#Program Aided Prompting

[epicstoriestime]

Advanced AI Prompt Engineering

Unlock the True Power of AI with Advanced AI Prompt Engineering Your Ultimate Handbook to Smarter, Sharper, and More Strategic AI Prompts If you’re still throwing simple prompts at AI and hoping for magic, you’re only scratching the surface. The real breakthroughs — the real wow moments — happen when you learn how to engineer prompts that think, reason, and build like a genius. That’s why I…

[lookwhatyoumademelou]

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[leveragehunters]

CoPilot in MS Word

I opened Word yesterday to discover that it now contains CoPilot. It follows you as you type and if you have a personal Microsoft 365 account, you can't turn it off. You will be given 60 AI credits per month and you can't opt out of it.

The only way to banish it is to revert to an earlier version of Office. There is lot of conflicting information and overly complex guides out there, so I thought I'd share the simplest way I found.

How to revert back to an old version of Office that does not have CoPilot

This is fairly simple, thankfully, presuming everything is in the default locations. If not you'll need to adjust the below for where you have things saved.

Click the Windows Button and S to bring up the search box, then type cmd. It will bring up the command prompt as an option. Run it as an administrator.

Paste this into the box at the cursor: cd "\Program Files\Common Files\microsoft shared\ClickToRun"

Hit Enter

Then paste this into the box at the cursor: officec2rclient.exe /update user updatetoversion=16.0.17726.20160

Hit enter and wait while it downloads and installs.

VERY IMPORTANT. Once it's done, open Word, go to File, Account (bottom left), and you'll see a box on the right that says Microsoft 365 updates. Click the box and change the drop down to Disable Updates.

This will roll you back to build 17726.20160, from July 2024, which does not have CoPilot, and prevent it from being installed.

If you want a different build, you can see them all listed here. You will need to change the 17726.20160 at step 4 to whatever build number you want.

This is not a perfect fix, because while it removes CoPilot, it also stops you receiving security updates and bug fixes.

Switching from Office to LibreOffice

At this point, I'm giving up on Microsoft Office/Word. After trying a few different options, I've switched to LibreOffice.

You can download it here for free: https://www.libreoffice.org/

If you like the look of Word, these tutorials show you how to get that look:

www.howtogeek.com/788591/how-to-make-libreoffice-look-like-microsoft-office/

www.debugpoint.com/libreoffice-like-microsoft-office/

If you've been using Word for awhile, chances are you have a significant custom dictionary. You can add it to LibreOffice following these steps.

First, get your dictionary from Microsoft

Go to Manage your Microsoft 365 account: account.microsoft.com.

One you're logged in, scroll down to Privacy, click it and go to the Privacy dashboard.

Scroll down to Spelling and Text. Click into it and scroll past all the words to download your custom dictionary. It will save it as a CSV file.

Open the file you just downloaded and copy the words.

Open Notepad and paste in the words. Save it as a text file and give it a meaningful name (I went with FromWord).

Next, add it to LibreOffice

Open LibreOffice.

Go to Tools in the menu bar, then Options. It will open a new window.

Find Languages and Locales in the left menu, click it, then click on Writing aids.

You'll see User-defined dictionaries. Click New to the right of the box and give it a meaningful name (mine is FromWord).

Hit Apply, then Okay, then exit LibreOffice.

Open Windows Explorer and go to C:\Users\[YourUserName]\AppData\Roaming\LibreOffice\4\user\wordbook and you will see the new dictionary you created. (If you can't see the AppData folder, you will need to show hidden files by ticking the box in the View menu.)

Open it in Notepad by right clicking and choosing 'open with', then pick Notepad from the options.

Open the text file you created at step 5 in 'get your dictionary from Microsoft', copy the words and paste them into your new custom dictionary UNDER the dotted line.

Save and close.

Reopen LibreOffice. Go to Tools, Options, Languages and Locales, Writing aids and make sure the box next to the new dictionary is ticked.

If you use LIbreOffice on multiple machines, you'll need to do this for each machine.

Please note: this worked for me. If it doesn't work for you, check you've followed each step correctly, and try restarting your computer. If it still doesn't work, I can't provide tech support (sorry).

[beardedmrbean]

Several prominent pro-Israel social media accounts have accused “60 Minutes” host Lesley Stahl of being sympathetic to Hamas terrorists following a Sunday night interview she conducted with a hostage recently released by the militant group.

Stahl asked Hamas hostage Keith Siegel whether his captors starved him on purpose or because they didn’t have enough food to give him.

During the CBS News program, she spoke to several hostages who had recently been freed from the terror group’s clutches and returned to their families. Stahl spoke to Siegel, along with Tal Shalom and Yarden Bibas — the man whose wife and two young children were murdered while in captivity — learning details about their horrific experiences living in Hamas-controlled tunnels in Gaza.

While Siegel discussed how his captors treated him, he stated that after his wife, Aviva, was released from captivity, Hamas became “very mean and very cruel and violent.”

“They were beating me and starving me,” Siegel said. Stahl followed by asking, “Do you think they starved you because or they just didn’t have food?”

Siegel denied that his torturers didn’t have enough food, recounting, “No, I think they starved me, and they would often eat in front of me and not offer me food.” 

The former hostage and his wife were kidnapped from their kibbutz during Hamas’ terror attack in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.

Siegel spent 484 days in “unimaginable conditions” in Hamas captivity. 

The ex-hostage also recounted how he was only allowed to bathe once a month by pouring a cup of water over his head into a bucket, and described witnessing Hamas members sexually assaulting female hostages. 

Stahl’s question prompted backlash on social media platform X. 

Jewish journalist Ari Hoffman savaged Stahl over the question, stating, “She should ask the Nazis if they meant to starve the Jews in the Holocaust or didn’t have enough aid.”

A pro-Israel account, Jews Fight Back, posted, “Lesley Stahl looked a Jewish hostage in the face—after being starved, tortured, beaten, and dragged through hell—and asked if maybe Hamas didn’t mean to starve him. Maybe they just didn’t have food. Are you f— kidding me? Shame on 60 Minutes. Shame on CBS. And shame on every apologist who still can’t admit that Hamas is pure evil.”

The US organization StopAntisemitism wrote, “Ridiculous moment on @60Minutes: Lesley Stahl asks hostage Keith Siegel if Hamas starved him because they had no food. He shuts her down. Hamas not only starved him, they ate in front of him, mocked him, sexually humiliated him, and forced him to watch female hostages being tortured.”

It added, “Meanwhile, @CBS pushes Hamas casualty numbers and falsely claims Israel ended the ceasefire. Hamas ended it.”

A Jewish activist account, Vivid, declared, “I can’t believe my eyes. Lesley Stahl had the audacity to ask a Jewish hostage, who was tortured and starved by Hamas, if Hamas really meant to starve him or if they just didn’t have enough food. Is this a joke? How the hell can she even ask him that?”

Representatives for CBS News did not respond to Fox News Digital’s request for comment.

[saywhat-politics]

Ending a two-decade program to give people in poor countries anti-HIV medication will cause millions to develop AIDS and die. It's also a massive national security disaster.

The Trump administration cruelly and abruptly stopped the distribution of live-saving antiretroviral drugs to almost 26 million people worldwide. The program, the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief—PEPFAR—is the global health program started by Republican president George W. Bush in 2003. He celebrated the 20 year anniversary in 2023 at his presidential library.

While the White House has called this a “pause,” The New York Times described it in more dire terms:

On Monday afternoon, officials worldwide were alerted that PEPFAR’s data systems would shut down at 6 p.m. Eastern — roughly three hours after the email was received — immediately closing off access to all data sets, reports and analytical tools.

“Users should prioritize copying key documents and data,” said the email viewed by The Times.

The message prompted speculation that the program would not resume, as its future was already in question.

The Times noted, in what seems like pure evil, that the administration, “has instructed organizations in other countries to stop disbursing H.I.V. medications purchased with U.S. aid, even if the drugs have already been obtained and are sitting in local clinics.”

[bathroomcryptid]

Emotional Support

A/N: Hiii everyone, this is my first kinda work for Warhammer and I’m very excited. This is just a funny intro I came up with in my head with more to come about each legion. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none

Are you, citizen of our great Imperium, craving a change in career? Or are you otherwise unemployed and seeking stable employment? Well, we here at Imperium of Man Inc. have just the career for you!

After years and years of research, it’s come to the attention of everyone involved that we humans are communal by nature and crave intimate relationships with other humans and have a great need for those deep fulfilling bonds (platonic, romantic, or otherwise). This also rings true for your local Space Marine Chapter. Therefore, we here at Imperium of Man inc. have a bunch of emotionally stunted Space Marines desiring people with whom they can essentially imprint on and we need the serfs to be able to do their jobs…Either way, this gap in the market has prompted us here to roll out the first of many programs designed to keep the Empire’s finest in tip top shape. We’d like to introduce to you, Imperial citizen, our newest career path - Emotional Support Human!

That’s right! Today, you could be one of a select few chosen after a series of tests to be placed with your local space marine chapter to be their Emotional Support Human and help support the Emperor’s Angels in a variety of ways.

Qualifications:

-Passing all Imperial Temperament Tests

-Excellent communication skills (verbal, written, etc)

-Happy, Courteous, Enthusiastic, Attentive and Empathetic

-Meets mobility requirements

-Proficient in the Imperial and High Gothic (High Gothic lessons available after employment)

-Ability to multitask

-Work under pressure and at a fast pace

-Willing to learn and understand complex military terminology and strategies

-Able to cope with sudden changes in elevation and being carried around

-Able to perform deep pressure therapy

-Able to cope with hearing complex trauma and lend support as needed

-Able to wield a basic knife and fire a weapon with decent accuracy (training provided if skills not already acquired)

-The mental fortitude to see eldritch horrors beyond comprehension and not go insane

-Comply with imperial policy

-First aid may be required based on legion policy

Benefits:

-competitive salary

-A clean room to sleep in (may share with other emotional support humans based on legion policy)

-At least three meals a day

-free visits to the legion Apothecary

Being an Emotional Support Human HCs:

- You were basically snatched off the street by Imperial employees with little grace. Let’s be honest here, it’s the Imperium.

- The whole time you’re convinced that they’re about to turn you into a servitor. You’re not stupid, you’ve heard the stories of people being yanked of the streets and going missing all to end up as servitors

- You just hope they lobotomize you quickly.

- To say you’re confused when they just stick you in a random room and congratulate you on being selected as a potential candidate for their newest program is an understatement and you’re even more confused when they tell you that they are about to administer their new test for you.

- Do you have to take a test to become a servitor now? You thought the only requirement was a mostly functioning brain?

- You comply (not that you have much choice with the two armed guards staring you down) and take the test, a little unnerved the whole time as the proctor administers the test, but oh well.

- Next thing you know, you’ve passed and they congratulate you on your new job - a Space Marine Emotional Support Human (SMESH/ESH but smesh is just funnier-)

- Anyway, you have no idea wtf that is, but you’re apparently not becoming a servitor and that’s about enough to get you to do anything.

- Plus, a free room and three meals a day were apart of the benefits package and they had you at that.

- You’re moved into another room with about 20 other people, all of you looking equally as confused.

- An Imperial employee gets up in front of you and congratulates you on being the first batch and trial run of the Imperium’s newest hare brained scheme (your words not theirs) - the Space Marine Emotional Support Human program.

- Your new job? Becoming your local space marine legion’s new in-house therapist/stress toy/state sponsored best friend

- Out of everyone that was tested, 21 people passed, and the lot of you were the 20 selected to be in the program (one person per legion). You think 21 people passing the stupid test is ridiculously low but whatever. (Turns out, being able to tolerate your now line of work takes a pretty optimistic and mentally sturdy person that’s not all that common)

- You’re given your new uniform and basically shunted off to your new forever home and to the people the Imperium would love for you to bond with…what could go wrong?

[the-voice-beckons-below]

the last prayer

bucky barnes x deity reader (he/him, third person)

this is my entry for @elixirfromthestars ‘s cinema writing contest! it’s probably quite an out there prompt but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! (dialogue prompt used: “it’s okay, i’ve got you now”)

synopsis: a decade has passed since the initial capture of james ‘bucky’ barnes, who after so long is finally running out of time to save his humanity. which is why for some reason he makes the absurd choice to pray, and unbeknownst to him, wakes something dark and ancient.

warnings: torture, violence, hints to murder, angst (it’s bucky, very expected). it’s not super religious, reader is like a god the way loki or thor is buttt there’s a few more mechanics to it involving worship and dormancy.

wordcount: 3,045

there is no god.

not within hydra’s snare, not within the depths of torture and brainwashing that has now spanned across years.

hope has long since been abandoned, if there is a hell, this is it, there is surely nowhere worse than this.

so bucky doesn’t know why in the heat of it all, while clutching at the tethers he’s been desperately hanging onto, the fragments of who he was - is, where they try to pull him apart once more, that he suddenly decides to hopelessly pray.

he does it silently in his head, viewing himself opaquely from behind a looking glass as they beckon him to become a machine. it is clear that soon, he will be buried within his own body, that something mechanical will take over to do terrible, terrible things. bucky knows by now that there is no light at the end of this tunnel, only blood, only death, caused by hands that are somehow attached to him.

he isn’t ready for when they finally break him.

there is no answer, the assumption can only be correct as they strap him down tighter into that blasted chair and try to forcibly fry his mind. electricity fizzles and crackles all throughout his head, it will forever burn, even when he’s not in the chair he feels it, a phantom pressure seeping beyond his socket, that is hard to discern if it’s real or false.

the harsh truth echoes all around him, reverberates in his bones.

no one is coming to save bucky barnes.

well, bucky barnes died falling from that train, he died the second hydra sunk their claws in. he is continuously dying as they slowly dissect whatever is left, they are in real time, attempting to convert him into an object, into a machine without autonomy or control.

they are trying to take away what is innately human. his thoughts, his feelings, they will be scrapped and forged into programming, orders and targets.

so yes, it is very obvious by now that no one is coming to rescue him from this.

what he isn’t aware of, is how wrong he actually is. this time bucky has not been ignored, something has noticed the anguish plaguing him, and it listens with rapt attention. it hangs achingly on every word, every cry, that echoes from him.

it is heard by a previously dormant god stirring awake from the depths, for the very first time in centuries. he wakes up nestled between dusty and crumpled ruins, what might’ve been an altar in his name, there are no scriptures or scrolls, it seems that he has been forgotten until now. a deity who slumbered without a single follower or believer for an untold amount of years, suddenly awoken by the most desperate and profoundly broken plea he’d ever heard.

there is barely time to look around, for the environment to sink in. why had his final resting place been here? why was he forgotten? who was his last devotee? a million questions flood his long, awaiting, buzzing body. a fizzle creeps inside his gut the longer he waits, the more he lingers and doesn’t attend to that sharp, hopeless call.

the god doesn’t falter, he brushes any tiredness away, this is his first follower in a long time, and they need him.

the scene that greets him does not aid his protectiveness, it only trebles it. it is no wonder the call had seemed wrenching, what is being done is unfathomable, a contraption which from just one look seems sickening. restraining a man, holding him so tightly in place, and the thing lodged against the eye is horrific.

whatever the plate attached to the right side of the face is, it’s certainly alive, spitting live sparks and light straight against skin. the person in the chair is biting down so hard that he’s surprised the other’s teeth aren’t cracking under the fierce pressure of their jaw locking. despite his caller’s mouth being firmly shut, the screams pouring out are barely muffled, they’re guttural, raw, and they make the god’s stomach twist even more.

it is nothing like he has ever seen before, and he has seen countless of lives, of mortals, their squabbles and war, their arguments and their loves. this surely cannot be the doing of humankind, it is too cruel, how can someone mutilate another in such a way?

but his eyes are not deceiving, there are humans in white coats roaming all around, ignoring the one so obviously in excruciating pain. they are used to it, that realisation alone makes his blood boil.

he cannot withstand it a moment longer, any previous silent acknowledgement to not meddle with mortals unwinds far from him. it doesn’t matter anymore, there is no religion in his name, it is just him and this one small devotee, soaked in pain and suffering.

so when he finally steps out of the shadows, now visible to the human eye, he doesn’t bother with politeness or pleasantries, those were already revoked at this point. there is no forgiveness, gentleness or compassion in the way he squanders the crowd surrounding the caller. it is a mess of screams, thick black clouds swamp the room, none of what occurs can be seen, but it undoubtedly violent, twisted, and permanent.

he just hopes if the soldier in the chair was watching, the smoke obscured it enough. to the god’s horror, the machine is still on, whirring and humming hauntingly. he doesn’t know what it is, what it does, but he strides towards it with panic anyway, and frantically rips it all off, searching for injury with furrowed brows.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you now.” he means it, this stranger is just that, a stranger, someone he does not know, yet the urge to take care of the other is overwhelming. “can you speak? what is your name?”

the voice that answers him is gravelly, spoken by a spent and tired man, “m’bucky, my name, it’s…it’s bucky.”

it is clear that bucky is delirious, stuck in a heady haze from whatever just occurred, because it takes him a few seconds to register the mass of people are gone, that the thing speaking to him isn’t human, that he’s being touched by someone who might once again hurt him. it isn’t a surprise that he flinches, and then tries to scramble away, it’s like his entire body gets dunked in total fear.

the god moves back immediately, unable to help the frown overcoming his face, the last thing he wanted was to scare this bucky. thinking quickly, he changes tactics and crouches lower to the ground, akin to approaching a spooked animal, his hulking body looks awkward with trying to appear small. “you called for me. i will not hurt you.”

bucky’s steel eyes flash with confusion, then uncertainty, then anger. “that’s not funny. i don’t know who you are, but just get it over with, don’t fucking play with me.”

a part of him wants to huff, to scowl at the way a mortal is talking to him, but he can’t really find it within himself to care enough about it. this human is unique, an enigma that doesn’t even know itself. instead of frustration, he sinks deeper into patience for this new follower.

slowly, he reaches towards the soldier, watching carefully for any jerky movements or instinctual reactions, when all he finds is wary glances at his hand, he continues, softly pressing the pads of his fingers against bucky’s ear that is lightly bleeding. it is miraculous what gods can do, how much magic they have within just their very fingertips, in the next moment, the trickle of blood is gone.

it looks like there was no injury to begin with. he repeats the action around the man’s head, and even around the shoulder which is deeply scarred and yet seemingly still deeply painful and sore. after the deity is done, he leans back, intently watching bucky’s face.

his brows are furrowed, lips parted, he appears to be a breath away from an argument or accusation. his muscles are pulled taut, ineffably tense, the metal of his left arm creaks. “you’re fucking kidding me. there is a god…and it took you this long?” it comes out flat and the laugh that leaves bucky is humourless, a bark that’s full of venom.

he doesn’t know what to say, there isn’t much to be said. despite the words spoken, there is not just hatred in bucky’s eyes, there’s also relief, but it seems neatly tucked away behind anger. “there’s multiple actually,” he awkwardly stops that sentence at the look on bucky’s face, half disbelieving and the other half pissed off. “i’ve just been dormant.”

the man borders on a scowl, “what do you mean dormant?” there seems to be more movement in his body now, enough so that he squirms to get out the chair, but immediately falls to his knees when he does, the deity is there to catch him, keeping him relatively upright. bucky huffs at the touch, his body still a little slack, the god shudders from the heat radiating off the human and pulls back enough to give him space. its been a long time since he's felt any warmth.

“i haven’t had anyone pray to me for a long time. so, i was dormant, asleep, unable to wake up until someone woke me. you did.” it's a clipped admission, like he is covering up how raw the reality actually is.

there’s a pause, a breath of confusion, “i did?”

he nods back to bucky, “you did." he then hesitantly adds, "i am sorry that i couldn’t come sooner.” there is a guilt that claws at his chest, bubbling up straight to his throat, where he is unable to swallow, “but i’m here now, and no one will hurt you, not while i’m here.”

he guides bucky far away from the chair, and then uses his magic to take them somewhere even farther, absent from the effects of time and humanity. it is extremely void-like, an ocean of ink that spans an unfathomable distance, yet it is not cold. more than anything it is comfortable, peaceful, if you focus hard enough you can hear the distant tweets of birds or the hustle and bustle of brooklyn.

atleast that’s what bucky hears, it’s a place designed to be safe, reminiscent of home. “why save me? could’ve just left me there.”

“i wouldn’t have.” its the truth, “and you needed me. you called for me.”

“i still don’t get it.” he scowls, but it holds almost no malice, he stares up at the god, eyes searching for something, for a hint of betrayal or bad intentions.

the skepticism finally washes off bucky’s face, whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it, he is probably too tired to keep his guard up, he’s been doing that for years. this place has the sounds of brooklyn, when he closes his eyes, he swears he can hear his ma’s voice, gentle, coaxing in his ears to rest. he’s been solely burning on reserves that haven’t existed, fighting against a force that was bound to always beat him, until a god decided to fight in his corner, which is still incredibly hard to wrap his muddled head around.

“you should rest.” the god speaks again, gaze flickering to bucky with an emotion the soldier can’t decipher. he settles down on his knees, huge body furling against the ground, and he watches bucky absentmindedly.

there is still that strange expression coated on the god’s face, almost like the start of a goodbye, close to fond and sad.

“where do i slee-“ before bucky can even finish, there is a bed conjured right in front of him, obscenely big compared to the cramped bed he used to sleep in, the apartment in brooklyn he shared with steve, with chipped walls and its slightly stale air. this bed would cost a fortune, he feels odd even stepping towards it. the question of how it appeared lingers on his tongue, but he’s too exhausted to question it, a god is right next to him, he doesn’t have the capacity to think about what a god can’t do. “oh.”

he still hesitates to clamber into it’s mountainous duvet and circle of fluffy pillows. even though the deity healed parts of him, there is still an awful ache that weighs him down, it’s like any sort of pain is clinging to him, whether it’s imaginary or not. subconsciously it feels like a trick, it can’t be safe can it? he’s not safe from hydra anywhere, they will always find him, he is just property-

“rest.” the god repeats, firmly, but almost faltering. “you’re not needed yet, i’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“hey now-“

bucky doesn’t even have time to question that sentence, the moment his body sags onto the bed, it feels like coming home. there are inklings of steve, his ma, his siblings, brooklyn, everywhere and everyone he has ever loved, he hears them faintly, he smells them distantly. it is enough to lull him to sleep almost instantaneously, so even though he wanted to narrow his eyes and demand what that statement meant, he cannot. his mouth fills with cotton, his body weights what feels like tonnes, he is warm, he feels safe.

his eyes droop as he melts into the duvet, it is warm, comfortable, such a contrast compared to the agonising frost of cryo. there is a semblance of peace that nestles into his worn bones, it’s the first time in a long time that he can breathe, exist, without an abnormal amount of pain. in this odd bed, in an incomprehensible realm, bucky slips into a soft slumber.

bucky barnes has a larger purpose, he cannot just go back to brooklyn, he is needed, decades in the future. he will wake up to find his best friend was presumed dead and yet was somehow found, buried in a block of ice. somehow him and steve will have survived, and they will find each other again. both of their families will be mostly long gone, as well as everyone they ever knew, but they will have each other.

and bucky barnes will have avoided the reality where he got moulded into a killing machine, ruined beyond comprehension that he forgot who he was entirely. there is still a lot of work to do in this version, the man is still traumatised, may forever be wounded by what was done to him, and there is no guarantee in the future that hydra won’t get him again and finish the job, but atleast for now, he is alright. he is asleep.

the god will watch over, and will also be alone for around 60 years. no one will pray to him, he is quite sure of it, whatever happened with bucky was purely accidental, but he is glad it happened. his larger purpose is making sure bucky gets where he’s needed, and then after that? well, it will likely be dormancy, and this time, permanently. it is something he’ll need to make peace with, not now, but eventually.

after a few years, he momentarily departs from bucky, triple checking that the man is still comfortable and sleeping, and then heads to where he woke up.

it is still abandoned, desolate, it is in all, a sad sight. he meticulously checks everything, each compartment and nook is empty, ransacked. his gut twists with the realisation that they removed him from history, there isn’t a singular scroll or scripture. there is an urge to cry that wells within his chest, he has officially failed in his godhood, but it is fine, it has to be fine.

it may be hours or days that he spends wallowing in those ruins, raking over it what feels like a million times, committing the pathetic structure into memory, as if it might change for the better, or maybe because he won’t see it again. he has no plans to depart from bucky once more, there is no one else to visit, so he leans down, right next to the barren altar and presses a featherlight kiss to the cracked, carved stone. it is a goodbye for all those he failed, and all those who once followed him.

when he returns, bucky is still sleeping, but he has fidgeted with his metal arm, it glints and gleams, rippling with a hypnotising light. it is still strange to see, he doesn’t know whether to scorn it or admire it on the man knowing the way it got there must’ve been from a deep tragedy. there is a big chance he will never get the opportunity to ask how he got it, and a small pit of sadness swells within him.

despite it all, bucky is a vision, face messily framed by a brown mane, long eyelashes, slightly parted lips and his scratchy stubble. the scars on him are far from grotesque, they paint a picture so vivid he is unsure if he can look away. this man has survived, and in the future some day he will live again.

in all of his years existing as a deity, watching and observing lives but never living one himself, he lets himself yearn, for just one singular moment. what would it had been like? to chase fulfilment? perhaps love? it sounds odd, but the most emotion he’s ever felt is now, in the presence of being forgotten, but also protecting bucky. a part of him desires to inch closer to the man, to cradle him, or even weave his hand through that brown hair. he wishes to provide comfort for someone who’s been deprived of it for so long, but he sits perfectly still, and watches, just like he’s always done.

he has never been quite so attached to a singular mortal before. it could be because it’s the last one he might ever see, but that’s already false. there is something undeniably magnetising about this man, so, he finds himself quite lucky to be the one to watch over him for the next few decades.

it is a privilege to guard bucky barnes, he concludes.

divider creds: @strangergraphics-archive

author's notes (it turned into a huge rant be warned): if im entirely honest its been hard to write what ive wanted to write recently, partly because i felt obligated to cater to a wider audience. i put a lot of pressure on myself because i thought people wouldn't really read if i wrote a reader that was trans or used he/him. i am trying to get out of that mindset, and attempting to write whatever id like to, i think its just the people pleasing side of me being a little too incessant. this however was a step to writing what i wanted, and for that reason im really happy with it.

this is turning into an author’s ramble, if you’re curious on what happens to the god/what the god looks like in my mind, here’s the answer: some of the canon mcu events still did happen, the initial plan for the god was to watch over bucky for around 60 years, but bucky may have been needed by fate sooner. in any case, no matter when bucky wakes up, the god is expecting to go dormant, except i like to think that bucky doesn’t necessarily worship this god, but definitely remembers him, thinks of him in hard times, and in doing so the god stays alive, and dutifully (and excitedly) watches bucky’s life. he very predictably falls in love with bucky, but never takes action. the next time these two actually see each other would be after thanos’ snap, and when bucky blips, he ends up in the god’s realm. i imagine this time that bucky would refuse to sleep, insisting on knowing what’s going on in the world while he technically doesn’t exist anymore.

it would be such an interesting dynamic imo, bucky reuniting with this old god that saved him, knowing that he’s actually not forever dead because otherwise he’d be somewhere different, so he knows sometime in the future the avengers figure out how to undo the snap, and in the meantime he sets it as his goal to befriend this giant god who he only briefly got to speak to in what feels like a past life. i think by the end of it, when bucky gets snapped back, the god promises to visit bucky properly, because after five years of talking and keeping each other company, they’re quite close. this deity loves bucky fiercely, and bucky is probably a little taken aback when he realises, but eventually tries to show reciprocation.

can you imagine the faces of the avengers when one day this GIANT humanoid thing is walking behind bucky like a scary dog and they’re like tf is that??? are we just going to ignore that eldritch being hello???

that brings me to what i picture this god to look like personally, everyone’s interpretations upon reading will be different which i love!! i see him as huge in height, potentially multiple arms, shadow-like in the sense he’s pure black, his skin almost looks like a void, im imagining white eyes (perhaps multiple), and he’s both sharp and soft.

one last thing, i’d like to thank my one mootie for giving me the motivation to start writing more, you know who you are beloved!! (not tagging because i’m not sure if a he/him reader is your cup of tea but i wanted to do an end credits dedication to you mwah mwah 💕!!)

i said one last thing but i lied, im hoping i can maybe do one more entry for this challenge, it’s a great motivator and the prompts are simply amazing!! thank you so much EVERYONE who reads this at any point in time, it means the world to me <3

also song that helped to keep inspiring the fic was “about you” by the 1975

[dross-the-fish]

What about writers and chat gpt?

same principal. Whether you hire a human writer to write your ideas into a novel or you use the AI to do it you're still using an external source to do the writing for you rather than being a writer yourself. And again I don't really think AI is an effective tool to help someone grow their writing skill or help a disabled person become a writer since the generative function also means results are going to be randomized and very limited in what it's actually going to be able to do for you. Even if it generates a serviceable result it's not going to be able to output a consistent quality or style, it's just a machine's closest approximation of what you want based on how it understands a prompt. I could put out a detailed prompt and hold a writing contest and get a bunch of random people to write me something then pick out which story I liked best. I have a story, possibly a good one, but I did not write it and therefore cannot call myself an author. That is effectively what Gen AI is an alternative for commissioning a writer. You didn't make this. I would even argue it's not really a good disability aid as it doesn't actually assist you in making your creation, it creates in place of you. And I'm speaking as someone who has always struggled a lot with both reading and writing and who frequently uses aids when they are available to me. Whether it's writing with more spacing or dyslexia friendly formatting. I don't write completely unassisted.

There are plenty of writing tools you can use if you struggle with writing, I sometimes do audio recordings of my writing and have my partner help me transcribe it when I find the actual process of writing to be overwhelming or difficult. But I do write. It is still my words, my characters, my prose, such as it is. It may not be good or up to a professional standard of writing, but it is unquestionably my work and that's really the crux of what makes an artist or writer. I had to painstakingly learn how to slow down and organize my thoughts and learn how to make an outline and a draft. Any skill is going to take a measure of work or dedication and for a lot of us that is going to be difficult. At some point we do have to accept that there will be things we can't do and some of our setbacks cannot be compensated for even with assistance. There will be times when you do have to let go of the notion of making something "good" and focus on making it because you want to create something. Generative AI created content will never be anyone's work. I don't care how much skill it takes to input the prompt or how long it takes to filter through the results and give suggestions for changes. That's literally what a client does when they hire an artist or writer but in this case your artist/writer is a subscription to an AI program. It's not different and the fact that this is even in question seems weird to me. We don't call people writers when they hire an author to pen a work for them. So it stands to reason that we wouldn't call them writers if they ask a program to do it.

[contemplatingoutlander]

States caught unprepared for Trump’s threats to FEMA

FEMA is canceling plans to award states grants to help prepare against future disasters. Federal funds given to states after disasters strike could also be in jeopardy.

Torrential rain fell on Eastern Kentucky in July 2022, turning creeks into rivers that roared through the valleys and hollows, wrecking hundreds of homes and killing 45 people. Since then, the state has been trapped in a cycle of seemingly never-ending disasters, exhausting storm-weary residents in impoverished small towns. “Our families are hurting and suffering, and our businesses are being hit and hit again,” said Kristin Walker Collins, chief executive of the nonprofit Foundation for Appalachian Kentucky.

The Trump administration is doing away with FEMA bit by bit. Right now they are ending the Building Resilient Infrastructure and Communities (BRIC) program that has provided billions of dollars in grants to states

to repair levees, elevate flood-prone homes and shore up drinking water systems. The program was built on research showing it is many times less expensive to protect against future damage from natural disasters than to pay for repairs and rebuilding afterward.

A FEMA spokesperson gave this reason for why BRIC is ending:

“BRIC was yet another example of a wasteful and ineffective FEMA program,” she said in a statement. “It was more concerned with climate change than helping Americans effected by natural disasters.”

This is another example of how Trump's unconscionable war on anything to do with "climate change" is going to cost American lives and far more money repairing property damage than if Trump had just continued the BRIC proactive program of shoring up infrastructure to prevent unnecessary damage during extreme weather events.

That Trump wants to live in denial about climate change won't make it go away.

But regarding FEMA, Trump doesn't want to stop there:

The president has said he wants to eliminate FEMA and shift responsibility for disaster response to the states — which experts said are unprepared to respond to catastrophic disasters without federal assistance. [...] Some emergency management experts say the president’s proposal to shift the financial responsibility of responding to those disasters to states could prompt chaos in state capitals and city governments, forcing messy political fights about how to pay for disaster relief and fund preparedness offices.

It shouldn't be surprising, that two of the three top states for FEMA aid since 2003 are red states:

Among states, Louisiana ($22 billion), New York ($17.6 billion) and Florida ($13.6 billion) received the most in public assistance funds over the past two decades, mostly for damage caused by hurricanes, according to the analysis. [color emphasis added]

Red states could be in major trouble without FEMA, since GOP legislatures typically don't believe in raising taxes for needed services. Some of those states, like Wyoming, have such small populations that they might not be able to meet state disaster relief needs on their own, even if they raise taxes.

In the light of Trump and the GOP's determination to cut taxes for the obscenely wealthy, Trump's plans to cut back on FEMA are particularly cruel.

This is a gift 🎁 link, so you can read the article without a paywall.

[neonswitchhouse]

Magical AI Grimoire Review

Let’s just get a couple of things out of the way:

1) I’ve been in witchcraft spaces for going on 10+ years now

2) I’ve been flirting around in chaos magic spaces for around the same amount of time

3) I am 30+ a “millennial” if one may

4) I am anti-generative AI so of course this is going to have a bit of a negative slant towards generative AI and LLM Based models as a whole

That being said, what drew me to the book at first was two things: one, the notion of “egregore work” in the latter chapters and two, the notion of using AI in any sort of magical space or connotation, especially with the overlap as of late in some pop culture witch circles especially with using chatbots as a form of divination or communication rather than say through cards, Clair’s, or otherwise

Let’s get into it

Starting off, here is the table of contents for said book:

Of note, chapters 13-16 and chapters 21-23. Just keep these in the back of your mind for later.

In chapter 1, the author, Davezilla describes a story of a young witch in a more rural environment, isolated from for example other witchy communities and the like, while she makes do with what she has, she wants to advance her craft, notably with a spell to boost things agriculturally for her farm that she manages through other technological means. Booting up ChatGPT, the program whips up an incantation for rain with a rhyming spell to a spirit dubbed “Mélusine” to help aid in a drought. She even uses the prompt and program for aid in supplies such as candles and herbs and even what to use as substitutes should she not be able to procure and blue or white candles.

This is not a testimonial however but an example given by the author. That’s all a majority of this book is; examples rather than testimonials or results vetted through other witches or practitioners. While not typical in most witchy books to give reviews or testimonials of course, it’s generally a bit of a note for most spell books worth the ink and paper and the like for spells to have actually been tested and given results before hand, at least from what I’ve gathered from other writers in the witchcraft space. Even my own grimoire pages are based not only on personal experiences and results, but from what I’ve observed from others.

Then we get into terms from Lucimi and Santeria for…some reason.

The author claims that he has been initiated into these closed/initiation only traditions, but within the context of the book and the topic given, this just seems like a way to flex that he’s ✨special✨ and not like other occultists or the like. But that’s not even the worst of it, as he even tries to make ChatGPT write a spell based off of said traditions

Again, keep in mind that this is based off of closed or initiatory practice and the author is judging by his AI generated Chad-tactic author picture, a white older millennial at best

And obligatory “I don’t go here”/im not initiated into any of these practices but to make an AI write a spell based off of closed path and practice seems…tasteless at best

But oh my, what else this author tries to make Chat conjure up

In order

1) This is at best what every other lucid dreaming guide or reading would give for basic instructions. Not too alarming but very basic

2) & 3) To borrow a phrase from TikTok but not to label myself as “the friend who’s too woke”, but making an AI write a supposed “curse” in the style of not only a prolific comedy writer and director but one also of Jewish descent seems…vaguely anti-Semitic in words I can’t quite place right now

4) & 5) As an author for fanfic and my own original personal works, this whole thing just seems slipshod at best, C level bargain bin, unoriginal material at worst. This barely has any relevance to the topics of the book

Speaking of the topics, remember chapters 13-16 noted

It’s literally just AI prompts for ChatGpt and MidJourney, completely bypassing any traditions associated with such, especially indigenous traditions associated with the contexts of “totem animals” which from the prompts seems more like a hackneyed version of “spirit animals” circa the early to mid 2010’s popularized from Buzzfeed and the like.

But, time for the main event, The Egregore section:

The chapter starts off actually rather nicely, describing egregore theory and how an egregore is formed or fueled. I’ll give him credit for at least that much. While he doesn’t use examples as chatbot communication, he proposes that in a sense, Ai programs have the capacity to generate egregores and the like. And to show an example of such, he gives a link to his own “digital egregore” at the following url: hexsupport.club/ai with the password “Robert smith is looking old”

At the time of my visitation to the website, (Apr 14, 2025), I was greeted only with a 404 error page with no password prompt or box to enter in

Fitting, if you ask me.

Unless you’re really -really- into ChatGPT and Midjourney, despite its environmental damages and costs, despite its drain of creativity and resources, despite its psychological and learning impacts we’re seeing in academic spaces like college and high schools in the US, and despite the array of hallucinations and overall slurry of hodgepodge “information” and amalgamations of what an object or picture “should” look like based on specific algorithms, prompts, and limits, don’t bother with this book. You’re better off doing the prompts on your own. Which conveniently, the author also provides AI resources and the like on his own website.

I’ll end off this rant and review by one last tidbit. In the chapter of Promptcraft 101 in the subheader “Finding Your Own Voice”, the author poses that “Witches and Magic Workers Don’t Steal”

Witches and Magic Workers Don’t Steal

The author is supposedly well versed in AI and AI technology and how it works. With such, we may also assume he knows how scraping works and how Large Language Models or LLMs get that info, often through gathering art and information from unconsenting or unawares sources, with the wake of the most recent scraping reported from sites such as AO3 as a recent example as of posting

This is hypocritical bullshit. No fun and flouncy words like what I like to use to describe things, just bullshit.

Cameras didn’t steal information or the like from painters and sculptors

Tools like Photoshop, ClipsArt, etc didn’t steal from traditional artists

To say that generative AI is another tool and technological advancement is loaded at best, downright ignorant and irresponsible at worst.

Do not buy this book.

[nattousan]

Hey, student loans payments are coming back in October, you should know about the SAVE plan.

this is america-centric but pls spread this around if you think any of ur mutuals could use the info.

If you're currently shitting yourself thinking how you're gonna start making student loan payments again, I suggest taking a deep breath, first off. Get comfy, put on some music and strap in.

If you got your student loans through the Federal Student Aid program FAFSA, then you can apply for an IDR (Income Driven Repayment plan) called SAVE.

what is SAVE?

This got my $115 monthly payment down to $40 a month, if you don't work or you can't afford much, this has the potential to reduce your payment even further.

Alls you need to do is go to https://studentaid.gov/idr/ and log into your federal student aid account, there's a section for both first time applicants and returning borrowers who previously may have had an IDR.

Even if you've done an IDR before! Look into the SAVE plan!! It forgave about 10k of debt for me!

Anyway, first time applicants can click the first option, "Apply for an Income-Driven Repayment Plan" and just go through and answer all their prompts, make sure you have all your financial information on hand (tax returns, most recent pay stub, etc) and go through the prompts until it gives you the option to apply for the SAVE plan. CLICK IT!

It should let you know at the end exactly how much you'll be paying per month and you should get an email confirmation as well. Any account specific questions should be directed to their call center +1 (800) 433-3243

GOOD LUCK AND BE PATIENT, THE SITE IS SLOW AS SHIT.

DON'T GIVE UP! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!

if you have any questions feel free to DM me btw

[perkqularkreashions]

Last Nice Guy in New York??

Part Two: Living with the Enemy

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

YN's POV

PEACHES grabbed my arm slightly; her eyes wandered over my face, and I thought I saw something in them other than narcissism and an inflated ego for a brief moment. They were soft, a look ventured across her features, and her touch was more delicate. “YN,” she calls out in a tone I barely recognized. She saw it. 

I retorted, “Peaches, I have to get going. I have this thing to do for class. But I will see you tonight.” She reluctantly nodded, pushing her lips together in a frown. She turned away, returning to our group of friends. Beck stared apologetically for a moment before turning away with them. Some days, I didn’t feel a part of the friend group; I didn’t live the same life they lived, nor did I want to fake it like Beck does. I couldn’t buy expensive jewelry or spend every day at a high-end coffee shop wasting 15 dollars on coffee and a bagel. I worked on campus as a TA/Tutor, allowing me to qualify for financial aid/assisted living, and being a single parent also helped secure those benefits.

The wind caressed my skin, and the smell of gasoline and pastries filled my nose—the loud chatter of the busy streets surrounded me. I pushed open the solid oak doors, the smell of baby powder, formula, and paper. I was thankful that the Daycare Center was on the third floor, away from prying eyes and judgmental glares. I tapped my toe gently in the elevator as I watched the numbers dance from 1 to 2 and dinging at 3. Hand-painted pictures scattered the walls, bringing life to the dull ward of the campus. Hand turkeys and finger-printed flowers. Photos of children with their names along with their likes and dislikes. I was then greeted by Jessica, one of the students in the Teaching Program –she smiled widely at me as she stood up for a hug. Her arms wrapped around me, her fragrance engulfed as she tried masking the smell of throw-up and other fluids. “Hey YN! Long time no see.” 

A responded with a bright smile, “I know you’ve been gone for some weeks. I think Rafi was starting to miss you too.” she laughed brightly with a toothy grin. She moves away from me, leaving me alone in the hallway. I move away from the receptionist's desk. I stare at the art, my finger dancing against the groves of the crayons and paint. I heard his soft babble; swiftly, I turned around and saw his bright, toothless smile. 

“It’s mama! Look, it’s mama,” she cooed, pointing her finger toward me. I smiled, adjusting my bag and taking him into my arms, momentarily kissing the corner of his head. The anxiety flushing away as he was safe in my arms. “He hasn’t been around the last month from what I heard; keep doing what you’re doing,” she comforts me, her hand resting on my shoulder. I nodded frantically as I moved away from her. 

The ride home was comforting; the soft sound of jazz filled my ears as the mild breeze ran through the enclosed back seat. Rafael slept peacefully in my lap, my fingers dancing against his ravenous locks. I despised that he looked like his father, from his button nose to the beauty marks that scattered his face and arms. He scrunched his face similarly to his father's when thinking or concentrating on a task. He wore a gold bracelet his mother gifted us when he was born. Says that all the men in their family must have one. I contemplated taking it off, but I never found the courage to.

“I’m thankful for him, you know — I am going to be a better father than my dad ever was.” He stared at him, his hand caressing his face, pressing gentle kisses on his skin. “You’re here,” he whispers, “Finally, here.”

“Ma’am, we’re here,” a voice cuts through my wandering mind. My eyes focused on the man in front of me. A sympathetic smile washed over his lips. 

I mumbled out a thanks before exiting the cab. I pressed the fob to the door, yanking it open as I hurriedly moved in. “Hey, YN!” an excited voice shouts out from the top of the stairs. Her feet paddle against the floor as she peaks over the guard rail. 

“Finally, you’re here! I have been calling out to you all evening!” she jumps in front of me as she smiles at Rafi. I move past her, fiddling my key in the keyhole as I push into the apartment. Her chocolate skin illuminated under the dim lighting in the apartment. Her hair pulled back into a slick ponytail that was loosened ever so slightly. “So, you have a date tonight?”

I laughed, tossing a look over my shoulder. 

“Come on, I’m 18 — practically an adult!” she plops down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath as she looks at me with frustration and curiosity. 

“It’s a party for a friend.” I laid Rafael down in the crib, moving all the blankets and toys I tossed in earlier this morning. “I don’t do dates, Nicole, we already spoke about this,”

She laughs, “You have a 7-month baby; you do more than date.” 

I scoffed in her direction, letting a smile hang on my lips. She giggles at me before her eyes move back to her phone. Her fingers were rapidly typing before her attention turned back to mine. “How’s Rafael’s dad doing?”

I stiffened as I moved to the closet, changing out of my clothes. Pulling on a simple dress, emerging from the closet, I posed slightly. “Approval?”

“Absolutely not,” she laughs, “What kind of party– it doesn’t even matter. We need to get you laid!”

“I don’t need to get anything, I just wanna look nice.”

“You can look nice and edible,” she laughs, “How about a little more boobies and less leg? Something to keep their mind wandering but begging for more.” I pulled out, a periwinkle dress, with a bit of cleavage and less leg; I brushed my hands down my hair, moving them behind my ear.

“Ta-da?” I hummed out, her eyes brightening as she offered me an excited smile. “Yes, now go find Rafael a step-daddy!” 

I roll my eyes, moving out of the apartment and waving her goodbye. She was a sweet girl, just graduated high school and looking for some work while she applied to universities. Her mom and dad are professors at Brown and thought it’d be a good idea to push her in the direction of teaching – in their words, “showing her responsibility through taking care of the lives of others. How the responsibility of molding a young mind can be beneficial.” 

Arriving at Peach’s house was always distasteful, the high-brow society looking down at me, seeing me as the new charity case for her to pick at and display. I didn’t fit into their society, no matter how often Peaches and Annika tried. “Beckalicious,” I heard over the roar of the chatter; she was usually so easily seen and heard no matter where she stood. 

“Is this Joseph?” her voice shrilled in disdain, her arm snaked around Beck with a feigned smile. I chuckled at her momentarily, before returning my attention to the trays of wine that moved about. 

“YN,” I heard a voice call out, a hand snaking around my waist and pulling me closer. I froze; the smell of champagne and cheese filled my nose. “I was hoping to run into you! I missed you!” I spun around seeing Liam Hastings; his hair pulled out his face as he wore a chestnut brown jacket with a navy blue button shirt, his chest slightly showing as he flashed me a smile. 

“It’s like after you broke up Rafael, you just fell off the face of the earth!” he shouts, his hand slapping against my shoulder as he swallows a nod. 

“Just wasn’t the crowd I wanted to be around,” I whispered; he tugged me closer. I clenched my hands, letting this reach his chest, trying to pry us apart. I could feel the air leaving me; my chest got tighter with every breath I took. 

“He looks for you, says— you know what he says to me. Keep an eye on you!” he drunkenly laughs; I yank myself away. I found myself, darting up the stairs and escaping to Peaches’s library. 

“I’m pregnant,” I cry out. Peach sank to her knees, her hand snatching at my wrist; she examined them momentarily. “I don’t want to have his baby! It was one night and I– I”

“Calm down, little dove, please. It hurts me to see you cry,” she whispers. I flinched away from her as she tried wiping the tears away. Realizing washes over her, her face turns cold as she studies me. “YN”

She called out my name; I didn’t have an answer, nor did I want to answer. “Y/N, Hello!”

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and a soft voice called, “Hello.” I spun around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I'm sorry. I’m in my little world,” I chuckle, moving my hair behind my ear. I studied how his face was tightly wound together, his shoulder tense, and his brows furrowed with frustration and thought. I recognized him, the infamous Joe Goldberg that Beck had mentioned. “Joseph, right?”

He shakes his head, “Joe, just Joe.” he forces a smile on his lips. His eyes wandered to the bookshelf before back at me. 

“Well, Just Joe, I’m YN; I wish I could say we would meet under better circumstances, but–” I laughed momentarily, letting my head fall to my feet. “This is probably the best you’ll get.” He chuckles; it was lighthearted– it filled the air so gently. 

“Y/N…?” my name played on his lips. He repeated it a couple of times before silencing. “You’re one of Peaches's friends.”

“Don’t let her catch you saying that,” I laugh. “If she catches you humanizing her too much, she’ll lose her shit. She’s a cold-hearted bitch, but I love that about her.”

“Isn’t she your best friend?” He teased; for a moment, I thought, honest to God, she was everything I needed her to be. She was a cold and calculated bitch, but it didn’t change the fact that when she looked at me, I mean really looked at me… she saw me. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I belong in her world,” I whispered. I begin to move past him; his hand grabs my upper arm. His touch was gentle and inviting. His thumb gently caressed my exposed skin, his eyes resting on my shoulder, and my breath caught in my throat. The noise drowned out, the soft hum of the music, the clanking of glasses, and the chatter of drunken adults. The expectations to be perfect melted away. The world slowly sunk around me. Our eyes finally met. 

Carefully, I whispered to him. “Enjoy the party, just Joe.” His grip loosened as the noise around us resumed. I was warped back into the party. 

Peaches watched me, her eyes dark and cold. Her hand yanked at my arm as she dragged me closer to her. A dark smile washed on her face. “I saw that.”

“Peaches, let it go,” I whispered; she yanked me closer to her. She scoffs lightly. "It was nothing."

“Stealing Beck’s boyfriend too.” Her words slurred slightly, her tongue tripping over the slight syllabus. Her eyes were red and hanging low; she took pills. “Do you realize how pathetic you look?” I stiffened, holding my head away from her. 

“Peach, leave it!” I whisper, my voice weakly danced away in the wind. 

“Just like how you stole Sophia’s boyfriend, you steal Becks lowly boy toy?” her voice growing louder, capturing everyone’s attention. Eyes shift, and the music decreases with each word that Peach spews. “Do you realize how you look? I am just trying to protect you!”

“Peach, please,” I begged.

“It’s like you’re trying to win a game that no one else is playing – what getting fucked once at my house isn’t enough?” Silenced washed over us; my throat stung as I watched her. My lips parted as I tried to find the words to combat her statement, to find something to make this seem like banter. My face grew hot, and all I could do was stare at her, tears falling against my cheeks freely and tickling my chin and chest. “YN-” she begins to stutter, her face contorting gently. 

“I have to go, Peach,” I whispered, ducking past her as I moved past the crowd. The fresh air slammed against my face, and I sucked in gently, trying to gather as much composure as possible. 

Fuck me and fuck her.

[cass-danny-weekend]

Cass/Danny Weekend - Fun Fact! Day 8

It's the final day of fun facts. Prompt releases are just around the corner. So let's wrap these posts up with a final word on Danny.

So the thing about Danny is that arguably he is really smart? In the traditional sense too. We talked about his Junior Space Cadet certificate in a previous post, and while I doubt it's anything like a true astronaut program, it's still a testament to his determination and ambition if nothing else. Yet we know from "Teacher of the Year" that Danny is something of a black sheep in his family because of his supposed intelligence. While Fentons only get A's and the occasional B (in the case of Jack), Danny struggles to keep up with his family's expectations. He's described as a C- student for a reason.

So… Danny's not smart. Or at least, we're not meant to think of him that way. But he has something else that works in his favor: his quick wit. And no, I don't just mean his quips and comebacks (although those are plenty fun too), it also means his adaptability and cleverness. For most of the show, and especially the first season, Danny is an underdog. He doesn't know how to fight, much less how to use all his powers. And he learns new powers all the time.

How has he survived this long? Because he knows how to play to his advantage. Think about it: Danny defeats Freakshow in "Reality Trip", not because he's more powerful, not because he suddenly wrestled the Reality Gauntlet away from him. No, he won because he used Freakshow's only greed and envy against him, tricked him into turning himself into a ghost and then souping him away into the thermos. Look at "One of a Kind", Danny found a way to communicate with Samson to come to his aid.

I could give more examples. "Maternal Instincts", he found a way to use the Plasmius Maximus against Vlad. "Pirate Radio", he rallied his classmates, many of which bullied or ignored him, to rescue their parents. "Frightmare", he's the first to figure out and break out of Nocturn's illusions.

The fandom might like to joke about how he's dense, but he's more observant than we give him credit for sometimes. Just like how Cass is observant--okay I'm laying it on a bit thick, but I think you get the idea.

Once again, thank you so much for joining us with these fun facts! I hope you've learned something new about these characters. And that it had your mind churning with some ideas as we head into May. We'll see you around for Cass/Danny Weekend!

- Mod Halfa

[pillowbee]

“Ay, can you set this thing up?”

Ian glances at the hearing aids in the box. He recognises it as one of the older models from at least six or seven years ago.

“Gotta check it out first. Is it yours?”

“Nah, it’s uh — it’s my mom’s.”

“I see. Well, we need her latest hearing test results to put in this thing, so if she could come by, that would be…”

“Oh, not possible, man,” the client says, nonchalant. “She’s dead.”

//

Or:

Ian is an audiologist at an ear-nose-throat (ENT) and hearing aid clinic. One day, a sketchy client comes in with a pair of outdated hearing aids, asking if Ian could program it to be used again. Ian is sure the guy is lying about how and where he got his hands on the devices, but the desperate look on the guy’s (handsome) face prompts Ian to turn a blind eye.

Chapters: 15/15 (COMPLETED) Word count: 56,440 Tags: Miscommunication, paranoid Mickey Milkovich, hard of hearing Mickey Milkovich, healthcare worker Ian Gallagher

[seraphont]

FAQ & Important Info

About me:

bday: march 30th

lgbt?: im bi

What can we call you?

Seraphont is fine, its supposed to be a play on of Seraph and Serif Font, you can call me Seraph!

What pronouns do you use?

I'd prefer They/Them, but you can use She/Her.

Whats your Main blog?

not posting it publically for now.

Dying and Getting Over It (DaGOI au) Related:

Where can I read DaGOI?

It will be uploaded to my Ao3. its currently being written, so there is no link to the fic yet.

When will you post the fic?

short answer: I'm not sure, Im busy w life, comics will b made in the meantime. its my first time writing a fic, so I ask you to be patient with me! the outline is written and being tweaked, and its going through adjustments now that MD ep 8 is out. Im also moving across the world, so I'm a tad bit busy rn.

Will you include MD ep8 into the canon of your fic?

at first I was on the fence, but its grown on me, its being integrated now.

Will you be drawing all of DaGOI in comic form?

if I was a stronger man I would. I'll mostly be drawing key story moments. making comics is an aid to helping me write. so I'll be making a lot, but I may not be posting them until the chapters start coming out (trying not to spoil everything). to give you an idea, as of writing this, I have 6 comics on the backburner lol.

Art Related:

What art program(s) do you use?

Procreate -Brushes: Shiyoon Kims Wet Brush pack (X) (everything you see on this blog is made with this brushpack) and several Max Packs (X) for procreate

How long have you been drawing?

I've always drawn, but I started getting really serious at 14, around the same time I first made my main blog. I was self taught up until I got into animation school.

What do you do as a career?

I'm currently doing Freelance work for publishers and individuals. I was previously an animator, I'm making the move to storyboarding

Do you take requests/commissions?

I do have commissions open. only lineart, and flat colours are available. if you want a rendered piece: slots are closed, but you can dm me for interest.

Asks and Messaging:

Rules for asks/tagging?

Anyone can send me an Ask, Mutuals, Anons or not!

Dont send discourse or anything explicitly NSFW. you'll be blocked lol. I'd prefer if you didnt send suggestive. if you send me triggering content I’ll mind blast you into dust. (block).

Do not send and DNI's?

Transphobia, Homophobia, Acephobia. All the obvious bigot contenders.

SA, pdfilia and incest are absolute no goes.

are you okay with me direct messaging you?

only if we have spoken before/ you're giving me a headsup about something/ I've prompted you to send me one.

***minors: please refrain from dming me to chit chat, im not down to.***

Why don’t you answer my asks/dms?

my main has 1000+ asks and my other side blog is pushing 250+, sometimes the ask's get lost in the sauce. that being said, some ask's go unaswered because: 1. it might spoil too much if I were to answer. 2. I simply have to think hard to reply. 3. its super nice and im hoarding it all for myself.

Misc

Can you reblog my donation posts?

no. too many scams.

[scarlettjohanssons-mistress]

Pink nightmares

Warnings: First Meetings, fluff

Word count: 1.2 K

Pairing: Barbie (Margot Robbie) x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Barbie meets another human.

PS: Lesbians in a relationship are fast

Requests: OPEN

Special request: @lillymonroe66

[Main masterlist] [Barbie masterlist]

When Barbara got up, she felt her nightshirt sticking to her back. She was sweating. She had had the same nightmare again.

Carefully, she put on the slippers Gloria had bought her and began shuffling her feet to walk to Gloria's door.

She knocked gently on the door, and getting no answer, opened the door only to find the woman sound asleep.

I knew the woman had had a tough week. With her new position at Mattel, a teenage daughter, and her and her husband's estrangement, she didn't have much time for a worried Barbie. So, Barbie simply closed the door and walked to Sasha's door, walked over to the sleeping child and moved her slightly.

"Sasha?"

"Hmm?"

"I can't sleep" she whisper. "What do humans do when they can't sleep?"

"Ahg, Barbie, I don't know , go watch TV or something?"

Sure, when she watched movies with Gloria and she rested her head in her lap, she always fell asleep. That was her solution.

She quickly left the room and went downstairs to the living room, turning on the television and adjusting the volume so as not to disturb anyone.

She changed channels more times than she would like to admit, but, despite finding programs that people regularly use to fall asleep because of how boring they are, such as infomercials (even though Barbie loved infomercials), she couldn't fall asleep.

Thirty minutes later, she was forced to turn off the television and re-enter the teenager's room.

"Sasha?"

"Hmm?"

"I still can't sleep" she whispered again. "what else can I do?"

"Agh, how should I know?" replied the girl half asleep and with obvious irritation. "why don't you go for a walk?" yawned. "Like in the movies you like."

Sure, that always put teenagers in the movies to sleep.

Carefully, she went back downstairs, sitting on the floor to put on the sneakers Gloria had instructed him to leave by the front door, opened the door and quickly decided to put on a sweatshirt of Sasha's, because it was getting a little chilly.

————————————————————————

Barbie had been walking aimlessly for a long time. Somehow, she had reached the Venice Beach pier (her favorite beach), but she was so engrossed in the beauty of the sea, she didn't realize that it had already started to get light.

Least of all she had noticed, a woman was absentmindedly running up to her… until the two collided.

"Oh shit."

"Ahhh"

From the blow, both girls ended up on the floor, the blonde kneeling and the woman in sportswear fell on her butt, but the latter quickly got up to help the blonde up.

"I'm sorry, I'm too distracted."

"Don't worry" spoke Barbie as she tried to brush the dirt off her knees, but as she touched the right one… "Ouch."

"Oh shit" repeated the girl. "Honey, you're bleeding. come here."

Carefully, the stranger took the blonde ex-doll by the shoulders to the table of a coffee shop that was there on the dock and they were just opening.

The girl asked for a first aid kit, sat the blonde down and bent down to be at the blonde's knee.

The waiter quickly brought the first aid kit, causing the stranger to quickly draw the disinfectant on the wound, causing the blonde to hiss.

"I'm really, really sorry. Now you're going to have a little scar on your leg" she spoke, showing sorrow in her eyes.

"Are you kidding?" laughed the blonde "I've never gotten any of these before, it's fabulous… Ahhh!" she yelled as the other woman put disinfectant back on.

"I'm sorry" repeated the stranger. "So…you've never had a raspon, what's wrong with you, didn't you have a childhood?"

'Honey, I think it would be advisable for you not to tell anyone that… you were a doll. People aren't made for this kind of situation normally.'

Gloria's voice reached the blonde's ears.

"It's hard to explain."

Carefully, the woman took a small band-aid out of the box and placed it on the blonde's small, clean wound.

"Ta-da" the woman stood up, as she showed the other woman the band aid along with some jazz hands, eliciting laughter from the former doll. "There. Now not only do you have your scratch, but you also have an amazing band aid to show off. And it's Hello Kitty."

The blonde laughed again.

"Thank you very much…"

She said trying to guess the name of the woman in front of her.

"T/N. My name is T/N. What's yours?"

"Barbara. But everyone calls me Barbie."

They both gave each other a smile.

"Well, Barbie… I'd really like you to tell me about your non-existent experience with childhood injuries."

"Ohh, believe me, it's quite weird and complicated to explain" commented the blonde feeling a strange sensation accentuate in her belly, and she felt a scorching heat rise up her neck to her cheeks.

"Well, I have all the time in the world to understand your story" T/N quickly sat down next to the blonde and gave her a smile. "Besides, I wouldn't waste any opportunity to be with a woman as beautiful as you."

————————————————————————

T/N got out of her car, took her keys and locked the car. She walked quickly to the door of the house and knocked on the door, just once. Before she could give another knock, the door swiftly opened, revealing the blonde ex-doll with a perfectly matched outfit and beautiful silky hair.

"Hi baby."

Before T/N could continue to admire her girlfriend, the latter threw herself into T/N's arms and began to spread kisses all over her face.

"Ahgggg. Get a room."

And there was Sasha, trying to annoy Barbie. T/N had given up trying to figure out which of the two was playing the role of little sister.

"Sasha, leave them alone!"

And there was Gloria, their mother and best friend.

Barbie moved to let T/N into the house. She quickly entered the house, ruffled the younger girl's hair and walked to the kitchen, where Gloria was waiting for them with sandwiches.

"Are you nervous?"

"Well, yeah, anyone would be if you're going to meet all your girlfriend's distant friends."

"Oh honey" Gloria gave her a smile. That mom smile "You don't have to be nervous. Everyone is very friendly there."

"I'm ready now, baby!" Barbie came bounding in with three giant suitcases.

Gloria and T/N looked at each other with complicity.

"Are you sure you have everything?"

"I think I s… Oh, I almost forgot my friendship bracelets I made for everyone…"

And just as quickly as she came, she left, ducking into her room again.

"Do you have the ring?" whispered Gloria.

"What ring?" asked Sasha.

"Shhhh!" both older women tried to shush her.

"Yes" whispered T/N as she pulled out the little velvet box he kept in her pants pockets.

"OH SHIT!" shouted Sasha.

"Gloria, Sasha said a rude thing!" accused Barbie as she re-entered the room next to a fistful of bracelets.

"Yes honey, I just heard her. And she'll be in trouble once they leave."

T/N took the suitcases and all the things Barbie was going to take on her trip (rather short for all the things Barbie was carrying), said goodbye to Gloria, her husband and Sasha.

They both got in the car to drive to Venice Beach.

"Ready?" asked Barbie, flashing that beautiful smile that T/N had fallen in love with.

"Always, with you by my side."

Note:

The only good thing about having my own cell phone stolen is that… I'm more active writing

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts // @xxsekhmet

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!