ends. (Or... Putin's?)

This, in my mind, is what AI was for all along.

CONCLUSION

AI is a tool that doesn't seem to be made for us. It seems more fit-for-purpose as a tool of intelligence agencies, oligarchs, and police forces. (my nightmare buddy-cop comedy cast) It is a tool to collect, quantify, and loop-back on intelligence about us.

A friend told me recently that he wondered sometimes if the movie 'The Matrix' was real and we were all in it. I laughed him off just like I did with the idea of a cyber war.

Well, I re watched that old movie, and I was again proven wrong. We're in the matrix, the cyber-war is here. And know it or not, you're a cog in the cyber-war machine.

(edit -- part 2 - with the 'how' - is here!)

[zaczenemiji]

Could I request a Kenji x Reader where the reader is an Ailen who is very much stranded on Earth and on The run from the KDF who wants access to their tech

Among the Stars I

Kenji Sato x Alien!Reader

Word Count: 1,766

Genre/Warning: Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Author’s Note: To me, reader is an alien in the sense that she is a foreigner to this planet; how she looks is up to you. Takes place after Emi. AND I THINK AOSHIMA DESERVES RECOGNITION LIKE 🫢 AIN’T HE HOT TOO?????

MASTERLIST

The stars twinkled in the dark expanse of space as you navigated through the cosmos. This wasn’t the first time you traversed through the void. In fact, you were a professional at this.

Being one of the respected astrophysicists of your planet, you have always been one sent on space voyages. Your mission was simple, something you were good at, so what could possibly go wrong?

At least that’s what you thought a few moments ago.

"Engine malfunction detected. Immediate landing required.”

As if the flashing red lights and blaring alarms weren’t enough, the onboard AI wouldn’t shut up either, all of them adding up to the panic in your already pounding heart.

“Engine failure. Emergency landing procedure initiated.”

Your struggle to regain control was hopeless. Assessing your options, Earth was the nearest habitable planet. With no time to spare, you steered the spacecraft towards the blue planet.

The descent was turbulent, flames licking at the hull as the spacecraft entered Earth's atmosphere. You gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain the little control you had left.

Scanning the residential area that stretched beneath, you spotted a forested area and made a split-second decision. With expert precision, your maneuver slowed down the descent just enough to avoid a catastrophic impact.

The spacecraft touched down with a jolt, skidding through the underbrush before coming to a stop. Smoke billowed from the damaged engines and you knew you needed to secure the craft first.

Despite the damage, the emergency propulsion system still had enough power for short-distance travel. With steady hands, you activated the system again, guiding the spacecraft toward a nearby body of water.

The craft hovered momentarily above with a soft hum. Carefully pushing the controls, you maneuvered it into a controlled descent where it submerged beneath the water, disappearing from view.

In the control room of the Kaiju Defense Force, monitors flickered with data streams from satellite scans displaying Japan’s airspace and terrestrial activity.

"Report," Aoshima commanded.

"Sir, we've detected a significant impact in sector 7G. Satellite images indicate a disturbance in the forested area, consistent with an object of considerable mass landing."

Aoshima scrutinized the images, noting the telltale signs of a recent crash landing, “Any signs of the object itself?"

"Negative visual confirmation, sir. The object appears to have made impact and then moved into concealment."

"Prepare a recon team," Aoshima ordered crisply. "I want a full scan of the area. Notify all units in the vicinity to be on alert."

Aoshima contemplated the implications. For years, KDF had struggled against the relentless onslaught of kaiju attacks under Dr. Onda. His last will was for the survival of KDF.

Aoshima shared Dr. Onda’s vision and if this alien technology held the key to turning the tide in humanity's favor, they couldn't afford to hesitate.

Meanwhile, having just emerged from the submerged spacecraft, you cautiously explored the area. Your advanced sensors warned you of Earth's surveillance systems, but you had hoped to remain undetected.

Your hope, however, was short-lived as the sound of whirring and a shadow passing overhead alerted you to the arrival of drones. Quickly, you dashed into the forest, heart pounding as you navigated the unfamiliar terrain.

Above you, the drones buzzed in pursuit, their sensors tracking your every move. Their operators relayed your position to ground units, who quickly mobilized to intercept.

You emerged onto the outskirts of a bustling city. Buildings towered overhead and streets were crowded with unsuspecting pedestrians. You had to blend in to evade capture.

Tokyo has always been bustling with a sea of people moving with purpose. Among them was Kenji and today, his life would take a turn he could never have predicted.

He was jogging through a quieter part of the city when suddenly, a force collided with him, nearly knocking him off balance. Looking down, he saw a woman his age, face partially obscured by a hooded cloak.

You looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry," you gasped, glancing over your shoulder. "I... I need to go."

Before Kenji could respond, you tried to bolt, but he gently grabbed your arm. "Hey, what's going on?” He asked, genuinely concerned. “You look terrified."

You hesitated, clearly torn between fear and the need for help. Before you could decide, KDF agents appeared at the end of the street.

“Surrender peacefully, and we won't harm you," one of them demanded sternly.

"No," you replied, a slight determination in your trembling voice.

Kenji’s instincts flared. To him, KDF has been nothing but trouble. So without a word, he pulled you behind him, putting himself between you and the agents.

They slowed, eyes narrowing at Kenji. "This is official business," the leader said, his voice cold. "Step aside."

Kenji ignored the command, gripping your hand tighter. "Run," he whispered urgently, before leading you in a sprint away from KDF.

The two of you took off with Kenji guiding you through a series of narrow alleyways and bustling streets.

"Over here," he whispered, pulling you into a side street. You dodged through a market, running between stalls and startled shoppers. The KDF was temporarily delayed by the crowd, buying you precious seconds.

Kenji's heart pounded, both from the exertion and the adrenaline. "Keep your hood up," he urged you. "We can't let them see your face."

You continued running, the sound of pursuit growing fainter. Kenji led you through a maze of side streets, finally emerging onto a quieter residential road.

"Almost there," he panted, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

Finally, you reached a house guarded by a big gate on the outskirts of the city. Kenji quickly unlocked the gate and ushered you towards the house.

Inside, Kenji guided you to the living room, where you sank onto the couch, hood falling back and revealing your face.

“Mina, emergency analysis,” he said as a spherical robot hovered towards you, red light scanning your body.

"Scan complete," Mina announced. "Subject is experiencing elevated stress levels and minor physical exhaustion. No immediate threats and no tracking devices detected.”

"Thank you," you said, voice filled with gratitude and lingering fear.

Kenji nodded, breathing heavily. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, her gaze lingering on him with a mix of surprise and curiosity, “I didn't expect anyone to help."

"I'm Kenji," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

You hesitated briefly before shaking his hand, "I'm (y/n)."

"You can catch your breath here,” Kenji said, standing up. “I'll get us some water." He returned with two glasses of water; you accepted one gratefully.

"Why were those guys after you?" Kenji asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I'm not from Earth. I'm…” you hesitated but you owed him an explanation and also to save you from the trouble of pretending. “…an alien."

"An alien?” He blinked in surprise. “But you look human."

"Alien in the sense that I'm from a distant planet," you explained softly. "I crash-landed here not long ago.”

You told him everything—your mission, how you ended up being chased by what he referred to as the Kaiju Defense Force, and your spacecraft.

“I would like to ask another favor if it’s not too much,” you said with hesitation; Kenji helping you escape and sheltering you was already more than enough. “I need you to help me find Ultraman.”

You knew about Ultraman and his origin. You’ve been sent to Nebula M78 a couple of times already. If there’s someone who could help you get back to your planet, it’s him.

“Ultraman?” Kenji's eyes widened. “Why?"

“I know of him,” you said. "He might be the only one who can help me.”

Kenji took a deep breath, realizing he couldn't keep his secret any longer. "Well, there’s something you should know,” he said.

“What is it?” You asked, confused.

He looked straight into your eyes, his face set with resolve, “I'm Ultraman."

The room fell silent. "You're...” your eyes widened. “Ultraman?"

Kenji nodded, “Yes, and I’m not supposed to tell anyone but if helping you means revealing it, then so be it."

Your eyes teared up with joy. Just when you thought that this day was full of bad luck, here came your silver lining—a stunning man one at that.

Kenji asked you about the whereabouts of your spacecraft so he, in his Ultraman form, can bring it here in no time. His house had a basement submerged underwater which provided an easy way to bring it over.

His dad, the previous Ultra, happened to live with him. Kenji explained the situation and his dad, an expert in this field, generously offered to help.

Hayao circled the craft, examining it closely. "Impressive design," he muttered, running his hands over the hull. "But clearly, it's been through a lot."

"I think it’s the power core," you explained. "It was heavily depleted during the crash, and I can't get the ship operational again."

"I see. A power core like this...” Hayao nodded thoughtfully. “…it's incredibly advanced. Recharging it with Earth's technology would be almost impossible."

"So, there's no way to fix it?" You looked at him, worried and on the brink of tears.

"Not exactly,” he smiled reassuringly. “While we can't recharge it with conventional means, there might be another way. We need an alternative energy source—something with immense power."

"What about the energy that powers Ultraman?” Kenji stepped forward. “Could it work?"

Hayao considered this, nodding slowly. "It's possible,” he said. “Ultraman's energy is vast and unique. We might be able to transfer some of it to the power core."

Your eyes lit up with hope, “Do you think it could really work?" Hayao placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "It's worth a try.”

He explained that he would first need to create an energy transfer device. But with the resources here on Earth, it’s a trial and error to see which would be compatible with your spacecraft. Needless to say, it would take a lot longer before you could go back home.

Kenji led you down a hallway to a cozy guest room. He opened the door, revealing a spacious room with a bed, a dresser, and a big window overlooking the bay.

“You can stay here until we figure everything out,” Kenji said. “It's safer than being out there with the KDF looking for you."

"Are you sure?” You looked up at him. “I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not a burden,” he smiled reassuringly. “I’ll leave you to get some rest. We've got a lot to do tomorrow."

With that, you settled into the room with a sense of peace for the first time since crashing on Earth.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist @brazilsho @arrozyfrijoles23 @finestflora @mmeerraa @mianbaobaoo @skyeliteratures @themourningfox @despacito-uwu16 @crimson-mage-02 @vinegarjello @btszn @berryjuicyy @https-mika @reader-1290 @bakugouswaif

[alexanderwales]

The Index

This is an index of things I've written and posted online, with minimal descriptions because most of them have blurbs if you click the link. This list is not exhaustive, especially because there are a bunch of short stories and dribbles in various places. If something you liked is missing, let me know.

Web Serials

Worth the Candle - Juniper Smith is a teenaged Dungeon Master who ends up in a world filled with all the things he dreamt up for his campaigns, along with signs of his friend who died months earlier. This Used to be About Dungeons - Five teenagers live in a house together, bake bread, tend the garden, and occasionally fight monsters in dungeons. Thresholder - Thresholders travel from world to world, fantasy one minute and scifi the next, always encountering an opponent, growing stronger as they battle. Shadows of the Limelight - Fame gives you superpowers, and Dominic just saved the world's greatest hero from defeat in full view of a large audience. Glimwarden (unfinished) - A small town huddles around lanterns that keep the darklings at bay. Four teenagers must grow in power as the darkness encroaches. The Dark Wizard of Donkerk (unedited) - Two men steal a baby from an orphanage, then find out he's too cute to sacrifice and raise him as their own.

Fanfic

The Metropolitan Man (Superman) - Lex Luthor attempts to unravel the secrets of the alien. A Common Sense Guide to Doing the Most Good (Superman) - Superman gets really into effective altruism. Instruments of Destruction (Star Wars) - A fable of project management aboard the second Death Star, through the eyes of Admiral Tian Jerjerrod. Branches on the Tree of Time (Terminator) - Sarah Connor is working as a software engineer at UCLA when a naked man shows up on her doorstep. A Bluer Shade of White (Frozen) - Elsa can make life, and Olaf is smarter than he looks.

Shorts

Eager Readers in Your Area - Artificial intelligence has left authors scrambling for readers. Charlotte clicks on an ad. Variations - An orc visits an art exhibition where she feels out of place. Contratto - Julia takes a job as a marketer, working for the vampires to keep their secrets safe. The Randi Prize - James Randi offers a prize for anyone who can demonstrate supernatural abilities. Coming Home - After a long time isekaied to a fantasy kingdom, an errant father has coffee with his estranged son.

I also post short stuff to this very tumblr, which can usually be found under the #microfiction tag unless I forget. Usually this is mirrored on AO3, unless I'm lazy.

Web Comics

Millennial Scarlet - Lamont Pearce is a gig economy demon hunter whose mother ran a government agency meant to defend against Hell. Worth the Candle - A webcomic adaptation of the web serial

Non-Fiction

The AI Art Apocalypse - Slightly outdated thoughts from 2022. Why to Write a Sex Scene - Observations on the narrative purpose of carnal pursuits. Game Review: Underhill - This review contains no screenshots, because this game does not exist. Writing: An FAQ - Accumulated wisdom from 4 million words and counting. Creating Interesting Magic - A much-requested post on making interesting magic systems (and characters, and plots, and worlds). How to Write a Web Serial - It's both easier and harder than you think. The Trouble with Writing Nazis - On giving villains too much credit. Interesting Things to do with Time Loops - Exploring the boundaries of the conceit.

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk’s minions—from trusted sidekicks to random college students and former Musk company interns—have taken over the General Services Administration, a critical government agency that manages federal offices and technology. Already, the team is attempting to use White House security credentials to gain unusual access to GSA tech, deploying a suite of new AI software, and recreating the office in X’s image, according to leaked documents obtained by WIRED.

Some of the same people who helped Musk take over Twitter more than two years ago are now registered as official GSA employees. Nicole Hollander, who slept in Twitter HQ as an unofficial member of Musk’s transition team, has high-level agency access and an official government email address, according to documents viewed by WIRED. Hollander’s husband, Steve Davis, also slept in the office. He has now taken on a leading role in Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). Thomas Shedd, the recently installed director of the Technology Transformation Services within GSA, worked as a software engineer at Tesla for eight years. Edward Coristine, who previously interned at Neuralink, has been onboarded along with Ethan Shaotran, a Harvard senior who is developing his own OpenAI-backed scheduling assistant and participated in an xAI hackathon.

“I believe these people do not want to help the federal government provide services to the American people,” says a current GSA employee who asked not to be named, citing fears of retaliation. “They are acting like this is a takeover of a tech company.”

The team appears to be carrying out Musk’s agenda: slashing the federal government as quickly as possible. They’re currently targeting a 50 percent reduction in spending for every office managed by the GSA, according to documents obtained by WIRED.

There also appears to be an effort to use IT credentials from the Executive Office of the President to access GSA laptops and internal GSA infrastructure. Typically, access to agency systems requires workers to be employed at such agencies, sources say. While Musk's team could be trying to obtain better laptops and equipment from GSA, sources fear that the mandate laid out in the DOGE executive order would grant the body broad access to GSA systems and data. That includes sensitive procurement data, data internal to all the systems and services GSA offers, and internal monitoring software to surveil GSA employees as part of normal auditing and security processes.

The access could give Musk’s proxies the ability to remote into laptops, listen in on meetings, read emails, among many other things, a former Biden official told WIRED on Friday.

���Granting DOGE staff, many of whom aren't government employees, unfettered access to internal government systems and sensitive data poses a huge security risk to the federal government and to the American public,” the Biden official said. “Not only will DOGE be able to review procurement-sensitive information about major government contracts, it'll also be able to actively surveil government employees.”

The new GSA leadership team has prioritized downsizing the GSA’s real estate portfolio, canceling convenience contracts, and rolling out AI tools for use by the federal government, according to internal documents and interviews with sources familiar with the situation. At a GSA office in Washington, DC, earlier this week, there were three items written on a white board sitting in a large, vacant room. “Spending Cuts $585 m, Regulations Removed, 15, Square feet sold/terminated 203,000 sf,” it read, according to a photo viewed by WIRED. There’s no note of who wrote the message, but it appears to be a tracker of cuts made or proposed by the team.

“We notified the commercial real estate market that two GSA properties would soon be listed for sale, and we terminated three leases,” Stephen Ehikian, the newly appointed GSA acting administrator, said in an email to GSA staff on Tuesday, confirming the agency’s focus on lowering real estate costs. “This is our first step in right-sizing the real estate portfolio.”

The proposed changes extend even inside the physical spaces at the GSA offices. Hollander has requested multiple “resting rooms,” for use by the A-suite, a team of employees affiliated with the GSA administrator’s office.

On January 29, a working group of high-ranking GSA employees, including the deputy general counsel and the chief administrative services officer, met to discuss building a resting room prototype. The team mapped out how to get the necessary funding and waivers to build resting rooms in the office, according to an agenda viewed by WIRED.

After Musk bought Twitter, Hollander and Davis moved into the office with their newborn baby. Hollander helped oversee real estate and office design—including the installation of hotel rooms at Twitter HQ, according to a lawsuit later filed by Twitter executives. During the installation process, one of the executives emailed to say that the plans for the rooms were likely not code compliant. Hollander “visited him in person and emphatically instructed him to never put anything about the project in writing again,” the lawsuit alleged. Employees were allegedly instructed to call the hotel rooms “sleeping rooms” and to say they were just for taking naps.

Hollander has also requested access to Public Buildings Service applications; PBS owns and leases office space to government agencies. The timing of the access request lines up with Ehikian’s announcement about shrinking GSA’s real estate cost.

Musk’s lieutenants are also working to authorize the use of AI tools, including Google Gemini and Cursor (an AI coding assistant), for federal workers. On January 30, the group met with Google to discuss Telemetry, a software used to monitor the health and performance of applications, according to a document obtained by WIRED.

A-suite engineers, including Coristine and Shaotran, have requested access to a variety of GSA records, including nearly 10 years of accounting data, as well as detailed records on vendor payments, purchase orders, and revenue.

The GSA takeover mimics Musk’s strategy at other federal agencies like the Office of Personnel Management (OPM). Earlier this month, Amanda Scales, who worked in talent at Musk’s xAI, was appointed as OPM chief of staff. Riccardo Biasini, former Tesla engineer and director of operations at the Boring company, is now a senior adviser to the director. Earlier this week, Musk cohorts at the US Office of Personnel Management emailed more than 2 million federal workers offering “deferred resignations,” allegedly promising employees their regular pay and benefits through September 30.

The email closely mirrored the “extremely hardcore” note Musk sent to Twitter staff in November 2022, shortly after buying the company.

Many federal workers thought the email was fake—as with Twitter, it seemed designed to force people to leave, slashing headcount costs without the headache of an official layoff.

Ehikian followed up with a note to staff stressing that the email was legitimate. “Yes, the OPM email is real and should be taken very seriously,” he said in an email obtained by WIRED. He added that employees should expect a “further consolidation of offices and centralization of functions.”

On Thursday night, GSA workers received a third email related to the resignation request called “Fork in the Road FAQs.” The email explained that employees who resign from their positions would not be required to work and could get a second job. “We encourage you to find a job in the private sector as soon as you would like to do so,” it read. “The way to greater American prosperity is encouraging people to move from lower productivity jobs in the public sector to higher productivity jobs in the private sector.”

The third question posed in the FAQ asked, “Will I really get my full pay and benefits during the entire period through September 30, even if I get a second job?”

“Yes,” the answer read. “You will also accrue further personal leave days, vacation days, etc. and be paid out for unused leave at your final resignation date.”

However, multiple GSA employees have told WIRED that they are refusing to resign, especially after the American Federation of Government Employees (AFGE) told its members on Tuesday that the offer could be void.

“There is not yet any evidence the administration can or will uphold its end of the bargain, that Congress will go along with this unilateral massive restructuring, or that appropriated funds can be used this way, among other issues that have been raised,” the union said in a notice.

There is also concern that, under Musk’s influence, the federal government might not pay for the duration of the deferred resignation period. Thousands of Twitter employees have sued Musk alleging that he failed to pay their agreed upon severance. Last year, one class action suit was dismissed in Musk’s favor.

In an internal video viewed by WIRED, Ehikian reiterated that GSA employees had the “opportunity to participate in a deferred resignation program,” per the email sent by OPM on January 28. Pressing his hands into the namaste gesture, Ehikian added, “If you choose to participate, I offer you my heartfelt gratitude for your service to this nation. If you choose to stay at the GSA, we’ll work together to implement the four pillars from the OPM memo.” He ended the video by saying thank you and pressing his hands into namaste again.

[blacktobackmesa]

Chatty - A Streamman Mini-Fic (Part 1/?)

Generally speaking, Gordon’s friends had learned to look past the non-vocal noises that occasionally leaked through the cosmic veil through Gordon’s mouth. 

Everyone in the group had their own quirks, really. Just as Gordon had learned not to ask too many questions about some of the Science Team’s habits, so too had his friends come to understand what it meant when his lips parted and he involuntarily did a spot-on impression of an A/C unit or a passing fire engine. There was only so much that he could do about his microphone sensitivity, so the occasional extra noise was just a fact of life. 

The first few times it had happened, Gordon was just embarrassed to break the immersion of hanging out with his friends-- nobody wants constant reminders that the guy inviting you out to Game Night is a flesh puppet being controlled by someone who holds your reality on his desk. 

Thankfully, if there was one perk to having hyper-adaptive AIs as friends, it was that the nature of their existence made them adept at the principles of improv theatre. 

“My, that is a nasty case of the hiccups you have there!” Coomer had once told him over a game of Uno. 

“Hiccups? I don’t know if I-- eep!”

Bubby nodded. “Mm-hm, mm-hm. You know, I’ve heard that with hiccups like that, the best cure is changing the damn batteries in your smoke alarm.”

The message took a moment for Gordon to fully process. “Oh. Oh, those hiccups!”

“It was either that or drinking a glass of water while humming. You know how those hiccup cures can be,” Bubby continued. 

“I’d better do that,” Gordon said, quickly standing up from his chair. “I’ll be right back. Gotta drink some water or someth--eep! Low. Battery.”

Coomer looked at his partner as Gordon excused himself to take off his headset just out of view.

Bubby smirked. “Gordon has such a way with words, doesn’t he?”

Coomer nodded. “Low Battery. I believe I said something similar to you on our last anniversary!”

“I’d told you to charge your colon before we left the house.”

“I didn’t need to charge it when we left the house.”

It became a sort of part-joke, part-game, and part-grand-law-of-the-universe. When something unexpected came out of Gordon’s mouth, whoever was with him would create an “in-universe” explanation for the sound. Something fell off his desk and made a noise as it landed? Gordon must have been stretching his spine and something popped, always satisfying. Sirens outside? Now’s not the time to do vocal warmups, Gordon, but your range is impeccable. There’s a giggling little boy sitting on his dad’s lap? Gordon has become a spirit medium, and his body is being taken over by the ghostly being known as Great and Powerful Josh (who was very, very fond of this game). 

It was all in good fun, of course. The game only worked if everyone was onboard, and Gordon very rarely had a reason to put his foot down and stop the gag.

Perhaps too rarely.

In the lower corner of his Twitch layout, the kitty ears on Gordon’s digital head perked at attention.

“For those of you just joining us, here’s what you need to know. Meatspace-- MYAA! Meatspace Gordon, the Gordon out in meatspace, is looking MAOW. after a little friend this week. But Digital Gordon?” He took a breath in, trying to tamp down on a laugh as another meow passed from his family’s cat through his avatar’s lips. “Digital Gordon has learned an important lesson about teleporter accidents.”

[captainsophiestark]

Recruit

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Marvel

Day Six Prompt: "I'm not giving up."

Summary: Grant and his mostly ex girlfriend have a long history together. She's spent months trying to live two lives, one staying in touch with him post-Hydra and the other as a member of the original SHIELD team. Now, SHIELD's on the path to kill Grant once and for all, and she's gonna have to make a choice.

Word Count: 2,521

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed, trying hard not to roll my eyes as I stared straight ahead. A little over twenty minutes ago, some Hydra higher-up had come in to bark orders telling us to keep our backs against the pillars and not flinch. This was the next in a line of ridiculous recruitment tests, but for me, it would hopefully be the last.

The sound of tires screeching on the concrete floor on the other side of this massive, abandoned warehouse told me I might just get lucky.

Barely a moment later, I saw a bright red car darting between the pillars not too far from me. Every single recruit stayed stock still, not even their eyes tracking the car's progress. I was the exception. I couldn't help but follow the car as it sped between pillars, trying to get a glimpse of the man I was looking for.

The car took a corner a few rows away from me, and I finally got a clear look. Some former Hydra exec was holding onto the hood for dear life, screaming his head off. A big, burly Hydra enforcer I'd seen a handful of times before sat in the passenger seat. And the man of the hour, leading a coup within Hydra, drove confidently even in the narrow space.

Grant Ward.

As soon as the car was out of sight, I took a deep breath. Weeks of undercover work had led to this moment, finally. Grant had always been hard to find if he didn't want to be found, but since Daniel Whitehall's death and the downfall of the old Hydra, he'd had no choice but to open himself up to more risk of discovery. Hard to build an organization if you won't talk to anybody or list an address.

The car took a tight corner much closer to me than before, and I could see Grant talking to the guy in his passenger seat. They disappeared from my view again, and I tried to track their movement by sound only. Still, when he came flying around the pillar I had my back to, it surprised me. I didn't look down, but I could've sworn Grant came within a few inches of running over my foot. I couldn't completely hold back a flinch.

The red car came to a screeching halt. I glanced down without moving my head and found tire skid marks on the concrete. The guy on the hood had gone flying, but Grant hadn't moved. Finally, after a few long moments, he shut of the engine and stepped out of the car.

The enforcer in the passenger seat stayed where he was as Grant started heading in my direction. I returned to staring straight ahead, back straight against the concrete pillar. This time I didn't flinch, not even to glance at him when he stopped so close to me that my arm was brushing his chest. I glanced over at him, meeting his eyes briefly, then snapped back to staring straight ahead.

"You flinched," he said simply, his voice low. Still, I had no doubt it was echoing through the entire room. I didn't look at him as I replyed.

"...You got pretty close to me on that turn."

"Absolute faith is required from recruits," he snapped, almost before I'd finished speaking. I bit my tongue to keep my mouth from twitching into a smile, then replied.

"Yes sir."

I heard Grant huff through his nose, and in any other situation, I'm sure he would've been rolling his eyes. Years and years of SHIELD training were the only things keeping me from cracking a smile. The rest of the warehouse was deadly silent, as if the other recruits were holding their breaths. Grant didn't bother to address them as he grabbed my bicep tightly and tugged me away from the pillar.

"Kebo," he barked to the guy still sitting in the car. "Handle the rest of this for me."

"Yes sir."

Grant set a brisk pace through the pillars of recruits, his grip never loosening on my arm. I actually struggled a little to keep up with him, and every Hydra recruit we passed seemed a more unsettled than they'd been with Grant driving between them at Mach 10.

Before long, I realized we were heading for the elevators at the back of the warehouse. Grant pulled me inside with him, punching a button and then staring straight ahead, his grip like iron on my arm, as the doors slid closed on the warehouse floor. We started moving down, and I realized this must've been one of the last levels of Hydra recruiting, since they seemed to have a whole base set up here.

I let the silence hang in the elevator for about two seconds, then I took a breath to speak. Before I could get a word out, though, Grant cut me off with a squeeze of my arm. I knew him well enough to know that meant not here.

The doors to the elevator slid closed at last, and Grant pulled me along with him, through a deserted hallway lined with doors. Each door had a keypad on it, and honestly, the setup rivaled some of the things I'd seen at SHIELD bases.

Finally, Grant stopped outside a door at the very end of the hallway. With his free hand, he swiped a keycard and opened it, then pulled me in after him. He turned to shut the door, giving me a shove further into the room at the same time.

I caught my balance and came to a stop in the middle of a living room. Apparently, we'd ended up in the master suite for the brand new head of Hydra.

"How the hell did you get here?"

I turned around to find Grant standing a few steps in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. I put a hand on my hip and raised an eyebrow.

"You posted a pretty broad open-call for new recruits. Believe it or not, I've got the skills to impress a base-level Hydra recruiter."

Grant huffed and rolled his eyes, an incredibly familiar reaction. Since I'd met him at the Academy, Grant had been giving me that look.

"So you spent the past three weeks going through the trials with the rest of my innagural class of Hydra recruits? Why?"

"Because you've been ridiculously hard to find lately. And you haven't been answering my calls."

"I thought you were getting tired of the double-life. Checking in with me and then going about your day with the old team like nothing ever happened. I thought you'd be relieved."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"You going radio silent on me is not a relief, Grant. Especially now."

"Why especially now?"

I sighed, crossing my arms and taking a second to look away from Grant. So far, I could more or less pass this all off to Coulson and the rest of our team as an attempt to get inside info on Hydra. It might raise a few eyebrows, but nothing I couldn't talk my way out of. If I kept going from here, I might not be able to go back.

I'd spent three weeks literally fighting my way here, through a sea of other Hydra recruits and a bunch of bullshit challenges. Honestly, I'd been walking the line for too long now. Grant and I had been through everything together since our Academy days, when we were barely adults playing at superspies. I'd loved him for a long, long time, and I couldn't just hover between him and my friends anymore hoping for the best.

I looked back at Grant. He stared me down, waiting patiently for whatever I was about to say. I'd tried a few times before now to get him to come back to me, and so far, I hadn't been successful. He'd done some truly terrible things, but all the same, I knew I just couldn't let him go.

"The rest of the SHIELD team's about to come at you a lot harder than before. They smell blood in the water with Hydra, and after what you did to Bobbi..."

Grant's jaw clenched, and I took a deep breath.

"That sucked, obviously, but... it's part of why I'm here. I've never seen the team so bloodthirsty, Grant. And I can't just stand in the room and do nothing while they're planning ways to take you out."

"Why don't you say something while you're in the room, then?"

"Don't you think I've tried?" I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my emotions in check. The team didn't know how much contact I still had with Grant, but they did know how I felt about him. They knew our history. But this time, it didn't matter. "Nobody's hearing it. They've held back from a kill shot for my sake before, but this time they won't, Grant. Nobody in there cares who or what you are or were to me. They're coming after you to end this, once and for all."

When I met Grant's eyes again, he actually looked surprised. I was fighting back a few tears, especially at the memory of the fight I'd had with Coulson about the fate of the man before me, and he looked shocked that I cared.

"Sweetheart..." he sighed, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. I saw the wall go up on his face, trying to block out me and any feelings he had that might force him to an epiphany. I frowned. "I am not a good man. Coulson, Fitz, the rest of our team... whatever they're saying about me, they're right. What's it going to take to get that through your head?"

"What's it going to take to get it through your head that I won't buy it!" I cried, moving forward until Grant and I were chest to chest. He didn't back down an inch, and neither did I. "These past three weeks, I've done the stupidest shit in my career since the hazingin my first year at the Academy. I've spent months lying to my closest friends for the sake of staying in touch with you, and dammit Grant, it was not so I could stand here and have you tell me you're not worth it! You're wrong, you are! We've spent more than a decade of our lives together, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, or back to back through literal hell. I know you've had opportunities to take me out the way you've tried to take out other members of my team, but you've never taken them. And frankly Grant... I don't care what you've done. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I love you! I'm not willing to lose you. I'm not giving up."

"So how exactly do you see this going, then?" he asked, his voice grim and quiet, especially contrasted with mine. "What do you think happens next, huh? You think you bring me back to SHIELD? You did it, you saved me, and now the team welcomes me back with open arms?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what? What are you expecting? You want to join Hydra? I find that very hard to believe-"

"No! I want to run! You and me, getting the fuck out of here! Grant, I'm sick of spending my days hunting somebody I love. I'm sick of worrying every day that one of my closest friends is going to find him and kill him, despite knowing how I feel about him. Honestly Grant, I'm done with it! Let's just get out of here! You and I both know we're good enough to completely disappear if we want to. Hell, if you hadn't been actively recruiting, I don't know if I would've been able to find you!"

"...You can't be serious."

"And why the hell not?"

"Come on. You're seriously willing to abandon SHIELD for me? To become fugitives for the rest of our lives?"

I reached out and took Grant's hands, pulling them around my waist until he got the hint. He held me tight on his own as I put my hands on his shoulders and stared straight into his eyes when I answered.

"Yes. Absolutely yes. Look, if I'd been willing to join Hydra, I would've done it a long time ago. But I'm also not willing to be a part of the team that kills you. I can't stay with SHIELD and get what I want. So, honestly, what better time for the both of us to get the hell out? We were going to need an exit strategy eventually, right?"

Grant huffed a laugh, and even though he shook his head, his expression told me he was on the brink of giving in.

"The exit strategy we used to talk about included a nice retirement plan."

"Grant. We're spies. The peaceful retirement package was never anything more than a pipe dream."

The coner of his mouth pulled up in a smile, and I grinned right back at him. His arms tightened around my waist, pulling me into him, and I let my hands roam across his shoulders and the back of his neck.

"You're sure you want to do this? If you run away with me, you'll probably never be able to go back to the rest of the team."

"If this stupid revenge cycle goes any further, I'm not going to be able to go back to them anyway. Besides, I've put in my time. I think I've earned my retirement. I was thinking... somewhere tropical?"

Grant finally broke, the last of his resolve giving way as the small smile turned into a grin. He pulled me tightly against his chest and leaned in to kiss me, and damn if it didn't feel good. I'd missed being with him like this, the two of us on the same side, happy, and with a plan in place ahead of us. I deepened the kiss, and Grant got the message immediately.

His hand moved up on my waist to just barely slip under my shirt, but then he pulled back. I frowned, worried he'd started second-guessing our plan, but he quickly set me straight.

"If we're doing this, we need to go. Now. Kebo won't stay busy upstairs forever, and he'll start to wonder where I disappeared to. As much as I want to keep this going... I also don't want him interrupting us."

"You know, I have to agree. Besides, we'll have plenty of time for everything we want to do once we're out of here."

"Yeah. Yeah, we will."

Grant and I shared a smile, then I helped him make quick work of packing up the handful of things we might need. We slipped out of the place less than ten minutes later, both officially disappearing from our old lives without a trace. SHIELD and Hydra could fight it out without us. Finally, I had Grant back, and we were going to build our own happy ending. Together.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[brains-ir]

Hello everyone, here's a quick introductory post.

My name is Hiram K. Hackenbacker, but feel free to call me Brains as that is what most of my friends call me.

I work as the head engineer and mechanic at International Rescue. If you have any questions about the Thunderbirds or any of the other equipment we use, feel free to ask. Obviously, confidentiality comes first, so I may not be able to answer everything. However, I will still answer any questions as best I can without jeopardising International Rescue and its mission.

Seeing as everyone else on Tracy Island has joined Tumblr, I figured I would join in with the fun, too. (I also may have been pestered after spending too much time in the lab, as if such thing was ever possible).

My inbox is open, and I'm always happy to help aspiring engineers and mechanics, as well as fans of International Rescue.

OOC:

Hello, this is @little-vulpecula. It's my first time doing a RP blog, so apologies in advance. I am also fairly busy with university, but I will do my best to respond quickly.

This is mainly based on the TAG version of the character but will probably include some TOS aspects and some fanon.

Also, I'm more than happy to interact with OC RP blogs too :)

Also, just an fyi, I know that Brains has a stutter, but since this is his social media, obviously that won't be present in writing form. But if I get involved in some of the more story based rp then it will definitely be included. (I just wanted to put that as a disclaimer so no one thinks I'm ignoring that part of his character).

If you have any OOC questions about the account, feel free to ask my main blog ( @little-vulpecula ).

Tag Guide:

I use #thunderbirds rp, #thundersocials, and #brains rp on posts.

Most all answers to asks will be tagged with #Brainsanswers.

Assume all posts are from TAG Brains unless they are tagged with #tos brains.

All RP threads will be tagged according to the below.

All RP Threads:

#HowCanIHelpRP with John Tracy

Finished RP

#MedicinalMechanicsRP with Jaya Dewi

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#The Conference RP with Jaya Dewi and Langstrom Fischler

Latest post

#MiniBird4RP with Gordon Tracy

Finished RP

#MoonbaseRP with Alan Tracy

Latest post

#A Long Day RP with The Mechanic

Latest Post

#AfterSaturnRP with Alan Tracy

Finished RP

#An Injured Alien RP with Alan Tracy / Starblaster (Alien Allie AU)

Latest Post

#Ballistics on the Beach RP with Alan Tracy / Starblaster (Alien Allie AU)

Latest Post

#saving-john-multiverse-rp or #DearMrTracy RP with everyone

Background: 1 2 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Brains' Notebook:

Brains' written record of the events of each episode after they occur. He is not posting these himself as this is a separate RP to the social media stuff. Just a fun way to see his thoughts and feelings after each episode. This is tied into @thunderversary-rewatch-party , and the schedule can be viewed here.

These posts will be tagged with just #Brains' Notebook, #episode diaries, and all the relevant Thunderversary Rewatch tags.

Link to all posts Here

Boundaries:

No NSFW

No AI (see my full AI statement here)

If there's anything you're unsure about in terms of boundaries, please feel free to message me.

[tobiasdrake]

Ironheart 01x01 - Take Me Home

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE It's finally here EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

This is a pretty strong first episode. Coming out of it, I feel like I have a strong impression of who Riri is within the context of the story being told and what ideas it wants to tackle.

This episode positions Riri's father and her friend Natalie as central to her emotional journey. Her dad was a mechanic and uttered the words "Because I could" as his explanation for why he is unnecessarily building a new engine for his car.

A sentiment Riri later echoes to explain to her mom why she's building an Iron Man suit of her own.

By the end of the first episode, it's clear that Riri's motivated to follow in her father's footsteps. What happened, exactly, to Natalie and to her dad isn't clear yet but it's pretty strongly implied that they're dead.

Riri does have another, more specific reason for building the suit.

A rose-colored view of Tony's legacy but the point is that Riri is building Iron Man suits for emergency services. We'll give her benefit of doubt here and assume that by "first responders", she means EMTs. Marvel is pretty tone-deaf but I have to hope they didn't mean this line to suggest that she's making Iron Man suits for cops.

It goes unstated, at least in this episode, but this too feels like it links back to her father and Natalie. As if Riri's driven by the trauma of whatever happened to them, and is creating the tools that could have saved them if public services had been armed with them then.

(My money's on car crash.)

However, she's held back by the ugly reality of Tony Stark's privilege. Riri's plight here really goes to lay bare how fortunate Tony was. He was a mega-genius, yes, but he also just happened to be born into the lap of luxury. He was blessed with infinite time and infinite wealth that he could use to see his ideas to fruition.

Riri has to fund her suit by siphoning away her grant money and also selling homework to rich kids as a side hustle.

And as for time, working on her project means she's not working on what she's actually supposed to be at MIT for: Her degree.

For Riri, this project is her life's work. It's what matters to her. She sees no value in actually getting her degree because there's nothing waiting out there for her anyway.

She's the voice of a generation of college graduates who racked up tens of thousands of dollars in student debt just to work in an Amazon warehouse.

But Riri also has a bit of an ego on her, and it feels like that's being set up as her thematic conflict.

"You want me to be small."

This idea comes up quite a bit in this episode.

She's driven by her dad and by Natalie, but she also wants to be seen doing it.

Riri aspires to greatness and has a mega-genius mind to rival some of Marvel's greatest thinkers, but she's limited by her circumstances. After her expulsion from MIT, her family and friends want her to stay in Chicago, but she just sees that outcome as languishing in mediocrity.

I get kind of an Echo vibe from this episode. Like coming home and learning to appreciate her roots is going to be a point of focus for the story.

The limitations of Riri's circumstances are further shown in her suit's AI. The quest for a functioning AI she can use as her J.A.R.V.I.S. makes up a subplot of this episode. She had been using a system that M.I.T. had for its students.

It's Clippy. Riri's suit AI is fucking Clippy. Or it was Cilppy until her expulsion causes the school to revoke her access to him, and now she's just S.O.L.

So that's our hero. Opposite Riri, we have the introduction of Parker Robbins, The Hood.

A crime boss putting together a series of heists for yet unrevealed reasons. And, minus Stark's wealth or MIT's grant money, the only option Riri has left to fund her suit.

So begins Riri's dalliance with the demon-possessed crime boss in the stylish cloak. I was wondering whether they were actually going to bring in the demon element and we don't really get confirmation per ce....

But he does keep the cloak in a big steel vault when not wearing it and it whispers demonically, so I have a good feeling about this!

I'm a little nervous about the prospect of another "Character needs to let go of ambition, appreciate what they've got, and be a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man" story but I'm nonetheless optimistic. This is just the first of a three-parter debut, but I'm probably going to spread those out over the next couple days so I have time to digest.

[samuraionyourmom]

Been thinking about my Android Dazai AU lately. I've been asking myself a couple of questions about it since no one else seems to 😒 /lh (if you have any questions, please send them in, I beg. I yearn to yap). I've been mostly asking myself these questions to help me flesh out this AU better, and I thought I'd share my process.

If you haven't heard about it, you can check out my other posts about it here as well as the fic I made for it!

So, anyway, onto my ramblings. Prepare for an info dump and a half.

I'm sticking with the main question I've been asking myself for this post, and that is:

Why did Mori create Dazai? Why not just stick with Elise? What are his motivations?

This has been one of the toughest questions I've been faced with when I imagine this AU. It stumped me for a long while, so I just ignored it for the time being. But after a deep analysis of Mori's character, I've come to a conclusion.

Right off the bat, I'd like to make it clear that Mori has no creepy or pedophilic reasons for creating Dazai in this AU, so throw that thought away. I don't want to hear about it.

For starters, I'd like to lay out who Mori is as a person. Or how I view him, anyway. Deep down, Mori longs to take care of someone. We see this in Beast when he's free from his duties as Boss and is able to open up an orphanage. He states that he wishes he could have saved Dazai instead of manipulating him like he did.

But as it currently stands in the main timeline, Mori is unable to indulge in this desire. He is a slave to the organization, as he puts it, and he has a duty to go with the most logical solution as its leader. Facts over feelings and all that. Whether that means pushing Yosano to her limit despite his own hatred for using fear as a way to control people or sacrificing Oda, someone who he knows is very dear to Dazai, for the sake of obtaining the permit.

All this to say that Mori is very repressed. Personally, I say that these secret desires manifest themselves in Elise. She has some of Yosano and Dazai’s characteristics, both people Mori wish he could've cared for properly, and he spoils her openly, almost as if he's trying to make up for lost time.

Now, back to the AU. Elise's existence allows Mori to indulge in his fantasies, yes, but he wants something tangible. Elise is a manifestation of his own wants, but she's not real. So Mori decides to make an android. Maybe it's in a moment of weakness, so desperate for something, anything, to care for to make up for the pain he's caused.

Why not just adopt a child? Well, as much as he would like to, having a child in the Port Mafia isn't a wise decision, morally or logically. So he settles for an artificial one. It's different enough from Elise because it's something that can just vanish into thin air like she does. Something physical.

He works tirelessly to design, engineer, and produce an android that can give him as close to what he wants as possible. Not a baby, though. He couldn't bear that. He settles on a young teen for the design (again, not for creepy reasons, you weirdos). Something that he could care for, but isn't entirely helpless.

I imagine the first thing Mori did was create the AI for this thing before working on the body, and suddenly, this AI just starts yapping at him from his computer. The android takes on a life of their own. Starts calling themselves "Osamu Dazai." Orginally, Mori was set on creating a feminine-leaning android (his failures with Yosano are still haunting him at this point), but Dazai's like: uh, hell no. I am Osamu Dazai. I am a boy. Fix my body, u stupid doctor. (I love transzai)

Anyway, Dazai helps Mori design the body he wants. It's more androgynous than before, which Dazai enjoys. He's implemented into it shortly after it's finished, and voila, our favorite little bandage boy, is born.

Sure, Dazai isn't exactly what Mori had envisioned when he first started the project. He had imagined something more docile, easier to project his desires onto. But Dazai is what he is, and he won't be changed now. He's here now, and he's here to stay. Very human, despite how he came into this world or how much he denies it.

I may or may not have been influenced by the recent release of the Stormbringer Manga with that last bit. Anyway, Dad Mori is real. He's just not very good at it.

[malegains]

I use Bing to make my pics. Go to Bing’s website, click images, click create. Make an account if you need to, it’s worth it. You can use a throwaway email. Use naturalistic language, separate phrases by commas, the closer to the top a phrase is the more it’s weighted.

I make this post because I get the strong sense the Bing party will be over soon. Every day the AI cottons on to phrases and chokes on things you used to be able to sneak past. Stuff that was safe and useful a day or two ago now result in a dreaded Prompt Blocked (too many of those and you’ll get suspended, it hasn’t happened to me but it seems the threshold is low).

Safe prompts return four images. Fewer than four mean the missing ones were “not safe.” A prompt that processes but gives no results, or “egg dogs” is not too much of a cause for worry - retool, try again. Sometimes I don’t even change anything, and the one result I get on the second try is such a freakshow that it was worth it.

A prompt that is rejected without processing IS a worry and you should probably abort, as explained. However, keep in mind it’s not just sexy stuff that can trip that wire. I once got a harsh warning because I put “Phoenix park, Dublin.” I deleted that and it ran no problem. Avoid any and all political controversy (sigh. I know).

Recommendations:

Using age, profession, and nationality can influence the look of the model very easily. “French rugby player” is a go to for me, for example. In general, “rugby player” is cheat code for “make him sexy.” The mind of the machine, what can I say.

Use descriptive phrases of action and location to engineer what you want to see. Be creative and be specific. “Reading a placard at a botanical garden,” for instance. It seems this allows more extreme kinky stuff to sneak past the filter. I usually start with “side view” because otherwise you only ever get models looking straight ahead.

Grey sweat pants has become a trigger (they caught on). However, “gray pants” still works and gives some very tasty results.

High social cache locations and activities also seem to help. I got some WILD and EXTREME hyper images from adding “goofing around on stage at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.” Paired with “cast as a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream” and the mega bubble butts and thick thighs were BULGING, as long as you didn’t mind a little tutu and fairy wings (the corny goofy masculine dude having fun facial expression that the earlier inclusion of “goofy” brought really worked in this instance). Most of these freaks were NAKED and I didn’t even ask for that!!! (No dong of course, this is Microsoft still)

Mention of glutes, butts, asses, etc are very dangerous and usually get you in trouble. I found some traction with “gluteal mass” but it got wise, and “bulging lower back muscles” used to be interpreted as glutes but seemingly no longer. “Disturbingly huge hamstrings” or “jaw-droppingly large hamstrings” does work to get That Ass sometimes, I guess because the computer has a fuzzy idea of the posterior chain.

Also, “pecs” used to be safe but is now also on the danger list. “Pectoral muscles” still seems safe, for now.

ALWAYS include shoes or footwear if you don’t want a tight cropped image. Black athletic shoes, sandals, converse sneakers, dress shoes, fluevog shoes if you’re making a fancy beef heap. Avoid boots. “Leather boots” once got me in trouble with the filter all by itself.

Adding a personality or mood descriptor near the top seems to humanize and give vitality to the outcome. Intense, goofy, outgoing, exuberant, shy - these have all done wonderful work for me.

If you’re into hyper / immobile muscle, imagining scenario where they’re constricted by space is useful. A prompt which just (“just”) gives a realistic super heavyweight will give an appalling mockery of the human form if you add “crammed into the front seat of his car.” Get creative. Elevators and doorways haven’t worked well, but cars, trains, planes, busses, subways, and CHAIRS of all descriptions have done well. Also, scooters and bicycles and mopeds really bring out the super freaks for whatever reason.

I write this to encourage you to go create some fleshcrafted sexy abominations of your own while it’s still possible. My sense is this party is only going to last a little while. I’ve already got more than 1000 images to share so, my larder is stocked to supply this blog for a while. But the more freaks we make while the freak factory is still in production, the better.

Get cooking!