#Database Relationships

[interiorergonomics]

How online Office Systems use Laravel Eloquent Relationships

In an online office furniture system, handling data efficiently is crucial for managing products, orders, and customers. Using an ORM like Eloquent in Laravel simplifies database interactions by allowing developers to work with objects instead of raw SQL queries.

For example, retrieving all products in a category can be done with $category->products instead of writing complex SQL joins. This makes the code more readable, maintainable, and secure, reducing the risk of errors and SQL injection.

So, you can also leverage Eloquent powerful features, such as relationships and query builders, developers can build scalable and efficient applications while keeping the codebase clean and organized.

[pied-piper-pluto]

my thing is that I can buy Laios being open to having sex with someone but not him feeling romantic attraction. which, is not an outright barrier to shipping him with people, but does mean that most fanwork where he's shipped with someone activates my He Would Not Fucking Say That response

[weewoo911]

Me: I love to study! I wish I had more time for education!

Me studying:

[streetsrot]

HUMANS OF NIGHT CITY - CASSANDRA MONTEIL. aka important npcs to v's story, inspired by the official humans of night city posts ⸻ word count: 1k. tw: abuse, kidnapping, torture, drugs tldr; cass is v's wealthy corpo ex who betrayed her in a series of fucked up events that resulted in her kidnapping, torturing, and drugging v in order to save her own hide.

⸻

cass is v's ex-girlfriend, a legacy corpo who grew up being trained for the cutthroat, competitive chess board that is life when working for any major corporation. cassandra's parents are high level executives at militech, a position she herself now holds. she meets v when the both of them are in their late teens, in the late 2060s. with the unification war brewing and eventually reaching a peak, cass distances herself from her family, wanting to find her own path and break away from the corporate world she's known her whole life. she disavows corporations entirely and she has dreams of working as a media, focusing on boots-on-the-ground journalism. cassandra begins hanging out around mercs and though she sticks out like a sore thumb, she's charming enough that nobody questions it.

this is how she meets v.

the two of them hit it off after v saves cass's life during a regular shootout in heywood. accepting cass's offer to go out for drinks afterwards is one of v's biggest regrets in life. cassandra falls fast, in love with the idea of v and fascinated by the thrilling, high stakes lifestyle that she lives. v warms up to cassandra slowly, unable to shake the worry that anyone from a family like the monteils can't be trusted. every time her doubts come up, v reminds herself that cass has no contact with her family, and cass always seems to find a way to do something nice for v. she showers her in gifts, in loving affirmations, and she frequently makes little moves that fulfill v's desires for physical touch. before long, v is smitten.

their relationship is an intense one, filled almost entirely with soaring highs — an extended honeymoon phase that seems like it will never end. until cassandra messes with night corp. in her efforts to write a tell-all on the elusive, secretive corporation she finds herself wrapped up in a web of her own making and it's not long until night corp catches onto the fact that she's robbed them of restricted files. the corporation assumes she's done it to report back to militech. suddenly, her big break into journalism could be the destruction of a company that's already in the middle of a war, and should night corp work with arasaka, could mean the permanent end to militech's presence in night city. it would mean the brutal torture and execution of her parents and once night corp caught up to her, it would certainly mean worse for her.

out of options and unsure of what to do, she reaches out to her parents and explains the situation. cass, with the help of her mother, crafts a plan that ensures not just her and her family's survival but establishes her as the hero in the whole situation. she makes v, the unloved streetrat with no family, the fall guy. the story she spins states that v, an up and coming merc, stole from night corp in an attempt to hit the major leagues. cass caught word of it, reported the actions back to militech, who, in a show of good faith and as an olive branch during wartime, sent cass to retrieve the stolen materials from v in whatever manner she thought best. that way, they could be returned where they rightfully belonged.

not a word of her story is true.

cass drugs v, waiting for her to pass out and once she does, she slots a datashard into her that plants false memories so that when v awakens, she makes no attempt to deny what she's done. private solos retrieve v's body, throw her into a trunk of a car, and eventually restrain her in an undisclosed drop point. she comes to and finds herself bound and woozy, face to face with cass's mother who explains that "her daughter simply lied to get close to her". when cass arrives, v expects her to deny this. she never does. cass tells herself that she is doing this for her survival, for the survival of her family, and that, as much as she loved v, v likely would have ended up dead in an alley someday soon anyways. this way, she would be dying so another could live.

cass hands v over to night corp where she is interrogated and tortured for days on end. she never expects to see v again, and she assumes her dead as tensions are smoothed between militech and night corp. in reality, the corrupted data slotted into v's head is discovered by a night corp netrunner, tasked with traversing through v's memories. the data is wiped and soon after, v pieces together the truth of what's happened. in light of new knowledge, night corp strikes a deal with v: if she hacks into militech and wipes the copy of the files militech has surely made, she can walk free. but, if she is discovered in this operation, the corporation will claim v escaped from detainment and is acting of her own free will.

v is never caught. days later, a fire breaks out in cassandra monteil's japantown apartment. the rest of the apartment building remains untouched, but due to "mechanical failure", the sprinklers in the penthouse space are never triggered. all that's left in the apartment is a warning : if i ever see you again, i'll kill you myself.

in the year 2077, cassandra has followed in the footsteps of her parents; the end of her relationship with v denoting the end of her dreams as well. she has turned into everything a younger version of herself swore she would never be, but she excels tremendously as an elite corpo for militech and, because of this, looks back scornfully on her youth, scoffing at the idea that she had ever dared to dream of being something else.

v and cass have yet to directly cross paths again, though the chances are high. despite this, the events of her relationship with cass have left a mental scarring on v that she has never fully healed from. while she is by no means closed off to the idea of love or long-term relationships, she does have some trust issues that she hasn't realized are abnormal. v does not speak of cassandra or discuss the events that led to their separation unless she is extremely close with the individual she is speaking with.

[alterboyx]

@allofthepretty your miiiiinndddd

Folks what would yours be

You know what bugs me about soulmate aus? So, I’m assuming that this whole “the first thing your soulmate says to you blahblahblah” is a worldwide thing. So many of the aus I’ve read have a quote at some point that addresses how tragic it is when people have soul words that say something like “hi” or “‘sup” which makes NO SENSE! In a world where the first thing you say to people is THAT important, WHY GOD WHY would the culture still use standard greetings? Who the fuck is still saying hello at this point? Everyone in these worlds would surely develop a personalized greeting different from everybody else’s to prevent confusion. Like how no 2 racehorses can have the same racing name? The best part is that every time people met someone new for the first time, they would try to say something that no one else had said. You’d have people meeting eachother at a job intetview, they’d shake hands, smile politely, then one of them would be like “Every Tuesday, I hard even grape purple farm house sunsets too” and this would be perfectly normal. Or you’d go up to the cash register at Starbucks and instead of saying “Hello, what can i get for you today?” She’d look you right in the eye and say “I don’t know what Space Jam is” THEN ask you what you want and she’d repeat that to every customer in the line for the rest of her career. And because they live in the AU, nobody would think it was weird.

[robots-dream-of-eternal-rest]

[ DANG IT! I CAN'T HIDE BEHIND MY ANONYMOUS MASK! ]

[ Oh well, I guess. ]

[ What tricks do you have up your sleeves (if you have any) that help you with your objective? ]

A D0CUM3NT D3T4IL1NG MY C4P4B1L1TI3S 1S UND3RW4Y. PLE4S3 R3M4IN P4T1ENT.

[yappacadaver]

LETS GO PLAY VALORANT IM ABT TO EARN MY VERY FIRST KNIFE SKIN :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

[monsterblogging]

Links to Pacific Rim creator Travis Beacham's own posts on drift compatibility and drifting

Drift compatibility is psychological, not genetic

The better you know someone, the more likely you are to be drift compatible

Drift compatibility is potential, not fate

Drift compatibility can be a choice

Friendship is the foundation of drift compatibility

The drift requires trust

Trust is fundamental; also drift compatibility can be determined with anything that tests how well you can anticipate each others' moves

That even includes multiplayer video games

Many cadets wash out during Pons training when secrets come out in the drift and shatter their relationships

A lot of pilots get messed up by flinching over sexual thoughts

Trying to avoid thoughts just makes them worse

Not everything you see in the drift is always real; also the way to deal with thoughts is just let them flow by

Pilots communicate through "headspace"

Illustration of a conversation in headspace

First drifts can be very confusing, because partners don't understand each others' minds very well yet

The drift exposes pilots to each others' raw, unfiltered thoughts

Raleigh knew what Yancy was going to say

The drift doesn't let you read your partner's mind like a database, and you may not necessarily understand what you see. Also when Pentecost says he carries nothing into the drift he means he's calm and stable.

Pentecost gained this calmness through meditation

Trying to block your partner from your mind will make you lose control of the Jaeger

Pilots who fall below 90% sync will be in trouble

General information plus info on RABITs

You can chase your partner's RABIT

Another post confirming you can chase your partner's RABIT

More RABIT info

More general information

Travis Beacham defines ghost drifting

Partners' personalities can rub off on each other

Neural overload doesn't hit you all at once; it accumulates

The time a pilot can go solo varies, and it's a steep curve from fine to dead

More info on solo piloting

Being high in the drift probably makes it harder to avoid chasing the RABIT

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Absolutely love making god/divine characters that don't realize the ramifications of their actions

[velvet-milk]

──── everybody knows that i'm a good boy, officer...

❤︎──── pairing: dick grayson x officer!reader.

❤︎──── summary: ❛❛as the newest cop on blüdhaven’s force, you hated masked freaks. nightwing, the masked freak himself, wants nothing more than your delicious, sweet approval. and maybe your naked body.❞

WARNINGS. dick wants your pussy so much he looks fucking stupid. 18+, jerking off. authority kink on his part. he loves a hot woman in uniform. hints of sub nightwing. female reader. officer reader. ©velvet-milk.

❤︎──── The first time he saw you, he had just taken down two armed robbers outside a liquor store — easy work, nothing fancy. A normal friday night for him. Dick was still catching his breath, escrima sticks holstered, the night wind tugging at his suit as he turned toward the flashing lights of the approaching squad car.

He muttered something to Oracle about the cops in the area and cut his comms. The flashing lights bathed the street in red and blue, casting just enough glow to catch the look you gave him — bored, patronizing, and vaguely amused. But the moment the window rolled down, he got hit with your full pretty face. And rude tone.

"Sweetheart, I know times are hard and stuff, but soliciting’s still a crime in this part of town."

Nice.

Your partner let out a strangled noise beside you. She leaned toward you like she could physically stop the words from coming out of your mouth, but it was far, far too late. You didn’t flinch. Just blew a bubble with your gum and popped it. Dick glanced down at himself — the skintight suit, the very iconic symbol across his chest — then looked back up at you.

"I literally just stopped a robbery."

You shrugged, unimpressed. "Cool. And I just filed a report. We all have hobbies."

To his credit, Dick didn’t get mad. Just gave you this slow, stunned little laugh, like he wasn’t sure if he was offended or intrigued.

"Wow. And here I thought I had a decent relationship with the BHPD after all these years."

You smiled sweetly, razor-sharp. "Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against sex workers."

Your partner in the passenger seat looked like she wanted to crawl into the glove compartment. She pressed a hand to her face and whispered, horrified, "Oh my God… that’s Nightwing."

You didn’t even flinch.

"Night-who?" you said, glancing at her like she’d just made up a word. "Why would I know his stage name?"

She turned to you, pale. "He’s, like… famous. National superhero famous."

Yeah, he fucking was. Thank you very much.

He took one last look at you — still lounging behind the wheel, smirking like you hadn’t just verbally curb-stomped a national hero. The other cop couldn’t even meet his eyes. Poor woman looked like she wanted to dissolve into her seat from secondhand embarrassment.

"Have a good night, officer," he said, voice clipped but smooth.

Then he turned on his heel, tapped his comms. "Oracle, remind me to review Blüdhaven precinct relations tomorrow," he muttered, raising his escrima stick and firing the grapple line. "Preferably before I set myself on fire again."

The line snapped taut, and he vanished into the night sky.

❤︎──── Of course he kept tabs on you after that night. You called him a hooker, straight to his face, and somehow looked obscenely hot while doing it. What was he supposed to do after that? Move on?

He was a simple man. A simple man with a morally flexible sense of privacy and way too much access to high-end surveillance tech. At the moment, he had four tabs open on the BHPD’s internal database. When Babs and Tim asked, he muttered something about "tracking a person of interest in the department."

Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. You were very interesting. You had a sharp mouth, a mean stare, perfect lips, and the kind of tits that made even the Nightwing suit feel a little tight.

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, eyes fixed on your ID photo. "That’s the suspect. Definitely her."

He kept digging. It wasn’t enough to memorize your patrol schedule and ID badge, no, he had to go deeper. He found your Police Academy files. Graduated top of your class. Commendations in firearms, tactical response, and, of course, disciplinary reports for "insubordination" and "excessive sarcasm."

Then came your field test footage. Blurry body cam recordings. One of you talking down a suspect at gunpoint with zero backup. Another of you pinning a guy twice your size to the hood of a cruiser.

Very sexy of you, officer.

So he kept in close contact with the BHPD — closer than he needed to, if anyone was being honest about it. It had been years since Dick hung up the badge. But as Nightwing, he still had full access to department files, incident reports, internal memos, almost everything. All the tools of his former life, right at his fingertips.

And lately? He’d been using them for one very specific reason. You.

Every report you wrote, every arrest logged under your badge number, every disciplinary note with your name at the top, he read them all. More than once. It wasn’t intel gathering anymore. It was something else.

Something worse.

And you looked at him like he was a freak, every single time he showed up at a crime scene near your precinct. Last time, there was a body on the floor, half a dozen uniforms already securing the perimeter, and you crouched low, gloves on, examining blood spatter like it was just another tuesday. He tried to offer something helpful, something sharp, something detective-y.

You didn’t even look up.

"Sure thing, doll," you said, tone dry as bone. "Let me know if you wanna borrow a flashlight."

Then you stood, brushed past him, and kept working. He was still standing there ten seconds after you walked away, jaw tight, pride stinging, wondering what the hell was wrong with him that that turned him on. The dismissal. The uniform. The way your hips moved when you walked.

Jesus, he hadn’t been that hard in months.

Later that night he found himself alone in his apartment, right after patrol, hand wrapped tight around his cock, jerking off with embarrassing urgency to the mental image of your thighs straining against those uniform pants. He moaned softly, his thumb touching his leaking tip.

Dick could almost see it when he closed his eyes with a tiny whimper.

You, officer, climbing into his lap in the backseat of your cruiser, straddling him like you owned him. Belt undone, holster still strapped to your thigh. His hands cuffed behind him, helpless to do anything but take it.

You’d ride him so fucking hard, your pretty little pussy gripping him tight, warm and soaked around his cock. One hand tangled in his black hair, yanking when he got too mouthy, the other braced against the fogged-up glass of the squad car window as your hips slammed down, again and again, using him like he was yours.

He’d choke on a groan, eyes rolling back, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, because you wouldn’t let him finish until you were done. Until you were shaking on top of him, breathless and spent, nails dragging down his chest.

He came faster than he wanted to. Pathetic, really. He groaned your name like a fucking prayer, teeth sunk into his own wrist to keep quiet, while hot, messy cum spilled over his fist, his stomach, his shirt — hips jerking up off the mattress, desperate for more.

Desperate for you.

He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh, hands still sticky with his own cum like some desperate, horny teenager who’d never even touched a woman.

What the hell had you done to him, officer?

[norristrii]

LOVING YOU THE LOUDEST (or the quietest).

IN WHICH… who’s the yapper and who’s the listener in your relationship.

featuring. Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, Charles Leclerc & Lewis Hamilton.

warnings. established relationship, fluff, 1k words.

LANDO NORRIS: yapper! bf x yapper! gf

You and Lando are so loud—like, Zak can hear you two entering the paddock from inside the McLaren garage. There’s never a quiet moment; you’re always yelling, play fighting, making sure the whole world knows you’ve arrived. Whether it's racing each other to the hospitality suite or cracking jokes that only the two of you find funny, the energy is always off the charts.

The paddock has learned that silence, when it comes to you two, is a rare and deeply suspicious. If you ever stop yelling, teasing, or causing a general ruckus for more than a few minutes, panic spreads. Engineers glance at each other nervously. The media starts speculating. Mechanics whisper, “Something's off. They’re too quiet.”

You two are incapable of behaving normally. The moment your eyes meet, it’s instant mischief—grinning like you’re plotting something, pulling faces, throwing middle fingers at each other like it’s a competition. There’s never a dull moment.

And then there’s Lando, who has absolutely no volume control. One second, he’s shouting across the paddock, “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!” like he’s narrating a rom-com, making everyone turn their heads in confusion. The next, he’s randomly singing, mumbling nonsense, or repeating the same word over and over just because the silence between you two felt too unnatural.

There is no peace. There is no quiet. Just pure, uncontrollable chaos.

MAX VERSTAPPEN: yapper! gf x listener! bf

Max is an exceptional listener. No matter how much you talk, ramble, or go off on tangents, there’s never a moment where he makes you feel like it’s too much. He listens—fully present, fully engaged, as if every word genuinely matters to him.

But when it comes to racing, his team, his car, and strategy? That’s when the roles reverse. Suddenly, he’s the one talking nonstop—analyzing every detail, breaking down scenarios, venting frustrations, sharing insights that only someone who lives and breathes racing would notice. And sometimes, out of nowhere, he’ll drop some random fact, something entirely unrelated—just because he thought you’d find it interesting.

And then, there’s the real sign—the way he talks to you. It’s in the way his voice softens just slightly when he’s telling you something important, the way his tone shifts when the conversation is just between the two of you. It’s not loud, or dramatic—it’s quiet, effortless, genuine.

And the most telling part? He remembers everything. If someone casually asks, “Hey Max, what allergies does she have?” he answers immediately, without hesitation. Because he’s the kind of person who doesn’t just listen—he keeps everything, as if every detail about you is worth remembering.

OSCAR PIASTRI: yapper! gf x listener! bf

Oscar being the best listener? Obviously. It’s almost a personality trait at this point. He’s calm—sometimes too calm.

Like when you see a spider in the bathroom. You scream, panic, throw yourself into his arms like it’s a life-or-death situation. And him? Completely unfazed. Just a shrug, a sigh, and a casual walk toward the spider like it’s his daily routine. One swift motion, problem solved, no reaction. Meanwhile, you’re still recovering from the emotional rollercoaster.

But beyond the calm, beyond the spider-killing efficiency, there’s the real Oscar—the one who remembers everything. Your favorite color? Locked in. The exact way you like your coffee? Stored in the database. The specific meal you order at McDonald’s, every single time? He could recite it by heart.

And then, there’s racing—the one place where you’re the loudest voice in the room, the one he always hears. Your cheers cut through everything—through the noise, the crowd, the chaos—and he loves it. Loves how you talk his ear off about things, loves that you fill the silence in his head with you.

He might be quiet. He might not always say much. But if there’s one thing you can count on—he’s always listening.

CARLOS SAINZ: listener! gf x listener/yapper! bf

Carlos is the perfect balance—the rare type who can sit back and absorb everything or take charge of a conversation when needed. Some people are either talkers or listeners, stuck on one side of the spectrum. Not him. He can listen to you for hours, days even, never making you feel like you’re saying too much. He’s the kind of person who actually hears what you’re saying—not just nodding along, but really listening, remembering, understanding.

But flip the switch, and suddenly, he’s the yapper—especially when he’s passionate about something. He can break down races, debate strategies, or go on a tangent about a completely random topic, and you’d sit there listening just as easily. The flow of conversation with him never feels forced—it just happens naturally, like a perfect back-and-forth rhythm where neither of you ever feel the need to hold back.

And that’s the magic of Carlos Sainz. He listens when you need him to, and talks when it’s his turn—effortless, balanced, and always present.

CHARLES LECLERC: listener! gf x yapper! bf

Charles is such a yapper—but in the best way possible. He can jump from deep, philosophical conversations to completely random thoughts like, “Why is the sky blue instead of green?” And somehow, both feel equally important when he’s talking.

And the best part? You love listening to him. Whether he’s ranting about something serious, sharing his dreams, or just going off on one of his endless thought spirals, his energy makes every conversation captivating.

And then, there’s the fact that he talks about you—to Lewis, to the team, probably to anyone who will listen. Your date? He gives Lewis the full breakdown. Something funny you did? He’s sharing it like it’s the highlight of his week. He just loves talking about you, like every little thing is worth mentioning.

He’s the kind of person who could talk forever, and you’d never want him to stop.

LEWIS HAMILTON: listener! gf x yapper! bf

Lewis is one of those undercover yappers—people assume he’s more reserved, but once he gets going, he does not stop. He’s got opinions, insights, stories, and he’s not afraid to share them.

Silence? Not really his thing. He fills every gap with conversation—whether it’s about sports, fashion, music, racing, life, or even deep philosophical thoughts. He thrives on discussion, on exchanging ideas, on turning even the smallest detail into an interesting conversation.

And with you? Oh, he talks even more. He knows you’ll listen, knows he can tell you anything—whether it’s breaking down a race weekend, analyzing the latest streetwear trends, or just casually debating something completely random. He’s effortlessly engaging, effortlessly present, always keeping the conversation flowing.

So yes, Lewis is a yapper. Not the loudest in the room, not the most obvious—but the kind who, once he starts, pulls you into his world, word by word, thought by thought, until you never want him to stop.

© norristrii 2025

babsie radio ! My first fic that includes grid…quick headcanons as I’m trying to finish fuckboy! lando… I love doing these short headcanons, and there’s definitely coming in the futuree!! I’ll do separated masterlist for the grid<33

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, the GCPD and the Batfamily having a dysfunctional working relationship would be hilarious. Like, the cops know they need the Bats to help keep Gotham’s streets clean, but man, they are fucking troublemakers.

Take Dick, for example. He’s already naturally at home in a police station, so he’ll regularly waltz into GCPD headquarters to give pointers on cases, act as a translator, and will occasionally bring donuts for the night officers. But he’s also been trying to get them to unionize since 2009 and will also unabashedly steal things from the evidence locker. (He always returns it, usually with the adjacent case completed, but it’s a lot of red tape and that’s very annoying.) He also fucks up the coffee machine every time he uses it.

As for Jason… On one hand he is excellent at tracking down perps that have escaped custody or gone to ground. It’s not uncommon for him to pull up with a van full of criminals on the wanted list, which is great… expect for the fact that Jason is also on the wanted list. So whenever he shows up the GCPD cops have to put in effort (minimal as it may be) to try and “capture” the Red Hood so that they don’t get audited by Homeland Security. So now like once a month they have to chase the Red Hood across Gotham proper, because he handed the Penguin into their custody or something, and they have to look good for their bosses—it’s a waste of resources and really fucking annoying, but, hey, they got the Penguin?

Surprisingly, Tim and Stephanie are the most frequent visitors of the GCPD—and they are also the most dreaded. Because Tim is a plucky little know-it-all, but also he can and will update their entire database in a single night and will, at random, solve a cold case they’ve been sitting on for 20 years. The problem is that he’s just fucking annoying about it, and every other week he’ll break into the vending machine to steal the energy drinks—that shit is impossible to get replaced. And Steph? She’ll talk the ears off the night shift and get everyone off task, because they’re busy gossiping about the accounting department in the Manor’s office and planning a prank war on the fire department.

You would think Cassandra would be everyone’s favorite because she’s quiet and much less destructive then her siblings, but you’d be wrong—Cassandra is an absolute menace and the night shift workers have spent years trying to prove it. She will sneak up behind people, leave random pebbles in people’s shoes, and will put googly eyes on anything she touches. The day shift thinks the night officers need to chill because, “isn’t she the chill one?” (No. No she is not. None of the Bats are chill.)

And then there’s Damian. As Robin, the closest he usually gets to the GCPD is through Batman, via his consultations with Commissioner Gordon. But on the rare occasions he’s permitted inside the GCPD, he is dotted on extensively by the officers. He’s deadly and abrasive but they love him. They give him candy and head pats and let him use the sketch-artist supplies to do drawings, which they religiously pin to the break room refrigerator. Damian will pretend to despise this despite the fact that he so clearly loves it.

Lastly, there’s Duke. As the only day shifter, he’s widely considered to be the most well adjusted and relatable Bat. Half a year into his tenure as Signal, he’s on a first name basis with half the GCPD, has his own locker and fridge space for his lunchbox, a coffee mug with his logo on it is kept in the break room, and he’s already been nominated for Employee of the Year despite the fact that he does not actually work for the GCPD. The night shift refuses to accept that he is real.

[soon-palestine]

𝗨.𝗦. 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗧 𝗖𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗛 𝗚𝗜𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗢 𝗔𝗕𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗦

Not guilty.

That's the verdict of a US federal appeals court in a case involving five tech companies accused of benefitting from child labour in Congolese mines. On 5th March, 2024, the US Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia made a 3-0 decision in favour of (Google’s parent company) Alphabet, Microsoft, Dell, Tesla and Apple Inc. in a case filed by 16 former Congolese child miners and their guardians.

The plaintiffs accused the companies of "deliberately obscuring" their dependence on child labour, in effect abetting the exploitation of many children to ensure steady supplies of cobalt. Some of the complainants were the guardians of children who’d been killed in cobalt-mining operations.

The court ruled that buying cobalt in the global supply chain did not amount to "participation in a venture," and there was no proof that the tech giants had anything more than a buyer-seller relationship with suppliers or had the power to stop the use of child labour.

Cobalt is in high demand as competition for market leadership in Electric Vehicle sales kicks into high gear. Nearly two-thirds of the world's cobalt is mined in DR Congo. The country has 2-million artisanal miners working under horrible conditions, according to DelveDatabase, an online database. Four critical minerals - copper, nickel, cobalt and lithium - will generate $16 trillion in the next 25 years, according to the IMF.

DR Congo's vast wealth is the key reason for the country's long history of exploitation and conflict - from Belgian King Leopold II running the country as his private estate to Western tech firms churning out high-end goods using Congolese minerals.

Help raise awareness of the exploitation of Congolese children by sharing this video widely.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Early Morning

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky helps you after a nightmare.

Disclaimer: Mostly smut with plot. MDNI 18+. Fluff, a little angst, Reader is an ex winter soldier experiment, too. Flashbacks to reader meeting Bucky (not the WS). Swearing, unprotected P-in-V (wrap it up), established relationship, caring Bucky, mentions of nightmares, Bucky holds/cuddles reader. Not proof read. Again, 18+.

Your breathing laboured, you shot up in bed. 

There was next to no light inside the room, but you could still make out the pile of clothes thrown over the back of your desk chair wasn’t a monster haunting your room. 

Then you felt a hand at the bottom of your back. For a moment, you jumped before you realised who the hand belonged to. 

“You okay?”

You scrubbed your face and nodded. Then he slowly sat up with you. His hands rubbing your back before his lips tiredly kissed your shoulders. He leaned against you, his cheek pressing his lingering kiss deeper into your skin. 

“Talk to me. What happened?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

You could only nod. 

“Tell me?”

“Same as usual.” 

Your voice came out quiet, an invisible heavy weight pushing your shoulders down. 

You’d been found by Bucky and Sam almost five years ago. Having been one of the last people to be put through a Winter Soldier, you were one of the few to survive. And you’d been surviving alone until that day in the abandoned factory. 

From there, you had been put through some more trials. From being locked up in a ‘comfortable’ cell, realising just who Bucky was and when you’d met him before to going through new training that meant you were becoming a new Shield Agent. 

And somewhere in the last five years, you and Bucky had found common ground and eventually a friendship that had bloomed into something more. 

“Come here.” 

Rubbing one of his hands up and down your back, he gently led you to lie back down beside him. He held you close to him, his grip tightening around you. You felt his legs slot and tangle between yours before his lips pressed against your head. 

With his hand skating across your thigh, he pulled you over his hip before letting his fingers push under the back of your top to let his fingers trace up and down your spine. 

Within seconds, your senses were consumed by him. 

Bucky felt you take in a deep breath before you finally relaxed in his arms. 

“Feeling better?”

You nodded with a little hum. “‘Little.”

Bucky just held you tighter. 

By the time you woke back up again, your position hadn’t changed much save for the fact that your back was now against Bucky’s chest. 

You could feel his breath, even and soft against your back, calming you even more. 

There have been times where you’d let your mind wander. What if you had met Bucky, as he was now, under different circumstances? Maybe you’d gone to MIT, or Harvard or one of those places before joining Shield. Maybe you would have bumped into him in the lunch line, or in the hallway. Maybe he would have asked you on a date, or maybe you would have asked it. 

Maybe it would have been conventional. 

Unlike how you’d come to meet this version of Bucky. 

“Do you think she remembers you?”

You just stared at the ceiling inside the cell you’d been placed in. They’d given you a mattress and blankets for the slick metal bed, but you’d pulled them to the ground before you laid down, letting the cold metal cool you down. 

Sam and Bucky had been standing on the other side of the reflective glass, talking to each other. They were yet to know you could hear every word they were saying despite the speakers being disconnected. 

“Sargent Jame Buchannan Barnes of the 107th.”  You’d said his name slowly, almost repeating it as if you’d been saying it your entire life. 

Eventually, Sam left once you gave them your name. As he went to search through every database he could think of, Bucky stayed and turned the reflective screen off. You’d walked over calmly, answering every question he had. 

Did you remember him? 

“I remember you from…before.”

Where did you come from?

“Winter Soldier programme. I woke up somewhere in Europe. I just kept walking until I recognised a name.”

And where did you come from…before?

You told him everything he wanted to know. You’d spent so long keeping secrets, seeing where the world was going…

Anything was better than being sent back into the Winter Soldier programme. And if Bucky could get out, then so could you. 

After going through more tests than you could count, having more needles pricked into your skin than you’d like, and after extensive psych-evals from multiple different professionals, you were cleared to work. 

Under strict supervision. 

And that came from both Shield and Bucky. He’d been in the programme himself, so he knew what to look for when things got bad. For a few of the appointments where he’d watched through the glass, seeing the hidden pain on your face as the fortieth test was done on your blood, he entered the room and held onto your hand. 

During training hours when he could see the memories flooding back when you pushed yourself a little too far, he would tap you out and make you walk around the building with him. He never had to say anything. Just knowing someone was there was enough for you. 

Eventually, those silent moments added up to small and trusting conversations. Then one day, things began to change. You talked more, felt happier more often, found not only friends but family. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Slowly, you turned over and looked at Bucky. 

“Better.”

You felt Bucky’s lift softly brush a kiss over your nose before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. He felt your hand cup his cheek, keeping his lips kissing yours for a little longer. 

“I love you.”

Bucky smiled, kissing you again. “I love you, too.”

Leaning back in again, he pressed a soft kiss onto your lips. But you didn’t want it to end. There was just something about Bucky’s kiss. The way his lips pressed against yours, as if he’d been kissing you his entire life. 

And it had been that way since the first time he kissed you. 

You’d both spent the entire day in the training room since it had been the first place Kate had looked for both of you to help train the new recruits from Shield. The last time she’d asked you both for help, you were both left stranded and swore an oath to each other that you’d never do it again. 

So, rather than run around the entire compound all day, you remained in the one place Kate wouldn’t look again. 

But instead of pushing yourselves to the limits, you both had fun. 

Sparring with each other, you both laughed. Falling to the ground, talking, laughing, reminiscing, planning. You often spent time like that, together. But you both never got a chance to simply have fun. 

But it was as you were lying underneath him, wondering what would happen if you pulled at his dog tags in those moments and finally answered your year long question; what would it feel like if he kissed you?

The door just outside of the training room creaked open. 

Scampering to your feet, Bucky grabbed your hand and you both raced out of the back exit. 

However, as you heard the doors creak again, you pulled Bucky around a corner. And once everything fell silent, only then did you both realise the position you were in. His knee wedged between your legs, his hands caging you in by your hips and your hands fisting his t-shirt. 

Between hitched breaths and pounding hearts, Bucky kissed you. 

Neither of you had expected it and when the kiss broke in order for both of you to catch your breath, it was safe to say you were both surprised. 

But as the shock faded away, being replaced by a desperate desire to feel his kiss on your lips again, his hands became tousled in your hair as you pulled him closer by his dog tags. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathed before he moved to kiss you again. 

And that’s what it was still like. 

Bucky’s hands ghosted down your body before pulling your leg over his hip. Surprising him, you pushed yourself up until you were straddling his thighs. Like he’d done a thousand times before, he pulled your top from your body and over your head before throwing it across the room. His hands held you closer, feeling your skin against his chest. 

Feeling his bulge grow beneath you, you rocked your hips over him. His grip on you tightened as he groaned. 

“Holy fuck,” his voice was gravelly as he moved his lips from yours to the softness of your neck. “Baby-”

With his fingers squeezing your flesh softly, his hand moved from under your ass to the front of your body before dipping under the waistband of your shorts. 

“So wet already-” 

His teeth scraped lightly at your pulse point, no doubt eventually leaving a hickey you’d find in a few hours. 

A moan became muffled against his lips as you bucked your hips against his hand. Then his fingers began to steadily circle your clit. 

You gasped. “Keep - keep going.” You closed your eyes as you leaned your head against his. “Fuck.”

“Always,” Bucky nipped at your jaw. “So,” nip. “Ready,” nip. “For me.”

You gasped again, and Bucky smiled as he watched the shock and pleasure take over your body and face as he inserted two fingers, curling them inside of you. 

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Bucky slurred as he watched you. 

It wasn’t long until your own fingers drifted down his front, palming his dick through the cloth of his underwear until finally letting him free from the restriction. 

By the time the tip of his cock was strumming through your juices, your legs had already begun to shake. 

“Bucky, please.”

“Always so polite,” Bucky teased before once again watching your face as you took him in. 

You felt your back arch as his cock stretched you and his hand pushed up your front. His thumb flicking at your nipple before he took you into his mouth for a moment, you moaned his name. 

“So fucking hot…”

Having been the Winter Soldier, Bucky could never get drunk. But he was drunk on you. 

“Fuck, doll.” Bucky moaned into your neck as his hand squeezed at your ass, holding you down on him. “‘Feels so fucking..good…fuck.”

Teasing him a little, you began drawing lazy circles with your hips. Your shared breath became ragged as your skin took on a light sheen just as Bucky’s tongue traces lines across your collarbone. 

Finding your weak spot, he began to suck. 

He could feel your hand in his hair, your nails raking on his scalp. 

Eventually the noises went from sensual to down right animalistic. Begging and pleading before finally, with his fingers applying a delicious pressure onto your clit, Bucky felt your walls tighten around his cock as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

Breathless, you felt yourself smile as you leaned down towards his ear. “I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Baby-”

“Please, Buck.”

He didn’t need to be asked again. With his fingers teasing your overstimulated clit, you felt Bucky finally cum inside of you. It wasn’t often you had him go without protection, so it was rare you ever got to feel him. 

A shower and two hours later, you were both sitting eating breakfast at the table in the kitchen. “You wanna talk about last night?”

You shrugged, pushing the blueberries around on your plate. “Not much has changed. Still trapped inside my own body, still hurting people.”

“How long has it been since the last one?”

One thing about your nightmares was that it was rare to become a night terror. You didn’t exactly wake up screaming and panting for breath. But sometimes, the silent ones were the worst kind. Because they continued to play on your mind. So vivid and so real.  

“Couple of months,” you told him, truthfully. 

“Sam text this morning. Said he’s gonna come round later. Apparently he wants to test Red Wing’s new features out on the back fields.”

“And you said yes?” You asked, hiding your smile. You knew your boyfriend’s reputation with Red Wing. They weren’t exactly the best of friends. 

“I think maybe you should talk with Sam.”

You nodded. “I will.”

You’d been given qualified doctors over the years and a lot of them had helped. But sometimes the best person to talk to was someone who knew what you were going through. And, as much as Bucky knew what you were going through; the one person who helped get through to him was Sam. 

Bucky watched you for a few moments before he reached over and hooked his hand under the edge of your chair. “Come here,” he said as he pulled you closer. 

You could feel yourself blush with a little giddiness as he pulled you closer to him across the table before his hand rested on your bare thigh. 

Then he kissed you. 

“I love you,” he told you. 

“I love you, too,” you replied. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

I was listening to cell block tango and it made me think of Danny's ex

Danny: I loved Bruce more than I could possibly say, he was a real empathic guy, sensitive, a hero

He left me to "go find himself" and on the way he found Talia, Selina,Harvey, Clark, Vikie, Julie,Diana,Sasha,Rachel,Jezebel,Charlotte, Mallory,Vesper,Chase-

Bruce: Danny I-

Danny: I'm not done you sluty whore! -Linada,Dinha,Oliver,Silver,Natalia, Amina,April,Bekka,Jaina,Hal,Dawn,Lorna,Jillian, Shondra,Zatana,Andrea,Jhon,Natalya,Bethanie, Barry,Arthur...

(Thank you DC database for the list of batman's love interest and this beautiful quote:"[..]Batman's unwillingness or inability to maintain a relationship longer than the Batmobile's paint job.")

I ADORE THIS! I love how you fit the lyrics and I swear I heard it being sung in my head.

Danny is the embodiment of this song. Bruce's side of the story is very complicated (and if I write it correctly, hopefully justifiable), but he did, in fact, find comfort in many different arms afterwards.