#Remote call access

[onemonitarsoftware]

Discover the power of ONEMONITAR’s Call Tracker! Monitor and record phone calls on Android devices with real-time tracking, call recording, and caller details, all from anywhere. Whether you’re a parent ensuring your child’s safety, an employer boosting productivity, or an individual protecting your conversations, ONEMONITAR is your go-to solution. Easy to use, secure, and backed by 24/7 support—get started today!

[ejacutastic]

I don't remember if I posted about this already but I had a client at my work who brought in their computer for it running slow (failing hdd) and I found a .txt file on their desktop from a scammer showing they'd paid $499 for a purchase of Windows 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, and 20

[eternityservedcold]

i keep having horrific dreams about getting computer viruses and being sosososo scared but if any of that shit happened in real life it would just be like. Lol time to reinstall windows

[plumadesatada]

All hail ask culture, may she come back from near-death!! How has your day been so far? Gimme one bitching point and one nice thing!

babe!!! yes YES help me with my crusade!

gonna answer this about yesterday (bc today I'm freshly woken up)

bitching point: so. I work in IT. my actual job description is testing and being a help desk for NEW systems being implemented. pay attention to that "new".... because one else at my company does! they think I'm google! "hey so X program closed on me without saving how can I recover what I was working on?" "I need new lines on this excel table can you come over and insert some" (I wish I was joking) "ummmm outlook isn't showing me my calendar" (this one happens once a week. to the same person). I feel like goddamned sisyphus.

one nice thing: I TOOK MOM TO THE THEATER LAST NIGHT FOR HER BIRTHDAY. There was a production of Cyrano and it. was. bloody FANTASTIC. mom fell asleep in the intermission and I bullied her for it ("claims to love theater" etc) after I woke her up and the second bit resumed. afterwards we went out for beer and ummmm what do you call them in English? calamari rings, fried. it was a GOOD night

[des8pudels8kern]

I went from I've been kind of sick since last week but I'm not sicksick to oh, look who's got a fever yesterday and am consequently spending today in bed.

[fazcinatingblog]

I haven't been away on a trip since June so all my packing lists are on my old phone :((( can't wait to get there and find out I only packed four pairs of underwear for a week's trip instead of the usual forty three

[relto]

finally had a talk with the guy with the borked latex, turns out it was the user service person who tried to help him who messed it up, not him.

[rebellum]

I feel awkward about pointing this out, but uh, technology is VERY DIFFERENT in urban and rural areas. Saying "by 1920 no one has horses" is incorrect. In rural areas of North america, many people used horses as their main mode of transport up into the 1950s. My great aunt (born.. 1925 I think? Around there) rode in a horse-pulled school wagon to a one room school house in the 1930s (speaking of those: My mum went to a one room school house until 1966). And that was average for most of rural Canada at that time for kids who had access to school.

People in rural areas of NA used candles as their main form of lighting into the 1930s.

we were the liminal kids. alive before the internet, just long enough we remember when things really were different.

when i work in preschools, the hand signal kids make for phone is a flat palm, their fingers like brackets. i still make the pinky-and-thumb octave stretch when i "pick up" to respond to them.

the symbol to save a file is a floppy disc. the other day while cleaning out my parents' house, i found a collection of over a hundred CDs, my mom's handwriting on each of them. first day of kindergarten. playlist for beach trip '94. i don't have a device that can play any of these anymore - none of my electronics are compatible. there are pieces of my childhood buried under these, and i cannot access them. but they do exist, which feels special.

my siblings and i recently spent hours digitizing our family's photos as a present for my mom's birthday. there's a year where the pictures just. stop. cameras on phones got to be too good. it didn't make sense to keep getting them developed. and there are a quite a few years that are lost to us. when we were younger, mementos were lost to floods. and again, while i was in middle school, google drive wasn't "a thing". somewhere out there, there are lost memories on dead laptops. which is to say - i lost it to the flood twice, kind of.

when i teach undergrad, i always feel kind of slapped-in-the-face. they're over 18, and they don't remember a classroom without laptops. i remember when my school put in the first smartboard, and how it was a huge privilege. i used the word walkman once, and had to explain myself. we are only separated by a decade. it feels like we are separated by so much more than that.

and something about ... being half-in half-out of the world after. it marks you. i don't know why. but "real adults" see us as lost children, even though many of us are old enough to have a mortgage. my little sister grew up with more access to the internet than i did - and she's only got 4 years of difference. i know how to write cursive, and i actually think it's good practice for kids to learn too - it helps their motor development. but i also know they have to be able to touch-type way faster than was ever required from me.

in between, i guess. i still like to hand-write most things, even though typing is way faster and more accessible for me. i still wear a pj shirt from when i was like 18. i don't really understand how to operate my parents' smart tv. the other day when i got seriously injured, i used hey siri to call my brother. but if you asked me - honestly, i prefer calling to texting. a life in anachronisms. in being a little out-of-phase. never quite in synchronicity.

[govindhtech]

Tech Breakdown: What Is a SuperNIC? Get the Inside Scoop!

The most recent development in the rapidly evolving digital realm is generative AI. A relatively new phrase, SuperNIC, is one of the revolutionary inventions that makes it feasible.

Describe a SuperNIC

On order to accelerate hyperscale AI workloads on Ethernet-based clouds, a new family of network accelerators called SuperNIC was created. With remote direct memory access (RDMA) over converged Ethernet (RoCE) technology, it offers extremely rapid network connectivity for GPU-to-GPU communication, with throughputs of up to 400Gb/s.

SuperNICs incorporate the following special qualities:

Ensuring that data packets are received and processed in the same sequence as they were originally delivered through high-speed packet reordering. This keeps the data flow’s sequential integrity intact.

In order to regulate and prevent congestion in AI networks, advanced congestion management uses network-aware algorithms and real-time telemetry data.

In AI cloud data centers, programmable computation on the input/output (I/O) channel facilitates network architecture adaptation and extension.

Low-profile, power-efficient architecture that effectively handles AI workloads under power-constrained budgets.

Optimization for full-stack AI, encompassing system software, communication libraries, application frameworks, networking, computing, and storage.

Recently, NVIDIA revealed the first SuperNIC in the world designed specifically for AI computing, built on the BlueField-3 networking architecture. It is a component of the NVIDIA Spectrum-X platform, which allows for smooth integration with the Ethernet switch system Spectrum-4.

The NVIDIA Spectrum-4 switch system and BlueField-3 SuperNIC work together to provide an accelerated computing fabric that is optimized for AI applications. Spectrum-X outperforms conventional Ethernet settings by continuously delivering high levels of network efficiency.

Yael Shenhav, vice president of DPU and NIC products at NVIDIA, stated, “In a world where AI is driving the next wave of technological innovation, the BlueField-3 SuperNIC is a vital cog in the machinery.” “SuperNICs are essential components for enabling the future of AI computing because they guarantee that your AI workloads are executed with efficiency and speed.”

The Changing Environment of Networking and AI

Large language models and generative AI are causing a seismic change in the area of artificial intelligence. These potent technologies have opened up new avenues and made it possible for computers to perform new functions.

GPU-accelerated computing plays a critical role in the development of AI by processing massive amounts of data, training huge AI models, and enabling real-time inference. While this increased computing capacity has created opportunities, Ethernet cloud networks have also been put to the test.

The internet’s foundational technology, traditional Ethernet, was designed to link loosely connected applications and provide wide compatibility. The complex computational requirements of contemporary AI workloads, which include quickly transferring large amounts of data, closely linked parallel processing, and unusual communication patterns all of which call for optimal network connectivity were not intended for it.

Basic network interface cards (NICs) were created with interoperability, universal data transfer, and general-purpose computing in mind. They were never intended to handle the special difficulties brought on by the high processing demands of AI applications.

The necessary characteristics and capabilities for effective data transmission, low latency, and the predictable performance required for AI activities are absent from standard NICs. In contrast, SuperNICs are designed specifically for contemporary AI workloads.

Benefits of SuperNICs in AI Computing Environments

Data processing units (DPUs) are capable of high throughput, low latency network connectivity, and many other sophisticated characteristics. DPUs have become more and more common in the field of cloud computing since its launch in 2020, mostly because of their ability to separate, speed up, and offload computation from data center hardware.

SuperNICs and DPUs both have many characteristics and functions in common, however SuperNICs are specially designed to speed up networks for artificial intelligence.

The performance of distributed AI training and inference communication flows is highly dependent on the availability of network capacity. Known for their elegant designs, SuperNICs scale better than DPUs and may provide an astounding 400Gb/s of network bandwidth per GPU.

When GPUs and SuperNICs are matched 1:1 in a system, AI workload efficiency may be greatly increased, resulting in higher productivity and better business outcomes.

SuperNICs are only intended to speed up networking for cloud computing with artificial intelligence. As a result, it uses less processing power than a DPU, which needs a lot of processing power to offload programs from a host CPU.

Less power usage results from the decreased computation needs, which is especially important in systems with up to eight SuperNICs.

One of the SuperNIC’s other unique selling points is its specialized AI networking capabilities. It provides optimal congestion control, adaptive routing, and out-of-order packet handling when tightly connected with an AI-optimized NVIDIA Spectrum-4 switch. Ethernet AI cloud settings are accelerated by these cutting-edge technologies.

Transforming cloud computing with AI

The NVIDIA BlueField-3 SuperNIC is essential for AI-ready infrastructure because of its many advantages.

Maximum efficiency for AI workloads: The BlueField-3 SuperNIC is perfect for AI workloads since it was designed specifically for network-intensive, massively parallel computing. It guarantees bottleneck-free, efficient operation of AI activities.

Performance that is consistent and predictable: The BlueField-3 SuperNIC makes sure that each job and tenant in multi-tenant data centers, where many jobs are executed concurrently, is isolated, predictable, and unaffected by other network operations.

Secure multi-tenant cloud infrastructure: Data centers that handle sensitive data place a high premium on security. High security levels are maintained by the BlueField-3 SuperNIC, allowing different tenants to cohabit with separate data and processing.

Broad network infrastructure: The BlueField-3 SuperNIC is very versatile and can be easily adjusted to meet a wide range of different network infrastructure requirements.

Wide compatibility with server manufacturers: The BlueField-3 SuperNIC integrates easily with the majority of enterprise-class servers without using an excessive amount of power in data centers.

[theshadowsquirrel]

Discovered today that the registers at work have access to ms paint of all things

Rest of the shift was us just coloring

[languagexs]

Access Instant Telephonic Interpreting Services On-Demand

As US diversity rises, demand for instant access to professional phone interpreters in 260+ languages also climbs. 24/7 on-demand services now enable multilingual communication anytime.

As linguistic diversity rises across the United States, the demand for on-demand telephonic interpreting services continues growing. Professional phone interpreters who can quickly bridge communication gaps in hundreds of languages are vital for today’s interconnected world. In this article, we’ll explore what telephone interpreting involves, key benefits over on-site services, and common usage…

[tact-and-impulse]

this truly is Messy Monday at work

[kingkatsuki]

— lush

It’s no secret to Bakugou that his friends think you’re hot, but he’s never allowed them to act on it before. Until they catch him using a remote controlled vibrator on you—

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader, implied Sero Hanta x f!reader, Kaminari Denki x f!reader, Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, toys, Bakugou let’s the guys control your lush vibe, dub-con (consent isn’t explicitly stated so could potentially be seen as non-con), long distance, sexting, public setting, nudes, squirting, dirty talk, the guys talk pure filth about you.

Word Count: 3.6k.

Bakugou did not want to be here, and frankly he wouldn’t have turned up at all if it hadn’t been for you. Especially when he knew what was waiting at home for him— you kissed him at the door with a promise to wait up for him when he returned home. Knowing that you’d more than likely fall asleep on the couch by the time he stepped back into the apartment, having to scoop you up into his arms and walk you into your bedroom.

This night out for Sero’s birthday had been planned weeks in advance, and rather than unwinding with him after your long day at work you practically forced him into the shower— alone no less, and made him get ready for drinks at a popular bar in central Musutafu.

Taking a sip of his cold beer as his friends talked animatedly around him in the plush booth, catching up with each other after a few weeks apart. Gathering as Pro-Heroes wasn’t as easy as his days back at U.A. Conflicting work schedules meant that it became near impossible to find the same days, or even evenings off as each other. So this was something to be savoured. Or at least, that’s what you told him as you watched him get ready. Sitting on your shared bed wearing one of his old Dynamight agency shirts and a pair of shorts while he pulled a plain black shirt out of his closet to wear tonight.

Nothing had annoyed Bakugou more than leaving you alone in your apartment to be here, the taste of your gloss still lingering on his lips as he thought about being home with you instead.

You’d made it abundantly clear what your plans were going to be tonight, pulling the little pink toy he’d bought for you out of your magic drawer (as he called it) and settling yourself on your shared bed.

“You put that in I ain’t goin’ at all, sweetheart.” He groaned, leaning against the doorframe as you shook your head with a laugh.

“You’re going,” You reached up to squeeze his cheeks together into a pout, the rough stubble on his face tickling your fingers as you pulled him down into a kiss, “I just need something after the day I’ve had. I’m probably gonna take a bath and wait for you to get home.”

“Then I’m at least controlling that shit.” He growled, pulling his cellphone out of his jeans pocket, “Give me access now.”

Maybe he’d be able to have one more drink before excusing himself early so he could get home to you and sink himself into your warm, wet cunt.

And god, you would be so fucking wet. You’d be soaked from the way his thumb continued to absentmindedly draw patterns against his phone screen. The pink cursor ascended for a few moments before dragging it back down. Picturing how you looked right now with the little toy stuffed inside your pretty pussy as you writhed on top of tussled sheets all because of him.

You[8.59PM]: Kats, stop teasing and let me cum :(((

The notification banner signaled at the top of the screen, causing Bakugou to grin. He’d been teasing you for the last hour with the toy, knowing that the settings he was using weren’t quite enough to have you coming undone for him. But just enough to have you riled up and begging for more—

Bakugou[9.00PM]: You’re the one that wanted to play these games, sweetheart.

You[9.01PM]: Yeah, but I wanna cum :((

The words had Bakugou’s cock throbbing in his pants, pressing against the rough denim as he tried to mask a groan through a tickly cough. Pressing the back of his hand to his lips as he typed another response to you.

Bakugou[9.02PM]: I promise I’ll take good care of you when I get home, baby.

You[9.05PM]: Turn it up a little please, baby? I need it.

With that text you’d sent an attachment. He’d been hiding the screen of his phone beneath the table all evening to avoid any prying eyes or accusatory questions, but this made him shield the screen from any unsuspecting gazes. A photograph of you staring up into the camera with needy eyes, your glossy lips curled into a cute pout as you pulled your shirt— his shirt, above your chest as the fabric bunched together to reveal your perfect breasts.

God, you were so fucking perfect.

Bakugou decided to take pity on you, his fingers pulling the circle up the screen to increase the vibrations. His free hand reaching forward to grab his bottle as he downed the rest of its contents. Determined this would be his last drink before excusing himself to come home to you, not that he’d have to think of any particular reason.

“Work still trying to contact you, bro? It’s gone nine.” Sero asked, leaning his forearms against the table.

“You have been on the phone a lot, is everything okay?” Kirishima looked concerned.

“He’s probably texting his girlfriend,” Denki practically sang.

“Shut up, idiot. Everything’s fine.”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket as he stood from the booth, smoothing his hands down the black denim on his thighs as he made a beeline towards the bar.

“It’s your round yeah, Kats?” Kirishima called after him, the sound drowned out by the loud bustle of the bar as Bakugou leaned against it waiting to be served. He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, knowing that it was texts from you. But he didn’t want to unlock it to read them now, not when anyone could look over his shoulder and catch a glimpse at what was his.

Forgoing a tray as he held the neck of the beer bottles between his knuckles as he carried them back towards the booth to a cheer and raised arms from Denki. Sharing them out as he resumed his seat and wrapped a palm around the cold base of the bottle, distracted as he pulled his phone out to finally respond to you.

You[9.21PM]: I can’t cum with this, baby. It’s driving me crazy.

You[9.23PM]: You are the biggest tease I swear, Kats. My clit is throbbing :(((

Bakugou grinned as instead of responding to your messages, he left them on read. Opening the lush app as he went back to dragging his thumb across the screen, increasing the vibrations to give you some much needed relief. Except this time Sero was quick to notice the app on Bakugou’s phone screen, quick reflexes snatching the phone from his hands.

“Is this what I think it is?” Sero’s eyes sparkled with mischief as his mouth settled into a wide grin, “No wonder you’re talking to us even less than usual tonight, Bakubro.”

“Give it back, tapeface.” Bakugou practically snarled, reaching across the table to try and grab his phone back. Knocking his beer bottle over in the process, which Kirishima’s quick reflexes managed to save with minimal spillage, the head foaming up from the movement.

“What is that?” Denki asked with curiosity as he leaned over Sero’s shoulder to look at the screen.

“You guys ever seen this app before?” Sero turned it to face the table, the circle still sat in the middle of the screen. An indication of the consistent hum of vibrations pulsing through the toy for you right now.

“No, what does it do?” Kirishima tilted his head slightly, “Is it like a game?”

“It’s an app for a remote controlled vibrator,” Sero explained, “So unless it’s inside you right now, man—”

“Piss off.” Bakugou snarled, baring his teeth.

“Then I’m guessing it’s inside your girlfriend.” Sero surmised, turning the screen back to face him.

“Oh,” Kirishima’s lips parted in surprise, and Bakugou could see the cogs turning in his mind as his thoughts clearly went to what you looked like with this little toy stuffed inside your pussy.

“Wait” Denki’s brows were furrowed as though deep in thoyght, the cogs turning in his mind, “So that means she’s got it in right now?”

“Looks like it.” Sero held the phone in one hand as he used his pointer finger to drag the circle down to the bottom of the screen, stopping the vibrations completely, “How many times has she cum already?”

None of your fucking business, Bakugou thought to himself as he sneered across the table. But he hoped you hadn’t cum at all, wanting to return home and experience the luxury of you coming undone on his cock firsthand.

“Oh fuck, man.” Denki whined, “Your girlfriends so fucking hot. How did you get so lucky?”

“Maybe you should give that back, Sero.” Kirishima shuffled beside Bakugou, clearly intrigued with the conversation but he tried to ignore the dark, depraved thoughts that were running through his mind at this moment.

“Yeah, give it the fuck back.” Bakugou snarled, swiping for the phone again as Sero held it over his head and away from Bakugou’s reach.

You[9.30PM]: Baby, why’d you turn it off completely that’s so mean?

“Oh shit,” Sero read the text that came through from you, “Happy birthday to me.”

“Give me the fuckin’ phone,” Bakugou practically snarled, venom laced in his tone as he hoped you wouldn’t try and send another selfie.

“Come on, man. Five minutes,” Sero pleaded, offering the phone back to Bakugou as a peace offering, “It could be my birthday gift, you know?”

Having his friends fawn over you like this had a warped sense of power rolling over him. It was debauched, depraved and downright scummy but Bakugou found himself falling into the sovereignty.

Bakugou knew he should call you to let you know that he was surrendering control to the app to his friends, or at the very least send you a message to let you know. But deep down he knew it was something that you would probably enjoy, maybe a bit too much, if you knew. Often talking to him about uses for the toy, and whether he’d ever share access with it with his friends. The thought of going home to tell you who had been controlling it just to see the wide-eyed look on your face had his cock throbbing beneath his jeans in anticipation.

“Five fuckin’ minutes.”

“That’s the spirit, happy fucking birthday to me.” Sero grinned as he began to slide his finger against the screen, “You shoulda brought her with you, that woulda been the best gift.”

“You’d never be that fuckin’ lucky, tapeface.” Bakugou snorted, taking a sip of beer as Sero’s tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration. Swirling his finger along the screen with such precision, but Bakugou was certain he had no real clue what he was doing.

“A girl online gave me her code to one of these before,” He grinned across the booth, “Let me watch her on video while I did it too—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Bakugou would rather blow his phone up completely than let his friends see you on video.

“How do you even know she’s got it in right now?” Denki asked, “You could just be messing with a dead toy.”

“She sent a text begging me to turn it back on.” Sero grinned, “He’s probably the one that put it in her, lucky prick.”

Bakugou wished he was the one that positioned the toy inside you, although he definitely wouldn’t have made it to the bar if he had. There’s nothing in this world that could’ve torn him away from your pretty little cunt.

“Can you get her to send us a picture?” Denki continued, “Do you have pictures?”

Bakugou had multiple pictures, and videos, of you using the toy. It had originally been a way for him to help you climax whenever he was called away on long missions, a fun addition to the already steamy video calls you’d have at random hours. The time differences were often large as he’d find himself fisting his cock for you on camera at four in the morning, helping you to cum just before you were getting ready for bed.

“Shut up, asshole.” Bakugou growled.

There was no way he was going to show them a picture of you, especially how hot you looked right now. Remembering the photograph you’d sent him just as he made it to the bar, of you spread out against soft sheets as you gave the camera a sultry gaze. Man, he really was a fucking idiot coming out tonight and leaving you at home.

“Oh, he’s definitely got pictures,” Sero smirked, “Look at the look on his face. I bet she looks hot in them too—”

“Don’t you dare, you fuck.” Bakugou made a swipe for the phone, but Sero was quicker. Handing the cellphone off to Denki as he leaned forward to pick up his bottle of beer with a chuckle, taking a large swig from it as he leaned against Denki’s shoulder to watch his friend play with the app.

“Have you used this when she’s out in public?” Denki asked, looking across the booth at Bakugou while his finger criss-crossed over the screen with speed— probably torturing your poor pussy with the intense changes.

“No.” Bakugou answered curtly. Neither of you had really toyed with the device outside long distance, but it’s definitely something that you’d both talked about before. You’d even suggested he wear it one night, so he could feel exactly what it did to you for himself.

“Man, that’s so boring.” Denki pouted, “If she was my girlfriend I’d have her wearing it to the grocery store.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to make a girl cum by yourself.” Bakugou scoffed, taking another sip of his drink as Denki scrunched his nose in response.

“Yeah I do,” Denki turned the screen to face him, giving anyone in the bar who looked over a glimpse at the adult app on the phone in use right now, “In fact I’m gonna make your girl cum without even touching her.”

Bakugou hoped you weren’t coming right now, especially with how intense Denki had the vibrations. He knew you were already riled up and desperate, and this was exactly what you needed to have you tumbling over the edge. But he’d never live it down if Denki was the one to make you climax, he’d never hear the end of it.

“You should invite her next time, man. We could do this with her here.” Denki continued, his finger pausing on the screen while the dot was sat at its highest point. Indicating that the vibrations were on the most intense setting as Bakugou pictured you writhing against the sheets while the toy buzzed inside you. Picturing the creamy slick that drooled out of your hole at the sensation and stuck to your plush thighs. Wishing that he was there to clean you up instead of fantasizing about it. His cock jumped at the thought as he palmed himself subtly through his jeans while shifting in his seat.

God, he had to go home and bury himself inside you.

“Can I have a go?” Kirishima mumbled shyly, his cheeks glowing as red as his hair as he fisted his beer bottle nervously.

“Knock yourself out, man.” Denki held the cellphone out to Kirishima like it belonged to him, the dot still sat at the highest point on the screen.

What Bakugou hadn’t been expecting is the amount of teasing Kirishima was doing for you. His thumb barely moving the circle above the slowest setting, the low rumble of the toy inside you would’ve been barely enough for anyone and Bakugou knew it had to be driving you crazy right now.

You[9.40PM]: I told you to stop being a tease. I was about to cum. :(((

“Oh, she’s texting you.”

Kirishima showed him the screen as he read the text, and Bakugou had never been so happy that Kirishima had managed to seize control of his phone and the app before Denki had a chance to actually make you climax.

Breathing a sigh of relief as he grinned in satisfaction, certain he’d never hear the end of it (from you or Denki) if he’d managed to make you cum.

Kirishima was gentle and cautious as he continued playing with the app, barely letting the vibrations go above the middle of the screen. But thick fingers continued to make it constant, pushing down to wiggle the line every few seconds as he began to make almost swirling patterns against the device.

“Come on, man. Turn it up to the max.” Denki whined, his arms going across the table in a silent plea to get the phone back into his hands.

“So you can make her completely numb?” Sero scoffed, “You know she’d stop being able to feel anything with you.”

“She’d be able to feel a lot.” Denki grabbed at his crotch crudely as the men sat at the table began to laugh, even Bakugou snorted as he took a large swig of his beer. He had to get home to you soon.

“You ain’t ever made a girl cum in their life so what makes you think you could make my girl cum?” Bakugou deadpanned as Denki pouted.

“I have too!” He whined.

“Oh yeah? When was that?” Sero pried.

“Come on, man. Don’t be on his side—”

“The girls on those camsites don’t count, I’m pretty certain they fake it too.”

“I don’t even use those anymore.”

“Oh wow.” Kirishima breathed deeply when Bakugou turned his attention back to his best friend. Noticing he’d opened the texting app and now a photograph you’d just sent sat open on the screen.

“What the fuck, man?” Bakugou grunted, grabbing his phone off Kirishima has he shielded the screen with his body. Curling over the table as he held the device beneath it.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault. I saw the notification and I clicked it—” Panic was evident in Kirishima’s tone as he begun a feeble attempt to explain himself. An attempt that would’ve been easier were it not for the alcohol currently circling through his veins, his voice slurred as his eyes glazed over. Trying to commit the picture he’d just seen of you to memory, as though he’d just had a near death experience and had witnessed the pearly gates.

“Let me see,” Denki practically begged, “God, dude. Please— let me see. Eiji got to see, it’s not fair!”

“Shut up,” Bakugou cut both men off, trying to focus on the picture you’d just sent.

It was a photograph taken from above your body, between the gap of your thighs and your chubby mound as he noticed the dark stain that now splashed across your bedsheets. Bakugou sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when he noticed the text message that you’d sent with it.

You[9.45PM]: You just made me squirt omg

You[9.46PM]: You’re cleaning that up when you get home it’s not my fault :(((

“Fuck, she squirted.” Bakugou mumbled, eyes roaming your exposed skin and the mess you’d made on the screen.

That’s it, he was going home to you now.

“What?!” Denki gasped in surprise, practically jumping over the table in the booth to read the messages, “You made her squirt?”

“Clearly it was me that got her close enough to do it,” Sero grinned, “Eij just got lucky to get her last.”

“And she sent a picture? Can I see it, man? Please.” Denki looked as though he was about to cry, his knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the table, “Please just one pic.”

Bakugou chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, debating on whether to show the personal picture you’d sent. A picture that had clearly been intended for his eyes only— but he’d explain to you later.

Turning the screen to the rest of the table, ensuring it faced away from the busy bar as his friends leaned in to look at it. Eyes darting across the imagine to try and memorise it in the few seconds that Bakugou had given them.

“Holy fucking shit.” Sero grinned.

“That’s not fair that you get to go home to that,” Denki threw his head against the back of the booth with a groan, “I’d lick it off the floor.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ freak.” Bakugou sneered, scrunching his nose at the debauched comment.

Locking his phone before leaning forward to pick his beer bottle up to down the rest of its contents, slamming the empty bottle back down on the table as he grabbed his jacket.

“Well, you’ve seen what I’ve got waiting for me at home, I’m out.” Bakugou fist bumped Sero as before shrugging his jacket back on.

“Any chance at a video call?” Denki pleaded, clasping his hands together as Bakugou shot him a glare, “What? I’m just asking.”

Bakugou text you as he left the bar, moving quick on his feet to get home to you as quickly as possible as he hailed a taxi.

Bakugou[9.52PM]: I’m not cleaning that up when I get home, I’m making it worse.

[nyancrimew]

I have done many inadvisable things for women, either in love or lust. Wandering through an unfamiliar part of town, 300 dollars in my pocket. Involving myself in a quarrel between friends that ultimately led to the decimation of an entire social group. Pushing my struggling ability to be social just so I can keep talking to her, keep engaging with her. And yet the one that always pops up in my mind is the time I tried to learn League of Legends for a girl I said less than twenty sentences to, in total.

i once flirted with this person i was into (who knew i was into them and didn't really want a relationship tho i still don't really understand what i was to them) by sending them yuri art via email from a hacked brazilian government email address i had access to at the time... with the same person as well ive had a "date" where we were in a call and i screenshared myself remotely turning off a publicly exposed oil well halfway across the world... and those still aren't even the stupidest things ive done for crushes..

[wosospacegirl]

Legally binding - Alexia putellas x platonic! r

Summary: Alexia Putellas didn’t plan to become anyone’s legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas — and she’s already moved in.

Word count: 4k

a/n: if this sounds like a Disney Channel movie, it’s intentional

Masterlist

..

Y/n was a smart kid—sharp, resourceful, and quick on her feet. But the social workers at the orphanage, a quiet place run by nuns, always said she was using her intelligence the wrong way. 

They told her she should channel her persistence and curiosity into something more practical. Something like STEM or the arts.

And honestly, Y/n knew they had a point. She could do it. She could be anyone she wanted to be—if she just focused on the right path. 

But there was one thing she knew, deep down, more than anything else: she wanted to be a footballer.

It wasn’t a decision. It was just the way her heart beat.

Her love for football begn the first time a social worker brought a ball into the orphanage. It was a modest thing, scuffed and old, but to Y/n, it was the most precious thing in the world. 

She could still remember how the other kids’ faces lit up when they saw it. They didn’t need fancy equipment or a field—just a ball, and sometimes not even that.

They played with whatever they could find, paper balls, socks rolled into bundles, even erasers. 

Anything small enough to be kicked into became a football. It wasn’t about rules or winning. It was about the feeling of freedom.

For Y/n, that ball was more than just a game. It was a doorway to everything she wanted to be.

Y/n couldn’t contain her excitement when one of the nuns called all the children together to announce something that made her heart race.

FC Barcelon was forming a partnership with their orphanage.

A few of the kids, just a select, would get to train at La Masia once a week.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Was it some charity project, a way for the club to get a tax break? Probably.

But when she saw her name on the list, all of that faded into the background.

She didn’t know much about Barça—just that it came from her hometown, from the city she rarely got to see.

The orphanage didn’t have a TV, no access to phones, and the nuns were their only teachers. So, there was no real school either.

Her world was limited to the small walls of the orphanage, and the little knowledge she could gather from the newspapers the nuns allowed her to read

It was her only window to the outside world, her only connection to a life she could only dream of.

Yeah, Y/n was pretty cut off from everything outside. But in that moment, none of that mattered. What mattered was this chance,,a chance to be part of something bigger. 

A chance to step out of the small world that had always confined her.

On her first day at La Masia, Y/n didn’t expect to impress anyone. But when she stepped onto the pitch, she gave it everything she had. 

Her skills spoke for themselves, and by the end of the session, she’d earned a few impressed looks from the staff. 

She wasn’t the fastest or the most polished player, but she held her own, especially considering she didn’t even own a pair of proper football boots. 

She was playing in sneakers that were two sizes too big, but she didn’t care. She was there, and that was enough.

But it wasn’t all easy. 

Some of the girls on the team looked at her like she didn’t belong. 

Technically, they were right. She didn’t. Not with her background. She wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t wealthy, well-connected, or even remotely like the girls who had grown up with football academies and proper training.

Y/n felt the weight of their stares, but she pushed it aside. She wasn’t there to fit in or prove anything to them. 

She was there for herself. She was here for the dream, and that was all that mattered..

Despite the looks, a couple of girls made it easier for her—Jana and Vicky, both around fourteen. 

They were kind and quick to see that she wasn’t like the others. Within minutes, they pulled her into their little group, showing her how things worked and making her feel like she wasn’t invisible.

The kindness didn’t stop there. 

During lunch, when Y/n pulled out her bottle of water and realised she hadn’t packed anything to eat, Jana and Vicky didn’t hesitate.

They shared their sandwiches without a second thought, smiling at her like she wasn’t some outsider but a new friend.

In that moment, Y/n felt something shift inside her. Maybe she didn’t have football boots. Maybe she wasn’t from the right background. But at least for now, she had a place here.

The second time Y/n showed up at La Masia, she couldn’t help but frown when she saw most of the girls huddled together on the left side of the pitch, eyes fixed on something, or someone, at far left.

She couldn’t make out what was going on, but the low murmur of excitement buzzed through the air.

Curious, Y/n walked over, trying to get a better view, but a few elbows shoved her back. She shifted behind the group and stood on tiptoe, trying to peer past the heads of the others.

“Hey, who’s that?” she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter.

Vicky and Jana exchanged a glance, then looked back at her like she’d just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

“Who is that?! Are you kidding me?” Jana said, eyes wide with disbelief.

Y/n raised an eyebrow.

“That’s Alexia Putellas. La Reina,” Jana added, almost reverently.

“Oh,” Y/n said, her brow furrowing. “That’s the queen? What’s she doing here?”

Vicky rolled her eyes playfully. “She’s not really the queen,” she said, though her tone held an edge of affection. “We call her La Reina because she’s Barça royalty. She’s the best of all time. The GOAT, you know.”

Y/n blinked, processing the words. “Goat?” she repeated, confused. “Cabra? What do you mean?”

Jana’s patience clearly wore thin. “Not cabra, Y/n! It stands for ‘Greatest of all time,’ she explained, grabbing both of their hands and pulling them through the crowd. “Come with me, I know where we can actually see her up close.”

Y/n couldn’t help but be intrigued. This Alexia Putellas was more than just a football player—she was something else entirely. And for reasons Y/n didn’t fully understand yet, that something seemed to pull at her.

They ducked under the bleachers, the ground gritty beneath their feet. 

Something warm and sticky brushed against Y/n’s cheek, but she didn’t even flinch. She didn’t care about the dirt or the discomfort, because now she could see Alexia. And, more importantly, she could hear her too.

Alexia was standing a little ways away, her blonde hair shining in the sun. 

She had this calm, open expression, a kind of warmth about her that made Y/n’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t quite explain. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Alexia was nothing like she had imagined. She seemed... accessible. Human, even.

Not like the untouchable royalty that Vicky and Jana made her out to be.

“She’s like... amazing,” Jana whispered, her voice full of awe. “I wanna play with her someday.”

“She’s the best,” Vicky added, nodding in agreement. Her tone was reverent, almost as if she was talking about someone from a distant dream.

Y/n watched Alexia as she spoke with the journalist.

There was something undeniable about the way she held herself. 

Y/n wasn’t sure if she wanted to be like her, or if she wanted Alexia to help her become someone who could stand at that level.

“I came here because of the partnership La Masia formed with the children from Santa Clara Orphanage,” Alexia said, adjusting her jacket as she talked with the interviewer. 

“It’s important to me to meet them, to show them that football isn’t just a game.”

The interviewer nodded, intrigued. 

“It must be so special to be able to offer that to kids who may not have many opportunities to begin with. So, do you have any specific hopes for them? Any wishes for their futures?”

Alexia smiled softly, her gaze thoughtful as she glanced out over the training field. 

“Well, I think what I wish most for them is that they find someone who will guide them, a loving and responsible adult, someone who’s not just looking to be a saviour, but to give them the support they need to succeed.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice more deliberate. 

“And of course, I hope they all follow what’s in their hearts. It doesn’t matter if that’s football, or music, or whatever. They need to feel supported, and they need to know that their dreams are valid, no matter what those dreams are.”

The interviewer smiled, clearly moved. 

“That’s beautiful , Alexia...so, you’re saying you see your role more as a guide, rigrh? Rather than someone who swoops in to fix everything for them?”

Alexia chuckled lightly, shaking her head. 

“Exactly. I’m not here to fix anyone. Barcelona is here creating opportunities, giving them the tools they need, and letting them choose their own path. They’re the ones who will shape their futures.”

Loving and responsible adult.

That sentence echoed in Y/n’s brain.

Alexia hoped the kids from her orphanage would find a loving and responsible adult.

Well, Y/n was from Santa Clara. And Alexia looked like a loving and responsible adult…

It all fit together perfectly.

Y/n’s mind raced as she replayed Alexia’s words over and over again. “Loving and responsible adult…”

What did that even mean? Y/n wasn’t sure, but she knew she didn’t need a parent. 

She had never craved that. 

She didn’t need someone to love her, to fix her, or to give a version of a family. What she needed, what she wanted, was an opportunity. 

And Alexia? She was the opportunity. She was the bridge between Y/n and the future she wanted.

Becoming a footballer wasn’t about being loved. It was about getting the right connections, the right guidance, the right support. Y/n didn’t care for a hug or a bedtime story. 

She didn’t need to be told “I love you” every night. No, what she needed was someone who could get her into the right circles, someone who knew how to navigate the world she wanted to break into.

And Alexia? She was the perfect fit. 

She was a champion, the best of the best, according to the girls. 

If Y/n could convince Alexia to be her guardian, then maybe—just maybe—her dream could become real. 

She could train harder, learn more, and eventually, one day, be just like Alexia. And that, she thought, would be enough.

It was simple: Y/n needed Alexia to help her make her dream come true. That’s all. She wasn’t asking for a family. She just needed someone to show her the way.

..

The next morning, Y/n went straight to the orphanage library and got her hands on any book that mentioned Spain’s adoption laws.

And there it was.

In the third paragraph about adoption and guardianship, it said any child twelve or older could be placed under guardianship by an adult willing to sign the paperwork. 

It wouldn’t be full adoption—no name change—but the child could live with the adult, go to school, and get medical care under their name.

Kind of like a shortcut to being adopted. And since older kids were rarely chosen, this process was easier.

Y/n made her decision.

She was going to be adopted by Alexia Putellas. Whether Alexia liked it or not.

..

A few weeks later, the La Masia kids were rewarded with a tour of FC Barcelona’s official building.

That was the moment Y/n had been waiting for.

She memorised the entire guardianship clause and wrote it on her hand. Then, during the tour, she slipped away when one of the monitors wasn’t looking and headed for the second floor.

She found a room labelled Management and Contracts. It looked serious enough.

She locked the door behind her, walked over to a computer, and typed in the password.

ViscaElBarça. Easy.

She searched until she found Alexia Putellas’ contract. Jana had told her the star player was about to sign a new five-year deal.

Y/n opened the file, converted the PDF to a Word doc, scrolled to page thirteen, and inserted a paragraph in Arial size 3–a forged clause labelled 12(b) stating that:

‘Ms. Alexia Putellas Segura, herein referred to as 'the Guardian,' consents to and accepts full legal guardianship of minor Y/n [Full Legal Name], age twelve, a ward of the Santa Clara Orphanage, n the contractual agreement between Futbol Club Barcelona and the Santa Clara Children’s Welfare Foundation. This guardianship shall be recognised in accordance with applicable civil codes and is binding upon execution.

Then she turned the document back into a PDF and quietly saved it.

Her plan was perfect.

She was going to be adopted by the greatest footballer the world had ever seen, according to Jana, nd that would make her a great footballer, too.

..

A week later, Y/n was the first at the front door, waiting for the paper deliveryman. One of the nuns gave her a strange look—no one ever beat the nuns to morning prayers, let alone the newspaper—but Y/n didn’t care. 

She needed to know if Alexia had signed the guardianship contract

And there it was.

Right on the front page.

“Alexia Putellas signs new deal with Barcelona Femení.”

“Yes!” Y/n whispered to herself, pumping a fist. “I’m officially out of here.”

She ran back to her room—the one she shared with six other girls, all still fast asleep—grabbed her tiny backpack, and packed up the few belongings she had. 

Three shirts, one pair of sneakers, a toothbrush, and three old photos from her childhood. That was it. That was her life in a bag.

She made her way to the main office and knocked on Sister Maria’s door, but didn’t bother waiting for permission to enter.

Good morning, Sister Maria,” Y/n said, standing up straight, her voice unusually serious for a twelve-year-old.

The nun didn’t even look up from her desk. “What is it now, Y/n? No, you still can’t keep that stray cat—how many times do I have to tell you—”

“It’s not about the cat,” Y/n interrupted. “I’m here to say my sincere goodbyes.”

Sister Maria blinked and finally looked up.

“Goodbyes? Are you eighteen already? My goodness, how time flies.”

“No, Sister,” Y/n said. “I’ve been adopted.”

Silence.

“Adopted?” Sister Maria echoed. “Someone… wanted you?”

“I know,” Y/n said, unfazed. “Hard to believe. But yes. You can check the system. It’s official.”

If everything had gone according to plan—and Y/n was confident it had—the guardianship contract Alexia signed had already been processed by the Ministry of Sport and forwarded to the Ministry of Family Affairs. 

Which meant it would be reflected in Y/n’s file.

Sister Maria sat down at her computer, muttering prayers under her breath. A few tense minutes passed before she gasped.

“Oh dear Lord. You were adopted. A legal guardianship contract, signed and approved.”

“Exactly,” Y/n said. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a new home to get to.”

She turned toward the door, but Sister Maria reached out and gently stopped her.

“Here,” she said, holding out a few crumpled euro notes. “For the metro.”

Y/n blinked at the money. “The metro?”

“Yes. How else are you getting to your new guardian’s house? They aren’t picking you up, right?”

Y/n paused.

Right. She hadn’t exactly figured that part out yet. 

Jana once mentioned that some of the players lived in an apartment complex near the training grounds… maybe she’d start there.

“Thank you, Sister,” Y/n said, taking the money.

“Be good,” Sister Maria said gruffly. “We don’t want you back.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/n replied with a grin. “I’m not coming back.”

..

Alexia had played in front of ninety thousand people.

She had captained both club and country, stood on podiums with medals heavy around her neck, even delivered a speech in Parliament once, with a microphone that cut out every third word and a sea of ministers blinking up at her.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared her for walking into her apartment at seven o’clock on a Wednesday night and finding a twelve-year-old girl sitting on her sofa.

Just. Sitting there.

Like she lived there.

Alexia froze mid-step, one boot still halfway on, the keys slipping loose from her fingers and clattering to the floor.

“…Por dios? [Oh God]” she said, her voice suddenly higher than she remembered it being. “Quién eres tú? [Who are you?]”

The girl turned around, perfectly calm, as if the famous footballer bursting into the room hadn’t startled her in the slightest. 

Alexia blinked. “Who are you?”

“Oh. Hi,” the girl said casually, her legs tucked underneath her,

The girl tilted her head, eyebrows raised like Alexia was the confusing part of this entire situation. “You’re Alexia Putellas, right?”

“…Yes?

“Perfect,” the girl said, brightening. “Then everything’s fine. I’m at the right house.”

She patted the cushion beside her invitingly.

“Do you want to sit?”

Alexia recoiled like it was cursed. “No, I do not want to sit...what...how did you get in here?”

She looked around wildly, as if the answer might be hiding behind the kitchen island or crouched behind the bookshelf. 

Maybe someone would burst in, yelling sorpresa! [surprise!] and explain this whole insane setup. Maybe she had fallen asleep in the car and was dreaming this.

“The window was unlocked,” the girl said.

“It wasn’t.”

“Well,” she replied, stretching her arms over the back of the sofa, “then I’m very resourceful.”

Alexia’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“It’s the third floor,” she hissed, stumbling backwards until her hip hit the counter. She stared at the kid. “Did you scale the building?”

The girl only smiled.

“Okay. No. No, absolutely not. What is happening right now?”

The girl, still nameless, reached into her backpack and pulled out a thick folder. 

It wasn’t a school folder. 

It was a serious folder. One with fake FC Barcelona letter and, horrifyingly, a massive red stamp across the front that read: LEGAL ADDENDUM.

She handed it over like it explained everything.

Alexia took it with both hands, mostly because her brain had stopped functioning somewhere around the phrase “unlocked window.” 

Inside was a single newspaper clipping—cut out so unevenly it looked like a toddler had done it—with a photo of Alexia signing her contract.

“There was a clause,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “In your new contract.”

Alexia stared at her, her mouth dry. “A clause.”

“Yep. Clause twelve, subsection B. Guardianship exception.”

Alexia blinked. “Guardianship. Exception.”

“Uhum.”

“For whom?”

“For me.”

The girl pulled out more papers, each one worse than the last. 

Alexia's eyes widened in pure horror.

One had what appeared to be the signature of the ‘King of Spain’—in blue marker. Another was a crayon drawing of a house, two stick figures holding hands, labelled “Me and Alexia

“Where is your mother?” she asked slowly.

The girl beamed. “You’re my mom now!”

Alexia dropped the folder like it had burned her.

“I’m what?”

Alexia stared, mouth open, the girl beamed like this was the best news ever.

Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not.

“Kidding,” the girl said, flashing a grin. “Kind of. You said in that interview last month that you hoped all the orphan kids would find a loving, responsible adult.”

Alexia’s jaw dropped. “And what the hell does that have to do with… with this?”

“You said you adored us.” The girl’s voice got quiet—barely a whisper. “I figured… I adored you too. So.”

Something in Alexia’s chest twitched.

The girl looked up at her with the sort of fierce, casual defiance only kids had. 

“I’m an orphan. If you didn’t get that already. So you don’t have to worry about like, my real parents showing up or anything.”

Alexia pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’m going to get arrested.”

“No, you’re not,” the girl said cheerfully, already lounging deeper into the cushions. “You’re Alexia Putellas. Who’s gonna arrest you?”

Alexia stared at her—this strange, sharp-edged, audacious child who had just moved in like it was the most obvious thing in the world—and let out a weak, exhausted noise from the back of her throat.

“This,” she muttered, “this is exactly why I don’t do interviews.

Her brain was racing with thoughts of calling lawyers, agents, and possibly the police, but she couldn’t quite make herself move. 

The absurdity of the situation was almost paralysing.

The girl—this little stranger—was sitting on her sofa, hands folded in her lap, staring at the television like it was an alien object. 

Her brows were furrowed in concentration.

Alexia watched her for a moment, then shook her head. 

This was unreal.

The silence between them stretched until the girl looked up, her expression expectant.

“So, uh,” she began, her voice a little tentative, “what’s for dinner?”

The question hit Alexia hard.

Dinner. Right. She hadn’t even thought about food yet, too distracted by the miniature crisis unfolding in her living room.

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sudden growl of her own stomach.

Alexia closed her eyes in frustration.

“Well, kid, I—” She stopped herself before the words could spill out. She wasn’t exactly prepared for this situation, wasn’t prepared for any of it. 

But as she stood there, her mind raced. She’d have to figure out how this was even possible. 

But right now?

Right now, the girl needed food.

With a resigned sigh, Alexia turned towards the kitchen, opening the fridge with one hand, still clutching the paperwork the girl had handed her in the other.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” she muttered under her breath. “This is insane.”

And yet... she still opened the fridge. Still started pulling ingredients. Like feeding this girl—this strange, stubborn kid–somehow made sense.

She’s probably hungry, Alexia thought. 

She broke into my apartment, but she’s just a child. A very determined, mildly terrifying child.

She sighed. God help me.

She glanced over her shoulder to find the girl still sitting there, waiting patiently.

“Have you ever had dinner like...this?” Alexia asked, unsure how to phrase it without sounding too out of place.

The girl looked up at her, an odd sort of quiet in her eyes. “Not like this. Not... regular–we just had soup.”

Alexia felt something tighten in her chest, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Well, kid,” Alexia said, her voice softer than she intended. “You’re about to have something regular.”

She grabbed whatever was in reach—leftover pasta, a couple of eggs, and some questionable vegetables—and set to work. 

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Something stable. Something she could handle right now.

The girl didn’t talk again, just watched Alexia prepare the food like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Maybe this wasn’t a disaster… at least not yet. But Alexia knew she was barely holding it together. Just barely.

And, for now, feeding this girl was the only thing she could focus on.

..

a/n: honestly, this was just a random idea that wouldn’t leave me alone, so I had to write it down. I’m not sure if there’ll be more, but I had a blast writing it and just wanted to share! :D